Читать книгу Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled with Rubies - Люси Монро, Люси Монро, Robyn Donald - Страница 23

WHAT on earth had her sister ever seen in the man?

Still shocked and shaking from the unexpected violence of her own temper, Angie twisted her hair on top of her head and secured it with a vicious stab of the clip.

If she was honest, she was more than a little horrified by the strength of her own reaction. If she’d been asked to describe her character in two words she would have chosen ‘calm’ and ‘logical’. But where had logic been today when she’d stood in front of Nikos Kyriacou and called him a bastard? And as for calm—

She cringed at the memory. She’d raised her voice and used language that she considered to be extremely distasteful. She’d sounded more like her mother than herself. But maybe her mother was right, in this instance. Nikos Kyriacou had behaved badly. It didn’t matter which way you looked at it, the evidence was there. He’d dated her sister—the gift of the necklace supported her sister’s claim that he’d been in love with her and intending to marry her, so there could be little doubt that she was telling the truth on that score—and then the relationship had ended. And the Greek’s sole purpose in life was now to retrieve the necklace he’d given away so carelessly. Ready for the next woman, no doubt.

Angie gritted her teeth. She was the first to admit that relationships weren’t exactly her forte, but it was obvious to her that Nikos Kyriacou had never intended to marry her sister and his track record supported that assumption. According to her mother, he never dated a woman for longer than three weeks. Clearly her sister had been severely misled.

Angie pushed her files into her bag and then lifted a hand to her chest just to reassure herself that the diamond was still there, safely tucked under her jumper.

Perhaps it had been foolish to wear it, but wearing it had made her feel closer to Tiffany and it wasn’t as if anyone could see it. Under her jumper was probably as safe a place as any until she gave it back to the Kyriacou family.

She should have done it today, of course. She should have reached inside her boring roll-neck jumper, undone the clasp and given him the diamond. And that would have been the end of it, at least for him. But for her—

She just couldn’t bear to part with something that Tiffany had worn.

Which was ridiculous, she thought miserably as she pushed open the door and walked up the stairs that led to the exit, because she could hardly go through life wearing high neck jumpers to conceal a priceless diamond. She was going to have to stop being so sentimental and give it back. It didn’t matter that touching a jewel that Tiffany had worn somehow brought comfort. She was going to have to find her comfort in other ways.

It was time to do the right thing.

Time to return the jewel.

‘Are you all right? I wanted to check on you.’ Helen Knightly hovered in the doorway and Angie looked up from her computer and adjusted her glasses.

Two days had passed and she’d heard nothing from Nikos Kyriacou but, oddly enough, his silence was more disturbing than his presence. She didn’t trust him. ‘I’m fine, thank you. Honestly.’

‘I’m sorry about the other day.’ Her boss was clutching a newspaper. ‘When he arrived in my office demanding to see you, I tried to suggest that he make an appointment but he didn’t take no for an answer.’

Angie gave a wan smile. ‘No. He doesn’t appear to be very good at hearing that word.’

‘I suppose it was nice that he wanted to come and apologise in person.’

Under the cover of her desk, Angie’s toes curled in her shoes. ‘Absolutely.’ She had no intention of revealing that the purpose of Nikos Kyriacou’s visit had had little to do with contrition and everything to do with greed.

‘It must have been hard for him too, losing a girlfriend.’ Helen Knightly sighed and held out the newspaper she was holding. ‘I think you ought to see this before anyone else shows you. It’s a little upsetting, I suppose, but you have to remember that he’s obviously trying to get on with his life just as you are, which has to be a good thing. How’s your mother?’

‘She’s fine,’ Angie said absently, taking the paper with a flicker of disquiet. A little upsetting? What exactly would be in a newspaper that she would find upsetting? ‘What do you mean, “he’s obviously trying to get on with his life”?’

‘Page two story: “Greek tycoon seeks consolation after villa tragedy.”’

Her mouth dry and her heart pounding, Angie opened the paper with shaking hands and found herself faced with a large picture of Nikos Kyriacou emerging from a nightclub in close contact with a tall willowy blonde.

