Miranda Lee -The Blackmailed Bridegroom Read online

  This time Antonio had no longer been in residence, thanks to a promotion and a new apartment of his own somewhere.

  Perversely, Paige had been disappointed. Had she become addicted to the emotional turmoil the sight of her unrequited love caused?

  Possibly, because after leaving home again, to live with two male flatmates who had been closet gays and had caused her no trouble at all, she'd still deliberately returned at Christmas-and every Christmas after that- for no other reason than that was the season her father entertained a lot, with dinner parties and other larger parties, to which Antonio was always invited.

  She had seen him a few times, but he'd invariably ignored her, or just said a few polite words before running his attention elsewhere, usually to some woman. Paige knew he had lots of women-she'd made a point of questioning a few of the staff at home about his dating activities. Not Evelyn, of course. But the cook, the maids, and Jim, the chauffeur.

  Paige consoled herself with the thought that there never seemed to be anyone special, anyone who lasted. On top of that, she'd never experienced the agony of actually seeing him in action with a woman... till last year's big Christmas Eve party.

  Paige had turned twenty-two the previous October, and believed she'd never looked better. Her skin had been lightly tanned, and her long honey-blond hair fell halfway down her back in one smooth shiny curtain. She'd come downstairs, dressed in a very sexy strapless red dress, hoping against hope that this time Antonio might see that she was at last a woman, not a silly little girl.

  Antonio had just arrived with a date, a striking and sophisticated creature of thirty-something who had still made Paige feel like a little girl by comparison. His gaze had skated over her-and her revealing dress-with nothing but barely held irritation.

  Never had the futility of her feelings been hammered home so strongly as that evening, when she'd. watched him turn from her to dance attendance on his date, never once giving Paige a second glance. Each touch of his hand on the woman's arm had been like a dagger in Paige's heart. Each drink he'd given her. Each dance.

  But the coup de grace had come when Paige came across them kissing on the terrace-if 'kissing' was the appropriate word to describe what they'd been doing. For it hadn't just been their mouths which were locked, but their whole bodies. Moulded and melded together in the most erotic fashion, one of Antonio's legs jammed hard between the woman's, one of hers lifting to run sinuously up and down his thigh.

  Paige was sure she'd cried out in pain, but nothing short of an atomic bomb exploding would have disturbed their passionate clinch. No one but the most naive could not imagine how their evening, would end, or that Antonio wouldn't be the most unforgettable of lovers.

  But then, Paige had already known he would be.

  It was that same intense, all-consuming passion she'd thought she'd found in Jed. Only this time it had been directed at her, not some other woman. She'd been so flattered by Jed's pursuit of her. Flattered, yet disastrously deluded.

  Paige winced as she touched the bruise once more.

  She was about to go into the bathroom and inspect the damage more closely when there was a knock on her bedroom door.

  'Who is it?' she asked agitatedly. Not her father again. Oh, please not him. He'd harangued her for ages last night, wanting to know what had happened, who had done this to her, what was his name, and his address? Had she been living with him? Was he her boyfriend, her lover? What had she done to make him hit her? She must have done something!

  Dismay had kept her silent, and defiant, as usual.

  She'd speared her father with a coldly contemptuous gaze before finally escaping to her room, only to fall onto the bed and cry herself to sleep. But now she was conscious again, and the transitory peace of oblivion was no longer hers.

  'It's Evelyn. I've brought you up a tray. '

  The door swung open before Paige could say another word, and in swept Evelyn. She was dressed in the same sort of bleak black dress she practically always wore, as though it were required uniform for a housekeeper. Paige noticed that she'd put on more weight this past year. Her cheeks had become jowly, and her already small eyes looked smaller within her pudgy face.

  'Your father said you were not to be allowed to skip meals while you're here this time, ' Evelyn pronounced haughtily as she placed the tray on the bedside table. 'He expects to hear that you've eaten every bite. And he expects to see you downstairs for dinner tonight as well. Right on eight. In a dress, ' she added, throwing a derisive glance over Paige's jeans.

  'I didn't bring any dresses with me, ' Paige said, already regretting her decision to come home, despite not having any other real alternative this time. She needed the safety and security Fortune Hall provided, for she suspected Jed was not going to take her leaving him lightly.

  'Don't be ridiculous, Paige, ' came the sneering retort. 'You left a whole wardrobe full of clothes behind when you first left home. I moved them all into the guest room next door when I thought you weren't coming back and this room needed a thorough spring clean. There's plenty of dresses among them. '

  'For pity's sake, Evelyn, ' Paige pointed out wearily,

  'you can't expect me to wear the same clothes I wore at seventeen. '

  'Why not? I seem to recall you spent all that year buying and wearing clothes that were way too old for you. On top of that, ' Evelyn added drily, 'if there's one thing I've learned since working for the rich and famous, it's that designer clothes don't date all that much. I'm sure you'll find something among them that'll do. It's not as though you've put on any weight. You're as skinny as ever. '

  Evelyn had always made comments about her weight and Paige hated it. She was a tall girl, and naturally slim. But one could hardly call her 'skinny'.

