Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled With Rubies
Page 17
‘Did you read the report?’ Cold and relentless, his voice continued to torment her and she turned, understanding the full meaning of his question without needing elaboration.
‘If you’re asking me whether I knew she was drunk, then the answer is yes,’ she said quietly, noting the flash of surprise in his eyes. ‘What? Did you think I didn’t know? Or did you think I’d deny that knowledge?’
‘Since you evidently hold me responsible for the accident despite the fact that the report completely absolved my family of blame or responsibility, I thought the facts might have escaped you.’
She stared at him in disbelief. ‘The facts are that Tiffany was young, Mr Kyriacou. She celebrated her eighteenth birthday just two months before she started working in one of your hotels. Most eighteen-year-olds have been drunk at some point or another; it’s part of the passage into adulthood.’
‘Have you, Dr Littlewood?’
She frowned. ‘I fail to see the relevance of that question.’
‘Really?’ He gave a faint smile, so maddeningly calm and detached that she wondered for a moment if he was a lawyer by training. He seemed to be trying to trap her into saying something that would absolve him of responsibility.
‘If you’re suggesting that Tiffany’s slightly inebriated state in any way exonerates you of blame then I’m afraid I don’t see it that way. I find your complete indifference nothing short of insulting given the circumstances. You were the reason she drank that night! It was all your fault!’
Why had she always avoided confrontation in the past? It was actually remarkably liberating being able to say exactly what she thought.
Apparently unmoved by her accusations, Nikos raised a dark eyebrow in sardonic appraisal. ‘You think I held the bottle to her lips?’
‘I think you might as well have done. In normal circumstances you and my sister would never have crossed paths but unfortunately fate threw you together.’
‘Fate?’ The heavy sarcasm in his voice goaded her still further. She didn’t know what he was implying but it was clearly something derogatory.
‘My sister was a waitress! She had a two-year contract with your hotel! Her only role at jet-set parties was pouring champagne into the glasses of people like you!’ Her voice echoed round the stone walls of the museum and she took a deep breath and forced herself to lower her voice. There had already been more than enough gossip surrounding her family. She didn’t need more. ‘Tiffany was young and starry eyed and you took advantage of that. You were totally out of her league, Mr Kyriacou, and you should have recognised that even if she didn’t. You should have stuck to models and actresses and other women who understand the rules of the games you choose to play. But you just couldn’t resist my sister, could you?’ Her voice rang with contempt. ‘You took advantage of her innocence and broke her heart.’
There was a long, tense silence. A silence during which he studied her face with a disturbing degree of concentration. ‘It is not my wish to defame your sister’s character,’ he breathed, ‘but clearly we have a significantly different interpretation of events and also of your sister’s personality.’
‘Of course we have! How else would you be able to live comfortably with your conscience? You’ve clearly managed to persuade yourself that you were totally without blame. But the truth is that Tiffany had never even had a proper boyfriend until she went to Greece and yet you—’ She broke off, hot colour flooding her cheeks and he tilted his proud, handsome head in question.
‘—and yet I?’ His prompt was lethally soft. ‘Please don’t hold back on my account, Dr Littlewood. Please enlighten me as to my behaviour towards your innocent sister. I confess I’m fascinated by your alternative view on the world. Clearly you’ve spent a significant proportion of your life closeted in the depths of museums and universities.’
Why, she wondered in silent amazement, did women find him so attractive? Was it the air of danger? The sense of menace? It was like confronting a tiger with sheathed claws, knowing that it would take little for him to display his deadly power.
True, he was extraordinarily handsome but he had an icy, remote quality that made her shiver.
Angie thought of all the things that her mother had said about Nikos Kyriacou. Thought of the file of pictures she’d kept on the man. The fact that her mother had been proud of her sister’s new romantic attachment had filled Angie with horror and frustration.
‘The man is at least fifteen years older than her,’ she’d pointed out, but her mother had merely shrugged dismissively.
‘He’s loaded, Angie, not to mention influential. Whatever happens now, she’s made. Being with him will give her access to circles that she never would have had a chance of entering if she hadn’t been on his arm. They say he has billions—that he’s absolutely brilliant at business. So clever. He’s dated supermodels and actresses, but never for more than a few weeks at a time because apparently he has no intention of ever marrying. And yet he’s been seeing our Tiffany for at least six weeks! It’s obviously serious. Can you believe that?’
She’d had great trouble believing it. ‘Why would a man like Nikos Kyriacou be interested in Tiffany?’ If he were truly as clever as rumour suggested, then Tiffany, whose conversational skills didn’t extend beyond fashion and hairstyles, would surely have bored him in minutes. She’d loved her sister, but love hadn’t blinded her to the truth.
Her mother had bristled at the question. ‘Tiffany is extremely pretty,’ she’d said defensively, ‘and a traditional Greek male values beauty in a woman, not brains. I don’t expect you to understand because your idea of a good night is having your nose stuck in some big fat book with long words in a foreign language, but when a man comes home from a hard day making millions he’s hoping for something a little more stimulating than conversation. Not that you’d know anything about that.’
