For Revenge...Or Pleasure? Page 13

  ‘Della-Bosca!’

  ‘The very same. It’s ironic, isn’t it?’ she continued. ‘I idolised her. I begged her to let me work with her. She was my own personal hero, and yet she turned out to be so bad, so corrupt. And I was too stupid to see it. I was too stupid to see any of it.’

  Guilt twisted Loukas’s gut and pulled down tight. What had he done to her? He hadn’t merely misjudged her, he’d damned her from the start. And she was right. He hadn’t understood a thing. It was like having blinkers suddenly removed—so much more about Jade made sense.

  No wonder she’d been so intensely loyal.

  No wonder she’d been so doggedly persistent in Della-Bosca’s defence.

  No wonder she’d fought tooth and nail against his every attempt to undermine her.

  ‘Not stupid,’ he said, pushing himself from the doorway and moving close enough to use the pad of his thumb to wipe a trace of dampness from her cheek. ‘Never stupid. Fiercely loyal. Supremely protective. And now I understand why. Thank you for telling me.’

  ‘But I was so wrong,’ she remonstrated, her voice cracking, her face anguished. ‘All the time I was defending her she was working to destroy herself. And I never saw it coming. All the time I was protecting her—oh, my God, Loukas, how many patients did I leave at risk because I refused to see what was happening? How many more could there been? Because I was blind to everything—she could do nothing wrong in my eyes—it was unthinkable.’

  He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Jade, don’t.’

  ‘And I never even saw it coming. If it hadn’t been for you coming along when you did, how long would it have taken me to realise what was going on? And at what cost? How many more lives might she have destroyed?’

  ‘Shh,’ he soothed, collecting her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. ‘It’s over.’

  ‘How many more?’ Her voice sounded as fragile and hollow as the sea urchins that sometimes washed up on the shore, their spines broken off, their insides empty, and their shells easily smashed, and he sensed instinctively that that was how Jade felt. And, as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t put all the blame down to Della-Bosca. He had more than his fair share to do with how she was feeling.

  ‘She can’t hurt anyone now.’

  He held her like that, swaying gently in the morning sun against the backdrop of the constant flow of the tide, one hand stroking her back, the other caressing her neck, his fingers laced softly through her hair.

  She’d fought against so much all her life, from such a tragic start, and against the odds she’d battled to make the most of herself. She was so brave, so fierce, so ready to defend those things she believed in—and she was suffering now because of it.

  She was amazing. And he’d treated her as if she was a crook. He’d taken advantage of her and used her shamelessly in his quest to pull Della-Bosca down. But the hardest thing to take was that he had without question spoiled any chance he had at all to be with her.

  So right now he would take what he could get. He could stay like this for ever, swaying gently in the sea breeze, holding a sun-kissed Jade in his arms. He wanted to lend her his strength, he wanted to see her fight again, he wanted to see her spirit.

  And he wanted her for himself.

  ‘Don’t leave,’ he said, almost before he’d acknowledged to himself that he wanted her to stay.

  He felt her breath catch, her body still.

  Without moving her head from his chest she asked, ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay with me.’

  She lifted her head and looked up at him, her blue eyes smoky and uncertain, searching his. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He sucked in a breath. He wasn’t sure he understood either. But he knew that whatever power drove him to want her couldn’t be denied.

  ‘You’re right. I can’t keep you here. But I’m asking you to stay with me.’

  ‘What about your sister? What about all your concerns about me going to the press?’

  ‘You won’t sell your story. I know that.’

  Her breath caught in disbelief. So finally he was giving her some credit for doing the right thing? But why now?

  Her words came out in one breath. ‘I didn’t tell you all that just so you would feel sorry for me.’

  ‘Who said anything about feeling sorry for you?’

  Her heartbeat seemed to triple in an instant. If he didn’t feel sorry for her then why else would he want her to stay? Here, nestled against Loukas’s body, she could almost bring herself to imagine he cared for her—at least a little.

  And that would be enough. After all that had happened between them there was nothing he could say that would make a difference to their future, but it would be enough just to know that he felt something for her. Just so she could take with her at least the thought that their nights together had meant something.

  ‘Why else would you want me to stay?’ she asked tentatively, afraid of what he might say, afraid of what he wouldn’t say.

  But in the end it didn’t really matter any more.

  Because now it was all too late.

  He rested his head on hers, his hands skimming her back. ‘It seems I’ve got a lot to make up for,’ he started. ‘I was wrong about a lot of things. I was wrong about you.’

  She blinked, straightening her back, forcing away the tightness in her throat. So this was all about paying his dues? He believed he owed her for misjudging her, and he thought he could set it to rights by being considerate to her and offering her a place to stay.

  Nothing more.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. But why should this latest revelation be such a surprise. Loukas had loved Zoë all along. His actions had made that beyond question. His motivations were now crystal-clear.

  Because he still loved Zoë, had loved her even through those passionate nights Loukas and Jade had shared, Zoë had been the one driving his actions, Zoë had been the one he’d been missing. Only in seeking to avenge himself against Grace had he bothered with her.

