Prisoner Of Passion

‘And once I get those kinds of people coming to me for advice,’ Griff bored on, ‘I’ll be offered a senior partnership.’

‘Marvellous.’ Had he always been this boring, this predictable? She felt awful even thinking that, but couldn’t wait to escape.

‘It could bring our wedding forward by a year or two—’

‘Say that again?’ she practically whispered.

Griff gravely outlined his agenda for their future—a three-year engagement, her discovery as an artist to facilitate the expense, marriage only when they had left no stone of possible incompatibility unturned and explored. It was so very sensible that she wanted to tear her hair out, for this was a man whom a few short weeks ago she had believed she would marry, should he ask.

Without warning she belatedly recalled the photographer who had shouted his thanks to Griff before he’d taken off. ‘Why did that man with the camera thank you?’

/> Griff frowned. ‘I told him we would be there.’

‘You did what? Were you also aware that Rico would be there?’

‘It’s his favourite watering-hole, I understand, and I was delighted when he showed up and joined us. It was unfortunate that his date chose to take off early, but there’ll be no more undesirable publicity once our engagement is announced in print, complete with photo,’ Griff pointed out with pride, blind to the gathering rage and disbelief in Bella’s face, he was so patently'pleased with himself.

‘But I didn’t say yes!’ she hissed.

He took a step back, flinching from her venom.

‘The answer is no. I don’t want to marry you. Not only are you unfaithful, you are stingy. You pocketed the ring again… You just couldn’t bring yourself to part with it!’ she reminded him witheringly.

‘How dare you call me stingy?’

‘And you can take that announcement right back out of the paper again, because I’d sooner starve than be married to a stingy, manipulative man who is more concerned with his image at the office than with me!’ Thrusting him bodily out of the dingy hall, Bella slammed the door on him before he had the chance to snap his dropped jaw closed again.

She perched on the step one up from the bottom of the stairs. She was waiting for Rico. He would come. She knew it in her bones. And she was all shaken up just thinking about it. A man who bought women the same way he bought his shirts. Sophie had ripped the scales from her stupid eyes. Anti-love, anti-commitment and anti-marriage. How could she have fallen in love with a man like that?

For it was love. She could no longer lie to herself. Seeing Rico again tonight had torn her apart but it had also made her face the truth. She had fallen violently in love with a man who bonded with women on an immoral basis of keys and gifts of expensive cars, a male who might have remarkable staying power in bed—her cheeks burned—but whose staying power in relationships was abysmal. Two months? Even Bella allowed men to last longer than two months…most of the time, she adjusted. Griff had lasted three, but then he worked a lot of overtime, she conceded absently.

And what about the sensational divorce? She should have asked Liz about Rico’s failed marriage. It was strange that there had been no mention of it in the papers. Liz was a walking encyclopaedia on celebrity lives and scandals. But then maybe Liz hadn’t known, or maybe Liz had just been too good a friend to mention Rico when Bella had gone to such ridiculous lengths to avoid referring to him herself. Poor Liz. She must have used superglue to keep her lips sealed on all the questions she’d been dying to ask!

The mechanical Edwardian doorbell shrilled and made her jump. She unlocked the door.

‘You should have a chain on,’ Rico grated, striding in. ‘Why is this place in total darkness?’

‘Hector doesn’t like electricity bills!’

Thrusting arrogantly past her, Rico skimmed a hand along the wall, and abruptly the great chandelier above blazed into light. Bella had never seen it illuminated before and she stared up, wondering how it would look without the cobwebs. There was a strangled moan from the landing above.

‘Switch that off!’ Hector urged in horror. ‘Are you trying to ruin me? Have you any idea how many watts that burns?’

‘Switch it off, for heaven’s sake…before he has a heart attack!’

Rico stared up at the thin figure wrapped in the ragged wool robe and mounted the stairs. ‘Mr Barsay… I am Rico da Silva.’ He extended a lean hand with awesome cool.

Hector pressed his hand to his palpitating chest instead. ‘Switch off that light!’ he pleaded.

‘I’ll pay for it,’ Rico drawled smoothly, tugging out his wallet and extracting a crisp note. ‘I’m reduced to a shuddering wreck by darkness after my experience in that container. My nerves couldn’t stand the strain.’

‘Bella has candles—’

‘Not enough.’ Rico pressed the note apologetically into Hector’s trembling hand. ‘And I do understand what a struggle it is for you to survive in this house.’

There was no subject dearer to Hector’s heart. He managed a brave smile while surreptitiously pocketing the money. ‘Hector!’ Bella moaned in embarrassment.

‘Women don’t understand these things,’ Rico sighed.