Angie stared down at the paper, a dangerous cocktail of emotions mingling inside her. Shock, pain and anger tangled together and she dropped the paper on to the desk and sucked in a deep breath to try and calm herself.

Was that why he was so desperate to repossess the jewel? So that he could give it to another woman?

Helen made an apologetic sound. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown you—’

‘You were right to show me.’ As if in a trance, Angie stood up, trying to clear her thoughts and control herself. Feeling slightly dazed, she looked at Helen, her expression bewildered. ‘Have you ever thought you knew yourself really well, only to discover that you’re not the person you thought you were?’

Helen’s expression was puzzled. ‘Well, no, I don’t suppose I have, but you’ve suffered a severe shock, my dear, had a terrible loss to cope with. It’s natural that you should be feeling strange and a little unsettled, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘I don’t feel strange or unsettled.’ She felt—furious. Bitterly angry that Nikos Kyriacou could be allowed to brush off the matter of her sister’s death as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Absolutely boiling mad that he would happily date another woman in full view of the press without so much as a flicker of conscience or the slightest concession to decency. Had he given any thought at all to what such a picture would do to her already grieving mother?

The desire to seriously hurt him grew and grew inside her and she curled her fists into her palms and understood for the first time in her life what it was like to want revenge. For the first time she had some understanding of what had driven her mother to urge her to seek justice. She was so blisteringly angry with him, so insulted and hurt by his careless, arrogant behaviour that she wanted to make him suffer.

She sank down on to the chair, still holding the newspaper as she tried to calm herself down. Tried to remember who she was. She was a respected archaeologist. She was an educated woman—a pacifist who believed totally in the use of negotiation as a means of solving disputes. She didn’t believe in ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. She didn’t believe in vengeance.

So why did she suddenly want to find a way of hurting Nikos Kyriacou the way he’d hurt her sister?

‘Go home.’ Helen stepped forward and prised the newspaper from her numb fingers. ‘Really, I think you need a few days off. You can’t expect to get over this in a hurry and I’m sure that seeing Mr Kyriacou has made everything seem very raw.’

‘Yes. Yes, it has.’ Still slightly dazed by the onslaught of emotions that battered her brain, Angie switched off her computer and rose to her feet with a distracted nod of her head. ‘I need some fresh air. I don’t feel like me any more. But I want to keep that newspaper. Can I have it, please?’

Reluctantly Helen handed it to her and urged her towards the door. ‘Go and see the doctor. Take a sedative or something. Don’t come back until you’re ready.’

Hardly aware of what she was doing, Angie pushed the newspaper into her bag and walked up the stone steps. She elbowed her way through crowds of the public admiring the dinosaur exhibition at the front of the museum and pushed through the revolving doors into the street.

Oblivious to the curious glances of passers-by, she walked in a state of blind misery, her thoughts on her sister. Tiffany had been so young and naïve. Being given the necklace must have meant so much to her. Whereas to him it had meant nothing at all

Without even realising what she was doing, Angie lifted a hand to the jewel that was safely hidden under her roll-neck top. Wearing it gave her a comfort that she couldn’t explain, even to herself. Just knowing that she was wearing something that Tiffany had worn made her feel better.

It started to rain, but Angie didn’t notice. How had Tiffany felt when she’d realised that Nikos Kyriacou had no intention of marrying her? How had she felt when she’d discovered that the relationship had meant nothing? Had Nikos Kyriacou been seeing other women when he was with her sister?

Tears started to fall but her face was so wet from the rain that no one even noticed. They were too busy trying to escape from the weather to notice her distress.

She walked home on automatic pilot and slotted her key into the front door with a shaking hand.

The first thing she saw as she walked into the house was a half full glass of whisky on the kitchen table. Scraping her soaking wet hair away from her face, she lifted the offending glass and stared at it in despair. Her mother had been drinking again. She was going to pour it away, along with all the alcohol in the house.

The doorbell rang and Angie glanced towards the sink and then gave an impatient sigh and turned towards the front door instead, the glass still in her hand. It would be the neighbours, checking on her mother and she didn’t want them to worry.

Wondering how her life had deteriorated to this level, she yanked open the front door.

