The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) (61 page)

Flowers arrived late afternoon. A bouquet from the workshop staff, and three dozen red roses with
‘Diego'
scrawled in black ink on the attached card,
together with a special-delivery package from one of the élite lingerie boutiques.

‘Definitely
ah-hh
time,' an attentive nurse declared as Cassandra revealed two exquisite nightgowns and a matching robe. There were also essential toiletries—Chanel. He was nothing if not observant.

Cassandra ate little, endured a short visit from the police, gave a detailed account covering events during and after the robbery.

Then she slept, and she was unaware of Diego's presence in the room as he stood observing her features in repose.

So small, such a petite frame. Porcelain skin, and a mouth to die for.

He wanted to gather her up and take her home. To share his bed and hold her through the night. Just so he could. To protect, and ensure no one ever got close enough to hurt her again.

He, Diego del Santo, who'd bedded any number of women in his lifetime, now only wanted to bed one.

A slip of a thing, whose beautiful blue eyes had captivated him from the start. Without any effort at all she'd slipped beneath his skin and stolen his heart.

Was she aware of the effect she had on him?

The question was what he intended to do about it.

 

Cassandra woke early, accepted the nursing ritual and took a supervised shower. This morning the intravenous drip would be removed, and she wanted out of here.

The specialist was less than enthusiastic. ‘I'd prefer you remained under observation for another twenty-four hours.'

‘Prefer, but it's not essential?'

‘Do you live alone?'

Tricky. ‘Not exactly.' A resident cat didn't count. But she had the phone, her cellphone, and a caring neighbour.

He checked her vital signs, perused her chart. ‘Let's effect a compromise. I'll check on you this afternoon with a view to possible release.' He gave her a piercing look. ‘You have someone to collect and drive you home?'

She'd take a cab.

Which she did, arriving at her apartment just after six that evening. The manager produced a spare key and there was a sense of relief in being
home
.

The cat greeted her with a plaintive protest, and she fed her, put down fresh water, then made herself a cup of tea.

The
ouch
factor was very much in evidence, and she swallowed another two painkillers.

A nice quiet evening viewing television followed by an early night. By Monday she should be able to return to work.

Cassandra settled comfortably on the sofa, and
smiled as the cat jumped onto her lap. She surfed the television channels, selected a half-hour comedy and prepared to relax.

The insistent ring of the intercom buzzer was an unwelcome intrusion, and she transferred the cat, then moved to check the security screen.

Diego.

She picked up the in-house phone. ‘I'm fine, and I'm about to go to bed.'

‘Release the door.' His voice was deceptively mild.

‘I'm too tired for visitors.'

‘You want for me to get the manager and explain you left hospital under false pretences?'

‘I already spoke to him. He gave me a spare key.'

‘Cassandra—'

‘Leave me alone. Please,' she added, then she replaced the receiver and moved back to take up her position on the sofa.

The cat had just re-settled itself on her lap when her doorbell rang. Her neighbour?

The manager, she determined through the peephole, with Diego at his side.

She unlocked and opened the door. The manager looked almost contrite. ‘Your—er—friend expressed concern about your welfare.'

‘As you can see, I'm fine.' If she discounted the pain factor.

Diego turned towards the man at his side. ‘I'll take it from here.'

He looked momentarily nonplussed. ‘Cassandra?'

What could she say? ‘It's OK.'

Seconds later she closed the door and turned to face the man who'd managed to turn her life upside-down. ‘Just what do you think you're doing?'

He was silent for a fraction too long, and there was something very controlled in his manner. ‘You want me to pack a bag, or will you?'

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘You heard,' Diego said calmly. ‘You get to come with me, or I sleep here.' His gaze lanced hers, and there was no mercy in the silkiness of his voice. ‘Choose, Cassandra.'

‘I don't want you here.' It was a cry from the heart, and her breath hitched at the pain from her ribs.

Diego's eyes went dark, and a muscle bunched at his jaw. Without a word he turned and made for her bedroom.

‘You can't do this!' Dammit, he was several steps ahead of her.

