by Lynne Graham
The bed in the spacious bedroom was new, she was relieved to note, but the elaborate ebonised furniture followed the same theme as the ground-floor décor. Max opened a door to show off a high-tech en suite and she smiled. ‘That must be a recent improvement.’
‘When the electric and plumbing were being renewed Mr Drakos took the opportunity to install bathrooms and replace the kitchen. The redecoration project is awaiting the attention of the new mistress of the house,’ Max remarked, flicking her a conspiratorial sidewise glance that made her stiffen as comprehension set in.
Seemingly the older man had misinterpreted her role in Nikolai’s life and had assumed she was destined to be a wife, who would eventually take charge of the household. That was so far from the truth that it pained Ella like a nagging toothache. Max brought up her luggage and then reappeared with a beautiful long dress sheathed in a protective covering, other packaged items and several jewel boxes.
‘Deliveries from Mr Drakos,’ he announced. ‘He phoned to say that he would collect you at seven.’
Ella raised a brow and said nothing.
Unfurling her phone, she called Nikolai when Max had left the room. ‘It’s Ella. Are we going out tonight?’
‘Yes, I’m taking you to a gala dinner. I sent a dress, accessories and jewellery for you to wear. Haven’t you received them yet? Didn’t Max mention my call?’
‘Yes...and yes. But you should’ve informed me in person.’
Nikolai compressed his hard, sensual mouth. This was why he didn’t do relationships with women. He didn’t want the petty squabbles, the clingy expectations or the too easy taking of offence to disrupt his day. ‘I’m very busy,’ he told her honestly.
‘Since when have you been buying me clothes?’
‘This is your new life, Ella. There’ll be big changes. Get used to it.’
Seething at his stubborn, uncompromising stance, Ella ended the call. She unzipped the garment bag to reveal a designer gown. Although sleeveless and conservative in style, it was composed of the most beautiful white fabric overlaid with a shimmer of gold that glistened in the light. It was what Ella would have described as a dress fit for a princess and she was a little surprised it wasn’t pink in colour and very puffy in shape. Was this what mistresses were wearing this season? Surely something sleek and black with a plunging neckline would have been more appropriate? Then it occurred to her that she had very little to show off in a plunging neckline and she squirmed.
Her cheeks fired up at the acknowledgement that she had agreed to be Nikolai’s mistress. She studied the low, wide bed with its pristine white bedding and groaned out loud. Indecision was tearing her in two. Suddenly she felt as if she didn’t know herself any more because one half of her was beyond excited at the prospect of sharing that bed with Nikolai while the other half of her was shocked and panicky. Which of those halves was her true self? In that instant she felt plunged into emotional turmoil.
Could she do it? Have meaningless sex without making a fuss about it? She wanted him, didn’t she? The tightness in her chest eased at the acceptance of that fact, which made her feel more in control. Nikolai had forced a hard choice on her but what she made of the next step was solely her department. And if she was about to officially become a mistress there wasn’t much point in slinking about as though she were ashamed of herself. Her family was secure again and she was grateful for the fact. She would use Nikolai for experience. The giving wasn’t going to be all one-sided, she told herself firmly. She would be benefitting from his expertise. She wouldn’t let herself feel anything for him either, anything at all. When it was over she would walk back into her own life and take it up again. That was why it was so important that she return to her veterinary training and complete it, she thought ruefully. Her career would give her a firm foundation on which to build a fresh future and it would provide her with a focus as nothing else could.
In the midst of that thought she flipped open one of the jewellery boxes and blinked in amazement at the flash of an extravagant emerald and diamond pendant. Evidently Nikolai wanted to display her like an expensive trophy, a rich man’s toy. But why? She had assumed that for him it was all about sex, but now, instead of trying to take immediate advantage, he was marching her out to some formal public event. That didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense. Nothing he did made sense. Why on earth had he settled on her in the first place?
