Kiss of Death (Blood Brothers Book 1) Page 2

  “Give me credit for some sense. Let’s just call it a peace offering. Come on, you have to eat.”

  Anna pictured Patrick’s face as he pleaded his case. He had a way of pouting his lips when he begged, an expression that always melted her resolve to stay angry. He knew that she was a sucker for a sob story. She was glad he couldn’t see the effect he still had on her, even after all these years.

  “All right. What time will I meet you there?”

  “I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m. Thank you, Anna. You won’t be sorry.”

  You won’t be sorry. Anna shook her head as she put down the phone. She was already sorry. Sorry that, because of him, she had moved far from the beach to the city where a day at the beach meant a four-hour return journey. Sorry that the only way she could communicate with her father was by phone. And sorry that despite being glad to be home, it took the death of her father to bring her back. Patrick had ruined her life and made it impossible for her to form another romantic relationship. Hell, she could barely form a friendship. He had left her feeling worthless and inferior and, since that fateful day, she had never trusted another man. She balled up her hands and pounded her knuckles against her forehead.

  Why did I accept his dinner proposal? Hadn’t she promised herself she would never have anything to do with that cockroach again?

  She leaned back in her seat and considered her options. She could ring and cancel the date but that might make him suspect that she still had feelings for him and there was no way she wanted him to believe he still had the power to hurt her. The other option was to allow him to pay for a big expensive meal and then make it clear that she had moved on. At least that way she could keep her dignity. She smiled to herself but the smile soon faded when she realized that she had nothing suitable to wear to a fancy restaurant like Stefano’s and little money to purchase a new outfit. Decide, Anna. Which is more important? Food for the rest of the week, or make Patrick squirm? Grabbing her handbag, she headed out the door.

  ****

  The search for the ideal dress proved harder than she had anticipated but finally, in the fifth boutique, Anna found the perfect outfit for revenge.

  “That dress suits you to a tee.” The initially snobby shop assistant exclaimed as Anna watched her mentally calculate the commission. “Your man will be mesmerized.”

  Anna studied her reflection in the mirror, surprised how good she looked, even with her current pallor. The back of the dress dipped low, almost to her waist, showing off the lats that she had worked hard to shape and the deep sapphire blue color contrasted nicely with the paleness of her eyes. Although quite large for her petite frame, her breasts held their shape beneath the folds of the silky fabric without the support of a bra. She ran her hands down her waist, checked the split that rose to her right thigh then turned, inspecting her bottom in the mirror. Not too bad, although she would need to wear a G-string in order to lose those panty lines. Maybe I should really drive him wild and go pantie-less altogether? She shook her head and rolled her eyes, dismissing the idea outright. With her luck, a sudden breeze would probably steal the last smidgen of self-respect she had left. She grimaced as she read the price tag. The dress was perfect but the price would cripple her budget. Even reduced to half price, the dress was well out of her price range. Was torturing Patrick really worth $300?

  “So? Should I wrap it up?” the hopeful saleswoman enquired.

  “What the hell.”

  Anna handed over her MasterCard and stepped back into the dressing room. Silently she prayed the card wouldn’t be declined. It must have been very close to maxed out by now. As luck would have it, Anna left the store with her new purchase in an ostentatious carry bag and thanked her lucky stars that she already had a pair of shoes in a color that would coordinate with the dress. If all went well, Patrick would be cursing his own bad judgement at deciding to jilt her and the evening would be topped off with, hopefully, a huge delicious meal. With what would probably be a week of toast and vegemite as her staple diet, she hoped that tonight’s dinner was going to be worth the sacrifice.

  ****

  “Wow.”

  Anna inwardly smiled as she stepped into Patrick’s Silver BMW. His eyes glazed a little and he blew out a breath. She knew she had achieved the ‘look’ she was after.

  “Wow.” He repeated. His lips parted slightly as he licked his lower lip.

  “You already said that.”

  “I’ll say it again. Wow, Anna, you look gorgeous.”

  “I’d be tempted to thank you if you hadn’t sounded so surprised.”

