Master of the Game

When Eve returned to New York, she checked into a midtown hotel, as she had been instructed. An hour later, Brad Rogers telephoned.



"Your grandmother called from Paris, Eve. Apparently there's some problem between you two."



"Not really," Eve laughed. "It's just a little family - " She was about to launch into an elaborate defense when she suddenly realized the danger that lay in that direction. From now on, she would have to be very careful. She had never had to think about money. It had always been there. Now it loomed large in her thoughts. She had no idea how large her allowance was going to be and for the first time in her life Eve felt fear.



"She told you she's having a new will drawn up?" Brad asked.



"Yes, she mentioned something about it." She was determined to play it cool.



"I think we had better discuss this in person. How's Monday at three?"



"That will be fine, Brad."



"My office. All right?"



"I'll be there."



At five minutes before three, Eve entered the Kruger-Brent, Ltd., Building. She was greeted deferentially by the security guard, the elevator starter and even the elevator operator. Everyone knows me, Eve thought. I'm a Blackwell. The elevator took her to the executive floor, and a few moments later Eve was seated in Brad Rogers's office.



Brad had been surprised when Kate telephoned him to say she was going to disinherit Eve, for he knew how much Kate cared about this particular granddaughter and what plans she had for her. Brad could not imagine what had happened. Well, it was none of his business. If Kate wanted to discuss it with him, she would. His job was to carry out her orders. He felt a momentary flash of pity for the lovely young woman before him. Kate had not been much older when he had first met her. Neither had he. And now he was a gray-haired old fool, still hoping that one day Kate Blackwell would realize there was someone who loved her very deeply.



He said to Eve, "I have some papers for you to sign. If you'll just read them over and - "



"That won't be necessary."



"Eve, it's important that you understand." He began to explain. "Under your grandmother's will, you're the beneficiary of an irrevocable trust fund currently in excess of five million dollars. Your grandmother is the executor. At her discretion, the money can be paid to you at any time from the age of twenty-one to thirty-five." He cleared his throat. "She has elected to give it to you when you reach age thirty-five."



It was a slap in the face.



"Beginning today, you will receive a weekly allowance of two hundred fifty dollars."



It was impossible! One decent dress cost more than that. There was no way she could live on $250 a week. This was being done to humiliate her. This bastard was probably in on it with her grandmother. He was sitting behind his big desk, enjoying himself, laughing. She wanted to pick up the large bronze paperweight in front of him and smash his head in. She could almost feel the crunch of bone under her hand.



Brad droned on. "You are not to have any charge accounts, private or otherwise, and you are not to use the Blackwell name at any stores. Anything you purchase must be paid for in cash."



The nightmare was getting worse and worse.



"Next. If there is any gossip connected with your name in any newspaper or magazine - local or foreign - your weekly income will be stopped. Is that clear?"



"Yes." Her voice was a whisper.



"You and your sister Alexandra were issued insurance policies on your grandmother's life for five million dollars apiece. The policy you hold was canceled as of this morning. At the end of one year," Brad went on, "if your grandmother is satisfied with your behavior, your weekly allowance will be doubled." He hesitated. "There is one final stipulation."



She wants to hang me in public by my thumbs. "Yes?"



Brad Rogers looked uncomfortable. "Your grandmother does not wish ever to see you again, Eve."



Well, I want to see you one more time, old woman. I want to see you dying in agony.



Brad's voice trickled through to the cauldron of Eve's mind. "If you have any problems, you are to telephone me. She does not want you to come to this building again, or to visit any of the family estates."



He had tried to argue with Kate about that. "My God, Kate, she's your granddaughter, your flesh and blood. You're treating her like a leper."



"She is a leper."



And the discussion had ended.



Now Brad said awkwardly, "Well, I think that covers everything. Are there any questions, Eve?"



"No." She was in shock.



"Then if you'll just sign these papers..."



Ten minutes later, Eve was on the street again. There was a check for $250 in her purse.