Nikos Kyriacou stood on the doorstep, an expression of simmering impatience on his cold, handsome face. ‘I will come straight to the point. I have tried to tackle this subject with as much tact and sensitivity as I am able but you refuse to meet me even halfway so the time has come to stop playing games.’ His gaze fastened on the glass in her hand and the impatience in his eyes changed to incredulity. ‘Clearly the use of alcohol as a crutch runs in the family.’

Standing in the doorway holding a glass of whisky wasn’t exactly the impression of herself that she would have chosen to give another person, but his judgemental tone and the look of contempt in his eyes squashed any feelings of embarrassment that she might otherwise have suffered. The tension and pressure had been building all day and something inside her suddenly snapped. ‘Tact and sensitivity? When did you ever show tact and sensitivity? Certainly not in my hearing. Given that you are the cause of all our current problems, I advise you to leave now while your limbs are still attached to your body.’

Thick, dark lashes lowered, shielding the expression in his eyes. ‘By all means blame me if it makes you feel better,’ he drawled in a soft tone, ‘but we both know that I can hardly be held responsible for your sister’s drink problem.’

‘No?’ Her misery and grief turned to furious anger. ‘My sister had the misfortune to spend time with you, Mr Kyriacou. That in itself is surely sufficient justification for alcoholic support. Having met you and spent time with you, I can understand all too easily why she would have found herself in need of that support.’ Her tone was acid. ‘I should imagine it was the only way my poor sister could get through the day. If I were in the unfortunate position of being forced into your company on a regular basis, I too would drink to excess, I can assure you.’

His eyes moved slowly over her hair and face and she was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the contrast between her soaking wet, ultra ordinary appearance and the svelte, perfectly groomed woman she’d seen him with in the newspaper.

His smile was faintly contemptuous as if the mere thought of her being in his company was laughable. ‘There is no way you would ever find yourself spending time with me on a regular basis. You are not the sort of woman I would ever willingly seek out.’ The bored derision in his tone was deliberately insulting and she gave a soft gasp of outrage.

‘I think you’d better go.’ She started to close the door, but Nikos Kyriacou planted a foot inside the hallway and shouldered his way through.

‘I’ve already told you, I’m tired of playing games.’ He pushed the door shut with the palm of his hand, his expression grim as he stared at her. ‘Once you have returned my property, I will leave.’

‘Your broke my sister’s heart. You promised to marry her.’

His voice cool and unemotional, Nikos took a step backwards. ‘I never would have married someone like your sister. It is laughable to think I would have considered it.’

Angie gasped, both at the words and his derisive tone. ‘You just don’t care, do you? Her death means nothing to you but a logistical inconvenience. You’d better leave. Now.’

‘Removing myself from the company of your appalling family is my highest priority. Unfortunately I cannot leave until the necklace is restored to my family.’ Clearly he thought he was slumming it by having to deal with them and his blatant distaste goaded her still further. It didn’t matter that she, herself, had been shocked and embarrassed by both her sister and mother’s behaviour in the past. All that mattered now was the fact that he had judged Tiffany good enough to sleep with but not to marry.

‘The necklace no longer belongs to you. A gift is a gift. Maybe you’ll remember that next time you give away something valuable.’

Nikos didn’t flinch. ‘The necklace did not belong to your sister.’

‘Well, she was wearing it when she died,’ Angie reminded him helpfully, ‘so, unless you’re suggesting that she stole it, then it appears to now be in our possession. Perhaps the loss of the necklace will force you to rethink your lifestyle, Mr Kyriacou. You say that you would never have married a girl like my sister, but you were more than happy to seduce her, were you not? You came here, so soon after her death, not to sympathise or offer condolences but to demand the return of a gift. What sort of cold, unfeeling monster does that make you, I wonder?’

His explosion of temper was as sudden as it was shocking as he turned on her with a dangerous flash of his eyes and let out a stream of fluent Greek that contained words that she hadn’t encountered before. But, even if her knowledge of the Greek language hadn’t allowed her to pick up the gist of his diatribe, the threatening expression on his bronzed handsome face was more than sufficient to provide adequate translation.

