His Final Bargain(2)

If Leo had made the hallway seem small, he made the sitting room look  like something out of a Lilliputian house. She grimaced as his head  bumped the cheap lantern light fitting. 'You'd better sit down,' she  said, surreptitiously closing the magazine and putting it beneath the  others in the stack. 'You have the sofa.'                       
       
           



       

'Where are you going to sit?' he asked with a crook of one dark brow.

'Um … I'll get a chair from the kitchen … '

'I'll get it,' he said. 'You take the sofa.'

Eliza would have argued over it except for the fact that her legs  weren't feeling too stable right at that moment. She sat on the sofa and  placed her hands flat on her thighs to stop them from trembling. He  placed the chair in what little space was left in front of the sofa and  sat down in a classically dominant pose with his hands resting casually  on his widely set apart strongly muscled thighs.

She waited for him to speak. The silence seemed endless as he sat there quietly surveying her with that dark inscrutable gaze.

'You're not wearing a wedding ring,' he said.

'No … ' She clasped her hands together in her lap, her cheeks feeling as if she had been sitting too close to a fire.

'But you're still engaged.'

Eliza sought the awkward bump of the solitaire diamond with her fingers. 'Yes … yes, I am … '

His eyes burned as they held hers, with resentment, with hatred. 'Rather  a long betrothal, is it not?' he said. 'I'm surprised your fiancé is so  patient.'

She thought of poor broken Ewan, strapped in that chair with his vacant  stare, day after day, year after year, dependent on others for  everything. Yes, patient was exactly what Ewan was now. 'He seems  content with the arrangement as it stands,' she said.

A tiny muscle flickered beneath his skin in the lower quadrant of his  jaw. 'And what about you?' he asked with a pointed look that seemed to  burn right through to her backbone. 'Are you content?'

Eliza forced herself to hold his penetrating gaze. Would he be able to  see how lonely and miserable she was? How trapped she was? 'I'm  perfectly happy,' she said, keeping her expression under rigidly tight  control.

'Does he live here with you?'

'No, he has his own place.'

'Then why don't you share it with him?'

Eliza shifted her gaze to look down at her clasped hands. She noticed  she had blue poster paint under one of her fingernails and a smear of  yellow on the back of one knuckle. She absently rubbed at the smear with  the pad of her thumb. 'It's a bit far for me to travel each day to  school,' she said. 'We spend the weekends together whenever we can.'

The silence was long and brooding-angry.

She looked up when she heard the rustle of his clothes as he got to his  feet. He prowled about the room like a tiger shark in a goldfish bowl.  His hands were tightly clenched, but every now and again he would open  them and loosen his fingers before fisting them again.

He suddenly stopped pacing and nailed her with his hard, embittered gaze. 'Why?'

Eliza affected a coolly composed stance. 'Why … what?'

His eyes blazed with hatred. 'Why did you choose him over me?'

'I met him first and he loves me.' She had often wondered how different  her life would have been if she hadn't met Ewan. Would it have been  better or worse? It was hard to say. There had been so many good times  before the accident.

His brows slammed together. 'You think I didn't?'

Eliza let out a little breath of scorn. 'You didn't love me, Leo. You  were in love with the idea of settling down because you'd just lost your  father. I was the first one who came along who fitted your  checklist-young, biddable and beddable.'

'I could've given you anything money can buy,' he said through tight  lips. 'And yet you choose to live like a pauper while tied to a man who  doesn't even have the desire to live with you full-time. How do you know  he's not cheating on you while you're here?'

'I can assure you he's not cheating on me,' Eliza said with sad irony.  She knew exactly where Ewan was and who he was with twenty-four hours a  day, seven days a week.

'Do you cheat on him?' he asked with a cynical look.

She pressed her lips together without answering.

His expression was dark with anger. 'Why didn't you tell me right from  the start? You should have told me you were engaged the first time we  met. Why wait until I proposed to you to tell me you were promised to  another man?'

