Title: Planning a Revenge Chapter 7
Author: Ashley
E-mail: Nuriko56@hotmail.com
Standard Disclaimer Apply


"And that's is, then?"
	Rita couldn't have sounded more but put out if it had been her own love
affair that had finished, Serena thought wryly--not that her relationship 
with
Darien Chiba had embodied either love or an affair in its make-up, not on 
his
side anyway.
	"Afraid so." Serena forced a bright smile. "And so I'll be able to look
Raye and Nancy in the face again without any skeletons in the cupboard."
	"Blow Raye and Nancy." Rita frowned at her, clicking her tongue
irritably. They were standing in the tiny kitchen at the back of the 
building,
Rita having dragged her there after her entrance back into the office on the
pretext of making some coffee. "But why do you think he'd given up, then? 
What
happened today?"
	"Nothing." Serena shrugged carefully. "Nothing at all."
	It could have been Rita's female intuition, or perhaps Serena's
beetroot-red face and faintly pink eyes had more to do with the other girl's
reply of, "And pigs might fly! Serena, I saw his face when he was glaring at
poor Melvin. I thought there was going to be a riot. Now don't tell me a guy
like Darien Chiba gives up the hunt without a damn good reason," Rita 
finished
scathingly.
	"Rita, I don't want to discuss it," Serena said firmly.
	"All right, forget the gory details, but you must see this is a one-off
opportunity," Serena? Unattached millionaires with the sort of looks Darien
Chiba has, and who fancy the pants off you to boot, don't exactly come by on
every number ten bus, even for girls as gorgeous ad you."
	"I mean it, Rita." Serena had had about as much as she could take
without explaining herself to Rita.
	"It's only because I love you, you know." Rita suddenly looked
distinctly pathetic, but Serena had seen her use that ploy too often with
Andrew to be taken in. "You've such a rotten deal, I would love a bit of 
good
luck to come your way."
	"Rita, Darien Chiba is not good luck," Serena stated positively. "In
fact he's---"
	"Before you embarrass us both by listing what I am sure was going to be
a catalogue of my attributes, could I have a word?"
	The completely expressionless, deep, cold voice from the small hall
separating the front office from the kitchen brought both women's heads
swinging round as though connected by a single wire, and if Serena thought 
she
had been embarrassed before, it was nothing to how she felt when she saw
Darien standing in the doorway.
	"Your husband assure me it was okay to come through," Darien continued
quietly, speaking directly to Rita now, who was as red as Serena. "I want to
speak to Serena in private."
	"Oh, of course--of course." For the first time Serena could remember
Rita had been reduced to a gibbering idiot, but she was far too perturbed by
the tall, dark man standing in front of them to dwell on her friend's lack 
of
composure. "I'll just go and…I'd better…I'll leave you to it," Rita finished
weakly.
	Once Rita had scuttled away, closing the kitchen door behind her with an
apologetic grimace at Serena behind Darien's back, Serena waited for the
explosion, watching Darien warily as he walked across the small room to 
stare
out of the window into the tiny walled yard the property boasted.
	"What was the rotten deal?" His voice was soft, very soft, and so
completely at odds with what she had expected that she found herself gasping
at him, her mouth wide open, as he turned to face her. And it was in that
moment that her love for him rose up in such an incredibly fierce flood that
she had to turn her head, petrified he would read the truth in her eyes.
	"Serena?" His mouth was still very soft. "I'm not going to touch you, or
make you do anything you don't want to do, but if you can tell me I'd like 
to
know."
	"I can't." it was a small, broken whisper, and if she had been looking
at him she would have seen the dark, handsome face tightened and his eyes
narrow at her distress.
	There was complete silence for a moment, and then he said, slowly and
distinctly, "Okay. Wells, perhaps you can answer this, then. 
This…antipathy…is
it purely against me, or all men?"
	This time the silence stretched until it was as taut as piano wire, and
he had just given up all hope of her answering this when she said, so softly
he could barely hear, "I…I haven't dated anyone in five years."
	He couldn't speak for a moment, a mixture of emotions tearing through
his body. There was fierce relief that wasn't him in particular she had an
aversion to, but her whispered divulgence brought up a whole host of other
questions, none of which he could ask. Instead he said, "And you don't see
that changing?"
	She raised her head now, looking him straight in the eyes and keeping
her voice steady. "No, I don't," she said softly.