The following morning Eve called on a real-estate agent and began looking for an apartment. In her fantasies, she had envisioned a beautiful penthouse overlooking Central Park, the rooms done in white with modern furniture, and a terrace where she could entertain guests. Reality came as a stunning blow. It seemed there were no Park Avenue penthouses available for someone with an income of $250 a week. What was available was a one-room studio apartment in Little Italy with a couch that became a bed, a nook that the real-estate agent euphemistically referred to as the "library," a small kitchenette and a tiny bathroom with stained tile.



"Is - is this the best you have?" Eve asked.



"No," the agent informed her. "I've got a twenty-room townhouse on Sutton Place for a half a million dollars, plus maintenance."



You bastard! Eve thought.



Real despair did not hit Eve until the following afternoon when she moved in. It was a prison. Her dressing room at home had been as large as this entire apartment. She thought of Alexandra enjoying herself in the huge house on Fifth Avenue. My God, why couldn't Alexandra have burned to death? It had been so close! If she had died and Eve had been the only heiress, things would have been different. Her grandmother would not have dared disinherit her.



But if Kate Blackwell thought that Eve intended to give up her heritage that easily, she did not know her granddaughter. Eve had no intention of trying to live on $250 a week. There was five million dollars that belonged to her, sitting in a bank, and that vicious old woman was keeping it from her. There has to be a way to get my hands on that money. I will find it.



The solution came the following day.



"And what can I do for you, Miss Blackwell?" Alvin Seagram asked deferentially. He was vice-president of the National Union Bank, and he was, in fact, prepared to do almost anything. What kind Fates had brought this young woman to him? If he could secure the Kruger-Brent account, or any part of it, his career would rise like a rocket.



"There's some money in trust for me," Eve explained. "Five million dollars. Because of the rules of the trust, it won't come to me until I'm thirty-five years old." She smiled ingenuously. "That seems so long from now."



"At your age, I'm sure it does," the banker smiled. "You're - nineteen?"



"Twenty-one."



"And beautiful, if you'll permit me to say so, Miss Blackwell."



Eve smiled demurely. "Thank you, Mr. Seagram." It was going to be simpler than she thought. The man's an idiot.



He could feel the rapport between them. She likes me. "How exactly may we help you?"



"Well, I was wondering if it would be possible to borrow an advance on my trust fund. You see, I need the money now more than I'll need it later. I'm engaged to be married. My fiance is a construction engineer working in Israel, and he won't be back in this country for another three years."



Alvin Seagram was all sympathy. "I understand perfectly." His heart was pounding wildly. Of course, he could grant her request. Money was advanced against trust funds all the time. And when he had satisfied her, she would sent him other members of the Blackwell family, and he would satisfy them. Oh, how he would satisfy them! After that, there would be no stopping him. He would be made a member of the executive board of National Union. Perhaps one day its chairman. And he owed all this to the delicious little blonde seated across the desk.



"No problem at all," Alvin Seagram assured Eve. "It's a very simple transaction. You understand that we could not loan you the entire amount, but we could certainly let you have, say, a million immediately. Would that be satisfactory?"



"Perfectly," Eve said, trying not to show her exhilaration.



"Fine. If you'll just give me the details of the trust..." He picked up a pen.



"You can get in touch with Brad Rogers at Kruger-Brent. He'll give you all the information you need."



"I'll give him a call right away."



Eve rose. "How long will it take?"



"No more than a day or two. I'll rush it through personally."



She held out a lovely, delicate hand. "You're very kind."



The moment Eve was out of the office, Alvin Seagram picked up the telephone. "Get me Mr. Brad Rogers at Kruger-Brent, Limited." The very name sent a delicious shiver up his spine.



Two days later Eve returned to the bank and was ushered into Alvin Seagram's office. His first words were, "I'm afraid I can't help you, Miss Blackwell."



Eve could not believe what she was hearing. "I don't understand. You said it was simple. You said - "



"I'm sorry. I was not in possession of all the facts."