Angie had given a murmur of derision, wondering why it was that brilliant men turned into idiots when confronted by a pretty face. She’d seen it with her father. Clearly Nikos Kyriacou suffered from the same lack of restraint when it came to women. Her mother was right. It was something that she didn’t understand and never would.
Looking at him now, there was no doubt in her mind where the responsibility for her sister’s death lay. ‘Tiffany was very innocent. At the very worst she was perhaps a little foolish.’
‘You think so?’
She thought she detected a dangerous flash of fire in his dark eyes but it vanished in an instant and he appeared as controlled as ever. Unlike her. She felt the last strands of control slipping from her grasp. Telling herself that it was impossible to appeal to the conscience of a man who clearly didn’t possess one, Angie launched a powerful defence of her sister.
‘You’re supposed to be a sophisticated man of the world. I can’t believe you couldn’t see what was beneath the blonde hair and make-up. I can’t believe you didn’t know the truth about her.’
‘I knew all about her,’ he said flatly, a tiny muscle flickering in his lean cheek, ‘but I’m starting to wonder whether you did.’
‘I know my sister always dressed and acted in a way that suggested that she was far older than she actually was. But she was a child. She didn’t play by your rules and you must have known that! You should never have made false promises.’
He inhaled sharply and his eyes narrowed. ‘What promises am I supposed to have made?’
Angie shook her head, unable to believe that even he had the gall to deny what he’d done. ‘You vowed to marry her and we both know that would never have happened. It’s well documented that marriage never appears on your agenda.’
There was a long, tense silence. ‘What makes you think I promised to marry her?’
‘Because she told me! I’m sure you were hoping that she’d kept your proposal a secret. How very inconvenient for you that she didn’t!’ Her hands shaking, Angie reached for her bag and rummaged inside for her mobile phone. ‘She sent me a text two weeks before she died. Two w
eeks before she fell from your balcony, Mr Kyriacou.’
He was unnaturally still. ‘Show me.’
She scrolled down through the texts and stopped when she reached ‘Tiffy’. The name brought a lump to her throat. ‘It says: “N going to marry me. So happy!” She was alive when she sent that text—’ She thrust the phone into his hand and swallowed hard. She wasn’t going to cry. ‘She was in love with you and she was happy. The next text was sent the night she fell. Read it, why don’t you?’
‘“Just discovered truth about N. Hate him.”’ He read the words aloud, staring at the phone in his hand, his tension visible. ‘So it was true then. She did expect marriage,’ he breathed and Angie gave a humourless laugh.
‘And why would that come as a shock to you? Because she should have known better than to believe you when you promised to marry her? Tiff was a young girl and like all young girls her head was full of romance and happy endings.You ought to remember that next time you contemplate having some fun with a teenage girl. She was no match for a man like you and you broke her heart! Presumably that was why she was drunk that night. She’d discovered the sort of man you really are!’
Something dangerous flared in his eyes. ‘You know nothing about the sort of man I am, Dr Littlewood.’
‘I know that my sister shouldn’t have been anywhere near you! Every time I open a newspaper you’re with another woman.’ A beautiful, glamorous woman. ‘It’s obvious that you see the female sex as entertainment and nothing more.’
The tension in his powerful frame increased significantly. ‘And you always believe what you read in newspapers?’
‘Not all the detail, of course not. I’m not stupid. But the stories have to come from somewhere.’
‘Is that right?’
‘Which brings us back to the question of what a man like you was doing with a girl like Tiffany.’
‘I’m sure you’ll tell me, given that you know so much about me from such a reliable source.’ There was a biting edge to his tone that made her stiffen.
‘Don’t play games with me and don’t ever joke about my sister’s death!’
‘Believe me, I don’t consider anything about your sister to be funny, least of all her death.’ There was something about his excessive stillness that made her increasingly uneasy and suddenly the fight drained out of her and she just wanted him to leave.
She sank on to her chair and rubbed her hands over the fabric of her plain, practical navy trousers. ‘Please go.’ Her voice was husky and she removed her glasses and looked up at him. ‘I don’t know why you came here, but I want you to leave now. And I want you to promise not to go anywhere near my mother.’
That cold gaze rested on her face and a faint frown touched his dark, sculpted brows. ‘Why do you wear glasses?’
‘I’m sorry?’ The irrelevance of the question threw her and she blinked in astonishment as she stared up at him. She noticed for the first time that his lashes were very thick and very dark and softened the otherwise hard lines of his handsome face. ‘I need them for very close work, for seeing detail, but I don’t understand why you—’
‘You should wear contact lenses. It won’t compensate for your unfortunate personality but it would at least soften your appearance and make you appear more feminine.’
She gave a gasp of outrage, just mortified by the personal nature of his less than flattering comment. She shouldn’t care, she reminded herself. All her life her mother had been making similar comments about her appearance. Angie, wear a dress. Angie, have a haircut. Angie, wear make-up. She didn’t seem to understand that dressing up wouldn’t make a difference. Her eldest daughter was plain. She’d been born plain and she’d die plain. And it didn’t matter to her. All that mattered at the moment was that she’d lost her little sister.