	Over his dead body. He kept his face perfectly expressionless, nodding
slowly. He could have taken her back there in the apartment, and she would
have been with him every inch of the way. His body stirred, hardening at the
memory. Whatever had happened, whoever this man was who had hurt her in some
way and put her of the whole male sex, she had still wanted him. Darien 
Chiba,
to make love to her. And he intended to. This thing wasn't over, not by a 
long
chalk.
	"Why…why did you come back?" Serena asked carefully, after moments had
crept by and he still didn't speak.
	"You left your handbag in the car." He had something tucked under his
arm but she hadn't noticed, and now he reached out and passed her the bag.
	"Oh--oh, thank you," she stammered. "I--I didn't realize." Her face was
hot and flushed.
	"And I want to ask you about this weekend," he continued smoothly. "We
didn't arrange the time for me to pick you up."
	"Pick me up…?" she repeated confusedly.
	"Shall we say seven tonight? Amy and I usually eat at eight-thirty, so
that will give you time to freshened up before dinner and get settled in." 
He
smiled at her, an open, innocent smile that didn't fool her for a minute.
	"I didn't say I was coming," she protested quickly. "And after all that
happened--" She stopped abruptly, frowning at him as he stared at her
perplexedly, one eyebrow quirking in bewilderment.
	"All that happened?" he repeated with suspect artless. "I don't
understand?"
	"At…at the apartment," she persisted nervously.
	"I'm still not with you," he said musingly. "As far as I'm aware,
nothing happened that would prevent you spending the weekend with Amy." His
voice was cool and silky soft.
	Oh, she hated him. She did, she hated him. Serena wanted to give in to
the childish impulse to stamp her foot, but restrained herself, knowing it
would only delight him. So, as far as Darien was concerned this morning was
mere history and forgotten? He could dismiss it as easily as that? Well, it
hadn't meant anything to her either. It hadn't. "Fine." Her smile was 
brittle.
"If I can be of help to Amy, of course I'll come."
	"That's settled then." It was said with such satisfaction that she
realized immediately she had walked into one of Darien Chiba's traps. It was 
a
tactic he used in business, and ruthlessly--her earlier research on him had
proved that without a shadow of doubt--and now he had applied the same 
cunning
with her.
	She glared at him, too proud to take back her words and too angry to try
and pretend she was happy about the situation.
	"What a little firebrand you are." His voice was tender now, with that
deep, husky timbre that made her legs weak, but she was determined he wasn't
going to have it all his own way.
	"Because I don't always do exactly as you say?" she asked tightly. "Like
the rest of the world?"
	"A slight exaggeration, but I appreciate your faith in my sovereignty,"
he said mockingly.
	"You certainly act like a king with his subjects," she fired back
furiously. "I've never known a man like you."
	"Thank you." He bowed slightly, whilst keeping piercing blue eyes fixed
on hers. "My first compliment to date."
	"It wasn't a compliment and you know it," she muttered angrily, knowing
she wouldn't win in a war of words but unable to admit defeat. "You're just
impossible."
	"I've been called worse." He grinned, her capitulation regarding the
weekend giving a luminescence to the icy-blue eyes that was like the
brilliance of a cold winter sky with the sun behind it.
	"I bet," she agreed savagely.
	"Now, now, smile nicely and be respectful while we join the others,"
Darien mocked softly. "I have my reputation to think of, you know, and the
rest of the world thinks I'm wonderful."
	"Huh." It was weak, but then she'd known that razor-sharp mind was way
ahead of her, Serena seethed quietly, as Darien followed her out of the
kitchen and into the office beyond.
	The anger lasted all the time and she watched him charm Rita and Andrew,
and even bring a reluctant smile to Melvin's face. Darien was putting 
himself
out to be amusing in the same way he did everything--brilliantly--but the
moment the door closed behind him, she wanted him back. Stupid, crazy,
suicidal--yes, it was all of those things, Serena admitted to herself as she
sat at her desk and pretended to work, but she couldn't help it. She loved
him. She only really came alive when he was around, even if most of the time
they were like two gladiators in the arena.
	And she should never have agreed to stay the weekend at Greenacres. The
churning in her stomach increased with the thought. This was all a game to
him, and no doubt he was enjoying the novelty of the chase, but it wasn't 
like
that for her.
