All That Glitters by Linda Howard
Jessica flung aside the covers and stood up, her bearing erect and proud, her head high. "You're right about one thing," she said in a clipped voice. "I'm not the woman for you."
He watched silently as she went over to her gown and picked it up from the floor, slipping quickly into it. As she slid her feet into her shoes, she said, "Good-bye, Nikolas. It's been an interesting experience."
"Don't be so hasty, my dear," he jeered cruelly. "Before you walk out that door, you should consider that you could gain even more by being my mistress than you did by marrying Robert Stanton. I'm prepared to pay well."
Bitter pride kept her from reacting to that jibe. "Thanks, but no, thanks," she said carelessly, opening the door. "I'll wait for a better offer from another man. Don't bother seeing me out, Nikolas. You aren't dressed for it."
He actually laughed, throwing back his arrogant head. "Call me if you change your mind," he said by way of good-bye, and she walked out without looking back.
She called Charles early the next morning and told him that she would be out of town for several weeks. She hadn't cried, her eyes had remained dry and burning, but she knew that she couldn't remain in London. She would return only when Nikolas had left, flown back to his island. "I'm going to the cottage," she told Charles. "And don't tell Nikolas where I am, though I doubt that he'll bother to ask. If you let me down in this, Charles, I swear I won't ever speak to you again."
"Had a spat, did you?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice.
"No, it was really a rather quiet parting of the ways.
He called me a whore and said I wasn't good enough to marry, and I walked out," she explained coolly.
"My God!" Charles said something under his breath, then said urgently, "Are you all right, Jessica? Are you certain you should go haring off to Cornwall by yourself? Give yourself time to calm down."
"I'm very calm," she said, and she was. "I need a holiday and I'm taking it. You know where I am if anything urgent comes up, but other than that, I don't expect to see you for several weeks."
"Very well. Jessica, dear, are you certain?"
"Of course. I'm perfectly all right. Don't worry, Charles. I'm taking Samantha and the pups with me; they'll enjoy romping around Cornwall."
After hanging up, she made certain everything in the house was turned off, picked up her purse and walked out, carefully locking the door behind her. Her luggage was already in the car, as were Samantha and her wiggling, energetic family, traveling in a large box.
The rest in Cornwall would do her good, help her to forget Nikolas Constantinos. She had had a close call and she was grateful that she had escaped with her self-respect intact. At least she had prevented him from realizing how shattered she was.
Turning it over and over in her mind as she made the long drive to Cornwall, she wondered if she hadn't known all along just what Nikolas thought of her. Why else had she mentioned marriage at such a moment, when he was on the brink of making love to her? Hadn't she subconsciously realized that he would not let her think he intended marriage in order to seduce her?
She was glad that she hadn't told him that she was a virgin; he would have laughed in her face. She could have proved it to him, he would no doubt have demanded proof, but she was too proud. Why should she prove anything to him? She had loved Robert and he had loved her, and she would not apologize for their marriage. Somehow she would forget Nikolas Constantinos, wipe him out of her thoughts. She would not let his memory destroy her life!
* * *
Chapter Seven
For six weeks Jessica pored over the newspapers, searching for any notice, however small, to indicate that Nikolas had returned to Greece. He was mentioned several times, but it was always to say that he was flying here or there for a conference, and a day or so later she would read that he had returned to London. Why was he staying in England? He had never before remained for so long, always returning to his island at the first opportunity. She had no contact with Charles, so she couldn't ask him for any information, not that she would have anyway. She didn't want to know about Nikolas, she told herself fiercely time and again, but that didn't ease the ache in her heart that kept her lying awake night after night and turned food to ashes in her mouth.
She lost weight, her already slim figure becoming fragile. Instead of recovering, she was in danger of going into a Victorian decline, she told herself mockingly, but no amount of willpower could make her swallow more than a bite or two of food at any meal.
Long walks with Samantha and the gamboling puppies for company tired her out but did not reduce her to the state of exhaustion that she needed in order to sleep. After a while she began to feel haunted. Everything reminded her of Nikolas, though nothing was the same as it had been in London. She heard his voice, she remem-bered his devouring kisses, his fierce possessiveness. Perhaps he hadn't loved her, but he had certainly wanted her; he had been quite blatant about his desire.
Had he expected her to return to him? Was that why he was still in London? The thought was heady, but she knew that nothing had changed. He would take her on his terms, or not at all.
Still she lingered at the cottage, walking every day down to the beach, where the vacationers romped and children went into ecstatic fits over the five fat, prancing puppies. They had been weaned now, and mindful of their increasing size she gave them away one by one to the adoring children. Then there was only Samantha left with her, and the days trickled slowly past.
Then, one morning, she looked at herself in the mirror as she was braiding her hair, really looked at herself, and was stunned at what she saw. Had she really allowed Nikolas Constantinos to turn her into this pale, fragile creature with huge, dark-circled eyes? What was wrong with her? She loved him, yes; in spite of everything he had said to her, she still loved him, but she wasn't so weak in spirit that she would let him destroy her!
