A breathless bride, p.8
A Breathless Bride, page 8
She had let him make love to her.
Guilty heat burned through her again at the instant, vivid recall of Constantine’s mouth on hers, his muscular body pressing her into the soft leather couch.
Carla’s expression was taut as she leaned against the frame of the kitchen door, her feet bare, her arms wrapping her thin silk robe closely around her waist. “I knew it. He wants you again.”
“No.” A little desperately, Sienna searched out painkillers, drank two down with a glass of water, then found mugs and tea bags, glad for the excuse to avoid Carla’s too-sharp gaze. “At least, no more or less than he wants any woman.”
“So, why does he want you to go to Medinos?”
She set the mugs on the table and dropped in the tea bags. “Not because he wants a relationship.”
She poured hot water over the fragrant chamomile. What had happened on the couch had nothing to do with a relationship. It had been sex, pure and simple. Planned sex. Constantine had made no bones about wanting her and she hadn’t been able to resist him.
Sienna removed the tea bags and handed Carla her mug. “I’m going to Medinos because a de Vries rep will be at the opening of the new Atraeus Resort. With any luck I can stall Constantine long enough to give us a chance to secure that contract.”
A glimmer of hope entered Carla’s eyes. She knew as well as Sienna that if they signed with de Vries they would be able to pay off the Atraeus loan outright. They would not lose Ambrosi Pearls.
“Hallelujah,” Carla murmured. “Finally some light at the end of the tunnel. I just wish you didn’t have to go to Medinos. I don’t trust the Atraeus men, and especially not Constantine. He doesn’t have a reputation for revisiting anything—not mistakes, and definitely not affairs. Promise me that whatever you do, you won’t let him make you his mistress. Nothing’s worth that. Nothing.”
Stung by the knowledge that even Carla now labeled her brief engagement to Constantine as an affair, Sienna sipped her tea. “The only liaison Constantine and I will be discussing is a business one.”
Carla’s cheeks were flushed, her jaw set. “Good. That’s what I needed to hear. Be careful.”
Sienna intended to be.
She turned her attention back to the glittering Medinian sea and a fishing boat maneuvering alongside a long narrow jetty. They were driving through the outskirts of a city now and the streets were increasingly busy. Olive-skinned, dark-eyed Medinians and brightly garbed tourists mingled, enjoying the brilliant sunshine and the vibrant market-style shopping and street cafés.
Tomas pointed out Castello Atraeus, a fortress built on the highest point of the headland, which overlooked the city of Medinos and the bay. Constructed of the same stone that many of the villas and cottages were made of, Sienna knew the original ancient castello which had once belonged to a noble family that had since died out, had been almost completely destroyed during the war. Lorenzo Atraeus had bought the ruin with his newfound wealth and had painstakingly rebuilt it, following the ancient designs.
Tomas briefly pointed out other buildings of significance including a magnificent modern library, which Lorenzo had gifted to the city, before driving along a curving stretch of beach. Minutes later, he turned into the lushly planted parking bay of The Atraeus Group’s newest hotel—a sleek, luxury, seven-star resort that had only recently been completed.
As Sienna exited the car, her gaze was caught by the island that floated closest to Medinos. “Is that Ambrus?”
Tomas waited for the bellhop to load her bags. “Yes. That is Ambrus.”
Looping the strap of her handbag over her shoulder, she walked into the air-conditioned paradise of the hotel’s signature cream-and-gold foyer, with its intricately carved frescoes and exquisite mosaics.
Her heart thumped once, hard, when she glimpsed a head of coal-black hair brushing a familiar set of broad shoulders. Constantine was dressed casually in dark pants, a black T-shirt and a loose jacket. In the lush surroundings, he seemed even more darkly masculine and exotic than she remembered. His gaze locked with hers and any idea that this was a chance meeting evaporated.
Feeling overheated and a little flustered because she hadn’t expected to encounter Constantine at the front desk, Sienna busied herself signing the register and collecting her key. Constantine spoke briefly with Tomas, directed the bellhop to her suite then insisted on accompanying her.
The lavish ground-floor suite he directed her to had both internal and external access, with huge glass sliding doors that framed an achingly beautiful view of Ambrus. Constantine unlocked the doors to a private patio.
Shielding her eyes against the sun, Sienna stepped outside and stared across the limpid blue water at towering black cliffs. High, rugged hills were bleached the color of ripe wheat by the sun, and the lower slopes were dotted by flashes of white, which she assumed were goats.
She had expected to feel a connection to Medinos. For years, just the name itself had entranced her, although the villa and pearl facility her family used to own were definitely past history.
Sienna logged the moment Constantine moved to stand beside her, her stomach clenching at the faint scents of aftershave and clean male. “Ambrus looks deserted.”
Her gaze connected with his. For a split second she was spun back to the interlude at his house, the moment of clarity when the lights had come on and she had seen the possession in his eyes.
He indicated the island. “The mining company operates on the eastern side. There’s a construction project for a new resort complex and marina on the northern headland. Other than that, we run goats to keep the weeds down. Your family’s old pearl facility is based on the northwestern side.”