Simply because she was free and available at the right time for a price he was willing to pay? Or because he had really, really wanted her last year and would do just about anything to have her? A surprising sparkle lightened her troubled gaze. She knew which option she preferred. Nikolai’s proposition, his sheer, unscrupulous determination to get her into bed at any cost, was strangely flattering to a woman whose fiancé had resisted her supposed attractions at every turn.
As she went for a shower her eyes stung and misted with tears on that wounding thought.
‘It doesn’t have to be perfect,’ she had told Paul once. ‘I mean, I know it’s not going to be perfect the first time. I’m not stupid. But perfect doesn’t matter to me.’
Unfortunately it had evidently mattered a great deal to Paul. Yet sex wouldn’t be any more perfect with Nikolai, she reasoned ruefully before sensibly shutting down her memories. Nikolai wouldn’t expect perfect and something told her that he would take imperfect in his stride. He was complex but adaptable and she would have said he was less hung up on image had he not selected a dress and jewellery for her and ensured that she spent the day having her appearance tuned up at a beauty salon. Nikolai wanted her to look the very best she could and why shouldn’t he?
* * *
Nikolai stilled in the hall as Ella descended the stairs with the caution of a woman wearing very high heels. The chandelier high above her head glittered over her metallic-bronze hair, picking out the deep auburn and gold strands and enhancing the radiance of her skin. The gown lengthened and shaped her tiny frame and the emerald pendant and earrings threw her luminous green eyes into striking prominence. A slow smile of satisfaction slashed Nikolai’s forbidding mouth. He was very much looking forward to the evening ahead. It would kill Cyrus to see the woman he wanted with his mortal enemy.
And that was what the entire exercise was all about, he reminded himself darkly. Striking a blow at Cyrus was the goal, not taking Ella to bed. He tensed. Taking Ella to bed to taste that soft white skin, play with those luscious little breasts and sink so deep into her that she wouldn’t know where he began and she ended. The erotic images sizzled through his brain, cutting through rational thought. Hunger thrummed through him instead, kicking off the pulse at his groin until he throbbed with hungry need. His even white teeth gritted while he fought the reaction because this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
On the bottom step, Ella collided with Nikolai’s scorching dark golden eyes and her heart started banging like crazy inside her chest, every sense switching to super-sensitive levels. He was so beautiful it hurt. The luxuriant black of his hair, the sculpted slant of his hard cheekbones, the clean-shaven shadow outlining his strong jaw and wonderfully sensual and kissable lips. Taken aback by her own susceptibility, she sucked in a hasty breath and walked out to the waiting limousine with him.
‘I understand that this was your grandfather’s house. How long is it since he died?’ Ella asked quietly.
Nikolai tensed, long tanned fingers curling against a powerful thigh. ‘Five years.’
‘Were you close?’
‘No, I never met him...’
‘Never?’ Ella studied him wide-eyed. ‘And yet he left you his house?’
‘And his vast business empire. He wasn’t a sentimental man but having an heir of his own blood was tremendously important to him,’ Nikolai divulged grudgingly, loathing the topic of conversation but too proud and private to admit his sensitivity to it.
He had long since come to terms with his grandfather’s essential indifference to him as a human being. The old man had paid for his education, and thanks to that Nikolai had been able to build on his strengths and advance in life, he thought. Sadly his grandfather had not been equally generous to Nikolai’s sister, Sofia, because his sole interest had been in his male grandchild. Nikolai’s conscience was still weighted by the knowledge that his only sibling had had to leave school young, work in menial jobs in Athens and scrimp and save for survival. Even more regrettably he had come into his inheritance too late to protect or help the young woman who had been more of a mother to him than a sister. Sofia had died before he could express his gratitude or show his affection, because as a boy and young man he had been thoughtless and selfish, taking his only sibling for granted while making his home in London where he studied and worked for a pittance in those early years.
‘How strange,’ Ella remarked and, having picked up on his distaste for the subject, she said no more. She settled into the plush interior of the car.
‘This evening if you’re asked any nosy questions about our relationship just ignore them. We met last year and now we’re together. That’s all anyone needs to know,’ he told her flatly.
