A Past Revenge

Ellie was so pale now her eyes looked as dark as emeralds, her long hair tangled down her back. ‘Consolation gift?’ she repeated dazedly.

His expression was grim. ‘It’s just the sort of thing that little madam would do,’ he rasped. ‘And I’m glad she chose someone like you.’ He looked at her once again. ‘Anyone remotely resembling my wife would have turned me off completely.’ He stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray with vicious movements.

‘Your—your wife?’ She felt as if someone had just dealt her a painful body blow.

‘You can cut the cute little act now, Ellie,’ he derided. ‘I realise Carly asked you to send me those charming little messages across the room with your eyes to help me forget the fact that my wife served me with divorce papers today. And it has helped,’ he nodded, his eyes narrowed. ‘Now get your beautiful little body out of my bed,’ he bent down to slap her bottom hard. ‘I don’t want you any more tonight, pleasant as the experience may have been.’

Ellie had never felt so mortified in her entire life. She had had no idea until now that he had misunderstood her coy glances at him earlier, but she now knew the reason for the desperate drive behind his possession, realised that the ‘bad news’ he had received today had been his wife’s intention of divorcing him.

She could only stare at him now, not knowing how to defend herself. It was obvious he thought her as promiscuous as she knew Carly to be, that he thought the two of them had planned together that she should share his bed as a way of helping him forget his impending divorce. It was also obvious that he had mistaken her virginity and inexperience as a mechanical response to his lovemaking, so how was she now supposed to tell him she had fallen in love with him on sight, that he had taken her virginity! She couldn’t, not when he saw her only as a mild diversion in his bed.

‘I’m going to take a shower now,’ he told her. ‘You can use the other bathroom if you want to, but I want you to have left by the time I get back.’ He picked up his jacket for a second time, taking out a leather wallet, pulling several notes from inside it, putting them on the dressing-table. ‘Take a cab home,’ he ordered. ‘I don’t feel like going out again tonight, and I don’t want you walking alone at this time of night.’

‘Please—–’

‘Not enough?’ he raised dark brows mockingly, misunderstanding the reason for her protest. ‘Maybe not,’ he acknowledged with a humourless smile. ‘But you aren’t very experienced at this sort of thing yet. Complacence may have been what I wanted tonight, but I can assure you most men will want more than that. Maybe you could give me a call when you’ve learnt to show a little more fire and enthusiasm,’ he dismissed derisively, pausing at the door. ‘And don’t try and rip me off once I’ve gone to shower,’ he warned in a pleasantly threatening voice. ‘I’ll have you arrested so fast you won’t know what’s hit you.’ He closed and locked the bathroom door behind him, the shower running seconds later.

Ellie had listened to him with increasing wide-eyed incredulity, the reality of what he thought her to be becoming apparent by the second. He certainly didn’t believe her to be a friend of Carry’s! She moved slowly from the bed to pick up the money he had thrown down so casually, counting it as if in a dream. Two hundred pounds!

Danielle came back to shuddering reality, the humiliation she had suffered at Nicholas Andracas’s hands that night something she had never forgotten. It had been the first time in her nineteen years that someone had treated her with such contempt, and although he may have forgotten her existence in the last seven years—may have forgotten her the moment he entered that bathroom for all she knew!—she had never forgotten him, not even for a day.

The news of Nick’s divorce had hit the newspapers a couple of days after she met him, his wife accusing him of adultery several times over. After her own experience with him she could quite well believe that Beverley Andracas probably deserved the millions of dollars she received in settlement from him. Any woman who could stay married to such a man for four years deserved everything she could get out of him.

But her main worry now was whether or not he would recognise Danielle Smith, successful portrait painter, as Ellie Smith, the girl he had once paid for going to bed with him? God, that must have been a novel experience for him, he had probably never paid a woman for sex in his life before! He would never need to.

But she was still worrying about whether he would recognise her as she waited for him and Audra McDonald to arrive at her apartment the next afternoon. If he didn’t remember her she could carry out this meeting with some degree of dignity, but if he should remember her …! The consequences of that didn’t bear thinking about, and she tried not to.

When the doorbell rang promptly at two o’clock she took her time about answering it, checking her appearance in the mirror one last time. The denims and loose green top weren’t an act of defiance on her part, more a need to be wearing something so completely different than the sophisticated black evening gown she had been wearing the last time she met Nick Andracas. Her outward appearance had changed the last seven years, her hair was styled shorter now, her once slightly rounded face smoothed out to high cheekbones and angled features, her whole bearing one of maturity now rather than a raw adolescence.

