A Tangled Affair

“I’m fine, just a little rushed and I didn’t expect the media ambush at the gates.” Carla forced a bright smile. “You know me. I do thrive on publicity, but the reporters were like a pack of wolves.”

Constantine, tall and imposing, greeted her with a brief hug, the gesture conveying her new status as a soon-to-be member of Medinos’s most wealthy, powerful family. He frowned as he released her. “Security should have kept them at bay.”

His expression was remote, his light gray gaze controlled, belying the primitive fact that he had used financial coercion and had even gone so far as kidnapping Sienna to get his former fiancée back.

“The security was good.” Carla hugged her mother, fighting the ridiculous urge to cling like a child. If she did that she would cry, and she refused to cry in front of Lucas.

A waiter offered champagne. As she lifted the flute from the tray her gaze clashed with Lucas’s. Her fingers tightened reflexively on the delicate stem. The message in his dark eyes was clear.

Don’t talk. Don’t make trouble.

She took a long swallow of the champagne. “Unfortunately, the line of questioning the press took was disconcerting. Although I’m sure that when Lucas arrived with Lilah any misconceptions were cleared up.”

Sienna’s expression clouded. “Don’t tell me they’re trying to resurrect that old story about you and Lucas?”

Carla controlled her wince reflex at the use of the word resurrect. “I guess it’s predictable that now that you and Constantine have your happy ending, the media are looking to generate something out of nothing.”

Sienna lifted a brow. “So, do they need a medic down at the gates?”

“Not this time.” Lucas frowned as Carla took another long swallow of champagne. “Don’t forget I was the original target two years ago, not the media.”

And suddenly the past was alive between them, vibrating with hurtful accusations and misunderstandings she thought they had dealt with long ago. The first night of unplanned and irresistible passion they’d shared, followed by the revelation of the financial deal her father had leveraged on the basis of Sienna’s engagement to Constantine. Lucas’s accusation that Carla was more interested in publicity and her career than she had been in him.

Carla forced herself to loosen her grip on the stem of her glass. “But then the media are so very fascinated by your private life, aren’t they?”

A muscle pulsed along the side of his jaw. “Only when someone decides to feed them information.”

The flat statement, correct as it was, stung. Two years ago, hurt by his comments, she had reacted by publicly stating that she had absolutely no interest in being pursued by Lucas. The story had sparked weeks of uncomfortable conjecture for them both.

Sienna left them to greet more arrivals. Her anger under control, Carla examined the elegant proportions of the reception room, the exquisite marble floors and rich, Italianate decor. “And does that thought keep you awake at night?”

Lucas’s gaze flared at her deliberate reference to the restless passion for her that he had once claimed kept him awake at nights. “I’m well used to dealing with the media.”

“A shame there isn’t a story. It could have benefited Ambrosi’s upcoming product launch.” She forced a brilliant smile. “You know what they say, any publicity is good publicity. Although in this case, I’m sure the story wouldn’t be worth the effort, especially when it would involve dragging my private life through the mud.”

Lucas’s expression shuttered, the fire abruptly gone. “Then I suggest you sleep easy. I don’t kiss and tell.”

The sense of disorientation she had felt the past few minutes evaporated in a rush of anger. “Or commit to relationships.”

“You were the one who set the ground rules.”

Suddenly Lucas seemed a lot closer. “You know I had no other option.”

His expression was grim. “The truth is always an option.”

Her chin jerked up. “I was protecting Sienna and my family. What was I supposed to do? Turn up with you at Mom and Dad’s house for Sunday dinner and admit that I was—”

“Sleeping with me?”

The soft register of his voice made her heart pound. Every nerve in her body jangled at his closeness, the knowledge that he was just as aware of her as she was of him. “I was about to say dating an Atraeus.”

Sienna returned from her hostess duties to step neatly between them. “Time out, children.”

Lucas lifted a brow, his mouth quirking in the wry half smile that regularly made women go weak at the knees. “My apologies.”

As Constantine joined them, Lucas drew Lilah into the circle. “I know I don’t need to introduce Lilah.”