She stared at the high, stark cliffs, the utter absence of anything as soft and tamed as a sandy beach. She knew there were calm bays and inlets—there had to be for the pearl beds—but there was nothing remotely civilized about the southern end.
A discreet tap on her door relieved her of her tingling awareness of Constantine and the hot flashes of memory that kept surfacing. Glad for an excuse to end the unnerving tension, Sienna walked through the elegant sitting room and opened the door so the bellhop could carry her bags inside.
Relieved to see her padlocked sample case stacked on top of her luggage, she tipped the lean young man. The future of Ambrosi Pearls was literally tied up in the contents of that case.
She started guiltily as Constantine prowled up behind her.
His gaze rested broodingly on the sample case, although he couldn’t possibly know its contents.
He handed her two cream-colored embossed cards. The first was an invitation to the official opening of the resort that evening, the second an invitation to a luncheon to celebrate the product launch of a new collection of Atraeus gold jewelry the following day. “We won’t have time to talk about the loan details today. That discussion will have to wait until this evening.”
On the back of both cards, precisely handwritten—no doubt by Tomas or another of Constantine’s people—were instructions on dress, reminding her that while Medinos might be a tourist destination, it was closer to the east in its moral codes than the west.
Cheeks flushed, she slipped the cards in her handbag, which was still looped over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
Constantine stepped past her and paused at the open door. “I was certain you would appreciate the opportunity to circulate.”
Sienna closed the door behind him and leaned against the cool wood waiting for the pounding in her chest to subside.
Constantine had seemed manageable in Sydney—barely. A mere hour ago she had been happily operating under the assumption that on a business footing, at least, she could handle him.
But this was not the Constantine she had known two years ago. The way he had seduced her so easily the other night was a case in point. He had ruthlessly used his fall and the power outage to maneuver her into having sex with him. The fact that she had wanted the sex wasn’t at issue as much as the fact that Constantine was harder, sharper, more manipulative and dominant than she had bargained on.
And she was almost certain he knew exactly what she was up to on Medinos.
Eight
Constantine tracked Sienna’s leisurely progress across the crowded reception room. Even if he hadn’t been informed that she had entered the ballroom of Medinos’s newest and most spectacular hotel, it would have been easy to spot her by the turning of heads as she strolled past.
Terminating a conversation, he placed his drink on a sideboard, his temper flashing to a slow burn when he saw what she was wearing.
Her hair was caught up in a knot, emphasizing the dress, which was designed to induce a stroke. A pale champagne halter, the gown was deceptively plain, the silky fabric an almost perfect match for the color of Sienna’s skin so that at first glance he had thought she was naked. Added to that, the halter neck meant she wasn’t wearing a bra.
His jaw tightened against a throb of mingled desire and irritation. Ankle length and discreetly cut, the gown paid lip service to the dress code he had demanded she follow, while subtly undermining it at every turn.
Beside him Lucas let out a low whistle.
“Look too long,” Constantine said calmly, “and I’ll put your eyes out.”
When he had been dating Sienna, to avoid the press they hadn’t gone out together at night. Normally, when he had been in Sydney, he had picked her up from work and taken her back to his apartment, or he’d followed her home to her place. The clothes she’d worn had been elegant, sleek, businesslike and sexy; he had barely noticed them.
The only other clothes he had seen had been her casual at-home gear, a bikini that had driven him crazy and her underwear, which for the most part had been tantalizing, but practical. What Sienna did or didn’t have in her wardrobe hadn’t interested him. Until now.
Zane, who had flown in from the States that morning for the resort opening, watched Sienna with his usual cool assessment. If Lucas was a shade on the wild side, Zane was worse, but he had the good sense to stay quiet about it. A couple of years on the streets of L.A. after he had run away from his mother’s fourth marriage, and before they had managed to track him down, had left their mark. On the surface Zane was cool and calm with a killer charm. He never lacked for feminine company, but it was a fact that he didn’t trust any of the women he had dated.
Zane sipped the beer he’d been nursing for the past twenty minutes. “It could be worth it. I notice she didn’t bring her accountant with her.”
Or anyone else, Constantine thought with grim satisfaction.
Lucas lifted a brow. “No briefcase, either.”
No briefcase. No bra.
Zane took another swallow of his beer. “She doesn’t look happy to be here.”
Rub salt into the wound, Constantine thought bleakly. But at least she wasn’t carrying that damned sample case.
“You don’t need this,” Lucas said bluntly.
Constantine’s expression remained impassive. He hadn’t discussed what had happened in Sydney, nor would he, but he was aware that Lucas knew exactly how focused he was on the CEO of Ambrosi Pearls.
He could have left the talking to their legal team. The options were clear-cut and his people were very, very good. Unless Sienna produced a large check, The Atraeus Group owned Ambrosi. But since those intense moments across the gravesite, this had ceased to be about the money.
At least for him.
He watched as Sienna paused to talk to an exquisitely dressed Japanese couple, her cool poise at odds with the off-the-register passion and fire that had seared him in Sydney.
The reason Sienna was in Medinos was simple. Aside from the fact that he wanted to make love to her again, he needed to know just how far she would go to clear the debt. The thought that she would agree to sleep with him in order to influence the negotiations wasn’t something he wanted to dwell on, but after the debacle two years ago, and the fact that she had let him make love to her so easily the other night, he couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility.
