A Tangled Affair (9 page)

“He arrived before I did.”

Her stomach sank. That meant the press would be going all out with whatever story they could leverage out of that kiss. “Even more reason for you not to be here.”

He leaned over and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

Carla gauged the time it would take to dash to her small garage, open the door and back her convertible out. With the reporter just a few fast steps away it would be no contest.

The flash and whir of the camera sent a second shot of adrenaline zinging through her veins as she slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door. The thunk of the locks engaging coincided with the throaty roar of the engine as the vehicle shot away from the curb. Seconds later, they were on the motorway heading into town and forced to an agonizing crawl by rush-hour traffic.

Carla relaxed her death grip on her purse, strapped on her seat belt and checked the rearview mirror. Anything but acknowledge the fact that she was once more within touching distance of Lucas Atraeus.

And riding in his car.

Although this wasn’t his personal car. His taste usually ran to something a little more muscular and a lot faster, like the Maserati, but the intimacy still set her on edge and recalled one too many memories she would rather forget.

The first time they had made love had been in a car.

Two years ago he had given her a lift home from a dinner at a restaurant, a family meet-and-greet following Constantine and Sienna’s first engagement.

Accepting a lift with Lucas, when she had expected to be delivered home the same way she had arrived, via hired limousine service, had seemed safe despite his bad-boy reputation with the tabloids. Plus there was the fact that recently he had been photographed on two separate occasions, each time with a different gorgeous girl.

Despite telling herself that he was clearly not on the hunt, when she slid into his car, she had felt a deliciously edgy kind of thrill. Lucas was gorgeous in a dangerous, masculine way, so she was more than a little flattered to be singled out for his attention.

It had taken a good half hour to reach her apartment during which time Lucas had played cruising music and asked her about her family and whether or not she was dating.

When they’d reached her place it was pitch-dark. Instead of parking out on the street, Lucas had driven right up to her garage door and parked beneath the shelter of a large shade tree. An oak overhung the driveway and blocked the neighbor’s view on one side. Her security lights had flicked on as Lucas turned off the engine, although they remained encapsulated in darkness since the garage blocked the light from reaching the car.

With the music gone, the silence took on a heavy intensity, and her stomach had tightened on a kick of nerves because she knew in that moment that despite her frantic reasoning to the contrary, he
did
want to kiss her. If Lucas was just dropping her home, he wouldn’t have driven right into her driveway, and so far up it that the car was partially concealed.

He had barely touched her all night, although she had been aware that he had been watching her and, admittedly, she had played to her audience.

But all of the time she had flirted and played she had been on edge in a feminine way, her nerves tingling. She was used to being pursued, that went with the fashion industry and the PR job. But Lucas was in a whole different league and she hadn’t made up her mind that she wanted him to catch her.

She had turned her head, bracing herself for the jolt of eye contact, and his mouth caught hers, his tongue siding right in. A burning shaft of heat shot straight to her loins and she went limp.

Long seconds later, he had released her mouth. She gulped in air and then his mouth closed on hers again and she was sinking, drowning. Her arms closed convulsively around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, which was thick and silky and just long enough to play with. Not a good idea, since playing with Lucas Atraeus was the dating equivalent of stroking a big hunting cat, but the second he had touched her, her normal rules had evaporated.

She’d felt the zipper of her silk sheath being eased down her spine, the hot shock of his fingers against the bare skin of her back.

He’d muttered something in Medinian, too thick and rapid for her to catch, and lifted his head, jaw taut. “Do you want this?”

She realized he was holding on to control by a thread. The realization of his vulnerability was subtly shocking.

From the first her connection with Lucas had been powerful. Cliché or not, she had literally glanced across the restaurant and been instantly riveted.

Head and shoulders above most of the occupants of the room, all three Atraeus brothers had been compelling, but it had been Lucas’s faintly battered profile that had drawn her.

She had let out a shuddering breath, abruptly aware of what he was asking. Not just a kiss. Somehow they had already stepped way beyond a kiss.

