CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER TWO
L EX STOOD AT the windows that lined one side of the conference room. From here he could see the dark blue Aegean Sea beyond Athens.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, annoyed at his inability to concentrate. The meeting had gone well and he should be following up with his staff, confirming their next steps. There was so much to do, given his expansion plans.
But it wasn’t business on his mind. It was a pair of dark, pansy-brown eyes, wide with hurt. A narrow jaw clenched as if to hold in a spill of emotion.
The moment he’d seen Portia hurry from the auction room, exiting via a back door, everything had changed. Slid off track. As if the world he knew abruptly shifted sideways so that even the most familiar things looked different.
Felt different.
He shook his head. Even viewing her from behind, with her partly obscured by the crowd, recognition had been instantaneous. Like a slamming fist to the gut.
Seeing her after all these years shouldn’t have altered anything. Their time together was ancient history. She’d made a fool of him. He should have known, given her background, not to believe in her.
But you did. And you almost wanted to again.
Because just for a few moments when they met again, she’d looked lost and distressed. As if the past had meant something to her. As if he’d meant something to her.
She took you in once and she was trying to play you again. Of course she was distressed, coming face-to-face with you out of the blue.
But Lex couldn’t dismiss the nagging feeling of unfinished business. There were things he wanted to know.
He’d never been vengeful, and even at the time when his world crumpled, he hadn’t completely blamed Portia. She’d only just turned seventeen to his nineteen. Lex had told himself he shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d turned out more like her awful father than he’d believed possible.
Yet her betrayal, and more—her scorn—had hurt.
Almost as much as discovering how his mother had lied to him all his life. So many wasted years...
Logic told him Portia’s betrayal had been ultimately a good thing. He was better off without her. And yet...
He shook his head. It didn’t matter what she’d done, he shouldn’t have lost his temper. He’d learnt in business that revealing emotion was a weakness an opponent could use against you. He’d let anger take over in London.
Did she guess how hurt he’d been? Had she silently laughed at him?
Or had she regretted their parting, now she saw he’d become a man of wealth and power?
The Oakhursts had always valued prestige and money.
Lex raked short fingernails across his scalp, trying to break the cycle of fruitless thoughts.
He shouldn’t have threatened to destroy the painting. He wasn’t into empty threats. But at the time it had been imperative that she not guess the rush of emotion that had led to his bidding.
He’d seen the painting in the catalogue and been determined to own it. If old man Oakhurst was in such financial difficulty he had to sell off his precious possessions, how fitting if Lex acquired one of those once closely guarded treasures. The supposed ne’er-do-well bastard son of a shiftless gypsy, the old man had called him.
But Lex hadn’t bought it merely from a sense of one-upmanship. It had been a little over a decade, yet something in him had softened, yearning, when he saw that painting.
Because it had taken him back to that halcyon time with Portia, brief but oh-so-sweet.
That was why he’d told her he intended to destroy it. Because he couldn’t let her guess he’d acquired it out of sentimentality.
He no longer believed in youthful dreams. Looking back now, it was remarkable he ever had. It was only with Portia...
Lex turned and strode from the room. He had work to do. He needed to focus on the present not the past, and on his plans for the future.
Three weeks later he returned to Mayfair.
Ostensibly he was here to view the sculptures in an upcoming auction. But the tingle of anticipation at the base of his spine as he strode into the hushed, plush reception area had nothing to do with art and everything to do with the prospect of seeing Portia.
He’d resisted, just, hiring someone to investigate her. There must have been significant changes in her family if her father was selling off possessions. But pride halted him. He wasn’t interested enough in the Oakhursts to spend good money researching them.
A phone call from his PA to the auction house, confirming Portia worked there, didn’t count as an investigation.
A job in a prestigious art auction house was exactly the sort of work young aristocrats dabbled in. Whatever changes there’d been, her father was still pulling strings, getting his girl a job where she wouldn’t get her hands dirty. Where she’d be bound to meet the right sort of people.
Lex’s lips drew back in a sneer. Funny how the right sort of people were only too ready to welcome him these days. Money talked.
But his derision couldn’t cloak a singular, disturbing truth. That three weeks ago, seeing Portia for the first time in over ten years, Lex had felt something he hadn’t experienced in years.
He’d refused to find a name for it, choosing to tell himself it was simply a lingering remnant of old emotions, dredged up in the surprise of meeting her again. But it had unsettled him, so he’d made his way back to London to prove that this time when he saw her he’d feel nothing.
Then he’d walk away and never see her again.
‘Mr Tomaras, it’s a pleasure to welcome you back. You’re here to view some pieces?’
Lex paused to shake hands with Piers Jameson who ran the place. ‘I found myself in the vicinity and thought I’d stop by. And I might follow up an old acquaintance while I’m here. Portia Oakhurst.’