	Darien was used to women who was quite happy to play by his rules--
worldly-wise, sophisticated women, who could remain friends with him after 
the
affair was over, perhaps even he him now and again and share a long and
amorous night of passion without any sentiment for what once had been 
getting
in the way. She bent her head over an open file and blinked back the tears
that were pricking the back of her eyes; she had brought all this on 
herself--
that was the worst thing of all to face. And now she felt like the tiny 
insect
caught in a sticky web from which there was no escape…
	The rest of the day went horribly wrong--a series of incidents meaning
Serena was galloping along Crayfield Avenue and into her house at ten to
seven, with Darien arriving to pick her up at seven. She flew round the 
flat,
stuffing clothes and her overnight things into a small suitcase, but was 
still
in the middle of changing--without having even so much brushed her 
hair--when
a ring at the doorbell downstairs heralded his arrival.
	He pulled don a pair of grey leggings, followed by a mid-thigh-length
ivory cashmere jumper she meant to team with matching boots, but was still 
in
bare feet, her hair a mass of riotous blonde curls about her shoulders, when
there was a knock at her front door.
	"Darn it." She glanced desperately round the chaotic disorder of her
bedroom and then, when the imperious summons sounded again, sighed 
irritably.
She'd just have to let him in and get him to wait until she was ready. But 
she
hadn't want him in her home. Until now she had always been waiting for his
car, to avoid just this situation. It was silly, but she hadn’t want to be
able to picture him in the flat once he was out of her life for good--as he
soon would be--and also her home was part of her. She had painted the walls,
chosen the furniture, designed and had installed the tiny kitchen--her home
said a lot about her, and she hadn't wanted it exposed to that shrewd,
formidably intelligent mind. It made her feel so vulnerable.
	She shut the bedroom door quickly and padded along to the front door,
aware of her dishevelment but not having the time to do anything about it.
	"Hi."
	A bolt of electricity caused every cell and nerve-ending to jump as she
opened the door and saw Darien standing there. He was more casually dressed
than she had ever seen him before, the black jeans and heavy black leather
jacket emphasizing his dark, alien attractiveness and formidable height, and
causing her stomach muscles to curl and contract.
	"Hello." Her smile was nervous. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite ready. There
was panic after panic at work this afternoon."
	He nodded lazily. "Do you want me to wait in the car?" he asked softly.
	He knew. He knew she didn't want him inside the flat, Serena thought
weakly. She opened her mouth to say yes, but instead found herself saying,
"No, of course not. Come in a moment. I won't be long," as she stepped back
from the doorway.
	Immediately he stepped into her tiny hall the flat seemed to shrink in
size, his powerfully compelling aura strong and virile in her little home. 
He
seemed even more dangerous, even more threatening than normal, Serena 
thought
weakly, his dark magnetism of a type that caused little shivers of awareness
to flicker up and down her spine.
	"What is it?"
	She must have been staring at him, because his voice was faintly
surprised when he spoke, although there was a lazy, mocking quality that
intimated he knew how wary she was.
	"Nothing." She smiled brightly, waving him through to the beautiful
little blue and gold sitting room that was the essence of the flat. He 
hadn't
quibbled about the expense of anything for this room; she had wanted an
atmosphere of beauty and peace and light, and the exquisite little room, 
with
its tiny balcony festooned with pots of Japanese anemones, Michaelmas 
daisies,
dwarf salvias and bright golden-yellow cornflowers, was a rebellion against
the difficult, soul-searing days at university. "I won't be long," she said
breathlessly, indicating for him to be seated on the handsome little 
Victorian
sofa as she spoke.
	He didn't move from the middle of the room, where he had come to a halt,
remaining quite still for a long moment before he turned to look at her in 
the
open doorway. "This is quite beautiful, Serena," he said, with a deep,
appreciative softness that stroked at her overwrought nerves.
	"Thank you." She was surprised how much it mattered. She had told him
the bare outline of her childhood--her parent's death and the subsequent
upbringing with her aunt and family--over Sunday lunch at the quaint little
pub some weeks ago, so now she added simply, "I wanted something that was 
all
mine."
	"I can understand that." He smiled, and she felt the need to escape to
the privacy of her bedroom and compose herself before she committed the
unforgivable mistake of flinging herself wholesome into his arms. But he 
just
looked so utterly, overwhelming gorgeous, and she loved him so much.
	"I…I won't be long," she said again, her voice breathless.
	"Don't worry, I can be patient when I have to be," he murmured with
silky intent, his blue eyes piercing her defenses.
	Serena looked at him in something of a daze before she nodded quickly
and backed into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind her. Oh, he was
dangerous. He was so, so dangerous. And she had virtually put her head in 
the
lion's mouth, she thought despairingly. Well, it was too late now. Much, 
much
too late--on several counts.