‘Watch me.'

‘Diego…' She faltered to a halt at the sight of him opening drawers and tossing contents into a holdall before crossing to her walk-in wardrobe, where he chose clothes at random. From there he moved into the
en suite
and swept items into a toiletry pouch.

‘OK, let's go.'

‘I'm not going anywhere with you!'

‘Yes, you are. On your feet, or I get to carry you.'

He waited a beat. ‘On your feet is the better option.'

Cassandra wanted to hit him…
hard
. ‘Just who in hell do you think you are?' she demanded furiously.

Diego sought control, and found it. ‘You need to rest, recuperate. I intend to see that you do.'

‘I can look after myself.'

‘Sure you can.' He closed the zip fastener on the holdall and caught the straps in one hand. ‘Next week.'

His gaze seared hers in open challenge. ‘Until then, I get to call the shots.'

‘And if I refuse?'

‘I carry you out of here.'

There was no doubt he meant every word. Dignity was the key, and she observed it in silence as she followed him out into the lobby, then rode the lift down to the entrance foyer.

The Aston Martin was parked immediately outside, and she slid into the passenger seat, then watched as he crossed round to the driver's side.

Minutes later they joined the flow of traffic, traversing the relatively short distance to his Point Piper home.

Cassandra barely held her temper. He was the most impossible man she'd ever had the misfortune to meet. Dictatorial, indomitable, omnipotent.

She could think of several more descriptions, none of which were ladylike.

Diego swept the car along the driveway, activated the modem controlling the garage doors, then eased to a halt and switched off the engine.

Cassandra heard the dull click as the doors closed and made no attempt to exit the car.

‘How long do you intend to sulk?'

She threw him a fulminating glare. ‘I don't
sulk
.' She drew in a deep breath, and winced. ‘I simply have nothing to say to you.'

Whereas he had a lot to say to her about taking risks and being a hero. Dammit, did she have any idea what the outcome could have been?

His blood ran cold just thinking about it.

However, it would have to wait. If she felt anywhere near as fragile as she looked, the only thing she needed right now was some tender loving care.

Diego slid out from behind the wheel and reached for her holdall, then he crossed round to open the passenger door. ‘Let's take this inside.' He reached in and released her safety belt.

‘I'd prefer to go home.'

‘We've already done this.'

So they had, but she was in a perverse mood and uninclined to comply.

‘Stubborn.' He slid one arm beneath her knees and lifted her out from the car, then he bent down, caught up the holdall, used one hip to close the car door, and strode through to the foyer.

‘I hate you,' Cassandra said fiercely.

‘It's a healthy emotion.'

‘Put me down.'

He began ascending the stairs. ‘Soon.'

‘If you intend taking me to bed, I'll
hit
you.'

They gained the gallery, and reached the master suite seconds later, where he lowered her gently down onto her feet. With deft movements he turned back the covers and built up a nest of pillows.

‘Get into bed. I'll bring you a cup of tea.'

‘I don't need you to play nursemaid.'

Diego loosened his tie and discarded his jacket, and threw both over a nearby chair. ‘It's here with me, or the hospital.'

‘You're giving me a choice?'

He undid the top few buttons of his shirt. ‘I made the choice for you.' He walked to the door, then paused as he turned to face her. ‘If you're not in bed when I come back, I'll put you there.'

‘Fat chance.' Empty retaliatory words that gave her a degree of satisfaction.

She spared a glance at the bed, and the comfort it offered was sufficient for her to snag a nightshirt and toiletries from her holdall, then retreat with them into the
en suite
.

Every movement hurt, her body ached, and she began to wonder at her wisdom in leaving hospital too soon.

Minutes later she emerged into the bedroom and slid carefully beneath the covers. It would be so easy just to close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

Diego re-entered the room, tray in hand, and qui
etly closed the door behind him. The snack and hot tea could wait. He could wait.

Just the sight of her lying in repose against the nest of pillows was enough to stop the breath in his throat and send his heart thudding to a faster beat.

He should dim the lights, exit the room quietly and let her sleep.

