His mouth tightened, throwing the cruel, severe lines of his face into sharp focus. For an instant, his gaze glowed with a savage intensity as though there was something very primitive beneath the sophistication. “Don’t be so sure of that, Ms. Nelson. You’ll be surprised at how well I understand the urge to survive.” He bent and picked up the file. “I don’t care if you robbed one house or a whole street to feed yourself. Nothing in the file has any relevance to me except your relationship with Tyler.”
His smooth mask was back on as he handed the file to her. “Do what you want with it.”
* * *
Nikos smiled as the slip of a woman snatched the file from him. Clutching the file to her body, she moved to the high-end shredder, ripped the pages with barely controlled vehemence and pushed them in.
With his photographic memory, he didn’t need to refer to the file, though. She was twenty-three years old, grew up in foster care, had little to no education, worked as a bartender at Vibe, a high-end club in Manhattan and had had one boyfriend, the charming Tyler.
Based on the personal history between her and Tyler, and the codependent relationship between them, Nikos had expected someone meek, plain, biddable, easily led, someone with no self-esteem.
The woman standing in front of the shredder, while small and not really a beauty, didn’t fall into any of those categories. The tight set of her shoulders, the straight spine, even her stance, with her legs apart and hands on her hips, brought a smile to his face. The fact that she wasn’t exactly what he had been expecting—really, though, what kind of a woman would be concerned about her lover’s new girlfriend?—meant he would have to alter his strategy.
She turned around, dark satisfaction glittering in her gaze. The hum of the shredder died down leaving the air thick with tension.
He ran his thumb over his jaw. “Are you satisfied now?”
“No,” she said, her mouth set into a straight, uncompromising line. “Whatever you might have read in that file, it should tell you I’m not an idiot. It was one paper copy I shredded. You and your P.I. still have the soft copy.”
He raised a brow as she picked up the paperweight from his desk and tossed it into the air and then caught it. “Then what was the point in shredding it?”
Up went the paperweight again, her blue gaze, alight with defiance, never wavering from him. “A symbolic act, an outlet because as much as I wish it—” she nodded at the shredder behind her and caught the paperweight in a deft movement “—I can’t do that to you.”
Nikos reached her in a single step and caught the paperweight midair this time, his hand grazing hers. She jumped back like a nervous kitten. “I mean you no harm, Ms. Nelson.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m a Victoria’s Secret model.”
Laughter barreled out of him. Her blue eyes wide, she stared at him.
She was no model with her boyish body and nonexistent curves. Yet there was something curiously appealing about her even to his refined tastes. “I think you’re a foot shorter—” he let his gaze rove over her small breasts, and her hands tightened around her waist “—and severely lacking in several strategic places.”
Crimson slashed her cheeks. She lifted her chin, her gaze assessing him, and despite himself, he was impressed. “Why the power play? You didn’t open that file in front of me to double-check your facts. You wanted me to know that you had all that information on me. Is that how you get your kicks? By collecting people’s weaknesses and using them to serve your purpose?”