CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I TRUST I’M not...interrupting anything, because by my calculations Eva and I had an appointment ten minutes ago...?’
Eva gave the handsome Pierre an apologetic smile before turning to face the owner of that coldly sarcastic voice. Michael looked every inch the dark and compelling archangel he was named for as he bore down on where she and Pierre were standing talking together in the reception area of the gallery.
And Michael was right—Eva should have been in his office on the third floor ten minutes ago for that twelve o’clock appointment he had suggested over breakfast this morning. She just hadn’t been able to resist stopping and talking to his assistant manager, when the charmingly flirtatious Pierre had approached and spoken to her as she entered the gallery.
Or trying to pump him for information on Rachel and Rafe while she was about it!
And she hadn’t got very far in that endeavour, had only just got around to casually mentioning her sister’s visit to Paris last year, when Michael so rudely interrupted them.
A Michael, eyes glittering like black onyx, nostrils flared, skin taut over the sharpness of his cheekbones, sculptured lips thinned, jaw tensed, who looked absolutely nothing like the sexily tousled, stubble-jawed man she’d had breakfast with this morning, let alone the sensual and sensitive man who had made such exquisite love to her the evening before...
Michael continued to look down coldly at Eva for several more seconds before turning those glacial black eyes on Pierre. ‘Shouldn’t you have gone to lunch by now?’
Eva drew in a sharp breath at Michael’s coldly cutting tone, pretty sure she was responsible. Michael certainly hadn’t liked her attempt to question his assistant manager three days ago about whether or not he had remembered Rachel from the previous year, or known anything about Rafe’s relationship with her!
‘If you remember, you asked that I take care of Miss Foster’s children during your appointment with her...?’ Pierre now reminded his employer politely.
A nerve pulsed in Michael’s tightly clenched jaw. ‘Then perhaps you should have offered to do that rather than delay Miss Foster arriving promptly for that appointment.’
Eva had heard quite enough—more than enough, when Pierre’s comment made it obvious that Michael was allowing his assistant manager to believe that Sophie and Sam were her children, rather than Rachel and Rafe’s!
‘It’s very kind of you to offer, Pierre.’ She turned to give the Frenchman a warm smile as she touched his arm lightly in thanks. ‘As you can see, my niece and nephew are both fast asleep at the moment.’ She glanced down to where Sophie and Sam slept in the pushchair, their angelic faces revealing none of the mayhem they had caused in Michael’s apartment since their arrival.
The playpen and high chairs Michael had ordered to be delivered had helped to ease some of the strain they had suffered that first evening, when she and Michael had needed to chase the twins all over the sitting room in an effort to prevent them from breaking anything. Michael might have admitted to having no previous experience with babies, but he certainly seemed to know what was needed to make life easier for coping with them.
Or, more likely, he was just trying to protect the priceless artefacts and statuary in his apartment!
Whatever his reasoning, Eva had made good use of the high chairs and the playpen, most especially this morning when, after tidying the apartment, she had been able to put the twins safely in the playpen while she changed to go to her twelve o’clock appointment with Michael.
Which she now wished she hadn’t bothered to keep, when she could literally feel Michael’s brooding disapproval of having found her in conversation with the handsome Pierre. A conversation which, frustratingly, hadn’t as yet yielded any new information on Rachel and Rafe’s relationship...
She ignored Michael’s disapproval as she gave Pierre another warm smile. ‘You know where I am if you should need me.’
‘Of course.’ He returned Eva’s smile with a charming one of his own, at the same time as he seemed to be keeping one wary eye on his employer.
Eva’s smile noticeably disappeared as she turned to look coldly at Michael. ‘Shall we go?’ she prompted tersely, not waiting for his reply as she turned and walked off down the marble hallway towards the stairs that would take them to the upper floors.
Michael managed to catch up with Eva enough in three lengthy strides to be able to take a light grasp of her elbow. ‘Not here,’ he rasped grimly between gritted teeth as she instantly tried to pull away from that hold, his fingers tightening enough to prevent her from doing that without actually bruising her.
Daggers shot out of those violet-coloured eyes as she gave him an angry glance. ‘You behaved like an arrogant boor just now to Pierre!’
