harles said bluntly, without warning, "Constantinos arrived in London this morning."

Jessica looked up, her mind blank for a moment, then she realized what he had said and she smiled ruefully. "Well, you did warn me, Charles. It seems you were right." Not that she had ever doubted him, for Charles's instincts in business were uncanny. He had told her that if she voted her stock in ConTech against the Constantinos vote, she would bring down on her head the wrath of the single largest stockholder and chairman of the board, Nikolas Constantinos, and it appeared that once again Charles had been exactly right. The vote on the Dryden issue had been yesterday. Despite Charles's warnings, she had voted against the takeover and her vote had carried the majority. Less than twenty-four hours later, Constantinos had arrived in London.

Jessica had never met him, but she had heard enough horror tales about him to count herself lucky in that respect. According to gossip, he was utterly ruthless in his business dealings; of course, it stood to reason that he would not have achieved his present position of power by being meek and mild. He was a billionaire, powerful even by Greek standards; she was only a stockholder, and she thought humorously that it was a case of overkill for him to bring out his heavy artillery on her, but it looked as though no problem was too small for his personal attention.

Charles had pointed out that she could have voted for the takeover and saved herself a lot of trouble, but one of the things that Robert had taught her in the three years of their marriage was to stand up for herself, to trust her instincts and never to sell herself short. Jessica had felt that the move against Dryden was underhanded and she voted against it. If Constantinos was unable to accept that she had the right to vote her stock as she wanted, then he would just have to learn to deal with it. Regardless of how much power he wielded, she was determined not to back down from her stand, and Charles had found that she could be very stubborn when she set her mind to something.

"You must be very careful around him," Charles instructed her now, breaking into her thoughts. "Jessica, my dear, I don't believe you realize just how much pressure the man can bring to bear on you. He can hurt you in ways you've never imagined. Your friends can lose their jobs; mortgages can be called in on their homes; banks will cease doing business with you. It can even extend to such small things as repairs to your auto being delayed or seats on flights suddenly becoming unavailable. Do you begin to see, my dear?"

Disbelievingly, Jessica stared at him. "My word, Charles, are you serious? It seems so ludicrous!"

"I regret that I am very serious. Constantinos wants things done his way, and he has the money and the power to ensure that they are. Don't underestimate him, Jessica."

"But that's barbaric!"

"And so is Constantinos, to a degree," said Charles flatly. "If he gives you the option of selling your stock to him, Jessica, then I strongly urge you to do so. It will be much safer for you."

"But Robert—"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted, though his voice took on a softer tone. "You feel that Robert entrusted that stock to you, and that he would have voted against the Dryden takeover, too. Robert was a very dear and special man, but he's dead now and he can't protect you. You have to think of yourself, and you haven't the weapons to fight Constantinos. He can demolish you."

"But I don't want to fight him," she protested. "I only want to carry on as I always have. It seems so silly for him to be upset over my vote—why should he take it so personally?"

"He doesn't take it personally," explained Charles. "He doesn't have to. But you've gone against him and you'll be brought into line, regardless of what he has to do to accomplish it. And don't think that you can appeal to his better nature—"

"I know," she broke in, her soft mouth curving into a smile. "He doesn't have one!"

"Exactly," said Charles. "Nor can he be feeling very charitable toward you; your record in voting against him, my dear, is very nearly perfect."

"Oh, dear," she said wryly. "I hadn't realized. But at least I'm consistent!"

Charles laughed unwillingly, but his cool eyes gleamed with admiration. Jessica always seemed in control of herself, capable of putting things into their proper perspective and reducing crises to mere annoyances, though he feared that this time she was in over her head. He didn't want her hurt; he never again wanted to see the look in her eyes that had been there after Robert's death, the despair, the pain that was too deep for comforting. She had recovered, she was a strong woman and a fighter, but he always tried to protect her from any further hurt. She had borne enough in her young life.

The phone rang and Jessica got up to answer it, her movements, as always, lithe and as graceful as a cat's. She tucked the receiver against her shoulder. "Stanton residence."

