When she got to her room, the maid who'd served dinner the night before was packing up her clothes. “Thank you,” she said to the maid. “How did you know I'm leaving?"
The maid gave her a baffled look. “I didn't know you're leaving. I've been told to move your things into Mr. Camacho's room."
"What?"
"Mr. Diaz told me,” the maid said quietly. She kept her eyes to the ground.
Georgina whirled and charged down the stairs. Had they all gathered together around the security screens and watched? Why had it happened? Why had Rick humiliated her in such a dreadful manner?
"Where is Mr. Diaz?” she asked Ramon who sat at the desk in the small surveillance office by the back door.
Ramon grinned at her and shook his head.
Georgina began a systematic search. The third door she flung open was to a study furnished in lightweight furniture, totally out of keeping with the rest of the house. Open fronted bookcases, desks without pedestals. It took her a while to realize it must be so that potential hiding places were minimized.
"Mr. Diaz,” she said. “I'm afraid I need to leave.” Her voice shook. She tried to steady it by taking deep breaths.
"No need to worry, my dear,” he told her. “My son and Mr. Camacho had a small disagreement over which one you should belong to. They resolved it to everyone's satisfaction. Yours, too, I believe.” A shadow of a smile played around his mouth.
"Did everyone watch?” Georgina whispered.
"Only me and the two guards.” Mr. Diaz looked at her with his sad eyes. “You cause me a great deal of regret that I'm not a younger man, Miss Coleman. Twenty years ago I wouldn't have offered you to anyone else."
"That's quite an old fashioned concept, Mr. Diaz. Women aren't chattels any more, to be owned and traded."
"I'm an old fashioned man, Miss Coleman."
Georgina gave him an unflinching stare. “I want that tape. If you don't give it to me, I swear that I'll trace every penny ever flown through your hands. If I discover one cent that hasn't been declared to the fullest extent of the law, I'll make it my life's mission to come up with legal proof, so that you can be prosecuted."
Mr. Diaz pulled open a desk drawer. He took out a video tape in a cardboard sleeve with the Panasonic logo on top. “I'm afraid my equipment is no longer the state of the art.” He handed the tape to Georgina “The wiring was done in the eighties. I don't have the heart to rip the walls open again."
Georgina took the tape. “Is this the only copy?"
"You have my word on it."
"Thank you,” she said curtly.
"I look after my associates,” Mr. Diaz said. “You'll come to understand that."
"I'm not sure we'll have any further dealings with each other,” she told him. “Thank you for your hospitality. When can the driver take me home?"
"You should plan to depart tomorrow morning,” Mr. Diaz said. “I'll have some lunch sent up to your room. We'll all dine together at nine."
"You'd better have dinner sent up too,” Georgina said. “I'd rather starve than come down. Everyone is sniggering at me.” She left the room, clutching the video tape in front of her with both hands.
Outside, Rick lounged on a leather sofa, sipping coffee from a large cup. Sebastian sprawled next to him. Both were watching a polo match on a huge screen mounted over the fireplace in the spacious marble foyer.
"Hey, Georgina,” Sebastian called, leaping up. He pressed an ice pack against his chin. “Do you want to watch your tape? I can stop this."
"Why couldn't you two just kill each other?"
Sebastian looked offended. “Hey, that's no way to talk to a friend."
Georgina relented a little over his bruised face. “I'm sorry about your car."
"No problem. It's insured. My only regret is that I was out cold. I didn't even get to see the tape."
"I'll strangle the next person who mentions the tape,” Georgina said tartly. Then she marched off, holding her back straight and her head high, clutching the video cassette against her chest. When she got back to her room, she found that her clothes had been unpacked again.
For the next few hours, Georgina occupied herself by taking a bath to wash the pool water out of her hair. Then she ate some of the salad that had been wheeled in on a little two-tiered brass trolley.
Her fury at Rick and every other male on the Diaz estate kept her going until the afternoon. Then honesty prevailed. She admitted that the worst of it was the shame over her own conduct.
How could she?
