November Harlequin Presents 1(152)

‘I don’t fancy it.’

‘The coffee or telling me why you’re here?’

‘Either, if you must know!’

She really had to stop trying to be flippant. It was getting her nowhere and was obviously starting to rile him. The way that he compressed his lips into a thin, hard line told her that he was fighting to hold back the sort of acid retort that would be capable of flaying half the skin from her ears just to hear it.

‘So what is it you have to hide?’

‘Nothing—it’s just…’

‘Rebecca!’ Andreas’ tone was low, almost soft, but it was the softness of the hiss of a hooded python, just before it struck with deadly force, and it made Becca flinch inwardly simply to hear it. ‘Tell me…tell me now why you are here or pack your bags and get out of my life—and this time make it for good.’

If she did that then she would never be able to help Daisy—and she would never be able to see him ever again. Right now, Becca couldn’t begin to think which of those two possibilities hurt most. But then the truth was that when her heart was one mass of pain, how could she tell if any one particular spot was worse than any other?

‘Can’t you guess?’ she muttered, low and uneven.

‘I want you to tell me,’ Andreas returned, face rigid, expression unyielding.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she no longer cared if she sounded desperate; it was how she felt. ‘You always said I’d come back for money and—well, here I am.’

‘You came for money?’ He actually sounded—what? He couldn’t be disappointed but that was the note that was in his voice.

‘Don’t sound so surprised, Andreas—you always knew this would happen! You should have made that bet you wanted—the one where you said that I’d come looking for cash before the year was up. Because you’d have been right. Here I am and it’s money I’m after.’

It was the only way she could get it out. She couldn’t go on her knees and beg. And for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to talk about Daisy—not yet. She didn’t feel strong enough, brave enough, to open herself up to him like that. Not after all that had happened and the brutal damage he had inflicted on her heart. So she’d gone on to the attack, wanting to lash out, repay hurt with hurt.

‘Money for what?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘To me it does.’

‘But you’ve been proved right. That should give you immense satisfaction. I’ve shown myself to be the greedy—’

‘It gives me no satisfaction,’ Andreas cut in, cold and flat. ‘No satisfaction at all. If you want the truth I would rather you had stayed away for ever than that you turned up here like this—for this.’

How the hell could anyone think it would give him satisfaction to be proved right like this? He had once loved this woman, once wanted her to be in his life for ever—and she had betrayed him even before the vows had been spoken.

Wasn’t that what his dream had been about? About the way that he had had warning of what she was really like and yet had gone ahead with their wedding all the same. He had wanted to believe in her, to trust her, to put his faith in the one woman he had ever loved with all his heart. And so because he had loved her he had married her, convinced that the terrible things he had heard about her were lies.

And found out that they were the truth.

Did she think that he really would enjoy going through that hell all over again?

‘So tell me—what is it for? Have you gambled yourself into ruin? Spent a fortune you don’t possess? Developed an appalling cocaine habit?’

‘I would never do that!’ Becca protested, looking horrified that he would even consider it. ‘No, none of those.’

At least that was some sort of a relief. But it still left the other, less endurable reason why she might want the money.

‘Then why do you want the money so badly? Who do you want it for?’

‘Who?’

Becca’s head came up and she stared into his face with obvious confusion clouding her eyes.

‘Who would I—?’

‘Let me make it plain so you have no chance of misunderstanding: tell me that this money is not for him—not for Roy Stanton.’

‘Roy…no—no, it’s not!’

It was almost convincing but he had seen the way that her eyes had dropped, just for a split-second, her sea-coloured gaze sliding away as she gathered herself, thought hastily and then nerved herself to face him again.

‘It’s not for him.’

Andreas couldn’t sit there any longer looking into her beautiful face, into those wide, brilliant eyes, and know she wasn’t telling the truth. He couldn’t stand to watch those soft, full lips frame the lies that made his disgust a fury of rage inside his head.