There was a moment of polite acknowledgment and brief handshakes as Lilah was accepted unconditionally into the Atraeus fold. The process of meeting Maria Therese was more formal and underlined a salient and well-publicized fact. Atraeus men didn’t take their women home to meet their families on a casual basis. To her best knowledge, until now, Lucas had never taken a girlfriend home to meet his mother.

Lucas’s girlfriend.

Lilah was smiling, her expression contained but lit with an unmistakable glow.

A second salient fact made Carla stiffen. A few months ago, while stuck overnight together at a sales expo in Europe, she and Lilah had discussed the subject of relationships. At age twenty-nine, despite possessing the kind of sensual dark-haired, white-skinned beauty that riveted male attention, Lilah was determinedly single.

She had told Carla a little of her background, which included a single mother, a solo grandmother and ongoing financial hardship. Born illegitimate, Lilah had early on given herself a rule. No sex before marriage. There was no way she was going to be left holding a baby.

While Carla had stressed about finding Mr. Right, Lilah was calmly focused on marrying him, her approach methodical and systematic. She had moved on a step from Carla’s idea of a spreadsheet and had developed a list of qualifying attributes as precise and unwavering as an employment contract. Also, unlike Carla, Lilah had saved herself for marriage. She was that twenty-first century paragon: a virgin.

The simple fact that she was on Medinos with Lucas, thousands of miles from her Sydney apartment and rigorous work schedule, spoke volumes.

Lilah did not date. Carla knew that she occasionally accompanied a gay neighbor to his professional dinners and had him escort her to charity functions she supported. But their relationship was purely friendship, which suited them both. That was all.

Carla took another gulp of champagne. Her stomach clenched because the situation was suddenly blindingly obvious.

Lilah was dating Lucas because she had chosen him. He was her intended husband.

Anger churned in Carla’s stomach and stiffened her spine. She and Lucas had conducted their relationship based on a set of rules that was the complete opposite of everything that Lilah was holding out for: no strings, strictly casual and, because of the family feud, in secrecy.

An enticing, convenient arrangement for a man who clearly had never had any intention of offering her marriage.

Waiters served more chilled champagne and trays of tiny, exquisite canapés. Carla forced herself to eat a tiny pastry case filled with a delicate seafood mousse. She continued to sip her way through the champagne, which loosened the tightness of her throat but couldn’t wash away the deepening sense of hurt.

Lilah Cole was beautiful, elegant and likable, but nothing could change the fact that Lilah’s easy acceptance into the Atraeus fold should have been her moment.

The party swelled as more family and friends arrived. Abandoning her champagne flute on a nearby sideboard, Carla joined the movement out onto a large stone balcony overlooking the sea.

Feeling awkward and isolated amidst the crowd, she threaded her way through the revelers to the parapet and stared out at the expansive view. The breeze gusted, laced with the scent of the sea, sending coils of hair across her cheeks and teasing at the flimsy silk of her dress, briefly exposing more leg than she had planned.

Lucas’s gaze burned over her, filled with censure, not the desire that had sizzled between them for the past two years.

Cheeks burning, she snapped her dress back into place, her mood plummeting further as Lilah joined Lucas. Despite the breeze, Lilah’s hair was neat and perfect, her dress subtly sensual with a classic pureness of line that suddenly made Carla feel cheap and brassy, all sex and dazzle against Lilah’s demure elegance. Her cheeks grew hotter as she considered what she was wearing under the red silk. Again, nothing with any degree of subtlety. Every flimsy stitch was designed to entice.

She had taken a crazy risk in dressing so flamboyantly, practically begging for the continuation of their relationship. After the distance of the past two months she should have had more sense than to wear her heart on her sleeve. Jerking her gaze away, she tried to concentrate on the moon sliding up over the horizon, the churning floodlit water below the castello.

A cool gust of wind sent more hair whipping around her cheeks. Temporarily blinded, she snatched at her billowing hemline. Strong fingers gripped her elbow, steadying her. Heart-stoppingly familiar dark eyes clashed with hers. Not Lucas, Zane Atraeus.

“Steady. I’ve got you. Come over here, out of the wind before we lose you over the side.”