Darien said very little on the drive to Greenacres, which was just as well.
Serena was having enough difficulty in co-ordinating her breathing in the
close confines of the Ferrari, without having to worry about making coherent
conversation as well, and she was petrified the trembling in her body would
communicate itself to her voice if she tried to talk. And he would love that
boost to his ego, she thought despairingly--knowing that he had reduced her
into a shivering wreck.
	Amy was waiting for them when Darien ushered Serena into the elegant
drawing room at Greenacres, and the other girl's pale, drawn face brought an
immediate surge of compassion, mingled with guilt, into Serena's chest.
	This must be a terrible time for Amy, Serena thought sympathetically,
bending over the wheelchair and hugging Darien's sister before she sat down
herself. With the moment of truth regarding the pioneer treatment 
approaching
fast, the breakdown of her marriage and the sale of her home, added to the
often unpleasant side effects the drugs induced, she must be reaching the 
end
of her tether.
	Darien had confided that most of his sister's friends had fallen by the
wayside due to Chad Mitchell's manipulative control over his wife, and that
Amy's youthful aspirations for a career in medicine had been put on hold--
along with her life, it seemed--on her marriage. What havoc men could cause.
The thought tightened Serena's soft lips, and she had to make a conscious
effort with her voice as she said, "It's so nice to see you again, Amy. I
missed you the last time I was here."
	"I'll let Amy to settled you in," Darien put in smoothly, "if you don't
mind. I've one or two urgent calls to make, and there's a fax in my study 
that
needs examining."
	"Go on, go on." Amy was smiling up at her brother and, like before,
Serena was touched by the love and understanding between the two siblings. 
"He
never stops working," Amy continued as Darien turned to leave. "I'm sure 
that
fax goes to bed with him most nights."
	"I don't get any offers these days." It was flung over his shoulder as
he opened the door, but he didn't look back, for which Serena was eternally
grateful, hot color flooding her face until her cheeks burnt.
	Why did he have to reduce everything to that one basic desire? Serena
asked herself silently as she made small talk with Amy. But she knew why. 
This
powerfully emotive feelings them, heightened by love on her side and sheer
old-fashioned lust on his, was all-consuming. In the last few weeks it was 
in
every sunset that blazed across the night sky, every melodious bird song, 
even
the fine tracery of a glittering spider's web covered with dew that she had
seen on her way to work that morning. She couldn't escape him. She would 
never
be able to escape him…
	By the time Darien came to take the two women through to dinner, some
forty minutes later, Amy had confided most of her deepest anxieties to 
Serena,
a fact she only seemed to become aware of as her brother strolled into the
room.
	"Oh, I'm sorry, I've done nothing but talk about me," Amy said quickly
as she looked at Serena with puppy-dog sad eyes. "I'm not normally like 
this--
-in fact I find it difficult to talk to people at all--but you're 
different."
	"Isn't she?" Darien agreed softly, his voice deep and slumberous as he
looked down on the mass of silky golden curls.
	Serena searched for something light to say, but lucid thought evaded
her, mainly because of the lean, masculine body just inches away. He had
discarded the leather jacket on entering the house, and his black silk 
shirt,
open at the neck and with slightly gathered sleeves, emphasized the broad
shoulders and muscled chest more than if he had been naked. Naked…Serena
flushed violently and jumped to her feet like a spring, causing both Darien
and Amy some surprise. "I'm starving." Her voice was too shrill, and she 
tried
to cover the fact with a bright smile.
	"Then the reputable Mrs.Kino has the perfect remedy," Darien said
smoothly, allowing Amy to precede them in her motorised chair. "If it's food
you're referring to," he added softly, when his sister was out of earshot.
"Otherwise, I'd be glad to personally satisfy your appetite…"
	"In your dreams," she snapped back sharply, hating him, loving him.
"Satisfy your appetite." That was all making love with her would mean to 
him--
an animal need sated, she told herself bitterly. And she'd known it form day
one, so it shouldn't so much.
	"Ah, now, my dreams." He seemed quite unmoved by her ill-humor. "Remind
me to tell you about my dreams some time," he murmured lazily, taking her 
arm
as he spoke.
	"Your dreams are nothing to do with me," Serena said cuttingly.
	"Serena, my dreams are everything to do with you." He folded her into
him as they walked through to the dining room after Amy, his arm a bad of
steel around her waist, and she found she couldn't argue with him anymore. 