She'd spread her legs wide open for Rick Matisse, like some wanton floozy. Clung to him, and screamed in ecstasy while he screwed her in front of an audience. A few short weeks earlier she'd been too embarrassed to borrow a blue movie from a video store. Now she had performed in one.
She had let herself be blinded by lust. Rick had snapped his fingers, and she'd been his.
Georgina fetched her book on the world's currency markets from the canvas bag the maid must have retrieved from the pool and brought in while she lounged in the bath. She would educate her mind. Do something positive. Neutralize the corrupting influence of Rick Matisse.
Stretching out on the bed, she opened the book at the page marked by a little steel clip and focused her eyes on the text. The words refused to transfer from the paper into her brain, but she persisted for the rest of the afternoon in trying.
When the evening drew in, voices and laughter began to drift in through the open window covered with a wire-mesh insect screen. Georgina put out the lights and sneaked closer to the window. Standing to one side, hiding behind the curtains, she craned her neck.
Out in the lush watered part of the garden, on a circular stone patio surrounded by flowering trees, a long wooden table was covered with a white cloth. Naked flames burned at the end of tall torches scattered all around to punctuate the darkness. A cluster of men stood to one side, drinking and smoking and talking.
Silent maids trooped back and forth from the kitchen, bearing plates, and arranging them over the white cloth. Enticing smells floated up to Georgina's window. She breathed them in, feeling her mouth water. The hollow ache in her stomach made her realize she was ravenous.
Sex gives you an appetite. That was the saying, wasn't it? She fought against her hunger but lost, and gathered courage to go downstairs and join the group. Then she saw a man she'd never seen before. He stepped up to Rick and pounded him on the back, hollering out something in Spanish. A chorus of masculine laughter erupted all over the patio.
No prizes for guessing the joke.
Any plan to go outside came to an abrupt end. Georgina pulled back, her face burning with shame.
She stripped out of her clothes and crept into bed. As she prepared to sleep naked, something she had loathed the last time she tried, she relished the feel of cool sheets against her flushed skin. Despite an effort to push everything out of her mind, she couldn't stop thinking about the scene by the pool. Over and over, she played it in her mind.
The worst part was to realize that more than anything she yearned to experience again that moment of complete abandon. It horrified her to realize Rick Matisse had the power to make her lose control like that.
In the morning, Georgina awoke tired and ill tempered. A breakfast trolley stood already by her door. She must have slept through the knock when the maid wheeled it in.
Georgina ate the mango and papaya and left the rest. Then she packed her bags and stormed downstairs.
Rick hunched on the leather sofa in the foyer, idly flicking through a newspaper. Further down the hall, Sebastian crouched on the floor, strapping some kind of padded shields over his shins.
Georgina looked at neither man but spoke into the air somewhere between them. “Where's the driver? I was told to meet him in the morning."
"No driver.” Rick folded the newspaper and stood up. “I'm taking you home."
"What?” she cried. “You can't expect me to agree to that."
"There's no one else.” His manner conveyed no regret or apology. “José has the day off. If you don't come with me, you'll have to stay here until tomorrow."
"I can't. I've got to be at work by seven."
Rick shrugged. “Then you know what to do."
She gave him an angry scowl. “My car's at the Pacific Bank parking lot."
"I can drive you there,” Rick told her evenly.
Georgina gave a defeated sigh. “Fine. If that's the only way I can get out of here, let's go. I want to get it over with.” She collected her bags, refusing to let Rick carry them.
Sebastian got up and stood in the doorway to wave them a good-natured farewell.
Rick headed south when they got out of Palm Springs. “I'm taking you the scenic route."
"As you wish.” Georgina stared straight ahead. She wasn't going to talk to him. Three hours of silence would be nothing for a woman with her capacity to hold a grudge.
After twenty miles of driving, Rick turned off the main road and pulled onto a dirt track. “We're going for a walk."
"I don't want to go for a walk,” Georgina protested. She was dressed in slacks and flats suitable for walking, but that was beside the point.
"I do,” Rick said.
He steered into a clearing that appeared an official car park of some sort, because a notice board displayed a map, and a poster about protecting wildlife.