Yes, he had, Michael accepted, knowing he had been both rude and overly curt towards the younger man. Although he found his reasons for doing so were a little harder to explain...
His morning at the gallery hadn’t exactly been his finest hour either, as he had snapped and snarled at everyone he spoke to, almost reducing Marie to tears at one stage with his bad temper. Which had only succeeded in making him feel more annoyed, even as he offered Marie his apologies.
Consequently he had been restlessly pacing his office as he waited for Eva to arrive at twelve o’clock, the minutes ticking by slowly once the clock on his desk reached the noonday hour. By eight minutes past twelve Michael had decided to call his apartment, and when he received no answer to that call had hoped it indicated Eva was on her way here, which was when he had decided to go downstairs and wait for her in Reception.
Reaching the bottom of the marble staircase, and seeing Eva in obviously easy conversation with his charming assistant manager, the two of them then laughing together over one of Pierre’s remarks, had made Michael see red.
Or, rather, black...
Because a black tide of displeasure had seemed to sweep over him as he strode purposefully towards the two of them, blocking out all rational or logical thought.
And Michael had absolutely no idea why it was he had reacted in that way...
Except to know he hadn’t liked seeing Eva so relaxed and comfortable in another man’s company. That same ease of companionship Michael had thought he and Eva had uniquely shared together over these past few days.
Until last night...
Last night had changed everything between them, and Michael hadn’t been at all sure that Eva would keep the appointment.
To realise that she had come to the gallery after all, but had delayed going up to his office because she was downstairs in conversation with the too-handsome and too-charming Pierre, had tipped Michael’s already precarious mood over into burning displeasure.
He wasn’t angry...he was jealous!
Michael drew in a sharp, hissing breath at the thought of what that might mean.
Because he knew, despite the circumstances under which they had met and his initial assumption she was a gold-digger, that he liked Eva... Not only was she beautiful, but she was also intelligent. Her conversation was astute and thought-provoking, and her exquisite photographs, most especially ‘Harmony’, proved she was also a gifted photographer.
And, after last night, it would be ridiculous of Michael to even attempt to deny he also desired her.
Added to which, he also admired her for her emotional resilience, after losing both her parents and her sister in so short a time. And he had no doubt about the deep love she felt for the twins—that love perhaps all the more intense because of those other recent family losses?
But to imagine, to think, that he might be starting to have any deeper feelings for Eva was totally unacceptable to him.
It was unacceptable to him to realise he had actually liked, enjoyed, these evenings he and Eva had spent together, playing with the twins before feeding and bathing them and then putting them to bed, before the two of them then sat down to enjoy a leisurely dinner together, along with scintillating and intelligent conversation.
So much so that Michael was aware the apartment was going to feel empty, lonely, once Eva and the twins had returned to England...
That last realisation was especially unacceptable to him!
Michael was never lonely—the opposite, in fact. He had always enjoyed his own company, and valued his solitude. As well as the fact that he was answerable to no one in his private life. Business was a different matter, of course, because there he had a responsibility to Gabriel and Rafe, but in his private life he did exactly as he pleased.
And for the past three evenings it had pleased him to be with Eva and the twins...
‘Take a seat,’ he ground out in invitation once he and Eva had entered his office, closing the door behind them before crossing the room to resume his seat behind the marble desk.
Which was when Michael realised Eva had made no move to do as he asked, his eyes narrowing as he realised how seasonably bright and lovely she looked standing across the room in a sundress of pale lilac, her complexion creamy and smooth, just a pale lip gloss on the full pout of her lips. Her hair was that silky, ebony curtain against the bareness of her lightly tanned shoulders, her legs slender beneath the dress’s just-above-the-knee length, flat white sandals on her feet.
His mouth tightened as he felt his shaft throb in recognition of all that unaffected loveliness. ‘Eva?’
She still didn’t move. ‘You really were incredibly rude to Pierre just now—’
‘I believe you can safely leave my dealings with my staff to me!’ Michael dismissed unyieldingly.