How vividly he recalled the conversation with Brad Rogers. "Yes, there is a five-million-dollar trust fund in Eve Blackwell's name. Your bank is perfectly free to advance any amount of money you wish against it. However, I think it only fair to caution you that Kate Blackwell would consider it an unfriendly act."



There was no need for Brad Rogers to spell out what the consequences could be. Kruger-Brent had powerful friends everywhere. And if those friends started pulling money out of National Union, Alvin Seagram did not have to guess what it would do to his career.



"I'm sorry," he repeated to Eve. "There's nothing I can do."



Eve looked at him, frustrated. But she would not let this man know what a blow he had dealt her. "Thank you for your trouble. There are other banks in New York. Good day."



"Miss Blackwell," Alvin Seagram told her, "there isn't a bank in the world that will loan you one penny against that trust."



Alexandra was puzzled. In the past, her grandmother had made it obvious in a hundred ways that she favored Eve. Now, overnight everything had changed. She knew something terrible had happened between Kate and Eve, but she had no idea what it could have been.



Whenever Alexandra tried to bring up the subject, her grandmother would say, "There is nothing to discuss. Eve chose her own life."



Nor could Alexandra get anything out of Eve.



Kate Blackwell began spending a great deal of time with Alexandra. Alexandra was intrigued. She was not merely in her grandmother's presence, she was becoming an actual part of her life. It was as though her grandmother were seeing her for the first time. Alexandra had an odd feeling she was being evaluated.



Kate was seeing her granddaughter for the first time, and because she had been bitterly deceived once, she was doubly careful in forming an opinion about Eve's twin. She spent every possible moment with Alexandra, and she probed and questioned and listened. And in the end she was satisfied.



It was not easy to know Alexandra. She was a private person, more reserved than Eve. Alexandra had a quick, lively intelligence, and her innocence, combined with her beauty, made her all the more endearing. She had always received countless invitations to parties and dinners and the theater, but now it was Kate who decided which invitations Alexandra should accept and which ones she should refuse. The fact that a suitor was eligible was not enough - not nearly enough. What Kate was looking for was a man capable of helping Alexandra run Kate's dynasty. She said nothing of this to Alexandra. There would be time enough for that when Kate found the right man for her granddaughter. Sometimes, in the lonely early-morning hours when Kate had trouble sleeping, she thought about Eve.



Eve was doing beautifully. The episode with her grandmother had bruised her ego so badly that for a short time she had forgotten something very important: She had forgotten how attractive she was to men. At the first party she was invited to after she moved into her own apartment, she gave her telephone number to six men - four of them married - and within twenty-four hours she had heard from all six of them. From that day on, Eve knew she would no longer have to worry about money. She was showered with gifts: expensive jewelry, paintings and, more often, cash.



"I've just ordered a new credenza, and my allowance check hasn't come. Would you mind, darling?"



And they never minded.



When Eve went out in public, she made sure she was escorted by men who were single. Married men she saw afternoons at her apartment. Eve was very discreet. She was careful to see that her name was kept out of gossip columns, not because she was any longer concerned about her allowance being stopped, but because she was determined that one day her grandmother was going to come crawling to her. Kate Blackwell needed an heir to take over Kruger-Brent. Alexandra is not equipped to be anything but a stupid housewife, Eve gloated.



One afternoon, leafing through a new issue of Town and Country, Eve came across a photograph of Alexandra dancing with an attractive man. Eve was not looking at Alexandra, she was looking at the man. And realizing that if Alexandra married and had a son, it would be a disaster for Eve and her plans.



She stared at the picture a long time.



Over a period of a year, Alexandra had called Eve regularly, for lunch or dinner, and Eve had always put her off with excuses. Now Eve decided it was time to have a talk with her sister. She invited Alexandra to her apartment.



Alexandra had not seen the apartment before, and Eve braced herself for pity. But all Alexandra said was, "It's charming, Eve. It's very cozy, isn't it?"



