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

by Sophie Weston

  But Bella was carrying the salad to the table and pretended not to hear. She continued to turn a deaf ear to every demand for the unknown sex object’s name throughout the meal. She did, however, explain very fully his attraction, his powers of evasion and his exceptional indifference to herself.

  ‘I mean—if every man in the room is looking at me and he is looking at his watch, what’s the point?’

  Annis knew by now that Bella was not going to tell her his name. Of course it was absolutely out of the question that Bella would have fallen for Kosta. She and Bella were never attracted to the same man. Besides, if Kosta, the connoisseur, had seen a dish like Bella on offer, he would never have spared a glance on Annis.

  Even so—‘How old is he?’ she asked cunningly.

  ‘Another adult like me.’

  ‘Do I know him?’

  Bella gave her an odd, defiant look. She seemed almost ashamed. ‘You’ve had the treatment, same as I did. Only you’re too sensible to let it get to you.’

  No, of course it couldn’t be Kosta, thought Annis. Bella would not be so defiant if it were Kosta. Every woman in his office, every woman at Lynda’s dinner party and probably every woman in the world seemed to agree that he was the sexiest thing on two legs. Bella, a connoisseur herself in this area, would not be ashamed of telling if she had developed a crush on Konstantin Vitale.

  Unseen, Annis heaved a sigh of relief. She did not think she could bear it if she and Bella were falling apart over the same heart breaker. Tragedy was one thing, she told herself, farce would be much harder to endure with any dignity. It just showed how shaken up she was that she had even let it cross her mind. It was clearly ridiculous.

  Meantime she had to get through work on Monday with a furious Kosta in residence.

  But she had reckoned without his lightning changes of plan.

  Kosta was flying out to Milan, Tracy told her sunnily. Nobody had seen him, though he had left copious instructions for everyone. He had simply come to the office, swept up his papers and gone before even Annis could be expected to arrive on the premises.

  ‘Haven’t had a row with him, have you?’ asked Tracy, laughing heartily at her own joke.

  Annis smiled weakly. Then rallied. ‘He shouldn’t have left you anything except his emergency number if the delegation programme is working,’ she said firmly. ‘Bring me his list of instructions. Then call a meeting of everyone for eleven. We’ve got to get this sorted out once and for all.’

  As she’d suspected, the list was random and full of minutiae that he should not have been bothered with. And he still had not remembered about the leaking roof.

  ‘Right,’ said Annis grimly to the assembled staff. ‘I’m going to go round each of you and I want you to tell me what you think are your five most important things to do this morning. This is not a test. This is just to see what we agree on before we decide what to do.’

  They looked at each other. ‘But Kosta—’

  Annis snapped. ‘Forget Kosta. Just like he’s forgotten you. This is about making this place work. He can swan around in Milan until he’s blue in the face. When he comes back, you’re going to be on top of the work flow or I, personally, will put the lot of you through the shredder.’

  But Kosta was not swanning around in Milan. He breezed into the Milan office of Vitale and Partners for an interval only marginally longer than he had spent in the London premises that morning. Then he picked up a rental car that looked as if it would be happier on the racetrack than the autostrada and set its nose to the south. He was driving very fast.

  He had lost his cool with Annis. He could not remember the last time that had happened. He considered the point savagely. Eventually he came to the conclusion, somewhere north of Genoa, that it had never happened before. Not like that. Not so completely that he had almost been betrayed into laying hands on a woman and shaking some sense into her. He still recoiled at the thought. That made him even more furious with Annis.

  The worst of it was that, for the first time in his life, he did not know what to do next. He, Konstantin Vitale, architectural visionary, international sophisticate and all round brilliant brain, had not the slightest idea what to do about a woman. Not even one of the glamorous social princesses that he normally hung out with, either. Just an ordinary woman with a career and a family and bad taste in boyfriends.

  Only she wasn’t ordinary. He had known it from the moment he’d looked up and seen her across her stepmother’s drawing room. Known it when she’d announced that she did not date and had looked at him as if she’d expected that to deter him.