"Mrs. Stanton, please," said a cool, impersonal male voice, and her sharp ear caught the hint of an accent. Constantinos already?

"This is Mrs. Stanton," she replied.

"Mrs. Stanton, this is Mr. Constantinos's secretary. He would like to see you this afternoon—shall we say three-thirty?"

"Three-thirty?" she echoed, glancing at her wrist-watch. It was almost two o'clock now.

"Thank you, Mrs. Stanton," said the voice in satisfaction. "I will tell Mr. Constantinos to expect you. Good day."

The click of the receiver made her take the phone from her ear and stare at it in disbelief. "Well, that was cheeky," she mused, hanging up the instrument. It was possible that he had taken her echo of the time as an affirmation, but her instincts told her otherwise. No, it was simply that she was not expected to make any protest, and it wouldn't have mattered if she had.

"Who was that, my dear?" asked Charles absently, gathering up the papers he had brought for her signature.

"Mr. Constantinos's secretary. I've been summoned into the royal presence—at three-thirty this afternoon."

Charles's elegant eyebrows rose. "Then I suggest you hurry."

"I've a dental appointment at four-fifteen," she fretted.

"Cancel it"

She gave him a cool look and he laughed. "I apologize, my dear, and withdraw the suggestion. But be careful, and try to remember that it would be better to sell the stock than to try to fight Constantinos. I have to go now, but I'll ring you later."

"Yes, 'bye," she said, seeing him out. After he had gone, she dashed upstairs and took a shower, then found herself dawdling as she selected her dress. She was unsure what to wear and stood examining the contents of her wardrobe for long moments; then, in swift impatience with herself, she took down a cool beige jersey dress and stepped into it. It was classically simple and she wore it with four-inch heels to give her enough height to make her look more than a child.

She wasn't very tall, and because she was so fragile in build she tended to look about sixteen years old if she didn't use a host of little tricks to add maturity to her appearance. She wore simple clothing, pure in cut, and high heels whenever possible. Her long, thick, tawny hair she wore twisted into a knot at the back of her neck, a very severe hairstyle that revealed every proud, perfect line of her classically boned face and made her youth less obvious. Too much makeup would have made her look like a child playing grown-up, so she wore only subtle shades of eye shadow, naturally tinted lipsticks, and a touch of peach blusher. When she looked into the mirror, it was to check that her hair was subdued and her expression cool and reserved; she never saw the allure of long, heavily lashed green eyes or the provocative curve of her soft mouth. The world of flirtations and sexual affairs was so far removed from her consciousness that she had no concept of herself as a desirable woman. She had been a child when Robert had taken her under his protective wing—a sullen, self-conscious, suspicious child—and he had changed her into a responsible adult, but he had never attempted to teach her anything about the physical side of marriage and she was as untouched today at the age of twenty-three as she had been when she was born.

When she was ready, she checked the clock again and found that she had three-quarters of an hour to reach the ConTech building, but in the London traffic she would need every minute of that time. She snatched up her bag and ran downstairs to check on her dog, Samantha, who was very pregnant. Samantha lay in her bed, contentedly asleep even though her sides were grotesquely swollen by the puppies she carried. Jessica made certain there was water in her dish, then let herself out and crossed to her car, a sleek dark green sports model. She loved its smooth power and now she needed every ounce of it as she put it through its paces.

The traffic signals were with her and she stepped out of the lift on the appropriate floor of the ConTech building at precisely three-twenty-nine. A receptionist directed her to the royal chambers and she opened the heavy oak door at the appointed time.

A large room stretched before her, quietly furnished with chocolate-brown carpeting and chairs upholstered in brown and gold. Set to one side of massive double doors was a large desk, and seated at that desk was a slim, dark man who rose to his feet as she entered.

Cool dark eyes looked her up and down as she crossed the room to him, and she began to feel as if she had violated some law. "Good afternoon," she said, keeping all hint of temper out of her voice. "I am Mrs. Stanton."

The dark eyes swept over her again in a manner that was almost contemptuous. "Ah, yes. Please be seated,

Mrs. Stanton. I regret that Mr. Constantinos has been delayed, but he will be free to see you shortly."

