Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2016 Books 1-4 - Линн Грэхем, Maisey Yates - Страница 14
ОглавлениеELLA 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 out 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.
Cyrus had said that Nikolai was a complete bastard with women, and notorious. And wasn’t his treatment of Ella the living proof of that? Was that immoral choice he had given her to be his get-out clause? Her body in return for her family’s security and happiness? But she had agreed and, what was more, had sworn she would not make a big drama over it. So where did that leave her? Up the creek without a paddle, she reckoned wretchedly.
‘You’re furious with me,’ she breathed to break the intolerable silence in the limousine returning them to the apartment.
‘We’ll discuss it when we get back to the house,’ Nikolai breathed darkly, lounging back in his corner of the limo and splaying his lean, powerful thighs as he surveyed her.
She had defied him in spite of his instructions. Mutiny was etched in the set of her delicate jawline, obstinacy in the jut of her determined little chin. And damn her but it made him want her more than ever! How was that possible when she was crossing him at every turn? It was irrational and he was not an irrational man. He could, of course, have told her the truth about Cyrus, but she probably wouldn’t believe him because he suspected she had seen a side of Cyrus granted to few. He could not risk telling Ella anything because how could he possibly know that he could trust her?
But his inability to trust wasn’t uppermost in his mind at that moment. Acting on impulse, he slid along the passenger seat and gathered her stiff little body into his arms.
‘What the—?’ Ella gasped, jerking in stark disconcertion.
‘He shouldn’t have touched you,’ Nikolai growled against her parted lips. ‘You’re not his to touch.’
And he crushed her soft, full mouth under his with all the hunger powering him. She went limp and kissed him back, a little whimper escaping her as his tongue flicked against hers. He felt her arms come up round his neck and he almost smiled. Talking was a vastly overrated exercise. Sometimes action talked louder and she was his, indisputably his when he touched her, her lithe little body curling into him, one hand stroking his shoulder, the other delving into his hair.
Nikolai thought of lifting the skirt of her gown, swivelling her round, ripping off her panties and sating the overwhelming need that was making him ache. Black lashes lifting, he wrenched his mouth free of the clinging passion of hers and released a long shuddering sigh.
‘I’m burning up for you. I spent the day planning what I want to do with you in bed.’
‘I spent the day bored out of my mind at that beauty salon,’ Ella confided helplessly. ‘What did you plan to do?’
Nikolai whispered and her bones melted like honey, desire clenching her feminine core and tightening her nipples into straining buds.
‘Not to be recommended even in a limo,’ Nikolai concluded as he settled her circumspectly back in her corner of the seat. ‘But a guy can dream...’
Ella smoothed down her skirt and fought to catch her breath. His words had undone her. She was with a male who could be bold and unconventional when he felt the urge. The price? Now she was all overheated and quivery and wanton and shocked at herself. Only minutes earlier she had been resentful and confused and unbearably tense but he had contrived to release that tension in the most unexpected way.
Nikolai followed her into the truly hideous drawing room with its swagged and canopied drapes and looming dark furniture. It put him in mind of a funeral parlour and he wished he had had the time to throw in an interior decorator to modernise the place. ‘So, tell me,’ he urged ruefully. ‘What were you playing at tonight with Cyrus?’
‘I spoke to Cyrus because he’s a friend.’
Nikolai reacted as fast as a whip. He grabbed her hand and turned up her slender wrist where the skin was now showing purpling black fingerprints. ‘A friend did this?’ he growled in disbelief.
‘It was an accident. He was angry because I hadn’t told him that I was leaving home. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me!’ Ella protested, snatching her hand back protectively. ‘What’s it to you anyway?’
‘I’m the one responsible for your safety and, let me tell you now, you are not safe with Cyrus. Don’t ever be alone with him anywhere,’ Nikolai bit out forcefully.
‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say,’ Ella framed in bewilderment. ‘He warned me off you too.’
Nikolai threw back his head. ‘Did he indeed?’
‘He said you were a complete bastard with women, notorious,’ she recited curtly.
‘If being honest about my lack of honourable or long-term intentions is being a bastard, then I’m guilty as charged. Do you want a drink?’
‘White wine,’ she muttered. ‘Th—thanks.’ Her voice tripped on the word as he pressed a wine glass into her hand.
Nikolai tipped back his brandy in an unappreciative gulp. ‘I need you to do as I ask, Ella, not as you want.’
‘I need you to be human...seems we’re both destined to disappointment,’ she whispered round the rim of her glass.
‘I don’t handle disappointment well. For your own sake, stay away from Cyrus,’ he breathed in a driven undertone.
