Sick to the stomach at the idea, Leah slung him a thwarted look of loathing and turned away.
‘You return to London and pack. We’re flying to Greece in forty-eight hours.’
‘Greece?’ she echoed.
‘It’s time you met my family.’
‘No way am I staying married to you and no way am I going to Greece!’
‘Go take a long, cool shower and concentrate on the absence of options available,’ Nik advised drily. ‘And when you’ve finished doing that, think about how long Woods lingered in your dizzy brain when you were in my arms last night.’
‘You bastard...’ It was a derogatory term she had never used before, a word she had never liked, but it came out all the same.
Nik stilled. ‘And why do you call me that?’
She went icy cold under the onslaught of his savage gaze.
‘Why?’ he persisted.
‘Well, why not?’ Leah backed away, shocked by the menacing vibrations churning up the atmosphere around them. ‘You swine...’ she fumbled stupidly.
‘I can live with that one.’ His intense gaze veiled, his expressive mouth compressing. ‘Leah...we could have a very good marriage. Keep that in mind.’
‘You have to be joking,’ she muttered tightly.
‘I realise that the martyr mentality has got a good grip on you. But I’m asking you to give us a chance.’
Her bewildered eyes flickered over his taut features. She marked the fierce determination etched there, recognised the suppressed emotion edging his dark drawl. His tension sprang out at her, as though he felt he was putting his pride on the line in making such a request. It shook her, unsettled her on some level she was reluctant to probe. Hurriedly she turned away in silence.
‘Leah, do you want the information I have on Woods?’
Her stomach heaved. Dear God but Nik was unscrupulous. How on earth had he contrived to find out so much about Paul late last night? But then money talked, didn’t it? And the few facts might have been correct but the rest was lies. Lies it suited Nik to tell, and cheap at the price if they undermined her faith in the man she loved. But Nik did not know how strong that love was. How could he? Love didn’t enter into his requirements for marriage or his extra-marital activities.
How could he even begin to understand what it had been like for her to emerge from the emotional desert of her loneliness, her sense of inadequacy? Paul was interested in her. He listened to her, encouraged her, supported her. He cared about her in a way a man like Nik Andreakis could never care. She would not let that go, she swore to herself, not her one chance in life to love and be loved.
Nik could find a dozen women to satisfy his wifely requirements. Looks, physical appeal, the ability to be a good hostess and no doubt a commensurate ability to turn a blind eye when her husband strayed into other beds—just one of those male things, you know, something no mere woman could possibly understand! Well, the tolerant wife wouldn’t be Leah! She had no doubt at all that he would be flooded by a rush of eager applicants, ninety per cent of whom would be far more prepared for the downside of being married to Nik Andreakis than Leah had been at a naéve seventeen!
A migraine headache attacked when she was on the flight back to London. She stumbled sickly through the airport, fell into the waiting limousine and practically crawled into the house. Upstairs in her beautiful bedroom suite, her maid took one look at her pain-racked, perspiring face and rushed to close the curtains and help her down on to the bed. When she was alone, she cried, tears seeping down silently from her lowered eyelids, dripping on to the pillow. She was beyond thought, beyond anything but simple reaction.
The next morning her strength returned and, along with it, her determination. She made plans and acted on them. The only piece of jewellery she possessed which was truly hers had belonged to her maternal grandmother. It was a cobweb-fine diamond necklace and she was extremely attached to it. But it was her only passport to freedom. She had to have cash to live on until she found her feet. And it might be news to Nik, she reflected bitterly, but she was well aware that it would be very tough for her to find those feet.
When she walked out of Nik’s house, she wasn’t taking any of the trappings of the old life with her. No credit cards, no fancy clothes, no jewellery. She intended to make it on her own. She had no right to his money or his financial support. After all, she had never been his wife. And why should she go for a divorce when she could seek an annulment? Her marriage had been born out of blackmail, out of murky secrets and duress. Its dissolution would be as plain and honest as Leah could make it.
