The Millionaire's Daughter (The Carew Stepsisters Book 1)

by Sophie Weston

  All because of Kosta, who would stay a month if she was lucky. After which he would presumably move on to pastures new, leaving her—where? In the middle of the fifth dimension with no signposts.

  What had he done to her? What had she let him do?

  Berating herself thoroughly, Annis went through the room, turning off lights and plumping up cushions as if her life depended on it. Then she sank down on the armchair in the window and cradled the warm mug to her kimonoed breast. Bleak autumn winds were stirring the passion flower that climbed over her small balcony. Annis shivered.

  The man was a sexual buccaneer. She had seen his little black book on his computer. Yet last night she had called him her love. Her only hope was that, having been carried away with the glory of the moment, she would find that she had not meant it this morning.

  ‘What’s cooking?’ said Kosta behind her.

  Three things happened simultaneously. Annis swung round, nearly dropping her mug and spilling tea far and wide. Kosta, incongruously alluring with a bath towel looped—just—over his narrow hips, gave her a sleepy, lopsided smile. And Annis realised that she had meant it all right. No matter how sensibly her left brain analysed the issues to prove otherwise, the truth was that she was in love with this renegade. Certainly hopelessly and probably unalterably. But, whichever way you dressed it up, horribly in love.

  ‘Oh, no!’

  She dropped her head in her hands. The mug fell to the floor unheeded. Kosta shot across the room and fell on one knee beside her chair.

  ‘You’ve hurt yourself.’

  Oh, boy, had she hurt herself! He could not begin to guess.

  ‘No,’ said Annis in a muffled voice.

  ‘That stuff must have been hot.’

  He took her in his arms. There was not enough bath towel between them. Annis could feel his skin, the amazing organic whole that was Kosta, under her hands. In spite of herself, she caught her breath at the wonder of it. If he had persuaded her, she would have done anything for him then, no matter how deep her doubts.

  But he did not know about the doubts; he was much too sure of himself. ‘You should stick to champagne in the mornings,’ he said, a smile in his voice. ‘That way you don’t get scalded.’

  For a heavenly moment Annis let herself lie against him. Her cheek lay against the warmth of a hair-ruffled chest. It even felt like love. She felt his hand move over her hair. She had to stop herself turning her head so she could kiss him just where his heart beat so steadily.

  But then she reminded herself exactly why he was so sure of himself. And how many other women must have lain against him like this, basking briefly, so briefly, in the illusion of love. She folded her lips together so hard they hurt and flinched.

  ‘You did burn yourself,’ he said in concern. ‘Show me.’

  ‘No.’ Annis pushed him away and scrabbled upright. ‘You startled, me that’s all.’

  Her eyes felt suspiciously moist. She scrubbed her face with the back of her hand and tried not to sniff. Kosta loosened his hold on her but he did not let her go entirely. He sat back on his heels and scanned her face.

  ‘What is it?’

  If he had used one word of endearment, if he had even called her by her name, Annis would have told him every single doubt and fear she harboured. But he did not. She felt her heart contract with pain.

  She stood up and stepped round him.

  ‘Nothing,’ she said in a much steadier voice. ‘I need to get the tea out of the carpet before it stains.’

  She came back with an armful of cloths and cleaning materials gathered at random from under the kitchen sink. Blankly she stared at the largest stain on the pale Chinese rug. She had blotted up spills over and over again since she first bought the impractical colour. This time she could not even remember what to do first.

  Back in that fifth dimension where nothing normal held good any more, Annis thought grimly.

  Aloud she said brightly, ‘I need my cleaning lady. I haven’t the faintest idea what to do.’ Her voice was tight with tension

  For some reason that made Kosta frown as none of her previous evasiveness had done. He took a dry cloth from her impatiently. Then he dropped it over the stain and stamped on it a couple of times. When he picked it up the mark had gone.

  ‘Oh,’ said Annis, feeling a fool. ‘An expert.’ And she gave a high pitched laugh.