  A smile—the first in hours, it seemed—invaded his eyes.

  She might know everything there was to know about business management, his Annis, but she sure had not got a handle on human nature yet.

  His Annis. That was the crux of it. Why didn’t she realise it?

  But he knew the answer to that too. It was that damned lack of self-respect again. Now that he was calmer, he could just imagine what she thought had happened at the dance. His smile died.

  Annis would think that she had been too upset about that creep to know what she was doing. So she’d had too much to drink. And then, as she would see it, wicked, predatory Kosta had waltzed her into bed before she’d had time to think.

  He shifted sharply in the low sports-car seat. Well, there was a grain of truth there.

  She had driven him half mad that evening, dressed like a temptress and flirting with every man in sight. He had known she was too unpractised to know the effect that her sweet, dangerous challenge was having on him. But by the end he just hadn’t cared. He had wanted her from the first moment he’d seen her, though she’d refused to recognise it. That night it had seemed that a path had opened up to take him straight to the heart of his desire.

  But to Annis it would look simpler. And a whole lot nastier. She would perceive a serial womaniser who’d seen his chance and had taken it.

  Kosta banged his fist on the dashboard so hard that the CD player jumped track, which was supposed to be impossible.

  And that was why she had suddenly turned into the millionaire’s daughter in the morning, all high drawling voice and pretend indifference. Because it had been pretend. He knew that now. He would have known it then, if she hadn’t managed to get him on the raw.

  And, being hurt, he had struck back. Harder than Annis knew how. He could still see the stricken look on her face. Though she had fought back, his Annis. She would always fight back.

  Hell, he’d been watching her like a private detective for days. He knew how hard she fought the moment anyone seemed to threaten her self-control. He probably knew more about her responses than she did herself.

  I know she kisses like an angel, thought Kosta involuntarily. And when she’s half-awake she burrows against you as if you’re her rock. I know she seems surprised by her own sensuality. She thinks she’s so cool and logical but her responses give her away.

  The car shot forward, increasing to a speed that the manufacturers would probably have said was impossible. Kosta eased his foot off the accelerator, muttering a curse. He eased his collar.

  What had happened to him? He was an accomplished driver. He never took his emotions out on his car. Never.

  Kosta clenched the sports-car steering wheel so hard he almost snapped it. Emotions? For an uptight, nasty-tongued, spoilt daughter of a rich industrialist? She was everything he despised, everything that his mother had struggled against to get him an education. Everything he had mocked and avoided all his life. He could not care for her. Even if she did kiss like an angel.

  But then he remembered the way she’d flinched when he’d said that passion scared her. And—worse—the look on her face when he’d flung at her, ‘And I thought I was your love?’

  Oh he had struck a nerve there, all right. He had been too angry to realise it at the time. But that was when he had really struck home. And he wished from his heart that he could undo it. He could not bear to think of
his Annis hurt as he had hurt her.

  Kosta unclenched his hands from the wheel and drew a long breath. Quite suddenly it was all perfectly clear. She was his Annis. He just had to get her to believe it.

  He looked across the wide plain. The church tower of a little hilltop village was outlined against the grey sky. He smiled.

  ‘Well, there’s one way to do that,’ he said aloud. ‘And it had better be soon.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘TWO messages for you,’ said Tracy.

  She pushed a scrubby piece of paper under Annis’s nose. Annis looked up from Kosta’s desk and sighed. She had been meaning to get round to doing something about formalising the message taking. But in the ten days since Kosta had taken off she had been too busy. She made a note on her memory pad.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Tracy did not go. Annis looked up again.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Do you want me to book the flights?’

  ‘What?’ Annis looked at the messages. Her heart seemed to stop. Then it started to thump like a steam hammer. ‘Oh, I see.’

