Penniless and Purchased (3 page)

‘Thank you,’ she husked, and suddenly she was too shy to look at him any more.

She all but scurried out of the room. As she gained the landing, she realised her heart was thudding. Forgetting her father’s suggestion to go and see the housekeeper, instead Sophie ran upstairs, panting at little by the time she was up in her attic quarters. She threw herself bouncingly down on the bed, feeling her heart give a little thrill.

Nikos Kazandros. His name flared in her brain, and she said it out loud, just to hear the syllables roll around in all their exotic foreignness. What on earth was he doing here? When her father invited business colleagues and associates they were all middle-aged men and dead boring. But this man—oh, wow! He could be a film star, not a businessman.

She gave an exuberant little laugh. She didn’t care what he was—he was here, in the house, and in just a little while she’d be seeing him again.

She leapt to her feet, horror-struck. What time was it? She and her father usually dined at eight, so how much time did that leave her? She seized her bedside clock and gave an anguished cry. Could she be ready in time?

Not ready for dinner. Ready for Nikos Kazandros.

Nikos Kazandros, Nikos Kazandros…

The syllables went round and round in her head while she dived into the bathroom and the shower, dragging off her clothes. She had some serious,
serious
ablutions to make!

Nikos was listening to Edward Granton, but his attention was not on what the older man was saying. He knew what it would be about, anyway, and he knew exactly what to expect, and exactly what to do.

But what he had
not
expected was what had happened ten minutes ago in the drawing room.

Thee mou
, the girl was a peach! The clearest, most delicately scented honey possible. Even now, with time to compose himself, he could still feel the resonance of the moment the doors had flung open and she’d sailed in. He’d had a moment’s vision of flying golden locks, a swirl of colour around her hips and legs, and then every last gram of his focus had gone to her face. He’d recognised it instantly—the girl he’d seen in his rearview mirror, framed like a picture.

An exquisite picture. Stopping him in his tracks.

But she was young. Too young. She didn’t look more than eighteen, and Edward Granton had said she was a student. Pity. Pity she was so young. Pity she was his host’s daughter. Pity that he was here on business, not pleasure.

Nikos turned his attention back fully on Edward Granton and the figures the older man was presenting, the argument he was making, the proposal he was constructing. Speaking convincingly, persuasively, fluently—and completely failing, all the same, to conceal the fact that he was hovering on the brink of financial ruin. The complete collapse of Granton plc.

Would Kazandros Corp throw Granton the lifeline he was desperate for? Maybe. There was value in the company, no doubt about that, but it was haemorrhaging cash. Granton had
made some rash calls, and then had done what so many men under pressure went on to do—made even rasher ones, trying to claw back safety. But safety was gone. Granton was running out of options, running out of room to manoeuvre. Running out, worst of all, of time. In just under a month he’d have to make a hefty payment due on a loan, and right now his cashflow couldn’t meet it. After that, things were just going to get worse. Edward Granton could start to cash in assets, to try and get back on an even keel, but he would be risking not just failing to make a profit on his original investment but taking a loss, as well.

No, all that could keep Granton plc—and Granton himself—afloat was a white knight.

Was Kazandros Corp going to be that white knight? He would know soon enough, thought Nikos. But it would be on
his
terms, not Edward Granton’s.

This was his baby. His father had handed it to him, had trusted him to make the right call, the one that would pay off in the long term. If the figures performed on the bottom line it might just be a shrewd investment, giving Kazandros Corp a good foothold in the London commercial property market—but even if the figures stacked, there was still substantial risk.

Definitely time to crunch the numbers. Eyes focussed entirely on the printouts Edward Granton was putting in front of him, Nikos blanked out the rest of the world.

Including the peach of a girl who was Edward Granton’s too-young daughter.

Sophie studied her reflection critically. More critically than she’d done since—oh, she couldn’t remember when! It was probably when she’d started going out with Joel, but that had been over a year ago, and he was long gone. It was funny, she
thought now, examining whether her eye make-up was exactly even on both sides, that she’d ever been keen on Joel. Oh, he had obvious charms—blond, good-looking, popular…

But he was just a boy.
She stilled a moment, eyes widening unconsciously as she stared at herself.

