His hand tightened around the medallion as he remembered that she wasn't alone in that hotel room. According to the dossier, one Neal Sabine had recently moved in with her. With a start he realized he was actually shaking with rage. He took a deep breath and unclenched his hand. His palm throbbed slightly from the welt the raised design had left on his flesh. For a moment he had visualized that black velvet gown being slipped off her body by the faceless man in the report. He had seen her smile and stretch out on the bed, hold out her arms ... He shook his head to clear it. The emotion he was feeling was too strong. If he continued this way, the obsession of which he'd been so wary would grow until he could no longer term it minor.
He didn't like not knowing everything there was to know about this new Pandora. The Blackwell report had been annoyingly scanty. Blackwell's man, Denbrook, had seemed to think that Pandora's romantic affairs were all that he was interested in.
He turned and walked slowly across the room to the phone on the table by the couch. He picked up the receiver and reached into the drawer for the business card Blackwell's man had given him. Martin Denbrook. He punched in the number rapidly.
"Denbrook? Philip El Kabbar. I've decided I want that in-depth report as soon as possible." He paused as he remembered Pandora's obvious reluctance for him to see her perform. "And I want a ticket for the Nemesis concert tomorrow night. Not too close to the stage." Denbrook started to protest, but he cut him off. "I want it. Get one for yourself too. There are scalpers at every sold-out concert. Get it for me." He hung up a few minutes later. He sat on the couch and stretched his legs out before him, his eyes fixed abstractedly on the door that Pandora had closed behind her such a short time before. His uneasiness persisted, but he knew that no matter what he discovered behind Pandora's alluring mask, his decision was already made.
The surge of primitive jealousy he'd felt when he'd imagined her with Neal Sabine was too strong to ignore. Whether she wore the medallion or not, she still belonged to him. This was the last night she would spend in her lover's arms. He should have kept her with him insteadof letting her go to that bastard, dammit. He had an idea he was going to get very little sleep tonight.
* * *
Pandora in concert was electrifying. From the moment thousands of daisies rained down on the screaming fans until the moment she disappeared into the smoke and strobe lights at the end of the long, circular runway that led backstage, she was riveting.
She was dressed in the Grecian tunic that seemed to be her trademark. It was the color of old ivory, and so silky and flimsy that it revealed legs as beautifully symmetrical as her body was curvaceous. But after the first few minutes neither Philip nor the screaming fans were conscious of her sexuality except in a subliminal fashion. It was her energy that captivated them. Her energy, and an emotion so raw and basic that it touched a response in every person in the audience. She exploded with it and thrived and shimmered in the flames that explosion left behind.
"She's fantastic, isn't she?" Denbrook asked as the lights went on. "I feel as if I've been put through a wringer and hung out to dry." He shook his head. "You know, I even forgot how luscious she is after the first few minutes. No wonder the concert was sold out."
"Yes, she's fantastic." Philip's face was thoughtful.
Seeing Pandora tonight had been a revelation. The woman behind the cool, sophisticated mask. So much power. So much emotion. Why had she tried to hide that emotion? Well, it would be interesting to find out. The next three months were going to prove very stimulating if tonight's concert was anything to go by. He rose. "I'm going backstage. Phone the airport and have the plane fueled and ready. Then go wait in the car."
Denbrook got to his feet. His expression was disapproving. "Why don't I go with you, at least until you get backstage? It's not safe to carry that little trinket in your pocket in this kind of crowd."
"I'm quite safe at the moment." There was a flicker of humor in the smile that touched Philip's lips. "Pandora has hung them all out to dry too."
* * *
It took him fifteen minutes to negotiate the cordon of security men that surrounded the performers, and his temper was more than a little on edge by the time a message had been sent to Pandora and he had been granted permission to go backstage. Evidently the security measures he had ordered were completely unnecessary.
She was still dressed in the thigh-length tunic, but she'd already shed that awful orange wig when he entered the dressing room. She looked up from brushing her hair. The annoying mask of sophistication was back, and it irritated him even more now that he'd seen what lay behind it.
"You must be very tired. That was quite a performance you put on out there," he said as he closed the door.
"You were in the audience?" She went still, halting the brush in midmotion.
"I saw a little of it," he said carelessly. "I may even be forced to go out to the lobby and buy a Pandora sweat shirt. I was impressed."
"Don't joke." The brush resumed its stroking rhythm. "I told you I didn't have any voice to speak of."
"But your lungs are every bit as admirable as you boasted." He paused. "I'm not at all sure you're the flash in the pan you claim to be."
He could see her hand tense on the handle of the brush. "That's because you're not a rock devotee. It's here today, gone tomorrow."
"Is it?" His look was quizzical. "Then we must make sure you have a little something to fall back on." He strolled toward her, reaching into his pocket as he did so. "I brought your medallion back."
"Did you?"
"But you didn't bring the box, so I was forced to substitute one of my own." He set down the object in his hand on the vanity in front of her. "I think you'll like this one better."
The box was perhaps two inches square and was the most fabulous piece of artistry she had ever beheld. It was composed entirely of large, square-cut emeralds set between rows of sparkling diamonds. She stared in disbelief. "It's magnificent," she murmured. "It must be absolutely priceless."
"I bought it. Nothing that can be bought is priceless." He opened the box. "But I think you'll find it an adequate demonstration of my generosity."
"I believe adequate is a gross understatement," she said dazedly. "I take it you've made up your mind?"
"Yes." He took the medallion out of the box and fastened it around her throat. "On consideration,
I found the idea of this particular kind of possession totally irresistible." His eyes met hers in the mirror as his hands slid beneath the low neckline of the tunic to cup her naked breasts. "You're very responsive," he noted with cool objectivity. "You like my hands on you, don't you?"