  ‘Inherited skill,’ he said dryly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s in the blood. That was what my mother did. Clean people’s houses.’

  Annis was so unnerved her throat tightened even harder. As a result her voice came out in a high drawl ‘Oh?’

  He looked at her narrowly. ‘Does it matter?’

  Annis had the feeling that she was looking into a gigantic elephant trap.

  ‘To me?’ Still that horrible, high voice. She struggled to control it. ‘No, why should it?’

  He did not like that either. She saw it at once.

  ‘Maybe because I matter.’

  Was this another of his obscure warnings?

  Annis said helplessly, ‘I don’t understand.’

  He looked down at the cloth in his hand as if he did not know how it had come there.

  ‘You mean, I don’t matter to you?’

  It sounded almost as if he wanted to matter, thought Annis. And this was the man who’d told her that commitment was strictly provisional. What did he want?

  She said, ‘Do you want to matter?’

  She sounded horrible, she thought in despair, arch and sophisticated and quite as if she did not care a jot.

  At least that must have been what Kosta thought. His face stiffened.

  ‘Don’t play games with me, Annis.’

  Her evil genius prompted her to say, ‘You mean you’re the only one allowed to play games?’

  His face closed up completely. ‘What does that mean?’

  Annis was remembering Jamie: the neglect, the point-scoring, the misaligned assumptions. And the way she had always ended apologising. Jamie had been able to have one of their frozen arguments and then steam off to work and put it out of his mind. But she hadn’t. It had nearly finished her career, to say nothing of her self-respect.

  ‘I can’t afford this,’ she said from the heart.

  The bones of his face stood out like a metal warrior-mask she had once seen in a museum. It made him look terrifying.

  ‘Tell me one thing,’ he said, barely opening his lips. ‘What was last night about?’

  Annis could not meet his eyes. ‘I had too much to drink.’

  ‘Not before you arrived. You threw yourself at me. You came dressed to throw yourself at me.’

  Her eyes flew up, indignant. ‘I didn’t.’

  But he took no notice. ‘What was it? Revenge because I said you were no good at flirting?’

  She was appalled ‘Don’t be stupid.’

  ‘Or was it simpler than that? Was it an experiment? New look, new man for the night?’

  It was so far from the truth that Annis laughed aloud. It was a mistake.

  Kosta looked at her for a long, unreadable moment. Except that he was not unreadable if you knew him, of course. Annis could feel the anger licking up behind the still face as if she was actually watching the thermometer rise.

  Then he said quite pleasantly, ‘How many men have you tied up in knots while you decided whether they were what you wanted?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘And I said you didn’t know anything about chemistry,’ he said reflectively. ‘That must have given you a real laugh.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘That bedroom.’ He jerked his head. ‘When I saw it last night I thought you were a secret sensualist—all that light and colour and texture when you keep everything out here so neutral it disappears. But I was wrong. It’s your personal statement, isn’t it?’

  Annis was uneasy. ‘I—I suppose so.’

  ‘Your private joke against the rest of the world. Very
inventive.’ It was not a compliment. ‘And I agree—,’ savagery licked through the meditative tone ‘—you’re right to keep it behind a closed door. Gives a man the illusion of having made a discovery.’

  Annis blenched. ‘No,’ she protested faintly.

  ‘And when he thinks he has, you head for the hills.’

  ‘I don’t. I didn’t—’

  But she had bolted for privacy this morning and they both knew it.

  He came up to her and looked down into her face as if he was examining it under a microscope.

  ‘So what happened? Night of passion not up to your expectations?’

  Her eyes flared. He stopped dead and Annis saw comprehension leap into his face.

  ‘No, of course it isn’t that,’ he said, as if discovering the answer to an intellectual puzzle. ‘You weren’t expecting a night of passion at all, were you?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘And it’s scared you silly.’

  Annis began to feel sick. ‘Of course not,’ she said loudly.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It did not scare me. Nothing scares me.’