Eve smiled. "It suits me. I wanted something intime." She had pawned enough jewelry and paintings so that she could have moved into a beautiful apartment, but Kate would have learned of it and would have demanded to know where the money had come from. For the moment, the watchword was discretion.



"How is Gran?" Eve asked.



"She's fine." Alexandra hesitated. "Eve, I don't know what happened between you two, but you know if there's anything I can do to help, I'll - "



Eve sighed. "She didn't tell you?"



"No. She won't discuss it."



"I don't blame her. The poor dear probably feels as guilty as hell. I met a wonderful young doctor. We were going to be married. We went to bed together. Gran found out about it. She told me to get out of the house, that she never wanted to see me again. I'm afraid our grandmother is very old-fashioned, Alex."



She watched the look of dismay on Alexandra's face. "That's terrible! The two of you must go to Gran. I'm sure she would - "



"He was killed in an airplane accident."



"Oh, Eve! Why didn't you tell me this before?"



"I was too ashamed to tell anyone, even you." She squeezed her sister's hand. "And you know I tell you everything."



"Let me talk to Gran. I'll explain - "



"No! I have too much pride. Promise me you'll never discuss this with her. Ever!"



"But I'm sure she would - "



"Promise!"



Alexandra sighed. "All right."



"Believe me, I'm very happy here. I come and go as I please. It's great!"



Alexandra looked at her sister and thought how much she had missed Eve.



Eve put her arm around Alexandra and began to tease. "Now, enough about me. Tell me what's going on in your life. Have you met Prince Charming yet? I'll bet you have!"



"No."



Eve studied her sister. It was a mirror image of herself, and she was determined to destroy it. "You will, darling."



"I'm in no hurry. I decided it's time I started earning a living. I talked to Gran about it. Next week I'm going to meet with the head of an advertising agency about a job."



They had lunch at a little bistro near Eve's apartment, and Eve insisted on paying. She wanted nothing from her sister.



When they were bidding each other good-bye, Alexandra said, "Eve, if you need any money - "



"Don't be silly, darling. I have more than enough."



Alexandra persisted. "Still, if you run short, you can have anything I've got."



Eve looked into Alexandra's eyes and said, "I'm counting on that." She smiled. "But I really don't need a thing, Alex." She did not need crumbs. She intended to have the whole cake. The question was: How was she going to get it?



There was a weekend party in Nassau.



"It wouldn't be the same without you, Eve. All your friends will be here."



The caller was Nita Ludwig, a girl whom Eve had known at school in Switzerland.



She would meet some new men. The present crop was tiresome.



"It sounds like fun," Eve said. "I'll be there."



That afternoon she pawned an emerald bracelet she had been given a week earlier by an infatuated insurance executive with a wife and three children, and bought some new summer outfits at Lord & Taylor and a round-trip ticket to Nassau. She was on the plane the following morning.



The Ludwig estate was a large, sprawling mansion on the beach. The main house had thirty rooms, and the smallest was larger than Eve's entire apartment. Eve was escorted to her room by a uniformed maid, who unpacked for her while Eve freshened up. Then she went down to meet her fellow guests.



There were sixteen people in the drawing room, and they had one thing in common: They were wealthy. Nita Ludwig was a firm believer in the "birds of a feather" philosophy. These people felt the same way about the same things; they were comfortable with one another because they spoke the same language. They shared the commonality of the best boarding schools and colleges, luxurious estates, yachts, private jets and tax problems. A columnist had dubbed them the "jet set," an appellation they derided publicly and enjoyed privately. They were the privileged, the chosen few, set apart from all others by a discriminating god. Let the rest of the world believe that money could not buy everything. These people knew better. Money bought them beauty and love and luxury and a place in heaven. And it was from all this that Eve had been excluded by the whim of a narrow-minded old lady. But not for long, Eve thought.



She entered the drawing room and the conversation dropped as Eve walked in. In a room full of beautiful women, she was the most beautiful of all. Nita took Eve around to greet her friends, and to introduce her to the people she did not know. Eve was charming and pleasant, and she studied each man with a knowing eye, expertly selecting her targets. Most of the older men were married, but that only made it easier.