“The situation with the water rights has…complicated things,” he explained to his brother.
Lucas shook his head. “The only real complication I can see is ten meters away and closing.”
Zane finished his beer and set the glass down, his expression wry. “Ciao. Watch your back.”
Constantine’s gaze narrowed as a male guest moved in on Sienna. His jaw tightened when he recognized Alex Panopoulos.
His phone vibrated. He registered the Sydney number of the security firm he had used to investigate the Ambrosi family. As he lifted the phone to his ear, Sienna turned to speak to Panopoulos. If he’d thought the front view of the dress was daring, the back of the gown was nonexistent. “It’s not my back that’s the problem.”
* * *
Sienna managed to extricate herself from Alex Panopoulos on the pretext that she had to check her wrap. Pausing in a quiet alcove decorated with marble statuary and lush, potted palms, she folded the transparent length of champagne gauze into almost nothing and stuffed it into her evening bag. What she really wanted was a few moments to study the room and see if she could spot Northcliffe, the de Vries rep she was scheduled to meet with in the morning.
She caught a glimpse of Constantine, darkly handsome in evening dress as he talked into a cell phone, and her heart pounded hard.
Nerves still humming, she merged with the flow of guests while she examined that moment of raw panic.
Every time she remembered that she had encouraged Constantine to make love to her, her stomach clenched. Like it or not, where Constantine was concerned she was vulnerable, and the emotional risk of getting too close was high.
A waiter cruised past. She refused an array of canapés, too on edge to either eat or drink until she had identified Northcliffe. Pausing beside a glass display, she studied a series of gorgeously detailed pieces of jewelry, advance samples of tomorrow’s product launch. For a timeless moment the room and the nervy anticipation dissolved and she was drawn into the fascinating juxtaposition of lucent tourmaline and smoothly worked gold.
She wasn’t a designer. When it came to creating art or beautiful jewelry, she was utterly clueless. Her passion had always been the business side of things. Her father used to jokingly proclaim that she had the heart of a shopkeeper. It was a fact that she was never happier than when she was making a sale.
A faint tingling at her nape made her stiffen.
A glimpse of broad shoulders increased her tension.
If that was Constantine, then he had crossed the room, which meant he had seen her.
“Sienna. Glad you could make it.”
She saw taut cheekbones and a tough jaw, but it wasn’t Constantine. It was his younger brother, Lucas.
With his slightly battered features, courtesy of two seasons of professional rugby in Australia, and his smoldering bad-boy looks, he was undoubtedly hot.
Lucas had once tried to date Carla. Fatally, he had made his move after Constantine had walked out on Sienna and before Lucas had realized the wedding was off. Carla, who was loyal to a fault, had taken no prisoners and the public spat at a fabulous new nightclub had become the stuff of legend.
Magazines had lined up for the short time both Ambrosi girls had hit the publicity limelight, although Carla had handled the attention a lot better than Sienna. With her PR mind-set she had decided to view the fight with Lucas as a gold-plated opportunity to boost Ambrosi Pearls’ profile, and thanks to her, orders had flooded in.
“You know me, Lucas.” She checked out the last place she had seen Constantine. “Gold, jewels, objets d’art. I couldn’t resist.”
“You look like one of Constantine’s objets d’art yourself.”
Sienna countered his comment with a direct look. The dress she wore was sexier and more revealing than anything she would normally have worn to a business occasion, but in this case it was warranted. The gown had been used in their latest advertising campaign. Harold Northcliffe, who should have received the glossy press kit she had expressed to his Sydney office, would instantly recognize it. The jewelry itself was a set of prototypes they had designed with de Vries and the sophisticated European market in mind. “If you want to score points off me, Lucas, you’re going to have to try harder than that. The dress belongs to Carla.”
The amusement flashed out of his dark gaze. “It was the jewelry that really caught my eye.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in jewelry design.” Lucas was known as The Atraeus Group’s “hatchet man.” His reputation was based more on corporate raiding than the creative arts.
“Not normally,” he murmured, an odd note in his voice, “but I’m certain Constantine will be. When I first saw you I thought you were wearing a traditional set of Medinian bridal jewels. Quite a publicity stunt considering that you used to be engaged to Constantine.”
Dismayed, Sienna touched the pearls at her throat. The pieces she was wearing were based on her grandfather Sebastien’s original drawings. The delicate choker consisted of seed pearls woven into classical Medinian motifs, with a deep blue teardrop sapphire suspended from the center. Matching earrings with tiny drop sapphires dangled from her ears, and an intricate pearl bracelet studded with sapphires encircled her wrist.
“Speaking of the devil,” Lucas murmured, looking directly over her shoulder.
A hot tingle ran down Sienna’s spine. The knowledge that Constantine was directly behind her and closing in was so intense that for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
Even though she was prepared, the confrontation was a shock. Dressed in a formal black evening suit, Constantine seemed taller, physically broader and, in that first moment, coldly remote. Although the impression of remoteness disappeared the instant she met his glittering gaze.
“We need to talk.”