Not
with his thigh against hers and the faint seductive smell of him teasing her
nostrils and inflaming her senses.
	Dinner was a delicious affair of five courses, and by the time coffee
was served by the beaming Mrs. Kino, who was well pleased with Serena's
enthusing over the meal, Serena was full to bursting.
	"Do you always eat like this?" she asked Darien in astonishment, her
gaze moving innocently over his lean frame.
	"Always," he assures her solemnly, only relaxing into an amused smile
when Amy protested.
	"Don't believe him, Serena. Unless we have guests for dinner, Darien let
Mrs. Kino have the evening to herself. She either prepares something for us
earlier, or Darien cooks us a meal."
	"You?" Serena couldn't have looked more astonished if he had suddenly
spouted horns and a forked tails, and his quirked eyebrows reflected his
acknowledgement of her amazement when he murmured, "Monsters shouldn't be 
able
to cook, eh?"
	"Monsters!" Amy laughed lightly, totally oblivious to any undercurrents.
"You're the most unmonster-like person I've ever met. Impatient, maybe,
untidy, definitely, and the worst perfectionist I've ever come across in my
life, but you're as soft as a marshmallow on the inside. Don't you think so,
Serena?"
	Serena was completely taken aback, and it showed in her half-open mouth
and blank eyes as she stared at Darien's sister, utterly lost for words.
	How long she would have continued to sit there in mute helplessness if
Darien hadn't taken pity on her she didn't know, but when he smiled lazily,
and said, "Oh, Serena is my greatest admirer, Amy" his sister nodded 
happily,
before applying herself to her cheese and biscuits, clearly having received
the answer she expected.
	"Serena is my greatest admirer." Serena stared at the dark, mocking face
across the table for a long moment before smiling carefully and taking a sip
of coffee, aiming to appear composed and unruffled. The cynical undertone 
had
been for her ears alone, which made his words even more ironic, she thought
bitterly. If he did but know, he was dangerously on track.
	Once they had finished coffee, Amy immediately announced her intention
of going to bed. Darien's sister had been yawing on and off all through
dinner, and it was clear she was tired, but Serena suspected Amy was trying 
to
be tactful too. Darien hadn't told her how he had explained her weekend to
visit his sister, and she hadn't asked, but she sensed Amy thought they were
romantically involved--which was logical after all.
	Did Amy know about her brother's views on love and marriage? Serena
asked herself thoughtfully, as she watched Darien rise and kiss the top of
Amy's head as he wished her goodnight. She doubted it. She doubted it very
much. And as for being as soft as marshmallow…She wrinkled her nose against
such foolishness.
	"Brandy?" Darien offered once they were alone. "Or how about another
coffee? Or even a combination of two? I do mean a liqueur, with one or two
spices and whipped cream."
	Serena's eyes widened appreciatively, and, seeing her expression, Darien
stood up, walking around the table and taking her hand as he said, "Come on,
you can come and watch me while I perform a minor miracle. Mrs. Kino had 
gone
to bed now, so we won't get in her way," his voice soft and teasing.
	This was too cozy, too intimate. The warning was there as she walked
through to the huge, beautifully fitted kitchen hand in hand him, but, once 
in
Mrs. Kino's immaculate domain, Darien made no effort to follow up on the 
brief
contact.
	"Sit yourself there and watch a genius at work." He indicated one of the
tall breakfast stools grouped round a large circular breakfast bar in the
middle of the room, and Serena clambered up obediently, feeling both 
relieved
and bereft at the same time.
	The coffee was absolutely delicious, and after her first sip, when her
blissful expression as she inhaled the fragrant liquid stroke for itself,
Darien joined her with his own cup. "Nice, eh?" he said easily, his voice
warm.
	It's lovely." Her pink tongue came out to lick a drop of foam off her
lips, and his body responded with muscle-clenching swiftness. "Really 
lovely.
And you cook too?"
	"When the mood takes me." He smiled at her with narrowed blue eyes, his
lazy hair and apparent relaxed demeanor lulling her into the state of false
security. The three glasses of wine she had imbibed during the meal, added 
to
the hefty measure of brandy in the coffee helped too.
	"Who taught you? Your mother?" she asked quietly.
	"No, not my mother."
	He hadn't moved a muscle, and the dark, handsome face was just the same
as it had been a moment before she spoke, but something had changed. She 
felt
it deep in the heart of her, in the secret place where her love for him
resided. And with the alcohol loosening her tongue, she persisted, "Didn’t
your mother like cooking, or was she too busy, perhaps?" My aunt always was.
