Billionaire's Revenge(3)

Moving over to the drinks table, she poured herself a shot of straight vodka, downing the liquid in one gulp, gasping as the spirit burnt its way down her throat. Not one to normally drink, she felt the need for something to calm the way her whole body trembled as she waited for the ax to fall, the dread filling her more with each second that slipped away.

The fact he still harboured his grudge against her family was evident from the coldness of his look as they bumped in to each other, and her ‘invite’ to his suit she realised; a small panicky laugh bubbled up inside her as she dreaded his return. Something about the situation seemed so ‘meant to be’, she thought. Six years ago it had been her dishing out the punishment to the man who would soon enjoy doling out far worse to her.

Moving back to the seat, she stumbled on the long skirt of the dress she borrowed to allow her to attend that night’s event. She wanted to kick off the uncomfortable stilettos, but knew that when he did finally appear, she needed as much height to face him as possible. Sitting back down, she waited, waited for nearly an hour, each minute stretching her already taut nerves further and further to the breaking point.

The sound of the door being opened saw her leap to her feet, her body spinning round to face the man who entered, his stance relaxed and sure, hers stiff, coiled with the tension which filled her. “Why did you have your trained goon bring me here?”, she demanded, her voice higher and shriller than she intended, her attempt at sounding calm and cool failing even to her own ears.

Raising an eyebrow in mockery Darius Garelli moved over to the drinks table. “I think we both know why you AGREED to come to this room”, his tone smooth as he threw some ice-cubes into two glasses before pouring whiskey into one and vodka and fresh orange into another. As he did this, Sara fought to bring her breathing under control, her heart beating erratically in her chest as her eyes followed his every sure movement. Under her lashes she allowed her gaze to admire him.

He had always been handsome, but dressed in the tuxedo; the darkness of it only accentuated his good looks. His tall broad-shouldered slim-hipped frame filled the outfit so well, he was devastating. His slightly tousled hair was shorter than he used to wear it, but it was still thick and glossy, the front still looking as though it had defied his will for it to sit perfectly. The memory returned of the many times as a young woman this had made her want to reach up and fix it by running her fingers through it, the realisation that she wanted to touch him even then suddenly shocking to her. Dropping her gaze in confusion at the jolt of awareness that shot through her, she stepped back as he moved towards her, before he thrust one of the glasses into her trembling hands.

“If I remember correctly this was what you used to drink” Sara did not speak as she dumbly nodded, surprised that he would remember such a minuscule detail about her. Raising his glass, he took a sip of the golden liquid, his eyes unblinking as they watched her, those eyes glacial, taking in everything about her - his look predatory, the thought sending another tremor through her.

Silently, she took a large gulp of her drink before carefully placing it on the table beside him, seeing as for the first time his eyes held humour, relishing her discomfort she knew. Placing his drink beside hers he moved around her, his eyes openly running up and down her body, Sara feeling the heat flood her cheeks at his disrespectful scrutiny.

“So little Sara Balfour...all grown up”, stopping only feet before her. “And how you have grown up”, the innuendo so clear on his tone, Sara feeling the prickling anger give her the strength to stand taller. She had cursed Angela for talking her into wearing the cocktail dress, one that she would never have chosen. The front plunged as the material wrapped around her, clearly showing her cleavage, her breasts pulled together in the underwear her sister had chosen for her. Fighting hard not to cover herself with her hand she glared back at him.

“Don’t play with me Darius...I came here to talk to the CEO of Garelli Corporation. I didn’t realise it was you”, her voice full of the disappointment and despair she felt. “You changed your name”, her tone accusing as he gave a small smile. “I took my father’s name”, he explained, moving to lean against the table, Sara so unaware as she gave a sigh of relief at even this little bit more space between them. “He made it worth my while”, his voice tinged with an anger she did not understand. Taking another sip of his drink, he scrutinized her as his eyes again slid over her wonderful figure.

“So how exactly did you plan on getting the CEO of Garelli Corporation to hold back from throwing your sister into jail?” The question made her wince before her cheeks once more stained pink as he again rose, his finger gently running along her naked arm. “Because how can you be so sure that I might not be open to the same kind of persuasion?”