He’d bent his head as if he couldn’t bear not to touch her. His lips feathered her throat, sending hot rills of sensation chasing across her skin, and abruptly something slotted into place in her mind.

She had been twenty-four, and a virgin, not because she had been consciously celibate but for the simple reason that she had never met anyone with whom she wanted to be that intimate. No matter how much she liked a date, if they couldn’t knock her sideways emotionally, she refused to allow anything more than a good-night kiss.

Making love with Lucas Atraeus hadn’t made sense for a whole list of logical reasons. She barely knew him, and so there was no way she could be in love, but instead of recoiling, she’d found herself irresistibly compelled to throw away her rule book. On an instinctive level, with every touch, every kiss, Lucas Atraeus felt utterly right. “Yes.”

A car horn blasted, shattering the recall, jerking Carla’s gaze back to the road.

“What’s wrong?”

Lucas’s deep, raspy voice sent a nervy shock wave through her. His gaze caught hers, dispatching another electrical jolt. “Nothing.”

His phone vibrated. He answered the call, his voice low. A couple of times his gaze intercepted hers and that weird electrical hum of awareness zapped her again, so she switched back to watching the wing mirror. Once she thought she spotted the blue hatchback and she stiffened, but she couldn’t be certain.

“He’s not behind us. I’ve been checking.”

Which raised a question. “You said he got to my place before you did, so how did you know he was there?”

Constantine inched forward in traffic, braked, then reached behind to the backseat and handed her a newspaper, which had been folded open.

The headline, Lightning Strikes Twice for Atraeus Hatchet Man, sent her into mild shock, although she had been expecting something like it.

They hadn’t made the front page, but close. A color photo, which had been taken just as Lucas had kissed her, was slotted directly below the story title.

Her outrage built as she skimmed the piece. According to the reporter, the romantic fires had been reignited during a secret tryst while she’d been on Medinos. An “insider” had supplied the tidbit that the wedding had literally thrown them together and they were now a hot romantic item. Again.

Although the speculation that Lucas would pop the question was strictly lighthearted. According to the “source,” if Carla Ambrosi hadn’t had what it took to keep Atraeus interested the first time around, the “reheat” would be about as exciting as day-old pasta.

Carla dropped the newspaper as if it had scorched her fingers. The instant she had seen her name coupled with Lucas’s she should have known better than to read on.

Two years ago when Lucas had finished with her after that one night, she had been angry enough to go to the press. They’d had a field day with speculation and innuendo. Her skin was a lot thicker now, but the careless digging into her personal life, and the outright lies, still stung.

Reheat
.

Her jaw tightened. If she ever found out who the cowardly “insider” was, the next installment of that particular story could be printed in the crime pages.

Folding the newspaper, she tossed it on the backseat. “You should have called me. You didn’t have to show up on my doorstep.”

Making it look like there really was substance to the story.

“If I’d called, you would have hung up on me.”

She couldn’t argue with that, because it was absolutely true.

Lucas signaled and made a turn into the underground parking garage beneath the Ambrosi building.

Carla was halfway out of the car, dragging her bag, which had snagged on a tiny lever at the base of the seat, when movement jerked her head up. A man with a camera loomed out of the shadows, walking swiftly toward them. Not the guy in the blue hatchback, someone else. The pale gleam of a van with its garish news logo registered in the background.

Lucas, who had walked around to open her door, said something curt beneath his breath as she yanked at the strap. The bag came free and she surged upright.

“Smile, Mr. Atraeus, Ms. Ambrosi. Gotcha!”

The camera flashed as she lurched into Lucas.

The touching was minimal—her shoulder bumped his, he reached out to steady her—but the damage was done. In addition to the kiss outside Lucas’s apartment the tabloids now had photos of Lucas picking her up from her apartment then delivering her to work.

The day-old pasta had just gotten hotter.

Nine

W
hen Carla stepped out of her office to attend the press conference later on that morning, one of Lucas’s bodyguards, Tiberio, was waiting for her in the corridor.

