The Sins of Sebastian Rey-Defoe Page 7

  His critical narrowed glance stilled on the smudges under her eyes that stood out darkly against her pallor before he looked away, reminding himself that any sleepless night she had she had more than earned—in making him the monster she had made herself the victim.

  ‘How about you, Mari? Are you having a good day?’

  Mari lifted her chin. She could hear the malicious mockery in his voice, even if no one else could.

  She gazed up at him, feeling a loathing that she had not known she was capable of. ‘I told myself it couldn’t get worse but here you are...’

  Mari hadn’t been spared his presence. Even on the rare occasions she had managed to drift off into a light troubled sleep he’d been there every night. She was grateful that the details of those feverish dreams had slipped away but the snatches that lingered left a heavy visceral sensation of discomfort in the pit of her stomach.

  ‘Well, this has been delightful catching up, Miss Jones,’ he said with false sincerity designed to aggravate and annoy. The regret he expressed as he glanced towards the suits who had tactfully moved out of hearing distance was equally false and teeth clenching. ‘I’d love to stay and chat but I’m afraid...’

  Mari watched, a hundred insults unsaid as he calmly strolled away without a backward glance, the message clear in the set of his broad shoulders: she was dismissed. She was unimportant; she didn’t even register on his radar.

  Do you want to?

  Ignoring this unhelpful intrusion from her mind, she stood there fighting a self-destructive impulse to chase after him. As much as she really wanted the last word, she knew it would come at a price.

  Even thinking about the price last time sent her pulse racing. She had precious little dignity left, so she didn’t want to throw away what she had for the satisfaction of telling him what she thought of him.

  Gathering her wits, she stood for a few moments after the group, with Seb’s dark head clearly visible above the heads of the shorter men, had vanished through a swinging door.

  Hiding her trepidation under a cheery smile, she stepped into her brother’s room. ‘Hello, how are you feeling?’

  The previous day Mark’s mood had see-sawed between apathy and anger, so it was an intense relief to see the animation in his face.

  ‘So you look better.’ If her voice sounded too bright Mark didn’t notice.

  ‘I am feeling quite good... Take a look at this, Mari.’

  Mari took a seat and began to flick through the glossy brochure that he handed her.

  ‘Do you see what it says about this place? Just look at the statistics, Mari.’ Eagerly he watched her face. ‘Impressive or what?’

  Mari grunted. She was looking at the fees, and there were numbers there that made her heart sink like a stone. ‘Where did this come from, Mark?’ She could not imagine that the hospital went around touting customers for this very expensive private clinic.

  ‘Oh, I had a visitor—he left it for me to look at. Fleur’s brother.’

  Mari managed an expression of surprise, which her brother responded to with a laugh.

  ‘I know, coincidence or what? It turns out he’s on the hospital board or something. He said that this place has 24/7, one-to-one intensive therapy, all the latest technology.’

  She put down the booklet with a sigh. ‘Oh, God, Mark, you know there’s no way we can afford this.’ And it was hard to think of what had motivated Sebastian Defoe to give Mark this unless it was malice.

  Was he really that cruel or vengeful?

  And why was she even putting a question mark after the thought? He obviously was!

  A determined look that Mari recognised all too well slid into her twin’s eyes. ‘There has to be a way—your credit rating is good...’

  Mari, the phone call from the head teacher still very much on her mind, hated bringing her twin back down to earth. ‘You know my job doesn’t pay that sort of money, Mark.’ Nobody went into teaching for the salary. ‘I barely make ends meet as it is.’

  ‘We could sell something.’

  Mari’s heart broke for him. ‘Look, Mark, I’ll do what I can, but I doubt very much in the meantime—’

  ‘I could ask Fleur. Her family is loaded, and Fleur was always saying her big brother takes the responsibility stuff seriously—giving back to the community and all that.’

  ‘His sister said that?’

