‘Tough.’ He went into the sitting room, straight to the corner cupboard, and found the Scotch, pouring himself a generous measure.
When he turned, there was brooding anger in his face.
‘I suppose she’s told you?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Also that you’ve dumped her, accused her of getting pregnant deliberately in order to trap you, and ordered her to have an abortion. Nice work, Simon.’
‘Of course you’re on her side,’ he said. ‘All sisters together against the male oppressor. I know how it works. But don’t be taken in by the innocent big brown eyes. She didn’t need much persuading—as you must have noticed when you walked in on us that night.’
She hadn’t forgotten. One of her rare migraines had threatened, sending her home early from a supper party. She’d heard noises from the sitting room and pushed open the door, to see Donna and Simon, naked and entwined on the rug in front of the fireplace, engrossed in vigorous and uninhibited sex.
Donna had seen her first and screamed. Simon had flung himself off his partner’s body with more haste than finesse.
Rhianna had retreated to her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, fighting incipient nausea as the implications of what she’d interrupted came home to her.
She took a breath. ‘Believe me, I’m on no one’s side,’ she said bitterly. ‘But do you realise she was actually threatening suicide last night?’
‘That’s just ridiculous talk,’ he said flatly. ‘Ignore it.’ He added, ‘You do realise, I hope, that this baby simply cannot be born? I’m not going to lose all I want out of life just for one bloody stupid mistake.’
‘Don’t you mean a whole series of them?’ She faced him, chin up, angry herself as she wondered defeatedly what had happened to the Simon she’d once known and whom, briefly and long ago, she’d thought she wanted.
I used to envy Carrie so much I was ashamed to look at her, she thought. Now I’m just ashamed.
She added fiercely, ‘This is hardly a unilateral decision by you. A termination is incredibly serious for a woman.’
‘And my future is equally serious,’ he retorted, taking a gulp of whisky. ‘For God’s sake, Rhianna. You know what this would do to Carrie if she found out. That can’t be allowed to happen. Admit it, damn you.’
‘Yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘I know. And I swear she won’t find out from me.’
‘Good. Then you’ll do whatever’s necessary? Donna trusts you, and you can persuade her to do the right thing—if not for my sake, then for Carrie’s.’ He finished the Scotch and put the glass down. ‘You’re a great girl, Rhianna,’ he went on more slowly. ‘And you look bloody amazing in that robe. I’d bet good money you’re not wearing anything underneath it. Care to prove it—for old times’ sake?’
‘There are no “old times”‘. She looked at him with steady contempt. ‘There never were. Now get out of here at once.’
He whistled. ‘Hard words, but you’re still going to help me, aren’t you? Because you don’t really have a choice.’ He paused at the front door she’d thrown open. ‘I’m relying on you, remember,’ he added. ‘So don’t let me down.’
He turned to go, and she saw his face change. Looking past him, she realised that Diaz had indeed arrived ahead of time, and was standing motionless at the top of the stairs, his brows drawn together as he watched them.
‘So this is the expected admirer,’ Simon said mockingly. ‘Well, well, you are a dark horse, Rhianna. I’ll give your love to Carrie—shall I? Hello and goodbye, Diaz. Have a pleasant evening. I guarantee you will.’ He winked at Rhianna and went, the sound of his footsteps clattering down the stairs.
Rhianna stood dry-mouthed as Diaz, still frowning, walked towards her, knowing that he would ask questions she would not be able to answer.
And felt the last remnants of hope shrivel and die inside her, as she had always somehow known they must.
As the flat door closed behind them, Diaz said abruptly, ‘Does he make a habit of calling here?’
I don’t want to lie to him. Please don’t make me lie to him…
She said, ‘He’s around from time to time.’
‘Carrie didn’t say you were seeing each other.’
‘She probably didn’t think it worth mentioning.’ Rhianna forced herself to play along and shrug lightly. ‘After all, we’re hardly strangers, he and I.’
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I hadn’t forgotten.’ He paused. ‘Is that how you usually receive him—dressed—or undressed—like that?’
‘Of course not.’ Her indignation at least could be genuine. ‘And I certainly wasn’t expecting him this evening, if that’s what you think.’
‘Frankly,’ he said, ‘I don’t know what to think. After all, it was hardly the welcome I was anticipating.’
She looked away. ‘Nor the one I’d planned, believe me.’ Her voice was bleak.
He glanced around. ‘So, where’s the weeping willow?’
Rhianna bit her lip. ‘That’s neither kind nor fair.’
‘Perhaps I’m not feeling particularly charitable. And you didn’t answer my question.’
‘She’s gone out,’ Rhianna said.
His brows rose. ‘Good news at last,’ he said softly. ‘So, why don’t we forget about the cinema and stay here?’
If she took two steps forward, she thought, she’d be in his arms, all questions silenced. He wanted her. She wanted him. Simple.
Except it was nothing of the kind. Because she knew, none better, the dangers of sex without any kind of commitment. She’d heard them being paraded only a little while ago, in this very room.
She was aware of her own feelings, but not his. Diaz was still an enigma to her. He’d spoken of her running away five years before, but he’d made no attempt to follow. He’d let her leave Penvarnon alone and, as far as he knew, friendless. It had been Francis Seymour and Carrie who’d stood by her, not him.
And he was here with her now only because of this nameless, inexplicable thing between them that had burst into life that night in the stable yard, subjecting her to the torments of the damned ever since.
Something apparently that he’d not been able to forget either, even as he lived his life, made his money and slept with other women.
An appetite in him that she’d aroused and he wished to satisfy. And when he’d taken all she had to give and he was no longer hungry—what then? What was to prevent him just walking away, leaving her used up and discarded? Like Donna?
And all on the strength of one short-lived and disastrous encounter when she was eighteen years old.
I’m worth, she thought, far more than that.
Aloud she said, ‘Because Donna will be back very soon. So it appears that it’s the cinema or nothing.’ She added coolly, ‘And in your present mood, Diaz, I have to say the second option seems preferable.’
‘I could make you change your mind.’
Yes, but not my heart…
‘Why, Mr Penvarnon,’ she said mockingly, just as if she wasn’t weeping inside, ‘how very uncool.’
The look he sent her was long and totally deliberate, stripping away the concealing robe in order to create her nakedness in his imagination. And knowing what he was doing, and why, made it no easier to bear.
She stood, her body burning, hardly able to breathe, until at last he turned away, and she heard the outside door close behind him.