Zane’s voice was deep, mild and low-key, more American than Medinian, thanks to his Californian mother and upbringing. With his checkered, illegitimate past and lady-killer reputation, Zane was, of the three brothers, definitely the most approachable and she wondered a little desperately why she hadn’t been able to fall for him instead of Lucas. “Thanks for the rescue.”

He sent her an enigmatic look. “Damsels in distress are always my business.”

The warmth in her cheeks flared a little brighter. The suspicion that Zane wasn’t just talking about the wind, that he knew about her affair with Lucas, coalesced into certainty.

He positioned her in the lee of a stone wall festooned with ivy. “Can I get you a drink?”

A reckless impulse seized Carla as she glanced across at Lucas. “Why not?”

With his arm draped casually across the stone parapet behind Lilah, his stance was male and protective, openly claiming Lilah as his, although he wasn’t touching her in any way.

Unbidden, a small kernel of hope flared to life at that small, polite distance. Ten minutes ago, Carla had been certain they were an established couple; that to be here, at a family wedding, Lucas would have had to have slept with Lilah. Now she was abruptly certain they had not yet progressed to the bedroom. There was a definite air of restraint underpinning the glow on Lilah’s face, and despite his possessive stance, Lucas was preserving a definite distance.

A waiter swung by. Zane handed her a flute of champagne. “Do you think they’ve slept together?”

Carla’s hand jerked at the question. Champagne splashed over her fingers. She dragged her gaze from the clean line of Lucas’s profile and glanced at Zane. His expression was oddly grim, his jaw set. “I don’t know why you’re asking me that question.”

Zane, who hadn’t bothered with champagne, gave her a steady look, and humiliation curled through her. He knew.

Carla wondered a little wildly how he had found out and if everyone on the balcony knew that she was Lucas’s ditched ex.

Zane’s expression was dismissive. “Don’t worry, it was a lucky guess.”

Relief flooded her as she swallowed a mouthful of champagne. A few seconds later her head began to spin and she resolved not to drink any more.

Zane’s attention was no longer on her; it was riveted on Lilah and realization hit. She wasn’t the only one struggling here. “You want Lilah.”

The grim anger she had glimpsed winked out of existence. “If I was in the market for marriage, maybe.”

“Which, I take it, you’re not.”

Zane’s dark gaze zeroed in on hers, but Carla realized he still barely logged her presence. “No. Are you interested in art?”

Carla blinked at the sudden change of subject. “Yes.”

“If you want out of this wind, I’ll be happy to show you the rogue’s gallery.”

She had glimpsed the broad gallery that housed the Atraeus family portraits, some painted by acknowledged masters, but hadn’t had time to view them. “I would love to take a closer look at the family portraits.”

Anything to get her off the balcony. “Just do me one favor. Put your arm around my waist.”

“And make it look good?”

Carla’s chin jerked up a fraction. “If you don’t mind.”

The unflattering lack of reaction to her suggestion should have rubbed salt into the wound, but Carla was beyond caring. She was dying by inches but she was determined not to be any more tragic than she had to be.

Lucas’s gaze burned over her as she handed her drink to a waiter then allowed Zane’s arm to settle around her waist. As they strolled past Lucas, she was forcibly struck by the notion that he was jealous.

Confusion rocked her. She hadn’t consciously set out to make Lucas jealous; her main concern from the moment she had realized that Lucas and Lilah were together had been self-preservation. Lucas being jealous made no sense unless he still wanted her, and how could that be when he had already chosen another woman?

Carla was relieved when Zane dropped his arm the second they were out of sight of the balcony. After a short walk through flagged corridors, they entered the gallery. Along one wall, arched windows provided spectacular views of the moonlit sea. The opposite wall was softly lit and lined with exquisite paintings.

The tingling sense of alarm, as if at some level she was aware of Lucas’s displeasure, continued as they strolled past rank after rank of gorgeous rich oils. Most had been painted pre-1900s, before the once wealthy and noble Atraeus family had fallen on hard times. Lucas’s grandfather, after discovering an obscenely rich gold mine, had since purchased most of the paintings back from private collections and museums.