Eva’s eyes widened at the unmistakeable coldness in his tone. Could this man, who looked at her with such cool indifference, really be the same one who had made such exquisite love to her last night? Whose hands and lips had touched her everywhere? Who had tasted her so intimately?
The answer to those questions was no, of course this wasn’t the same man...
This man was every inch the one she had first met, the unapproachable and suspicious Michael D’Angelo, wealthy part-owner of the Archangel galleries, rather than the man who last night had revealed a sensitivity Eva had only guessed might exist.
‘You do know that Pierre is married...?’
She frowned across at Michael, not liking the scorn she detected in his expression. ‘I had assumed so,’ she answered slowly, ‘after you told me he has two children of his own...’
Michael nodded abruptly. ‘I just thought I would make sure you’re aware of that fact.’
‘Michael—’
‘Eva.’
She gave a shake of her head at the hardness of his tone. ‘I don’t think I like what you’re implying.’
‘I’m not implying anything—’
‘Oh, I believe that you are!’ she said with certainty, sure now more than ever that Michael’s obvious distrust of women lay somewhere in his past...
‘Won’t you please sit down, Eva?’ Once again Michael indicated the chair across the desk from his own.
Eva supposed she should be grateful that at least he had said please this time...
She moved slowly forward before perching on the edge of the chair facing Michael across that marble desk, instantly regretting it as she became aware of the way in which it seemed to put more than just the distance of the width of that desk between them, turning this meeting businesslike rather than personal.
As it was meant to?
Of course it was meant to do that, Eva ruefully answered her own question; no doubt Michael was as eager as she was to put their relationship back on an impersonal footing.
She sat up straighter in her chair. ‘I assure you, I have absolutely no personal interest in Pierre.’
‘And I apologise if you thought I was implying anything else.’ Michael nodded brusquely, only too well aware that he had been implying something else, that he had totally overreacted to seeing Eva talking with Pierre.
As aware as he was that he refused to acknowledge the reason for that overreaction...
‘So, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?’ Eva prompted just as briskly.
Michael’s brows rose. ‘I take it you’re not in the mood to exchange pleasantries first?’ he drawled dryly. ‘Polite enquiries as to whether or not we’ve both had an enjoyable, or in my case profitable, morning?’
‘No,’ she dismissed hardly. ‘Could we just get this conversation over with?’ she added impatiently as Michael continued to look at her steadily. ‘It’s getting late, and I want to take the twins to the Eiffel Tower today.’
Michael had been aware that Eva had filled her days by taking the babies around Paris. Where the three of them had been, and the things they had seen, had been part of their conversations over dinner in the evenings.
What surprised him now was the tug he felt to accompany the three of them on this afternoon’s excursion...
The Paris Archangel had been open for eight years now, and Michael had spent at least three years of those eight in the French capital in two-to-three-month periods, and he had long grown accustomed to seeing the historical sights of Paris. In fact, he could see the Eiffel Tower from his apartment.
Which would seem to indicate that his interest wasn’t in visiting the Eiffel Tower at all but in spending time with Eva and the twins...
His mouth tightened at that realisation. ‘I wanted this meeting to take place here at the gallery because I have a business proposition I’d like to discuss with you.’
Eva instantly grew wary as she could think of only one business proposition Michael could possibly have in mind. And after their lapse last night she shouldn’t really be surprised. No doubt, having had the morning to think about it, Michael was now eager for her to leave his apartment.
She gave a shake of her head. ‘I don’t believe you should think about paying me off until after we’ve spoken to your brother—’
‘We aren’t speaking to Rafe, Eva, I am,’ Michael corrected harshly as he straightened abruptly. ‘And I have no intention of paying you off, as you put it, when we haven’t yet established that Rafe is the father of your sister’s children!’
Eva felt the flush of anger in her cheeks at his continued doubting of her claim; Rachel might have been many things, immature and irresponsible being two of them, but she certainly hadn’t been a liar, and before she died she had clearly told Eva that Rafe D’Angelo was the father of the twins. ‘I will speak to your brother myself—’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Michael assured her grimly.
Eva’s eyes widened at the certainty in his voice. ‘You may be a rich and powerful man, Michael, but you can’t prevent me from seeing and talking to Rafe if I want to. And I do,’ she added determinedly.
