An Indecent Proposition, page 7
It was the words of a man moving deep into a woman he wanted.
She thought he would glide into her, so wet and ready was she, but Zander in full arousal did not make for soft landings, he slammed into soft tissue and stretched her completely. It was more compulsive than tender, a basic rhythm that was exquisite, and he took her breath away and did not let her catch it. When she wanted more, there was more; when she thought there could not be more, she was again proven wrong. He was in her body, in her head and in her heart as he gave everything and simultaneously demanded everything from her. She had never known hands roam so hungrily, or a tongue and a breath in her ear, or the sheen of his back beneath her fingers. There were too many sensations for Charlotte to focus on, so she did not try, just moved with him and beyond herself, moved to a place that was waiting for them.
He moaned and it made her feel dizzy; he moved faster and she did too, and there was a hush then, a moment of stillness, no work needed now, just a wait for arrival, and it was now that he glided, and flew her away. She felt every beat and responded with her own; she heard every breath and tasted his moan, and as their bodies quieted she went back in her head, closed her eyes and attempted to reel in her heart.
It was too soon to love him.
They did not sleep for ages; they tried not to sleep. Zander could see the red numbers on the clock that ticked beside them, their hours left too few, not that she knew it. And here in his bed, with a woman beside him, for once he did not want to roll over, did not want to escape to sleep, or order from the bar, or envision tomorrow. For the first time he was comfortable in a place.
‘What is it like?’ She lay there and tried to fathom it, to comprehend how it must have been for him, and though she had said not to discuss things, it was way too late for that now. ‘What is it like knowing that you have a twin and never having seen him?’
‘I have seen him,’ Zander said, for he was not sure if it was a memory or if it was the one photo he had found, but he had seen his brother, they had once been together. ‘When we were babies …’ He did not want to talk about it, did not need to explain it. He turned to his side and closed his eyes, but she turned too, her hand loose on his waist, her breath on his back. He held his breath for if he did not he would speak, would ask her to leave, for suddenly she felt too close.
‘I mean …’ Still she would not leave it, did not heed the silent warning to halt. ‘What was it like, growing up without him? What has it been like, knowing you have an identical twin?’
And maybe there was weakness, for already it was tomorrow, already the day was here. Maybe it was sex that made him soften, or maybe it was her voice that sounded more tender than probing, or her hand that still stayed on his waist, because he did not tell her to be silent, did not respond in the way that he usually would have; instead, he lay in the silence as she patiently awaited his response and he thought about it.
He actually thought about it and how best to describe it.
‘You look in the mirror each morning?’ He was grateful that she did not answer with the obvious ‘Yes’, that she let him be for another moment with his thoughts. ‘Imagine looking and there is no reflection, knowing there is a you that you cannot see.’
And he could explain it no better, and he did not try to.
There was no point anyway.
Tomorrow, when she knew him, she might not want him in her life.
CHAPTER SIX
WAKING up in a strange bed, a strange country, should have had Charlotte in a complete panic, but she did not feel as if it was a stranger who lay beside her.
She watched him sleep and admired his beauty, her body lazy but still in arousal from the feel of his solid weight beside her through the night. Now, with the sun slowly waking Xanos, she got to watch him in colour. His skin, pale in the predawn light, glowed a smooth olive in the sun, and she gazed at the full, sensuous mouth that had explored her so intimately, had to resist moving over to kiss those lips; instead, she lay on her side and admired, saw the shadows to his stomach lift and reveal an ebony snake of hair. How she wanted to move that sheet, to see all of him.
He must have felt her eyes on him because he woke to find her watching, woke to the day he had long been awaiting, but he did not want to get out of bed. He looked at Charlotte and he wanted to stay, he wanted to pull her towards him, to bury his head in her hair, to make love in the morning, except that would be too cruel, even by his standards, for he knew what was about to come.
He did not move so she did, slid over the bed and kissed him because she still trusted in last night, in all they had found. Even as his mouth resisted, she did not question why. Still she kissed him. And he let her. She kissed him and he found himself kissing her back till there was a reluctant return, a recall to last night, to remember the intimacy they had shared that had gone way beyond sex, and Zander recoiled from her as he remembered just how close he had come to confiding in her. He did what he always did in the morning—instead of lingering, he climbed out of bed.
‘I have to get ready.’
She heard and felt his dismissal, despite his appropriate words, for the clock was already nearing seven.
‘So do I.’ She pulled on her dress, readied herself for the shameful lift ride in last night’s clothes. She could face it if he said farewell with a smile or a kiss that told her there was still tonight.
Neither was forthcoming.
‘Good luck for today.’
‘I never rely on luck’ came his curt response.
‘When I see you, when I speak with Nico—’
‘We never met,’ Zander said, and Charlotte nodded, for it did make things easier with her boss.
He was nervous about meeting Nico, about seeing his twin after all these years, Charlotte told herself as she headed to her room, and she was nervous too as she dressed in a smart navy suit and because of the bruise wore her hair down. Then she headed to the meeting rooms she had booked. She did a slight double-take when Nico walked in, a crisper, more clean-cut version of the man she had been in bed with last night, and, yes, she felt guilt, not for the act but towards her boss.