A bald-headed man dressed in plaid slacks and Hawaiian sport shirt came up to her. "I'll bet you get tired of people telling you you're beautiful, honey."



Eve rewarded him with a warm smile. "I never get tired of that, Mr. - ?"



"Peterson. Call me Dan. You should be a Hollywood star."



"I'm afraid I have no talent for acting."



"I'll bet you've got a lot of other talents, though."



Eve smiled enigmatically. "You never know until you try, do you, Dan?"



He wet his lips. "You down here alone?"



"Yes."



"I've got my yacht anchored in the bay. Maybe you and I could take a little cruise tomorrow?"



"That sounds lovely," Eve said.



He grinned. "I don't know why we've never met before. I've known your grandmother, Kate, for years."



The smile stayed on Eve's face, but it took a great effort. "Gran's a darling," Eve said. "I think we'd better join the others."



"Sure, honey." He winked. "Remember tomorrow."



From that moment on, he was unable to get Eve alone again. She avoided him at lunch, and after lunch she borrowed one of the automobiles kept in the garage for guests and drove into town. She drove past Blackbeard's Tower and the lovely Ardastra Gardens where the colorful flamingos were on parade. She stopped at the waterfront to watch the fishing boats unload their catch of giant turtles, enormous lobsters, tropical fish and a brilliantly colored variety of conch shells, which would be polished and sold to the tourists.



The bay was smooth, and the sea sparkled like diamonds. Across the water Eve could see the crescent curve of Paradise Island Beach. A motorboat was leaving the dock at the beach, and as it picked up speed, the figure of a man suddenly rose into the sky, trailing behind the boat. It was a startling sight. He appeared to be hanging on to a metal bar fastened to a blue sail, his long, lean body stretched against the wind. Para-sailing. Eve watched, fascinated, as the motorboat roared toward the harbor, and the airborne figure swept closer. The boat approached the dock and made a sharp turn, and for an instant Eve caught a glimpse of the dark, handsome face of the man in the air, and then he was gone.



He walked into Nita Ludwig's drawing room five hours later, and Eve felt as though she had willed him there. She had known he would appear. Up close he was even more handsome. He was six foot three, with perfectly sculptured, tanned features, black eyes and a trim, athletic body. When he smiled, he revealed white, even teeth. He smiled down at Eve as Nita introduced him.



"This is George Mellis. Eve Blackwell."



"My God, you belong in the Louvre," George Mellis said. His voice was deep and husky, with the trace of an indefinable accent.



"Come along, darling," Nita commanded. "I'll introduce you to the other guests."



He waved her away. "Don't bother. I just met everybody."



Nita looked at the two of them thoughtfully. "I see. Well, if I can do anything, call me." She walked away.



"Weren't you a little rude to her?" Eve asked.



He grinned. "I'm not responsible for what I say or do. I'm in love."



Eve laughed.



"I mean it. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."



"I was thinking the same about you."



Eve did not care whether this man had money or not. She was fascinated by him. It was more than his looks. There was a magnetism, a sense of power that excited her. No man had ever affected her this way before. "Who are you?" Eve asked.



"Nita told you. George Mellis."



"Who are you?" she repeated.



"Ah, you mean in the philosophical sense. The real me. Nothing colorful to tell, I'm afraid. I'm Greek. My family grows olives and other things."



That Mellis! The Mellis food brands could be found in every corner grocery store and supermarket in America.



"Are you married?" Eve asked.



He grinned. "Are you always this direct?"



"No."



"I'm not married."



The answer gave her an unexpected feeling of pleasure. Just looking at him made Eve want to possess him, to be possessed. "Why did you miss dinner?"



"The truth?"



"Yes."



"It's very personal."



She waited.



"I was busy persuading a young lady not to commit suicide." He said it matter-of-factly, as though it were a common occurrence.



