Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled With Rubies
Page 19
And yet there was no doubt that she considered her hair to be nothing more than an annoyance as she reached for the clip to fasten it back from her face but was then distracted by a student who approached to ask her a question.
She immediately forgot her hair and became absorbed in the discussion. Another student approached and, by the time they reluctantly allowed her to stop talking, the rest of the lecture theatre had emptied.
He stood up and strolled down the steps towards her, watching as she reached for the files on the desk and gathered them up. Only as she turned did she finally notice Nikos standing in front of her.
‘I find it hard to believe that you’ve suddenly developed an interest in Greek pottery of the classical era.’ Her tone was brittle as she clutched the files to her chest, clearly shocked to see him. ‘So I assume you’re here for another reason, Mr Kyriacou.’ Behind her glasses, her blue eyes seemed more luminous than ever and he found himself wanting to rip off the glasses and study her face properly.
‘Let’s not play games, Dr Littlewood.’ Angered by an impulse that he didn’t understand, he walked forward and picked up a pot that lay on the desk, turning it over in his hands. ‘Very pretty. A good copy of a psykter—a red figured wine cooler. It would have been filled with wine and floated in ice cold water until the wine was cool enough to drink. About 500 BC?’ He saw surprise in her eyes.
‘You clearly paid attention in the lecture.’
‘I’m Greek,’ he reminded her softly, returning the pot to its place on the table. ‘I’m interested in the heritage of my country. And also that of my family.’ He let the words hang in the air for a moment and saw her chin lift.
‘If you’re referring to the necklace, then I should warn you that I haven’t yet had a chance to look for it.’
‘You’re lying.’ His eyes rested on her nose and he noticed the tiny freckles that danced over her pale skin. ‘The first thing you would have done when you arrived home last night was look for it.’ The faint colour that touched her cheeks told him that his assessment was accurate.
‘The first thing I did when I arrived home last night was care for my mother. She is extremely unwell and has been since we received the news of Tiffany’s death. Searching through my sister’s belongings is a low priority.’
‘In that case, give me the suitcase and I will conduct the search myself.’
Her eyes flashed with anger and contempt. ‘Your schedule is of absolutely no interest to me whatsoever and if you come within a million miles of our house, Mr Kyriacou, I will call the police.’
Unaccustomed to being continually challenged, Nikos felt his frustration rise. ‘I’m ordering you to give me the diamond.’
‘And I don’t respond to orders, especially from people I don’t respect.’
Swiftly he changed tack. ‘If you’re thinking, even for a moment, that you can make money out of this situation then let me tell you right away that you’re in for a severe disappointment. The diamond does not belong to you or your late sister. If you are planning to sell the jewel for money then it’s only fair to warn you that it would prove impossible to find a buyer. The stone is so famous that no reputable dealer will touch it and its value is incalculable.’
‘You still think this is about money?’ She threw her head back and her hair poured over her shoulders like tongues of flame. ‘Is that all you think about? How very sad your life must be!’ The raw blaze of anger in her eyes caught his attention and he watched her transform in front of his eyes. From cool academic to passionate woman.
She was still dressed in the boring, sober suit but Nikos no longer noticed what she was wearing. He was transfixed by the burning fire in her unusual blue eyes and by the almost feral wildness of her hair.
Accustomed to women who existed from one blow-dry to the next, women who discouraged any activity which might disturb razor-sharp perfection, Nikos suddenly had an inexplicable desire to sink his hand into those wild fiery curls and bring his mouth down hard on hers. Just how far did that wildness of hers extend?
Seriously disturbed by the entirely inappropriate direction of his own thoughts, he took a step backwards just to make absolutely sure that he wasn’t tempted to touch her. ‘It isn’t about money. It’s about regaining something which is rightfully mine.’
‘You are an insult to the human race!’ She stepped off the podium and stalked towards him, her anger a live and powerful force. ‘Six months ago my sister died falling from your balcony and we heard nothing from you. Nothing! And now you have the gross insensitivity to turn up here asking for a piece of jewellery. Do you have no compassion? Do you have no sense of human decency?’ Visibly shaken by her own outburst, she took several deep breaths and he found himself staring at her mouth, captivated by the soft, ripe curve of her lower lip. The slight fullness gave an impression of sensuality while a tiny dimple in the corner of her mouth hinted at vulnerability.
The atmosphere throbbed with tension and Nikos forced himself to remember that Angie Littlewood was a woman to whom sensuality was entirely foreign. ‘The very first words I spoke to you were of condolence.’
She was standing right in front of him now, chin lifted, eyes blazing into his. A faint scent teased his nostrils and he wondered for a moment whether she was woman enough to enjoy perfume and then decided that what he could smell was probably her shampoo.
‘Words are nothing without the appropriate feeling behind them and we both know that you are entirely devoid of feeling.’ She spat the words angrily and he ground his teeth.
‘I make excuses for your behaviour because I know you are distressed about your sister.’
She gasped. ‘My behaviour? I’m not the one who seduced and misled an innocent young girl—who made her so utterly miserable she drank herself into oblivion and then fell to her death. I think if we’re examining anyone’s behaviour here it should be yours but the difference is that I’m not prepared to excuse you. You are a ruthless, self-seeking, egocentric bastard—’ She stopped as she said the word and lifted a hand to her mouth, shock and confusion on her pale face. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she began stiffly and he raised an eyebrow, wondering why she felt the need to apologise.
‘Sorry for what? For using the same language that your sister frequently used?’
Colour touched her cheeks. ‘We’re not—I mean, I’m not—’ She gave a faint frown as if she were trying to remember the point of their argument. ‘You think of nothing but money and possessions and you need to be taught that there are other things that matter. I’m not prepared to give you your jewel.’ Her voice cracked. ‘It was the last thing she was wearing. I can’t—why would you need it, anyway? It was supposed to be given to the woman of your heart and we both know that you don’t have a heart, Mr Kyriacou.’
Not prepared to give him the diamond?
Nikos stared at her in a state of stunned disbelief. It hadn’t occurred to him, even for a moment, that she’d seriously refuse to hand over the jewel.
Shaken by the less than welcome knowledge that he’d underestimated an opponent for the first time in his life, Nikos stood frozen to the spot, watching as she strode from the room and slammed the door so hard that the sound echoed round the abandoned lecture theatre for several seconds.
Nikos stared after her, his brain still filled with the vision of flashing blue eyes and fiery red hair.
What, he thought to himself, was he going to do now?
Chapter Three
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—
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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 wit
h 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.’