It was perhaps a perverse bit of both, I had agreed to my thought.
I had more or less been expecting
him to contact me. I knew he would
relish in the opportunity to gloat over the way things had turned out for me.
The news of Nkwe’s death six weeks ago had gone viral around the world. Why
Saul had waited this long to see me, I supposed was all part of his big plan to
make the most of my very public fall.
The villa was cool after the heat
of the summer sun and I released my sticky hair from the back of my collar,
rolling my neck and shoulders to try and ease some of the tension that had
gathered there.
The house keeper, an older French
woman called Celeste, came towards me from the main reception room at the foot
of the grand staircase.
'Excusez-moi, madame, mais vous avez un
visiteur she said and, changing
to English, continued, ‘signor Marcelo
Saul. He said you were expecting him.’
I felt a scuttle like sensation pass across my scalp, like a
tiny panicked feet tripping through my hair. Merci, celeste,’ I said, placing my bag on the nearest surface
with a hand that was almost but not quite steady, ‘but I was led to understand
that he was coming much later’.
The housekeeper raised her hands
in a what- would-I-know? gesture.
He is here now, in there.’ She
pointed to the formal reception room that overlooked the gardens and the port
and sea beyond.
I set my mouth, although my heart
gave another flip-flop-like beat. ‘you
can leave now,’ I said. ‘I will see you in the morning. Bonsoir.’
The housekeeper gave a respectful
nod of her salt-and pepper head and backed away. I drew in a breath, held it
for a beat or two before releasing it in a jagged stream.
The door of the reception room
was closed, but I could sense Saul standing the other side of it. He wouldn’t
be sitting. He wouldn’t be pacing impatiently either. He would be standing.
Waiting.
For me.
*************************************
Putting one high-heeled foot in
front of the other, I moved to the door and opening it, walked into the room.
The first thing I noticed was his
smell: citrus and sharp with an undertone of masculine body heat, it played
about my nostrils, teasing them into an involuntary flare.
The next thing I noticed was his
eyes. They locked on mine within a heartbeat, deep and dark as blackened coal,
inscrutable and yet dangerously sexy. Fringed with thick black lashes beneath
equally dark brows, his gaze was both intelligent and astute and intensely,
unmistakably male. After holding mine for what seemed an eternity, his gaze
then went on to sweep over her lazily, leaving a trail of blistering heat in
its wake.
Flames erupted beneath my skin,
licking along my veins, lighting a fire of need deep and low inside of me that
I had thought had long ago turned into ashes.
He was wearing a dark charcoal
–grey finely pinstriped suit, which showcased the breath of his shoulders and
the taut leanness of his frame. His crisply white shirt and silver embossed tie
emphasized his caramel skin, the shiny cufflinks at his strongly boned wrists a
touch of class that reminded me of how incredibly successful he had become over
the last five years.
‘So we finally meet again,’ Saul
said in that deep, husky male tone that had always made my spine feel watery
and unstable.
‘I am sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral or send you a card
with my condolence.’ He said giving a small
movement of his lips which bellied the sincerity of his statement.
‘Under the circumstances I didn’t think either would be
appropriate.’
I pulled my shoulders back to
counteract his effect on me. ‘I suppose you are only here now to gloat over
your prize,’ I said with an attempt at haughtiness.
His dark eyes glittered
meaningfully. ‘That depends on which
prize you are referring to, ma petite.’
I felt my skin burn as his eyes
ran over me again.
It had always made my heart skip
a beat when he used French endearments in that sexy Italian accent of his.
I wondered if he knew how much it
hurts to see him again. Not just emotionally, but physically. It was like an
ache deep in my bones; they creaked with the memory of him holding me, kissing
me, making my body explode with passion time and time again.
I felt the sharp twinge of
response even now by being in the same room as him. It was like strings being
tugged deep inside of me, reminding me of all the heat and fire of his desire
for me and mine for him.
I has hoped he would have stopped
hating me by now, but I could see the fire of it in his eyes, I could even feel
it in the stance of his six-foot-four frame, the tension in his sculptured
muscles, and he clenching and unclenching of his long fingered hands as if he
didn’t trust himself not to reach out and shake me for how I had betrayed him.