‘This has nothing to do with how rich or how powerful I may or may not be.’ He sighed heavily. ‘Eva, don’t you think it would be...kinder to Nina, Rafe’s wife, if I were the one to talk to him? Privately,’ he added softly.
The blush deepened in Eva’s cheeks at the quiet rebuke she could hear in Michael’s voice. ‘If I had wanted to make things unpleasant for Rafe’s wife then I would already have done so. Instead I agreed to wait until they return from their honeymoon before talking to him.’
She had, Michael accepted. Because he had asked her to do so.
‘All I want to do is get to the truth,’ Eva added softly.
‘As do I.’ Michael nodded tersely. ‘And I believe we will achieve that more...discreetly, if I’m the one who talks to Rafe.’
Although how the hell Michael was even going to begin to broach the subject of Rachel Foster to his newly married brother, let alone whether or not Rafe could be the father of her twin babies, he had no idea!
Even if Rafe denied it, as Michael seriously expected him to do—his brother might have been something of a playboy before he met and fell in love with Nina, but he certainly hadn’t been irresponsible enough not to have used contraception in all of his previous relationships—then he had no doubt that Eva would demand blood tests in order to prove that denial, further complicating an already delicate situation.
Michael had never seen Rafe as happy as he had been since he fell in love with Nina, and the thought of Eva’s accusations of Rafe’s paternity and the damage it might cause to his brother’s relationship with Nina, made Michael feel physically ill.
But at the same time he felt empathy for Eva’s situation.
He had come to know Eva well enough to know she wasn’t doing any of this out of spite or malice, or any sense of revenge, or with the intention of blackmailing Rafe for money, that she truly was just finding it impossible to financially care for Sophie and Sam, and needed their father’s help to continue doing so. Understandably so, when caring for the twins meant Eva could no longer work at her chosen profession, and the day-to-day care of two babies was an expensive business.
Which left Michael feeling damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
And the stiffness of Eva’s pride told him she would never accept financial help from him, no matter what the outcome of his conversation with Rafe.
‘I really didn’t ask you here to talk about any of that,’ he dismissed evenly.
Eva sighed. ‘Then why did you ask me here?’
His mouth thinned at the weariness of her tone. ‘As I said, I have a business proposition to put to you—it doesn’t involve paying anyone off!’ he bit out as he saw she was about to refuse a second time.
Eva looked at him searchingly for several long tense seconds, but as usual she could read none of Michael’s thoughts from his closed expression. ‘Then what does it involve...?’ she finally prompted slowly, suspiciously.
‘Your Tibetan photographs.’
She blinked her surprise at his answer. ‘Sorry?’
Michael shrugged. ‘You mentioned you had brought back enough photographs of Tibet from your visit there last year for a second exhibition?’
‘Yes...’
‘And you already know that I’m a great admirer of E J Foster’s work,’ he drawled ruefully.
‘Yes...’ Eva felt the warmth enter her cheeks at the memory of exactly how she knew that. Of exactly where she had been, where they had both been, when she had discovered that. And the intimacies that had followed...
Michael nodded. ‘I’m also—conveniently,’ he added dryly, ‘one of the owners of a collection of international art galleries and auction houses.’
‘Yes...’
He eyed her impatiently. ‘Is that “yes” spoken in that less than trusting way going to be your only contribution to this conversation?’
‘That depends...’
Those onyx-black eyes narrowed guardedly. ‘On what?’
‘On exactly where this conversation is going!’ Eva wasn’t sure what else she could say, when she had no idea yet what Michael was leading up to with this conversation. An idea had occurred to her, certainly, but it was such a fantastically unrealistic one it couldn’t possibly be right.
No way Michael would ever want, ever think of suggesting, that she—that E J Foster—consider having an exhibition of her Tibetan photographs in one of the three prestigious Archangel galleries!
No, of course Michael wasn’t suggesting that. It would be madness on Eva’s part to even think that he might—
‘What I’m proposing, Eva,’ Michael bit out evenly, ‘is that you consider exhibiting a selection of E J Foster’s Tibetan photographs in the Archangel gallery of your choice.’