A Passionate Surrender. HELEN BIANCHIN

him more…the loss of trust in one of his valued executives, or the fact William Stanford had relied on his daughter’s connection by marriage to avoid prosecution.

      ‘How long have you known?’ Ana queried with a sense of dread, unwilling to examine where this was going, yet desperately afraid her wildest suspicion would be proven true.

      ‘Nine days.’

      Coincidentally the time she wrote him a note and took a flight north. Did he think that was the reason she left?

      Men of Luc’s calibre always had a back-up plan. And this was personal. Very personal.

      ‘What do you want, Luc?’

      ‘No divorce. Our child.’ He waited a beat. ‘My wife in my home, my bed.’

      ‘Go to hell.’

      One eyebrow rose in mockery. ‘Not today, agape mou.’

      Pink coloured her cheekbones and lent her eyes a fiery sparkle. ‘You think you can make conditions and have me meekly comply?’

      ‘Meek wasn’t a descriptive I considered.’

      Dear heaven, he was amused. She stood to her feet, gathered her bag and slung the strap over her shoulder, then she turned in the direction of the florist shop, aware that Luc fell into step at her side.

      ‘I intend explaining to the letting agent and my employer that you’re a presumptuous, arrogant bastard with no right to dictate my life.’

      ‘And your father will go to jail.’

      Her step faltered as she threw him a look that would have felled a lesser man. ‘How come you get to make the rules?’

      ‘Because I can.’

      ‘And I get to choose whether to resume my marriage to you, in return for no charges laid against my father.’ There was no doubt Luc viewed this as just another business proposition. Well, damn him. She’d do the same. ‘What of restitution?’

      ‘It will be taken care of.’

      ‘And his job?’

      ‘Already terminated.’

      She was dying inside, inch by inch. ‘His references?’ she pursued tightly.

      ‘I have a duty of disclosure.’

      Something that would make it almost impossible for her father to gain a similar position anywhere in Sydney…possibly even the country.

      ‘I’ll think about it,’ Ana conceded, endeavouring to ignore the prickle of apprehension steadily creating havoc with her nervous system.

      His eyes were hard, their expression implacable. ‘You have an hour.’

      She closed her eyes, then opened them again, and released the breath she’d unconsciously held for several seconds.

      ‘Are you this diabolically relentless in the business arena?’ Stupid question, she mentally castigated. His steel-willed determination and ruthless decision-making had earned him a reputation as one of the city’s most feared negotiators.

      His silence sent an icy chill feathering the length of her spine, and she cursed him afresh.

      They reached the florist shop, and she turned towards him, her eyes gleaming with hidden anger as she met and held his dark gaze.

      ‘There are a few conditions.’

      His gaze hardened, and he resisted the urge to shake her within an inch of her life. ‘You’re hardly in a position to stipulate conditions.’

      Did he know how much she hurt? Just looking at him caused her physical pain, remembering the hopes and dreams she’d held, only to have them shatter one by one.

      She began counting off the fingers of one hand. ‘I want your word you won’t attempt to deny me my child once it’s born.’

      Something moved in his eyes, an emotion she didn’t care to define. ‘Granted.’

      ‘Your fidelity.’

      ‘You’ve had that since day one.’

      She looked at him long and hard, then lifted an eyebrow in silent query. ‘Not according to Celine.’

      ‘Naturally, you choose to believe her over me.’ His dry tones held a damning cynicism she chose to ignore.

      ‘There’s just one more thing,’ she pursued.

      It was impossible to tell much from his expression, and she didn’t even try.

      ‘And that is?’

      ‘I want it all in writing and legally notarised before I give you my answer.’

      As an exit line it took some beating, and she didn’t look back as she stepped into the florist shop.

      ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’

      Stiff formality replaced a former easy friendliness, and Ana silently cursed Luc afresh.

      ‘I’m responsible for my own decisions,’ she assured evenly. Her gaze was steady as the silence stretched into seemingly long seconds before the shop’s owner offered,

      ‘He doesn’t look the type of man who’d take no for an answer.’

      Wasn’t that the truth! ‘I can give you this afternoon, if that’s OK?’

      ‘I’ve already put in a call to the employment agency.’

      What else did she expect?

      ‘Are you going to return to Sydney with him?’

      ‘Possibly.’ Ana deposited her bag out back, and checked the order book, then she set to work.

      Concentration was the key, but all too frequently it wavered as she examined one scheme after another, only to discard each of them. Where could she go that Luc wouldn’t find her?

      A faint shiver raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck. If he’d had a private investigator following her every move, it was feasible the man was still on duty. It gave her a creepy feeling, and made her incredibly angry.

      Luc had played the game with consummate skill in presenting her with a coup de grâce.

      But the game had only just begun, and she intended to play by the rules…her own.

      CHAPTER TWO

      HOW long would it take Luc to consult a lawyer and have the requested paperwork completed? With his influence and connections, she doubted he’d have a problem.

      The shop was busy, there were several phone orders, and people walked in off the street to select purchases. Single roses, bouquets, cut flowers for a special hospital visit…the requests were numerous and varied.

      She was in the middle of assembling decorative Cellophane and gathering baby’s breath when the door buzzer sounded for the umpteenth time. She automatically glanced up from her task to greet the new customer, and saw Luc observing her actions.

      There was an element of formidability existent, a sense of purpose that was daunting, and Ana was conscious of an elevated sense of nervous tension.

      Her hands paused as her gaze locked with his, then she bent her head and focused on fashioning pink and white carnations into an elaborate spray.

      Ribbon completed the bouquet, and she attached the completed card, the instruction slip, then transferred it to the delivery table.

      ‘Are you done?’ Luc queried silkily, his gaze caught by a tendril of hair that had worked its way loose from her pony-tail, and he restrained the urge to sweep it back behind her ear.

      She shot him a cool glance. ‘I finish at six.’

      The atmosphere in the room seemed suddenly charged, and she could almost feel the latent electricity