  He ignored that. ‘Passion not on your agenda, lovely Annis? Too red-blooded for you, is it?’

  Annis saw that he was very angry. She had to stop that hard, angry voice.

  ‘Stop it,’ she said clearly.

  He did not seem to hear her. He certainly wasn’t listening.

  ‘Bit too close to real life for a millionaire’s daughter who doesn’t know how to clean her own carpets?’

  He was still holding the cloth. With a vicious overarm movement he suddenly flung it against the wall. It recoiled hard. Annis jumped.

  He turned a smile on her that was all teeth and fury. ‘A shock was it, last night?’

  Annis lifted her chin. ‘For both of us, by the sound of it.’

  ‘It got out of control, didn’t it? You didn’t like that.’ His flashing smile cut like a knife. ‘Doesn’t go with the cool image. Nor with all the things you don’t do.’

  ‘If you say one word about my not dating, I shall throw things,’ said Annis dangerously.

  Kosta grabbed her by the upper arms. ‘No, you won’t, you’ll listen…’

  Annis gave a yell of indignation and kicked out.

  Kosta stopped dead.

  ‘What am I doing?’ he said hardly above a whisper.

  None of her kicks had connected but he let her go as if she were radioactive.

  ‘Out of control, indeed,’ he said quietly. He was very pale. ‘You’re right. This is nasty. I’ll go.’

  Annis sank bonelessly onto the sofa. She had not stopped trembling when he came back into the sitting room, fully dressed. At least he was wearing his dress trousers and last night’s crumpled white shirt. He had the black jacket looped over his shoulder.

  She pressed quivering fingers to her mouth. She felt as if she had just fallen out of a rocket and was still falling, not sure that she was ever going to hit the ground. It made her feel sick.

  Kosta did not look much better. Maybe it was the night’s growth of beard that made him look exhausted, Annis thought. But that did not account for the bleakness in his eyes.

  ‘Goodbye,’ he said formally. ‘It’s been an education.’

  She could not bear him to leave her trembling on the sofa like a fool. She got to her feet without knowing quite how she managed it. She plastered on the smile she had learned after her mother had run away, the one she’d used when she’d said to kind mothers of her school friends that, yes, she had had a wonderful time, and thank you for inviting her to the party, but she just felt a bit sick and wanted to go home now.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Annis brightly and, as it turned out, lethally.

  He spun round, his anger leaping out at her. Annis quailed at the blaze in his eyes. He threw his jacket aside and strode across to her.

  It was less a kiss than a brand on her mouth. His unshaven skin grazed her. But worse, far worse, was the pain when he let her go and she saw the contempt in his eyes.

  She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. She did not know who she hated more—Kosta or herself.

  As if he could read her mind, he said mockingly, ‘And I thought I was your love?’

  For a moment Annis did not understand him. Then she realised. She had thought he was asleep. But he had not been. He had been secretly awake—and listening! It felt like the ultimate betrayal. For a moment she was so shocked by the pain she literally stopped breathing.

  Then her heart slammed back into action. Oh, of course he had not been asleep. He had been pretending. As her father had said, as she had seen herself, Kosta liked to win. Had to win.

  She said between frozen lips, ‘Is there anything you won’t do to score a point?’

  He was smiling, though the smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes.

  ‘That wasn’t a point,’ he drawled, his accent pronounced. ‘That was total victory.’

  Annis would not have believed it possible to hurt so much and still be on her feet. She tortured her mouth into a smile, trying to look as if she did not care. But she not think it deceived Kosta for a moment.

  ‘That was quite a journey you took me on last night,’ he mused. ‘I hope it got you what you wanted.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ said Annis, made literal by shock. She blinked tears away and kept smiling, as she had learned to do over the years at Lynda’s parties. It felt grotesque.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said softly, as if he were considering an academic question. ‘I got what I wanted, after all. It’s only fair that you should do the same.’

  This was a nightmare.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Annis politely.