Lucas wasn’t in the office. He had left after dropping her off that morning, so there was no one to interpret. After a short, labored struggle with Tiberio’s fractured English, Carla finally agreed that, yes, they would both follow Lucas’s orders and Tiberio could drive her to the press conference and see her safely inside.

On the way down to the parking garage, she decided that she was secretly glad Lucas had delegated Tiberio to mind her. She had been dreading dealing with the paparazzi when she arrived at the five-star hotel where the press conference was being held.

To her surprise, Tiberio opened the door on a glossy black limousine, not the dark sedan Lucas’s security usually drove. When she slid into the leather interior, she was startled to discover that Lucas was already ensconced there, a briefcase open on the floor, a sheaf of papers in his hand.

The door closed, sealing her in. Lucas said something rapid to Tiberio as he slid behind the wheel. There was a discreet thunk, followed by the low hum of the engine.

She depressed the door handle, when it wouldn’t budge, her gaze clashed with Lucas’s. “You locked it.”

His expression was suspiciously bland. “Standard security precaution.”

Daylight replaced the gloom of the parking garage as they glided up onto the street. Her uneasiness at finding Lucas in the car coalesced into suspicion; she was beginning to feel manipulated. “Tiberio said you had ordered him to mind me, that he was supposed to drop me at the press conference. He didn’t say we would be traveling together.”

Lucas, still dressed in the silver-gray suit and black T-shirt he had been wearing that morning, but now freshly shaved, retrieved a cell phone from his briefcase. “Is there a problem with going together?”

She frowned. “After what happened, wouldn’t it be the smart thing to arrive separately?”

Lucas’s attention was centered on what was, apparently, a swanky new phone. “No.”

Her frustration spiked as he punched in a number and lifted the phone to his ear then subsided just as quickly as she listened to his deep voice, the liquid cadences of his rapid Medinian. Reluctantly fascinated, she hung on every word. He could be reciting a grocery list and she could still listen all day.

Minutes later, the limousine pulled into a space outside the hotel entrance. When she saw the media crush, she experienced a rare moment of panic. Publicity was her thing; she had a natural bent for it. But not today. “Isn’t there a back entrance we can use?”

Lucas, seemingly unconcerned, snapped his phone closed and slipped it into his pocket.

She flashed him an irritated look. “The last thing we need right now is to be seen arriving together, looking like we
are
a couple.”

“Don’t worry, the media will be taken care of. It’s all arranged.”

Something about his manner brought her head up, sharpened all her senses. “What do you mean, ‘arranged’? If the media doesn’t see me for a few days, the story will die a death.”

“No, it won’t,” Lucas said flatly. “Not this time.”

The door to the limousine popped open. Lucas exited first. Reluctantly Carla followed, stepping into the dusty, steamy heat of midtown Sydney.

The media surged forward. To Carla’s relief they were instantly held at bay by a wall of burly men in dark suits.

Lucas’s hand landed in the small of her back, the heat of his palm burning through her dress, then they were moving. Carla kept her spine stiff, informing Lucas that she wasn’t happy with either the situation or his touch, which seemed entirely too intimate.

The glass doors of the hotel threw a reflection back at her. Lucas stood tall and muscled by her side, his gaze with that grim, icy quality that always sent shivers down her spine. With the other men flanking them in a protective curve, she couldn’t help thinking they looked like a trailer for a gangster flick.

The doors slid open, and the air-conditioned coolness of the hotel foyer flowed around her as they walked briskly to a bank of elevators. A security guard was holding an empty elevator car. Relief eased some of her tension as they stepped inside.

Before the doors could slide closed a well-dressed female reporter, microphone in hand, cameraman in tow, sidestepped security and grabbed the door, preventing it from closing.

“Mr. Atraeus, Ms. Ambrosi, can you confirm the rumor that Sienna Atraeus is pregnant?”

There was a moment of confusion as security reacted, forcing the woman and her cameraman to step back.

Lucas issued a sharp order. The doors snapped closed and she found herself alone with Lucas as the elevator lurched into motion.

Carla’s stomach clenched at the sudden acceleration.

