'Not at all, if she has anything to do with it.'
'Let me guess,' Sandrine posed. 'Tomorrow? On what grounds?'
Raoul lifted one eyebrow. 'Do I require any?'
No, of course he didn't, she dismissed. All he had to do was exert a measure of innate charm and women fell at his feet. Stephanie, she perceived, could prove to be an exception.
The waiter came with his main course and appeared affronted when Raoul dismissed his spiel before he even had the chance to begin with it.
'How long will it take to wrap up filming?' Raoul queried as he sliced into a succulent fillet of beef.
'I have another day scheduled. Maybe two at the most,' Sandrine told him. 'Tony is hopeful two weeks will do it.'
'I understand you have to remain on call for the possibility of retakes, publicity, promotion?'
'Yes.'
Raoul turned towards Michel. 'You intend remaining on the Coast?'
'Sydney,' Sandrine interjected. 'I have family there. If the studio calls me in, I can take the next flight out and be here the next day.'
'Aren't you forgetting something, chérie?' Michel queried silkily.
'You?' Her smile was a little too wide and too bright.
'So brave,' he mocked lightly.
Foolish, she amended silently, for thinking she could best him. Verbally, physically, or mentally.
'Dessert?'
'Coffee,' she said firmly, aware of the need to be decisive. 'Liqueur. Kahlua.'
Michel beckoned the waiter, conferred with Raoul, indicated their order, then requested the bill.
'The account has been settled, m'sieur.'
'I think you're mistaken.'
'No, m'sieur. The lady who was dining with you instructed the account be billed to her credit card.'
Sandrine hid a smile. Stephanie had managed to score on two counts. She'd walked out on Raoul Lanier and she'd added insult to injury by taking care of the bill.
'It appears Ms Sommers is a young woman to be reckoned with,' Michel commented dryly.
'Indeed.'
She detected mockery in Raoul's drawled response and was unable to suppress a grin. 'I'm with Stephanie.'
Both men sent her a level glance.
'Take her home,' Raoul instructed as he rose to his feet. 'And hush her mouth.'
Michel's eyes gleamed with humour. 'I intend to,' he said, suppressing a laugh.
Raoul accompanied them through the foyer to the main entrance and stood while the concierge summoned their car.
'Sweet dreams,' Sandrine teased as she bade Raoul goodnight, then slid into the passenger seat.
His expression was unreadable, and she gave a soft chuckle as Michel eased the car down to street level. Unless she was mistaken, Raoul had met his match, and she, for one, was going to enjoy watching the game!
CHAPTER SEVEN
SANDRINE focused her attention on the scene beyond the windscreen as the car entered the flow of northbound traffic.
The night was clear, the air sharp, and the lighted windows of various high-rise apartment buildings vied with far distant stars in an indigo sky.
'Shall we continue where we left off?'
She cast Michel a steady glance, aware that the night's shadows were highlighting the angles and planes of his face.
Her voice assumed unaccustomed cynicism. 'It won't change the fact that we had a major fight over my decision to fulfil an acting contract.'
He smote a clenched fist against the steering wheel, and she looked at him in startled disbelief.
'Mon Dieu. This is not about you pursuing a career.' He paused at a roundabout, waiting for two cars to circle and exit. 'It's about us being together. Not me being forced to spend time in one city while you're on the other side of the world in another. Comprends?'
'It was unavoidable.'
'It need not have been if you'd enlightened me about the audition at the time,' Michel enunciated with restraint. 'Thus giving me the opportunity to implement a contingency plan.' He directed her a dark look returning his attention to the road. 'I won't allow it to happen again.'
She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. 'Excuse me? You won't allow it?'
'No,' he reiterated hardily. 'In future there will be no misunderstandings, no assumptions. We communicate and leave nothing in doubt.'
'I'm not sure we have a future,' she countered wretchedly, and could have bitten her tongue for uttering the foolish words.
'Oh, yes, we do, mignonne.' His voice was deadly soft.
'How can you say that?'
'Easily.'
'What about unresolved issues?'