‘Of course, I remember.’ He saw the other man’s glint of speculation. ‘I’ll ask her to come out now.’
‘I’d prefer to surprise her when she finishes for the day. Meanwhile I’ll check out the pieces on display.’
‘Excellent, excellent.’ Jameson led him towards a large gallery room where items for the next sale were on display. ‘I’ll make sure she finishes up in...half an hour?’
Lex thanked him and entered the gallery.
Who do you think you’re fooling? Even Jameson guessed your priority was to see her.
Only because then he could wash his hands of her. Once past the initial surprise, it would be like seeing a casual acquaintance. Nothing more. No...feelings.
Lex took a catalogue from an eager staff member and strolled into the gallery space, artfully lit to display the sculptures to best effect.
There were a few pieces he might be interested in, including a small Cycladic figure, primitive yet powerful. He could imagine it in his home.
Or thought he could. Once more Portia interfered with his decision-making, distracting him so he found himself paying more attention to the view of the reception area, waiting for her to emerge, than to the display.
He checked the time. It had been half an hour and more by the time he saw a slim figure in blue-grey walking towards the exit.
His pulse kicked. Not with excitement but satisfaction that this was almost over.
One more short meeting and he could cut her adrift. Portia Oakhurst would be no more than a distant memory, a salutary lesson in the dangers of excess emotion and trusting the wrong person.
Lex sauntered out into the reception area and followed his target.
He mightn’t have any interest in Portia anymore but that didn’t stop him appreciating the way she moved. She’d always had an athletic grace, particularly in the saddle, and that translated now into a wholly feminine poise. The fitted jacket and straight skirt outlined slender curves that he might have found alluring in another woman. The sway of her hips was enticing but not exaggerated. Her blonde hair was pulled up in some neat arrangement that accentuated the slimness of her neck.
Yes, if she were anyone but Portia Oakhurst, he might have been tempted.
Towards the end of the corridor she shrugged into a dark coat.
He lengthened his stride, catching her up on the pavement. ‘What a coincidence,’ he murmured and watched her start. Satisfaction was a tiny but discernible glow in his belly. He’d hated the way she’d made him feel last time they met. Struggling to get control of himself. ‘Years go by and suddenly I see you twice in a month.’
Slowly she turned, revealing first her profile—that almost straight nose with just the tiniest bump near the bridge, neatly angled chin and soft, slightly pouting lips. Lex focused quickly on long dark lashes and the elegant arch of one eyebrow.
Then she was facing him, eyes wide, lips parted in surprise and face pale against her red lipstick.
There goes that theory.
You were supposed to meet her and feel nothing.
Lex dragged his attention away from those pillow-soft lips and back to her eyes. In this light and against that blue suit they seemed to shimmer between amethyst and deep brown.
He cleared his throat. Then surprised himself by saying, ‘I wasn’t really going to destroy the painting.’
He stiffened. He wasn’t given to blurting out information. If anything he tended to be reticent, keeping his thoughts to himself. He’d grown up a loner and he’d found that trait an asset in business. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken without thinking.
Emotion rippled across her face. Shock? Relief? Whatever it was, her features no longer looked frozen.
Lex tried not to notice how the wash of colour across her cheeks became her. But that was impossible because despite what he’d told himself, he wasn’t immune to Portia after all.
He looked down into those velvety eyes and discovered a yearning so deep no amount of logical argument could eradicate it. He felt it in his chest where his lungs grew tight and heavy. It was a tingle in hands that wanted to reach out and reacquaint themselves with her soft skin. Above all it was a weighted fullness in his groin, a physical hunger that banished any thought of walking away.
‘I’m glad,’ she said and for one delicious instant he thought she meant she was glad to see him. Until his brain clicked into gear and he realised she was talking about the picture being safe from harm.
How the mighty have fallen. The voice in his head was smugly mocking. You’ve grown used to women hanging on your every word and trying to get your attention.
Her gaze skated away as if she were suddenly uncomfortable. ‘You’re here to view the items for the next auction?’
Lex nodded, registering how her voice had turned breathless. Relief eased tensed muscles. She wasn’t immune either. That darting sideways glance under her lashes and the husky edge to her words betrayed sexual awareness.
An interest Portia seemed determined to ignore. She looked past him as if searching for a bus as raindrops began to sprinkle.
‘That’s right.’ He paused, deciding not to admit he’d already discovered she worked there. ‘You?’
He watched emotions flicker across her features as if she wasn’t sure whether to admit she was on the staff. Was she ashamed of working for a living? Once he’d have laughed at the idea. But then he hadn’t known her as well as he thought he had. Portia Oakhurst wasn’t the girl he’d once believed her to be.
‘It’s where I work.’