  “Not surprised, just impressed.” He fastened his seatbelt and pulled away from the curb. “You never wore dresses like that when we were together.”

  “You’d be surprised what things I do now.” She flinched at the double-entendre, knowing that Patrick would use it against her. She was correct.

  “You could bring me up to speed.” Patrick looked Anna up and down. His hungry expression turned her stomach and when he stroked her leg, she knocked his hand away.

  “You gave up that right seven years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. Force of habit,” he mumbled. “By the way, I was sorry to hear about your old man.”

  Anna nodded but remained silent. Not sorry enough to attend the funeral.

  “I heard you inherited his business.”

  So that’s what this was about. Patrick wants something to do with the gym.

  “I inherited less than half of the business.”

  Anna waited for a response that didn’t come. Patrick remained silent for the rest of the trip and she too, had no inclination to make idle conversation. She could sense his disappointment at discovering that she had not inherited a gold mine and despite her resolution to forget him, the revelation still stung. When the car pulled into the driveway of the fancy Italian restaurant, Patrick suddenly reanimated, as if motivated to make an impression. A broad smile spread across his face and his eyes widened with enthusiasm.

  “Here we are.”

  He bolted from the car to open the passenger door and offered Anna his arm before throwing his keys to a parking attendant. She declined his assistance, preferring to walk unescorted up the stairs to the restaurant. Hungry and impatient to find out what Patrick was planning, she took the stairs faster than a woman in six-inch-high heels should attempt and when she reached the top step, she caught her heel in the hem of her dress and stumbled forward, bracing herself for a humiliating face plant into the marble tiles.

  “Careful there.”

  A large hand shot out to support her elbow, catching her effortlessly as she fell, saving her from injury to both her face … and her dignity. The diamond cufflinks were a dead giveaway. Derrick Corel was making a habit of catching her.

  “It would be a shame to ruin such an exquisite dress,” Derrick supported her arm with one hand while unhooking her trapped heel with the other. “And yet, as beautiful as it is, I fear it still doesn’t do you justice.”

  Unaccustomed to compliments and unprepared for the rush of blood to every cell in her body, Anna lowered her head. Words eluded her.

  “Anna, are you all right?” Patrick came dashing up the stairs as Derrick brushed dirt of the hem of the dress, his hand resting for a moment on her thigh.

  “Patrick Miller, I’d like to introduce Derrick Corel … my business partner.”

  “I know Mr. Miller,” Derrick informed her as he turned his back on Patrick and reached for her hand.

  She shivered at his touch as he lifted her hand to his lips. His lips were as cold as his hand. “If you’ll excuse me, Anna, I’m late for an appointment. Enjoy your meal.”

  Anna stared as Derrick walked past them into the restaurant. She could see the maitre’d escort him to a private booth where another elegantly dressed man was already waiting. Although he had saved her from humiliation, Derrick Corel had completely snubbed Patrick. She could hardly believe his attitude. He didn’t seem like the type to look down his nose at others.
She sensed hostility between them. Her interest piqued. Did they have a history? Was Derrick aware that Patrick had jilted her? Why was this man getting under her skin?

  “Shall we?” Patrick once again offered his arm and this time Anna chose to accept his support. She had no intention of repeating the fall, especially while the waiter led them past Derrick’s table. Both Derrick and his guest watched with obvious interest as she walked by and she could feel their eyes on her as she deliberately sashayed her hips.

  “That’s his brother.”

  “What?”

  “The man sitting with your partner … that’s his brother, David.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know he had a brother.” She glanced back. Both men were watching her with intensity. The brother raised his glass and smiled at her. A blush warmed her cheeks. Something in their gazes suggested more than admiration of her dress. What are you up to, Derrick Corel?

  “I bet there’s a lot you don’t know about Derrick Corel.”

  The irritated tone in Patrick’s voice reminded her that she was staring back at the brothers. She turned her attention back to her date. His frown spoke volumes.

  The waiter drew out a chair for Anna and she waited until he had handed out the menus and taken the wine order from Patrick, almost afraid to ask the question that was burning in her mind.