‘I’m sorry to hear about your father,’ she offered. ‘How is he?’
‘Extremely unwell,’ Nico responded. ‘After this meeting, I must go directly to the hospital—I trust that has been arranged?’
‘Of course,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’ve cancelled the rest of your week. Do you need me to clear things further?’
‘Not at this stage.’ There was a pause, a long one, and she knew she must fill it, must do the right thing by Nico, for after all he was her boss. Unable to look him in the face properly, she wished this morning was over, that the surprise was revealed and that Nico knew, and then she could see where that left her and Zander. ‘Nico …’ God, how much to tell him? ‘About this meeting. I know how important getting this land is to you. The thing is—’
‘In the scheme of things it is not that important,’ Nico interrupted. ‘I have not come away from my dying father about a piece of land. There’s something I need to tell you.’ Nico, as always, was direct. ‘I was going to explain things to you, except my father got ill. Still, I should have warned you, for had you bumped into him you would have got a shock …’ She froze as Nico spoke on. ‘This meeting today could get very personal. I just want to prepare you. You see, when I found out I had been adopted, I also found out that I had a twin. Zander. The businessman you have been dealing with is actually Alexandros Kargas …’
Her face flew to Nico’s, her mind torn in two as if it were paper as she tried not to reveal that she knew already, tried to fathom how Nico did.
‘When did you find out?’
‘Just recently. I had no idea that the landowner was him, of course, but now that I do, it makes sense.’ Nico was grim. ‘I think he is hoping to shock me.’
‘To surprise you?’ Charlotte forced a smile, but it died when Nico shook his head.
‘Yes, though I don’t think he’s planning a pleasant one. Fortunately I am one step ahead of him. There is a lot of history, Charlotte, none of it relevant to you. Suffice it to say the difficulties in reaching him these past weeks, well, it has nothing to do with a piece of land—he has been baiting me.’
‘Baiting you?’
But, of course, Nico did not have to explain things to her. ‘I just want you to be prepared that there may be a confrontation this morning, that there will be raised voices. On no account are you to come in or panic and call for assistance. I am expecting trouble and I am prepared for it.’ He headed into the meeting room and she was left with racing thoughts. Taking a seat at the desk outside, she placed her head in her hands, tried to work out from the last couple of days if what Nico was saying was true. She went over and over the conversations between Zander and her and wondered if he had been quizzing her, but all she had witnessed had been kindness. Surely Nico had got things wrong?
Paulo too?
They were wrong, she was sure of it. And when Zander walked towards the meeting room, Charlotte turned worried eyes to him, for had she not been in bed with him last night, had she not been held by him, had she not witnessed his tenderness first hand? But, then, every presumption Nico had uttered rang true, for the only word that could describe Zander’s appearance this morning was savage. Charlotte saw him in a suit for the first time, exquisitely tailored in the darkest of greys. He might have been dressed for a funeral, his tie a slate grey and that jet hair slicked back; he still had not shaved and somehow it spelt insolence. Her eyes begged for reassurance when they met his, and she willed from him a brief smile, a wink, some private reference to last night, to the knowledge that it would all be okay, but instead her eyes met those of a stranger.
‘Is he in?’
It was all he asked, all he wanted from her, and when she nodded he swept past her desk, gave one sharp knock on the door, and did not wait for Nico to respond. He opened the door and walked straight in, and all Charlotte glimpsed before the door closed was Nico standing straight to meet his twin for the first time.
Thank God Nico had warned her as to how she should react, for though there were no really raised voices, there was a brutality to the words that were muffled by the walls. Then there was a scrape of furniture that, had she not been told to ignore it, would have had Charlotte ringing her boss to ensure that all was okay.
And she waited for it to be so.
She waited for it to be the surprise reunion Zander had assured that it would be, except it appeared the meeting was to go down as Nico had feared.
The door opened. Zander went to march out and then harsh words were hurled from Nico, and there were no walls or door now to muffle his anger, no barrier to deflect the strength behind his words.
‘I will not leave Xanos.’ She had never heard her boss so angry. ‘I will stay here as long as I choose. There is still much to find out.’
‘I’ve told you all you need to know.’ She saw Zander turn, his back so taut she saw the stretch of the fabric that struggled to contain muscles that had rippled beneath her fingers last night. She wanted to stop him, wanted to rush over, but she knew it was not her place, knew even then that she had been deceived, especially as Zander spoke on. ‘There will never be a relationship. I do not have a brother, or a mother. You left me with him and now you return—’
‘As if I had a choice!’ Nico’s shout matched Zander’s but his hate did not, for Zander was so full of loathing Charlotte could almost taste it.
‘You lived your rich, pampered life away from Xanos. Now you return like some grandiose prodigal son … But you are not wanted,’ Zander said. ‘You do not belong here. I will build that nightclub, so enjoy the noise of machinery, for it will be nothing compared to the music that will pound in your home night after night …’
‘For what purpose?’ Nico demanded.