She sold her grandmother’s necklace in a jewellers. It hurt, it filled her with guilt but she hoped that if the mother she barely remembered was looking down she would understand her daughter’s desperation.
Back at the house, she started to clear out her wardrobes in search of plainer, more casual clothes—jeans, T-shirts, sweaters, skirts. She would go to a small hotel until she could find cheaper accommodation. And then she was going to find a job, any job...it didn’t matter how menial. As helpless as a newborn baby? No way!
The internal phone rang. It was Petros, informing her that she had a visitor downstairs. A Mr Woods. Paul had actually come to the house? Leah was shaken. When he hadn’t phoned last night she had assumed he was out, and had intended to ring him later when she had finally accomplished her removal from Nik’s house.
Paul was standing in the drawing-room, studying a Picasso drawing, Nik’s one artistic weakness.
‘You shouldn’t have come here!’
‘Is it real?’ He indicated the drawing.
‘Yes.’ She had so much to tell him, she didn’t know where to start, didn’t know what she should tell, what she should keep to herself. There was, she discovered in confusion, an odd vein of loyalty to Nik somewhere inside her. She didn’t like to see Paul in Nik’s house. It just didn’t seem right. And maybe that was why she didn’t feel she could throw herself into Paul’s arms.
‘I was told you weren’t home when I tried to phone you last night,’ He revealed, tight-mouthed.
‘But I was.’ Was Nik responsible for that development? Were even her calls to be screened and censored now? But then she reminded herself that it didn’t matter any more. She was leaving. ‘I’ve told Nik I want a divorce,’ she imparted tautly. ‘And I’m moving out today.’
Paul’s handsome face split into a wide grin. He crossed the carpet in one stride and grabbed her. ‘Darling, that’s fantastic!’
As he attempted to kiss her, Leah angled her head back out of reach, her nervous tension rocketing. ‘Not here...it doesn’t feel right,’ she muttered shakily.
Paul laughed. ‘I hope it feels better in my apartment tonight.’ He kept his arms linked round her.
‘Paul...’ Leah swallowed hard. ‘I’m not moving in with you.’
He frowned and then his brow cleared. ‘It might count against you in the divorce...you’re right. Sensible girl. After the hell he’s put you through, why should you pose as the guilty partner? It might affect your settlement.’
‘I don’t want Nik’s money.’
Paul’s bright blue eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t be silly, Leah. I know you already have your father’s inheritance but—’
Leah tensed. Why was all the talk about money? ‘A history of chasing wealthy women’... Nik’s jibe returned to her. Angrily she thrust it away. ‘We’ll have to talk about that.’
‘I’m only thinking about you. You’re not used to roughing it. I couldn’t bear to feel I was dragging you down.’
‘You wouldn’t be. I’ll be free and we’ll be just like any other couple,’ she reasoned in a rush. ‘You should go now. You shouldn’t be here...’
‘Relax, for God’s sake.’ Paul was wandering round the room, taking careful account of the antique furniture and scrutinising the remainder of the pictures. ‘How much of this stuff is yours?’ he enquired, with a low whistle of admiration.
Leah heard the tone of suppressed excitement, saw the avaricious look in his face and something died inside her. All Paul seemed able to think about was what she would bring with her.
Her deadened eyes fell on her mother’s elegant little writing desk, passed on to her by her father after her wedding, the only piece of furniture in the entire house which belonged to her. Something buzzed at the back of her mind as she looked at it but she was too upset by what she had just seen in Paul to be able to concentrate.
‘None of it’s mine. In fact, I signed a pre-nuptial agreement before my marriage and I don’t get anything,’ she lied shakily. ‘And the problem in Paris with my father’s estate? I’m afraid that money has to go towards settling his debts...’
‘Debts?’ Paul gaped at her. ‘You’re having me on.’
‘No; when I walk out of this house I’ll be penniless.’
‘But you never told me that!’ he condemned, and then fell suddenly silent. His mouth compressed. ‘You shouldn’t move out without giving it very careful thought. God knows, I’m only thinking of what’s best for you—’