If only he knew the truth, but how could I explain it now, after all this time?
I raised my chin with a bravado that
I was nowhere near feeling. ‘Let’s not
speak in riddles, Saul. Say what you came here to say.’
He stepped closer. It was only
one step, but it halted the breath in my throat. I swallowed, but it only made
the restriction tighter. I had to crane my neck, for even in my heels he
towered over me. His eyes bored into mine, dark and deep pools of simmering
anger.
‘I am here to take possession of this villa,’ he said
‘And to offer you a job for which we both know you are highly
qualified.’
I frowned at him, my stomach
curdling with unease, my skin tightening all over with apprehension.
‘D-doing what?’
His top lip lifted, his eyes
glittering with icy disdain.
‘Serving a rich man’s needs. You are well known for it, are
you not?’
I felt a tremor in my spine as
his hatred smashed over my soundless waves. ‘You
know nothing of my relationship with Nkwe,’ I said trying to keep my voice
steady and controlled.
‘Your meal ticket is dead,’ Saul said bluntly.
‘He’s left you with nothing, not even a roof over your beautiful
black kinky head.’
‘Only because you took it all off him,’ I shot back at him.
‘You did it deliberately, didn’t you? There were hundreds if not
thousands of companies going for the asking but you hunted him down and took
everything off him to get at me.’
He smiled a victor’s smile, but
there was a hint of cruelty about it. ‘I
will give you a minute or two to think it over.’ Saul said.
‘I am sure you will come to see it as the most sensible course
of action at this point in your life,’
‘I don’t need a second to think it over.’ I told him through tight
lips.
‘I don’t want your rubbish job.’
A lighting flash of fury lit his
gaze from behind.
‘Did your lawyer not explain to you how things are?’
‘I would rather live on the street than work in any capacity
for you,’ I said
‘I know what you are trying to do, Saul, but it ain’t gonna
work. I know you think I deliberately betrayed you, but that’s not the way it
was. I knew nothing of Nkwe’s business interests. He didn’t tell me he was
bidding for the same contract as you.'
His mouth was a thin, flat line
of tension.
‘You double-crossing liar.’ He venomously grounded out. ‘You
did everything in your power to ruin me and you damned near got away with it. I
lost nearly everything. Everything, do you hear me?’
I closed my eyes in distress, the
vibration of his anger in the air was like pummeling blows to my flesh. I couldn’t
defend myself against my guilt at what I had advertently done to him by
marrying Mr. Nkwe but given another chance again, I would still have done it,
for Rosaline’s sake.
***************************************
‘Open your eyes,’ Saul growled.
My eyes sprang open with the
nettle-like sting of tears blurring my vision.
‘Don’t do this, Saul.’ I was
close to pleading.
‘The past can’t be changed by manipulating things now.’
His eyes blazed like twin black
bowls of flame as he grasped my chin between two of his fingers, his touch like
a blistering brand on my skin. His eyes drilled into mine, holding mine in a
duel I could never hope to win.
I lowered my lashes, but he
countered it by pushing my chin even higher.
‘I swore I would one day make you pay for what you did to me,
Tara, and that day has come,’ he
said.
‘This villa is mine and everything in it, including you.’
I swallowed convulsively as I tried
to pull out of his hold. ‘No….no!’
His fingers bit into my flesh. ‘Yes and yes, ma belle,’ he said. ‘Do you
not want to hear my terms?’
I fought for control of my
emotions. I bit the inside of my lip, tasting blood and the bitterness of
regret. ‘Go on, then,’ I said, dropping my shoulders slightly.
His finger s relaxed their hold,
his thumb moving in a slow caress over the pillow of my bottom lip until every
nerve-end was tingling. I was mesmerized by his touch. It was so achingly
gentle after flaying words. I felt myself melting, the stiffness going out of
my limbs, my body remembering how it felt to press up against his hard,
protective warmth.
After a moment he seemed to check
himself. His hand dropped from my mouth and his eyes hardened to black coal
again.
‘You will be my mistress,’ my
courtesan he said
"I
will pay you an allowance for as long as we are together. But I would like to
make one thing clear from the outset. Unlike the way you manipulated Fidel Nkwe
into marrying you, I will not be offering the same deal. There will be no
marriage between us. Ever."