Ella studied him and wondered how he could expect her to trust him over Cyrus when Cyrus had already earned her trust. Incomprehension assailed her because Nikolai was by no means slow on the uptake. The two men disliked each other; she had got that message loud and clear from both of them. The difference between them was in her reaction. Cyrus’s behaviour had confused and troubled her but, inexplicably, Nikolai’s reaction tore her up inside. And she didn’t know why. She had no more idea why when she looked at his lean, darkly handsome features and sensed vulnerability, because from the outside Nikolai didn’t have a vulnerable bone in his big, powerful body.
Max knocked at the door and offered supper. Both of them declined and the pitter-patter of running paws on the tiled hall floor announced the entry of the dogs. Rory hurled herself joyfully against Nikolai’s legs while Butch bounced around Ella, stayed just long enough to get a pat and then went to join Rory.
‘I was surprised you had a pet,’ Ella admitted abstractedly.
Nikolai glanced at her and straightened from greeting the shaggy little mongrel at his feet. ‘I can’t take the applause for that. Rory belonged to my sister. She called her Princess Aurora...my sister had a love of all things fairy tale,’ he murmured stiffly, his lean, strong face shadowing. ‘After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to part with her dog, so I kept her.’
‘I didn’t know you’d lost someone,’ she muttered as the dogs raced out again in pursuit of Max.
‘Most of us have by the time we reach our third decade.’
‘Doesn’t make coping with it any easier,’ Ella remarked.
A phone rang and Nikolai dug a cell out of his pocket and answered it. As soon as he did she saw his face change, paling and clenching hard. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘What is it? What’s happened?’
‘There’s been a fire...at my hotel. I need to get over there.’
‘My goodness...is there anything I can do to help?’ Ella exclaimed.
‘No, just go to bed. I’ll see you later...most probably tomorrow.’
After his sudden departure, Ella walked out to the cosy room off the kitchen where Max was watching television with the dogs at his feet. He stood up. ‘Did you change your mind about supper?’
‘No. I didn’t.’ Ella told him about the fire. ‘I didn’t know Nikolai owned a hotel.’
‘The Grand Illusion. He worked in the bar there when he was a student,’ Max told her. ‘It was also his first big business project. He bought it and turned it into one of the most sought-after boutique hotels in Europe. I hope it’s not too badly damaged. He’s very attached to the place.’
* * *
Ella slid into the big white bed upstairs. The sheets were cool and silky against her skin. She was alone, reflecting wryly that she had not expected to be alone in bed tonight. She was too tired to agonise over the long eventful day but her body quickened and heated when she remembered Nikolai’s mouth on hers in the limo and what he had whispered. There was nothing wrong with wanting him, she told herself drowsily. He was extraordinarily sexy and her response was simply natural and normal. Why did she feel guilty about what couldn’t be helped? After all, no power on earth could bring back Paul or the future life she had once dreamt of sharing with him. Less troubled than she had been earlier, she finally slept.
When she wakened it was almost nine and she was very hungry. She discovered that Max had unpacked her clothes into one of the built-in closets off the passageway that led into the en suite and she picked out jeans and a long-sleeved tee before she went for a shower. Nikolai had not returned during the night. Either he had slept elsewhere or he was still dealing with the aftermath of the fire. While she applied a little make-up, her nose wrinkling at that newly acquired vanity, she was still thinking about that passionate kiss in the limousine and questioning how one kiss could possibly be that special.
As she emerged from the bathroom the bedroom door opened and Nikolai appeared. He looked exhausted and he brought with him the acrid smell of smoke. He stared at her with red-rimmed eyes and for a split second it was as though he didn’t know who she was or what she was doing there.
‘How was it?’ she asked uncertainly.
Momentarily he closed his eyes and a faint shudder racked his lean, strong frame. ‘Horrible...’ he finally rasped, kicking back his shoulders to shrug off his jacket. ‘I stink of smoke. I need a shower.’
‘Was anyone hurt?’ she pressed.
Halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, he looked at her, dark deep-set eyes semi-closed with no lightening flare of gold. ‘Yes. I was at the hospital before I came back. Three of my staff are injured. One has...’ his voice roughened ‘...life-changing injuries.’
‘I’m sorry, Nikolai. You knew him personally?’ she prompted sickly.
As the shirt fell to the floor he nodded in silence. ‘I worked with the kitchen and bar staff as a student. The fire started behind the hotel. There was an explosion. Two assistant chefs were hurt. The bar manager has severe burns and he’s facing years of surgery,’ he completed gruffly.
‘I’m so very sorry,’ she said again, because she could see by the fierce tightness of his facial muscles that it had all been almost more than he could bear. He was literally fighting to stay in control and, shamefully, the tears glimmering in his dark eyes fascinated her.