  “I’m assuming there’s something in particular you want to tell me about, Derrick?”

  She took a roll from the basket on the table, broke it in two and was about to spread butter on one half when Patrick reached over and laid his hand over hers. Instinctively, she pulled away almost knocking over the basket of bread. His eyes lowered. He slowly withdrew his own hand and began to tap his fingers on the table.

  “Let’s have dinner first. I have a feeling that the conversation may upset our appetites.”

  Anna nodded. As desperately as she wanted to know more about Derrick Corel she couldn’t ignore the rumbling in her stomach. After maxing out her MasterCard on the dress, she wasn’t about to waste a free feed. The waiter brought the wine, and held it out for inspection.

  “Ceretto 2003 Brunate Barolo Nebbiolo, sir.”

  Patrick checked the label of the bottle and nodded. The waiter poured a small quantity into a glass which Patrick swirled, making a grand gesture of sniffing before tasting. Screwing up his nose in a gesture of distaste, he addressed the waiter.

  “I expected better for $79.”

  “Put the bottle on my tab, Mario…”

  Anna shivered as cold hands rested on her shoulders. Derrick’s touch was intimate, hinting at a relationship. She was tempted to brush them away, until she noticed Patrick’s expression. His nostrils flared and the vein in his temple throbbed. She bit her bottom lip to hide the threatening smile and allowed Derrick’s hands to stay where they were as he addressed the waiter.

  “And please be so kind as to bring a decanter.”

  Mario smiled and made a short huffing sound at Patrick as he left the table leaving Derrick to inform him, “I believe the flavor of the wine will improve if you allow it to breathe, Mr. Miller.”

  “Oh, yes. How careless of me to forget. I must have been distracted by my beautiful companion.”

  Anna suspected that Patrick had no idea of how to treat a good wine. He was no more a connoisseur than she was. The contempt on his face as he stared at Derrick’s hands provided a measure of satisfaction. His gaze still fixed on the hands that hadn’t moved from her shoulders.

  Derrick’s thumbs traced lazy circles on her skin yet despite the chill that spread across her skin and the electricity that prickled every nerve-ending in her body, she made no attempt to shake him off. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the energy emanating from him.

  Yes, there was definitely something dark about Derrick but nothing threatening. She couldn’t imagine him hurting her. Despite his cold touch, she sensed warmth in his soul, kindness. She trembled as a strange feeling ran through her. It was almost a tug at her thoughts, as though someone was trying to read her mind. Anna instinctively blocked the invasion with the protective barrier she had been forced to use many times before. She opened her eyes and the coldness of Derrick’s skin forced her thoughts back to the morgue where her father lay lifeless and waiting for identification. She had been warned that his skin would feel cold but nothing could have prepared her for the icy sensation or the solid smoothness of the husk that had once been her father. Jake Derwent’s soul was gone. She had tried to take comfort in that while she made funeral arrangements, convincing herself that she was not cremating her father, but the body he had once inhabited. Now, faced with the same bitter sensation, she wondered about Derrick’s soul and the darkness that surrounded him.

  “I can understand your loss of concentration, Miller.” Derrick ran his fingertips up and down the outside of Anna’s arms, sending wave after wave of goose bumps through her body as he continued his conversation with Patrick. “Anna does indeed interfere with a man’s capacity to think clearly.”

  Anna’s eyelids fluttered and her body warmed to his touch.

  “Thank you for the wine, Mr. Corel. I don’t want to keep you from your guest.” Patrick hissed. His eyes remained focused on Derrick’s hands.

  “Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t keep my brother waiting.”

  To Anna’s surprise, he bent down and kissed her cheek, his lips lingering tenderly on her face, his cool breath ticking her skin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Anna,” he whispered in her ear.

  As Derrick returned to his table, Patrick stared daggers at the back of her partner’s head.

  “You should stay away from that man, Anna. For your own good.”

  “That sounds remarkably like a threat, Patrick.”

  “No. Oh god, no. Of course not.” Patrick stuttered over the words of his apology. “You know I would never hurt you, Angel.”