Eliza thought back to those three blissful weeks in Italy four years  ago. It had been her first holiday since Ewan's accident eighteen months  before. His mother Samantha had insisted she get away for a break.

Eliza had gone without her engagement ring; one of the claws had needed  repairing so she had left it with the jeweller while she was away. For  those few short weeks she had tried to be just like any other single  girl, knowing that when she got back the prison doors would close on her  for good.                       
       
           



       

Meeting Leo Valente had been so bittersweet. She had known all along  their fling couldn't go anywhere, but she had lived each day as if it  could and would. She had been swept up in the romantic excitement of it,  pretending to herself that it wasn't doing anyone any harm if she had  those few precious weeks pretending she was free. She had not intended  to fall in love with him. But she had seriously underestimated Leo  Valente. He wasn't just charming, but ruthlessly, stubbornly and  irresistibly determined with it. She had found herself enraptured by his  intellectually stimulating company and by his intensely passionate  lovemaking.

As each day passed she had fallen more and more in love with him. The  clock had been ticking on their time together but she hadn't been able  to stop herself from seeing him. She had been like a starving person  encountering their first feast. She had gobbled up every moment she  could with him and to hell with the consequences.

'In hindsight I agree with you,' Eliza said. 'I probably should've said  something. But I thought it was just a holiday fling. I didn't expect to  ever see you again. I certainly didn't expect you to propose to me.  We'd only known each other less than a month.'

His expression pulsed again with bitterness. 'Did you have a good laugh  about it with your friends when you came home? Is that why you let me  make a fool of myself, just so you could dine out on it ever since?'

Eliza got to her feet and wrapped her arms around her body as if she  were cold, even though the flat was stuffy from being closed up all day.  She went over to the window and looked at the solitary rose bush in the  front garden. It had a single bloom on it but the rain and the wind had  assaulted its velvet petals until only three were left clinging  precariously to the craggy, thorny stem. 'I didn't tell anyone about  it,' she said. 'When I came back home it felt like it had all been a  dream.'

'Did you tell your fiancé about us?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

She grasped her elbows a bit tighter and turned to face him. 'He wouldn't have understood.'

'I bet he wouldn't.' He gave a little sound of disdain. 'His fiancée  opens her legs for the first man she meets in a bar while on holiday.  Yes, I would imagine he would find that rather hard to understand.'

Eliza gave him a glacial look. 'I think it might be time for you to leave. Your five minutes is up.'

He closed the distance between them in one stride. He towered over her,  making her breath stall again in her chest. She saw his nostrils flare  as if he was taking in her scent. She could smell his: a complex mix of  wood and citrus and spice that tantalised her senses and stirred up a  host of memories she had tried for so long to suppress. She felt her  blood start to thunder through the network of her veins. She felt her  skin tighten and tingle with awareness. She felt her insides coil and  flex with a powerful stirring of lust. Her body recognised the intimate  chemistry of his. It was as if she was finely tuned to his radar. No  other man made her so aware of her body, so acutely aware of her primal  reaction to him.

'I have another proposal for you,' he said.

Eliza swallowed tightly and hoped he hadn't seen it. 'Not marriage, I hope.'

He laughed but it wasn't a nice sound. 'Not marriage, no,' he said. 'A business proposal-a very lucrative one.'

Eliza tried to read his expression. There was something in his dark  brown eyes that was slightly menacing. Her heart beat a little bit  faster as fear climbed up her spine with icy-cold fingers. 'I don't want  or need your money,' she said with a flash of stubborn pride.

His top lip gave a sardonic curl. 'Perhaps not, but your cash-strapped community school does.'

She desperately tried to conceal her shock. How on earth did he know?  The press article hadn't even gone to press. The journalist and  photographer had only just left the school a couple of hours ago. How  had he found out about it so quickly? Had he done his own research? What  else had he uncovered about her? She gave him a wary look. 'What are  you offering?'