Read Online The Dark Side of Desire by Julia James - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Julia James
Ads: Link
heart sank.
Oh, no
. To be dragged off to some wretched club—please, no!
But Leon Maranz was shaking his head. ‘I’ve an early start tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I must be making a move.’
Thank God, Flavia found herself thinking fervently. But the next moment she realised she had been premature—disastrously premature.
‘Well, in that case,’ her father was saying, holding Anita closely at his side, ‘I’d be very grateful if you could see my daughter home safely. You’d be all right with that? I’d worry about her otherwise.’
He spoke with his customary public doting fondness that made Flavia cringe at its falsity. And at the implications of what he’d just asked Leon Maranz to do.
She stood up hastily. ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting a taxi,’ she said tartly.
But Leon Maranz had got to his feet as well. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he replied. His voice was smooth, emollient. ‘Of course I’ll see you home.’
Her father was rubbing his hands. ‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘Well, then, if we’re all ready for the off …?’
Stiffly, relieved the ordeal of the charity bash was finally over, but more than dreading the journey back to her father’s apartment, Flavia walked briskly from the ballroom. Could she possibly manage to snaffle a taxi immediately outside the hotel and make her getaway?
But getting away from Leon Maranz when he was on the prowl proved impossible. Leon’s chauffeur was already holding the door of his waiting car open for her, and she had no recourse but to climb in. Thankfully the interior was huge, and she squeezed herself against the far side of the wide seat, hastily drawing the seat belt over her and fastening it, lest Leon Maranz attempt the office himself. But he had simply thrown himself into the other side of the seat, fastened his own belt, and stretched his long legs out into the spacious well behind the glassed-in driver.
A moment later the limo was pulling out into the late night traffic of Park Lane. It would take a good fifteen to twenty minutes, at best, Flavia knew with sinking heart, to get to Regent’s Park.
She wondered whether Leon Maranz was going to attempt any form of conversation with her, but to her relief he merely glanced at her, bestowed a brief, social smile upon her, then took out a mobile phone from his tuxedo and proceeded to make a series of phone calls. All were of a business nature, and Flavia allowed herself the respite of letting her head restagainst the smooth, cool leather of the headrest and close her weary eyes.
She didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see him, long legs stretched out, shirt moulding his broad chest, strong, compelling features animated, as he gave what appeared to be a series of terse instructions to those who were presumably his minions. No, she didn’t want to look at him at all. Wanted to blank him out—write him out of her existence.
In a short while I’ll be done with him and this whole impossible situation will finally be over! I’ll never have to set eyes on him again!
She waited for relief to flood through her—because it must, obviously, at the thought of finally being shot of the man who had caused her nothing but nerve-racking jitteriness all the endlessly long evening.
But it didn’t come.
Instead she felt her eyes flick open, her head turn sideways. Her gaze light on the man who had caused her so much torment.
Out of nowhere she felt her pulse jolt, her throat catch. Her eyes fastened to him, to his aquiline profile, to his features cast into stark relief by the street lights as they moved across his face with the car’s motion. She wanted to gaze at him, not tear her eyes away. Just go on gazing at him. Drinking him in.
She was never going to see him again …
And suddenly—ridiculously, absurdly, insanely—she knew she didn’t
want
never to see him again. Didn’t want to know that for the rest of her life the most she would ever see of this man would be if she
Oh, no
. To be dragged off to some wretched club—please, no!
But Leon Maranz was shaking his head. ‘I’ve an early start tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I must be making a move.’
Thank God, Flavia found herself thinking fervently. But the next moment she realised she had been premature—disastrously premature.
‘Well, in that case,’ her father was saying, holding Anita closely at his side, ‘I’d be very grateful if you could see my daughter home safely. You’d be all right with that? I’d worry about her otherwise.’
He spoke with his customary public doting fondness that made Flavia cringe at its falsity. And at the implications of what he’d just asked Leon Maranz to do.
She stood up hastily. ‘I’m perfectly capable of getting a taxi,’ she said tartly.
But Leon Maranz had got to his feet as well. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he replied. His voice was smooth, emollient. ‘Of course I’ll see you home.’
Her father was rubbing his hands. ‘Good, good,’ he said. ‘Well, then, if we’re all ready for the off …?’
Stiffly, relieved the ordeal of the charity bash was finally over, but more than dreading the journey back to her father’s apartment, Flavia walked briskly from the ballroom. Could she possibly manage to snaffle a taxi immediately outside the hotel and make her getaway?
But getting away from Leon Maranz when he was on the prowl proved impossible. Leon’s chauffeur was already holding the door of his waiting car open for her, and she had no recourse but to climb in. Thankfully the interior was huge, and she squeezed herself against the far side of the wide seat, hastily drawing the seat belt over her and fastening it, lest Leon Maranz attempt the office himself. But he had simply thrown himself into the other side of the seat, fastened his own belt, and stretched his long legs out into the spacious well behind the glassed-in driver.
A moment later the limo was pulling out into the late night traffic of Park Lane. It would take a good fifteen to twenty minutes, at best, Flavia knew with sinking heart, to get to Regent’s Park.
She wondered whether Leon Maranz was going to attempt any form of conversation with her, but to her relief he merely glanced at her, bestowed a brief, social smile upon her, then took out a mobile phone from his tuxedo and proceeded to make a series of phone calls. All were of a business nature, and Flavia allowed herself the respite of letting her head restagainst the smooth, cool leather of the headrest and close her weary eyes.
She didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see him, long legs stretched out, shirt moulding his broad chest, strong, compelling features animated, as he gave what appeared to be a series of terse instructions to those who were presumably his minions. No, she didn’t want to look at him at all. Wanted to blank him out—write him out of her existence.
In a short while I’ll be done with him and this whole impossible situation will finally be over! I’ll never have to set eyes on him again!
She waited for relief to flood through her—because it must, obviously, at the thought of finally being shot of the man who had caused her nothing but nerve-racking jitteriness all the endlessly long evening.
But it didn’t come.
Instead she felt her eyes flick open, her head turn sideways. Her gaze light on the man who had caused her so much torment.
Out of nowhere she felt her pulse jolt, her throat catch. Her eyes fastened to him, to his aquiline profile, to his features cast into stark relief by the street lights as they moved across his face with the car’s motion. She wanted to gaze at him, not tear her eyes away. Just go on gazing at him. Drinking him in.
She was never going to see him again …
And suddenly—ridiculously, absurdly, insanely—she knew she didn’t
want
never to see him again. Didn’t want to know that for the rest of her life the most she would ever see of this man would be if she
Similar Books