'Name them,' Michel challenged.
'You,' Sandrine began, crossing each of his sins off on her fingers. 'Keeping tabs on me, investigating everyone to do with the film, conspiring to come up with a financial rescue package and making me a condition. Blackmail,' she asserted finally, 'is a criminal offense.'
'You're the wife of a wealthy man whose access to a family fortune makes anyone associated with me a prime target. Ransom, extortion, kidnapping. Of course I had someone watch over you.'
'You could have told me! How do you think I'd have reacted if I saw someone following me?'
'You refused to take or answer any of my calls, remember?' he retorted. 'And I pay for the best. Not some amateur who'd frighten you by being visible.'
'What did he do?' she demanded, immeasurably hurt. 'Report whom I spoke to, where I went, what I did … every minute of every day?'
'It wasn't about my lack of trust in you,' he bit out angrily. 'It was about protection. Yours.'
'It was an invasion of privacy. Mine.' She was on a roll and couldn't seem to stop. 'I hate you for it.'
'So hate me, mignonne. At least I knew you were safe.'
'I guess the film running overtime and over budget played right into your hands. It gave you a lever, a figurative gun to hold to my head. Do what I say, or else.' She directed him a fulminating glare. 'I'll never forgive you for that.'
"'Never" is a long time.'
'It's as long as my lifetime.'
'Tell me,' Michel drawled. 'What did you intend to do when filming was completed?'
'Visit my family.'
'And afterwards?'
That was in the hazy future and something she'd deliberately not given much thought.
'I don't know,' she admitted honestly, and grimaced at the husky oath that rent the air.
'You don't know.' He raised both hands off the wheel, then gripped it hard. 'Next you'll tell me you intended contacting me through a lawyer.'
'I suppose it was a possibility.'
'Not telephoned me? Or caught a flight home?'
'Where is home, Michel?' she queried wryly. 'You have a residential base in several cities. I'd have had to have your secretary check on your whereabouts at the time.'
'Sacré bleu. You have my personal cell phone number where you can reach me anywhere at any time!'
'Maybe I wouldn't have wanted to!'
'Did it not occur to you that I might have taken all that into consideration and put, as you so cynically called it, "a figurative gun" to your head?'
The car slowed almost to a halt, and Sandrine was startled to see Michel activate the security gate permitting access to the Sanctuary Cove residential suburb. Seconds later the gate slid open and they drove through.
'Believe me, I would have used any weapon I had.'
'Blackmail, Michel?'
'You wouldn't answer my calls. If I arrived on your doorstep, would you have let me in?'
'Probably not.' At least, not at first. Her initial instinct would have been to slam the door in his face. The next … call the police? No, she refuted silently. She wouldn't have gone that far.
Was he right insisting on an enforced reconciliation? Putting them in the same residence, giving her no choice in the matter?
Within minutes they reached the villa, and once inside she crossed to the stairs and made her way up to the main bedroom.
For weeks she'd been so angry with Michel, herself, the circumstances that had caused the dissent between them. Now there was a degree of self-doubt, a measure of regret … and pain.
In the bedroom she slipped off her shoes and crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window. She made no attempt to draw the drapes as she looked out across the bay to the brightly lit restaurant cantilevered over the water.
Within a few days she'd leave here and probably not return. Sydney beckoned, and family. Her mother would be pleased to see her, likewise her father. But on separate occasions at different venues. She'd visit, take gifts, greet each of her step-siblings, and pretend she belonged.
She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the loneliness deep inside. An ache behind her eyelids culminated in tears that escaped and slid slowly down each cheek.
A faint sound, a slight movement, alerted her to Michel's presence, and she prayed he wouldn't turn on the light.
Sandrine sensed rather than heard him cross to stand behind her, then his hands closed over her shoulders as he drew her back against him.
'We made a deal, remember?'
'What deal are you referring to?'
'Never to spend a night apart. Except in circumstances beyond our control.'
So they had. And somehow taking a bit part in a movie being shot on the other side of the world didn't come close in the qualifying stakes of circumstances beyond our control.