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Shackled by Diamonds Page 3
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Leo’s mouth tightened.
He hated being wrong. About anything.
Or anyone.
Anna’s feet were killing her again. It was the worst aspect of modelling, she thought—apart from the boredom and the sleaze.
But she stood, politely attentive, while a stout German industrialist regaled her with the healing properties of spa waters. Across the room, Anna could see Leo Makarios talking to someone. She hoped he was happy with the Christmas lights.
They were certainly getting enough attention from the guests, that was for sure. She’d been on the receiving end of countless inspections by both men and women—though the male ones had been liberally blended with lecherous looks as well—speculating about the price. And not just of the jewels.
That was why she was sticking where she was. Spa cures might not be the most fascinating subject in the world, but the German industrialist was treating her with great courtesy. Better still, he was keeping other men away from her.
All except one.
‘Hans, wie gehts?’
The deep, accented voice was unmistakable.
Anna felt herself tense automatically, vivid with awareness of who had just approached.
The industrialist’s face lit into a warm smile and he launched into German. As Leo Makarios answered him in the same language, his voice rich and smooth, Anna could feel him looking at her, taking in the ostentatious display of diamonds she was showing off.
As he regarded her she kept her face expressionless, her eyes blank.
For a moment Leo thought of telling her that she’d been right, that wearing the entire parure was overkill, detracting from the exquisite beauty of the rainfall necklace.
Then Hans Federman was asking a question about his experience of doing business in the former Eastern Bloc, and comparing it with his own company’s experiences.
Taking advantage of the diversion, Anna was about to drift off. But as she started to move, without pausing a beat in what he was saying, Leo Makarios snaked his hand out and fastened it round her wrist.
Anna froze. Entirely opposite reactions flashed through her. One was an instinct to yank her arm away from his restraining hold. The second was a bolt of hot electricity that shocked her to her core.
Then, abruptly, her wrist was dropped. Leo Makarios stopped talking and turned his head to her.
‘Don’t wander off, please, Ms…?’ He cocked an eyebrow at her, pointedly waiting for her to supply her name.
‘Anna Delane,’ she said reluctantly. She wondered why she was so unwilling to let Leo Makarios know her name. All he had to do was ask one of his scores of minions, including that obsequious toady Justin Vennor, who’d lectured the four models for half an hour on how they must behave impeccably in such august and glittering surroundings.
‘Anna.’
It was just her name, that was all. She’d heard it said all her life.
But not like this…
A shiver went down her spine. She could feel it. It started somewhere at the nape of her neck and shimmered down the length of her back.
For a second Leo’s gaze just rested on her. She felt it like a tangible weight. Assessing her.
Then it was gone. Leo Makarios turned back and resumed his German conversation.
Mutely, Anna stayed at his side.
He kept her there for the rest of the evening.
It took all her professionalism to keep going. That and a dogged, grim determination that she was not going to let this get to her.
Let Leo Makarios get to her.
Because he was.
She could tell herself all she liked that to a man like Leo Makarios, surrounded as he was by chic, elegant, rich and aristocratic women from his own world, she was nothing but a walking jewellery display.
But why, then, was he keeping her at his side? And if her, then why not the other models in turn?
She said as much at one point. He had just disengaged himself gracefully from a Dutch banker and his wife, and had taken Anna’s elbow to guide her towards the buffet tables.
‘Isn’t it time to show off the other stones now, Mr Makarios? There’s Kate with the rubies—over there.’
She indicated where the brunette was gazing awestruck, or so it seemed to her, at one of the men in the group she was part of. He was, Anna recognised, the orchestra’s conductor.
Leo Makarios’s gaze flicked across to Kate.
‘How could I deprive Antal Lukacs of his latest adoring fan?’ he murmured sardonically. ‘And such a young and beautiful one.’
Anna’s eyes widened. ‘That’s Antal Lukacs?’ Even she had heard of such a world-famous conductor.
The heavy-lidded eyes glanced down at her.
‘Would you like to meet him?’
‘I’m sure he’s quite bored enough with people gushing all over him,’ she said dismissively.
‘Somehow,’ Leo Makarios murmured, ‘I can’t see you gushing over anyone.’ His voice became dryer suddenly, more critical. ‘You are certainly quite unimpressed to be wearing jewels that every woman here envies you wearing.’
Anna looked up at him.
‘They’re just carbon crystals—valued only because they are rare. Lots of other common crystals are just as beautiful. Diamonds are only worth money—’
‘They are the Levantsky diamonds! Works of art in their own right,’ Leo said sharply.
She shrugged. ‘So is Mozart’s music—and that doesn’t cost millions to enjoy!’
The dark eyes rested on her. She watched them narrow very slightly. She did not look away. Why should she?
‘I was told,’ he said softly—and it was that same softness that had raised the hair on the nape of her neck earlier ‘—that you have an attitude issue. Lose it.’
She smiled sweetly up at him. She could feel adrenaline start to run in her.
‘Is that another of your instructions, Mr Makarios?’
For a long moment he looked at her. She felt the adrenaline curl around every cell in her body.