She deliberately trained her attention on Audra McDonald as she opened the door, ignoring the man who stood arrogantly at her side, although she was instantly aware of him, sensing that same charged electricity she had known in him seven years ago. Audra McDonald was as beautiful as her photographs proclaimed her to be, although the sharp brown eyes were narrowed assessingly on Danielle, as if gauging her attractiveness, the brief contempt registered there dismissing her as unimportant. That suited Danielle perfectly, she wanted as little tension and unpleasantness from this commission as possible.

Although she wasn’t sure she could count on that to continue as she took the other couple through to the lounge, turning to find the brown eyes were no longer scornfully dismissing, snapping with anger now as Audra McDonald saw and recognised her lover’s open interest in Danielle. Danielle was forced to recognise it too as she also met the warmth in narrowed grey eyes.

Nick had changed little in the last seven years, the black hair showing flecks of grey, the cynicism in his expression deepened, but otherwise he was the same devastatingly attractive man she had once fallen instantly in love with. She felt a similar leap of her senses to the one she had felt that night, although she remained outwardly cool and uninterested, maturity showing her how best to handle this meeting.

‘Do you have any idea what sort of portrait you would like?’ she addressed her question to Audra McDonald, although she wasn’t altogether surprised when Nick Andracas answered.

‘We know exactly what sort of portrait we want, Miss Smith,’ he told her smoothly. ‘It’s a requirement of the play Miss McDonald is in, and will be presented to her at the end of the play’s run.’

‘Oh,’ she nodded understanding, giving no indication that his gravelly sensuous voice meant anything to her, her interest wholly professional as she listened to him explain the details of the portrait needed.

‘You have precisely one month to complete the portrait to our requirements, Miss Smith,’ he finally concluded. ‘We need it for the opening night.’

‘Of course,’ she acknowledged stiltedly. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘And I’m sure that will be good enough,’ he returned huskily, his eyes darkly caressing.

She refused to meet that gaze, deliberately turning to the actress who had sat quietly at his side on the sofa as he talked. ‘When would you like to begin your sittings, Miss McDonald?’

Anger still burned deep in the brown eyes. ‘Is that really necessary?’ she drawled in a bored voice. ‘Wouldn’t a photograph do?’

Danielle shook her head, all the time aware that narrowed grey eyes never left her face. But they contained no grain of recognition of the past, she was sure of that, saw her only as the beautiful woman she was now. ‘I’m afraid I can’t work that way,’ she explained politely. ‘Although I could recommend someone else who—–’

‘No,’ Nick Andracas cut in abruptly. ‘I want you to do the portrait.’

‘Really, Nick,’ Audra McDonald turned to him impatiently, her beautiful mouth pouting provocatively. ‘Do I have to sit around here for hours on end, bored out of my mind?’

‘Yes,’ his answer was uncompromising.

Her hand came to rest on his thigh. ‘I’d much rather spend the time with you.’

He looked at her without emotion. ‘You’ll come here as often as Miss Smith requires you to.’

‘But, Nick—–’

‘Audra!’ He didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t need to, his tone enough to silence his mistress.

Danielle witnessed the exchange with a certain amount of embarrassment. That the fiery Audra McDonald was about as ‘tamed’ as she could be when with this man was obvious, her expression now rebellious, although she raised no more objections. Danielle did not like the other woman in the least, but she could feel sorry for her. ‘I doubt I’ll need to trouble you for more than one or two sittings,’ again she ignored Nick Andracas, talking to the actress. ‘And probably only for an hour or so at a time, perhaps on a Saturday morning if that’s convenient?’

Brown eyes shot Nick Andracas a resentful glare, although he seemed immune to it. ‘I suppose Saturday is all right,’ she agreed ungraciously. ‘Although it will have to be in the afternoon,’ she gave her lover a smouldering look from beneath long lashes. ‘I don’t like to get out of bed early.’

‘What time is most convenient for you, Miss Smith?’ Nick Andracas ignored the actress’s effort to flirt with him, removing her hand pointedly from his thigh, his mouth a thin straight line of disapproval at the intimacy.

Danielle was beginning to get the feeling she had been brought in on the middle of a lovers’ tiff. Or perhaps this was the way Nick always treated his mistress? He had been cruel and unfeeling in the past, perhaps those emotions had just intensified with the passing of the years. ‘The afternoon will be fine,’ she said coolly. ‘About two o’clock?’

He nodded. ‘I believe Mr Vaughn has told you the details of your fee?’ he raised dark brows in challenge, as if he already knew of her refusal to accept the amount he had offered.

