The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHINЧитать онлайн книгу.
sheer bliss of curling into her lover’s arms, and now the shared luxury of gently pulsing jets to ease away the slight pull of overused muscles.
She wanted to lean her head back, close her eyes, and stay here for hours. Perhaps enjoy a champagne breakfast, with fresh strawberries followed by eggs Benedict, crispy bacon and two cups of strong black sweet coffee. Then crawl back to bed and sleep beneath the covers until the sun rose to its zenith.
Sadly, it was the wrong day. The weekend didn’t begin until tomorrow, and the boutique awaited, as did the replacement saleswoman. And then there was Camille.
Slowly she opened her eyes.
‘Where did you go?’ Miguel queried gently, and she smiled at him.
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘If you tell me, I can—’
‘Wave your magic wand?’
‘Make a few calls, pull a string or two.’
‘Ah, I believe you would. But it’s not that simple. Besides, this one’s mine, querido.’ She reached out a hand and snagged a towel, then stepped out from the spa-bath.
It wasn’t nearly as late as she’d thought, she discovered as she dressed in the exquisitely tailored gear she chose to wear to work.
There was time for a leisurely breakfast before catching hold of her briefcase and following Miguel through to the garage.
The automatic door lifted, and almost in unison they unlocked each vehicle, slid in behind the wheels, engaged the ignitions, and at Miguel’s signal Hannah reversed out ahead of him.
At the end of the street, she lifted a hand and waved, glancing in her rear-vision mirror as she turned in the opposite direction.
The replacement salesgirl arrived late, and, although her credentials appeared satisfactory, she was more suited to the teen section in a department store than catering to a very particular clientele demanding exclusive and expensive designer labels.
Hannah did her best to provide a crash course in haute couture, but after one disastrous clash with a client she relegated Chantal to menial tasks, and had her fetch lunch.
By mid-afternoon Hannah had a tension headache, Chantal had called it quits, which meant another call to the agency, impressing very specific needs, and a desperate call to Renee who willingly agreed to fill in for a few hours the next day.
There was a brief moment when Hannah seriously considered Miguel’s suggestion to promote Cindy. But first, she decided a trifle grimly, she had to get through the next week or two.
THE gown Hannah chose to wear for the evening’s soirée was a full-length slim-fitting creation in ice-blue silk with a halter-neck and flaring into soft folds from the knee. A soft cowl effect provided an attractive décolletage. Matching blue stiletto-heeled shoes and a gem-encrusted evening purse completed the outfit.
Jewellery was confined to a diamond tear-drop necklace suspended on a slim gold chain, with earrings to match, and a diamond tennis bracelet at her wrist.
Make-up was kept to a minimum, with emphasis on her eyes, a light rose colouring her lips, and she swept her hair into a sleek chignon.
The prestigious charity event owed its success to an active and imaginative committee, a guest-list of the city’s social élite, a luxurious venue, fine food and wine, and top-line entertainment.
This particular end-of-year function numbered as the jewel in the crown of charity events, with the funds raised being donated to the Leukaemia Foundation.
Miguel looked resplendent in a formal black dinner suit, white shirt and black bow-tie. Superb tailoring accentuated his breadth of shoulder and tall muscular frame. He presented a forceful image that combined a dramatic mesh of latent sensuality and elemental ruthlessness. Add an enviable aura of power, and the effect was lethal.
‘Ready?’
Hannah offered him a sparkling smile. ‘To go do battle?’
His husky chuckle caused a shivery sensation to slither down her spine.
‘Is that how you see tonight’s social event?’
She wrinkled her nose, and resorted to humour.
‘It’ll be a dazzling occasion, with the usual players.’
Including Camille, she added silently, offering a fervent prayer the society princess wasn’t included in the guests seated at their particular table.
The Deity wasn’t listening, she determined an hour later as she slid into reserved seating and saw Camille’s name on a place-card next to Miguel.
Damn. Could she surreptitiously switch it? Suiting thought to deed, she quickly transposed the place-card with that of a guest seated opposite.
Alejandro and Elise were a welcome inclusion, and anyone seeing Miguel and Alejandro together could not fail to note they shared relatives in common. They were of a similar height and possessed the same breadth of shoulder, the same physically fit stature and ease of movement. Even their facial features bore a certain similarity, the sculpted angles and planes, piercing dark eyes, that beautifully moulded sensual mouth.
Their respective fathers were brothers who had each left the land of their birth to seek a fortune in another country, succeeded, married and produced one son.
Alejandro resided in Sydney, with his wife Elise and two young children. The Santanas name was well respected in the business arena, and both Alejandro and Miguel shared a mutual stake in a few financial ventures.
Hannah embraced Elise warmly. ‘It’s so good to see you. When did you arrive?’
‘Midday. Alejandro has only used the cell-phone once, and has yet to open the laptop.’ She gave an irrepressible smile. ‘And I’ve only checked with the nanny twice.’
Hannah’s eyes twinkled with humour. ‘This is the first time you’ve left them at home?’
‘Second,’ Elise owned. ‘It doesn’t get any easier.’
‘She has a compulsive need to check on the children’s welfare,’ Alejandro drawled as he leant forward to brush a kiss to Hannah’s cheek.
‘Of course,’ Elise acceded, sending her husband a long glance of the kind that made Hannah’s nerves shimmer with envy.
‘We’re seated together,’ Hannah indicated, and watched as Elise slid into a chair, then patted the one next to her.
‘Sit beside me. We have so much to catch up on.’
There was background music, and the majority of guests were already seated.
There were only two empty seats at their table, and Hannah had to concede Camille made a stunning entrance, clothed in a deep red creation that covered her perfect body like a second skin.
Hannah’s gaze slid to Camille’s partner, and froze in shocked disbelief for all of three seconds before she quickly masked her expression.
Luc Dubois.
Dear heaven. It was three years since she’d last seen him.
Then, he’d been a charming rake whose main occupation was insinuating himself into the lives of wealthy women. Young, not so young, it hadn’t seemed to bother him. A photographic professional who used his skill to gain entry into the realm of the rich and famous.
She should know. For three months in Paris he’d exercised his considerable charms on her. Wined, dined, and eventually swept her off her feet and into his arms.
Now, Hannah watched as Camille began weaving her way towards them with Luc in tow, and she forced herself to maintain a polite