"I hope you succeeded."



"For now. I hope you're not the suicidal type."



"No. I hope you're not."



George Mellis laughed aloud. "I love you," he said. "I really love you." He took Eve's arm, and his touch made her shiver.



He stayed at Eve's side all evening, and he was totally attentive to her, oblivious to everyone else. He had long, delicate hands, and they were constantly doing things for Eve: bringing her a drink, lighting her cigarette, touching her discreetly. His nearness set her body afire, and she could not wait to be alone with him.



Just after midnight when the guests began to retire to their rooms, George Mellis asked, "Which is your bedroom?"



"At the end of the north hall."



He nodded, his long-lashed eyes boring into hers.



Eve undressed and bathed and put on a new sheer, black negligee that clung to her figure. At one A.M. there was a discreet tap on the door. She hurried to open it, and George Mellis stepped in.



He stood there, his eyes filled with admiration. "Matia mou, you make the Venus de Milo look like a hag."



"I have an advantage over her," Eve whispered. "I have two arms."



And she put both arms around George Mellis and drew him to her. His kiss made something explode inside her. His lips pressed hard against hers, and she felt his tongue exploring her mouth.



"Oh, my God!" Eve moaned.



He started to strip off his jacket, and she helped him. In a moment he was free of his trousers and French shorts, and he was naked before her. He had the most glorious physique Eve had ever seen. He was hard and erect.



"Quick," Eve said. "Make love to me." She moved onto the bed, her body on fire.



He commanded, "Turn over. Give me your ass."



She looked up at him. "I - I don't - "



And he hit her on the mouth. She stared up at him in shock.



"Turn over."



"No."



He hit her again, harder, and the room began to swim in front of her.



"Please, no."



He hit her again, savagely. She felt his powerful hands turning her over, pulling her up on her knees.



"For God's sake," she gasped, "stop it! I'll scream."



He smashed his arm across the back of her neck, and Eve started to lose consciousness. Dimly, she felt him raise her hips higher into the air. He pulled her cheeks apart, and his body pressed against hers. There was a sudden, excruciating pain as he plunged deep inside her. She opened her mouth to scream, but she stopped in terror of what he might do to her.



She begged, "Oh, please, you're hurting me..."



She tried to pull away from him, but he was holding her hips tightly, plunging into her again and again, tearing her apart with his enormous penis. The pain was unbearable.



"Oh, God, no!" she whispered. "Stop it! Please stop it!"



He kept moving in, deeper and faster, and the last thing Eve remembered was a wild groan that came from deep inside him and seemed to explode in her ears.



When she regained consciousness and opened her eyes, George Mellis was sitting in a chair, fully dressed, smoking a cigarette. He moved over to the bed and stroked her forehead. She cringed from his touch.



"How do you feel, darling?"



Eve tried to sit up, but the pain was too great. She felt as though she had been ripped apart. "You goddamned animal..." Her voice was a ragged whisper.



He laughed. "I was gentle with you."



She looked at him in disbelief.



He smiled. "I can sometimes be very rough." He stroked her hair again. "But I love you, so I was kind. You'll get used to it, Hree-se'e-moo. I promise you."



If she had had a weapon at that moment, Eve would have killed him. "You're insane!"



She saw the gleam that came into his eyes, and she saw his hand clench into a fist, and in that instant she knew stark terror. He was insane.



She said quickly, "I didn't mean it. It's just that I - I've never experienced anything like that before. Please, I'd like to go to sleep now. Please."



George Mellis stared at her for a long moment, and then relaxed. He rose and walked over to the dressing table where Eve had put her jewelry. There was a platinum bracelet and an expensive diamond necklace lying there. He scooped up the necklace, examined it and slipped it into his pocket. "I'll keep this as a little souvenir."



She was afraid to open her mouth to protest.



"Good night, darling." And he walked back to the bed, leaned over and gently kissed Eve's lips.