What Nikolai had mentioned was as much as she knew herself, which made it impossible for her to betray any secrets. And were there secrets? Oh, yes, she felt in her bones that there were. But prying was forbidden because she was only with Nikolai for her family’s benefit, she reminded herself firmly. She wasn’t planning to get involved with him or his life or his secrets. Neither was she about to take an interest in his preferences or his moods. As far as possible she would keep herself as detached as he was. In the circumstances that was her first and only line of defence.
‘Have you got that?’ Nikolai prompted in the silence.
‘Right. Got it,’ Ella made a teasing zipping motion along her mouth. ‘No chatterbox here to worry about.’
Nikolai studied her in surprise. With that dancing sparkle in her eyes and the cheeky tilt to her chin below the almost smiling, upward curve of her lush lips, she looked radiant. Involuntarily his gaze lingered. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said without meaning to.
Disconcertion widened her eyes and she flushed, turning her head away to look out at the city streets flashing past the window. In the flare of the street lights his eyes had changed from onyx dark and guarded to that melted caramel shade she was so partial to and butterflies had fluttered in her tummy. Butterflies, as if she were a blasted schoolgirl! she scolded herself in disgust. Was there some foolish part of her trying to romanticise his plans for her? Yes, Nikolai Drakos wanted her...but only for a little while. He didn’t want her to keep. He didn’t want to get to know her concerns or share them. Sex would be superficial, fleeting. She had to stay sensible or she would get hurt because he was a terrifyingly attractive man, whose mystery simply gave him added depth.
As they left the limousine Nikolai banded a hand to her back. Her spine was rigid. She was as tense as he was. ‘By the way, you might see your old friend Cyrus Makris tonight.’
Ella frowned. ‘Cyrus isn’t back from China yet.’
‘He is,’ Nikolai contradicted. ‘But if he’s here tonight you don’t speak to him.’
Aghast at the command, Ella twisted round to look at his lean dark features, recognising the hardness etched there. ‘But—’
‘No argument. You’re with me now. You cut him dead,’ Nikolai instructed harshly.
‘Nikolai, that’s not fair.’
‘I never promised to play fair,’ he murmured impatiently as a stout older woman clad in a sequinned dress hailed him with enthusiasm.
Nikolai seemed to know everyone and a great wave of introductions engulfed Ella. Pre-dinner drinks were being served when a woman moved to a podium to make a speech about the victims of domestic abuse. By the time she had finished speaking, Nikolai had embarked on a conversation with two men and with a whisper Ella headed off to find the cloakroom.
And that was the moment when she finally saw Cyrus. He crossed the foyer to intercept her. He was smaller, slighter than Nikolai, blond and blue-eyed with wings of grey at the temples. ‘Ella... I couldn’t believe it was you. What on earth are you doing here?’
Ella reddened, uneasy with the intensity of his stare and the angry flush on his cheeks. ‘I was planning to ring you but we haven’t spoken since you left.’
‘Your grandmother told me you were in London but said she didn’t have your address.’
‘I haven’t had the chance to give it to her yet. I only arrived here today,’ she told him uncomfortably, forced to come to a halt when he closed a hand round her wrist, his grip painfully tight. ‘I’ve met someone, Cyrus.’
‘How is that possible? You hardly go out.’
‘You were always telling me to go out,’ she reminded him.
‘Not to find another man!’ he disclaimed angrily. ‘Who is he?’
‘Nikolai Drakos...he’s a—’
Cyrus’s grip on her went limp and then fell away altogether. He frowned in disbelief. ‘You’re here in London with Drakos?’
Ella nodded slowly, watching a further flush of colour redden Cyrus’s face while his mouth flattened into a livid line. ‘We have to talk about this. Drakos is a complete bastard with women! He’s notorious. How the hell did this happen?’
‘Ella...’
The voice was cold as ice but she already knew it as well as she knew her own. A shiver of cold ran down her spine as she turned her head slowly and saw Nikolai glowering at her from several feet away.
