Bought for the Greek's Revenge(14)

‘You’re worth much more than some tawdry affair with Drakos. I want to take you away from here today,’ he told her emphatically. ‘I want you to marry me. I’m asking you to be my wife.’

Her tummy gave a queasy lurch at the mere concept of that but she was careful to keep her face composed because, no matter how outlandish and inappropriate she found his proposal, she was still reluctant to hurt him. ‘I’m afraid I’ve never seen you in that light, Cyrus. I think of you as Paul’s uncle and a good friend.’

‘Clearly I’ve played the waiting game too long and too well,’ Cyrus said drily. ‘I didn’t want to make our relationship uncomfortable.’

Ella had never felt more uncomfortable with Cyrus than she did at that moment. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. If he had feelings for her, she could not return them and there was no way to wrap that wounding fact up as a compliment. ‘I do like and respect you.’

‘I should’ve spoken up sooner. You being here with Drakos suggests that I waited too long to tell you how I feel.’ Cyrus could not hide his loathing for Nikolai or his contempt as he voiced his name. ‘But I couldn’t help being aware that you had an abnormal relationship with my nephew and I didn’t want to put pressure on you.’

Ella had fallen very still. ‘Abnormal? In what way?’

‘Well, it certainly wasn’t normal for the two of you to be in a celibate engagement,’ Cyrus declared with a caustic derision that sent mortified colour flying into her cheeks. ‘You should know that by the time of his death Paul had no secrets from me.’

Severely discomfited, Ella turned from red to bone white and curved her hands tightly round her cup as if savouring that warmth.

‘But that wasn’t your fault...it was his. I was tempted to tell you what I knew after the funeral but I didn’t see that telling you that late in the day would be doing you any favours.’

Frowning, Ella leant forward in a sudden movement and put her cup back on the tray with a sharp little snap. ‘Telling me what, for goodness’ sake?’

‘Paul was involved in a homosexual relationship before he met you.’

Ella stared at him in complete disbelief. ‘That’s a total lie!’ she gasped.

‘I don’t know if he was gay, bisexual or simply confused, but Paul was definitely not attracted to women in the usual way,’ Cyrus continued in the same hectoring tone of superiority. ‘And once Paul realised he was ill, he clung to you for comfort and support and you gave it unstintingly. That’s why he asked you to marry him. He was terrified of losing you and being alone.’

‘It’s not true,’ Ella insisted in shock. ‘It can’t be true.’

‘I’m afraid it is true,’ Cyrus told her, curtly impatient. ‘And that background made it very difficult for me to know how best to proceed.’

Ella stood up in the hope of hastening his departure. ‘There was nothing to proceed with,’ she muttered in fierce rebuttal. ‘Even if it is, I’m not attracted to you as a man.’

Cyrus rose as well and moved closer. ‘How would you even know, Ella? You’ve never been with a real man.’

Rage finally filtered through Ella’s shock and freed her to speak her mind. ‘Paul was more of a real man than you’ll ever be! A good relationship isn’t necessarily dependent on sex.’

‘Let me show you what you’re rejecting out of misplaced loyalty!’ Cyrus grated, reaching for her. ‘Did you even listen to me? I did you the honour of asking you to marry me!’

‘Don’t touch me!’ Ella stepped sideways, only to be entrapped by the hand that closed roughly into her hair and yanked. Tears sprang to her eyes because it hurt. ‘Let go of me!’

Cyrus had gone all red and his face was a mask of offended fury. ‘I have every right to touch you!’ he hurled down at her, his other hand biting into her slight shoulder. ‘I spent a fortune helping Paul but it was all for your benefit. Are you aware that Drakos is the son of a drug dealer and a whore? Doesn’t that matter to you?’

With every angry word he was pushing her backwards and her calves hit the base of the sofa and his bullying momentum toppled her down on top of it.

‘I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing,’ he intoned viciously.





CHAPTER SIX

UPSTAIRS, NIKOLAI HAD stirred when the doorbell had rung and had then flinched when the front door had slammed loudly on Max’s exit. When his cell phone began ringing beside the bed, he groaned in frustration and gave up the attempt to continue sleeping.