She began to realize that it solved nothing to hide away here in Cornwall. She wasn't getting over him; if anything, she was being eaten alive by the need to see him, to touch him.
Suddenly her chin lifted as an idea came to her. She still loved him, she could not rid herself of that, but it was no longer the pure, innocent love that she had offered him the first time. Bitter fires had scorched her heart. For the burned remains of that sweetness, physical love might be enough. Perhaps in his arms she might find that all of her love had been burned out and she would be free. And if not—if she found that in spite of everything she continued to love him—in the years to come, when he was married to his pure, chaste little Elena, she would have the memories and knowledge of his passion, passion such as Elena would never know.
Then she realized that when she became his mistress he would know that no other man had ever touched her. What would he think? Would he apologize, beg her forgiveness? The thought left her curiously unmoved, except for the bitterly humorous thought that the only way she could prove her virtue to him was by losing it. The situation was ironic, and she wondered if Nikolas would appreciate the humor of it when he knew.
Without consciously admitting it, her mind was made up. She would accept Nikolas on his terms, give up her respectability and chastity for the physical gratification that he could give her. But she would not let him support her; she would keep her independence and her pride, and when he married his pure little Greek girl, she would walk away and never see him again. She would be his mistress, but she would not be a party to adultery.
So she packed her clothing and closed up the cottage, put Samantha in the car and began the long drive back to London. The first thing she did was call Charles and tell him that she had returned, assuring him that she was fine. He had to go out of town that afternoon or he would have come over, and she was glad that their meeting was postponed. If Charles saw her now, so thin and wan, he would know that something was dreadfully wrong.
That same problem worried her the next morning as she dressed. She couldn't get up the courage to call Nikolas; he might tell her that he was no lo
She used her makeup carefully, applying slightly more blusher than she normally used and taking extra care with her eyes. Her hair would have to be left down to hide the thin lines of her neck and soften the fleshless contours of her cheekbones. When she dressed, she chose a floaty dress in a soft peach color, and was satisfied when she looked in the mirror. Nothing could quite disguise how delicate she had become, but she looked far from haggard.
As she drove to ConTech, she remembered the first time she had made this drive to meet Nikolas. She had been rushed, irritable, and not at all pleased. Now she was going to offer him what she had never thought to offer any man, the use and enjoyment of her body without benefit of marriage, and the only comfort she could find was that her body was all he would have. She had offered him her heart once, and he had scorned it. Never again would she give him the chance to hurt her like that.
Everyone recognized her now as she went up in the elevator, for she had often met Nikolas for lunch. Surprised murmurs of "Good morning, Mrs. Stanton" followed her, and she wondered for the first time if Nikolas was pursuing someone else now, but it really made no difference if he was. He could only turn her down if he was no longer interested, and any other rival would eventually have to give way to the precious, innocent Elena.
The receptionist looked up as she entered, and smiled warmly. "Mrs. Stanton! How nice it is to see you again!"
The greeting seemed genuinely friendly, and Jessica smiled in return. "Hello, Irena. Is Nikolas in today?"
"Why, yes, he is, though I believe he's planning a trip this afternoon."
"Thank you. I'll go in, if I may. Andros is here?"
"On guard as usual," Irena said, and wrinkled her nose in a private little communication that actually made Jessica laugh aloud. Evidently Andros had not endeared himself to the rest of the staff.
Calmly she walked into the office, and immediately Andros rose from his seat. "Mrs. Stanton!" he exclaimed.
"Hello, Andros," she returned as he eyed her with frank dislike. "I'd like to see Nikolas, please."
"I'm sorry," he refused in coolly neutral tones, though his eyes sparkled with delight at being able to turn her down. "Mr. Constantinos has someone with him right now and will be unable to talk to you for some time."
"And he's leaving on a business trip this afternoon," said Jessica dryly.
"Yes, he is," Andros said, his lips quirking in triumph.
Jessica looked at him for a moment, anger building in her. She was sick and tired of being treated like dirt, and from this moment on she planned to fight back. "Very well," she said. "Give him a message for me, please, Andros. Tell him that I'm willing to agree to his terms, if he's still interested, and he can get in touch with me. That's all."
She turned on her heel and heard Andros strangle in alarm. "Mrs. Stanton!" he protested. "I can't—"
"You will have to," she cut in as she opened the door, and had a glimpse of the consternation in his black eyes as she left the office. He had damned himself either way now, for if he passed on the message Nikolas would know that Andros had refused her entrance, and he would not dare withhold the message, for if Nikolas ever found out—and Andros knew that Jessica would make certain he did—there would be hell to pay. Jessica smiled to herself as she walked back to the elevator. Andros had had that coming for a long time.
The elevator took its time arriving, but she wasn't impatient. The way she figured it, Nikolas would hear from Andros in about ten minutes, and he would try to reach her on the phone when he had decided that she had enough time to get home. If she was late getting back, that was all to the good. Let Nikolas wait for a while.