‘Misery.’ Zander’s answer was simple. ‘Touch my things, encroach on my life and I will make it my business to ensure the rest of yours is miserable.’
But Nico still had questions.
‘What do you know—’ so badly he need closure ‘—about our mother? Do you know if she lives?’
‘She is dead to me,’ Zander said. ‘She was dead to me the day she chose you. Go find her if you must, show her the son she saved.’
‘She did not save me,’ Nico shouted at his brother. ‘She sold me!’
‘No!’ Zander’s roar was absolute, for only Zander had lived his life, only Zander knew the hell of being the one left behind—and he’d have rather have been sold to the devil than be left a single day with that man who bore the title of father. ‘She saved you—so bask in it, brother.’ He sneered the word. ‘But get the hell away from Xanos, and keep the hell away from me.’
She sat, more at stake than her boss must ever realise, and as Zander swept out she had to resist leaping to her feet. She wanted to demand what had gone wrong with his plans, why Nico was so furious, or was it Zander?
For Zander it should now be over. He had said all he had come to say, yet it did not sate his anger. Still there was a burn in his guts, a need for more. Adrenaline still flooded his muscles, had his heart pounding in his throat with such force he wanted to rip off his tie and tear at his shirt. He was furious that his twin had known, that Nico had stood and faced him as he’d walked in rather than recoil in shock. Insulted by Nico’s outstretched hand, Zander had declined it; instead, he had told him exactly his feelings—that there would be no contact, that forgiveness would never be on the table. That his mother had chosen the golden one, had given Nico the chance of a privileged life and left Zander to survive for himself.
And he had.
Oh, he had.
He did not need anyone.
He had made it alone and would go on doing so.
Would destroy Nico if he tried to get close.
And, now that was over, all he wanted was to get out.
Away from the man who looked like him, away from the reflection that was now in his mirror.
Away from the son that his mother had chosen.
And then, as he strode out, when he would have preferred to hit, or to run, he saw her sitting there, saw the confusion in her eyes and the tremble to the mouth that last night had been his. And he did not want her for Nico, he wanted her for himself.
‘Get your things.’ He snapped his fingers to tell her his haste. He wanted her away, he wanted her upstairs, he wanted her on his bed, and he would forget what he had just seen, forget the brother that never would be, he would lose himself in her. But she just sat there.
‘Get your things!’ Zander said. ‘You come with me.’
He did not understand her hesitation. He was offering her his world, offering more of what they had had last night. ‘You work for me now,’ he clarified, except Nico was walking out of his office and still Charlotte sat there.
‘Charlotte has nothing to do with this,’ Nico said.
‘Except that she comes now with me,’ Zander retorted, without looking at the man he loathed. ‘Come now.’ He gave her one more chance when he gave others none but, pale, she still sat there, her eyes moving from his to Nico and then back to him.
‘I work for Nico.’ Her voice was as pale as her face.
‘My staff are loyal to me,’ came his brother’s voice, and Zander could not believe that she would choose him after the night they had shared. His mind was so black with loathing, so angry having lived a life of betrayal, that there was no chance of straight thinking.
‘Really?’ Zander shot back. ‘Well, that’s not how it seemed when her legs were wrapped around me last night.’ It all came out in one caustic response. Zander watched her quail as the words spewed out, but really the words were not aimed at provoking her and he looked at Nico to relish his response. He wanted his brother to thump him; he wanted a fist because it was pain he could see, a bruise he could feel, hurt that could be measured. He wanted to fight but his brother just stood there, and, worse, Charlotte apologised for the one good thing on Xanos that had ever taken place.
‘I’m sorry, Nico …’ She could not have felt more betrayed, more humiliated, more ashamed—could so clearly see now how she had been used. She could not stand to look at Zander, so she looked at her boss instead. He was the man she should have been loyal to, the man who paid her wages. ‘I’m so sorry, Nico.’
‘No problem.’ Nico was tough, and could be just as cutting as his brother, though the barb in his response, she knew, was not aimed at her. ‘We’re all allowed a mistake—yours just happened to be my brother.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
SHE lay curled up and wounded on the bed, too mortified to go out, dreading Nico’s wrath, but far more than that she was beyond hurt by what Zander had done.
The contempt, the disregard, how he had used her.
A knock at the door a short while later did not see Charlotte moving. She did not care who it might be: Nico to fire her or Zander, for what?
An apology wasn’t going to fix this.
Instead, when the knock came again, she closed her eyes at the sound of a woman’s voice.
‘Charlotte, it’s me—Constantine.’
She could not be rude to Nico’s wife. She had met her a few times and Constantine had always been nice. Beyond ashamed, Charlotte opened the door, and burst into tears when the other woman wrapped her arms around her.
‘Nico told me what happened.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Charlotte wept. ‘I’m so ashamed …’
‘For what?’
‘For what I did.’ Everything that had been so beautiful had been turned around and it all seemed sullied and sordid now. ‘I thought … I never thought he hated Nico. It was not about being disloyal.’
