For the next few blissful hours Mia was aware of nothing, not the day slowly closing in around her or the towel turban slowly uncoiling itself from her head then sliding lazily to the carpet—trailing her hair along with it so the long silken strands spilled over the edge of the bed like a wall of fire lit by the glowing sunset.
When she did eventually come awake she did so abruptly, not sure what had woken her but certain that something had. Her eyes flicked open, her senses coming to full alert and setting her flesh tingling.
She continued to lie there for a f
ew more seconds, listening intently to the silence surrounding her, then something brushed against her cheek and on a strangled gasp she rolled over—and found herself wedged up against a hard male body that was reclining beside her. Alexander’s dark head was casually propped up on the heel of one hand.
‘I wondered how long your hair was,’ he remarked idly. ‘Now I know …’
It was then she realised that he was gently fondling a silky skein of her hair. Her scalp was tingling, as well as her cheek, as if he’d teasingly brushed the lock of hair across it.
It must have been his touch that had woken her. ‘W-what are you doing here?’ she demanded unsteadily.
Stupid question, his mocking eyes said, and he grinned, all white teeth and predatorial amusement.
With a flash of annoyance, meant to disguise the real shaft of alarm that went streaking through her, Mia made to roll away from him again but he stopped her, his arm snaking around her waist to keep her clamped against him.
She met with rock-solid immovable muscle and soft white terry towelling. Her breath caught her eyes dropping to stare at the gap in his bath-robe where tight black curls of rough chest hair lay clustered against warm golden skin.
Her heart stuttered. Her mouth went dry. Something clicked into motion deep inside her—the slowly turning gears of sexual awakening, she realized with dread.
‘You sleep like an innocent, do you know that?’ he informed her very softly. ‘I’ve been lying here for ages, just watching you, and you barely moved, barely breathed, and your lovely mouth looked so vulnerable it was a strain not to kiss it.’
He did now, though, bending his dark head just enough to brush his lips against her own. Her own head jerked backwards in rejection. ‘L-let go of me,’ she stammered. ‘I n-need—’
‘Sex on demand,’ he reminded her, speaking right over her protest. ‘You agreed to it. Here I am to collect it.’
Oh, God. Her eyes closed, her lips folding in on themselves in an effort to moisten what had gone way beyond being moistened. ‘Please,’ she whispered with the first hint of weakness she had let herself show him. ‘I’m not used to …’
‘Performing on demand?’ he suggested when her voice trailed off into silence. ‘That’s not the way I heard it …’
Silence. Mia went perfectly still, a slither of horror sliding down her spine. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said.
‘No?’ he murmured. ‘Then, please, correct me if I am wrong,’ he drawled. ‘You did have your first full-blown affair at the tender age of sixteen, did you not? With a struggling rock star, I believe. He died several years later of a cocktail of drink and drugs. But not before your wild whoring ways forced your father to place you in a closed institution while they dried you out, made you a half-fit human being then disgorged you back on society in the hope that you had learned your lesson. Did you learn your lesson?’
Mia felt sick, but said nothing. Her father, she was thinking desolately, just couldn’t let her do anything with a modicum of dignity. He had to soil it—soil everything—for her.
‘Certainly,’ that cruel voice went on when she offered no defence, ‘you’ve kept a very low profile for the last seven years. Do you still indulge in drugs?’
She shook her head. Her eyes were closed, and her face so white it looked brittle. It would be no use telling him that she had never—ever—abused her body with illegal drugs because she knew he wouldn’t believe her.
‘I don’t want any child of mine born a drug addict because his mother had no control over herself. What about sex?’ he pushed on remorselessly. ‘Should I have had you tested before we reached this point? Is there any chance I am likely to put my health at risk if I indulge myself with you?’
Her heart heaved, her aching lungs along with it. ‘I have not had a sexual relationship with a man in years,’ she told him with as much pride as she could muster.
‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘It’s the truth,’ she retorted, her green eyes despising him so much that they actually sought glacial contact with his. ‘Believe it or not. I don’t care. I don’t care if you get a whole army of doctors in here to make sure I am clean enough for you to use. But just do it quickly, will you, so we can get the whole sordid conception over with?’
With that, she managed to break free from him and rolled sideways across the bed. His hand shot out and caught her.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ he breathed, and began to pull her to him.
He came to lean right over her, his face tight with anger, his eyes alive with it and his body tense with it. ‘Is it true?’ he demanded rawly. ‘Is everything I’ve just said the truth?’
The truth? she repeated to herself with skin-blistering mockery. He would like the truth even less than he was liking her father’s lies!
‘I sold myself for five million pounds,’ she spat. ‘Does that answer your question?’