The Silver Bride

PART SEVEN

Stella heard Dior come home. She listened to him exchanging a handful of terse words with his manservant, no doubt learning that she was waiting to see him.

Having come over to his apartment the instant she finished work, she had been awaiting his return for almost two hours. And Stella now felt like unstable gelignite.

The more inconsistencies she recalled in Dior's past behavior, the more she understood, and the deeper her frustrated pain stabbed. Dior strode into the airy drawing-room, his lean, strong face is grim, hazel green eyes flat and unfathomable. He emanated stress and tension like a forcefield.

'I understand that Aria paid you a visit,' Dior drawled icily, immediately knocking the ground from beneath Stella's feet by admitting his knowledge of that fact. 'It was a very generous act on her part, but only what I have learned to expect from her.' Thoroughly thrown by that opening, Stella gasped.

'A generous act? Are you out of your mind or just plain stupid?' Dior stilled, his darkly handsome features emanating a freezing distaste that cut Stella to the bone. 'She offered you her support and assistance. You were rude and offensive.

I did not enjoy having to apologize for your behavior.' 'Having to apologize for my behavior...?' Stella repeated almost incoherently, registering that she had seriously underestimated the older woman.

Support and assistance? The abortion package? Aria had got hay first with her version of events, and Stella wondered why she should even care. 'She offered me a million pounds to have an abortion.' Dior studied her for a full ten seconds with widening hazel green eyes full of sheer, lancing disbelief.

'If you must lie, strive to come up with something more credible and less melodramatic,' he derided harshly. 'Aria would never sink to such a level.' Silenced by the level of assurance with which he made that claim, Stella stared back at him with bitter anger.

'You do deserve her,' she breathed in a stark undertone, two high spots of red banishing her previous pallor. 'And if she's so blasted special, why were you with me?' Dior froze. 'I will not discuss with you Aria, Stella.'

'What a pity you couldn't award me the same respect!' Stella bit out, so mad with rage and pain she could hardly get the words out. A slight rise of color burnished the slant of Dior's stunning but rigid cheekbones.

"The very least I owed Aria was a frank explanation.' 'But you couldn't even bring yourself to refer to her existence around me. You must have known that I hadn't a clue who she was the day of the funeral!' Stella condemned in an emotive appeal. 'I thought she was just a relative—' 'We are distantly related,' Dior conceded, tight-mouthed. 'How very cozy.

No wonder you didn't introduce me to her! That's some kinky, twisted relationship you two have...and if she was a nicer person, I might have pitied her for being that desperate to hold onto you!' Dior rested glittering dark golden eyes on her that burned like lasers. 'I will not listen to you abusing Aria. You don't understand what you're talking about.'

A torn laugh escaped Stella. 'And if it's anything to do with you, I never will, will I? But it doesn't matter anymore. I trusted you. I thought you were a free man. I would never have got involved with you had I known about her.' 'Aria and I are not lovers,' Dior delivered grimly.

'Before last night I had never actually discussed marriage with her. But there was a strong understanding between our families that in the near future we would marry.' '

Why the heck didn't you just marry her when your father wanted you to?' Stella demanded bitterly. 'I resented the pressure being put on me. I should emphasize that Aria played no part in creating that pressure,' Dior imparted flatly.