CHAPTER FOUR

      ELLA HAD TO smother a yawn while her nails were being done because she was bored stiff. A car had collected her and Butch early that morning and ferried them down to London. Parting from her father and grandmother had been tough but the knowledge that the family home was now safe and that her father was already making cheerful plans to open up a home office to work as an accountant had soothed her nerves. She had done the right thing, she was doing the right thing, she told herself urgently.

      As soon as she had arrived in London it had been clear that her entire day had already been mapped out for her. Ella had been dropped off first while Butch and her luggage had travelled on to the town house where she would apparently be staying.

      It was hours since she had arrived at the exclusive beauty salon where she had been waited on hand and foot, wrapped in fleecy towels and generally treated like an animated doll to be beautified. So far there was not one part of her that had not come in for some form of improving attention. She had been waxed and moisturised and polished to perfection. Her hair had been washed and conditioned and trimmed and now fell in silky waves round her shoulders.

      * * *

      In his office across the city, Nikolai couldn’t concentrate. She was within reach, in his home. He had never lived in his late grandfather’s house, however, and Ella would pretty much live there alone because Nikolai had no intention of giving up the privacy of his apartment. But his plan was coming to fruition. This very evening, Cyrus Makris would be back in London to attend the annual dinner being held to raise funds for Nikolai’s favourite charity. Cyrus was, of course, a generous benefactor. He always made a point of giving money to organisations that took care of the victims of abuse. His good reputation was of unparalleled importance to him and invariably his first line of defence. But whatever else he got, he wasn’t getting Ella, Nikolai reflected exultantly.

      * * *

      An older man wearing a bow tie and a smart black jacket opened the front door of the imposing town house. ‘Miss Palmer...please come in. I’m Max, Mr Drakos’s steward. I look after everything here.’

      Ella walked into a surprisingly dark and ornate hall and looked around in surprise. She had somehow assumed that Nikolai would live in a very contemporary setting. But as she glanced into a massive, equally dark reception room and rolled her eyes at the clutter on every surface, she could see that indoors the clock of time had reset to the late Victorian Gothic era of interior decoration.

      ‘My late employer, Mr Drakos’s grandfather, didn’t like change. This was originally his wife’s family home and he kept everything the way it was after his wife passed. He got very annoyed if I moved anything.’

      ‘My goodness; with all this stuff, how did he even notice something had been moved?’ Ella exclaimed, spinning round to gape at her surroundings.

      ‘Like the present Mr Drakos, he was a very clever and very observant man,’ Max told her. ‘Let me show you to your room.’

      ‘Where’s Butch...er...my dog?’ Ella asked.

      Max led her silently into a room with a tiled floor and a log burner. A scruffy terrier with flyaway ears lay sprawled across a rug there with Butch nestled against her. She was about twice Butch’s size but Ella’s pet showed no fear of the other animal. ‘Good grief,’ Ella framed as Butch leapt up and charged at her, his little eyes bright with welcome. His companion slowly sat up, voiced a half-hearted gruff bark before dropping her head down again, her attention welded to Butch.

      ‘That’s Mr Drakos’s dog, Rory. Officially she’s called Aurora. Rory took an immediate liking to Butch and has been cuddled up to him ever since. I expect she’s enjoying the company.’

      ‘I didn’t know Mr Drakos had a pet.’

      ‘She travels a lot with my employer. I’ll show you upstairs now.’ Max led the way up the elegant staircase.

      The bed in the spacious bedroom was new, she was relieved to note, but the elaborate ebonised furniture followed the same theme as the ground-floor décor. Max opened a door to show off a high-tech en suite and she smiled. ‘That must be a recent improvement.’

      ‘When the electric and plumbing were being renewed Mr Drakos took the opportunity to install bathrooms and replace the kitchen. The redecoration project is awaiting the attention of the new mistress of the house,’ Max remarked, flicking her a conspiratorial sidewise glance that made her stiffen as comprehension set in.

      Seemingly the older man had misinterpreted her role in Nikolai’s life and had assumed she was destined to be a wife, who would eventually take charge of the household. That was so far from the truth that it pained Ella like a nagging toothache. Max brought up her luggage and then reappeared with a beautiful long dress sheathed in a protective covering, other packaged items and several jewel boxes.

      ‘Deliveries from Mr Drakos,’ he announced. ‘He phoned to say that he would collect you at seven.’

      Ella raised a brow and said nothing.

      Unfurling her phone, she called Nikolai when Max had left the room. ‘It’s Ella. Are we going out tonight?’

      ‘Yes, I’m taking you to a gala dinner. I sent a dress, accessories and jewellery for you to wear. Haven’t you received them yet? Didn’t Max mention my call?’

      ‘Yes...and yes. But you should’ve informed me in person.’

      Nikolai compressed his hard, sensual mouth. This was why he didn’t do relationships with women. He didn’t want the petty squabbles, the clingy expectations or the too easy taking of offence to disrupt his day. ‘I’m very busy,’ he told her honestly.

      ‘Since when have you been buying me clothes?’

      ‘This is your new life, Ella. There’ll be big changes. Get used to it.’

      Seething at his stubborn, uncompromising stance, Ella ended the call. She unzipped the garment bag to reveal a designer gown. Although sleeveless and conservative in style, it was composed of the most beautiful white fabric overlaid with a shimmer of gold that glistened in the light. It was what Ella would have described as a dress fit for a princess and she was a little surprised it wasn’t pink in colour and very puffy in shape. Was this what mistresses were wearing this season? Surely something sleek and black with a plunging neckline would have been more appropriate? Then it occurred to her that she had very little to show off in a plunging neckline and she squirmed.

      Her cheeks fired up at the acknowledgement that she had agreed to be Nikolai’s mistress. She studied the low, wide bed with its pristine white bedding and groaned out loud. Indecision was tearing her in two. Suddenly she felt as if she didn’t know herself any more because one half of her was beyond excited at the prospect of sharing that bed with Nikolai while the other half of her was shocked and panicky. Which of those halves was her true self? In that instant she felt plunged into emotional turmoil.

      Could she do it? Have meaningless sex without making a fuss about it? She wanted him, didn’t she? The tightness in her chest eased at the acceptance of that fact, which made her feel more in control. Nikolai had forced a hard choice on her but what she made of the next step was solely her department. And if she was about to officially become a mistress there wasn’t much point in slinking