Several other people were in the elevator when it finally did arrive, and it was necessary to stop at every floor before she finally reached the entrance level. She crossed to the glass doors, but as she reached out to push them open, a dark-clothed arm reached past her and opened it for her. She raised her head to thank the man for his courtesy, but the words stuck in her throat as she stared up into the leaping black eyes of Nikolas.
"You've terrified Andros out of ten years of his life," he said easily, taking her arm and ushering her through the door.
"Good. He deserved it," she replied, then eyed him curiously. He was carrying his briefcase, as if he had left for the day. "But how did you get down so fast?"
"The stairs," he admitted, and grinned down at her. "I wasn't taking a chance of letting you get away from me today and not being able to find you before I have to leave this afternoon. That's probably the only reason Andros found the courage to give me your message so promptly; he knew I'd break his neck if he waited until later. You were serious, Jessica?"
"Perfectly," she assured him.
He still held her arm, his fingers warm and caressing, but his grip was unbreakable nonetheless. A limousine had drawn up to the curb and he led her to it. The driver jumped out and opened the back door and Nikolas helped her into the spacious back seat, then got in beside her. He gave the driver her address and then closed the sliding window between them.
"My car is here," she told him.
"It'll be perfectly safe until we return," he said, carrying her fingers to his lips for a light kiss. "Or did you think I could calmly leave on a dull business trip after receiving a message like that? No, darling, it's impossible. I'm taking you with me." And he gave her a look of such burning, primitive hunger that she shivered in automatic reaction to his sexuality.
"But I can't just leave," she objected. "Samantha—"
"Don't be silly," he interrupted softly. "Do you think I can't arrange to have a small dog looked after, or that I'd allow such a small thing to stand in my way? Samantha can be taken to an excellent kennel. I'll handle all the details; all you have to do is pack."
"Where are we going?" she asked, turning her head to look at the passing city streets. Evidently his desire had not waned, for there was no hesitation in his manner.
"To Paris, just for a couple of days. A perfect city to begin a relationship," he commented. "Unfortunately I'll be busy during the day with meetings, but the nights will be ours completely. Or perhaps I'll simply cancel the meetings and keep you in bed the entire time."
"Not good business practice," she said lightly. "I won't nag at you if you have to go off to your meetings."
"That's not very good for my ego," he teased, rubbing her wrist with his strong fingers. "I'd like to think that you burn for my touch as I do for yours. I'd nearly reached the limit of my patience, darling; another week and I'd have gone to Cornwall after you."
Startled, she looked at him. "You knew where I was?"
"Of course. Did you think I'd let you simply walk out on me? If you hadn't come back to me, I was going to force the issue, make you mine even if you bit and clawed, but I don't think you'd have resisted for long, hmmm?"
It was humiliating to think that she hadn't been out of his reach even in Cornwall; he had known where she was and been content to let her brood. She turned her head again to stare blindly out the window, vainly trying to find comfort in the fact that he was, after all, still attracted to her. He might not love her, not as she understood love, but she did have some power over him.
He lifted her hand again and gently placed his lips on her soft palm. "Don't pout, darling," he said softly. "I knew that you'd come back to me when you decided to be realistic. I can be a very generous man; you'll want for nothing. You'll be treated like a queen, I promise you."
Deliberately Jessica pulled her hand away. "There are several things I want to discuss with you, Nikolas," she said in a remote tone. "There are conditions I want met; otherwise, I'm not interested in any sort of a relationship with you."
"Of course," he agreed dryly, his strong mouth curving into a cynical smile. "How much, my dear? And do
Ignoring him, she said, "First, I want to keep my own house. I don't want to live with you. You can visit me, or I'll visit you if you prefer that, but I want a life apart from yours."
"That's not necessary," he snapped, his straight brows pulling together over suddenly thunderous eyes.
"It's very necessary," she insisted evenly. "I don't delude myself that any relationship with you will be permanent, and I don't want to find myself forced to live in a hotel because I've given up my own home. And as I said, I'm not interested in living with you."
"Don't be so certain of that," he mocked. "Very well, I agree to that condition. You're always free to move in with me when you change your mind."
"Thank you. Second, Nikolas"—here she turned to him and fixed him with an even stare, her green eyes clear and determined, her soft voice nevertheless threaded with steel so that he knew she meant every word—"I will never, under any circumstances, accept any money or expensive gifts from you. As you told Amanda Waring, I don't need your money. I'll be your lover, but I'll never be your kept woman. And finally, on the day you become engaged to your Elena, I'll walk away from you and never see you again. If you're an unfaithful husband, it won't be with me."
A dark blush of anger had swept over his features as she spoke, then he became motionless. "Do you think my marriage would change the way you feel about me?" he demanded harshly. "You might feel now that you could walk away from me, but once you've known my touch, once we've lain together, do you truly think that you could forget me?"