The men were clearly of the Atraeus bloodline, with strong jaws and aquiline profiles. The women, almost without exception, looked like Botticelli angels: beautiful, demure, virginal.

Zane paused beside a vibrant painting of an Atraeus ancestor who looked more like a pirate than a noble lord. His lady was a serene, quiet dove with a steely glint in her eye. With her long, slanting eyes and delicate bones, the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Lilah. “As you can see it’s a mixture of sinners and saints. It seemed that the more dissolute and marauding the Atraeus male, the more powerful his desire for a saint.”

Carla heard the measured tread of footsteps. Her heart sped up because she was almost sure it was Lucas. “And is that what Atraeus men are searching for today?”

Zane shrugged. “I can’t speak for my brothers. I’m not your typical Atraeus male.”

Her jaw tightened. “But the idea of a pure, untouched bride still has a certain appeal.”

“Maybe.” He sent her a flashing grin that made him look startlingly like the Atraeus pirate in the painting. “Although, I’m always willing to be convinced that a sinner is the way to go.”

“Because that generally means no commitment, right?”

Zane’s dark brows jerked together. “How did we get on to commitment?”

Carla registered the abrupt silence as if whoever had just entered the gallery had seen them and stopped.

Her heart slammed in her chest as she caught Lucas’s reflection in one of the windows. On impulse, she stepped close to Zane and tilted her head back, the move flirtatious and openly provocative. She was playing with fire, because Zane had a reputation that scorched.

Lucas would be furious with her. If he was jealous, her behavior would probably kill any feelings he had left for her, but she was beyond caring. He had hurt her too badly for her to pull back now. “If that’s an invitation, the answer is yes.”

Zane’s gaze registered unflattering surprise.

Minor detail, because Lucas was now walking toward them. Gritting her teeth, she wound her finger in Zane’s tie, applying just enough pressure that his head lowered until his mouth was mere inches from hers.

His gaze was disarmingly neutral. “I know what you’re up to.”

“You could at least be tempted.”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder.”

“Damn, you’re type A. No wonder he went for Lilah.”

Carla’s fingers tightened on his tie. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me. And that’s because I’m a control freak myself.”

“I am not a control freak.”

He unwound her fingers from his tie. “Whatever you say.”

Cut adrift by Zane’s calm patience, Carla had no choice but to step back and in so doing almost caromed into Lucas.

She flinched at the fiery trail of his gaze over the shadow of her cleavage, her mouth, the impression of heat and desire. If Zane hadn’t been there she was almost certain he would have pulled her close and kissed her.

Lucas’s expression was shuttered. “What are you up to?”

Carla didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of her voice. “I’m not up to anything. Zane was showing me the paintings.”

“Careful,” Zane intervened, his gaze on Lucas. “Or I might think you have a personal interest in Carla, and that couldn’t possibly be, since you’re dating the lovely Lilah.”

A sharp pang went through Carla at the tension vibrating between the brothers, shifting undercurrents she didn’t understand.

Spine rigid, she kept her gaze firmly on Zane’s jaw. She hadn’t liked behaving like that, but at least she had proved that Lucas did still want her. Although the knowledge was a bitter pill, because his reaction repeated a pattern that was depressingly familiar. In establishing a stress-free liaison with him based on her rules, she had somehow negotiated herself out of the very things she needed most: love, companionship and commitment.

Lucas had wanted her for two years, but that was all. The relationship had struggled to progress out of the bedroom. Even when she had finally gotten him to Thailand for a whole four-day minibreak, the longest period of time they had ever spent together, the plan had crashed and burned because she had gotten sick.

She wondered in what way she was lacking that Lucas didn’t want a full relationship with her? That instead of allowing them to grow closer, he had kept her at an emotional arm’s length and gone to Lilah for the very things that Carla needed from him.

She glanced apologetically at Zane in an effort to defuse the tension. “It’s okay, Lucas and I are old news. If there was anything more we would be together now.”

“Whereas marriage is Lilah’s focus,” Zane said softly.

Lucas frowned. “Back off, Zane.”