‘What is your problem, Ms Delane?’ he asked, in that same soft, deadly voice.
You, she wanted to say. You’re the problem.
Then, even as she stared defiantly back at him, her false smile straightening to a thin, pressed line, something changed in his eyes.
He seemed to move minutely, as if closing her off from the rest of the room.
The lashes swept down over his eyes, and she felt the breath in her throat tighten.
‘Don’t fight me,’ he said in a low voice. Then she could see it. Something else came into his eyes, something that made a hollow where her stomach usually was. ‘You really are,’ he added slowly, ‘quite incredibly beautiful…’
Anna felt the hollow where her stomach had been turn slowly over.
No. She didn’t want this happening. She didn’t.
She opened her mouth to say so. Say something. Anything. But all she could do was stare. The room disappeared; the people disappeared; everything vanished. She was just standing, looking up at the man—letting him look at her. Look at her with those powerful heavy-lidded eyes, over which those long dark lashes were sweeping down.
The hollow where her stomach had been pooled with heat—heat that was starting to spread out through the veins in her body, carried by her treacherous beating heart.
She saw him see it. See the way the heat was starting to flow through her body. The eyes, so dark, so lambent, narrowed. A smile curved along his wide, mobile mouth. It was a smile of acknowledgement, satisfaction.
Anticipation.
He murmured something to her. So quietly that in the buzz of noise and conversation all around Anna thought she must have imagined it.
Of course she had imagined it.
But for a moment she thought he had murmured, ‘Later…’
Then, in an instant, his expression changed, becoming smooth and bland.
‘Ah, Minister…’
The perambulation resumed. And Leo Makarios st
ill kept Anna at his side.
Anna kicked off her shoes with a sense of relief. Then she peeled off the long black satin gloves, dropping them onto the dressing table stool in her room. Hooking her now bare fingers round her back, she started to undo the painstakingly fastened together dress. The diamonds had been handed back into the care of the security company, and finally the models had been free to go up to their rooms. Anna had hardly been able to wait.
God, the evening had been endless!
And more than that. Her nerves were shredded, stretched to breaking point.
Being touted around by Leo Makarios had been excruciating.
She could feel the tension racking up in her.
He was getting to her, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Her lips pressed together. Spending time with the man the way she had should have desensitised her to him. Should have made her get past that ridiculous disturbing rush she’d felt when he’d first walked in on the shoot and had such an impact on her. By now she should simply be able to see him abstractly, as a good-looking man. Exceptionally so, for a rich man—the combination was as rare as hen’s teeth in her experience—but nothing more. Certainly not a man who should have the slightest effect on her.
Such as making her breath catch in her throat.
Heat flush through her.
Nerves quicken in awareness.
Electricity shoot through her.
No!
Grimly she stared at herself in the mirror over the dressing table.
Yes, she was slightly flushed; her eyes were a little wider than usual. But that was just because it had been a long day and a longer evening. She was tired, that was all.
She looked at her reflection defiantly.
Out of the glass stared back a familiar image. The black hair, the pale skin and the green eyes. Probably inherited from your dad—whoever he was—her gran had always told her. The dramatic, eye-catching features an accidental meshing of DNA that had just happened to produce a face that was beautiful.
But her beauty was just a commodity. She sold it, day after day, to anyone who paid the right price for it.
And that’s all I sell.
Too many men thought otherwise. Thought she was also selling the right for them to look her up and down, strip her naked with their eyes, wonder what she was like in bed, offer to find out…
She turned away from the mirror sharply, continuing to undo, hook by hook, the simple but beautifully made dress.
At least she was free of the diamonds. The whole ridiculous glitter of them. Her eyes hardened again. Had Leo Makarios really not been able to see how overdone the whole lot was when worn together like that? That the sum was less than the individual pieces?
She shook her head in impatience. Who cared what Leo Makarios thought? About his wretched Levantsky diamonds or about her.
Or, she told herself doggedly, what she thought about him.
It’s completely academic anyway. After this I’ll never set eyes on him again. And then I’ll be safe…
She stilled. Why had she used that word? She was safe from Leo Makarios right now! Yes, he’d cast his eye over her, and found her visually pleasing, but she’d obviously annoyed him with her attitude—and anyway, for heaven’s sake, the man was in the middle of a glittering, glamorous party held to impress his rich pals—he wasn’t going to take time out to chase around some clothes-horse he’d hired. And who said he wanted her in the first place? A man with his looks and money must have women queuing round the block for his attention. He could pick any woman he wanted from his glittering social circle. He was probably schmoozing some Austrian countess or Park Avenue princess right now.
So how come he clamped you to his side the whole evening?
She shrugged. Justin had probably warned him that her booker had called her ‘difficult’, and so Leo Makarios had just been keeping her in order—at his side.
A saying floated through her head.
Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.
She frowned. Why had that come into her mind?
Leo Makarios was neither a friend nor an enemy.
He was a stranger. Nothing more.
And he was going to stay one.
That way, he’d never be dangerous to her.