He did the first, laid down the tray, then settled his lengthy frame into a chair. There was a sense of satisfaction in watching over her.

Here was where she belonged. Where he wanted her to stay.

Diego sat there for a long time, alert to her faintest move, the slightest murmur of pain. In the depth of night he extracted two painkillers, part-filled a glass with water, then had her swallow both.

Only when she slipped effortlessly back to sleep did he discard his clothes and slide carefully in beneath the bedcovers to lay awake until the early pre-dawn hours.

C
ASSANDRA
drifted through the veils of sleep into wakefulness, aware from the room's shadowed light that night had become morning. Early morning, unless she was mistaken.

Her body tuned into numerous bruises and made her painfully aware that any sudden movement on her part was not going to be a good idea.

The bed, this room…they weren't her own. Then she remembered…and wished she hadn't.

She turned her head slowly and encountered Diego's dark gaze. He lay on his side, facing her, his body indolently at ease as he appraised her features.

An improvement on last night, he perceived, lifting a hand to brush a swathe of hair back from her cheek.

His eyes narrowed at the thin line inches long at the base of her throat. It would heal, and after a while the scar would fade.

‘Want to talk about it?'

‘A verbal post-mortem?' She tried for flippancy, and failed miserably. ‘The facts are in the official report.'

Facts he'd read, assimilated, and dealt with. ‘You
didn't follow the book.' He still went cold at the thought of what could have happened.

‘Concern for my welfare, Diego?'

‘That surprises you?'

It seeded a germ of hope. She attempted a light shrug, and didn't quite pull it off. ‘Banking, gem merchants and jewellers are high-risk industries for robbery.'

So they were. But employees were drilled to respond passively, not attack or act with aggression.

‘You scared the hell out of me.' He traced the outline of her mouth with a gentle finger. ‘Next time don't be a hero, hmm?'

Cassandra didn't answer. No one in their right mind wanted a
next time
.

‘What would you have done in a similar situation?'

Diego's eyes narrowed. He'd known the streets in his teens, lived on them for a while, worked them. Taken risks that brought him too close to the law, but never close enough to be caught. He'd carried a knife, but never a gun, studied and practised oriental techniques of combat and self-defence. Techniques that could kill a man with a well-aimed blow from the hand or foot.

In answer to her question, he would have judged the odds and taken a calculated risk. As she had done.

‘If you dare tell me it's OK for a man, but not a
woman,' Cassandra said with quiet vehemence, ‘I'll have to hit you.'

His eyes darkened and assumed a musing gleam. ‘Now, that could prove interesting.'

She could only win if he allowed her to, she perceived, aware there were few, if any, capable of besting him in any arena.

There was much more beneath the surface than he permitted anyone to see. No one, not even the most diligent member of the media, had uncovered much of his past. It made her wonder if the shadows shielded something that didn't bear close scrutiny…and what there had been to mould him into the person he'd become.

‘Hungry?'

For food or you?
Both
, she could have said and almost did. Except the former had priority, and was a much safer option than the latter.

Besides, she retained too vivid a memory of what they'd shared together in this bed.

‘Shower, then breakfast.' Decisive words followed by smooth action as she slipped out of bed and crossed to the
en suite
.

Cassandra set the water temperature to warm, then she stepped into the glass and marble stall, caught up the shampoo and began with her hair.

There was a need to thoroughly cleanse her skin of her abductor's touch. She hated the memory of his hands, his almost manic expression, and the sound of his voice. It could have been worse, much
worse, and she trembled at the thought. Delayed reaction, she determined, and vigorously massaged shampoo into her scalp.

‘Let me help you with that.'

She stilled, locked into speechless immobility for a few electric-filled seconds, then she released the pent-up breath she'd unconsciously held. ‘I can manage.'

‘I don't doubt it,' Diego drawled, as he began a series of slow, soothing, circular movements.

His gaze narrowed as he took in her bruised rib-cage, the deep bluish marks on her arms. He wanted to touch his mouth to each one, and he would…soon. But for now he was content to simply care for her.

