LITMIR.BIZ

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rather like a stranded fish.

      ‘How dare you?’

      ‘Does that mean I’m wrong or I’m right?’ he enquired sardonically.

      ‘That means you’ve one hell of a nerve, and I’ve no intention of answering such a personal question,’ she rejoined angrily, and he laughed.

      ‘I think you just did. However, if men haven’t taken up your time, what have you been doing these past five years?’

      ‘Getting on marvellously well without you, I’m happy to say.’

      ‘So I see,’ he agreed, pricing her clothes and jewels with little difficulty. ‘You’ve been living high off the hog. Who paid for it all—Daddy?’ he jeered, and she saw red again.

      ‘Wrong. I earned the money to pay for my clothes by sheer hard work. My jewellery was a twenty-first birthday present, and I don’t think even you would begrudge me that!’ Alix countered hotly.

      ‘Spoken like a lioness defending her cub,’ he drawled ironically, and Alix decided she had had just about enough.

      ‘Why not? You might enjoy hitting people when they’re down and can’t defend themselves, but I don’t. In fact, I don’t even like associating with people like that, so if you don’t mind...’ She sent him a chilly smile, and would have brushed past him, only his hand shot out to grasp her wrist and halt her departure.

      ‘Not so fast. We still have to talk,’ he said shortly.

      She attempted to shake him off, but he resisted effortlessly. All she could do was fix him with an unwavering glare. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we’ve said more than enough,’ she retorted frigidly.

      Pierce shook his head. ‘Darling, we haven’t even begun to talk. But you’re right, this isn’t the time or place. I’ll be at your office at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.’

      How dared he think he could just waltz back into her life and take it over? ‘You may be there, but I won’t see you. I have appointments all day, and into the foreseeable future,’ she informed him with great satisfaction.

      He released her wrist, but only to bring his hand up to catch her chin, forcing their gazes to lock. ‘Make room, or the only appointment you’ll have is with the official receiver! And if that isn’t warning enough, stop thinking about yourself and start thinking of your employees instead. This may be your last chance of saving their jobs. It’s on your head, Alix. Can you afford your pride?’ His eyes bored into hers for a second longer, then he set her free. ‘Until tomorrow,’ he promised, and it was he who left, with a brief nod.

      Boiling with impotent anger, she watched his tall, broad-shouldered figure walk away. How she longed to tell him to go to hell, but his words stopped her—as he must surely have known they would. He also knew that she would see him tomorrow, for the sake of the very jobs she had been trying so hard to save, but with no success. It had been a bitter pill to swallow, the sense of failure. Now here was Pierce, implying he might be ready to do something, and, hate him though she might, she knew she couldn’t afford to turn him away.

      The knowledge left a bitter taste in her mouth for the rest of the evening. She left early, but didn’t go straight home. Instead she took a taxi to the London hospital where Stephen Petrakos still lay in Intensive Care. Three weeks ago he had suffered a massive heart attack, and had had at least one smaller one since. It was a miracle he had survived at all, and it was while his life hung in the balance that she had discovered the perilous state of affairs his publishing empire was in. While the doctors were slowly winning the battle for her father’s life, she was still trying to save his company.

      Her mother looked up from her knitting as Alix walked into the room, a tiny, fragile woman whose wan face creased into a welcoming smile on seeing her daughter. ‘Hello, darling, did you have a nice time?’

      Alix bent to kiss a smooth cheek. Emily Petrakos was the kind of woman whose sweet nature inspired protectiveness in those around her, never more so than in her family. It had become second nature to shield her mother from the harsher side of life long before her father’s illness, the cause of that being the mess she was striving helplessly to sort out now. But even though her mother must surely suspect something was wrong, if her father had said nothing to his wife, then she could say nothing either. Which was why Alix now fixed a cheerful smile on her face.

      ‘Oh, you know how those things are. The cause was good, and that was what mattered. How’s Dad?’

      ‘Sleeping now, but he was terribly restless earlier. I do wish he’d tell us what’s wrong,’ her mother sighed, biting her lip in concern, and unwittingly confirming her daughter’s suspicions.

      Alix gave her a hug. ‘Try not to worry, Mum. You know how Dad hates to be ill, especially when it takes him away from the business. However, I’m in control of things temporarily, and I think I may have some good news for him soon.’ Mentally she crossed her fingers, in the desperate hope that it would be true.

      ‘You’re such a comfort, Alix. Heaven knows where I’d be without you,’ Emily Petrakos declared, only to have her smile replaced by a frown. ‘But you look tired, dear. Aren’t you sleeping?’

      Sleep was a scarce commodity these days, and even when she found some her dreams were troubled. None of which she was about to admit to. ‘I’m fine, really, it’s just been a long day today. I intend to go straight to bed when I get home. Don’t forget to get some sleep yourself, Mum. You know it will only upset Dad more if he sees you looking worried.’

      ‘You make me sound like a tonic!’

      Alix laughed softly. ‘You are, and the best one he could have.’ Stifling a yawn, she glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better go. I’ll pop in again tomorrow. Give Dad a kiss for me, and tell him to stop worrying,’ she urged, before kissing her mother once more and leaving.

      Her flat was near the river in Chelsea. It was small, but suited her perfectly. She had rented it before her short-lived marriage, and, because she had refused to accept any financial benefit from her divorce, had been glad to return to it and nurse her wounds. She let herself in with a sigh of relief, only feeling safe when the bolts had been shot. It was Pierce who made her feel that way—as if she should run, and keep on running. Walking through to the lounge, she dropped her coat on the couch and went to pour herself a brandy. She needed it. His presence had been a shock. She had never expected to see him again after the divorce. After all, she thought, lips twisting, why would he come back when he had already got everything he wanted?

      Once she had believed she was the embodiment of the sentiment in those three words, but she had only been his tool. He had made his plans like a general. All the soft words and loving looks, right down to the vows they had exchanged, everything had been designed with one purpose—to get him within sight of his goal.

      She hadn’t known anybody could pretend like that. She had loved him, and she had believed he loved her. Her mouth twisted. But that was what she had been supposed to think. Her naïveté was like a scourge to her already lacerated soul. She had been a young twenty-one to his vastly more experienced twenty-nine. He couldn’t have known for certain that she would fall in love with him, only that he knew enough about women to be able to make it a distinct possibility.

      Shivering, Alix curled up in an armchair. Pierce had been right about her love life. She didn’t have one, and was there really any wonder? What she had suffered at his hands had made her fear the fire like any sane person. Never again would she trust any man with her happiness. Oh, she had men who were friends, and whom she sometimes dated, but although she knew some of them would like to deepen the relationship she had always been careful to keep them at a distance.

      Her friends had stopped asking her why she had changed so after her return from America when she had stonewalled every question. Though they still tried to pair her up, it was half-hearted at best, and they obeyed her unspoken wish for privacy.

      She closed her eyes. Stopping questions was one thing, stopping memories was something else. In the beginning they had been

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