Bought for the Billionaire's Revenge(25)

And he felt nothing. Except, perhaps, a pervasive pity for this man who had let vanity and arrogance get in the way of financial security. His voice was softer when he spoke again, conciliatory.

‘You cannot lose your business. Nor this house. It would devastate Marnie.’

‘Marnie?’ A scoff of surprise. ‘She’d recover. This place never meant to her what it did to Libby.’

Nikos’s fingers flexed into a fist on his lap, but he kept his face impassive. How was it possible that her own father understood her so little? Did he not see what she didn’t say? Didn’t he understand that her reticence to express emotions didn’t mean that she lacked them?

‘It is for Marnie’s sake that I offer my assistance, so do not disdain her feelings.’

The statement held a barely contained warning. Nikos, though, knew he had no option but to help. It was a promise he had made to Marnie and he would never break it.

Arthur dragged a hand through his hair, his eyes skidding about the room. ‘There has to be a way...’

‘Yes. There is. I’m it. You know I have the money. A single phone call would remove this worry from your life.’

‘You have the money?’ Arthur spat, his eyes glistening with dark rage. ‘You. A boy I all but dismissed as—’ He had the wisdom to cut the sentence off.

‘Yes?’ Nikos demanded through bared teeth.

‘Worthless.’ Arthur spat the word with satisfaction.

Nikos stood, his powerful stride taking him to the window. He looked down on Libby’s garden and imagined Marnie there. His will strengthened. The papers he’d had couriered to him that morning were heavy in his pocket, begging for attention.

‘You were wrong.’ He turned, his eyes pinning Arthur where he sat. ‘Do you want my help or not?’

A long silence clouded them. Nikos studied his opponent—there was no mistaking the adversarial nature of their relationship in that moment. With no one else to witness their interaction both men had dropped their masks of civility.

‘I offer it to you with only one condition.’

Arthur snorted. ‘I knew it was too good to be true.’

‘Perhaps.’ Nikos nodded, knowing for certain now the only way he could make sure Marnie was well-looked-after for the rest of her life. ‘But it is your only chance to salvage something of your pride, so I suggest you listen.’

‘The gloves are off, eh?’ Arthur snapped, but there was weariness in his defiance.

‘If the gloves were off you would know about it,’ Nikos contradicted. ‘The terms of my helping you are to stay between us. Marnie need never know what we have discussed here. Understood?’

* * *

Was it any wonder that, hours later, surrounded by formally dressed party guests, Arthur Kenington stayed as far from Nikos as possible? His concessions that afternoon had been hard-fought and potentially confidence-destroying. Evidently he found the idea of celebrating his birthday with his son-in-law impossible to contemplate.

Nikos didn’t mind. In fact he barely noticed. Making Arthur eat crow had offered him no satisfaction, and yet he’d thought about the moment for years. How odd that once he’d had the chance to make the man beg for help he’d skated over it and provided assistance on a silver platter instead.

He considered the matter with Arthur closed. He didn’t intend to think of it again save for one salient point that would require delicate handling. Would Marnie be angry when she discovered the exact nature of his help? Would she resent what he’d done?

His entire focus shifted to her. He watched her speaking to her parents’ friends with the effortless grace that had first captivated his attention. Holding a glass of Scotch cradled in the palm of his hand, he felt the full force of that long-ago afternoon swarm through him.

He had come to Kenington Hall reluctantly. Spending time with Anderson and Libby had tended to leave him feeling like a third wheel, and yet Anderson had been so welcoming to him. He had been the one guy at school who hadn’t seen Nikos as an outsider, and Nikos had repaid his friendship with unswerving loyalty. So when Anderson had asked Nikos to tag along he’d put aside his own reticence and travelled to the estate of one of England’s noble families.

And he’d met Marnie.

She’d been seventeen and utterly breathtaking.

‘Don’t go near the horses. They’re in a foul mood today!’

She had laughed as she’d torn past him, her long hair flowing behind her, the horse moving too quickly to catch more than a passing glimpse. Yet she’d reminded him of a sort of young Boadicea. Beautiful and strong, striking and confident, full of life and vitality.