  “Once upon a time I would have believed you, but we both know that isn’t true, don’t we?” She raised her hand to silence Patrick before he could argue. “No excuses, Patrick. You hurt me. You really, really, hurt me. Because of you, I felt obligated to move away from everything and everyone I loved…”

  There were many things she wanted to tell this man. Words she had practiced over and over until she knew them verbatim. But, she didn’t want to make a scene in the restaurant and if she finished with the often rehearsed “storming away” scene, she would miss out on her only decent meal of the week. As the waiter returned with the decanter, she waited until he had poured the contents of the bottle into the crystal receptacle and left them alone before she finished her speech.

  “This isn’t the time or the place to finish this conversation, Patrick, so I will wait until a time when we are alone.” She accepted a glass of wine from him and continued. “But don’t you ever call me Angel again. You gave up any right to endearments years ago.”

  “Okay, Anna.” He picked up the menu and read silently.

  Anna did the same, disappointed to find the list in Italian, a language she had never learned. Never having travelled and with no real desire to venture abroad, there wasn’t much point in learning a language she would never need, until tonight. Tonight, she wished desperately that she had some idea what she could order. Something tasty and hopefully very expensive would serve Patrick right.

  “Would you like me to order for you, Ang … Anna?”

  “Thank you, that would be nice.” Under the table she crossed her fingers, hoping that he wouldn’t order something with tentacles or smothered in garlic sauce.

  ****

  “So that’s the infamous Anna Derwent? Cute.”

  “Are you blind, David? She’s breathtaking.”

  David laughed and raised his glass. “Yes, Derrick, she’s definitely a keeper.” He took a sip and gestured back at Anna’s table. “What do you think that is about?”

  “They have a history. Maybe he’s offering his condolences.”

  “Or maybe he’s offering something else?”

&
nbsp; Derrick glared at his brother. “He’d better not try.”

  “Calm down. I’m only pointing out the obvious.” He kept his eyes locked on the couple. “We both know what that rogue wants and I’m sure he won’t give up until he gets it. He obviously believes he can entice Anna into helping him convince us to agree to his proposal.”

  “Anna has more sense than to get involved with him again.” Derrick told his brother while he kept a watchful eye on Anna’s companion. “Jake told me that the bastard crushed her spirit when he left her at the altar. It was his fault that Anna felt compelled to leave town. It almost broke Jake, both financially and emotionally.”

  “They look pretty chummy to me,” David observed.

  “Looks can be deceiving, brother. We both know that very well.”

  “I do know. And we both know that a woman in love does not always act in her own best interests.”

  Derrick nodded and drained his glass of wine, staring at the empty glass as his thoughts drifted back to a time long ago. He understood the implications of his brother’s comment only too well. Their sister had died at the hands of the man she loved. A man she had trusted.

  “I’m sorry, Derrick, I shouldn’t have said that but you should stop beating yourself up about it. There was nothing we could have done to foresee what happened and you aren’t the only one who feels guilty. As the eldest, I should never have left you and Isabelle to follow my dreams in Paris but what’s done is done. We can’t bring our darling sister back. You should be focusing on what’s happening over there.” He motioned over to Anna’s table where Patrick appeared to be going out of his way to impress his date. “That Miller is a persistent little bugger with a reputation for always getting what he wants.”

  Derrick slammed his glass down on the table. “Well he can’t have Anna.”

  “Calm down.” David patted his shoulder. “When it comes to charisma and persistence, no-one can out-charm a Corel.”

  ****

  Anna’s stomach protested the large quantity of wine she had consumed in order to drown out the taste of the greasy, sauce covered whatever the hell that was that Patrick had ordered for her. As she brushed her teeth and swilled water in her mouth to remove the horrid taste, she remembered her father’s term for fancy food. Mucks and messes he used to say. Give me a good old mixed grill any day. She could almost hear his voice reminding her that she had brought this on herself. No good can come from revenge. Despite how much heartache Patrick had caused; she had been foolish to believe that she could convince him that she had moved on. This so wasn’t worth eating toast and vegemite for a week, Anna despaired as she leaned over the bathroom sink.