  Mark, propped up on his pillows, shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, it’s all about appearances, isn’t it? And he can afford it. I thought you could have a word, mention how upset I was after Fleur broke up with me... Don’t blame her or anything, as I get the feeling he’s kind of protective, but—’

  ‘I really don’t think that would be a good idea,’ Mari, horrified by what she was hearing, interrupted.

  ‘Don’t look like that. I’m not asking you to ask him straight out for money—you can be more subtle than that. You know, play up the sob story, flutter your eyelashes, do the weak girlie thing.’

  Mari got to her feet; she was feeling sick. ‘I couldn’t do that.’

  ‘You’d prefer that I end up in a wheelchair for life!’

  ‘That doesn’t have to happen, Mark. You know that the doctors have said with hard work and determination... I know it’s a long haul, but I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

  ‘Why does it always have to be hard work? I know you’re proud to be poor and everything, but I’m not. Why shouldn’t I have it easy for once in my life? I have never asked you for anything in my life, Mari...’ He saw her expression and stopped. ‘All right, maybe a couple of times.’

  Mari picked up the brochure. ‘I’ll see if I can work something out, but I’m not begging for money from Sebastian Defoe.’

  ‘You’re too proud to beg?’

  ‘It’s not about pride, Mark.’

  ‘Yes, it is!’ he flared back bitterly. ‘You’ve always been the same. You can’t ask for help. You always have to do things the hard way. Well, it’s easy for you to have pride—you can walk out of here.’

  Her brother held her eyes for ten silent reproachful seconds before he turned his face to the wall.

  ‘Mark, I’m sorry.’

  Almost in tears, Mari left five minutes later, Mark still refusing point-blank to speak to her. He hadn’t given her the silent treatment since they were children, and then sometimes he had kept it up for days.

  * * *

  As she walked along the hospital corridors Mari struggled to think past the awful sense of helplessness. She couldn’t get the image of the silent reproach in her brother’s eyes out of her head and it left her with a sick sense of helplessness that was crushing.

  The doctor had caught Mari before she left the ward. She had really struggled to respond positively when he’d pronounced himself cautiously optimistic about her brother’s prognosis; he’d gone on to emphasise how important a positive mental attitude was in these cases and how easy it was for patients to become depressed.

  Outside she took several deep gulps of fresh air. Mark was right: she could go home but he couldn’t.

  As much as she loved her twin she was perfectly aware that his impatience meant he always went for the quick fix. Their foster parents used to tell him there was no magic pill that cut out the hard work, but now he was convinced there was a magic pill. A carrot had been dangled and he couldn’t have it, but while he knew it was there he’d never settle for hard slog.

  Lost in her own thoughts, she barely noticed the drizzle that had begun to fall as she cut across the bay reserved for ambulances, and then across a half-empty area with reserved parking spaces, people who were too important to make the long trek to the overflow parking area for the hospitals.

  ‘So how was your brother?’

  Mari let out a shriek as the tall figure vaulted from a low-slung car that had power statement written all over it.

  Had he been waiting for her? It didn’t matter—she had a chance to tell him what she thought of him.

  ‘Are you some sort
of sadist?’

  The sight of her walking out of the building had shaken loose an emotion that he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge. Her body language had been so defeated, her slender shoulders so hunched she had looked as though it was an effort to put one foot in front of the other.

  The contrast now as she stared up at him, blue eyes blazing, bosom heaving, her sensational, soft, full lips quivering with emotion as she launched into attack mode, was dramatic.

  Seb was a man who valued control and moderation but she really was made for full-blown passionate excess... She was stunning, but then so was a hurricane, and he had never felt the desire to chase one or throw himself blindly into its path. Encounters with hurricanes needed to be carefully planned.

  ‘I like that in you—you waste no time on pleasantries. You get right to the point. I’m the same way myself,’ he drawled. ‘It saves so much time.’ He held open the door of his car, revealing the plush leather-clad interior. ‘Do you want to sit down and catch your breath?’