She waited until he had gone, and then crawled out of bed, her body burning with pain. Every step was an agony. It was not until she had locked the bedroom door that she felt safe again. She was not sure she would be able to make it to the bathroom, and she fell back onto the bed, waiting for the pain to recede. She couldn't believe the enormity of the rage she felt. He had sodomized her - horribly and brutally. She wondered what he had done to that other girl who had wanted to commit suicide.



When Eve finally dragged herself into the bathroom and looked in the mirror, she was aghast. Her face was bruised and discolored where he had hit her, and one eye was almost swollen shut. She ran a hot bath and crawled into it like a wounded animal, letting the soothing water wash away the pain. Eve lay there for a long time, and, finally, when the water was starting to cool, she got out of the tub and took a few tentative steps. The pain had lessened, but it was still agonizing. She lay awake for the rest of the night, terrified that he might return.



When Eve arose at dawn, she saw that the sheets were stained with her blood. She was going to make him pay for that. She walked into the bathroom, moving carefully, and ran another hot bath. Her face was even more swollen and the bruises were livid. She dipped a washcloth into cold water and applied it to her cheek and eye. Then she lay in the tub, thinking about George Mellis. There was something puzzling about his behavior that had nothing to do with his sadism. And she suddenly realized what it was. The necklace. Why had he taken it?



Two hours later, Eve went downstairs to join the other guests for breakfast, even though she had no appetite. She badly needed to talk to Nita Ludwig.



"My God! What happened to your face?" Nita asked.



Eve smiled ruefully. "The silliest thing. I got up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, and I didn't bother turning on the light. I walked right into one of your fancy doors."



"Would you like to have a doctor look at that?"



"It's nothing," Eve assured her. "It's just a little bruise." Eve looked around. "Where's George Mellis?"



"He's out playing tennis. He's one of the top-seeded players. He said to tell you he'd see you at lunch. I think he really likes you, darling."



"Tell me about him," Eve said casually. "What's his background?"



"George? He comes from a long line of wealthy Greeks. He's the oldest son, and he's filthy rich. He works at a New York brokerage firm, Hanson and Hanson."



"He's not in the family business?"



"No. He probably hates olives. Anyway, with the Mellis fortune, he doesn't have to work. I suppose he does it just to occupy his days." She grinned and said, "His nights are full enough."



"Are they?"



"Darling, George Mellis is the most eligible bachelor around. The girls can't wait to pull their little panties down for him. They all see themselves as the future Mrs. Mellis. Frankly, if my husband weren't so damned jealous, I'd go for George myself. Isn't he a gorgeous hunk of animal?"



"Gorgeous," Eve said.



George Mellis walked onto the terrace where Eve was seated alone, and in spite of herself, she felt a stab of fear.



He walked up to her and said, "Good morning, Eve. Are you all right?" His face was filled with genuine concern. He touched her bruised cheek gently. "My darling, you are so beautiful." He pulled up a chair and straddled it, sitting across from her, and gestured toward the sparkling sea. "Have you ever seen anything so lovely?"



It was as though the previous night had never happened. She listened to George Mellis as he went on talking, and she felt once again the powerful magnetism of the man. Even after the nightmare she had experienced, she could still feel that. It was incredible. He looks like a Greek god. He belongs in a museum. He belongs in an insane asylum.



"I have to return to New York tonight," George Mellis was saying. "Where can I call you?"



"I just moved," Eve said quickly. "I don't have a telephone yet. Let me call you."



"All right, my darling." He grinned. "You really enjoyed last night, didn't you?"



Eve could not believe her ears.



"I have many things to teach you, Eve," he whispered.



And I have something to teach you, Mr. Mellis, Eve promised herself.



The moment she returned home, Eve telephoned Dorothy Hollister. In New York, where an insatiable segment of the media covered the comings and goings of the so-called beautiful people, Dorothy was the fountainhead of information. She had been married to a socialite, and when he divorced her for his twenty-one-year-old secretary, Dorothy Hollister was forced to go to work. She took a job that suited her talents well: She became a gossip columnist. Because she knew everyone in the milieu she was writing about, and because they believed she could be trusted, few people kept any secrets from her.