The volcanic force of his anger made her want to seek refuge under the nearest table and she had to force herself to keep her own expression impassive, determined not to reveal either that he’d frightened her or that she spoke his language.

‘Shouting isn’t going to change the facts. Nor is ranting in a foreign language.’

He took a deep breath and stabbed bronzed fingers through his glossy dark hair. ‘Despite what you may believe, I sincerely regret your sister’s death and a full investigation was conducted by the appropriate authorities, as I’ve already told you.’ His English was heavily accented, as if the sudden switch of language had thrown him. ‘The truth is that, had your sister drunk less, she wouldn’t now be dead.’

Angie’s expression was stony as she fixed her eyes on his. ‘The truth is that had you not given her a reason to drink she wouldn’t now be dead. You need to be more responsible in your relationships, Mr Kyriacou.’

The air hissed through his teeth. ‘I’m extremely responsible in my relationships.’

‘Really?’ Angie picked up her bag and dragged out the newspaper. ‘Who’s she, then? Some convenient bimbo you picked up last night? Or do you need the necklace so that you can give it to her as proof of your undying love and devotion?’

He stared at the picture in the paper and a muscle worked in his lean cheek. ‘She’s no one important.’

‘No one important? Does she know that?’

‘The press photograph me all the time. It’s an obsession.’

‘How very inconvenient for you.’ All he cared about was his image. ‘It must be almost impossible to conduct your affairs in private. I really couldn’t care less who you sleep with, Mr Kyriacou, except to feel the most sincere sympathy for them. My point is merely that this photograph shows you to be decidedly lacking in sensitivity genes. Six months ago my sister was wearing your necklace around her throat and partying in your villa. Now we’re mourning her death and you are out seeking a replacement. The facts are right in front of me, so don’t try and tell me that you care and have feelings.’

‘I don’t plan to tell you anything. I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone.’

‘Well, you should be! Being rich and bossy doesn’t give you the right to walk all over people.’

He looked at her then, his gaze disturbingly intense as it rested on her face. ‘You really do have a most unfortunate personality.’ His voice was silky-smooth and the stillness of his powerful frame was possibly more intimidating than his volcanic burst of temper. ‘Perhaps if you spent less time examining bones and pieces of pottery and more time on personal relationships, your mood might improve. Even if it were possible to overlook your complete lack of interest in your appearance, take it from me, if there’s one thing guaranteed to turn a guy off it’s hysteria. You might want to work on that.’

It was the final straw. The suggestion that she even cared what he thought about her should have made her laugh but instead misery bubbled inside her. He was so superficial. He had no conscience and nothing she said seemed to make him see that he’d behaved abominably.

‘You can’t have your necklace back.’ She blurted the words out in a rush. ‘To you it’s just currency. A way of buying sex, but to me—’

‘Yes, Dr Littlewood?’ His tone was silky-smooth. ‘To you it’s what?’

How could she possibly tell him the truth? That having the necklace round her neck was comforting. It made her feel closer to Tiffany. She realised how completely ridiculous that would sound to a man like him. A man who didn’t have a gentle or compassionate bone in his body. ‘I just—I just want it.’

‘Of course you do. It’s the passport to a lifestyle beyond your wildest dreams.’

All he thought about was money.

Distraught about her sister and deeply offended by his insensitivity, she flung the contents of the glass in his face but even his soft curse and the blatant shock on his handsome features weren’t sufficient to satisfy her. She wanted to hurt him. She really, really wanted to hurt him. If she’d held a gun at that moment she would have shot him through the heart without caring for the consequences.

As it was, she was going to have to settle for something less than a mortal wound.

Revenge.

Wasn’t that what her mother had said? Hadn’t she said that revenge was the only language that a Greek male like Nikos Kyriacou would understand? Well, maybe she was right.

‘You want your jewel?’ She watched him wipe the beads of liquid from his face with his strong fingers, saw the simmering fury build in his dark eyes. Willing to bet that it wasn’t often that anyone won a round with Nikos Kyriacou, she savoured the moment. ‘You can have it. But there’s a condition.’