‘Cloakroom,’ she mumbled and fled.
Cyrus simply walked away as fast as he could. He had never stood up to Nikolai, never allowed the younger man the opportunity to confront him. He was a little weasel, brutal with those physically weaker but a complete coward with other men.
‘Well, that was a very special viewing. Cyrus is devastated,’ an older woman paused by Nikolai’s elbow to remark. ‘It’s only been a couple of weeks since I sent you that email. You certainly don’t let the grass grow under your feet.’
‘No, I got the girl,’ Nikolai conceded. ‘Does that make you happy, Marika?’
‘Seeing my brother suffer always makes me happy,’ she admitted, her dark eyes even colder than Nikolai’s. ‘And you’re a hero. Pat yourself on the back. You’ve saved the girl from whatever disgusting plans he had for her. I don’t think there’s enough money in the world to compensate a woman for what life with Cyrus would entail.’
As Nikolai hovered awaiting Ella’s reappearance, he acknowledged that the very last thing he felt just then was heroic. Naked rage had stormed through him when he saw Cyrus touching Ella, fondling her wrist like the dirty old man he was. He had almost forgotten where he was and his innate aggression had almost spilled over into violence. And that reality deeply disturbed him.
Why had he got so worked up? On the rare occasions that he saw Cyrus, he was accustomed to blanking him and Cyrus made it easier still by avoiding him. But somehow seeing Ella that close to Cyrus had outraged and revolted him. Hadn’t he warned her not to speak to him? Didn’t she ever listen? Had she no sense of self-preservation? Nostrils flaring, Nikolai gritted his teeth on a fierce surge of temper.
He knew he was no hero. A real hero would have saved his sister. His abject failure in that department had devastated him. He knew that, accepted that, was aware he had never really felt anything emotional since Sofia’s death. Nor did he want to feel anything because feeling love was a weakness and it made you a target.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLA FRESHENED UP in the cloakroom.
Her hands were shaking and her wrist ached where Cyrus had held it too tight. The instant she had seen his anger Gramma’s warning had come back to haunt her. An old friend might have been annoyed by being left ou
t of the loop about her move to London but Cyrus had been enraged, incredulous. In the past he had repeatedly urged her to socialise more but apparently not to find another man, he had angrily declared.
Suddenly everything Ella had believed she knew about Cyrus had been thrown into turmoil. Surely she was wrong, surely she had to be wrong?
Troubled, she looked back on the history of their relationship. Before Paul’s illness was diagnosed he had applied to Cyrus for a working placement in one of the older man’s businesses.
‘Yes, I’m trying to pull strings because he’s my uncle but why shouldn’t I?’ Paul had said defensively. ‘My mother was the daughter of a very rich Greek but she was thrown out of the family for marrying my father because he was British and poor by their standards. Cyrus is her brother. I’ll have to hope that he’s not as prejudiced as his father.’
Ella had been with Paul the first time he’d met his uncle and Cyrus had given him the placement. Later he had invited them both to his country house and had pledged his support while Paul was ill. He had not let them down either, Ella recalled unhappily. Yes, Cyrus had been different with her tonight but wasn’t there some excuse for his anger? He was a friend but she certainly hadn’t treated him like a friend. She could’ve told him she was coming to London with Nikolai, but she hadn’t because Nikolai had insisted that no one other than her family and Rosie was allowed to know that she was leaving home.
* * *
Ella glided back to Nikolai’s side and within minutes they were being seated at their table. There was no opportunity for any private conversation but Nikolai’s grim profile and clipped speech spoke for him. Nikolai was angry with her and what remained of the evening passed in an uncomfortable blur. He had told her to cut Cyrus dead and she had disobeyed. But how could she cut dead the man who had found Paul an apartment close to the hospital where he had been receiving treatment? The man who had housed him and hired a nurse to care for him while he was dying? The man who had been by her side when Paul had breathed his last? Tears burned at the backs of Ella’s eyes.