If anyone could tell Eve about George Mellis, it would be Dorothy Hollister. Eve invited her to lunch at La Pyramide. Hollister was a heavyset woman with a fleshy face, dyed red hair, a loud, raucous voice and a braying laugh. She was loaded down with jewelry - all fake.



When they had ordered, Eve said casually, "I was in the Bahamas last week. It was lovely there."



"I know you were," Dorothy Hollister said. "I have Nita Ludwig's guest list. Was it a fun party?"



Eve shrugged. "I saw a lot of old friends. I met an interesting man named" - she paused, her brow wrinkled in thought - "George somebody. Miller, I think. A Greek."



Dorothy Hollister laughed, a loud, booming laugh that could be heard across the room. "Mellis, dear. George Mellis."



"That's right. Mellis. Do you know him?"



"I've seen him. I thought I was going to turn into a pillar of salt. My God, he's fantastic looking."



"What's his background, Dorothy?"



Dorothy Hollister looked around, then leaned forward confidentially. "No one knows this, but you'll keep it to yourself, won't you? George is the black sheep of the family. His family is in the wholesale food business, and they're too rich for words, my dear. George was supposed to take over the business, but he got in so many scrapes over there with girls and boys and goats, for all I know, that his father and his brothers finally got fed up and shipped him out of the country."



Eve was absorbing every word.



"They cut the poor boy off without a drachma, so he had to go to work to support himself."



So that explained the necklace!



"Of course, he doesn't have to worry. One of these days George will marry rich." She looked over at Eve and asked, "Are you interested, sweetie?"



"Not really."



Eve was more than interested. George Mellis might be the key she had been looking for. The key to her fortune.



Early the next morning, she telephoned him at the brokerage firm where he worked. He recognized her voice immediately.



"I've been going mad waiting for your call, Eve. We'll have dinner tonight and - "



"No. Lunch, tomorrow."



He hesitated, surprised. "All right. I was supposed to have lunch with a customer, but I'll put him off."



Eve did not believe it was a him. "Come to my apartment," Eve said. She gave him the address. "I'll see you at twelve-thirty."



"I'll be there." She could hear the smug satisfaction in his voice.



George Mellis was due for a surprise.



He arrived thirty minutes late, and Eve realized it was a pattern with him. It was not a deliberate rudeness, it was an indifference, the knowledge that people would always wait for him. His pleasures would be there for him whenever he bothered to reach out and take them. With his incredible looks and charm, the world belonged to him. Except for one thing: He was poor. That was his vulnerable point.



George looked around the little apartment, expertly appraising the value of its contents. "Very pleasant."



He moved toward Eve, his arms outstretched. "I've thought about you every minute."



She evaded his embrace. "Wait. I have something to tell you, George."



His black eyes bored into hers. "We'll talk later."



"We'll talk now." She spoke slowly and distinctly. "If you ever touch me like that again, I'm going to kill you."



He looked at her, his lips curved in a half smile. "What kind of joke is that?"



"It's not a joke. I mean it. I have a business proposition for you."



There was a puzzled expression on his face. "You called me here to discuss business?"



"Yes. I don't know how much you make conning silly old ladies into buying stocks and bonds, but I'm sure it's not enough."



His face went dark with anger. "Are you crazy? My family - "



"Your family is rich - you're not. My family is rich - I'm not. We're both in the same leaky rowboat, darling. I know a way we can turn it into a yacht." She stood there, watching his curiosity get the better of his anger.



"You'd better tell me what you're talking about."



"It's quite simple. I've been disinherited from a very large fortune. My sister Alexandra hasn't."



"What does that have to do with me?"



"If you married Alexandra, that fortune would be yours - ours."



"Sorry. I could never stand the idea of being tied down to anyone."



"As it happens," Eve assured him, "that's no problem. My sister has always been accident-prone."