  One was from Roy, reporting back from a meeting with Gil de la Court. The other was from Vitale’s Milan office. That was what had started the hammer going. She was required to go to San Giorgio at once. Annis looked quickly at Tracy but the girl did not seem to be unduly interested. She was just waiting to see if she needed to get on to the travel agent.

  Annis cleared her throat and hoped that her heart did not sound as loud to Tracy as it did to her. ‘Where is San Giorgio?’

  ‘It’s a castle in the south of Italy somewhere. Kosta goes there to work when he doesn’t want to be interrupted.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Annis hollowly.

  But Tracy was still mercifully uninterested.

  ‘’Course, he’s not there at the moment. He’s in Milan. I suppose he wants you to review his systems there.’

  There was a small pause.

  ‘Yes,’ said Annis at last in a flat tone. ‘Yes, that will be it, of course.’

  ‘So do you want me to get the flights?’ asked Tracy patiently. ‘It takes a bit of doing. Kosta always takes a helicopter from Naples.’

  Annis was shocked. ‘I can’t do that. The expense!’

  Tracy shrugged. ‘It’s a sort of taxi service, I think. We run an account, anyway. I’ll just charge it to the partnership.’

  Annis debated. ‘Well, check it with Milan,’ she decided. ‘If it’s really necessary, I suppose it’s up to Vitale’s to get me there.’

  ‘Okey-doke,’ said Tracy casually. ‘And what about the other message?’

  ‘I’ll deal with that.’

  She picked up the phone and Tracy left.

  It was just as well for Annis’s peace of mind that she did not see Tracy break into a little dance once she had closed the door behind her.

  The other message was more encouraging. Gil de la Court, having wavered for months, now wanted them to start work as soon as possible.

  ‘I told him we’d do our best but no promises. Can you finish up there by the end of the week?’ said Roy.

  ‘No. Maybe next week,’ offered Annis. ‘You start and I’ll join you as soon as I can get away.’

  He had to be content with that.

  She got to Naples without incident. There, the helicopter looked solid enough. Annis tucked her briefcase-cum-overnight bag behind her legs and tried to look as if she flew in helicopters to unknown destinations every day of the week. But she nearly lost her cool when she saw San Giorgio.

  Tracy had called it a castle. It looked like a hilltop fortress. From the circling helicopter it looked about as isolated and forbidding as you could get. Far below it, waves crashed onto a deserted crescent of beach. Black uneven steps could be seen, cut into the rock face that led down to the shore with its rudimentary landing stage. There was no road that she could see and not so much as a shepherd’s hut in the wild, rock-strewn hills below her. Annis thought she had never seen a place so desolate in her life.

  The helicopter set down gently on an apron that seemed to jut perilously over the edge of the cliff. The pilot gave her a beaming smile. Presumably relieved that he hadn’t actually flown the thing into the rock face, thought Annis. She gave him a congratulatory nod and fished for her belongings.

  When she sat up straight, the door had been swung open and she came nose to nose with Kosta.

  ‘Oh, help,’ said Annis in pure reflex.

  The noise of the helicopter drowned her voice but he must have read her lips. He grinned. His hair was blowing all over the place and rain—or was it spray from the wild sea below?—had plastered his denim shirt to his body. Annis felt her hands go clammy.

  He grabbed her bag and her hand and towed her towards the castle. The pilot did not even turn off the ailerons. He just checked the door closure, raised a hand and was off.

  Kosta opened a weathered oak door and tugged Annis inside. In the distance the fusillade of helicopter engine died away. Annis became aware of total silence. A nasty suspicion occurred to her.

  ‘Is there anyone else here?’

  ‘Only the ghosts.’

  Annis had recovered her poise. She looked at him with dislike. ‘You’re not funny.’

  He was leading the way up a spiral staircase. It wound round a stone pillar that looked as old as the world. Their feet clattered eerily on the worn stone steps.

  Kosta looked back over his shoulder and his eyes glinted. They were as green as a cat’s. No mistaking it, thought Annis indignantly, he was enjoying himself.

