‘You’ve got a visitor,’ she observed, dismayed. All she had been hoping to do was take a shower and then somehow find the courage to tell Andreas that she couldn’t possibly stay there in his home another minute. How could she ever reclaim her self-respect if she did?
‘No,’ he said unequivocally, pulling a key out of the pocket of his joggers. ‘Take it. It’s yours,’ he informed her, handing it to her.
Magenta’s immediate instinct was to recoil from his offer ‘What’s this for?’ she challenged. ‘Services rendered?’ She couldn’t believe how much she was hurting inside.
He shot her a surprisingly censuring look. ‘For services yet to be fulfilled,’ he enlightened her. ‘If you’re going to be working for me—however long it’s going to be—you’re going to need some form of transport. I can’t always put a car and Simon at your disposal.’
‘Andreas.’ She had stopped on the verge of the lawn where it met the shingle drive, refusing to take the key he was still holding out to her. ‘I really don’t think this is a good idea. Us working together.’
‘Working together?’ He was looking at her askance, his sapphire eyes too intense, too probing. ‘Or do you mean sleeping together?’
‘Yes. No. I mean both.’
A thick eyebrow lifted almost indiscernibly. ‘You didn’t seem to have too many qualms about it last night.’
‘Last night I was...affected.’
‘By what?’ he challenged roughly. ‘It certainly wasn’t alcohol. You didn’t even sip that champagne you were given for the toasts.’
‘You know what I mean. Last night changes everything.’
‘Why? Because you refuse to admit that there’s something between us that even you can’t fight?’
‘It’s only sex.’ Dear heaven! Listen to me! she thought, despairing at herself, and wondered at the dark emotion that flitted across his face.
‘Yes, I know,’ he accepted phlegmatically. ‘But we always knew that, didn’t we? Or at least you did. Is it so bad, meeting me on the same level now? Surely it’s preferable to come together on equal terms, knowing there’s no commitment or strings attached on either side. Knowing that I’m not going to embarrass you by dropping to my knees and asking you to marry me this time. Knowing that no one’s going to get hurt.’
Only me, Magenta thought. Because now Andreas Visconti had learned his lesson. There was no way he would ever open his heart or lay his emotions on the line for her again.
‘I’m not staying here,’ she told him firmly. ‘And I’m not taking the car. Oh, I know you think I can be bought. And, all right, maybe I let myself be bought once. But like you I learnt the hard way that what we want isn’t always right for us, and that all the things we think are important can be wiped out in just a minute. As for material things—well, they just don’t count. So I’d rather not be made to feel indebted to you, if it’s all the same to you.’
Her hands were stuffed inside the front-facing pockets of her track top as she started walking again, her eyes focussing straight ahead on the house while she strove to blink bright, betraying tears away, her trainers crunching over the shingle.
‘Is that why you left the dress in my room? And the other things I bought you? Because they made you feel indebted to me?’
‘What do you think?’ She didn’t even look at him, just kept on walking.
‘I told you they were a business expense,’ he reminded her.
‘Well, that’s a fancy name for it, isn’t it?’ she decried bitterly. ‘You wanted me in your bed just to satisfy a warped need for revenge. I knew it and I still went ahead and slept with you. But I’ve remembered, Andreas. I remember everything. I just hadn’t realised until now how much you must have wanted to hurt me. And OK, perhaps it was with good cause—but can you have any idea of how I’m feeling now?’
‘Magenta—’
‘Yes, I’ll bet you can!’ She carried on across the drive, past the beautiful bronze car that would have made the young Magenta jump at the chance of owning it. She sent only a disparaging glance towards it. ‘Well, you’ve paid me back, and you must be feeling so good—especially in view of the amazingly short time you had to wait! But I’m not going to—’
‘Magenta!’ Hard fingers caught her arm as she mounted the terrace steps, pulling her to a swift and determined stop. ‘What happened...happened. There wasn’t any intended sense of revenge or malice behind it.’