Anna's point of view
Can we talk? Stark, minimum words that cost me dearly, and incurred a probing look.
"There's something you want to discuss?
His voice was a faintly inflected drawl, and I suppressed an involuntary shiver.
I spared him a quick glance and gleaned little from his expression. Assertiveness was the key. "Yes.
"In that case, let's do so over lunch.
Share a meal with him? I really didn't want to spend any more time than necessary. Time was something I didn't have!
He sensed my hesitation, and his eyes narrowed slightly. I looked too slender, my features too pale, and I resembled a cat on hot bricks.
Grief, without doubt, had to be taken into account…but why did he have the feeling it was more than that? A broken romance?
He told himself if he didn't care…and knew it to the untrue. For, despite the intervening years, he still retained a vivid recall of my teenage crush and the method with which he'd dealt with it.
The surprising sweetness of my young mouth; my reaction to his touch; the way I'd felt in his arms, and my uninhibited response.
It had affected him more than he'd imagined possible and left him with a lingering sense of frustration at the knowledge he could have taken me.
What had held him back? Remorse? Guilt? At the time, he'd refused to contemplate thinking it might be anything else…and he'd grasped opportunity with both hands soon after by relocating to New York, where he'd focused on forging his own fortune.
Not unlike the feeling he entertained now.
"We both need to eat, Eric ventured silkily.
Do I have a choice?
"A sandwich and coffee, I conceded, aware it was all I could afford.
"When was the last time you ate a decent meal?
The question came out of left field, and I stiffened at the underlying censure. "In case you've forgotten, I spend my time in the kitchen cooking professionally for a living.
"For clientele.
"The nature of the business," I responded, and incurred his dark gaze.
"An hour or two enjoying a leisurely meal in my company is abhorrent to you?
Difficult. Unnerving. But not abhorrent. I closed my eyes, then opened them again. Of course not.
We were walking along a busy city street, and I hesitated as Eric indicated a restaurant I knew to be ruinously expensive.
"Relax.
Sure. Like I could do that!
The maître d' took one look at Eric, determined an aura of wealth, and ushered them to a well-positioned table.
Within minutes, the drinks waiter elicited our order, and I opted to stay with chilled water, as did Eric.
"Do you have a preference?
Oh God, I didn't want to do this!
"I'm not very hungry.
Eric cast me a brief glance over the top of the menu, then went ahead and ordered the bruschetta, two entrèes, two mains, and intimate desserts that could wait until later.
I opened my mouth to protest, only to close it again as I incurred his dark, unyielding look.
"You really want to argue?
Give it up, a silent voice warned.
The temptation to launch into my request was uppermost if only to get it out there and be done with it—-for the thought of playing polite and conducting a meaningless conversation almost brought me undone.
He looked every inch the man he'd become. Hardened, ruthless, powerful. Someone it would be wise not to toy with….unless you were prepared to face the consequences.
Successful beyond measure, Michael had been known to reveal, with pride, his residence in London and the south of France, to name a few.
While I was almost destitute and in debt to her eyeballs.
Some comparisons!
Did—could— Eric know of my financial circumstances? Probably not. Unless he'd make it his business to find out.
The waiter appeared and placed a platter on the table. The bruschetta was tempting, but, given the state of required concentration.
"Eat, Anna.
To refuse would be churlish, given a banana followed by coffee.
"How long do you intend to stay in Sydney?
He met my gaze and held it. "As long as it takes.
An ambiguous answer that didn't commit him to anything.
Would he comply with the conditions of Micheal's will?
It really was no concern of mine whether he did or not.
I moved the food around on my plate and was so caught up with nerves I didn't trust myself to light my fork.
"You wanted to run something with me? Eric prompted and caught my sudden look of anguish.
This was hard, but I couldn't prevaricate, wouldn't pretend. To explain…and ask.
Which I did, as briefly as possible, whilst outlining only the pertinent facts and my desperate urgency for funds.
The specter facts of the loan shark hovered over me like the sword of Damocles, ever threatening, and poised to fall anytime soon.
Fear consumed me, stretching my nerves to breaking point.
There was nothing to be gleaned from his expression, making it impossible to discern whether he'd view my request favorably or not.
"What amount do you have in mind?
I mentioned a sum, and he didn't even blink.
"You perceive it as a gift?
"No, Genuine shock widened my eyes, and my hands shook slightly as I replaced my water goblet down on the table. "A loan. I closed my eyes, then opened them again.
"Using the shades bequeathed me under the terms of Micheal's will as collateral.
I'd done the math, had agonized and lost sleep over the figures, minimizing them to bare essentials to clear accumulated debts and purchase a vehicle.
"I'll pay you back every cent, with interest.
"Over what time frame?
I relayed an estimation. "Less, I assured him quickly.
" Can utilize the annuity from Cressida's estate and transfer it directly to you.
Eric surveyed me carefully, then offered a silky negative. "No:
My features paled, and my eyes became large stricken pools. I had nowhere to go…no one else I could ask.
Loan sharks lent money on a strictly short-term basis and non-payment wrought dire consequences.
I could feel the germ of anger begin to seed and take hold, sparking into flames that owed much to the past.
Uppermost was the desire to pick up the salt shaker and hurl it at him. I consciously placed my hands on my lap in an effort to control it.
Any hope Eric might honor Michael's verbal assurance of financial help died a natural death, and I rose to my feet, unable to bear so much as another minute in his company.
"Go back to New York and have a nice life.
"Sit down. Dark slate-grey eyes seared mine. "I'm not done.
"I am!
I turned away from the table, and in the next instant a hand closed over my wrist, mama king me as securely as steel restraints.
"Let me go. The words husked from my throat in a low growl, and my eyes flared with brilliant sapphire chips.
This was close, I was supremely conscious of his height and breadth of shoulder, the clean, laundered smell of his clothes, and the faint, teasing aroma of his cologne.
"Sit down…please.
The "please" did little to appease my anger as I glared at him. "Give me the reason why I should.