CHAPTER THREE
LEO strolled down the long carpeted corridor, the two household staff in front of him loaded down with trays.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever been to this floor before. It wasn’t the old servants’ quarters in the attic, but nor was it guest apartments. But even if the rooms up here lacked the opulent extravagance of the main floors of the Schloss they were still very comfortably appointed. Just right for office staff or other employees. He wondered idly if the three models were all housed in a row. The redhead, of course, would be with Markos, in one of the lavish suites below. Would the blonde and the brunette have found somewhere else to sleep tonight? he mused. Maybe the brunette was busy adoring Antal Lukacs from close quarters, he though cynically, knowing the conductor’s penchant for females. The blonde, though, had looked far too tense to be receptive to the admiration she had received during the evening.
None of them were of any interest to him, however. There was only one woman who had caught his eye, and she, he knew, had been highly receptive to him. Oh, she might have an attitude issue, but that was immaterial. It wouldn’t last. He would see to that. He’d have her purring like a cat before long.
Women always purred for him.
The two staff stopped outside one of the doors and glanced back at him. He gave a nod, and one of them knocked discreetly.
Inside the room, Anna paused, dropping her hands from her back. What on earth…? The knock came again. Hastily doing up her hooks again, for decency’s sake, she crossed over and opened the door. Outside were two of the household staff, each bearing a huge tray covered with a linen cloth.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, taken aback. ‘I mean—um—Entschuldigen Sie bitte, aber Ich habe nicht…’
Her sketchy German failed her. She had no idea how to say she had not ordered anything.
The man merely bowed slightly and swept in, followed by the second man. They set both trays down on the low table in front of a pair of armchairs by the window, and removed the cloths.
An entire light supper was contained on the trays—including, she saw, a bottle of chilled white wine, a flagon of orange juice, a jug of mineral water and a coffee pot.
‘I’m afraid I didn’t ask for—’ she began.
‘But I, however, did.’ A deep, familiar voice interrupted her.
She whipped round. There, in the doorway, stood Leo Makarios.
For a moment Anna just stared, unable to believe her eyes.
Let alone what was happening.
He strolled into her room.
He was still in evening dress, still looking impeccable, as only a man of his height, wealth and looks could look, but there was a faint shadow along his jaw that somehow suddenly made him look—
Sexy.
The word came out of nowhere into her brain, and the moment it formed she was horrified.
She opened her mouth to say something. Anything. But her mind was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Predominant was disbelief. Sheer disbelief that Leo Makarios was strolling into her bedroom, one hand in his trouser pocket, looking as though he had every right to be there.
The two members of his household staff evidently thought so. They were diligently laying out their wares on the low table, deftly and neatly, placing a large plate of thinly sliced smoked chicken, ham and salmon together with a bowl of salad and a basket of bread in the centre, with porcelain plates and silver cutlery nestling in white damask napkins. Crystal glasses followed suit, and then a coffee service and drinks and a plate of tiny chocolate truffles.
‘Won’t you sit down?’ said Leo Makarios, indicating one of the armchairs. He simultaneously lowered his tall frame into the other one.
What the
hell do you think you’re doing? She wanted to scream at him.
But the presence of the two staff made it impossible. Good grief, the last thing she wanted was to make a public scene that would inevitably feed back into the gossip machine that was always at work around the rich and famous.
Every nerve screwed tight, she urged them mentally to clear out. Because the moment they were gone she would—
‘Gnadige Fraulein?’ One of the staff was indicating her chair, bowing politely. The other was busy opening the wine.
Oh, hell, she would have to sit down, pretend that—my goodness—no, of course there was nothing strange in the castle’s multimillionaire owner turning up to have a little midnight supper with her!
Stiffly, she sat down, carefully ensuring the narrow skirts of her excruciatingly valuable dress were not catching on anything. Her face was a mask. But behind the mask her emotions were tumbling like a wash cycle set to crazy.
Skirts settled, and ignoring the fact that her back was imperfectly fastened, she looked up, ready to aim a killing glare at him.
Instead, she just stared, the breath stalling in her throat.
Leo Makarios was loosening his dress tie and slipping the top button on his shirt.
That, and the shadowed jawline, made her heart stop beating.
Oh, dear God, he is just so—
The word slipped straight into her mind—right out of her subconscious.
Sexy.
It was that word again, coming out of nowhere—refusing to go. She had heard it a million times—it was one of the most popular in the fashion world. But it had never meant anything at all to her. It was just people posing and pouting and putting it on for the camera or an audience.
With Leo Makarios it was real.
And it was, she realised, standing there as if someone had punched her in the solar plexus, incredibly powerful.
She tried desperately to analyse it away. It was just the juxtaposition of contrasting modes, that was all—the severe formality of the tuxedo with the raffish informality of a loosened tie and shirt, accentuated by the roughened jawline.
But the effect didn’t diminish. Quite the reverse, it simply gained potency, aided and abetted by the way his lean frame lounged back in supreme ease, long legs stretched out, hands curved over the arms of the chair, head resting on the chair-back, those dark heavy-lidded eyes resting on her.