"What is this place?” Georgina asked.
"It's a national forest. Mount St Jacinto Wilderness. It's a place where people go for walks."
Rick circled the car and pulled the door open for her. When Georgina didn't get up, he put out his hand. “Please. We need to talk."
Georgina didn't make the slightest move.
"You can pout later all you like,” Rick said. “This is important. Get up.
Now
."
Georgina rolled her eyes at him, but she climbed out of the car.
"Don't take anything with you,” Rick ordered.
"My handbag."
"I'll lock it in the trunk."
After he'd done it, they scaled the rutted forest path for a hundred yards.
"This should be far enough,” Rick told her. “Check your pockets. Make sure they are empty."
"Why?"
"The maid could have planted a bug."
"What am I looking for?"
"Anything small and hard. Plastic or metal. Size of a button."
Georgina went through her clothes, including feeling along the seams. “Nothing,” she confirmed.
"All right. Sit down.” Rick pointed at a smooth stone.
Georgina perched herself on top. She pressed her hands together and tucked them between her legs. Rick stood in front of her, placing his fingertips lightly on her shoulders.
"I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean that to happen."
"You behaved like a beast, just to play out some stupid role. You didn't give any thought to how it would make me feel."
"I had no choice."
Her gaze challenged him. “There's always a choice."
"Yes. The choice was to claim you for myself, or let Sebastian have you. Would you have preferred that?"
"No.” Georgina forced out the word. It wasn't because she wanted to give him the satisfaction of hearing it, but because the truth shouldn't be denied.
"Good,” Rick said.
"What if I get pregnant?"
"If you do, we'll deal with it."
She gave him a withering glance.
"Sorry,” he said. His fingers tightened over her shoulders. “I don't want you to worry about it."
"Easy for you to say.” Georgina looked down into her lap. She'd let him stew on that one for a while. She knew she wouldn't get pregnant, it wasn't the right time of the month, but there was no need to tell him that.
"I'm sorry,” Rick said again.
"Why did it have to happen?” Georgina asked quietly. “I don't understand."
"Diaz was determined to bind you emotionally to his team. He is wary of women in business. He feels they need to be attached to a man. He claims it gives him more control over them."
"That's rubbish."
"Is it really?” Rick said. “What caused you to be in his house today, if not your connection with me?"
"It's not that simple."
"That's what Diaz believes. That women's actions are controlled by men."
Georgina decided it wasn't the time and place to make Rick understand how wrong he was. “I wondered why all the men suddenly seemed so interested in me,” she muttered, her face lowered.
"Don't underestimate your appeal,” Rick told her quietly.
Georgina glanced up, but decided not to comment. “What happens now?"
"We'll go ahead. It will be easier now, as we can arrange to meet once in a while. I'll have to be in my Camacho getup, and we'll have to be very careful with what we say."
"How do we go ahead?” Georgina had no intention of agreeing to any meetings with him, but she was too mentally drained to start an argument.
"Diaz spoke to me after lunch. It's all set up.” Rick's tone changed to official. “You'll find a builder. You'll pick up the cash from Palm Springs once a month and deliver it to the builder. The idea is to keep Diaz at a distance and to implicate you, so that you can't double-cross him."
"What a nice man,” Georgina said, her voice tight with scorn.
"This is not your world,” Rick told her quietly. “I warned you not to get involved."
"For once, I wish I'd listened to you."
"Finally, we're getting somewhere.” Rick grinned and pulled Georgina up to her feet. Holding her close, he stroked her hair. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's been a tough few days for you."
"I know.” Georgina found herself leaning into him, despite not wanting to. “I started a life of crime, I sank a car into a swimming pool, and I starred in a porn movie."
"Not just a car, darling. A Porsche."
"Oh,” Georgina said. “Do I get extra points for that?"
"That's the way,” Rick said. “If you can't change it, laugh at it."
"At least I have the tape.” Georgina frowned. “Diaz swore there's just the one copy."
"You have the tape?” Rick snapped to attention.
"Yeah.” Georgina gave a slow nod. “I was surprised when Diaz just gave it to me when I asked."