‘It’s too much,’ she met his challenge. ‘You will get the bill for the usual amount once the portrait is completed. If my work is satisfactory.’

The grey eyes rekindled with interest. ‘I’m sure it will be.’

‘Only time will tell.’ She had a feeling Audra McDonald wasn’t going to be an easy subject to paint. Besides the fact that she didn’t actually like the other woman, there was the problem of her brittle hardness to contend with, a quality they didn’t want in the portrait, she felt sure. ‘I—–’ she broke off as the telephone began to ring, surmising it to be Lewis wanting to know how the meeting had gone. He was a little premature. ‘Excuse me,’ she gave a bright meaningless smile in the other couple’s direction before picking up the receiver.

‘Ellie?’

She instantly recognised her father’s voice, some of the tension leaving her. ‘How are you?’ she asked warmly, listening as he went on to tell her briefly about the holiday he and her mother had just taken. ‘Dinner tonight?’ she repeated his suggestion. ‘That would be lovely.’ She rang off a few minutes later, turning to find narrowed grey eyes levelled on her, displeasure etched into the harsh features. ‘Sorry about that,’ she felt compelled to make the apology. ‘Now where were we?’

‘I believe we had just about concluded the meeting,’ Nick Andracas rasped harshly, standing up, the three-piece suit in charcoal grey fitting his lithe masculinity to perfection. ‘Miss McDonald will be here at two o’clock on Saturday.’

The other couple left so abruptly Danielle was left with a sense of anti-climax, although she had to admit to a certain amount of relief too. The meeting had been as much of a strain as she had thought it would be, although at least she had been spared the humiliation of recognition. Nick had seen her only as Danielle Smith, although there could be no doubt that he found her attractive in that capacity. He was a dangerous man for any woman to find attractive, had been lethal for her all those years ago.

When the telephone rang half an hour later she felt sure that this time it had to be Lewis. It was not.

‘Danielle, will you have dinner with me this evening?’

There was no need for him to identify himself, she recognised his voice immediately. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Andracas, I already have an appointment this evening,’ she refused frostily, a telephone call from him so soon after he had left the last thing she had been expecting.

‘So I heard,’ he bit out. ‘I want you to break it.’

Now she knew the reason for his abruptness before he left. She had thought he had been annoyed that she had taken the telephone call while he was here, instead he had been eager to drop off his mistress so that he could ask her for a date! The cold-blooded arrogance of the man. ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question.’ She thought back on the conversation he had overheard, realising that not once had she identified her caller as her father. ‘I really couldn’t let my friend down at such short notice,’ she added with throaty insinuation.

For a moment there was angry silence on the other end of the telephone. ‘Tomorrow?’ he finally rasped.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘You’re seeing the same man again then?’

‘Possibly,’ she evaded lying.

‘In other words you don’t wish to go out with me?’ he said dryly.

‘That’s right,’ she acknowledged coldly.

He gave a throaty laugh at her honesty. ‘But I always get what I want, Danielle. And I wanted you the moment I set eyes on you.’

‘Wouldn’t Miss McDonald have something to say about this?’ she taunted with sarcasm.

‘No,’ he answered abruptly. ‘She wouldn’t. She doesn’t own me, no woman does.’

‘I’m really very sorry, Mr Andracas,’ she snapped. ‘But I really have no desire to go out with you, either now or in the forseeable future.’

‘I can be very persistent when I want something,’ he warned throatily.

‘And I can be just as determined myself. Goodbye, Mr Andracas,’ she rang off before he could say any more, sitting down abruptly. He hadn’t changed at all, was still the arrogant bastard who had once paid her to go to bed with him.

She moved dazedly into her bedroom, going straight to the green onyx jewellery box that stood on her dressing-table, lifting the lid with shaking fingers. The twenty pound notes inside instantly unfolded, as crisply new as the day she had received them. Danielle had no need to count them, she already knew exactly how much money there was there.

After Nick had gone into the shower that night she had dressed in a daze before leaving, not realising until she reached home and the sanctuary of her bedroom that she had stuffed the ten twenty pound notes which Nick had so contemptuously tossed at her in her handbag. At first she had wanted to take it straight back, but the thought of facing his mocking derision for a second time that night hadn’t appealed to her at all in her still shocked state. She decided to post it back to him. By morning she had changed her mind about that, deciding to keep the money as a reminder of the man who had paid her two hundred pounds for her virginity. And she had never forgotten him, hated him now as she had hated him then.

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