The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
querida,’ he drawled. ‘Your claws are showing.’
She offered him a winsome smile. ‘It’s one thing to show them, and quite another to use them.’ Unlike Savannah, who didn’t hesitate to do both, she added silently as she paused at Alejandro’s side while he exchanged pleasantries with an acquaintance.
The ballroom had the capacity to seat eight hundred patrons, with ten guests assigned to each circular table. An impressive annual event, it was a draw for the city’s social élite who came primarily to be seen. The promoted charity, the reason for such a gathering, was Incidental.
Perhaps that was being a little unkind, Elise decided as she took her seat a short while later. Committee members affiliated to any charity organisation worked tirelessly to put something like this evening’s soiree together, and deserved an accolade for their efforts.
Two seats at their table remained empty, and Elise’s fingers tightened on the stem of her glass as she overheard who was due to join them.
‘Savannah is always late, darling. She likes to make a grand entrance.’
Savannah’s presence tonight was a foregone conclusion, but only someone with a twisted sense of humour would have placed the glamorous model at the same table as Alejandro and Elise Santanas. It was too contrived to be coincidental, and Elise could only conclude that Savannah herself had engineered the seating arrangements.
The lights dimmed, a spotlight hit the podium, and the charity’s president extolled the amount raised and its purpose. Tonight’s guest speaker was a well-known dignitary who would begin his speech at the dinner’s conclusion, after which music would be provided for guests to dance.
The spotlight faded, the lights returned, and there was Savannah, looking absolutely stunning in jade silk that clung lovingly to every curve. The man at her side wasn’t someone Elise had previously met, and she pinned a smile firmly in place as Savannah performed an introduction.
Was it her imagination that their table was the cynosure of all eyes? Perhaps not, she conceded, although there could be no doubt Savannah’s presence would be viewed with interest.
‘Elise. How are you? Quite recovered from your accident, I hope?’ The slightly bored tone was offset by a seemingly sincere smile which did not reach her eyes as Elise made a polite rejoinder. ‘Alejandro missed you dreadfully at last week’s dinner.’ The smile deepened and became deliberately secretive as she switched attention. ‘Didn’t you, darling? Quite the devoted husband. If he hadn’t been a featured guest speaker, I doubt if he would have come.’
Elise was saved from having to respond by the arrival of a waiter bearing a basket of bread rolls, and when the first course was served she dutifully spooned the delectable potato and leek soup until it was finished.
Faced with a choice of fish or chicken, she opted for the former, and forked each mouthful with studied care. Every so often she paused to sip iced water from her glass, acutely conscious of Savannah’s presence directly opposite.
Incredibly beautiful: there was no visible flaw in any one of her perfect features. Nature had bestowed with a bountiful hand, while good fortune had ensured that she’d been born into wealth. A modelling opportunity had landed in her lap at a tender age, and the rest, as they said, was history.
Elise had viewed her with extreme caution the moment they had first met, and nothing had occurred in the interim to change her mind. The model was an ensnarer of men, making it very plain that Alejandro Santanas was her prime target. His marriage was dismissed as of little account, merely a mild irritation soon to be dispensed with.
‘Some wine, my dear?’
Elise turned towards the man seated on her left, and shook her head. ‘It’s kind of you to offer, but no.’
‘You’re getting by with water, darling?’ Savannah queried, effecting a faint moue. ‘Are you driving?’
Alejandro shifted slightly in his chair and caught hold of Elise’s hand, lifting it to his lips. His eyes gleamed with warmth as he gently kissed each fingertip in turn before enfolding her hand in his.
She wanted to wrench her hand free, but even as the thought occurred, his own hand tightened measurably in silent warning, and she had no recourse but to smile. Damn him, he was little more than an elegant savage behind that sophisticated façade. Ruthless, she added, suppressing a slight shiver as she caught sight of Savannah’s fixed stare.
‘You’re not pregnant, are you, darling?’
Only Savannah would ask such a question, and Elise held her breath as Alejandro met the model’s seemingly innocent gaze.
‘Yes, much to my delight.’ There was no doubt about the element of steel beneath the silksmoothness of his voice.
The arrival of dessert was an anticlimax, and Elise picked segments of fruit from their meringue nest, then pushed the plate to one side, choosing tea as the guest speaker took the podium.
Afterwards a DJ provided background music and encouraged guests to step on to the dance-floor. Savannah and her partner were among the first, moving through the steps with effortless ease.
She looked so—sophisticated, and so very sure of herself. Her features were faintly sultry, and Elise had no doubt that the model knew precisely the effect she was having on her partner.
The question was whether it was having the desired effect on Alejandro.
Elise cast him a surreptitious glance, and was disconcerted to meet his hooded gaze. She offered a tentative smile, afraid he might have deduced the pattern of her thoughts, and she blinked as he reached out and threaded his fingers through her own.
‘Would you like to dance?’
Part of her wanted to quite desperately, for she badly needed the sanctuary of his embrace. The other part recognised the danger of having her body pressed against the hard powerful impact of his own.
With a word of assent she rose to her feet, moved out on to the floor and into his arms.
The music was slow, and her steps matched his in perfect unison. Magic, she mused. Was it possible for one human being to be addicted to another? Held in thrall as if the essence of him were some powerful narcotic?
He diminished every other man in the room, possessing an inherent ruthlessness, honed by experience and enhanced by the degree of his success.
It held a fascination that men recognised and women viewed with the speculative interest of their sex. To some it was an invisible magnet, activated by the excitement of discovering if the man, freed from corporate restraint, was as skilled at lovemaking as he was at adding millions to his investment portfolio.
An immensely sophisticated man, yet there was the hint of an untamed quality, a primitive savagery held rigidly in control.
A faint shiver feathered down her spine with the knowledge that he would be devastatingly heartless as an enemy.
‘Cold?’
His voice was a soft caress against her hair, and she murmured a faint negative.
‘Someone just walked over my grave,’ she offered, with a droll attempt at humour.
‘Savannah?’
She missed a step, and gave an inaudible gasp as he enfolded her close against him. It was a far from conventional hold, and she tilted her head to meet the dark inscrutability apparent in his gaze.
‘You’re too astute for your own good,’ she offered in a strangled voice.
‘Is that a disadvantage?’
She chose not to answer, and when the music changed she moved back a pace and suggested they return to their table.
‘I need to use the powder-room,’ she murmured, aware of the effect of several glasses of water. She caught up her evening bag with the intention of doing a few running repairs to her make-up