Dear heaven, Cassandra breathed silently. To stand here like this was sheer bliss…magical. She closed her eyes and let the strength of his fingers ease the tension from her scalp, the base of her neck, then work out the kinks at her shoulders.

He had the touch, the skill to render her body boneless, and an appreciative sound sighed from her lips as he caught up the soap and began smoothing it gently over the surface of her skin.

When he was done, he caught her close and cradled her slender frame against his own, then nuzzled the curve at her neck.

Diego felt her body tremble, and he trailed his mouth to hers in a gentle exploration that brought warm tears to her eyes.

Did he see them, taste them? she wondered, wanting only to wrap her arms round him and sink in. The temptation was so great, it took all her strength to resist deepening the kiss.

With considerable reluctance she dragged her mouth from his and rested her cheek against his chest.

It felt good, so good to be here with him like this. To take the comfort he offered, savour it and feel secure.

Cassandra felt him shift slightly, and the cascading water stilled.

‘Food, hmm?' He slid open the door, snatched a towel and began rubbing the moisture from her body before tending to his own.

It took scant minutes to utilise toiletries and clean her teeth before she escaped into the bedroom, where she retrieved jeans and a loose shirt from her bag, then, dressed, she caught up a brush and restored order to her hair.

Diego emerged as she applied pins to secure its length, and her gaze strayed to his reflected image, mesmerised by the smooth flex of sinew and muscle as he donned black jeans and a polo shirt.

She tamped down the warmth flooding her veins, the core of need spiralling deep inside. Crazy, she acknowledged. She was merely susceptible to circumstance…and knew she lied.

He turned slightly and his gaze locked with hers. For a brief moment everything else faded from the
periphery of her vision, and there was only the man and a heightened degree of electric tension in the room.

It felt as if her soul was being fused with his, like twin halves accepting recognition and magnetically drawn to become one entity.

Mesmeric, primitive, incandescent.

She forgot to breathe, and she stood still, like an image caught frozen in time and captured on celluloid.

Then the spell broke, and she was the first to move, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she turned towards the door.

Had Diego felt it, too? Or was she merely being fanciful?

Coffee. She needed it hot, strong, black and sweet.

Cassandra took the stairs and made her way towards the kitchen, aware Diego followed only a step behind her.

‘Go sit down on the terrace. I'll fix breakfast.'

Soon the aroma of freshly made coffee permeated the air, the contents in the skillet sizzled, and minutes later he placed two plates onto the table.

The morning sun held the promise of warmth, the air was still, and the view out over the infinity pool to the harbour provided a sense of tranquillity.

Cassandra ate well, much to her surprise. She hadn't expected to do the meal justice, and she
pushed her empty plate to one side with a sense of disbelief.

‘More coffee?' It was a token query as Diego refilled her cup, then his own.

She felt at peace, calm after the previous afternoon's excitement.

‘I'll call a cab.'

His expression remained unchanged, but there was a sense of something dangerous hovering beneath the surface. ‘To go where?'

His tone was deceptively mild…too mild, she perceived. ‘My apartment.' Where else?

He replaced his empty cup down onto its saucer with care. ‘No.'

‘What do you mean…
no
?'

‘It's a simple word,' Diego drawled. ‘One not difficult to understand.'

She looked at him carefully. ‘I don't want to fight with you.'

‘Wise choice.'

‘But—'

‘There has to be a
but
?'

It was time to take a deep breath…except her ribs hurt too much, and she had to be content with
shallow
. ‘Thank you for—' She paused fractionally. For what? Taking care of her, bringing her here…caring. Oh, hell, she had to keep it together! ‘Looking after me,' she concluded. ‘It was very kind.'

He was silent for a few measurable seconds, and his eyes narrowed, masking a hardness that was at
variance with the softness of his voice. ‘Are you done?'

‘Yes.' She waited a beat. ‘For now.'

‘I'm relieved to hear it.'

He was something else. All hard, muscular planes, and leashed strength as he leaned back in his chair, looking as if he owned the world…and her.

Total power, she accorded silently, and was determined not to be swayed by his sense of purpose.