	"My mother--" He stopped abruptly, and Serena could almost see the
razor-sharp brain ticking over and deciding whether to continue, before he
said, his tone flat now, "My mother was a beautiful butterfly, Serena. A
beautiful, enchanting, immoral butterfly. He stared at her, the blue eyes 
like
transparent ice.
	"Immoral?" She stared at him, frightened by the darkness in his face. He
couldn't be saying his own mother had been immoral, surely?
	"She was born into a poor Japanese family in the deep South, and she was
determined to get out the minute she could. At sixteen she left for the big
city and was working there when my father saw her outside a store one day 
when
he was vocation. It was love at first sigh for him, and he continued to love
her right up until the day he died."
	"And your mother?" Serena asked softly. "Did she fall in love with at
once?"
	"My father was forty to her eighteen when they me," Darien said
bitterly, "and he seemed very, very rich to a little girl from the cotton
plantations. She knew he would look after her."
	"Are you saying she didn't love him?" Serena asked uncertainly.
	"She didn't love anyone bit herself." He smiled mirthlessly. "I think my
father lost count of her lovers over the years."
	"And your father didn't mind?" her voice was incredulous, betraying her
shock.
	"He minded, but…he love her. They used to fight all the time. Amy and I
were brought up on screaming fights and long, cold silences. But at the 
bottom
he preferred to be miserable with her than miserable without her, I guess.
I've never been able to understand why." His voice carried a note of genuine
puzzlement. "She was a lousy wife and a lousy mother--none of us got any
affection, although my dad used to try and make up for the love and 
attention
she didn't give us. He was great; warm, loving, a real nice guy." He shook 
his
head slowly, his eye bleak.
"Do you know, she actually turned at his funeral with a male escort young
enough to be her son? Although to be fair she looked as young as him. She 
was
incredibly beautiful…"
	"Oh, Darien." She didn't know what to say or how to say it.
	"And then two years later she was dead, and even that was messy. She and
her latest boyfriend went swimming in the Caribbean one night when they were
high on something and drowned. Poetic justice, really--she'd been waiting 
for
my father to kick the buckle for years, but she didn't get as long as she'd
expected to enjoy the results of her whoring," he finished bitterly.
	"Her whoring?" Serena repeated in horror.
	"What else do you call it when you sleep with someone for money? That
what she did from the first day she met him."
	He was so angry, so cold, so bitter. She couldn't defend how his mother
had behaved, but Serena said gently, "But she had you and Amy. As least she
gave your father a son and a daughter. You must have been a comfort to him."
	"A son and a daughter." The way he said it made her blood run cold, and
then he turned to look at her, his rigid body stiff with pain. "Serena, just
after my mother was drowned, Amy developed the bone disease," he said with a
terrible lack of expression. "Necessary tests proved Amy was the natural 
child
of my mother and father, and I was not."
	"What?" She heard the words but couldn't take them in. "I don't
understand."
	"It's simple," he said harshly. "My mother got pregnant by one of her
lovers. I was not my father's son."
	She wanted to say something to take away the devastating pain evident in
his face, something that would remove the tortured blackness from his eyes,
but she couldn't think of a single word. She simply stared at him as her 
eyes
filled with tears, biting on her lip to stop its quivering.
	"It's all right. It's all right." Now he was comforting her, his voice
deep and tender and soft. "It's all history, Serena." He stood up, pulling 
her
into him, and she went blindly, resting her cheek against the soft silk of 
his
shirt as he continued, "The thing was imagining my father knew I wasn't his
flesh and blood, but I don't think he could have done. Certainly Amy doesn't
think so. He always treated us exactly the same, loved us the same."
	"He was your father, in every way that mattered," Serena said with
muffled urgency, her nose buried in his chest as he rested his chin in the
silk of her hair. "He brought you up, became both mother and father in the 
bad
times and the good."
	"I know." His voice was very husky. "But I wanted to belong to him by
blood. I couldn't believe my mother had been so cruel. I suppose the sense 
of
betrayal was heightened by the fact that I caught the girl I was engaged to 
in
the arms of a friend of mine a few weeks before my mother's accident. I 
began
to think the world was rotten from the inside out."
