Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled with Rubies. Robyn Donald
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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