The Billionaire's Bride of Convenience(31)

In desperation he put on the radio, thereby stopping any further conversation. She settled to staring out of the passenger window, leaving Hugh to wonder and worry what she might be thinking.





She was a mystery all right. Normally, he didn’t have any trouble reading women. Their behaviour towards him was quite transparent. Kathryn was an enigma. Clearly, she wasn’t harbouring any secret passion for him. At the same time, she didn’t seem overly bothered by the prospect of going to bed with him. She’d enjoyed his kisses.





But not as much as he’d enjoyed kissing her.





That had been a mistake on his part, kissing her. You didn’t give a man dying of thirst a tiny sip of water, then snatch the rest of it away without expecting him to go crazy.





Hugh felt as if he was going crazy at that moment. His reaching Ashfield could not come soon enough. He wouldn’t walk her to the door. He’d wait in the car till she got her birth certificate, then he would be off and away from temptation.





Hopefully, by the time he had to face her again the following Monday, he’d have himself firmly under control.





Meanwhile, the drive down the motorway back to Sydney seemed endless. Half an hour later they reached the edges of the city, then, after another forty frustrating minutes of negotiating Friday-afternoon traffic, Hugh turned into Kathryn’s street in Ashfield.





The clock on the dashboard showed five past four as he eased the Ferrari into the kerb outside her block of flats.





‘Wait here,’ she said as she immediately opened the passenger door and started getting out, her jacket and handbag in her hands. ‘I won’t be long.’





Her sinking back down into the seat startled him, so did her distressed groan.





‘What is it?’ he asked a bit sharply.





‘That car over there,’ she said, pointing to a dark blue Falcon parked in a guest bay at the front of the building. ‘That’s Daryl’s car.’





Maybe if Hugh were in a calmer frame of mind, he’d have been able to control the surge of violent anger which washed through him. As it was, he didn’t even try.





‘Good,’ he bit out. ‘Save me having to go find the bastard for myself.’





Kathryn’s head whipped round, alarm on her face. ‘You’re not going to do anything silly, are you? I mean Daryl was brought up in a very tough neighbourhood.’





He had to smile. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I can handle myself. Come on, let’s go see what he’s up to.’





Even before she led Hugh up the stairs to her first-floor flat, Kathryn felt sick with apprehension. If Daryl was there, he wasn’t going to appreciate her being with Hugh. Things were sure to turn very nasty indeed.





Daryl was standing on the landing, spray-painting something onto the door. He whirled when he heard footsteps behind him, his eyes showing surprise at seeing Kathryn at this hour of the day. When he saw Hugh behind her, however, his surprise quickly turned to guilt.





Kathryn soon saw why: the word SLUT had been painted in bold red letters on the wood-grained door.





Kathryn watched, wide-eyed, as Hugh pushed past her and advanced on Daryl, grabbing him by his shirt collar, pressing him back against the wall and hauling him up onto his toes so that they were eye to eye.





‘If I ever see your ugly face anywhere near Kathryn again,’ Hugh said in a voice which was chillingly cold, ‘I’ll have you arrested for assault. And libel,’ he added, nodding towards the door. ‘Don’t even begin to imagine that you’ll get off. I’m a very wealthy man and I have one hell of a lot of contacts in the legal profession. Do I make myself clear?’





Daryl nodded with astonishing meekness.





‘I would also suggest you find yourself another job, in another city, in another state. You’re no longer welcome in this town. Now, I’ll just see you to your car,’ he ground out, and started pushing Daryl towards the staircase, one hand cupped at the back of Daryl’s neck, the other firmly on his shoulder. ‘Wouldn’t want you falling down and hurting yourself. I’ll be back shortly, Kathryn,’ he threw over his shoulder at her. ‘Go inside and put on the kettle.’





Kathryn didn’t go inside. She just stood there, staring rather blankly after Hugh, her mind still dazed by what had just happened. There she’d been, worrying about Daryl’s temper, worrying about what he might do to Hugh.





That worry had been totally misplaced. Hugh had been right when he’d said he could handle himself. He certainly could.