The Greek Bridegroom. HELEN BIANCHIN

she inclined with thoughtful contemplation, aware it was more than that. Leashed strength meshed with an animalistic sense of power, a combination which boded ill for any adversary.

      ‘I imagine you wheel and deal with cut-throat determination.’ She paused a beat. ‘Mostly you win.’ She doubted he ever lost…unless it was a deliberate tactical manoeuvre.

      ‘An interesting character analysis,’ Jace accorded with musing cynicism.

      The waiter removed dishes, and the wine steward refilled their goblets.

      Soft piano music provided a pleasant background for the muted buzz of conversation.

      ‘You have family in New York?’

      ‘Parents, one brother, two sisters, and several nieces and nephews.’

      Was he removed from them, too caught up being a high-flying entrepreneur and too involved in his own life?

      ‘My mother insists we all get together once a fortnight for a family dinner,’ Jace drawled. ‘Madness and mayhem would be an accurate description.’

      ‘But fun?’ She had a mental image of adults laughing, chiding children, noisy chatter and a table groaning with food and wine.

      ‘Very much so.’

      Did he take his women…it had to be plural, although presumably he was discriminative…to visit?

      ‘Not often, no.’

      Rebekah endeavoured to still her surprise, and failed. ‘You read minds?’

      ‘It’s an acquired skill.’

      ‘One in which you excel.’

      Jace inclined his head, but there was no arrogance apparent, just the assurance of a man well-versed in the vagaries of human nature and possessed of the ability to deal with them.

      It was during dessert that Rebekah happened to glance towards the restaurant entrance. Afterwards she couldn’t say what drew her attention there. Instinct, perhaps? Some deep, inner, protective element alerting her to danger?

      For a few heart-stopping seconds she prayed she was mistaken, but she’d have known that profile anywhere, the angle of his head…

      ‘What is it?’

      She registered Jace’s voice, and tried to tamp down the sick feeling that filled her stomach.

      ‘Rebekah?’

      Oh, God. Think, she bade silently. There’s a good chance he won’t see you, and if he does, what can he do?

      Plenty.

      Jace witnessed her pale features as the colour leeched from her cheeks, and her eyes had dulled an instant before she veiled them with her lashes. What, more relevantly who was responsible for rendering her as still as stone?

      ‘Do you want to leave?’ His voice was quiet, but serious in its intent.

      She wanted to say yes. Now, quickly, quietly.

      Except that was a coward’s way out, and she’d vowed the day she legally severed all ties with him she’d never allow Brad Somerville to intimidate her again. Ever.

      ‘My ex-husband has just walked in the door.’

      Was she aware that with so few words she’d conveyed so much? Somehow he doubted it.

      ‘Is it a problem?’

      If she stuck with the truth, how would Jace Dimitriades deal with it? A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat. Why in hell would he want to?

      ‘No,’ she denied, and knew she lied.

      Jace’s eyes narrowed as he observed her monitor her ex-husband’s progress towards a reserved table, and witnessed her fleeting expression the moment the man recognised her presence. It was neither embarrassment nor awkwardness…but fear.

      ‘Well, hello.’

      Rebekah kept her head erect, her eyes wide and steady. The action was a well-practised one, for she could never be sure what Brad’s next move might be.

      ‘Brad.’ The acknowledgement was stilted, remote.

      ‘Introduce me to your…companion.’

      ‘Jace Dimitriades.’ Jace’s voice held a faintly inflected drawl and was dangerously quiet, almost lethal. He made no effort to rise to his feet or take Brad’s extended hand.

      Rebekah saw something move in Brad’s gleaming gaze, recognised the early-warning sign of his temper, and felt her apprehension accelerate.

      Brad focused his attention on Rebekah. ‘Keeping it all in the family, darling?’

      ‘The maître d’ is waiting to show you to your table,’ Jace intimated with deceptive mildness. Although anyone with any nous would see it as a dismissal. Those who knew him would have quailed at the leashed savagery lurking just beneath the surface.

      Brad inclined his head. ‘Of course.’ His voice softened with silky threat. ‘Take care, Rebekah.’

      She hadn’t realised she’d been holding her breath until she released it, and she forced herself to pick up her spoon and scoop a small serving of fruit, then eat it.

      Calm? She felt the antithesis of calm. Yet she’d learned her lessons well, and it was far better to attempt normality. In the beginning, after the shock of discovering Brad’s dual personality, she’d gone through an entire gamut of emotions…from heartbreaking tears, to anger, remorse, dislike, only to discover it made things worse.

      ‘We can go somewhere else for coffee.’

      Rebekah picked up her water glass with a steady hand. ‘It’s OK.’

      Not, Jace determined as he surveyed her features. She was far too pale, and her actions were too rigidly controlled for his liking.

      Almost as if she guessed his intention to summon the waiter and request the bill, she voiced quietly, ‘Please, don’t.’

      ‘His presence here is making you feel uncomfortable.’

      Now, that had to be the understatement of the year.

      ‘You don’t understand.’

      His eyes narrowed, and she sensed a watchful quality evident. ‘You think if we leave, he’ll have won?’

      He was too astute for her peace of mind. ‘Yes.’

      ‘Meanwhile you eat food you no longer taste, sip water or wine while we wait for coffee,’ he pursued in a silky voice. ‘And tie your stomach in knots during the process.’

      She knew Brad’s modus operandi only too well. Interpretation of her ex-husband’s wild mood swings, anticipating his reactions had become an integral part of her survival.

      ‘It’s better this way,’ she said coolly.

      ‘Not for you,’ Jace declared with certainty, and saw the slight lift of her chin as she met his gaze.

      His own didn’t waver from hers as he ordered coffee from a hovering waiter, and he settled the bill, waited patiently for her to finish, then he led her from the restaurant.

      ‘I’ll take a taxi,’ Rebekah said stiffly, and incurred his swift dark glance.

      ‘The hell you will.’

      She didn’t say a word, couldn’t, for her throat was tight with nerves, and she walked at his side in silence, then slid into the passenger seat the instant he unlocked the car.

      It didn’t take long to reach her apartment building, and during the short drive she stared sightlessly out the window, unaware of the familiar scenery, the traffic.

      Her mind was filled with the scene in the restaurant, Brad, and the electric presence of the man seated within touching distance.

      ‘Thanks