Cassandra discarded her coffee and rose to her feet, then began stacking empty plates onto a tray, only to have it taken from her hands.

Without a further word she moved from the room and made her way upstairs.

It didn't take much to scoop her belongings into the holdall Diego had thrust them in the previous evening, and minutes later she picked up the bedroom extension, punched in the digits for a cab company, and was in the process of giving instructions when Diego entered the room.

Without a word he crossed to where she stood and cut the connection.

An action which sparked indignant anger as she turned to face him. ‘How
dare
you?'

‘Easily.'

‘You have no right—'

He held up a hand. ‘Last night you discharged yourself from hospital against medical advice. Your brother is in Melbourne, and unless I'm mistaken he's unaware of yesterday's escapade. You live
alone.' His eyes were dark and held a latent anger that most would shrink from. ‘Want me to go on?'

‘I don't need a self-appointed guardian.'

‘Like it or not, you've got one…for another twenty-four hours at least.'

Her chin tilted. ‘You can't force me to stay.'

‘It's here, or hospital readmission,' Diego said succinctly. ‘Choose.'

She considered punching him, then discarded the idea on the grounds it would inevitably hurt her more than it would him. ‘You're a dictatorial tyrant,' she said at last.

‘I've been called worse.'

He wasn't going to budge. She could see it in his stance, the muscle bunching at his jaw.

‘Who said you get to make the rules?' It was a cry from the heart, rendered in anger.

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

‘I need to feed my cat.' She threw one hand in the air to emphasise the point, then winced as pain shot through her body. ‘Dammit.'

Diego swung between an inclination to shake or kiss her, considered the former followed by the latter, then went with rationale. ‘So, we'll go feed him.'

‘She,' Cassandra corrected. ‘The cat's a
she
.'

He collected his keys and moved towards the door, then paused, turning slightly to look at her when she hadn't shifted position. ‘You need to think about it?'

She wanted to throw something at him, and would have if there had been something close at hand. Instead she opted for capitulation…reluctantly.

Silence won over recrimination during the short drive to her apartment building, and she cast Diego a hard glance as he slid from behind the wheel.

‘You don't have to come up with me.' What did he think she might do? Lock herself in? A speculative gleam lit her eyes…now, there was a thought!

He didn't answer as he joined her at the security area immediately adjacent to the entrance, and she restrained from uttering an audible sigh as he walked at her side to the bank of lifts.

A deeply wounded
miaow
greeted her the moment she unlocked her apartment door, and the cat butted its head against her leg in welcome.

Bite him,
Cassandra silently instructed as Diego leant down and fondled the cat's ears.

The cat purred in affectionate response, and ignored her.

Great. Three years of food, a bed to sleep on and unconditional love…for all that I get ignored? There was no accounting for feline taste.

It took only minutes to put down food and fresh water, and Cassandra spared Diego a level look. ‘I'm fine. Really.'

One eyebrow rose. ‘So…go now and leave me alone?' He examined her features, assessing the pale cheeks, the dark blue eyes. ‘We've done this already.'

So they had, but she felt akin to a runaway train that couldn't stop. ‘I'm sure you have a social engagement lined up for this evening.' It was, after all, Saturday. ‘I'd hate to be the reason you cancelled. Or cause problems with your latest—' she paused momentarily ‘—date.'

‘Are you through?'

‘I don't want to be with you.'

He didn't move, but she had the impression he shifted stance. How did he do that? Go from apparent relaxation mode to menacing alert?

‘Afraid, Cassandra?'

Yes,
she wanted to cry out. Not of you. Myself. For every resolve I make away from you disintegrates into nothing whenever you're near. And I can't,
won't
allow myself to fall to pieces over you.

Too late,
a silent imp taunted. You're already an emotional wreck.

Every reason for her to walk away
now
. If only he would leave.

‘Of yourself…or me?' Diego queried quietly.

Her chin tilted. ‘Both.'

His mouth curved into a soft smile. ‘Ah, honesty.' His gaze swept the room. ‘If there's nothing else you need to do, we'll leave.'