The Balfour Legacy. Кэрол Мортимер
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acidly, thinking of Lois Mansell, who he had been with just last night.
She pitied the one he’d just kissed and walked away from, she decided as she turned and strode off in the opposite direction. For there was one lesson Nikos had already taught her which stopped her short of being jealous of the new blonde and the kiss—he left with the woman he arrived with and saw her safely back to her own front door.
Or her bedroom door in her case tonight.
Or inside the bedroom door if it was anyone else.
A hand caught her wrist as she was about to continue through the open doors onto the pool terrace. For a brief second she thought it was Nikos and a wry smile curved her mouth as she turned her head with the intention of telling him the half an hour was not yet up.
But the smile died along with her sinking heart when she found herself staring into the cold silver eyes of Anton Brunel.
‘I want words with you,’ he informed her thinly.
‘I don’t think so.’ Trying to pull free from his grip, her wrist hurt when he tightened his hold on it. ‘Let go of me!’ She frowned at him in contemptuous surprise.
‘Not until I get some answers from you.’
Pulling her away from the doorway, he swung her into a corner of the room behind a giant palm plant. ‘Right,’ he said, pushing his handsome face up close to hers. ‘You owe me a bloody explanation as to what the hell you think you’re playing at, telling lies about me to Theakis!’
‘I did not lie about you,’ Mia denied, wincing when his hard fingers crunched the tender bones in her wrist.
‘You spent that whole lunch turning me on with your sexy-eyed promises, then you told him it was me coming on to you!’
‘You live in a strange place in your head, signor, if you truly believe what you just said,’ Mia retorted scornfully, still trying to get away from him and glancing over the top of his blocking shoulder to see if anyone had noticed the way he’d cornered her like this.
It came as a shock to realise that he’d chosen his spot carefully because the palm plant virtually sealed them off from view.
Then she gasped when he pushed in on her, his body pressing her back against the wall. ‘Listen to me,’ he rasped. ‘I want you to tell that jealous bastard the truth! You came on to me! You offered yourself up over the damn lunch table, and if I took the bait, he only has you to blame. I don’t see why I should take the flack and lose the best investment deal I had going for my company because you like to play sex games across a table!’
His face was so close to hers that she was breathing in the alcohol from his angry breath.
‘I would not play sex games across anything with you,’ Mia whipped back, shuddering with distaste. ‘And if you don’t release me from this corner I will start shouting for help!’
‘No, you won’t,’ he jeered. ‘You’re a Balfour, and too damn scared of making a scene here. Theakis won’t like it. Darling daddy won’t like it.’
‘But I am not making the scene—you are! Now—let—me—go!’
With an angry tug she managed to yank her wrist free. As he went to grab hold of her again, she pushed at his body with her two clenched fists and enough angry strength to make him stagger back a small step, giving her just enough space to slither around him and get away.
Shaking inside with anger and reaction, she hurried out onto the pool terrace. Scared that he might be following her but determined not to look back and check, she made for the first group of people she saw standing by the swimming pool, and with a deep breath to calm her unsteady breathing, she ventured close enough for them to notice her, and smiled gratefully when they widened the circle to invite her to join in.
Did she do the things Anton Brunel had accused her of doing? Her eyes glazed with the agonised knowledge that she might have done without knowing she was even doing it. But did not knowing make her any less guilty? Hadn’t Nikos accused her of doing the same thing to the waiter at the restaurant last night?
What was she, some kind of unwitting man-teaser?
And her wrist was hurting, she noticed, carefully rubbing the place where Anton Brunel had dug into her bones. Someone offered her a glass of champagne. She smiled as she took it, and hoped the thoughtful person could not see the strain in her eyes.
She did not want to be a man-teaser. She did not like what it meant.
She thought about taking a sip from her glass but she knew she would not be able to swallow. Her throat felt thick and her nerves were still jangling like mad. It was dark outside now and the air was cooler than it had been earlier. Soft lighting had been switched on to light the way to the marquee set up in the garden and the pool glittered a soft aqua blue.
She caught the smooth deep tones of Nikos’s voice and turned to watch him appear in the doorway leading back into the main reception room. He was flanked either side by Santino D’Lassio and Nina, his beautiful flame-haired wife. All three of them were smiling, relaxed—friends by their easy manner with one another.
Someone called out, ‘Hey, Nina! When are you going to feed us?’
And Nina D’Lassio’s light laughter filled the terrace, making Mia find a small smile too because the laughter was contagious. Then a hand arrived in the centre of her back and pushed, propelling her forward. For a moment she teetered like a ballerina on the tips of her toes, fighting the momentum trying to pitch her forwards, her eyes wide as she stared into the lit blue depths of the swimming pool.
Then she lost the battle and the next thing she knew she was falling, her sharp cry of shock the last thing she remembered before she sank beneath the depths of the cool blue waters.
Nikos was grabbing her arms even as she broke through the surface again, winded and gasping for breath. It was his fiercely clenched face she first focused on, his blazing black eyes, as he hauled her up and out of the water like a quivering, shivering, dripping wet rag.
Camera bulbs flashed in the stunning silence that hung over the pool terrace. Still too shocked to care right now, her fingers clutched at the bunched muscles in Nikos’s forearms in an effort to remain standing upright. Her legs had turned to jelly and she’d lost her shoes in the tumble. Her hair had come loose and now it was dripping all over her face, and stinging hot tears were hurting her eyes.
‘What happened?’ Nikos roughed out harshly.
‘I would swear someone gave her a push,’ a disembodied voice claimed, and hearing someone say it out loud like that sent the air choking from her lungs on a broken sob.
Cursing softly Nikos tried to fold her into the shelter of his arms but she held back. ‘I will wet you.’
‘Do you think I care about that?’
A large warm towel arrived around her shoulders and she huddled into it gratefully, shivering badly now as the cool evening air struck deep into her wet skin.
‘Are you all right, Mia—?’ It was only when she heard Nina D’Lassio’s anxious question that she realised it must be her hostess who’d been so quick to produce the towel she was huddling into. ‘Are you hurt anywhere?’
With a shake of her head Mia made an effort to pull herself together, found the strength to push her wet hair from her face and discovered that her wrist was still hurting.
‘I’m OK,’ she shivered out, fighting to slow the pounding pump of her heartbeat. She managed to let out a small shrill laugh. ‘I don’t know how that h-happened but I will not be offended if you believe I am drunk!’
An appreciative ripple of laughter ran around the terrace. After that, people began to relax and talk again, giving her a chance to try and take stock of what she must look like. Staring down she saw that her dress was ruined, her bare toes curling into the cold white tiling in between the solid plant of Nikos’s black