  ‘Not trying to be funny. We’ve got plenty of ghosts. Greeks. Romans. Normans who built the castle. Arab raiders who sacked it. And then the brigands moved in.’

  Annis could not help herself. She shuddered and looked round quickly. It was pure instinct and she could have kicked herself the moment she did it. Especially when he laughed softly.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep you safe from brigands.’

  It was that dark treacle caressing voice, the one that he used to charm the birds out of the trees, the one that had first turned her against him. Oh, how right she had been to distrust him on sight! Annis stopped dead and tipped her head back to look up at him defiantly.

  ‘I can keep myself safe, thank you. What are you up to, Kosta? What am I doing here?’

  ‘You know what you’re doing here. Helping me sort out my life.’

  Annis narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Just that you were right. I need you.’

  The staircase was full of shadows. She could not tell whether he was laughing or deadly serious. She did not know which frightened her more.

  It was crazy, of course. She was a modern woman. She was independent and self-possessed and she had proved her competence. She was not frightened of anyone. At least not as long as they followed ordinary rules of reasonable behaviour.

  So of course she was not afraid of Kosta. Kosta was a civilised man. Well, most of the time.

  Annis suddenly remembered a couple of occasions when his claim to civilisation had been a bit rocky. Her heart contracted treacherously. But not with fear.

  She said abruptly, ‘Are we here alone?’

  He smiled down at her. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘that you would do almost anything to get your own way.’

  The green eyes flickered oddly. ‘Does that scare you?’

  ‘No,’ said Annis. She found it was true. She shook back her hair and smiled up at him with sudden brilliance. ‘No, I’m not scared.’

  He did not say anything. But he gave a long, long sigh, as if he had been climbing an ice wall and had unexpectedly reached the top.

  He took her into a huge kitchen, with smoke-blackened beams and a fireplace several tall men could have stood up in. Comprehensive twenty-first century kitchen equipment took up a tiny corner of it. A brigade could have eaten at the refectory table.

  Their footsteps
echoed on the medieval flags. If Annis had wanted confirmation that there was no one else but the two of them in the castle, that deserted and echoing kitchen would have done it.

  ‘Why?’ she said.

  He did not pretend to misunderstand her. ‘I gave the staff a long weekend. I thought you and I could do with some time together—and the space in which to spend it.’

  Annis looked round the vast room. ‘Well, we’ve certainly got that.’

  Then she heard what she had said. We. As if they were a couple; partners; acknowledged lovers. She had never said we before. Not aloud. Not even in her head, maybe. She felt as if she had taken some huge step over a chasm, without even realising it was there.

  ‘Don’t look so worried,’ Kosta said softly.

  Reading her mind again! Annis’s eyes flew to his in shock.

  He smiled. ‘It will be all right. I promise.’

  Annis drew a little breath that was half a sob. All right, she was not afraid of Kosta. But herself? Total honesty, she decided bravely, was the only way.

  ‘I’m out of my depth here,’ she said bluntly. ‘Don’t forget I’m no good at flirting.’

  ‘I’m counting on it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Kosta’s lips twitched. If she had looked at him, Annis would have seen his face was full of amused tenderness. But she did not. She was too busy trying to keep her balance.

  After a moment he said briskly, ‘I won’t take you on the guided tour yet. But the kitchen is the root of the castle. If you get lost, come back here. Not least because there is a map on the wall. Come here.’

  She went and stood beside him. The floor plans looked like the architectural drawings she had been used to seeing round Vitale’s office.

  ‘You’ve rebuilt the place,’ she said in sudden understanding.

  ‘It’s not finished yet. Look, you can see. The stuff that’s outlined in blue is completed. The rest will get done over time.’

  The floor plans looked astonishingly complicated, with little half-landings and odd rooms that did not seem to fit in anywhere. She said so.

  ‘That’s because the castle is built into the rock. Some of the rooms are not much more than hollowed-out caves. It was amazing what they managed to do with primitive tools.’