Bought for the Greek's Revenge(12)

Suddenly everything Ella had believed she knew about Cyrus had been thrown into turmoil. Surely she was wrong, surely she had to be wrong?

Troubled, she looked back on the history of their relationship. Before Paul’s illness was diagnosed he had applied to Cyrus for a working placement in one of the older man’s businesses.

‘Yes, I’m trying to pull strings because he’s my uncle but why shouldn’t I?’ Paul had said defensively. ‘My mother was the daughter of a very rich Greek but she was thrown out of the family for marrying my father because he was British and poor by their standards. Cyrus is her brother. I’ll have to hope that he’s not as prejudiced as his father.’

Ella had been with Paul the first time he’d met his uncle and Cyrus had given him the placement. Later he had invited them both to his country house and had pledged his support while Paul was ill. He had not let them down either, Ella recalled unhappily. Yes, Cyrus had been different with her tonight but wasn’t there some excuse for his anger? He was a friend but she certainly hadn’t treated him like a friend. She could’ve told him she was coming to London with Nikolai, but she hadn’t because Nikolai had insisted that no one other than her family and Rosie was allowed to know that she was leaving home.

* * *

Ella glided back to Nikolai’s side and within minutes they were being seated at their table. There was no opportunity for any private conversation but Nikolai’s grim profile and clipped speech spoke for him. Nikolai was angry with her and what remained of the evening passed in an uncomfortable blur. He had told her to cut Cyrus dead and she had disobeyed. But how could she cut dead the man who had found Paul an apartment close to the hospital where he had been receiving treatment? The man who had housed him and hired a nurse to care for him while he was dying? The man who had been by her side when Paul had breathed his last? Tears burned at the backs of Ella’s eyes.

Cyrus had said that Nikolai was a complete bastard with women, and notorious. And wasn’t his treatment of Ella the living proof of that? Was that immoral choice he had given her to be his get-out clause? Her body in return for her family’s security and happiness? But she had agreed and, what was more, had sworn she would not make a big drama over it. So where did that leave her? Up the creek without a paddle, she reckoned wretchedly.

‘You’re furious with me,’ she breathed to break the intolerable silence in the limousine returning them to the apartment.

‘We’ll discuss it when we get back to the house,’ Nikolai breathed darkly, lounging back in his corner of the limo and splaying his lean, powerful thighs as he surveyed her.

She had defied him in spite of his instructions. Mutiny was etched in the set of her delicate jawline, obstinacy in the jut of her determined little chin. And damn her but it made him want her more than ever! How was that possible when she was crossing him at every turn? It was irrational and he was not an irrational man. He could, of course, have told her the truth about Cyrus, but she probably wouldn’t believe him because he suspected she had seen a side of Cyrus granted to few. He could not risk telling Ella anything because how could he possibly know that he could trust her?

But his inability to trust wasn’t uppermost in his mind at that moment. Acting on impulse, he slid along the passenger seat and gathered her stiff little body into his arms.

‘What the—?’ Ella gasped, jerking in stark disconcertion.

‘He shouldn’t have touched you,’ Nikolai growled against her parted lips. ‘You’re not his to touch.’

And he crushed her soft, full mouth under his with all the hunger powering him. She went limp and kissed him back, a little whimper escaping her as his tongue flicked against hers. He felt her arms come up round his neck and he almost smiled. Talking was a vastly overrated exercise. Sometimes action talked louder and she was his, indisputably his when he touched her, her lithe little body curling into him, one hand stroking his shoulder, the other delving into his hair.

Nikolai thought of lifting the skirt of her gown, swivelling her round, ripping off her panties and sating the overwhelming need that was making him ache. Black lashes lifting, he wrenched his mouth free of the clinging passion of hers and released a long shuddering sigh.

‘I’m burning up for you. I spent the day planning what I want to do with you in bed.’

‘I spent the day bored out of my mind at that beauty salon,’ Ella confided helplessly. ‘What did you plan to do?’

Nikolai whispered and her bones melted like honey, desire clenching her feminine core and tightening her nipples into straining buds.

