The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen

access between upper and lower floors. There was a resident housekeeper, as well as Sylvie, the live-in nurse.

      Cassandra rang the bell, then used her key to enter the marble-tiled lobby.

      It tore at Cassandra’s heart each time she visited, seeing the man who had once been strong reduced to frail health.

      Tonight he appeared more frail than usual, his lack of motor-skills more pronounced than they had been a week ago, and his appetite seemed less.

      She looked at him, and wanted to weep. Cameron seemed similarly affected, and attempting to maintain a normal façade took considerable effort.

      There was no way she’d allow anyone to upset Alexander. Not Cameron, nor Diego del Santo.

      She made the silent vow as she drove back to her apartment. The determined bid haunted her sleep, providing dreams that assumed nightmarish proportions, ensuring she woke late and had to scramble in order to get to work on time.

      Confronting Diego del Santo was a priority, and given a choice she’d prefer to beard him in his office than meet socially over a shared meal.

      Which meant she’d need to work through her lunch hour in order to leave an hour early.

      Cassandra found it difficult to focus on the intricate attention to detail involved with the creative-design project for an influential client.

      Diego del Santo’s image intruded, wreaking havoc with her concentration, and consequently it was something of a relief to pack up her work and consign it to the security safe before freshening her make-up prior to leaving for the day.

      Del Santo Corporation was situated on a high floor of an inner-city office tower, and Cassandra felt a sense of angry determination as she vacated the lift and walked through automatic sliding glass doors to Reception.

      ‘Diego del Santo.’ Her voice was firm, clipped and, she hoped, authoritative.

      ‘Mr del Santo is in conference, and has no appointments available this afternoon.’

      She made a point of checking her watch. ‘Put a call through and tell him Cassandra Preston-Villers is waiting to see him.’

      ‘I have instructions to hold all calls.’

      Efficiency. She could only admire it. ‘Call his secretary.’

      A minute…Cassandra counted off the seconds…a woman who could easily win secretary-of-the-year award appeared in Reception. ‘Is there a problem?’

      You betcha, Cassandra accorded silently, and I’m it. ‘Please inform Diego del Santo I need to see him.’

      A flicker of doubt. That’s all she needed. Yet none appeared. Was his secretary so familiar with Diego’s paramours, she knew categorically that Cassandra wasn’t one of them?

      ‘I have instructions to serve drinks and canapés at five,’ his secretary informed. ‘I’ll mention your presence to him then.’

      It was a small victory, but a victory none the less. ‘Thank you.’

      Half an hour spent leafing through a variety of glossy magazines did little to help her nervous tension.

      Staff began their end-of-day exodus, and she felt her stomach execute a painful somersault as Diego’s secretary moved purposely into Reception.

      ‘Please come with me.’

      Minutes later she was shown into a luxurious suite. ‘Take a seat. Mr del Santo will be with you soon.’

      How soon was soon?

      Five, ten, thirty minutes passed. Was he playing a diabolical game with her?

      Nervous tension combined with anger, and she was almost on the point of walking out. The only thing that stopped her was the sure knowledge she’d only have to go through this again tomorrow.

      Five more minutes, she vowed, then she’d go in search of him…conference be damned!

      The door swung open and Diego walked into the room with one minute to spare.

      ‘Cassandra.’

      She rose to her feet, unwilling to appear at a disadvantage by having him loom over her.

      ‘My apologies for keeping you waiting.’ He crossed to the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window, turned his back on the magnificent harbour view, and thrust one hand into his trouser pocket.

      Her expression was coolly aloof, although her eyes held the darkness of anger. ‘Really? I imagine keeping me waiting is part of the game-play.’

      Sassy, he mused, and mad. It made a change from simpering companions who held a diploma in superficial artificiality.

      ‘If you had telephoned, my secretary could have arranged a suitable time,’ Diego inferred mildly.

      ‘Next week?’ she parried with deliberate facetiousness, and incurred a cynical smile.

      ‘The very reason I suggested we share dinner.’

      ‘I have no desire to share anything with you.’ She paused, then drew in a deep breath. ‘Let’s get down to business, shall we?’ She indicated the sheaf of papers tabled together in a thick folder. ‘I have the requisite proof, and a copy of your offer. Everything appears to be in order.’

      ‘You sound surprised.’

      Cassandra swept him a dark glance. ‘I doubt there’s anything you could do that would surprise me.’

      ‘I imagine Cameron has relayed the deal is subject to a condition?’

      Her eyes glittered with barely repressed anger. ‘He said it was personal. How personal?’

      ‘Two separate nights and one weekend with you.’

      She felt as if some elusive force had picked her up and flung her against the nearest wall. ‘That’s barbaric,’ she managed at last.

      ‘Call it what you will.’

      It took her a few seconds to find her voice. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because it amuses me?’

      Was this payback? For all the invitations he’d offered and she’d refused…because she could. Now, her refusal would have far-reaching implications. Did she have the strength of will to ruin her father, the firm he’d spent his life taking from strength to strength?

      ‘An investment of twenty-three million dollars against all sage advice, allows for—’ he paused deliberately ‘—a bonus, wouldn’t you say?’

      She didn’t think, or pause to consider the consequences of her actions. She simply picked up the nearest thing to hand and threw it at him. The fact he fielded it neatly and replaced it down onto his desk merely infuriated her further.

      ‘Who do you think you are?’ Her voice was low, and held a quality even she didn’t recognise.

      Stupid question, she dismissed. He knew precisely who he was, what he wanted, and how to get it.

      ‘I’d advise you to think carefully before you consider another foolish move,’ Diego cautioned silkily.

      Her eyes sparked brilliant blue fire. ‘What did you expect?’ Her voice rose a fraction. ‘For me to fall into your arms expressing my undying gratitude?’

      She didn’t see the humour lurking in those dark depths. If she had, she’d probably throw something else at him.

      ‘I imagined a token resistance.’

      Oh, he did, did he? ‘You realise I could lay charges against you for coercion?’

      ‘You could try.’

      ‘Only to have your team of lawyers counter with misinterpretation, whereupon you withdraw your financial rescue package?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Emotional