Jessica inclined her head and selected one of the comfortable chairs, sitting down and crossing her graceful legs. She made certain that her face remained expressionless, but inside she was contemplating scratching the young man's eyes out. His manner set her teeth on edge; he had a condescending air about him, a certain nastiness that made her long to shake the smug look off his face.

Ten minutes later she wondered if she was expected to cool her heels here indefinitely until Constantinos deigned to see her. Glancing at her watch, she decided to give it another five minutes, then she would have to leave if she was to be on time for her dental appointment.

The buzzer on the desk sounded loudly in the silence and she looked up as the secretary snatched up one of the three telephones on his desk. "Yes, sir," he said crisply, and replaced the receiver. He removed a file from one of the metal cabinets beside him and carried it into the inner sanctum, returning almost immediately and closing the double doors behind him. From all indications, it would be some time yet before Constantinos was free, and the five minutes she had allowed were gone. She uncrossed her legs and rose to her feet.

Coolly uplifted eyebrows asked her intentions.

"I have another appointment to keep," she said smoothly, refusing to apologize for her departure. "Perhaps Mr. Constantinos will call me when he has more time."

Outraged astonishment was plain on the man's face as she took up her bag and prepared to leave. "But you can't go—" he began.

"On the contrary," she interrupted him, opening the door. "Good day."

Anger made her click her heels sharply as she walked to her car, but she took several deep breaths before she started the engine. No sense in letting the man's attitude upset her, perhaps enough to cause an accident, she told herself. She would shrug it off, as she had learned to do when she had been battered with criticism following her marriage to Robert. She had learned how to endure, to survive, and she was not going to let Robert down now.

After her dental appointment, which was only her annual checkup and took very little time, Jessica drove to the small dress shop just off Piccadilly that her neighbor Sallie Reese owned and operated, and helped Sallie close up. She also looked through the racks of clothing and chose two of the new line of evening gowns that Sallie had just stocked; perhaps because she had never had anything pretty when she was growing up, Jessica loved pretty clothes and had no resistance to buying them, though she was frugal with herself in other matters. She didn't wear jewelry and she didn't pamper herself in any way, but clothing—well, that was another story. Robert had always been amused by her little-girl glee in a new dress, a pair of jeans, shoes; it really didn't matter what it was so long as it was new and she liked it.

Remembering that made her smile a little sadly as she paid Sallie for the gowns; though she would never stop missing Robert, she was glad that she had brought some laughter and sunshine into the last years of his life.

"Whew, it has been a busy day," sighed Sallie as she totaled up the day's revenue. "But sales were good; it wasn't just a case of a lot of people window-shopping. Joel will be ecstatic; I promised him that he could buy that fancy stereo he's had his heart set on if we had a good week."

Jessica chuckled. Joel was a stereo addict, and he had been moaning for two months now about a marvelous set that he had seen and just had to have or his life would be blighted forever. Sallie took all of his dire predictions in stride, but it had been only a matter of time before she agreed to buy the new stereo. Jessica was glad that now her friends could afford a few luxuries without totally wrecking their budget. The dress shop had turned their fortunes around, because Joel's income as an accountant was just not enough nowadays to support a young family.

When Robert had died, Jessica had found herself unable to live in the luxurious penthouse without him and she had left it, instead buying an old Victorian house that had been converted into a duplex and moving into the empty side herself. Joel and Sallie and their twin five-year-old hellions, who went by the names of Patricia and Penelope, lived in the other side of the old house and the two young women had gradually become good friends. Jessica learned how Sallie had to scrimp and budget and make all of their clothing herself, and it was Sallie's needlework that had given Jessica the idea.

The Reeses had not had the capital to open a shop, but Jessica had, and when she found the small, cozy shop off Piccadilly, she leaped on it. Within a month it was remodeled, stocked, and in business with the name of SALLIE'S RAGS on the sign outside. Patty and Penny were in kindergarten and Sallie was happily installed in her shop, making some of the clothing herself and gradually expanding until now the shop employed two salesgirls full time, besides Sallie herself, and another woman who helped Sallie with the sewing. Before the first year was out, Sallie had repaid Jessica and was flushed with pride at how well it had turned out.