‘You always were interested in art.’
Her eyes rounded as if in surprise that he remembered.
He was tempted to tell her he remembered everything. Including every word of that final, appalling text.
The memory hardened his jaw and he saw her take a half step back.
How was it possible to dislike and distrust a woman yet at the same time desire her?
Her head tilted and she regarded him. ‘I don’t remember art being one of your interests.’
Lex shrugged. ‘I came to it later.’
His father’s impressive art collection had been a catalyst for his own interest. That and the fact he was no longer trying to make ends meet by holding down three jobs for substandard wages. Admittedly he was too busy to have a lot of leisure time, but that was his choice. He could afford time off to enjoy the luxuries of life when he chose.
Was Portia a luxury he intended to enjoy?
It would be madness. He never made the same mistake twice. Yet something deep inside decreed that he’d regret walking away from her now.
Because you want to be the one to walk away this time and leave her wanting?
He told himself it would be understandable to want payback after the way she’d treated him. But Lex knew it wasn’t that.
The gentle patter of rain became a steady drumming, wetting his hair. Yet instead of hurrying away as she’d looked ready to do a few moments before, Portia stood looking up at him, her scrutiny intense.
He reached out and touched her elbow. ‘Come on, there’s no point standing out here getting wet. You never did stay for that drink.’
Still he waited. It had to be her choice to come with him. He discovered his lungs had tightened as he waited for her reply. What was it about her that ignited such a visceral response?
He’d spent years working hard to make something of himself even before the challenge of building up his own business. Yet waiting for her response made him feel like that callow youth he’d once been, so eager, foolishly trusting.
One way or another he needed to get this woman out of his system.
Finally she nodded. ‘Why not?’
But the look she gave him belied her flippant answer. Her eyes were serious, her mouth firm as he led her around the corner to his hotel.
They crossed the black-and-white-tiled lobby with its high domed ceiling, making for the bar. They garnered a few curious stares but he ignored them. Public curiosity was part of his life now.
Instead Lex was minutely aware of Portia beside him. Her scent, that familiar perfume of bluebells, teased his nostrils, reminding him of spring at Cropley.
The memory shattered when they reached the bar. Usually quiet and discreet, today it was filled with a throng of loud young people, dressed to the nines and celebrating at the top of their voices. Their accents spoke of inbred privilege and their shouts proclaimed their total lack of care for anyone but themselves.
‘Change of plan. There’s a lounge upstairs that won’t be full of Hooray Henrys.’
A tiny frown formed on Portia’s forehead and for a moment he feared she had second thoughts. Then she nodded and he led her to the lift. In his belly satisfaction and anticipation coalesced.
Portia shouldn’t be doing this. She should have turned back when they stepped out of the lift into a hushed corridor that led, not to public rooms but to private suites. But she’d stood mute as Lex used a swipe card to let them into a magnificently appointed suite.
Because she needed to do this. Needed to set the record straight. And then walk away.
But as she watched Lex’s long-legged stride across the room, the sharp, achingly familiar angle of his temple and jaw, her breath hitched in her chest before finally escaping on a long sigh.
She didn’t want to walk away.
Even though she’d managed it a few weeks ago, she wasn’t sure she could do it now. Then his barely disguised anger had simmered between them, and her guilt.
But today it felt different between them.
It felt as it had that summer when she turned seventeen. The spark between them. The communication that went beyond words. The flare of heat. The breathless passion that opened a whole new world to her.
You’re kidding yourself. There’s no going back, even if you wanted to.
But she could at least set the record straight. Didn’t they both deserve that?
‘What will you have?’
Lex turned towards her, phone to his ear, and even from a distance the intensity of that stare made her shiver. She told herself it was because she was cold and damp.
‘Hot chocolate, please.’ She caught his flash of surprise before he turned back to the phone, placing the order. Maybe these days he only drank champagne and expensive wine.
Too wired to sit, she paced the length of the room. It was large, superbly furnished and with multi-million-dollar views over the park. It had all the elegance of a grand country home where exquisite taste blended with comfort. Luxurious rather than brazenly opulent.
Like Cropley Hall had been in its heyday. How completely circumstances had changed. This world was Lex’s now while she struggled to make ends meet, living in a tiny shared flat.
But she was proud of making it on her own. Her father had expected her to return home with her tail between her legs.
Portia’s skin prickled with awareness. She sensed Lex approach though his footsteps were silent on the plush carpet.
It was one of the few things about him she’d forgotten. The fact that even though he wasn’t in her line of sight she could pinpoint exactly where he was, as if some internal radar were attuned precisely to his presence.
Right now he stood less than an arm’s length behind her left shoulder as she looked out at the dripping green park.
Heat sang in her veins and she found herself rubbing her hands up her arms, disturbed by her reaction.