Without further comment, he reached inside his jacket and removed a cheque book. ‘Name your price. Whatever it is will be worth it to remove your entire family from my life.’

‘Ah, but you see, that isn’t what’s going to happen,’ Angie said, her voice shaking. ‘Money would be too easy for you. You wouldn’t even feel it and I want you to feel it. I really, really want you to feel it. In return for the jewel, you are going to give me the one thing you always refused to give my sister.’

He was ominously still. ‘I don’t understand you.’

‘You’re going to marry me.’ Her heart was pounding against her chest. She still couldn’t quite believe what she’d said. ‘You wouldn’t marry my sister, but you’re going to have to marry me if you want that jewel back, Nikos.’ Her flippant use of his first name was blatantly insulting and there was a long throbbing silence as he studied her with barely contained aggression.

Who was more shocked? she wondered. Her or him?

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. ‘Meu Dios, you have to be joking.’ His Greek accent was suddenly pronounced. ‘I would never marry a woman like you.’

She wasn’t hurt by that comment, she told herself firmly. In fact it was good that he clearly found her repellent. The more repulsive she appeared to him, the greater the punishment. ‘It’s a real test of character, don’t you think? Just how far are you prepared to go for this one jewel? Are you prepared to marry a woman with an unfortunate personality who takes no pride in her appearance?’

He stood in rigid silence, his eyes stormy, his mouth set in a hard line.

Definitely he was Ares, she thought to herself with a flicker of trepidation. The Greek god of war. Handsome, but vain and cruel. Priorities in all the wrong places.

‘Why would you even suggest this? Why would a woman like you—’ his dark eyes swept over her in a disparaging look ‘—possibly want to marry me?’

‘I don’t want to marry you.’ Angie kept her voice calm. ‘I’m sure that comes as a surprise to you, given your natural arrogance, but it’s the truth. I have absolutely no wish to marry you. In fact, since we’re going for honesty here, I probably ought to confess that I find the prospect of spending time with you extremely distasteful.’ She saw him straighten his shoulders. Saw the disbelief in his eyes.

‘Women are queuing up to spend time with me.’

‘Well, you’re very rich,’ Angie muttered, ‘and that has to be advantageous for someone so mercenary and totally lacking in interpersonal skills.’ Something flashed in his eyes and for a brief terrifying moment she wondered whether she’d gone too far. Then the breath hissed through his teeth.

‘If that is truly your opinion of me, then why would you make such a ridiculous suggestion?’

‘Marriage, you mean? Because to force you to marry me would be the sweetest revenge.’ Wondering what on earth had come over her, she ploughed on. ‘You can’t stand me, can you? It pains you to even be near me. You can’t wait to remove me from your life. Well, it isn’t going to happen. You gave my sister a two-year contract with your company, so let’s switch the agreement. Two years, Nikos. You have to agree to stay married to me for two years.’

His jaw was clenched tight and she knew he was struggling not to release a stream of invective. ‘You too would be in this marriage that you propose.’

‘But the fundamental difference between us is that I have absolutely no interest in marrying anyone else so I might as well marry you. It would be entertaining, I think, to cramp your style and watch you squirm.’

He stared at her with incredulity. ‘You ask for the impossible.’

‘Nothing is impossible if you want it badly enough. Just how badly do you want your precious jewel, Nikos?’

He studied her for a long intense moment. ‘I have extremely powerful reasons for wanting that jewel.’

‘I’m sure you do. And all of them are financial.’

A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘You don’t understand anything about the situation, but if marrying you is the only way that the jewel can be returned to me, then I agree to your terms. Fortunately for you I’m feeling generous, so I’ll give you twenty-four hours to rethink your offer. I advise you to think hard.’

‘Offer?’ Dizzy with shock that he’d accepted her suggestion, she gave a humourless laugh, squashing down the sudden impulse to run and hide. ‘It wasn’t an offer, Mr Kyriacou, it was a threat.’

‘Yes.’ His smile was dangerous. ‘But a threat to whom, agape mou? Ask yourself that while you are lying there congratulating yourself on victory. Twenty-four hours. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Why did she suddenly have the feeling that he was the one in control?