	"Or the female part of it," she murmured softly, drawing away a little
and raising her head to look into the dark face above hers. This explained 
so
much. She didn't want to know, not really, and yet she couldn't bear not
knowing, and so she asked, "This girl, your fiancée? What happened after you
found out?"
	"I left." It was very cold and very simple.
	He had been engaged once. He had asked someone to share the rest of her
life with him. The stab of jealousy was unworthy of her, she knew that, but
she couldn't help it. And this girl must have been made, crazy, to throw 
away
a lifetime of loving with such a man. Did she know what she had done, along
with this woman who had been his mother and sounded the most unnatural 
parent
in the world?
	Serena wanted to ask a thousand questions, but she knew not one of them
could be voiced. He was a lonely man; she could see that now. He might have
his women, along with fabulous wealth and glittering career, but the 
cynicism
caused by troubled childhood in an unhappy home with warring parents, 
followed
by his fiancée's betrayal and then the shock of finding out about his
parentage, had cut deep, bitter wounds in his psyche that perhaps could 
never
be healed. She could understand where his skeptical, scornful attitude to
marriage and love came from after all that he had endured--understand it, 
buy
not acquiesce to it.
	She didn't want to cry--she knew he was the type of man who would find
even the merest trace of pity distasteful if it was directed at him--but her
eyes were blurred as she said, "Thank you for telling me."
	"I didn't intend to." There was a note of surprise in the husky voice.
"I've never discussed all this with anyone before, but like Amy said, you're
different."
	But not different enough. She blinked her eyes furiously, staring up at
him as she tried to control her feelings. But he must have seen something in
the wounded blue eyes, because the hard, handsome face softened and he 
groaned
deep in his throat, his mouth moving hungrily over hers.
	The kiss was one of fierce passion that sent the blood rushing through
her body like warm mulled wine, and she was powerless to resist the
intoxication of it, abandoning herself to his hands and mouth with a
completeness that would have shocked her if she had been aware of it. But 
she
was lost in mindless emotion, the pounding of his heart, the small sounds he
was making at the back of his throat as his hands and mouth continued to
caress her, taking her to another dimension.
	She could feel his hands on her bare skin, but the gentle eroticism was
neither rough or threatening, and she began to tremble with the sweetness of
it. For years the thought of a man's passion had been something alien and
frightening, but this was pure pleasure and she twisted languorously in his
arms, murmuring incoherently s her fingers felt the tremors that rippled
across the hard male body, the thick muscles in his shoulders bunched under
her hands.
	His thighs were against hers, and his hand in the small of her back
urged her even closer, until she could feel every inch of him. She wanted 
him,
she needed him, Serena thought frantically, pressing herself into him in a
primitive invitation she would have been amazed at only minutes earlier. And
then she felt him stiffen, his hand and mouth freezing for a second before 
he
pushed her from him and said, his voice broken and urgent, "Amy," moments
before Serena hear the wheelchair in the hall outside.
	She just had time to hastily adjust her rumbled clothing before she slid
onto the stool she had vacated. Darien tucked his shirt into the waistband 
of
his jeans at the same time, and then moved to stand by the coffee machine,
before the door opened and Darien's sister came in.
	"Hello, again." If Amy noticed Serena's wildly flushed cheeks and
tousled hair she gave no indication of it, smiling blithely at her brother 
as
she said, "I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd do myself some hot milk. Buy 
if
that's one of your famous coffees…?"
	In direct contrast to her breathless state, Serena noticed Darien was
his normal cool, controlled self when he answered briefly, "Coffee won't 
help
you sleep," his voice expressionless.
	"I know," Amy said regretfully. "Okay, I'll fix myself some milk---
although that coffee smells heavenly."
	"It tastes it too." Serena forced herself to enter the conversation with
a light smile, praying that the burning embarrassment she was feeling wasn't
evident to neither of them. "But I'm bushed. Today was one of those days 
when
it would have been better not to get out of bed, so if you don't mind I'll 
go
up to my room now."
	She drained the last of the coffee as she finished speaking, standing up
and nodding at them both as she said, "Goodnight, then, sleep well."
	Darien's reply was a sardonically raised eyebrow and a rueful shake of
his head. "Somehow I don't think that's an option tonight," he said
expressionlessly. "I thing I might do a few lengths of the pool before I 
turn
in, and burn of some excess…energy."
	Serena managed to get out of the kitchen without disgracing herself, and
fairly flew up to her room on the second floor of the house which had a
panoramic view over half of Windsor. Once she had shut the door behind her 
she
leant against it for long, calming minutes, her eyes shut and her breast
heaving as she fought for control, and then she opened her eyes slowly 
before
switching on the light and walking across to the big double bed.