Sienna pregnant
.

“Constantine phoned me earlier to let me know that Sienna was pregnant and that it was possible the story had been leaked.”

A hurt she had stubbornly avoided dealing with hit her like a kick in the chest.

She didn’t begrudge Sienna one moment of her happiness, but it was a fact that she possessed all the things that Carla realized
she
wanted. Not necessarily right now, but sometime in the future, in their natural order, and with Lucas.

But Lucas was showing no real signs of commitment.

Blankly, she watched floor numbers flash by. If she were pregnant she had to assume there would be no marriage, no happy ending, no husband to love and cherish her and the child.

She became aware the elevator had stopped. She sucked in a deep breath, but the oxygen didn’t seem to be getting through. Her head felt heavy and pressurized, her knees wobbly. Not illness, just good old-fashioned panic.

Lucas took her arm, holding her steady. The top of her head bumped his chin, the scrape of his stubbled jaw on the sensitive skin of her forehead sending a reflexive shiver through her. She inhaled, gasping air like a swimmer surfacing, and his warm male scent, laced with the subtle edge of cologne, filled her nostrils.

Lucas said something curt in Medinian. “Damn, you
are
pregnant.”

A split second later the elevator doors slid open.

Fingers automatically tightening around the strap of her handbag, which was in danger of sliding off her shoulder, she stepped out into a broad, carpeted corridor. Lucas’s security, who must have taken another elevator, were waiting.

Lucas’s hand closed around her arm. “Slow down. I’ve got you.”

“That’s part of the problem.”

“Then deal with it. I’m not going away.”

She shot him an icy glare. “I thought leaving was the whole point?”

He traded a cool glance but didn’t reply because they had reached the designated suite. A murmur rippled through the room as they were recognized, but this time, courtesy of the heavy presence of security, there was no undisciplined rush.

Tomas, Constantine’s PA, and Lucas’s mother, Maria Therese, were already seated. Carla took a seat next to Lucas. Seconds later, Zane escorted Lilah into the room.

Her stomach contracted as the questions began. The presence of a mediator limited the topics to the Atraeus takeover of Ambrosi, Ambrosi’s new collection and the re-creation of the historic Ambrosi pearl facility on the Medinian island of Ambrus. However, when Lucas rose to his feet, indicating that the press conference was over, a barrage of personal questions ensued.

Lucas’s fingers laced with hers, the contact intimate and unsettling as he pulled her to her feet. When she discreetly tried to pull free, wary of creating even more unpleasant speculation, he sent her a warning glance, his hold firming.

As they stepped off the podium the media, no longer quietly seated, swirled around them. The clear, husky voice of a well-known television reporter cut through the shouted questions. A microphone was thrust at Lucas’s face.

The reporter flashed him a cool smile. “Can you confirm or deny the reports that you’ve resumed your affair with Carla?”

Lucas pulled her in close against his side as they continued to move at a steady pace. His gaze intersected with hers, filled with cool warning. “No official statement has been issued yet, however I can confirm that Carla Ambrosi and I have been secretly engaged for the past two years.”

The room erupted. Lucas bit out a grim order. The security team, already working to push the press back, closed in, forcing a bubble of privacy and shoving Carla up hard against Lucas. His arm tightened and she found herself lifted off her feet as he literally propelled her from the room.

Shock and a wave of edgy heat zapped through her as she clung to his narrow waist and scrambled to keep her balance. Seconds later they were sealed into the claustrophobic confines of what looked like a service elevator, still surrounded by burly security.

Carla twisted, trying to peel loose from his hold. Lucas easily resisted the attempt, tightening his arms around her. In the process she ended up plastered against his chest. The top button of her dress came unfastened and his hand, which was spread across her rib cage, shifted up so that his thumb and index finger sank into the swell of one breast.

As if a switch had been thrown, she was swamped by memories, some hot and sensuous enough that her breasts tightened and her belly contracted, some hurtful enough that her temper roared to life.

Lucas’s gaze burned over the lush display of cleavage where the bodice of her dress gaped. “Keep still,” he growled.