His assumption that she’d be sitting around waiting for him outraged her. ‘I’m not in tomorrow. Actually, I have a date,’ she said on impulse and then winced, reluctant to examine the motives that had driven her to refer to her colleague as a ‘date’. ‘I’m going to a lecture on the protogeometric art of Crete at the museum with a special friend.’

He studied her for a moment and a faintly derisive smile touched his hard mouth. ‘You really know how to let your hair down, don’t you, Dr Littlewood? You’re a regular party animal. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Without giving her the opportunity to argue, he turned and strode out of the house, slamming the door behind him and leaving her boiling with frustration.

The restaurant was cheap, the meat tough and badly cooked and Angie prodded the food on her plate, trying to show interest in Cyril’s earnest summary of the lecture they’d just attended.

Why was she finding it so hard to concentrate? And why, all of a sudden, was she noticing things about him that she’d never noticed before? Things that she’d never considered to be important. Like the fact that his hair was slightly too long and untidy, his beard decidedly goaty and his checked shirt a painful clash with the ancient herringbone jacket that was probably a throwback to his university days. And, as for the way he ate—

She looked away from his open mouth, slightly revolted that his desire to talk appeared to be in no way impeded by his appetite. Suddenly she found herself comparing Cyril’s complete lack of social grace with Nikos Kyriacou’s smooth sophistication. An image of glossy dark hair and an arrogant stare filled her brain and she caught herself with a faint frown of annoyance. Why was she wasting a single thought on the man? Appearance didn’t matter to her. She didn’t judge people on such shallow terms. All right, so she couldn’t imagine Nikos Kyriacou eating with his mouth open and he certainly was astonishingly handsome but he was also a nasty person.

Possibly aware that he was losing her attention, Cyril leaned towards her as he talked, spraying food over the tablecloth, stabbing with a fork to illustrate the point he was making, and she shrank away slightly, reminding herself that he had an amazing intellect. It was only when Cyril stuttered to a halt in mid sentence and stared in astonishment at a point behind her left shoulder that she turned and saw Nikos Kyriacou standing by their table.

In a restaurant full of students and academic types watching their budget, he looked entirely out of place in his immaculate dark suit and silk shirt. Like a dish of caviare placed among plates of mass produced frozen pizza, she reflected absently, or a bottle of vintage champagne lined up alongside jugs of pond water. Just in a completely different class. Not that he was paying any attention to those around him. The focus of that hard, cold stare was her.

She shifted slightly under his unflinching scrutiny, aware that they were suddenly the subject of intense speculation by other diners.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Twenty-four hours are up,’ he reminded her in silky tones, enviably indifferent to the interest of those around him. On the tables closest to them, people had actually stopped eating, obviously aware that this was something worth watching.

‘I’m on a date.’

His gaze flickered to Cyril and there was sympathy and amusement in his eyes. ‘You find her company pleasurable?’

Cyril’s cheeks turned a mottled puce colour. ‘Dr Littlewood has the keenest brain I’ve ever encountered,’ he stuttered, dropping his fork and paper napkin simultaneously. ‘Her research into the methods used by—’

‘I’m sure her conversation can be very stimulating,’ Nikos drawled in a bored tone, silencing him with a lift of his bronzed hand, ‘although, speaking personally, the ability to converse about ancient pots isn’t at the top of the list of qualities I demand in a woman. In fact, when I’m on a “date” I don’t care if we don’t talk at all.’

The implication of his words wasn’t lost on Cyril and the mottled puce colour deepened and spread into his hair.

Completely mortified, Angie half rose to her feet. ‘Fortunately not everyone is like you.’ She kept her voice low, determined not to be overheard by the people at the next table. ‘You’re disgusting, do you know that?’

His features were impassive. ‘That’s no way to speak to your husband, agape mou. You need to learn some respect.’

She stilled. ‘You’re not my—’

‘No, I’m not.’ A faint smile touched his hard mouth. ‘But I will be.’

Her heart stumbled. ‘I didn’t think—’

‘No—’ The smile widened. ‘You definitely didn’t think and it’s entirely possible that you’ll come to regret that fact very shortly. But it’s too late for regret, because I’ve decided to accept your offer. The answer is yes, I will marry you.’