  'Whatever you say, Evelyn. ' She was too tired of spirit to argue. And what did it really matter?

  Evelyn went to leave, then stopped, peering closely at Paige's face. 'That's a nasty bruise you've got there, dear, ' she said, with a malicious glint in those beady eyes of hers. 'Walk into a door?'

  'Something like that. '

  'You should watch where you're. going, or one day you might really get hurt. ' And, with an expression which implied such a prospect would please her no end, Evelyn exited the room, deliberately leaving the door open behind her.

  Sighing, Paige rose and closed the door before returning to see what Evelyn had brought her to eat. Two huge club sandwiches, stuffed with mayonnaise. A piece of cream-filled cake big enough to feed an army, and a huge chocolate milkshake.

  Paige knew she wouldn't be able to consume that amount, let alone such rich food. But she didn't dare leave any behind. Evelyn would report back to her father, who would lecture her on everything from anorexia to ingratitude. Defiance always had its price around Fortune Hall.

  If only Blackie were still alive, she thought wistfully as she flushed half of the food down the toilet. That dog had been the perfect garbage disposal.

  Paige's heart turned over as she thought of her long-deceased pet. As dogs went, Blackie had been exceedingly ugly: a flea-bitten mongrel Paige had rescued from the pound after they'd put his photograph in the Sunday papers. Her father had been furious when she'd bought him and brought him home. Blackie had almost been as old as she was. Seven to her nine. Her father had declared him a health hazard because he was recovering from mange. He'd told her that if she returned him he would get her a proper pup, a poodle with a pedigree and papers.

  But she'd dug her heels in-the forerunner of future rebellions-and said stubbornly that she wasn't taking Blackie back to die and that she'd look after him herself, using her weekly allowance. He'd cost her a small fortune in vet bills, but she'd managed. Dog and girl had been inseparable till that dreadful day when she'd had to leave for boarding school. The housekeeper had promised to look after him, but when Paige had come back on her first home weekend, a month later, Evelyn had been installed as the new housekeeper and Blackie was declared dead, supposedly run over by a car. S
he'd never quite believed this story, but could never prove otherwise.

  Paige had vowed to get herself another dog one day. But she never had. It was hard to risk one's heart a second time after being so badly hurt, she'd found. Very hard.

  With half the food flushed away, and the rest reluctantly stuffed down into her fragile-feeling stomach, Paige went along to the next room to review the dresses that had appealed to her seventeen-year-old taste.

  She shook her head over most of them. If ever she needed evidence of her schoolgirl obsession with Antonio, it was in the collection of clothes before her. Never had she seen such an array of painfully provocative purchases: all designed to flaunt her body, and all, as Evelyn had pointed out, way too old for a seventeen-year-old.

  No wonder Antonio had stared at her across the dinner table when she'd come down dressed in those. Any living, breathing man would have given her a second glance. Paige was not ignorant of her physical attractions. She'd had them thrown in her face often enough in the past few years.

  Her hand ran along the hangers, searching for something-anything-which was suitable for a simple dinner with her father. She bypassed everything which was too short, too clingy, or too low-cut.

  Her eye finally landed on a cornflower-blue trouser suit which she'd never actually worn at all, come to think of it She'd bought it at one of those end-of-season sales because the saleslady had raved about her in it. But when she'd got it home Paige had childishly thought it far too simple and plain.

  Now, she liked its elegant simplicity very much. And blue always looked good on her, with her fair hair and blue eyes. But it wasn't a dress, was it? Too bad, she decided mutinously, and tugged the hanger out.

  Fortunately, the left-behind shoes didn't present any choice problem at all. Paige had been five-nine by the time she was fourteen, so she'd never bought too high a heel, not even during her Antonio-mad year.

  Selecting a pair of open-toed cream shoes with a low-ish heel, she returned to her room, where she stripped down to her undies and tried on the trouser suit. The reflection in the full-length cheval mirror in the corner brought an instant frown. Dear heaven, but she looked terribly busty! Bras did that to her in some clothes. Taking off the cardigan-style top, she removed her bra, then slid the silky cardigan back on, doing up the three small pearl buttons and having another look.

  Much, much better. Her breasts looked smaller for having settled lower and wider apart on her chest, and there wasn't an in-your-face cleavage filling the deep V-neckline. There were no ugly bra lines, either, to mar the way the silky top smoothly outlined her bust before falling loosely to her hips. The trousers had a similar cut, fitting snugly around her hips before falling straight down to her ankles in softer folds. It was a very wearable and comfortable outfit which would fit a wide variety of occasions. She really must remember to take it with her when she next left.

  Whenever that would be...

  Paige hadn't just lost the roof over her head last night. She'd lost her clothes as well. Which was a pity. She'd spent quite a bit putting together a decent work wardrobe to go with her new career direction.