Had he loved her from that moment? He’d certainly been fascinated.

‘Hi.’

Her voice came to him now as if from a long way away. He lifted his head, capturing her in his gaze. But that moment was still around him and before he could question the wisdom of it he smiled at her as though they were back in that time, just Nikos and Marnie, without all the subsequent heartbreak.

She felt the purity of his look and it rang through her, but she’d been worrying all afternoon and the habit was hard to break. ‘Did you speak to him?’

He nodded, his stubborn smile still on his features.

Her hair had caught the sunshine as she’d gone past him that day. It had been like gold. He reached for it now and flicked the ends, bringing his body close to hers. She smelled good. Like apples and desire.

‘And...?’ Her eyes skimmed his, but her breath was coming fast and hard, making her breasts lift and fall.

‘And what?’ he prompted, wrapping his arms around her waist.

The band was playing a slow jazz song, the singer crooning gently into the elegant space. The formal dining room was large, and it had been converted into a ballroom for the purpose of tonight. Enormous flower arrangements punctuated the walls at regular intervals.

‘Did you...?’ She looked around, conscious of their surroundings.

‘Yes?’ he drawled, though he knew where she was going.

‘Did you fix it?’

‘Well, I couldn’t transfer a hundred million pounds to your father in one afternoon,’ he murmured sardonically, ‘but, yes, agape. He has agreed to accept my help.’

She let out a whoosh of relief and he studied her features thoughtfully.

‘You thought he might refuse? Even now?’

She shrugged, her shoulders slim and pale. ‘I don’t know. Like I said, he’s stubborn.’

‘You don’t need to worry about it any more,’ he said gently.

‘I know.’ She smiled up at him. ‘Am I allowed to thank you now?’

‘No.’ He drew her closer, so that she could feel the strength of his body.

‘Why not?’

‘My helping him was entirely self-serving. You don’t owe me thanks.’

She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the beating of his strong heart. ‘Was he grateful?’ she asked instead, changing tack slightly.

His laugh was quiet but she felt it rumble through him.

‘He was incensed.’

She grimaced. ‘It wouldn’t have been easy for him to face you, knowing what a mess his interests are in.’

‘No,’ Nikos conceded, without feeling the need to point out that Arthur only had himself to blame.

‘I don’t care.’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m going to thank you, anyway. How can I not?’

He stared down at her familiar face and the past blurred with the present. ‘Fine. Then I can tell you how I wish you to express your gratitude.’

‘Yes?’ she murmured, her stomach swirling.

‘For this night let’s not speak about your family. Nor our past. We have spent a month retracing it and I wonder if we’ll ever understand one another. Tonight I just want to dance with my wife. To kiss her. To feel her body. To be here with her and not think about the reasons we married. Deal?’

Hope blew open inside her. Surely that spoke of wanting a fresh start—of believing they were worthy of one. She looked at him for a long moment and knew exactly what it was that danced with hope.

Love.

Love for him.

Despite everything he’d done to get her into his life, she felt fierce love burst through her. It was not born of gratitude. Nor circumstances. It was the same love she’d always felt for him, only stronger—because it had been scorched by life, loss and disappointment and still it was there.

She stood up on tiptoe and pressed her lips lightly to his.

‘Deal.’

The next song was another indistinct jazz tune. The singer’s voice was low and husky and they danced slowly, in the middle of the crowd but aware only of each other. Marnie breathed in time with him, her eyes whispering shut, every fibre of her being in sync with her husband. So that when he stopped dancing and dropped his arms to his sides, capturing one of her hands in the process, and began to move towards the large glass doors, Marnie went with him without question.

‘Do you know what I was thinking about today?’ he asked as they emerged to see the moon casting a silver string from the inky sky above.

‘Other than the significant hit your finances are about to take?’ she offered with a teasing smile.

‘Other than that.’ He guided her along the terrace towards a small courtyard he’d seen earlier that day.