Confusion gripped Carla along with another renegade glimmer of hope at Lucas’s reaction. She was tired of thinking about everything that had gone wrong, but despite that, her mind grabbed on to the notion that maybe all he was doing was dating Lilah on a casual basis. Just because Lilah wanted marriage didn’t necessarily mean she would get what she wanted.

Grimly, she forced herself to study the Atraeus bride in the painting again. It was the perfect reality check.

Her pale, demure gown was the epitome of all things virginal and pure. Nothing like Carla’s flaming red silk dress, with its enticing glimpse of cleavage and leg. The serene eighteenth-century bride was no doubt every man’s secret dream. A perfect wife, without a flirty bone in her body. Or a stress condition.

Lucas’s gaze sliced back to Carla. “I’ll take you back to the party. Dinner will be served in about fifteen minutes.”

He was jealous.

The thought reverberated through her, but for the first time in two years what Lucas wanted wasn’t a priority. Her rules had just changed. From now on it was commitment or nothing.

Her chin firmed. “No. I have an escort. Zane will take me back to the party.”

For a long, tension-filled moment Carla thought Lucas would argue, but then the demanding, possessive gleam was replaced by a familiar control. He nodded curtly then sent Zane a long, cold look that conveyed a hands-off message that left Carla feeling doubly confused. Lucas didn’t want her, but neither did he want Zane anywhere near her.

And if Lucas no longer wanted her, if they really were finished, why had he bothered to search her out?

Three

Lucas Atraeus strode into his private quarters and snapped the door closed behind him. Opening a set of French doors, he stepped out onto his balcony. The wind buffeted the weathered stone parapet and whipped night-dark hair around the obdurate line of his jaw. He tried to focus on the steady roar of the waves pounding the cliff face beneath and the stream of damp, salty air, while he waited for the self-destructive desire to reclaim Carla to dissolve.

The vibration of his cell phone drew him back inside. Sliding the phone out of his pocket, he checked the screen. Lilah. No doubt wondering where he was.

Jaw clenched, he allowed the call to go through to his voice mail. He couldn’t stomach talking to Lilah right at that moment with his emotions still raw and his thoughts on another woman. Besides, with a relationship based on a few phone calls and a couple of conversations, most of them purely work based, they literally had nothing to say to each other.

The call terminated. Lucas found himself staring at a newspaper he had tossed down on the coffee table, the one he had read on the night flight from New York to Medinos. The paper was open at the society pages and a grainy shot of Carla in her capacity as the “face” of Ambrosi Pearls, twined intimately close with a rival millionaire businessman.

Picking up the newspaper, he reread the caption that hinted at a hot affair.

He had been away for two months but by all accounts she had not missed him.

Tossing the newspaper down on the coffee table, he strode back out onto the balcony. Before he could stop himself, he had punched in her number on his phone.

Calling her now made no kind of sense.

He held the sleek phone pressed to his ear and forced himself to remember the one overriding reason he should never have touched Carla Ambrosi.

Grimly, he noted that the hit of old grief and sharp-enough-to-taste guilt still wasn’t powerful enough to bury the impulse to involve himself even more deeply in yet another fatal attraction.

When he had met Carla, somehow he had stepped away from the rigid discipline he had instilled in himself after Sophie’s death.

The car accident hadn’t been his fault, but he was still haunted by the argument that had instigated Sophie’s headlong dash in her sports car after he had found out that she had aborted his child.

Sophie had been beautiful, headstrong and adept at winding him around her little finger. He should have stopped her, taken the car keys. He should have controlled the situation. It had been his responsibility to protect her, and he had failed.

They should never have been together in the first place.

They had been all wrong for each other. He had been disciplined, work focused and family orientated. Sophie had skimmed along the surface of life, thriving on bright lights, parties and media attention. Even the manner in which Sophie had died had garnered publicity and had been perceived in certain quarters as glamorous.

The ring tone continued. His fingers tightened on the cell. Carla had her phone with her; she should have picked up by now.

Unless she was otherwise occupied. With Zane.

His stomach clenched at the image of Carla, mouthwateringly gorgeous in red, her fingers twined in Zane’s tie, poised for a kiss he had interrupted.