	It was a beautiful room…She gazed weakly at her surroundings as she
collapsed on the bed. Most of her flat could fit into this space, and the
shades of aqua-blues and greens, combined with the lime-green and yellow 
that
were reflected in the curtains, carpet and bed furniture, and the small cane
suite in the far corner of the room by the window, could only have been put
together by an expert.
	She hadn't had time to take much in when Amy had shown her her room
during their pre-dinner chat, but she remembered the ensuite bathroom was in
pale green marble, and that--again--it could swallow half her flat whole, 
and
the walk-in wardrobe was of a size to get lost in. all this wealth and 
power…
She shivered suddenly, but the chill was from within, not without.
	Serena sat for a long, long time in the soft, muted lighting, her mind
dissecting every word, every glance, every touch she and Darien had shared,
and by the time she rose to run herself a bath in the enormous tub she had
come to a decision. Several decisions, in fact, she told herself grimly.
	She had to come clean about how she had inveigled herself into his life
in the first place, and explain her less than honorable motives. He might
understand--he might not. Her heart turned over and she took a deep breath 
to
stop the panic taking hold. She tell him about Raye and Chad--all of it. She
owed him that at least. And she would explain something she had only just
realized herself, this very night. In seeking him out as she had, in trying 
to
play him at his own game, she had been aiming at retribution for what Allan
Ginga had put her through. It hadn't been just Raye she had sought to 
avenge,
but herself…
	The tears were hot and salty on her face as she slid into the warm
water, silky with fragrant bubbles, but still her thoughts went on.
	In explaining the reasons for her appearance in his life she would have
to tell him about the rape--that would be hard. She shuddered, shutting her
eyes tight for a moment as her heart pounded. She had no idea how a proud,
commanding man like him would react. It could be with distaste, pity, 
disgust-
-he might even secretly blame her, thinking she had enticed her lecturer to
act as he'd done. Certainly his view of women couldn't be any lower…
	She sat up abruptly, reaching for the expensive bottle of shampoo that
was grouped with many other pots of bath oils and skin and hair lotions at 
the
side of the bath, and, after pouring a liberal amount into the palm of her
hand, began to wash her hair vigorously, her mind racing as she considered 
her
options.
	However Darien reacted, she had to tell him. The knowledge caused her to
become still for a moment. After all he had confided, the honesty with which
had had spoken, she had to tell him the truth without any holds barred. She
just couldn't do anything else.
	The foam was dripping down into her eyes, and she rinsed her thick mass
of hair quickly before relaxing in the warm water again. And she had to tell
him she couldn't cope with a casual affair--that she understood why he 
thought
the way he did, but that it would kill her to sleep with him knowing he 
would
be gone in a month or two, a year or two--whatever. She wanted a lifetime
commitment with the next man who took her body, because, made as she was, 
she
knew he would be taking her mind too. And if Darien still didn't accept 
that,
still tried to persuade her to go to bed with him, then in the last resort 
she
would confess that she loved him. That would be enough to scare him away for
good, Serena thought with grim self-derision.
	The water was cooling by the time she padded through into the bedroom
wrapped in a big fluffy toweling robe, and sat for some time trying her 
hair,
her mind aching with the exhaustion of going round and round circles.
	She wasn't in Darien Chiba's league; she never had been. He was a highly
discriminating man, as well as being a clever and ruthless one. What did she
know about keep such a male interested? She asked herself flatly, sliding
under the thick, flower-scented linen covers with a deep, trembling sigh.
	She would tell him first thing in the morning, after breakfast, and
then, if he still wanted her to stay for the weekend to be company for Amy,
she would make sure she wasn't alone with him for the rest of her visit. Of
course he might pack her off home immediately…She stared despairingly across
the room, her eyes desolate as she relived the wretched sound of his voice
when he had told her about his mother and fiancée, and then she reached for
the little primrose-yellow lamp at the side of the bed and clicked off, only
to lie wide awake in the warm darkness for hours.
***********************************************************************
Well I just want to thanks again to the people who had e-mail me about this
fic with comments and compliments. It's nice to know someone is reading your
work and appreciating it. For those of you who's also reading "Darien's
Mistress", it will not be posted at first love anymore. If you want to
continue you can find it at:
http://www.moonchronicles.com or at: 
http://members.xoom.com/portalsms/index2.html

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