‘It could’ve been worse,’ he said as if he was reminding himself of that reality in an effort to stave off too much negativity. ‘The guests all got out in time. The hotel’s wrecked but bricks and mortar can be rebuilt. It’s lives that can’t.’
He toed off his shoes, yanked off his socks and peeled off his trousers in his determined path to the shower. She could see that he wasn’t even conscious that he was stripping naked in front of her. The lithe bronzed perfection of his lean, powerful body was revealed and she strove to respect his lack of awareness by not staring. He was drained and devastated and in a state she had never expected to see him in.
‘Can I get you anything?’
‘Max met me on the way in. He’s bringing up breakfast...not sure I’ll be able to eat,’ he mumbled thickly.
Ella became braver. She moved into the bathroom doorway. ‘It’s not your fault this happened, Nikolai.’
‘It’s someone’s fault!’ he ground out rawly. ‘The police suspect arson. An accelerant was used. Plastic bins shoved up against the oil tanks caused the explosion. It was no accident.’
‘Oh, my word,’ she whispered, moving back to the bedroom.
Max brought a covered tray and told her that he had included her in the food order. Butch pranced round her feet with Rory, both of them wanting to stay, but she asked Max to take the dogs back downstairs.
‘He’s shattered. He needs to rest,’ Max agreed. ‘Sleep makes everything look less dire.’
Nikolai reappeared, a towel wrapped round his narrow waist, damp black hair flopping untidily over his brow. Ella poured coffee and thrust a knife and fork at him as he sank down in one of the chairs by the table at the window.
‘Eat,’ she urged. ‘You need fuel for energy.’
His wide, sensual mouth quirked as he met anxious green eyes. She was all warmth and softness but her sympathy unnerved him. He had learned to get by without leaning on anyone and it had protected him over and over again from making dangerous mistakes. If he didn’t give his trust, it couldn’t be broken. If he didn’t open up to other people, he couldn’t get hurt. Well, OK, he was hurting now, but that couldn’t be helped because that was the kind of damage that life threw at everybody. Only this time, someone had personally choreographed that damage, he reminded himself grimly. Who hated him enough to target a packed hotel with an arson attack? Nikolai knew how fortunate it was that so many people had escaped the fire unscathed.
He drank the coffee and ate some bacon but admitted that he had no appetite. Ella wanted to ask him more about the fire but reckoned that a tactful silence was more welcome.
‘I’ll go to bed. I have to go back to the police station later,’ Nikolai told her wearily, walking back to the bathroom.
She heard drawers open and close and when he reappeared he had disposed of the towel and donned a pair of tight-fitting white cotton boxers. For an instant she stared because he was so beautifully built, from his well-defined pectorals to the inverted V of muscle above his hips. She was surprised to see an elaborate tattoo adorning one masculine shoulder. It depicted a winged goddess...and a tiny unicorn? What was that all about? Her mouth drying, she swallowed hard and snatched up the book she had abandoned beside the bed the night before.
‘I’ll see you later,’ she said breathlessly as she scooped up the big tray to take it downstairs in the lift.
Fatigue overwhelmed Nikolai. There were things he had wanted to say to Ella but he couldn’t remember what they were. Instead he found himself recalling the tenderness, the caring in her shimmering green eyes while she tried to nag him into eating. It had reminded him of the way his sister had looked at him when he was sick as a little boy. With a savage curse he blocked out the disturbing image of both.
* * *
Ella settled at the kitchen table while Max baked a cake and talked about his army days. The dogs trotted in and out of the back garden. When the doorbell buzzed, she followed him out to the hall and then hovered, unsure why she had done so. When she saw Cyrus smiling on the doorstep she stiffened in dismay, but then he saw her and smiled warmly at her and she discovered that she couldn’t hold spite against the man over bruises that were already fading from her wrist.
‘Cyrus...’ she said, moving forward.
‘I hoped that I’d find you home today,’ Cyrus remarked, extending a huge bouquet of flowers, which Ella passed uneasily to Max.
The whole situation felt wrong to her and she was very uncomfortable. Cyrus and Nikolai thoroughly disliked each other and she knew without even being told that Nikolai would be furious that Cyrus had entered his home. Yet Cyrus’s calm manner and friendly smile were far more familiar to her than the angry man he had been the night before.
‘Come in,’ she said, struggling to feel more welcoming.
‘I’ll make you some tea before I leave to do the shopping,’ Max promised.
‘I knew you wouldn’t be expecting me.’ Cyrus followed her into the dark drawing room where he glanced around and rolled his eyes without comment. ‘But I couldn’t leave things the way they were when we parted last night.’