‘Not to be recommended even in a limo,’ Nikolai concluded as he settled her circumspectly back in her corner of the seat. ‘But a guy can dream...’

Ella smoothed down her skirt and fought to catch her breath. His words had undone her. She was with a male who could be bold and unconventional when he felt the urge. The price? Now she was all overheated and quivery and wanton and shocked at herself. Only minutes earlier she had been resentful and confused and unbearably tense but he had contrived to release that tension in the most unexpected way.

Nikolai followed her into the truly hideous drawing room with its swagged and canopied drapes and looming dark furniture. It put him in mind of a funeral parlour and he wished he had had the time to throw in an interior decorator to modernise the place. ‘So, tell me,’ he urged ruefully. ‘What were you playing at tonight with Cyrus?’

‘I spoke to Cyrus because he’s a friend.’

Nikolai reacted as fast as a whip. He grabbed her hand and turned up her slender wrist where the skin was now showing purpling black fingerprints. ‘A friend did this?’ he growled in disbelief.

‘It was an accident. He was angry because I hadn’t told him that I was leaving home. I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt me!’ Ella protested, snatching her hand back protectively. ‘What’s it to you anyway?’

‘I’m the one responsible for your safety and, let me tell you now, you are not safe with Cyrus. Don’t ever be alone with him anywhere,’ Nikolai bit out forcefully.

‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say,’ Ella framed in bewilderment. ‘He warned me off you too.’

Nikolai threw back his head. ‘Did he indeed?’

‘He said you were a complete bastard with women, notorious,’ she recited curtly.

‘If being honest about my lack of honourable or long-term intentions is being a bastard, then I’m guilty as charged. Do you want a drink?’

‘White wine,’ she muttered. ‘Th—thanks.’ Her voice tripped on the word as he pressed a wine glass into her hand.

Nikolai tipped back his brandy in an unappreciative gulp. ‘I need you to do as I ask, Ella, not as you want.’

‘I need you to be human...seems we’re both destined to disappointment,’ she whispered round the rim of her glass.

‘I don’t handle disappointment well. For your own sake, stay away from Cyrus,’ he breathed in a driven undertone.

Ella studied him and wondered how he could expect her to trust him over Cyrus when Cyrus had already earned her trust. Incomprehension assailed her because Nikolai was by no means slow on the uptake. The two men disliked each other; she had got that message loud and clear from both of them. The difference between them was in her reaction. Cyrus’s behaviour had confused and troubled her but, inexplicably, Nikolai’s reaction tore her up inside. And she didn’t know why. She had no more idea why when she looked at his lean, darkly handsome features and sensed vulnerability, because from the outside Nikolai didn’t have a vulnerable bone in his big, powerful body.

Max knocked at the door and offered supper. Both of them declined and the pitter-patter of running paws on the tiled hall floor announced the entry of the dogs. Rory hurled herself joyfully against Nikolai’s legs while Butch bounced around Ella, stayed just long enough to get a pat and then went to join Rory.

‘I was surprised you had a pet,’ Ella admitted abstractedly.

Nikolai glanced at her and straightened from greeting the shaggy little mongrel at his feet. ‘I can’t take the applause for that. Rory belonged to my sister. She called her Princess Aurora...my sister had a love of all things fairy tale,’ he murmured stiffly, his lean, strong face shadowing. ‘After she died, I couldn’t bring myself to part with her dog, so I kept her.’

‘I didn’t know you’d lost someone,’ she muttered as the dogs raced out again in pursuit of Max.

‘Most of us have by the time we reach our third decade.’

‘Doesn’t make coping with it any easier,’ Ella remarked.

A phone rang and Nikolai dug a cell out of his pocket and answered it. As soon as he did she saw his face change, paling and clenching hard. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

‘What is it? What’s happened?’

‘There’s been a fire...at my hotel. I need to get over there.’

‘My goodness...is there anything I can do to help?’ Ella exclaimed.

‘No, just go to bed. I’ll see you later...most probably tomorrow.’

After his sudden departure, Ella walked out to the cosy room off the kitchen where Max was watching television with the dogs at his feet. He stood up. ‘Did you change your mind about supper?’