His Delicious Revenge: The Price of Retribution / Count Valieri's Prisoner / The Highest Stakes of All

‘And what about you? How have you managed to avoid serious involvement?’ She spoke lightly, but she was stepping on to dangerous ground and she knew it, as her clasped fingers tightened painfully in her lap.

‘It’s never been a deliberate thing,’ he said, after a pause. ‘Until a year or so ago, hauling the company back from the brink occupied most of my time and energy. When the money men finally stopped scowling, I decided I could take life a little more easily. But that was all.

‘Because I never pretended to the girls I dated that I was looking for any kind of permanent relationship. And most of them were looking for fun rather than commitment too, so we generally managed to reach a consensus that suited us both.’

She said, ‘But there must have been some who hoped you would offer more.’

His mouth tightened, and he looked past her, his eyes suddenly remote. ‘If so,’ he said. ‘That would be their problem, not mine.’

And one of those problems is locked away in a private hospital that’s more like a prison, you unutterable bastard…

She said quietly, ‘I shall consider myself warned.’

‘That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.’ His tone was almost fierce. ‘Give me the chance and I’ll prove it to you. And whatever happened in the past is over—for both of us.’

The desserts appeared, and Tarn forced herself to eat the rich, creamy concoction with its sharp fruit counterpart with every sign of appreciation.

So where did the expensive diamond ring he’d given Evie feature in this no-commitment scenario? she asked herself. Or was that how he paid his women for services rendered?

She remembered a story she’d heard when she was a child about a girl finding the man she was to marry was another Bluebeard and exposing his guilt by flinging the severed and bejewelled ring finger of one of his victims on the table in front of him at their betrothal banquet.

If she could find Evie’s ring, she thought, throwing it at him in some public place would make a splendid denouement for the moment when he finally learned the truth about her. When he discovered it was his turn to be deceived and callously dumped.

And now, she thought, steeling herself, it’s time to proceed to the next stage.

So when coffee was offered, she declined, with an anxious glance at her watch.

‘My flatmate will be wondering where I am.’

‘You’re not living at your cousin’s place?’

‘It’s minute,’ she said. ‘My stuff would fill it, and I don’t want her to come home and feel squeezed out, so I’ve moved in temporarily with a friend.’

‘While you look for a place of your own?’ Caz asked as he dealt with the bill.

‘Perhaps. I haven’t decided yet.’ She picked up her bag. ‘However—thank you for a wonderful meal. You’ve been—’ she hesitated ‘—very kind.’

‘And it’s equally kind of you to say so.’ There was a touch of wryness in his tone. ‘My driver will be coming to pick me up in a few minutes. May I add to my good works and offer you a lift?’

‘I think you’ve done enough,’ she said. ‘At least for one evening.’

The hazel eyes danced. ‘Is that a hint that there may be another in the offing?’

‘It’s a promise to think about it,’ Tarn said sedately. ‘Nothing more.’

‘Then I shall simply have to hope for the best.’

They were outside now, and he hailed a cruising taxi for her.

She gave the driver the address, burningly conscious that Caz was standing right beside her. Would he try to kiss her? She couldn’t be sure.

But he merely opened the cab door and held it for her to climb in.

‘That’s dangerous thinking.’ As she prepared to do so, she managed an impish smile. ‘I might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.’

He said softly, ‘I’ll take that risk.’

He handed the driver some money and stood back. As the cab sped off, Tarn wondered if he was watching, but nothing in the world could have persuaded her to turn and look.

You think the past is over? she whispered under her breath. Oh, no, Mr Brandon, it’s right here waiting for you. And I’m your unexpected nightmare.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_2fcee1c3-ae4c-5405-b9fc-a561b993b3bc)

‘YOU had dinner with him?’ Della stared at her, open-mouthed. ‘With the Demon King? How—and why?’

Tarn shrugged. ‘I was working late, he came back for his briefcase and we met. It was just—happenstance.’

‘If one can believe in such a thing,’ Della said with a touch of grimness. ‘So tell me about it.’

‘He took me to a wonderful restaurant, great food, fabulous wine—and he came on to me.’

‘In what way?’ Della leaned against the kitchen worktop. ‘The direct approach? “My place or yours?”’

‘Far from it.’ Tarn poured herself some coffee, and refilled Della’s beaker. ‘A well-practised speech full of love, romance and “the first time I saw you” stuff.’ She gave a contemptuous snort. ‘My God, even if Evie wasn’t involved, I’d want to see him get his comeuppance. It shows how little respect he has for women. He must think I’m a total idiot if he expects me to fall for that old routine.’

Della’s eyes widened. ‘So, your life has been punctuated by men laying their lives at your feet, is that what you’re saying?’

‘No, of course not.’ Tarn frowned. ‘But—oh, hell, you know what I mean.’ She paused, then added casually, ‘Besides, the entire world knows he’s seeing Ginny Fraser from the “Up to the Minute” show.’

‘Seeing each other’s brains out, by all accounts,’ Della agreed cordially. ‘Therefore you haughtily rejected his unwanted advances and swept off into the night. Right?’

Tarn shifted uncomfortably. ‘Not exactly.’

‘What then?’

‘He asked if he could have dinner with me again, and, naturally, I said I’d think about it.’

‘Well, naturally,’ Della echoed ironically. There was a silence, then she sighed. ‘Tell me something, Tarn. If Evie didn’t feature in this scenario, and you’d simply met Caz Brandon at a party and you’d spent time together, and he’d suggested another meeting, would you have said “Yes” to him?’

‘No,’ Tarn said passionately. ‘Never in a million years. Because I don’t go for arrogant, all conquering men.’

‘Hmm,’ said Della. ‘Some might say you’re being a trifle picky, but that’s your choice.’ She paused again. ‘However, I’ve always had a bad feeling about this scheme of yours, and, somehow, it’s getting worse all the time. So—if you do go out with him again—what then?’

‘Nothing,’ said Tarn. ‘Not next time, the time after that, or any time at all. I give him enough encouragement to keep him interested, but he stays strictly at arms’ length until he’s actually desperate. And then I choose the time and place to tell him that he’s an uncaring swine and why I wouldn’t have him if he came gift-wrapped.’

‘But do you really think he’ll care—given that he’s apparently one of the major bastards of the western world? Maybe he’ll just shrug and walk away.’

‘That would depend on how many other people are around at the time. And mud sticks. He’ll find himself being talked about in ways he won’t like. So I hit him twice—firstly in his belief he’s sexually irresistible. Secondly in his self image as the great publishing tycoon. He’ll know I’ve been laughing at him all the time, and he’s going to have to live with that for the rest of his life.’