Free The Helen Bianchin Collection (Mills & Boon E-Book Collections) by Helen Bianchin

to hide what was an intensely beautiful experience for both of us.’ His thumb probed the swollen softness of her mouth. ‘ Exquisito. ’
    He slid down to lie beside her, gathering her close so that her head nestled beneath his shoulder. With minimum effort he caught hold of the sheet and drew it over them. ‘Go to sleep, querida ,’ he bade her gently.
    Yet she couldn’t, not for a long time. Instead she lay still, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
    Had it always been like this, right from the beginning? Or had it taken time and practice to reach such a pinnacle of sexual satisfaction?
    Sadly, she didn’t know. There was just the aching acceptance that her body remembered what her mind could not.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T HE beach was peaceful, with the merest breeze slipping in from the ocean to caress Elise’s skin and tease the length of her hair.
    The water was a deep blue, its surface smooth in the distance, cresting as it neared the shore to swirl foam-laced over the hard-packed sand.
    A strange feeling of ambivalence held her in its spell…and a degree of sadness. She felt safe here. Secure.
    The past ten days had been idyllic: lazily spent sunshine-filled days and easy companionship, long moonlit nights and gentle loving.
    Tomorrow they were to return to Point Piper. Next week she was to begin physiotherapy, and there were appointments with the obstetrician and neurologist. Within a very short time Alejandro would drive into the city each morning to spend most of each day in his office atop one of Sydney’s inner-city modern architectural masterpieces, and she would be alone…
    An office. Atop a modern city architect-designed building…
    She saw it clearly.
    A large, sumptuously furnished room, clean lines, expensive prints on the walls, and a wide expanseof tinted plate glass with splendid views over the city and harbour.
    An encapsulated vision of a room with a tall, broad-framed figure leaning against the edge of a large executive desk. Alejandro, his expression harsh and forbidding, his silent anger a vivid entity.
    She was there, recapturing her anger…his. Hearing the words with frightening clarity.
    ‘My respect for your father,’ Alejandro declared in a dangerously soft, slightly accented voice that was chilling in its intensity, ‘allowed you to get past my secretary and buy five minutes of my valuable time.’ Dark eyes became icily dispassionate. ‘I suggest you make good use of it.’
    ‘My father doesn’t know I’ve initiated a personal appeal,’ Elise assured him in immediate defence.
    ‘It makes no difference. My decision is irrevocable.’
    The words were clipped, hard, and horribly final. ‘How can you say that?’ she demanded, launching into passionate speech. ‘He deserves——’
    ‘Another chance?’
    ‘Why don’t you let me finish a sentence?’ she parried with mounting antipathy, and encountered his visible cynicism.
    ‘Four minutes and thirty seconds doesn’t allow for verbose explanation.’
    She wanted to hit him. She almost did. Yet there was something electrifyingly primitive beneath his sophisticated façade that warned her that he would retaliate in kind without the slightest qualm.
    ‘Without your help, my father faces bankruptcy,’ she enlightened him starkly, and glimpsed no visible change in his expression.
    ‘I head a multinational corporation which has a complex variety of investments throughout the world. Although I retain a controlling percentage, as director I am responsible to a number of shareholders. Your father’s latest appeal for a further extension resulted in extensive feasibility studies. The findings negate any possibility of directorial board approval for either an increase in borrowings or an extension of time.’
    Elise felt her misgivings increase at his inflexibility. ‘He’s ill,’ she stressed with a sense of desperation. ‘Conclusive tests reveal the necessity for heart surgery.’
    ‘I cannot gamble with my