Feeling emotions that she didn’t entirely understand, she immediately fumbled for her glasses and slipped them back on to her nose. ‘I’m not interested in your opinion on anything, Mr Kyriacou.’ Her voice trembled as much as her fingers. ‘The only thing that interests me is the reason for your visit. Clearly you didn’t come to apologise, so why did you come? Or do you take pleasure in viewing other people’s distress? Are you one of those people who slow down on the motorway to view an accident on the opposite carriageway?’
There was a long silence while he studied her, a silence during which she grew more and more uncomfortable. Why was he looking at her like that? Was he ever going to speak?
Finally he drew breath and something in the depths of his dark eyes made her stomach flip with nerves. Instinctively she sensed that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
‘Why did you come here?’ Her voice cracked slightly and his mouth hardened.
‘Have you ever heard of the Brandizi diamond?’
His question was so unexpected that she frowned. ‘Why would I?’
He gave a faint smile and waved a hand around the room she worked in, gestured to the various artefacts that surrounded her. ‘Because you’re interested in history and legend, Dr Littlewood, and the Brandizi diamond is surrounded by both.’
‘As you’ve already pointed out, my speciality is Greek art and pottery of the classical era. I know very little about jewellery. ’ She straightened her shoulders. ‘I fail to understand the relevance of this conversation.’
‘The Brandizi diamond is one of the most valuable stones ever documented. It is a flawless pink diamond. The exact date of the piece is unknown, but it is believed to have been commissioned by an Indian prince as a gift for his first wife as a symbol of eternal love. Apparently he believed in such things.’ His faint smile of derision revealed his thoughts on that topic. ‘Great superstition surrounds the diamond.’
Even though she would have walked on broken glass sooner than admit it, something in his cool, cultured tones had caught her imagination. Angie’s eyes slid to the fragments of pottery that lay on her desk. ‘Myth and legend are always closely aligned with ancient artefacts. Much can be learned about people’s beliefs by studying the art of the time.’
‘The stone came into the possession of my family several generations ago. It has traditionally been passed down to the eldest son to offer as a gift to the woman of his heart. It is of incalculable value in both monetary and emotional terms.’
Her own heart started to beat faster and she felt the rush of excitement that she always felt when discussing the past. But then she reminded herself that Nikos Kyriacou wasn’t another academic and she couldn’t afford the luxury of conversation with this man, however stimulating the subject.
‘I fail to see what any of this has to do with my sister.’
He looked at her for a long moment and then strolled over to a cabinet and examined one of the pots on display, leaving Angie to stare at his glossy dark hair and broad shoulders with increasing frustration.
She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘What does this diamond have to do with my sister?’
‘Everything.’ He turned then, a muscle flickering in his hard jaw, his eyes glinting Mediterranean-dark. ‘Your sister was wearing the Brandizi diamond on the night she fell from my balcony, Dr Littlewood. I suspect that it was amongst her belongings when they were returned to you. And now I want it back.’
Chapter Two
ANGIE stared at him in astonishment. ‘My sister was wearing this rare diamond the night she died? The Brandizi diamond? The one that’s worth gazillions?’
She saw the tension ripple through his powerful frame. ‘That is correct.’
‘The same diamond that is given by the men of your family to the women as a symbol of eternal love?’ She gave a disbelieving laugh, finally appreciating the true irony of the situation. ‘Did my sister know that story?’
His strong jaw was clenched. ‘Very possibly.’
‘So the fact that she was wearing the diamond would have supported her genuine belief that you loved her and intended to marry her, wouldn’t it?’
‘For a respected archa
eologist, you have an alarming gift for misinterpreting the facts, Dr Littlewood,’ he growled softly and she gave a humourless laugh.
‘On the contrary, I think I’m just establishing the facts for the first time. Answer me a question, Mr Kyriacou. Did you love my sister?’
His hesitation answered the question. ‘We had an understanding, ’ he said finally and she nodded.
‘I’m sure you did. My sister was young and very easily seduced by the prospect of money and romance. She would have been easy prey for a sophisticated man of your experience.’
‘I refuse to discuss the circumstances of your sister’s death any further,’ he growled and she had some satisfaction in noticing that his icy cool had finally melted away to be replaced by simmering anger. ‘All you need to know is that the diamond did not belong to her.’
And clearly he wanted it back.
Aware that she now had the power to make his life extremely uncomfortable, Angie felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. The fact that he had shown absolutely no emotion towards her sister and yet now seemed increasingly tense, merely supported her poor opinion of him. He was a man interested in money, power and possessions. Nothing more. He cared more about the loss of the diamond than he did about the loss of her sister. That, he’d made clear, was nothing more than an inconvenience for him. Had the diamond not been around her sister’s neck when she’d died, Angie had absolutely no doubt that he wouldn’t have bothered to make this visit and the knowledge increased her own anger. He should be made to care.
‘But if she was wearing it the night of her death, the night she fell from your balcony, then presumably you must have given it to her. And what was it you just said?’ She frowned slightly, pretending to think, drawing out the confrontation with relish. ‘That it was a symbol of love, given to the “woman of your heart”? Presumably that’s why Tiffany sent that text. She knew that once she was wearing the famed necklace, her future as your wife was surely secure.’