Taken For His Pleasure. Carol MarinelliЧитать онлайн книгу.
stepped outside the sauna, visibly blanching at the sight of the cool plunge pool and opting instead for the hopefully warmer lap pool.
Popping into a cubicle she pulled on the rather boring navy bathers she used for her daily swim, knowing that if she was going to carry off the part of Anton Santini’s latest girlfriend she’d better head over to the boutique and buy a decent bikini. Folding her clothes and placing them in her bag, she padded out to the pool area, glad to see that it was deserted again, and glad for a few moments of solitude before the rigours of the next few days began.
A wealthy financier, Anton Santini part-owned a vast string of international hotels. According to the detailed brief Lydia had been given, his hotel chain was considering adding this luxury Melbourne hotel to its impressive list of residences. More importantly, down the track he was considering building a vast, brand-new hotel complex in Darwin, which would not only mean more tourists, but would also provide many vital jobs for the locals in the Northern Territory.
Everyone wanted his whirlwind visit to Melbourne to go well—hence the panic that had ensued when a potential security threat towards Anton Santini had been revealed. There had been no time to reschedule the gathering—he was already on his plane and heading for Australia—so instead red panic buttons had been pushed and a massive security operation had been hastily put in place—with no expense spared! And though professionally Lydia relished the opportunity, she was cringing at the prospect of playing the part of Santini’s girlfriend. She knew that no amount of buffing and coiffing was going to bring her up to his exacting standards—she could still hear the sniggers from her colleagues when she had been chosen—but, worse, she could almost see the scorn and incredulity that would surely be visible in Santini’s eyes when they were finally introduced.
Swimming always calmed her, and a half-hour of concentrating on her breathing, focusing on nothing more than reaching the cool marble at the other side of the pool, was exactly what she needed now. Dipping her toe in the inviting-looking pool, Lydia found it pleasantly warm, the deep blue water seemingly calling her to dive in and forget for a moment the pressures of modern living. Diving in gracefully, she closed her eyes as she hit the water, and felt the tension that had held her together disperse as she slid beneath the surface, propelling her body along the floor of the pool, her breath bursting in her lungs as she held it in.
It was good to be alone. Punching his desired level, Anton glanced at his expensive heavy watch as the lift descended from the Presidential Suite to the lower ground floor and realised that had he caught his scheduled flight then his plane would only just be landing now. He was infinitely grateful to the unknown first-class passenger on the packed flight that had preceded his who had cancelled, allowing Anton the luxury of five hours’ sleep in a hotel bed before he faced his horrendous schedule.
Sitting in the luxurious surrounds of the first-class lounge, sipping on a brandy as he’d waited to board the earlier plane, in a reflex action he’d reached for his mobile to call his PA and tell her about the change. But then, almost defiantly, he had clicked his phone off, filled with an urge to have a few hours in his life that were, for once, unaccountable.
Feeling as if he was playing hooky, Anton had boarded the plane and, in a move that was so unusual for him it bordered on the bizarre, he’d handed over his laptop to the flight attendant and refused the latest copies of overseas newspapers. Shaking his head at the endless delicacies that were offered as the plane hit altitude he’d chosen instead to pull on a pair of headphones and gaze unseeing at the international news, his eyes growing heavy as it morphed into a film…
As the lift doors slid open, Anton Santini, automatically polite, pressed the button to hold it open for a dark-haired woman wrapped in a white robe. Her flushed faced indicated that she had just come from the gym area where he was heading. She did a double take when she saw him, but Anton didn’t give it a thought. He was more than used to women giving him a second look. His six-foot-three frame and dark Latin looks merited that alone, and given that these days there was barely a newspaper or magazine published that didn’t contain a photo of him, it wasn’t just women who looked twice.
It certainly didn’t cross his mind that the dark-haired woman might be an undercover detective who didn’t expect him to be in the country just yet! And it never entered his head that Maria was battling with a surge of panic because an unsuspecting Lydia was swimming in the pool—where, judging from the towel draped around his shoulders, Anton was clearly heading!
With a brief nod he stepped out, following the signs for the hotel pool and gym, noting with a wry smile that despite the fact he was in Australia, literally on the other side of the world, he might just as well be in Rome, or London, or Paris, or wherever his hectic schedule took him. No matter how much the hotels fought to be different, to stamp their originality in the minds of affluent businessmen, each and every one was pretty much the same.
Still, at least he had the place to himself.
Even as he processed the thought Anton retrieved and corrected it. As he had turned the corner he hadn’t acknowledged the massive marble pool—he was used to extravagant surroundings, and the marble floor and glittering blue water had barely merited a glance. All he had noticed was the still surface of the water, the thick scent of chlorine, the silence of an empty room. But now, in a beat, his eyes were drawn to the long dark shadow beneath the water, to a hand breaking the surface tension, followed by a slender, pale arm arching a perfect stroke. As he went to walk on, to deposit his towel and robe on the bench, something held him back. In another beat, after another moment’s hesitation, his eyes were drawn to the figure in the water. Her pale length was effortlessly gliding the length of the pool, titian hair dragging behind her, eyes closed as she rhythmically swam towards the edge, then executed a perfect tumble-turn before disappearing beneath the surface again for an impressive length of time.
Anton found himself drawn to the willowy figure. There was something about the effortless way her body moved, a natural litheness that held his attention—something different about this woman. He took a moment to fathom what it was: she was actually enjoying herself! Unlike most early morning swimmers in a hotel pool, she didn’t appear to be working on toning her thighs or extending her endurance. Instead she seemed to be taking a moment, an indulgent moment, oblivious to her surrounds, and inexplicably he didn’t want to disturb her, didn’t want to invade this woman’s privacy, didn’t want to break her delicate stride.
But it was a hotel pool, Anton reminded himself with a brisk shake of his head. It wasn’t as if he’d climbed a fence and stood in voyeuristic silence as the lady of the house swum in her back garden. Almost defiantly he pulled off his robe. Unlike Lydia, he didn’t test the water for warmth, didn’t gingerly dip in his toe—ice could have been floating on the surface and Anton would have merely dived straight in—and as Lydia neared the far end of the pool he slid into the water.
She felt his presence.
She couldn’t really explain how she knew the presence was male, but as she felt the wedge of water buffet her slightly Lydia knew quite simply that it was, and, snapping out of her almost hypnotic trance she shifted back to an alert, edgy state. The effortless strokes she had been executing were more cumbersome now. Her breath was no longer coming regularly, her strokes were no longer deep and rhythmic, and she grasped the marble beneath her fingers, turned around and held onto the edge to catch her breath a moment.
Her eyes gazed the length of the pool, idly focusing on the man coming towards her, and suddenly, despite the width, it was as if the pool had shrunk. Maybe she was too used to the routine of her usual gym—the lanes neatly divided by a row of yellow buoys, swimmers keeping strictly their lanes—but he was heading straight for her, every stroke drawing him closer, long, muscled arms stroking their way nearer. Inexplicably she didn’t move, just held onto the edge as he came in too soon, too fast.
‘Scusi.’ Even though it was the shallow end the water was still deep, but he stood his ground, didn’t need to clutch the edge as Lydia did, shaking his black hair, blinking his eyes and facing hers. ‘I thought it was bigger…’
‘Me too.’ She gave a small shrug, understanding instantly what he meant—the regular length of a pool like