The Helen Bianchin Collection

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HELEN BIANCHIN

Год написания книги

2018

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She ended the call, and endeavoured to focus her attention on a compilation of figures on the computer screen.

It didn’t work. Her concentration was shot, and after making a third mistake she pressed the save key and dialled Nicos’s private line, only to hear a recorded message refer the caller to his cellphone.

Which could, Katrina rationalised, simply mean that he was in an important meeting or out of the office.

With an effort she returned her attention to the work at hand, only to redial the number half an hour later and receive the same response.

Dammit, this was ridiculous. Phone him, then get on with the day!

Nicos answered on the second ring, and his caller ID negated the need for verbal identification.

‘Katrina. Something wrong?’

Considering she never rang him, it was a reasonable assumption.

‘Enrique is negotiating information,’ she said without preamble.

‘And you opted to go straight to the source.’

His voice was a cynical drawl that sent a shivery sensation slithering the length of her spine.

‘Yes.’

‘I took the late morning flight to Brisbane with my lawyer to personally expedite certain legal matters.’

Her stomach tightened painfully. ‘With Georgia.’ She didn’t even voice it as a query.

‘Yes.’

Had she expected him to lie to her? ‘Thank you for the clarification,’ she said with icy politeness, and cut the connection.

Seconds later the phone rang, and she refused to answer.

With cold-hearted determination she finished the day’s work, cleared her desk, caught up her laptop, and left the office ahead of her usual time, amazed that she felt so calm.

Katrina took her car up to street level, then headed towards Double Bay and checked into the Ritz-Carlton hotel.

One night alone wouldn’t contravene the terms of Kevin’s will, she concluded as she glanced around the luxuriously fitted suite. There was everything at her fingertips. She could work from her laptop, order in a meal, and screen any incoming calls on her cellphone.

There was a certain pleasure in calculating the time it would take Nicos to arrive home and discover her absence. How long before he made the first call? Seven o’clock?

Fifteen minutes past, Katrina saw with a degree of satisfaction. She’d changed out of her clothes, phoned her mother, taken a shower, donned the hotel’s courtesy bathrobe, and had eaten a light meal delivered by room service.

She ignored the insistent peal before the call switched to message-bank. His voice when she played it back was curt and controlled.

Half an hour later he called again, and this time there was a degree of anger evident.

By now he would have rung her apartment, and probably Siobhan, who on strict instructions from her daughter, would deny any knowledge of Katrina’s whereabouts.

At what point would he give up?

Not easily, she determined, as she checked the digital screen on her cellphone before taking a call from her mother.

‘Darling,’ Siobhan chided gently. ‘This is most unwise of you.’

‘A temporary lack in wisdom isn’t that big a deal,’ Katrina assured her, and heard her mother’s sigh.

‘Nicos doesn’t know where you are, and you’re not answering your phone.’ There was a brief pause. ‘At least let him know you’re safe.’

Siobhan had a point. ‘If he rings again,’ she agreed in capitulation.

‘He isn’t a man with whom any sensible woman plays games,’ her mother warned.

‘I’m not feeling particularly sensible right now.’

‘Take care, Katrina.’

As an exit line it held connotations she didn’t want to examine, and for the first time in several hours she felt the first prickle of unease.

Something that seemed to magnify when her cellphone pealed fifteen minutes later.

Nicos.

She activated the call, and forced her voice to remain cool, steady, as she relayed, ‘I’m fine. I’ll be home tomorrow night.’ And cut the connection.

When it rang again, she didn’t answer.

She attempted work on her laptop, then gave it up after a frustrating half hour, opting instead to check the television programs.

Choosing an in-house movie, she adjusted the pillows and slid into bed.

The stark realism of the action theme suited her mood, and superb acting added another dimension, capturing her attention almost to the exclusion of all else.

The sudden double knock on the door startled her, and she banked down a momentary stab of fear.

Then common sense overrode apprehension. This was a first-class hotel with tight security.

The assurance didn’t do much for her composure, and she crossed to the door, checked the safety latch was in place, and demanded identification.

‘Room service, ma’am.’

Katrina opened the door a crack to see a uniformed waiter bearing a tray. ‘I didn’t order anything.’

‘As you didn’t use the dining room this evening, ma’am, complimentary evening tea is provided.’

She welcomed the service. ‘Just a moment.’ It only took seconds to release the latch, then pull open the door.

Big mistake. Nicos materialised behind the waiter, looming like a dark angel bent on castigation.