He checked his watch as he lifted his phone. He had had a couple of hours and that would have to do, he reasoned, springing out of bed and raking his fingers through his tousled black hair. Talking on the phone, he strode into the bathroom to splash his face and froze halfway there as his brain kicked in and he recognised the controlled distress in the voice he was listening to. His shoulders slumped as he voiced his sympathy at yet another piece of bad news and then he tossed his phone down in disgust. The bar manager had passed away shortly after Nikolai had left the hospital.

He had pulled on jeans and was wandering barefoot back into the bedroom when a flash of bright colour outside attracted his attention. The drapes hadn’t been pulled properly. A very distinctive car was parked on the other side of the road. It was a bright yellow Ferrari and Nikolai knew exactly who that car belonged to. For a split second he couldn’t credit the coincidence and then it dawned on him that Ella was in the house and he couldn’t relax until he had checked on her. He raced downstairs, saw the drawing-room door ajar, heard Ella’s muffled shriek of pain and kicked the door wide.

Suddenly the weight pinning Ella to the sofa was gone. She blinked in bewilderment and shock as Cyrus went flying back against the wall opposite where Nikolai had flung him after dragging him off her. She sat up just as Nikolai punched the older man hard in the stomach and shouted at him in Greek. Cyrus had attacked her, had torn at her jeans and she was bruised and sore and shaken and frightened. Only the fear that Nikolai might kill Cyrus made her intervene. She stumbled across the room and wrenched at Nikolai’s arm.

‘No...no, don’t hit him again. You’ve hurt him enough!’ she gasped as Cyrus, blood running down his face, which was already swelling from several hits, dragged himself up clumsily from the floor and stumbled frantically towards the door.

‘He hurt you!’ Nikolai vented between gritted white teeth as he strode after the fleeing older man.

Again, Ella grabbed his arm to hold him back and give Cyrus enough time to make it out through the front door. ‘If you kill him you’ll go to prison for it...is that what you want?’

A string of Greek curses erupted from Nikolai as Ella slammed the door protectively in his enemy’s wake. ‘I should’ve warned you about him.’

‘You told me not to be alone with him. I didn’t pay any heed,’ she mumbled guiltily.

‘He’s been accused of getting rough with women before,’ Nikolai divulged.

Blood dripped down onto the polished wooden floor and she grabbed his hand to examine his bruised and bleeding knuckles. ‘You need cleaning up,’ she said, angling him towards the stairs.

‘What happened before he attacked you?’

‘He asked me to marry him and when I told him I wasn’t interested he went off in a rage,’ she told him in a daze. ‘If Gramma hadn’t already hinted to me that she thought he had a more than personal interest in me, I would’ve been gobsmacked. As it was, I tried to be polite. It never once occurred to me that he could be thinking of me like that.’

So, Cyrus had proposed. He had intended marriage. It should’ve been a moment of triumph for Nikolai but it fell resoundingly flat. He had wounded his opponent but Ella had been wounded too. He was appalled that Cyrus had contrived to violently assault Ella and he felt incredibly guilty about that reality. After all, he knew exactly what Cyrus was like and he had virtually set Ella up as a target for the older man’s frustrated rage. She could’ve been raped just as his sister had been and the mere concept of Ella enduring such a violation made Nikolai feel sick with guilt and self-loathing. He was supposed to be in control of events, but somewhere along the line of his plotting he had become selfish and reckless and Ella had very nearly paid the ultimate price. How irresponsible was that?

Even worse, Ella was now valiantly trying to urge him up the stairs as if he were the injured party and in need of the support of her tiny frame. In another mood he would have laughed at the incongruity of her sympathy for him at that moment. But he was not in a laughing mood any more than he was in a triumphant one.

‘What did he do to you?’ Nikolai demanded, thrusting open the bedroom door.

‘He was trying to kiss me and I twisted my face away and he yanked at my hair. I swear he pulled a handful of it out by the roots,’ she whispered, massaging her sore scalp. ‘He flattened me on the sofa and started pulling at my clothes. I never thought of him as a big, strong man but he was much stronger than me. I don’t think I could’ve got him off me without your help... Thank you.’