  If only she'd dared go back into Jed's bedroom and get her set of keys before sneaking out of the place. If she had, she'd be able to slip into the building-and the apartment-while Jed was at work.

  Paige sighed. She could hardly see herself showing up while Jed was home, and politely asking permission to come up and get the rest of her clothes. Better she cut her losses and just disappeared.

  Maybe it was time to head interstate. Maybe up north to Queensland, where there were plenty of holiday resorts, and plenty of jobs going for an attractive girl with a wide range of working experience.

  A move to Queensland, however, would require money for her fare and some new clothes. She had some savings, but would need every cent to set herself up in a flat. Bond money and such. Her father would give her money if she asked, Paige knew. He might even resume putting that obscene monthly allowance into her bank account, if she begged.

  Frankly, she was tempted. All she had to do was eat humble pie and tell her father he was the greatest.

  But then she would have nothing left, would she? No self-respect. No independence. No pride.

  She had to find some other way out of the hell-hole she'd dug. for herself this time. Maybe she could stay here for a while, and get a job which had a uniform and gradually put together a wardrobe. She supposed she could 'bear Evelyn and her father for a few weeks. And at least she had one decent interview outfit!

  Paige stripped off again and headed for the bathroom. Time to have a long, relaxing bath. Time to pretend she hadn't totally stuffed up her life once more. Time to transport herself to a world where the man she was with would never dream of raising his hand to her, where the rings on her left hand spoke of love and commitment, and the babies they made together would never know the hurt and unhappiness which had marred her own childhood.

  When at her lowest, Paige always kept herself sane by wallowing in just such a fantasy world. So she lay there for ages beneath the lavender-scented bubble bath she'd found in the vanity and conjured up old faces, old dreams, and old desires. Tune flew by, and if, eventually.

  Tears rolled down Paige's cheeks, her soul had still been strangely soothed by her imaginings.

  At five to eight that evening, Paige carried her softened and perfumed body slowly down the huge sweep-ing staircase, crossed the cavernous foyer, with its domed, chandeliered ceiling, and entered the huge living area which led into the smaller and more elegant room where her father always had pre-dinner drinks. He did this for half an hour before every meal, regardless of whether he had visitors or not. Paige never joined him, partly because she didn't like to drink on an empty stomach, but mainly because she didn't like to give her father the opportunity to hurt her. When he drank, he developed a sarcastic tongue.

  Given that it was a Monday, Paige assumed he would be alone. So when she opened the door which led into the drawing room she was startled to see that wasn't the case at all.

  No... startled did not adequately describe her reaction to the sight of an elegantly attired Antonio, sitting in one of the armchairs which flanked the fireplace, a crystal flute of champagne in his hands. Stunned better described her instant state of mind. Stunned and sickened.

  Antonio was the last man in the world she wanted to see again, especially tonight, with the mark of another man's contempt for her glowering angrily on her cheekbone.

  CHAPTER THREE

  For a few fraught, fragile moments, Paige just stared at Antonio. Hard not to when the sight of him had always made her heart hammer madly against her ribs.

  This time was no different, except that her head began whirling angrily at the same time. Why hadn't Evelyn warned her Antonio would be here for dinner? She must have known he was coming.

  The answer was obvious, and cruel.

  Because she didn't want you to be prepared. She wanted you to stumble in here and make a fool of yourself, as you always do in Antonio's presence.

  Paige knew there wasn't anything that happened around Fortune Hall which Evelyn wasn't privy to. What the housekeeper didn't come to know by virtue of her position she found out through slyness and stealth. Over the years, Paige had caught the woman eavesdropping more than once, especially on the telephone. Her omission to mention Antonio's presence at dinner could only have had a malicious intent, which meant the hateful woman was aware of Paige's feelings for Antonio.

  Pride came to the rescue, as did some hard-won experience. Maybe she was getting used to handling the emotional devastation seeing Antonio always caused her. Or was it that at last she was beginning to grow up?

  'Why, hello, Antonio, ' she said casually as she strolled into the room and over towards the drinks cabinet in the corner. 'You startled me there for a moment. No one said anything about you being here tonight.

  You're looking well, ' she added, somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Well was not a word one would use to describ
e Antonio. It was far too insipid for his brand of raw physical impact.

  Tonight, he was looking exceptionally sexy all in black, his fine woollen suit given a casual look by being teamed with a black crew-necked top rather than his usual shirt and tie. The outfit seemed to intensify his dark colouring and brooding sex appeal, a fact which certainly didn't escape Paige's poor, pathetic heart.

  'I was thinking the same of you, actually, ' he returned silkily. 'Considering... '

  She laughed, sliding a mocking glance over her shoulder at him. 'You mean for someone who's boyfriend has just beaten her up?' Paige had found over the last few years that being mealy-mouthed and defensive around Fortune Hall only brought more looks and lectures on the way she was living her life. Better to face any sticky situation head-on, with a suitably defiant facade.