  ‘You don’t make me breathless!’ Exasperated that her response had managed to imply the exact opposite, she gritted her teeth.

  ‘Really?’

  She stuck out her chin and stubbornly held his eyes. ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘I must be losing my touch.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. You seem to be on top form,’ she sneered angrily. ‘Presumably seeing my brother in a hospital bed wasn’t good or rather bad enough for you? No, you have to raise his hopes and leave me to crush them,’ she choked, fighting back a sudden sob and finishing on a shaky quiver of husky despair. ‘I’m sick of being the bad guy.’

  Catching the thoughtful expression in his watchful dark eyes, she immediately regretted the bitter addition, and you couldn’t really compare this situation with all the little things like telling Mark he couldn’t ask their foster parents for the expensive trainers he wanted when they were kids.

  ‘Then why do you let him do it?’

  Thrown off balance by the soft question, she stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Why do you let your brother play you like...? Whichever way you look at it, it isn’t healthy—a grown man letting his sister fight his battles.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s emasculating, not to mention manipulative.’

  The casually voiced observation whipped angry colour into her cheeks. ‘Are you calling me manipulative?’ she asked in a low, dangerous voice.

  ‘No, I’m calling your brother manipulative.’

  Immediately defensive, Mari lifted her chin. ‘My brother didn’t...doesn’t know about me crashing your wedding.’ She bit her lip and added with a husky question mark, ‘I’d like it to stay that way?’

  This was not news to Seb, who considered himself a pretty good judge and had recognised the shallow insincerity behind Mark’s smile the moment they had met. If the brother had known he had no doubt the younger man would have immediately tried to distance himself from his sister’s actions.

  ‘So you’re asking a favour from me...?’

  She shrugged and said in a flat little voice, ‘Stupid idea.’

  Experiencing an inexplicable impulse to live down to her expectations of him, he almost asked, ‘What’s it worth?’

  Instead he found himself extending his hand.

  Not in the plan, Seb, said the voice in his head.

  Mari drew a tense breath but didn’t step back. She couldn’t—her feet were nailed to the floor. She stood there quivering as he touched her cheek, only lightly with his forefinger, but there was an element of compulsion about the way he drew a line down the soft downy curve of her cheek, his eyes following the action—then he repeated it.

  ‘You think I put a price on everything?’

  Hot desire pulsed through her body. Her response to the casual intimacy was frightening, exciting and humiliating all at once. It was so tiring fighting, not just him but the way he made her feel. For a split second she let herself wonder what it would be like to stop fighting.

  ‘Don’t you?’ she asked, her reaction as his hand fell away ambivalent at best.

  ‘I won’t tell your brother about your wedding-crashing exploits.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her relief was heartfelt, but her worried frown lingered. He said that now, but what if he changed his mind?

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m considered a man of my word.’ He saw her eyes widen in alarm and gave a low chuckle. ‘You really should never ever play poker.’ Unless it was not for money and with him, he thought, warming quite literally to the idea of a slow striptease.

  ‘I know Mark is bound to find out sometime,’ she admitted. ‘But it would be easier later. He’s not even speaking to me right now.’

  ‘You know, if you’re not careful you’ll spend your life—’ He shook his head and finished abruptly. ‘No, correction, you won’t have a life of your own.’ The thought made him angry.

  Confused by the strength of the disapproval she could feel coming off him in waves, she arched an interrogative brow. ‘And you care why exactly?’

  A startled look chased across his lean face. ‘I don’t,’ he denied, and shrugged. ‘For all I know you enjoy it. Maybe it’s symbiotic.’ Displaying his white teeth in a smile that didn’t reach his deep-set eyes, he leaned in and flicked her cheek with his finger. This time there was nothing seductive about the gesture. ‘Slice Mari Jones and you’ll find martyr running all the way through.’

  She turned her chin away, hating his sneering suggestion and the way her body was betraying her by reacting to the sensual aura he projected.

