The Silver Bride

In the act of stepping into the lift, Dior had come back across the foyer to acknowledge her and embark on a conversation. What on earth had possessed him? Didn't he appreciate how much he had exposed her to adverse comments? Grace Bell followed her into the service lift. 'I thought I'd better wait and have a word with you in private,' she admitted frankly. Stella tried not to stiffen and nodded.

'Stella, the girls were adding two and two and making four before you even started your shift,' Grace shared ruefully. 'Everyone knows you switched with me that night and then just vanished for most of that week.' 'I didn't think anyone would be that interested.' 'In the normal way of it, they wouldn't have been. But a few of them had already joked about how much you looked like that blonde with Harlequin in Greece.

None of them were suspicious...but him going out of his way to speak to you tonight was strange enough to confirm the wildest rumors.' Stella had too much respect for the older woman to embark on frantic denials. On her first night back to work she had known that Grace was disconcerted by her failure to explain her disappearance. 'I'll ride out the gossip,' she muttered tautly.

The older woman sighed. 'A couple of weeks ago, Harlequin walked past me and said, "Goodnight, Buck-nail," for the first time. I couldn't help but know that something had changed somewhere. I would have sworn he didn't even know my name, never mind take note of me being around!' Stella colored as she recalled accusing Dior of not even noticing his more humble employees. 'I've no time for gossip.' Grace's eyes were troubled. 'It's you I'm worried about—'

'I'm fine...sadder but wiser,' Stella confided tightly as the lift reached her floor. Grace grimaced. 'I wish I could give that young man a piece of my mind—' 'I'm not a child, Grace.' 'No,' Grace conceded grudgingly as Stella stepped out.

But you needn't try to kid me that you're in the fast league either!' It was no comfort to be reminded of that salient fact. Stella was already far too well aware of it. One reckless night which could well change the whole course of her Me, she reflected with a feeling shiver. Her mother had been a single parent.

Stella knew better than most just how difficult it was to raise a child alone. She was probably being foolishly pessimistic, she told herself. Even so, she decided to buy a kit and do a pregnancy test for herself the following day. It would be a lot quicker than waiting to get an appointment with her doctor. She was emerging from one of the offices on level eight when the lift next to the reception area pinged.

She turned her head, expecting to see the security guard on his round, and froze when she saw Dior Harlequin striding down the corridor towards her. This time she noticed every tiny detail of his appearance. He was wearing a superb silver-grey suit, cut to enhance every powerful line of his magnificent physique. Her heartbeat thudded preternaturally slow in her eardrums. His lean, dark features had a slight keener edge then she recalled; his sensational cheekbones were more defined, the hollows below a little deeper.

But even the faint shadows now etched beneath his stunning eyes added an exotic tinge of drama to his spectacular good-looks, she reflected in a sudden surge of bitter anger. She hated the way he made her feel. Breathless and excited, and then foolish and unbearably sad... Stella spun away and plugged in the floor-polisher, determined just to get on with her job.

The polisher fired into noisy motion but almost as suddenly lost power. Stella whirled round. Having switched off the electric current, Dior straightened, surveying her disconcerted face with brilliant hazel green eyes of challenge. 'Stop running away,' he derided. Unprepared for that angle of attack, Stella said tautly, 'I don't know what you're talking about—' 'Yes, you do. You're trying to hide behind the fact that you work for me.

But it's too late for that,' Dior told her with sardonic cool. 'I just want you to leave me alone.' Dior gazed steadily back at her. 'Every time you look at me, you tell me the exact opposite.' He reached down for her hand before she could guess his intention. 'Your pulse is racing. You're trembling—' 'With annoyance!' Stella tugged her wrist free and spun away again.