Sallie was now rounding quite nicely with a third little Reese, but she and Joel no longer worried about expenses and she was ecstatic about her pregnancy. She was fairly blooming with good health and high spirits, and even now, when she was tired, her cheeks had a pink color to them and her eyes sparkled.

After they had closed up, Jessica drove Sallie by to pick up Patty and Penny, who stayed late on Friday nights with their baby-sitter, as that was the night Sallie closed out the week. The twins were in school for the best part of the day, and when summer holidays came, Sallie intended to stay home from the shop with them, as her pregnancy would be advanced by then. When Jessica pulled up outside the baby-sitter's home, both of the little girls ran to the car shrieking "Hello, Auntie Jessie! Have you any candy for us?" That was a standard Friday-night treat and Jessica had not forgotten. As the girls mobbed her, Sallie went laughing to pay the sitter and thank her, and by the time she came back with her hands full of the girls' books and sweaters, Jessica had them both settled down in the car.

Sallie invited Jessica to eat dinner with them, but she declined because she did not like to intrude too much on the family. Not only was she rather reserved herself, but she sensed that Sallie wanted to be with Joel to celebrate the good news of the week's business in the shop. It was still new enough to them that it was a thrill, and she didn't want to restrain them with her presence.

The phone started ringing just as she opened the door, but Jessica paused for a moment to check on Samantha before she answered it. The dog was still in her basket, looking particularly peaceful, and she wagged her tail in greeting but did not get up. "No pups yet?" asked Jessica as she reached for the phone. "At this rate, old girl, they'll be grown before they get here." Then she lifted the phone on the kitchen extension.' 'Mrs. Stanton speaking."

"Mrs. Stanton, this is Nikolas Constantinos," said a deep voice, so deep that the bass notes almost growled at her, and to her surprise the accent was more American than Greek. She clutched the receiver as a spurt of warmth went through her. How silly, she chided herself, to melt at the sound of a faint American accent just because she was American herself! She loved England, she was content with her life here, but nevertheless, that brisk sound made her smile.

"Yes, Mr. Constantinos?" she made herself say, then wondered if she sounded rude. But she would be lying if she said something trite like "How nice it is to hear from you" when it wasn't nice at all; in fact, it would probably be very nasty indeed.

"I would like to arrange a meeting with you tomorrow, Mrs. Stanton," he said. "What time would be convenient for you?"

Surprised, she reflected that Constantinos himself did not seem to be as arrogant as his secretary; at least he had asked what time would be convenient, rather than telling her what time to present herself. Aloud she said, "On Saturday, Mr. Constantinos?"

"I realize it is the weekend, Mrs. Stanton," the deep voice replied, a hint of irritation evident in his tone. "However, I have work to do regardless of the day of the week."

Now that sounded more like what she had expected. Smiling slightly, she said, "Then any time is convenient for me, Mr. Constantinos; I haven't any commitments for tomorrow."

"Very well, let's say tomorrow afternoon, two o'clock." He paused, then said, "And, Mrs. Stanton, I don't like playing games. Why did you make an appointment with me this afternoon if you did not intend to keep it?"

Stung, she retorted coldly, "I didn't make the appointment. Your secretary phoned me and told me what time to be there, then hung up before I could agree or disagree. It rushed me, but I made the effort and waited for as long as I could, but I had another appointment to keep. I apologize if my effort was not good enough!" Her tone of voice stated plainly that she didn't care what his opinion was, and she didn't stop to think if that was wise or not She was incensed that that cockroach of a secretary had dared to imply that she was at fault.

"I see," he said after a moment. "Now it is my turn to apologize to you, Mrs. Stanton, and my apology is sincere. That will not happen again. Until tomorrow, then." The phone clicked as he hung up.

Jessica slammed the phone down violently and stood for a minute tapping her foot in controlled temper, then her face cleared and she laughed aloud. He had certainly put her in her place! She began almost to look forward to this meeting with the notorious Nikolas Constantinos.