  ‘Slice Sebastian Rey-Defoe and you’ll find sadistic bastard all the way through?’ she countered angrily. ‘You knew when you gave Mark the details of that place that we don’t have the sort of money that it costs—you expect me to believe you did that out of the goodness of your heart?’

  Was his cruelty casual or calculated? Mari couldn’t decide which was worse.

  ‘I’ll pay for the treatment.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HOPE FLARED BUT was immediately swallowed up by a depressing wave of realism. He was no fairy godmother. It would be hard to think of a less appropriate analogy, even if he had been oozing the milk of human kindness instead of a headache-inducing level of testosterone.

  ‘And afterwards,’ he continued, ‘I will fund any physical therapy and aftercare.’

  When things sounded too good to be true there was often a very good reason.

  ‘Why?’

  She was unable to stop herself—her hostile gaze slid up the impeccably tailored length of him, but she knew during the journey over dark grey suit, white shirt and narrow burgundy tie that it wasn’t hostility that made her stomach muscles tighten and quiver, which was stupid because she had never gone for the ‘groomed to within an inch of his life’ look. It always suggested a vanity that she didn’t find attractive. And he was so groomed he could have stepped right out of one of those glossy ads, the sort that suggested that if you bought the car, the fragrance, the shampoo, you, too, could look like this.

  Only you wouldn’t. There might be a few pale imitations but Sebastian was definitely a one-off, and in her opinion one too many. All the same, to look at him was... She just stopped herself sighing; the light flush along the high, smooth curve of her cheekbones she could not control... He would have been easier to tolerate had there been a single thing to criticise. Physical perfection when it came with a massive sense of superiority was not attractive.

  Tell that to your hormones, Mari.

  The suggestion of a smile touched his expressive lips as he studied her face. ‘Don’t worry, there are no strings.’

  She lifted a hand to brush away the heavy strand of dark red hair that a gust of wind had plastered across her face, the same gust that ruffled his close-cropped dark hair up into attractive spikes.

  ‘I wouldn’t accept charity from you if my life depended on it!’ she told him in a clear, confident voice.

  His brows lifted. ‘You c
an pay lip service to your pride if you want, but it’s not your life we are talking about, is it?’

  She flushed at the quiet reprimand. ‘We have a more than adequate health service.’

  It was irrational to be irritated by her attitude considering his entire plan rested on her stubborn pride.

  ‘True, but it is also overstretched. Taking your brother out of that system would free up a bed and cash to allow another person to be treated.’

  ‘One who doesn’t have a charitable benefactor? Thanks but no, thanks.’ She shook her head and looked at him coldly. ‘We pay our way and we don’t accept charity.’

  ‘Then don’t call it charity, or are you willing to put your pride ahead of your brother’s well-being?’ And now who is being manipulative, Seb?

  Close on her brother’s accusation his comment really stung. Mari swallowed, suddenly struggling to force the words past the aching occlusion in her throat. She wouldn’t cry, not now, not in front of this man.

  ‘Call it a loan.’

  Mari’s hope flared and died; she had seen the figures in the glossy brochure. ‘We would never be able to pay it back.’ But could she really sit back and watch her brother struggle back to health when she could have made it so much easier?

  He angled a dark brow. ‘I got the impression that your brother has an entirely more pragmatic attitude than you...towards charity? I could have been wrong...?’

  He wasn’t, damn him. If she refused this offer Mark would never forgive her, and if she took it she would never be able to live with herself.

  It was a lose-lose situation.

  ‘Why didn’t you just make this offer to him? Why did you have to bring me into it at all?’

  ‘I wanted to see if you are as stubborn and proud as I thought you were—you are.’

  ‘So this is some sort of twisted test? Presumably I failed so now you punish both of—’

  His voice was gravelled with irritation as he cut across her. ‘I have no desire for revenge on your brother, and unlike you I don’t think collateral damage is legitimate.’ He allowed her guilty flush to develop before finishing softly, ‘If I want to punish you I will.’