Purchased By The Billionaire. HELEN BIANCHIN

too much for her to take in.

      She watched as Duardo walked around the car and slid in behind the wheel.

      It was difficult to see his expression in the dim interior of the car, and she stared blankly at the night scene beyond the windscreen.

      ‘I want to see the paperwork detailing your takeover.’

      She had to know.

      ‘I’ll instruct my lawyer to supply you with a copy.’

      The Aston Martin purred to life, and she sat in strained silence as the car traversed the city streets. Duardo offered the opportunity for a life free from debt, the fulfillment of her brother’s dream.

      Jacob was all she had, and he deserved this chance.

      So, too, did she. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. For the love of God…didn’t she?

      The alternative…

      Don’t go there. It serves no purpose.

      There was only now. And she’d deal with it. She had to.

      The car drew to a halt in the narrow inner-city suburban street where she lived.

      A late-model four-wheel-drive was parked nearby, and she stood still as Duardo paused to speak with the driver before indicating the entrance to her apartment.

      Dim lighting didn’t disguise the dingy surroundings, or the well-trodden wooden stairs as she ascended them ahead of him. Chipped paint, and the faint but distinct smell of decay.

      Double locks on the door protected a pitiful space with minimal furniture, worn furnishings and the lack of personal touches. It was simply a place to sleep, not to live.

      ‘Collect what you need.’

      It didn’t take long to transfer her meagre belongings into one bag and place Jacob’s possessions into another. ‘The landlord—’

      ‘Spence has already dealt with it.’ He indicated the small foldaway table. ‘Leave the key.’

      Kayla looked at him in silent askance as he caught hold of both bags.

      ‘I made a few calls from the hospital.’

      To people who were paid to jump instantly to attention at his slightest command.

      Wealth…extreme wealth, she mentally corrected, had its distinct advantages.

      It took only minutes to descend the stairs and pass through the shabby entrance onto the pavement. Almost instantly, a dark figure moved forward to take both bags from Duardo’s grasp and deposit them in the rear of the four-wheel-drive.

      ‘Spence.’ Duardo clarified and completed the introduction before turning towards her. ‘Let’s go.’

      Was it too late to change her mind? Could she?

      Yes…and no.

      She was barely aware of Spence sliding behind the wheel until she heard the engine engage and saw the four-wheel-drive ease away from the kerb.

      There went all her worldly possessions.

      Kayla spared Duardo a vengeful look that lost most of its effect in the dim evening light. ‘Mind-reading is one of your talents?’

      ‘You want to argue?’ His voice was deceptively mild, yet she sensed steel beneath the surface.

      ‘Not particularly.’

      He crossed to the car, disarmed the alarm, opened the passenger door and stood waiting for her to get in.

      Which she did, with considerable grace and no apparent reluctance. A lesson in the game of pretense, she accorded, aware it was the first of many she’d be required to play in the coming months.

      Oh, tell it like it is, she chided silently as the car whispered through the busy streets.

      Duardo had specified…wife.

      A warm and willing body in his bed. A social hostess.

      What if she fell pregnant?

      A groan rose and died in her throat. Protection…she had none. Hadn’t used or needed it.

      ‘Nothing to say?’

      Kayla spared his profile a steady glance. ‘I’m plotting your downfall.’

      His soft chuckle curled round her nerve-ends.

      ‘You don’t believe me?’

      ‘I believe you’ll try.’

      ‘Count on it.’ She glanced idly at the changing scene as the Aston Martin entered the eastern suburbs, where the inner-city shabby abodes were replaced with classy apartment buildings, well-kept homes guarded by walls and ornate gates.

      Duardo, according to the media, resided in a luxurious Point Piper mansion overlooking the inner harbour, bought at the time of his marriage, but never lived in by her.

      It was purported he’d brought in a team of builders, gutted the interior and virtually redesigned the internal structure before spending a veritable fortune on fittings and furnishings.

      A fortress, Kayla observed, guarded by hi-tech security, and accessible only to those authorised to enter.

      Well-positioned lighting revealed beautifully tended lawns and gardens, a curving driveway leading to an elegant mansion, and it was impossible not to feel the acceleration of nervous tension as Duardo brought the car to a halt beneath the wide portico.

      One of two large double doors opened to frame a slender middle-aged woman.

      ‘Maria,’ Duardo indicated quietly as he released his seat belt. ‘My housekeeper.’

      Spence, Maria—

      ‘Her husband, Josef, takes care of the grounds and maintenance.’

      And Josef comprised the complement of staff. Live-in?

      ‘There are two self-contained flats above the garages. Maria and Josef occupy one, Spence the other.’

      Kayla slid out from the car, and, introductions complete, she entered the magnificent marble-tiled lobby.

      Huge, with a curved double staircase leading to the upper floor, exquisite lighting, gleaming dark furniture and a number of beautifully carved wooden doors guarding various rooms.

      There would, she determined, be panoramic views over the harbour during the day, with a fairyland of lights at night.

      ‘There is coffee, or tea if you’d prefer,’ the housekeeper relayed quietly and incurred Duardo’s thanks. ‘The bags have been taken up to the master suite.’

      Kayla’s stomach took a backwards flip…at least, that was what it felt like! She didn’t want to think about the bedroom, much less go there.

      ‘Tea would be lovely.’ And a delaying tactic. ‘Perhaps I could freshen up, first?’

      Duardo indicated the staircase. ‘Of course.’

      Two different wings, one comprised of a few guest suites and an informal lounge, while the other held three bedrooms each with adjoining en suites, with the master suite in prominent position overlooking the harbour.

      A large room, with a spacious alcove containing two comfortable chairs, an antique desk and a television cabinet. Two en suite bathrooms, two walk-in wardrobes.

      She avoided looking at the bed…the very large bed.

      ‘You have a beautiful home.’

      ‘A compliment, Kayla?’

      ‘You doubt I can gift you one?’

      He shrugged out of his suit jacket and spread it over a valet frame, then he tugged off his tie and loosened the top button of his shirt before moving to the door. ‘When you’re ready, take the second door on your left at the base of