  And so be it. He didn’t feel anything for her. At least they didn’t have that unnecessary complication to contend with.

  She’d learned her lesson already in that department. Because she’d imagined for a while that she loved Loukas, had even hoped that her feelings might be reciprocated, but that was before she’d found out that her being in his bed was nothing more than part of his plan to pull down Grace.

  And just as he’d succeeded, and Grace’s world had collapsed, so too had Jade’s emotional landscape—shattering around her, scattering everything she knew, everything she held precious.

  And now she didn’t know what she felt any more. Now she didn’t know who to trust.

  She’d trusted Loukas for a time. And what had that got her? A few nights of pleasure and the bitter aftertaste of betrayal.

  And through it all she’d trusted Grace. She’d set her on a pedestal so high, established her so far up on a scale no mere mortal could compete with, never realising that if anything went wrong it was a very, very long way down.

  And things had gone desperately, irreversibly wrong. Now there was no way she could trust her own feelings. Now there was no one she could trust.

  Not Grace.

  Not Loukas.

  And least of all herself.

  She pushed herself out of the circle of his arms with a sigh and turned to gaze out over the bay one last time.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ she said.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  IT HAD been a long day, Jade thought, as she turned her yellow Mini Cooper into the parking bay of her modest Balmain apartment. A tiring day, and yet immensely satisfying. Even after only three months in her new job, already she was making a difference to the tattoos that marred the arms, hands and even cheeks of her patients, slowly eradicating any evidence of ill-thought-out adolescent decision-making or the result of peer group pressure.

  It would take many treatments and s
ome time before the tattoo pigments were broken up by the laser into pieces tiny enough for the cells’ own cleaning processes to deal with their removal. And it might take months or even longer for the tattoos to fade completely, depending on the size, colours and depth of the artwork.

  But these guys had the time. They weren’t going anywhere in a hurry. And by the time they were released they’d be rid of their home-made tattoos, the gang-inspired insignias, and any other visible artwork which would otherwise prejudice their chances of getting any job—let alone a good one.

  She smiled to herself as she let herself into her apartment. Yeah, it had been a good day. She was doing work that was worthwhile. She was making a difference.

  A Red Abyssinian cat bounded to the door as she opened it, greeting her with a plaintive series of mews.

  ‘Hello, Maxwell,’ she said, reaching down to stroke the elegant animal’s ears. ‘How was your day?’

  Maxwell wound himself around her ankles and complained some more about being left home alone without enough to eat before heading for the kitchen, obviously anticipating that Jade would take immediate steps to remedy the latter.

  She laughed. ‘Okay, Max, I know it’s late. I’m coming.’

  Once fed, the cat was quite happy to curl up quietly next to Jade on the small terrace outside. It was a warm night for spring, the air steamy, carrying the promise of a hot summer to come and filled with the sounds of live guitar music floating up from the nearby bar. Through the gap in the roof-lines she could see moonlight glistening on the dark waters of Sydney Harbour, until a late-night ferry cut a swath through the water, churning up the surface and chopping the reflection into shredded tinsel.

  She breathed deeply and let it out on a sigh. It was a different life from the one she remembered in Beverly Hills. No more living in a mansion, no more Mercedes car, no more using her talents on the rich and famous, the celebrities and the already very beautiful.

  And yet, for all the things she’d left behind, she was strangely content. She’d used only enough of her savings to buy this apartment and her car. She didn’t need any more than that and, given the associations the money had with her former life, she didn’t want it.

  So she’d ploughed the rest into the programme she’d sold to the local prison authorities—and once she’d convinced them she was serious they’d matched her contribution dollar for dollar. Now they had the most sophisticated state-of-the art laser equipment and a constant line of hopeful kids wanting to have their tattoos removed, wanting a decent chance at life.

  She was working harder and longer than she’d ever worked before, and for a stipend that barely kept Maxwell in cat food, but it was worth it. She didn’t want for anything.

  Except sometimes…

  She snatched up her glass of wine and took a sip, flicking impatiently through the magazine she’d brought out, searching for anything that would grab her interest and dampen down her line of thought.

  She didn’t want to think about Loukas. Not now—not when she’d left that world behind, when she’d turned her back on him and walked away.

  Because thinking about Loukas would get her nowhere. Wondering what might have happened if she’d agreed to stay was pointless.

  So why didn’t her dreams appreciate that? Why did scenes of Loukas’s lovemaking keep playing over and over in her head, haunting her? Because it was so real in her dreams, so real… Only then she’d wake up to twisted sheets and the agony of knowing she’d been cheated again. Because it wasn’t real.

  It had never been real.

  So why couldn’t she simply forget him?

  But the answer to that question was the cruellest blow of all. Because more than three months spent straightening out her head, trying to get a grip on her battered emotions, sorting out in her mind what was true and what was fake, what she wanted out of life and what she believed in, had only cemented in her mind one fact.

  She loved him.

  It made no sense. It made bad sense. She didn’t even understand why. The knowledge was simply there, deep inside, like a flame that wouldn’t go out—a flame that wouldn’t be extinguished.