I felt my heart contract in pain at the bitterness in his
tone. He had spoken the words like a business plan. But then, what had changed?
Hadn’t he said much the same five years ago? No marriage, no kids, no
commitment. And I had been foolish enough to accept it…for a time.
I drew in a breath that scalded my throat. ‘You seem very convinced I will accept your
offer.’
‘That’s because I know
you, Tara. He said with a sardonic light in his gaze.
You need
money and a lot of it.’
‘I can work.’ Pride pulled
my shoulders back even further. ‘I’ve
been thinking of returning to modeling.’
A determined look hardened his eyes to black ice.
‘One word
from me and there’s not an agency the length and breadth of Europe who would
take you on, bitch.’
I wished I had the courage to call his bluff but after a five
year hiatus in my modeling career at Nkwe’s insistence I didn’t like my chances
of being picked up by my old agency, let alone anyone else.
‘I can find other work,’
I said with a defiant look.
‘Not the
sort of work that will pay you enough to regularly top up your sister’s bank
account.’
I felt my eyes widen. ’You
know about that?’
He gave me an enigmatic look. ‘You know the saying__keep your friends close but your enemies closer. I
am making it my business to find out everything there is to find out about
you, Tara.
I felt as if he had pierced my heart with a long metal skew
driver. I felt the barb of it right through my backbone; it reverberated
throughout my body, making me want to hug my arms around myself to stop the
pulse of pain. But somehow I managed to stand firm, my eyes holding the black
fire of Saul.
‘Please leave Rosaline out of this,’ I said
‘There will be no need for her to go through the trauma of
knowing what you are into, Tara. He said.
***********************************
All of a sudden I wondered how the news would affect my
sister. Rosaline, Two years ago had been diagnosed with cervical cancer and she’s
just been married to her university heartthrob, Mr. Dayo Bamidele, back there
in Nigeria who is a banker and doesn’t really have all the finance to support
her medical bills and I have been the only one they seem to turn to. So
invariably, I carry the burden of sending money home frequently and also
raising funds for her to be flown to India for treatment, seeing that it’s
still in the early stage.
We have been praying for God’s intervention even though deep
inside I feel dirty, too dirty to mention a word to God but returning to Saul
on the term he had outlined was unthinkable
to me. How could I bear his daily quest for revenge? How could I face the
hatred day after day? How could he even think to cajole me into his filthy
proposal using my sister as bait?
Well that don’t matter as long as keeping a loved alive is
concerned, or does it???
I looked up at him again, shocked at how cold and ruthlessly
calculating he had become. He certainly been no angel in the past__yes, he had
been strong willed and proud and had arrogantly insisted on his own way but he
had never been this cruel.
I twisted my hands, unconsciously fingering the amethyst ring
on my finger, a peace offering Nkwe had given me during the last months of his
illness.
‘I need
time to think about this…’
Saul’s eyes flashed like fast drawn daggers. ‘You had six whole weeks to do that.’
“you don’t
expect me to accept this outrageous offer of yours without some careful consideration,
do you?’ I blurted out.
His mouth curled upward in a sneer. ‘Well, it didn’t take you too long to consider moving on with another
man after you walked out on me. Within a month you were living with Fidel Nkwe
as his wife.’
It’s so unfair, why couldn’t he leave the past alone? To come
to me now, after all this time, was going to achieve nothing but more heartache
for me. It had broken my heart to walk away from Saul the first time, it had
taken every bit of will power and self respect to do so. Living as his
courtesan had been so bittersweet and in the end I had chose the bitter over
sweet. He had flatly refused to promise me anything but a short term affair. The
concept of marriage was anathema to him; now it seemed more so than ever.
Saul took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it over to
me.
‘ I had drawn up a legal
document for you to sign,’ he said.
‘It
states how much money I am willing to pay you to cohabit with me. By signing it
you will be unable to claim support when our relationship is terminated.’
‘A
prenuptial?’ I asked, frowning as my fingers took the envelope
from him.
‘Without the nuptials,’
he said, his eyes diamond-hard.
‘No
marriage, no children.’
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