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

among the guests.

      ‘You had no need to negotiate on my behalf,’ Cassandra declared, annoyed at his intervention. ‘I was more than capable of handling him.’

      Diego shot her a mocking glance, which proved a further irritation. Did he think blonde and naïve automatically went hand-in-hand?

      Wrong. ‘He saw me admiring it, figured I was an easy mark, so he spun a sentimental tale with the aim to double his profit margin.’ She lifted one eyebrow and deliberately allowed her mouth to curve in a winsome smile. ‘How am I doing so far?’

      His lips twitched a little. ‘Just fine.’

      Cassandra inclined her head. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘I can’t wait to see your follow-up action.’

      ‘Watch and learn.’

      ‘At a guess,’ he inclined indolently, ‘you’ll file a complaint with the gallery owner, who’ll then offer to sell you the sculpture at a figure less than its purported value, as a conscience salve for the sculptor’s misrepresentation.’

      A slow smile curved her mouth, and her eyes sparkled with musing humour. ‘You’re good.’

      Cassandra was discreet. No doubt it helped her father was a known patron of the arts, and the name Preston-Villers instantly recognisable. Apologies were forthcoming, she arranged payment and organised collection, then she turned to find Alicia deep in conversation with Diego.

      Nothing prepared her for the momentary shaft of pain that shot through her body. It was ridiculous, and she hated her reaction almost as much as she hated him.

      Diego del Santo was merely an aberration. A man who’d callously manipulated a set of circumstances to his personal advantage. So what if he was a highly skilled lover, sensitive to a woman’s needs? There were other men equally as skilled… Men with blue-blood birth lines, educated in the finest private schools, graduating with honours from university to enter the fields of commerce, medicine, law.

      She’d met them, socialised with them…and never found the spark to ignite her emotions. Until Diego.

      It was insane.

      Was Alicia his current companion? Certainly she’d seen them together at a few functions over the past month or so. There could be no doubt Alicia was hell-bent on digging her claws into him.

      ‘Cassandra—darling. I was hoping to find you here. How are you?’

      There were any number of society matrons in the city, but Annouska Pendelton presided at the top of their élite heap.

      The air-kiss routine, the firm grasp of Annouska’s manicured fingers on her own formed an integral part of the greeting process.

      Annouska working the room, Cassandra accorded silently, very aware of the matron’s charity work and the excessively large sums of money she managed to persuade the rich and famous to donate to the current worthy cause.

      ‘How is dear Alexander?’ There was a click of the tongue. ‘So very sad his health is declining.’ There was a second’s pause. ‘I see you’re with Diego del Santo this evening. An interesting and influential man.’

      ‘Yes,’ Cassandra agreed sweetly. ‘Isn’t he?’

      Annouska’s gaze shifted. ‘Ah, Diego.’ Her smile held charm. ‘We were just talking about you.’

      He stood close, much too close. If she moved a fraction of an inch her arm would come into contact with him. The scent of his cologne teased her nostrils, subtle, expensive, and mingled with the clean smell of freshly laundered linen.

      ‘Indeed?’ His voice was a lazy honeyed drawl that sent all her fine body hairs on alert.

      ‘You must both come to next month’s soirée.’ The matron relayed details with her customary unfailing enthusiasm. ‘Invitations will be in the mail early in the week.’ She pressed Cassandra’s fingers, then transferred them to Diego’s forearm. ‘Enjoy the evening.’

      ‘Would you like coffee?’ Diego queried as Annouska moved on to her next quarry.

      What I’d like is to go home to my own apartment and sleep in my own bed…alone. However, that wasn’t going to happen.

      Already her nerves were playing havoc at the thought of what the night would bring.

      ‘No?’ He took hold of her hand and threaded his fingers through her own. ‘In that case we’ll leave.’

      She attempted to pull free from his grasp, and failed miserably. ‘Alicia will be disappointed.’

      ‘You expect me to qualify that?’

      Cassandra didn’t answer, and made another furtive effort to remove her hand. ‘Must you?’

      It took several long minutes to ease their way towards the exit, and she caught Alicia’s venomous glare as they left the gallery.

      ‘Do you mind?’ This time she dug her nails into the back of his hand. ‘I’m not going to escape and run screaming onto the street.’

      ‘You wouldn’t get far.’

      ‘I don’t need to be reminded I owe you.’

      The Aston Martin was parked adjacent to the gallery and only a short-distance walk. Yet he didn’t release his grasp until he’d unlocked the car.

      She didn’t offer so much as a word during the drive to Point Piper, and she slid from the seat the instant Diego brought the car to a halt inside the garage.

      It wasn’t late by social standards, but she’d been in a state of nervous tension all day anticipating the evening and how it would end.

      Dear heaven, she knew what to expect. There was even a part of her that wanted his possession. What woman wouldn’t want to experience sensual heaven? she queried silently.

      So why did she feel so angry? Diego del Santo wasn’t hers. She had no tags on him whatsoever. He was free to date anyone, and Alicia Vandernoot was undoubtedly a tigress in bed.

      Wasn’t that what men wanted in a woman? A whore in the bedroom?

      A hollow laugh rose and died in her throat as she preceded Diego into the house.

      ‘Would you like something to drink?’ He undid his tie and unbuttoned his jacket.

      Cassandra continued towards the stairs. ‘Play pretend?’ She reached the elegantly curved balustrade and began ascending the stairs. ‘In order to put a different context on the reason I’m here?’

      ‘A man and a woman well-matched in bed?’ Diego countered silkily, and she paused to turn and face him.

      ‘It’s just…sex.’ And knew she lied.

      Without a further word she moved towards the upper floor, aware of the sensual anticipation building with every step she took.

      The warmth, the heat and the passion of his possession became a palpable entity, and she hated herself for wanting what he could gift her, for there was a part of her that wanted it to be real. The whole emotional package, not just physical sex.

      Yet sex was all it could be. And she should be glad. To become emotionally involved with Diego would be akin to leaping from a plane without a parachute.

      Death-defying, exhilarating…madness.

      Cassandra made her way along the gallery to the main bedroom, and once there she stepped out of her stiletto-heeled pumps, removed her jewellery, then reached for the zip fastener of her gown.

      She was aware of Diego’s presence in the room, and the fact he’d retrieved her overnight bag. Her fingers shook a little as she took it from him and retreated into the en suite.

      Minutes later she removed her make-up, then she unpinned her hair and deliberately avoided checking her mirrored image.

      Showtime.