Cyril gave a strangled gasp and knocked his glass over. Cheap red wine poured over the tablecloth and dripped slowly on to the floor. ‘Angie? You asked this man to marry you?’

‘Very enlightened, don’t you think?’ His tone casual, Nikos reached out and closed strong fingers round Angie’s wrist, jerking her to her feet. ‘Some men might be put off by such brazen behaviour but I get very turned on by a woman who knows her own mind. In my experience they’re usually complete animals in bed.’

Deeply humiliated by his words and the fact that he hadn’t made the slightest effort to lower his voice, Angie tugged at her wrist, aware that Cyril was gaping at her along with just about every other person in the restaurant. ‘Let me go.’

Nikos tightened his grip and tugged her against him. ‘To have and to hold,’ he reminded her in smooth tones. ‘At the moment I’m doing the holding bit, but later on we’ll get to the “having” part of the arrangement and I predict that it will be extremely interesting.’

Unbelievably shocked and wishing she could just melt through the floor, Angie yanked at her wrist but failed to free herself. She couldn’t remember a moment in her life when she’d felt so completely humiliated. ‘I think we should continue this conversation outside.’

‘I entirely agree. I’ve never really been into the whole group thing.’ Nikos summoned a waiter with an imperious lift of his free hand. ‘And, speaking of which, you ought to know that I don’t actually allow my future wife to dine with another man, so if you want to say goodbye then do it now while I settle the bill. But no physical contact, please, especially no kissing.’ He handed a card to the waiter and Angie took a step backwards, feeling physically sick at the thought of actually kissing Cyril.

‘It’s typical of you to reduce everything to the physical. My relationship with Cyril is on a much higher level than anything you can possibly understand,’ she said tightly and Nikos gave a careless shrug of his broad shoulders.

‘I don’t really care what level my relationships are on providing they’re conducted in the horizontal plane.’

Angie enjoyed a brief but satisfying mental image of Cyril standing up and thumping Nikos hard but in reality he sat frozen in his chair, a look of stupefied disbelief on his face. And anyway, she thought gloomily, there was no doubting who the winner would be in any physical encounter. A man like Cyril, with his slightly bony hairless wrists sticking out from beyond a jacket that was much too small for him, was absolutely no match for Nikos, who was a prime specimen of athletic, muscled Greek manhood.

She gave a frown and a slight shake of her head, horrified by the direction of her thoughts. Cyril was a respected academic. A civilised person. He wouldn’t ever stoop so low as to indulge in physical confrontation and she wouldn’t want him to. She didn’t approve of such behaviour. On the other hand, she would have at least expected him to use some of his intellectual skills to deliver an appropriate verbal put-down.

She turned to him, frustrated that he would allow himself to be treated so badly. ‘Cyril—say something.’

‘Yes, please do feel free to contribute to the discussion.’ Nikos raised an eyebrow in mocking anticipation and Cyril spluttered slightly and half rose to his feet.

‘I—I can afford to pay for our meal.’

Angie ground her teeth and Nikos gave a half smile, clearly all too aware of her frustration. ‘I’m sure you can in a place like this. Consider it compensation,’ he drawled in a bored tone as he settled the bill and pocketed his card. His eyes rested on Angie for a long moment, his gaze faintly mocking. ‘Although, on reflection, you should probably be the one paying me to take her away. I’m doing you a favour. She would have made you miserable.’

‘And you think she can m-make you happy?’ Stammering and virtually incoherent with shock and surprise, Cyril rose to his feet but Nikos gently pushed him back into his seat.

‘She’s going to make me extremely unhappy,’ he said softly, ‘which I believe was her intention when she proposed. But nowhere near as unhappy as I intend to make her. And at least I know I won’t be bored.’

Without giving the shell-shocked Cyril time to compose a suitable response, Nikos strode from the restaurant, virtually dragging Angie after him. He pushed his way through the door of the restaurant and out on to the pavement without breaking stride and virtually threw her into the back of the black limousine waiting on the kerb.