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