‘You’re cold? I’ll turn the heating up.’
‘No, I’m fine.’ She felt her cheeks burn and busied herself removing her rather shabby, old coat.
‘Let me take that.’
She shook her head and moved away, draping it over the arm of a chesterfield lounge. ‘It’s okay.’
That way she could grab it if she needed to make a quick exit. Whenever he got close she felt jumpy. Aware.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all. But she was no coward and she’d wanted, for so long, to clear the air between them.
‘So you don’t live in London?’
Obviously not, since he was staying in a hotel. But she needed to break the gathering silence.
‘My home is in Greece.’ His voice was deeper than she remembered but still had the ability to make her nerves twitch and her insides tighten. ‘But there was something that needed my attention in London.’
He doesn’t mean you. He’s a businessman. He’s probably here for commercial reasons and happened to stop by the saleroom. He didn’t even know you’d be there.
That was a relief. Portia could tell him the truth about that long ago night and then they’d go their separate ways. This would be the last time she’d see him and, she told herself, it would finally lay the ghost of their doomed relationship.
Then, at last, she’d be able to move on.
Wasn’t that what she’d wanted all these years?
She drew a sustaining breath and swung around, discovering him closer than she’d thought.
Had he always been this tall?
Tall and broad across the shoulders and chest. She had an overwhelming impression of lean, hard strength, of implacability.
She’d never been nervous around Lex, despite the whispered mistrust of many locals. They’d been wary because he was different with his swarthy looks, unknown background and reclusive mother. But to Portia he’d been a friend, confidant and then finally...
But he’d changed since then. Even those remarkable blue eyes looked different. Once she’d been just as likely to see laughter there as anything else. Now they were guarded.
And that’s none of your business. Say what you have to then go.
‘Lex, I—’
Movement on the other side of the room caught her eye. A man in a dark suit entered from the back of the suite, carrying a large tray.
‘Over here, sir?’
‘Yes, thanks, Mason. We’ll look after ourselves from here. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Very well. Good night, sir, madam.’
He inclined his head and left the suite.
‘You have a butler with you?’ She supposed it was what billionaires did, yet still she was surprised.
Lex gestured for her to sit before handing her a bone china mug that smelled enticingly of rich chocolate and was topped with whipped cream.
‘Mason’s employed by the hotel. One of the perks of staying in the presidential suite. Can you really see me travelling with a butler?’
Portia shook her head. ‘I don’t know you anymore.’
Something flared in those blue eyes that she couldn’t read, then he inclined his head. ‘It’s been a long time.’
He offered her the food the butler had brought. Dainty blinis with smoked salmon and dill, and fragrant quiches so tiny they’d be a mere mouthful. But she was too tense to eat. She shook her head and sipped her drink.
The rich but not overly sweet chocolate was balm to her stretched nerves. She sipped again, wrapping her hands around the mug, soaking up its comforting warmth.
Lex poured a small glass of red wine and took a nearby armchair. He lifted his glass. ‘To old acquaintances.’
Portia raised the mug and sipped but she couldn’t relax. She was caught in a web of old memories and sharp, new sensations. This wasn’t the boy she’d given her heart to so long ago, despite the powerful drag of physical attraction.
But they had unresolved issues. Now she understood why she’d been so on edge these past few weeks. She wouldn’t be able to rest until she set the record straight between them.
‘Do you—?’
‘That night—’
Both stopped, waiting for the other. She felt her heart pound too high and fast. Saw his eyes narrow.
‘What about that night, Portia?’
There it was again, that silken undercurrent in his tone when he said her name. An insidiously strong undercurrent that tugged at the defences she’d built so painstakingly over the years.
She licked her lips and clutched her mug tight.
‘You thought I deserted you that night, didn’t you?’
He stilled so completely it was hard to believe he breathed. ‘You made it clear you’d changed your mind about us.’
Portia shook her head. ‘I didn’t. I was planning to come to you but he stopped me.’
Over the years she’d seen many expressions in Lex’s eyes. Laughter, sympathy, desire, even rapture. She’d seen him angry but never with her. She saw it now, a cold fury that was more daunting for the way he controlled it. Only the tick of his pulse and that searing fire in his eyes betrayed him.
‘You don’t believe me.’
Those straight shoulders shrugged with such insouciance she could almost believe it no longer mattered to him. Except she’d read the ire he held in check.
‘You mean your father? You told me yourself he had no idea about us. What are you saying he did to you?’ Lex drawled. ‘Locked you up in a tower? This is the twenty-first century, Portia, not the Middle Ages.’
Portia slammed her drink down on the low table between them and shot to her feet. She’d expected anger yet his sneering disbelief caught her on the raw.
‘You know Cropley Hall doesn’t have a tower. He used the dungeon.’