The Apollonides Mistress Scandal / Rich Man's Vengeful Seduction: The Apollonides Mistress Scandal / Rich Man's Vengeful Seduction. Laura Wright
mouth flattened. “Try. I’m sure you will find there are more vices that you will remember. Like lying.”
Gemma’s breath left her in a rush.
“When did I lie?” Did he know? She gave him a searching look as adrenaline started to pump through her. God. What would he do if he discovered—
“When I discovered you’d taken a drop in pay, I thought you lied to me. That you had another agenda. Don’t ever lie to me.”
She almost collapsed from relief. So she glared at him. “I’m not lying. I do need money. My credit card is a little over-extended.” The thirty-thousand dollar debt merited a bigger description than little.
“Too much shopping and partying?”
If he only knew. While Mandy had been a party animal, Gemma preferred spending her spare time outdoors. Walking. Windsurfing. Or simply attending concerts in parks. Simple pleasures, not the sophisticated pursuits his mistresses would enjoy.
She pursed her lips. How could she admit how much money had vanished, and that she had no idea where it had gone? The large cash withdrawals her credit-card statements reflected told her nothing.
“You had no debt three years ago. And some nice pieces of jewellery.” He gave a pointed stare at the ring she wore. The ring Mandy had given her just before she had died and Angelo had claimed to have bought for Mandy in Monaco.
“I don’t know what happened to all that,” she said honestly.
He gave her a searching look. “You don’t remember?”
She nodded.
“I was more than generous,” he said. “I indulged your desire to party, to shop until your cupboards were overflowing. If you’d behaved better, you might not be in this predicament.”
Surely Angelo wasn’t suggesting they might still be together? Not when she knew the kind of man he was. A playboy. A man who traded one beautiful woman for another, as soon as their temporary sell-by date was over.
Her lip curled. “You mean, if I was still your mistress? Putting up with your demands, your—”
“I thought you’d forgotten everything. So how do you remember how demanding I was?” His tone held a sensual rasp, belied by his shrewd gaze.
“I read gossip cuttings. How do you think I learned about our affair?”
He reached out and put finger a finger under her chin. He put enough pressure to tilt her head up, so that he could stare down into her eyes. “So you came here not only to earn money and regain your memory, but to learn more about us?”
The sudden flare of heat that followed in the wake of the touch of that one finger shocked her. No. She was not going to respond to his very obvious attraction. He was the last man on earth to whom she could afford to be attracted.
A spoilt playboy who’d had a fortune handed to him on a plate. A dilettante who destroyed people without compunction. Keeping her voice level she said, “I know exactly what kind of man you are.”
“Do you really?” He raised a dark eyebrow, looming over her.
Too close. Too male. Too…everything.
She backpedaled. “I don’t remember anything, but I know how you make me feel.”
“And how is that?” The pressure of the pad of his index finger lessened. The tip trailed down her throat and settled just below the tender hollow at the base of her neck. The touch felt like a brand.
Oh, no. She spotted the trap too late. She swallowed. “Repelled.”
He bared his teeth in triumph at the tiny give away as her throat moved. “Ah, you tempt me to prove you a liar.”
Gemma gave an uneasy laugh. “Perhaps I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
His pupils expanded. “Go on.”
“I came here to ask for your help.” She sucked in a breath. “I woke alone in a hospital in London with no memory of how I got there, who I’d been with at the time of the accident or where I’d been.”
His hand dropped away.
Gemma could breathe again.
Until he spoke. “You weren’t able to track down information from the people with you at the time of the accident?”
She had to be careful. She couldn’t afford to trip herself up. “The only clue about where I’d been was a bunch of old pay slips from Palace of Poseidon.” She’d found them in her sister’s things. “Later I found out that I’d worked here…that we’d had an affair.”
More lies. It hadn’t been later. Mandy had e-mailed her from Strathmos, crowing about the fabulously wealthy man she’d landed.
Gemma stared at him defiantly. “That’s why I’m here. I thought if I came…back…met you, I might remember something about—” she paused “—my past.”
His expression altered subtly. He came closer. “Is it working?”
“No.” Her voice turned husky. She picked up a towel and draped it over her bare, exposed tummy. “I had hoped by staying on Strathmos some things might come back to me. But they haven’t.” She paused for a beat, peered up at him over the top of her sunglasses. “But perhaps if you helped, if you let me ask you some questions, maybe something you say might act as a trigger. And the past might come back to me.”
She waited, holding her breath, her blood hammering in her head, causing it to ache with tension. What had Angelo done to reduce Mandy from a confident, somewhat reckless party girl to a pale, shaking ghost of her former self?
She had to find out.
At last he gave a curt nod. “But if it doesn’t work, that’s it. Okay? You leave as soon as your contract is complete.” He rose to his feet. “We’ll start tonight, after your show.”
“I’d rather meet in the mornings.”
“I’m a busy man. If you want my help then you’ll have to meet me tonight. In my suite.”
“No.” Gemma shook her head emphatically, her hair swirling around her face. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him. The attraction he held terrified her. While she desperately wanted to know what he’d done to her twin, she was not about to let him destroy her in the process. “I’ll meet you after the show in the Dionysus bar.”
For a moment Gemma thought she’d lost him. Then he said, “You’re on.”
Five
When Gemma hurried into the Dionysus bar later that night it was buzzing. She hesitated, scanning the press of people, until Angelo rose from a table near the window. Outside, the resort’s landscaped gardens were lit by floodlights. Beyond them she could see the lights of vessels winking out on the dark sea.
“Sorry I’m late,” she gasped. “I had to shower and change.” She indicated to the shimmery wraparound dress that she’d slipped on.
“No problem.” He pulled out a chair for her. “How did the performance go?”
“Good. It never fails to put me on a high.”
Angelo beckoned to a waiter. “What can I order for you to drink?”
“A white-wine cooler would be good—with lots of sparkling water, ice and a little lime, please.”
He gave her a long look. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Your performance is over. You can have something more…robust if you want.”
The euphoria left her. She sagged into the chair. “I don’t drink much of the hard stuff. But thanks.”
Gemma watched him as he spoke to the waiter. What