  ‘But once is enough. I don’t think either of us has behaved too well. So forgive me if I don’t want to repeat the experience.’

  Even years of practice could not keep the horrible smile in place. Annis was appalled and it showed. Her hand went to her mouth, in horror. Stricken tears sprang unstoppably.

  Only Kosta did not see them. The front door was already banging behind him.

  It was a bad few hours but eventually Annis pulled herself together. Not entirely together, of course, that would have been too much to ask. But sufficiently together to strip and remake the bed, wash everything in her room that wasn’t nailed down and spring clean the flat, including a full shampoo of the unstained rugs.

  Eventually she sat down at her computer and went determinedly through her schedule of work in progress. By that time she only had to stop to blow her nose or blot the damp bits under her eyes every ten minutes or so. Her ribs hurt from suppressing heaving sobs. But at least she could see the screen without blinking tears away.

  The telephone rang. Annis tensed.

  It’s him. It has to be him. I don’t want to talk to him.

  I have to talk to him. I don’t know what to say.

  She picked up the phone and said her number breathlessly.

  ‘Annis? Is that you? Have you got a cold or something?’

  ‘Bella.’ The anticlimax was almost painful.

  ‘How are you today? Got over seeing Jamie?’

  Jamie? Annis gave a hollow laugh.

  ‘Yes, I think I’m over that one, thank you.’

  ‘I just wish I knew how to do that. You are so in control of your life.’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ muttered Annis.

  ‘I just keep making a complete prat of myself,’ Bella steamed on, not hearing. ‘I can’t seem to stop putting my foot in it.’

  Annis sighed. But she loved Bella and she knew a cry for help when she heard one. Besides, looking at her work schedule on the screen, she was beginning to get panicky about the number of days she still had to go to the offices of Vitale and Partners. It might prove therapeutic to stop picking over her own disaster and start looking at someone else’s. Anyway, it would be a distraction.

  ‘Do you want to come over for supper?’ she asked.

  Bella, when she a
rrived, was more subdued than Annis had ever known her. She wandered round the kitchen while Annis simmered pasta and shredded ham.

  ‘Mother says don’t give up hope. But I don’t see how I can do anything else.’

  Bella leaned on the counter and sliced transparent slivers of Parmesan off the big block that Annis had brought back from her last holiday in Tuscany. She nibbled a flake of it thoughtfully.

  ‘I mean, I’ve tried everything. Outrageous party girl. Kid next door. Sober citizen.’

  ‘Sober citizen?’ In spite of her miseries, Annis choked with laughter at the picture this conjured up.

  Bella twinkled. ‘Well, computer-clone chic, I suppose you’d call it. Sensible shoes and a cardigan.’

  ‘I’d call it playing dress up,’ said Annis astringently. She drained the pasta and turned her attention to the carbonara sauce. ‘Could it possibly be that this man had seen you in your—er—more unzipped moments and suspected he was being set up?’

  ‘No,’ said Bella despondently. ‘He didn’t notice me in my more unzipped moments.’

  ‘Every man notices you in your more unzipped moments,’ Annis assured her.

  Bella was without false modesty. ‘I know. He doesn’t. He spent more time talking to Tony.’

  ‘Dad?’ Annis looked up from the sauce, briefly alarmed. ‘Bella, you haven’t fallen for some widget fancier at Dad’s company, have you? Most of those guys are married, for heaven’s sake. It would be terribly unfair both to him and to Dad if you—’

  ‘He’s not a widget fancier,’ said Bella hastily. ‘He doesn’t work for Dad. Well, not really. And he’s certainly not married.’

  Annis took the sauce off the gas.

  ‘Well, that’s all right, then.’

  ‘Only because he’s too fast on his feet,’ said Bella gloomily.

  Annis was pouring the sauce over the pasta but she paused for a startled millisecond. A crazy idea occurred to her.

  ‘Who are we talking about, Isabella?’ she asked quietly.