When Jessica dressed for the meeting the next day, she began early and allowed herself plenty of time to change her mind about what she would wear. She tried on several things and finally chose a severely tailored dull-gold suit that made her look mature and serious, and this she teamed with a cream-colored silk shirt. The muted gold picked up the gold in her tawny hair and lightly tanned skin, and she didn't realize the picture she made or she would have changed immediately. As it was, she looked like a golden statue come to life, with gleaming green jewels for eyes.

She was geared up for this meeting; when she walked into the outer office at two o'clock, her heart was pounding in anticipation, her eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were flushed. At her entrance the secretary jumped to his feet with an alacrity that told her some stinging comments had been made concerning his conduct. Though his eyes were distinctly hostile, he escorted her into the inner office immediately.

"Mrs. Stanton, sir," he said, and left the office, closing the doors behind him.

Jessica moved across the office with her proud, graceful stride, and the man behind the desk rose slowly to his feet as she approached. He was tall, much taller than the average Greek, and his shoulders strained against the expensive cloth of his dark gray suit. He stood very still, watching her as she walked toward him, and his eyes narrowed to slits. She reached the desk and held out her hand; slowly her fingers were taken, but instead of the handshake she had invited, her hand was lifted and the black head bent over it. Warm lips were pressed briefly to her fingers, then her hand was released and the black head lifted.

Almost bemused, Jessica stared into eyes as black as night beneath brows that slashed across his face in a straight line. An arrogant blade of nose, brutally hard cheekbones, a firm lip line, a squared and stubborn chin, completed the face that was ancient in its structure. Centuries of Greek heritage were evident in that face, the face of a Spartan warrior. Charles had been right; this man was utterly ruthless, but Jessica did not feel threatened. She felt exhilarated, as if she was in the room with a tiger that she could control if she was very careful. Her heartbeat increased and her eyes grew brighter, and to disguise her involuntary response, she smiled and mur-mured, "Are you trying to charm me into voting my shares the way you want before you resort to annihilation?"

Amazingly, a smile appeared in response. "With a woman, I always try charm first," he said in the deep tones that seemed even deeper than they had last night over the phone.

"Really?" she asked in mock wonder. "Does it usually work?"

"Usually," he admitted, still smiling. "Why is it that I have the feeling, Mrs. Stanton, that you'll be an exception?"

"Perhaps because you're an unusually astute man, Mr. Constantinos," she countered.

He laughed aloud at that and indicated a chair set before his desk. "Please sit down, Mrs. Stanton. If we are to argue, let us at least be comfortable while we do it."

Jessica sat down and said impulsively, "Your accent is American, isn't it? It makes me feel so much at home!"

"I learned to speak English on a Texas oil field," he said. "I'm afraid that even Oxford couldn't erase the hint of Texas from my speech, though I believe it was thought by my instructors that my accent is Greek! Are you from Texas, Mrs. Stanton?"

"No, but a Texas drawl is recognizable to any American! How long were you in Texas?"

"For three years. How long have you been in England, Mrs. Stanton?"

"Since shortly before I married, a little over five years."

"Then you were little more than a child when you married," he said, an odd frown crossing his brow. "I'd assumed that you would be older, at least thirty, but I can see that's impossible."

Lifting her dainty chin, Jessica said, "No, I was a precocious eighteen when I married." She began to tense, sensing an attack of the type that she had endured so many times in the past five years.

"As I said, little more than a child. Though I suppose there are countless wives and mothers aged eighteen, it seems so much younger when the husband you chose was old enough to be your grandfather."

Jessica drew back and said coldly, "I see no reason to discuss my marriage. I believe our business concerns stocks."

He smiled again, but this time the smile was that of a predator, with nothing humorous in it. "You're certainly correct about that," he allowed. "However, that issue should be solved rather easily. When you sold your body and your youth to an old man of seventy-six, you established the fact that monetary gain ranks very high on your list of priorities. The only thing left to discuss is: how much?"