But she noticed he didn’t move his hand.

She was
not
enjoying it. After the humiliation of the previous evening the last thing she needed was to be clamped against all that hot, hard muscle, making her feel small and wimpy and tragically easy. Unfortunately, her body wasn’t in sync with her mind. She couldn’t control the heat flushing her skin or the automatic tightening of her nipples, and Lucas knew it.

The doors slid open. Before she could protest, they were moving again, this time through the lower bowels of the hotel. A door off a loading bay was shoved wide and they spilled out onto a walled parking area where several vehicles, including a limousine, were parked.

Her fury increased. Here was the back entrance she had needed an hour ago.

Hot, clammy air flowed around her as she clambered into the limousine, clutching her purse. Lucas slid in beside her, his muscled thigh brushing hers. She flinched as if scalded and scooted over another few inches.

His gaze flashed to hers as they accelerated away from the curb. “All right?”

His calm control pushed her over the edge. She reached for her seat belt and jammed the fastenings together. “Secretly
engaged?
”

A week ago an engagement was what she had longed for, what she would have
loved
. “Correct me if I’m wrong, maybe I blacked out at some stage, but I don’t ever remember a proposal of marriage.”

She caught Tiberio’s surprised glance in the rearview mirror.

Lucas’s expression was grim. A faint hum filled the air as a privacy screen slid smoothly into place, locking them into a bubble of silence.

She stared at Lucas, incensed. Thanks to the mad dash through the hotel, her hair had unwound and was now cascading untidily down her back, and she was perspiring. In contrast, Lucas looked cool and completely in control, his suit
GQ
perfect. “An engagement is the logical solution.”

“It’s damage control, and it’s completely unnecessary.” She remembered her gaping bodice and hurriedly refastened the button. “I may not be pregnant.”

Her voice sounded husky and tight, even to herself, and she wondered, a little wildly, if he could tell how much she suddenly wanted to be pregnant.

“Whether you’re pregnant or not is a consideration, but it isn’t an issue, yet.”

Something seized in her chest, her heart. For a crazy moment she considered that he was about to admit that he was in love with her, that he didn’t care if she was pregnant or not, he couldn’t live without her. Then reality dissolved that fantasy. “But what the newspapers are printing is. Do you know how humiliating it is to be offered a forced marriage?”

Irritation tinged with outrage registered in his expression. “No one’s
forcing
you to do anything. Marriage as an option can’t be such a shock. Not after what happened on Medinos. And last night.”

“Well, I guess that puts things in perspective. It’s a
practical
option.”

Her mood was definitely spiraling down. Practicality spelled death for all romance. Cancel the white wedding with champagne and rose petals. Bring on the registry office and matching gray suits.

“I wouldn’t propose marriage if I didn’t
want
to marry you.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Is that the proposal?”

His expression was back to remote. “It isn’t what I had planned, but, yes.”

“Uh-huh.” She drew a deep breath and counted to ten. “The biggest mistake I made was in agreeing to sleep with you.”

Suddenly he was close, one arm draped behind her, his warm male scent laced with the enticing cologne stopping the breath in her throat. “On which occasion?”

She stared rigidly ahead, trying to ignore the heated gleam in his eyes, the subtle cajoling that shouldn’t succeed in getting her on side, but which was slowly undermining her will to resist.

That was the other thing about Lucas, besides the power and influence he wielded in the business world. When he wanted he could be stunningly seducingly attentive. But this time she refused to be swayed by his killer charm. “All of them.”

He wound a strand of her hair around one finger and lightly tugged. She felt his breath fanning her nape. “That’s a lot of mistakes.”

And she had enjoyed every one of them.

She resisted the urge to turn her head, putting her mouth bare inches from his and letting the conversation take them to the destination he was so blatantly angling for—a bone-melting kiss. “I should never have slept with you, period.”

He dropped the strand of hair and sat back, slightly, signaling that he had changed tack. “Meaning that if you had played your cards right,” he said softly, “you could have had marriage in the beginning?”