CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ADONISHRUGGEDANDstraightened his jacket. Tailor-made, it fitted perfectly, but this evening it didn’t seem to.
He hooked a finger into his collar, trying to ease the constriction there, though he knew it was just nerves. Even the phantom pain in his collarbone was back.
Too much rode on tonight’s outcome.
Everythingrode on it.
He’d realised the moment Alice had left him in Greece, evenbeforeshe’d left, that the arrangement she suggested was untenable. He had no intention of sharing their child, like a boomerang flying backwards and forwards between them. Of not seeing Alice except at each handover.
He rubbed the heel of his hand over his clavicle. He knew what he wanted. And he was a man who got what he wanted. Yet that knowledge inspired none of his usual confidence.
For the first time in years Adoni felt nervous. Scared his plan might not work.
Catching the direction of his thoughts, he stiffened his spine and strode to the door of the plush London gallery. He’d never been a coward. He couldn’t afford to start now.
The first room was empty. The exhibition wouldn’t open for another hour and the gallery was technically closed. In the distance he heard the clatter of plates from a back room—caterers preparing for tonight’s party.
Adoni strode deeper, barely glancing at the portraits on the white walls. When he’d come here to see Felix Christow earlier, these works by Alice’s mother had moved him immeasurably. They conveyed such depth of emotion, such understanding, it was impossible not to be entranced. Especially when the subject was someone she loved. The portrait of her husband, captured at his drawing board, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair unkempt, conveyed such warmth and affection Adoni felt as if he’d intruded into an intensely private world.
That was the world Alice had inhabited as a child. A world of love and intimacy, of happiness and trust such as Adoni had never known. No wonder she hadn’t been ready to accept his bloodless contract!
Murmuring voices drew him into a vaulted space, the second last room in the exhibition.
There she was.
Adoni’s heart slammed his ribs so hard it felt as if it had yanked free. That it might at any moment tumble right out of his body.
It had been just a week since he’d seen her but it seemed a century.
His pulse skipped as he realised she wore the dress he’d given her. She’d left it in his home. The sight of it, alone in the empty wardrobe, had reinforced his isolation, his loneliness, after she’d gone.
He’d wrenched it out but, instead of tossing it away, his hands had gentled on the soft fabric she’d worn against her flesh. The next day he’d had it hand-delivered, with a note asking that she keep the gift as proof of goodwill between them.
His relief when she’d accepted had been matched only by his determination to make Alice accept more than a mere dress.
Now the dark blue gown graced her slim form. The beaded bodice scintillated as she moved and the short skirt flirted around her pale legs. Her dark hair, with its rich hint of auburn, was simply styled up, leaving her creamy neck bare except for that glowing opal necklace.
And Adoni wanted her as he’d never wanted any woman in his life.
Thatwas what drove him across the room, heedless of the fear jamming his throat.
‘Ah, Mr Petrakis. How good to see you.’ Christow, the gallery owner, was calm and urbane, everything Adoni wasn’t at the moment. Adoni stared down into Alice’s stunned face, feeling the charge of adrenaline rush his body.
He must have responded to Christow’s welcome, even answered, but he had no recollection of it. He was so engulfed by emotion as he drank her in he barely noticed the other man leave.
‘He was expecting you.’ Alice’s voice was uneven. The beads over her breasts trembled and shimmered as she drew an unsteady breath.
‘Sorry?’ Adoni forced himself to focus on Alice’s words.
‘Felix expected you.’ It was a challenge. Or perhaps an accusation.
Adoni shrugged. He wasn’t going to apologise for persuading the gallery owner to arrange this time with her. Christow had been only too eager to assist a collector of Adoni’s stature.
‘I mentioned I’d like an early viewing.’
Who are you kidding, Petrakis? Pride has no place here. It’s already done more harm than good.