  And the fact that it was wasted love, pointless, unnecessary and painful love, that taunted her in her weakest moments, that exploited her darkest hours, was no defence. It made no difference to how she felt. She loved him regardless.

  ‘Damn him!’ she said, picking up her magazine and wine glass. The cat raised his head and yawned, stretching out his front legs.

  ‘Come on, Maxwell,’ she said, holding the door open for him to follow her inside. ‘Bedtime.’

  ‘Dr Ferraro, you have a visitor.’

  ‘Thanks, Cathy,’ Jade said to the young administrative assistant, holding down the intercom button. She’d promised the prison board a report on the first few months’ operations, and she’d been told someone would be sent to collect it. ‘I’m just finishing up. Tell them I’ll be right out.’

  Jade completed typing up the last of the report and cleared her desk while it was printing out. She glanced down at her watch and grimaced. Maxwell would complain again, but it was Friday evening and they could spend plenty of quality time together this weekend.

  She quickly scanned the report and signed it, before slipping the original into a large envelope. Her purse slung over her shoulder, she headed out.

  ‘Sorry to keep you,’ she tossed in the direction of the man looking down over the coffee table, his back to her. ‘The report is ready…’

  Her heart gave a lurch, the words dying on her tongue.

  No!

  It couldn’t be.

  Then he turned, and her world shook and changed direction. She blinked.

  ‘Loukas?’

  She realised she was still holding out the envelope, her arm suspended between them. Stiffly, mechanically, she forced it down to her side.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Something passed through his eyes, too brief for her to get a handle on, and his lips curved up into something approximating a smile. ‘I came to find you.’

  Cathy made a sound next to her, dragging her attention away from Loukas to the young woman alongside her. ‘Um, is it okay if I leave now? Or would you like me to stay a bit longer?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jade said. ‘You go. I’ll be fine.’

  Cathy looked at Loukas, her eyes narrowing a fraction in suspicion and curiosity, as if summing up this stranger with the sexy American accent, before looking back to Jade and nodding. ‘If you’re sure, then.’ She took the envelope from Jade’s death-like grip. ‘I’ll take care of this for you, too. Goodnight.’

  The door closed behind the teenager and suddenly it was too still, too close, the office suddenly too small now that Loukas’s presence devoured the space. Only the sound of blood rushing in her ears, thumping through her veins, invaded the silence.

  ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.

  She hadn’t wanted to be found. Her body language, her nervous tension—she wasn’t happy he was here. He buried a sudden kick of disappointment.

  Maybe she hadn’t had enough time.

  Then again, maybe she’d had too much.

  Or maybe he’d just got it wrong.

  He seemed to make a habit of doing that where this woman was concerned. He hadn’t expected to find her hiding out in a place like this, that was for sure. With its shabby redbrick exterior, shoved up against the boundary of Sydney Central Jail, it was the antithesis of everything the Della-Bosca Clinic had been. Tired vinyl chairs instead of Italianate leather sofas, flaking paintwork rather than original artwork, and barbed wire fences in place of palm trees.

  And yet Jade herself looked vibrant, and so alive—despite her expression being guarded, wary.

  ‘You weren’t that hard to find.’ Especially not when he’d been Googling her name almost every other day. Only for curiosity’s sake, he’d told himself. Except since he’d discovered her new position in Sydney he’d been battling with himself to find a re
ason to stay away. Until he’d run out of excuses and the will to do that.

  He glanced around the basic walls of the office. ‘This place must be a bit of a come-down after Beverly Hills.’

  Her chin kicked up a notch. ‘Still judging everything by its appearance, I see.’

  He nodded, unable to resist the urge to smile even while he was cursing himself for his mistake. But hell, he’d missed her arguing, and it was so good to see she hadn’t changed that much.

  ‘Touché,’ he conceded. ‘You’re right. I hear you’re doing good work here.’

  Her head tilted to one side. ‘I’m happy.’

  He looked at her. Really looked at her this time. Beyond her overall look of well-being there were traces of shadow under her eyes, a hint of greyness marring the blue.

  ‘Are you?’ he said. ‘Are you really happy?’

  She drew in a ragged breath, her hands slapping against her trousers nervously.

  ‘The police told me it would be months before Grace’s prosecution went ahead. So what do you want?’ she asked, her voice uneven. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘We need to talk,’ he said. ‘Can I take you to dinner?’

  She glanced down at her watch, running her top teeth over her bottom lip in a way that had him suddenly focusing on her lips, unsullied by make-up but for the slightest remnant of gloss.

  It was a long time since he’d tasted their sweetness. It was a long time since he’d experienced their moist heat against his. He dragged in a breath. He was more than ready to experience those simple pleasures again.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I really have to get home. Maxwell is waiting for me. He’ll get upset if I’m home too late.’

  Something flickered in his jaw, and one eyebrow arched as his countenance turned darker.

  He knew it!

  He’d waited too long!

  She’d found someone else to console herself with. Someone else to replace him. Someone else who would feel her legs wrapped tight around him, accepting him, bucking under him.