‘It was awkward,’ she conceded.
Cyrus took a seat and asked her about her family. She was very careful about what she said, fearful that he would ask difficult questions about her father’s failed business because she had promised Nikolai that she would not discuss the matter. In actuality Cyrus made no reference to the debts or of the fact that the shop had closed and she realised that it was perfectly possible that he had no idea of the financial mess her family had been in.
‘I have a question to ask you and it may surprise you,’ Cyrus warned her as Max brought in a tray.
Taken aback, Ella studied him uncertainly. ‘Is it likely to upset me?’
‘I hope not.’ Cyrus smiled again while she poured the tea. ‘I’ve known you over four years, Ella. Recently, however, it’s become a challenge for me to be the friend you want and if I’ve seen less of you that is why.’
Ella was becoming increasingly tense but she said nothing.
‘You’re worth much more than some tawdry affair with Drakos. I want to take you away from here today,’ he told her emphatically. ‘I want you to marry me. I’m asking you to be my wife.’
Her tummy gave a queasy lurch at the mere concept of that but she was careful to keep her face composed because, no matter how outlandish and inappropriate she found his proposal, she was still reluctant to hurt him. ‘I’m afraid I’ve never seen you in that light, Cyrus. I think of you as Paul’s uncle and a good friend.’
‘Clearly I’ve played the waiting game too long and too well,’ Cyrus said drily. ‘I didn’t want to make our relationship uncomfortable.’
Ella had never felt more uncomfortable with Cyrus than she did at that moment. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. If he had feelings for her, she could not return them and there was no way to wrap that wounding fact up as a compliment. ‘I do like and respect you.’
‘I should’ve spoken up sooner. You being here with Drakos suggests that I waited too long to tell you how I feel.’ Cyrus could not hide his loathing for Nikolai or his contempt as he voiced his name. ‘But I couldn’t help being aware that you had an abnormal relationship with my nephew and I didn’t want to put pressure on you.’
Ella had fallen very still. ‘Abnormal? In what way?’
‘Well, it certainly wasn’t normal for the two of you to be in a celibate engagement,’ Cyrus declared with a caustic derision that sent mortified colour flying into her cheeks. ‘You should know that by the time of his death Paul had no secrets from me.’
Severely discomfited, Ella turned from red to bone white and curved her hands tightly round her cup as if savouring that warmth.
‘But that wasn’t your fault...it was his. I was tempted to tell you what I knew after the funeral but I didn’t see that telling you that late in the day would be doing you any favours.’
Frowning, Ella leant forward in a sudden movement and put her cup back on the tray with a sharp little snap. ‘Telling me what, for goodness’ sake?’
‘Paul was involved in a homosexual relationship before he met you.’
Ella stared at him in complete disbelief. ‘That’s a total lie!’ she gasped.
‘I don’t know if he was gay, bisexual or simply confused, but Paul was definitely not attracted to women in the usual way,’ Cyrus continued in the same hectoring tone of superiority. ‘And once Paul realised he was ill, he clung to you for comfort and support and you gave it unstintingly. That’s why he asked you to marry him. He was terrified of losing you and being alone.’
‘It’s not true,’ Ella insisted in shock. ‘It can’t be true.’
‘I’m afraid it is true,’ Cyrus told her, curtly impatient. ‘And that background made it very difficult for me to know how best to proceed.’
Ella stood up in the hope of hastening his departure. ‘There was nothing to proceed with,’ she muttered in fierce rebuttal. ‘Even if it is, I’m not attracted to you as a man.’
Cyrus rose as well and moved closer. ‘How would you even know, Ella? You’ve never been with a real man.’
Rage finally filtered through Ella’s shock and freed her to speak her mind. ‘Paul was more of a real man than you’ll ever be! A good relationship isn’t necessarily dependent on sex.’
‘Let me show you what you’re rejecting out of misplaced loyalty!’ Cyrus grated, reaching for her. ‘Did you even listen to me? I did you the honour of asking you to marry me!’
‘Don’t touch me!’ Ella stepped sideways, only to be entrapped by the hand that closed roughly into her hair and yanked. Tears sprang to her eyes because it hurt. ‘Let go of me!’
Cyrus had gone all red and his face was a mask of offended fury. ‘I have every right to touch you!’ he hurled down at her, his other hand biting into her slight shoulder. ‘I spent a fortune helping Paul but it was all for your benefit. Are you aware that Drakos is the son of a drug dealer and a whore? Doesn’t that matter to you?’
With every angry word he was pushing her backwards and her calves hit the base of the sofa and his bullying momentum toppled her down on top of it.
‘I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing,’ he intoned viciously.