Nikos Kazandros wasn’t a boy. Yet again his image formed in her head. It seemed to have imprinted itself on her instantly, indelibly, and every time she called it up she felt her pulse give a little flurry. It was a gorgeous feeling. It made her feel a funny mix of excited and shivery, as well. She’d never felt like that about Joel, that was for sure! More a sort of satisfaction that he’d chosen
her
to go out with instead of another girl, Hayley. Her eyes darkened briefly. Not that he hadn’t gone straight out with Hayley after she and he had split…

She tightened her mouth. Yes, well, Hayley had made it clear she was more than eager to give Joel what he wanted from his girlfriends! What he’d wanted from her, too, but hadn’t got. Hence the split.

Her mouth pressed tighter. No way would she ever have dreamt of wasting the occasion on Joel who, with hindsight, had obviously only gone out with her to try and get her into bed. Nothing special—just one more conquest for him.

Well, it’s not going to be like that! It’s going to be something really, really special—someone really, really special!

Without volition, the imprint of her father’s business guest formed in her head again. Immediately she blinked, telling herself it was to test her mascara was not running. But she knew it was to counter the sudden quiver that ran through her as she put the two thoughts together.

Someone special.

And Nikos Kazandros.

She pulled back from the mirror. No—that was absurd!
She’d only just set eyes on the man, spent a bare few minutes in his company. And now here she was thinking—

She felt herself colour, and stood up from her dressing stool. She was being ridiculous. She took a step backwards, moving to inspect her whole appearance, focussing only on that.

She had, she knew, pulled out all the stops.

But for Nikos Kazandros a woman would have to!

With looks like his—not to mention the flash car and his obviously wealthy background!—Nikos Kazandros wouldn’t even have to crook his little finger to get girls flocking around him! They’d all be as breathless as she’d been.

Again she felt her heart-rate quicken, felt her lungs take in a swift, shallow breath. Felt that gorgeous little shivery feeling flutter through her. Excitement caught at her. She took one last look at her reflection. If she couldn’t make Nikos Kazandros look twice at her now, she never would!

What if he does?
The voice sounded in her head. Yes, Nikos Kazandros was gorgeous—two hundred percent, twenty-two carat gorgeous—but he was their dinner guest, that was all.

Then you’d better make the most of him, hadn’t you?
The voice sounded again, but it was a different one this time. One that made her glance at the slim gold watch around her wrist, and then, flicking her hair back off her shoulders, trot to the door and set off downstairs.

She could hear her father’s voice from the drawing room. The doors were open this time, and yet for a moment, breath catching, she paused in the threshold. She didn’t do it deliberately. It was because she was suddenly breathless.

Nervous.

Maybe he’s not as gorgeous as I thought. Maybe when I see him again I’ll be disappointed. Think his nose too big, his eyes too close-set. See flaws in him. Change my mind over him.

But that wasn’t the only reason she was nervous, she knew. There was another reason—one to do with a sudden deep sense that she was standing on the threshold of something significant.

Deliberately, quite deliberately as she walked into the room, she did not do what every instinct was trying to compel her to do and let her eyes go to the tall, dark figure standing across the room. She could see him at the periphery of her vision, but she wouldn’t let her eyes fly to him.

Her father was greeting her warmly. Almost as if he were relieved at her arrival. The disquieting thought distracted her. She went up and kissed him on the cheek, then turned to their guest.

‘Mr Kazandros.’ She smiled.

For a moment he didn’t answer her smile. For a moment his face was expressionless. Sophie found herself wondering at it. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, he was greeting her in return.

‘Miss Granton.’ He gave a small bow of his head, very foreign. It reminded her of Vienna, where everyone had seemed so formal all the time. She gave a light laugh.

‘Oh, please, do call me Sophie. Miss Granton makes me sound like someone in Jane Austen! Probably a maiden aunt.’

Something moved in his eyes. ‘Unlikely,’ he said, his voice very dry.

But she wasn’t paying a great deal of attention. As she’d let her gaze go to him, to greet him, exhilaration had swept through her. She hadn’t been imagining it! He really was as drop-dead, gulpingly gorgeous as she’d first thought! How could she even have thought there might be any flaws? There were none—absolutely none! He really, really was just shiveringly fantastic!

And he definitely was no boy. This was a man—a man who moved through the world, doing business, driving incredible cars, sophisticated, assured, skilled, experienced.

Experienced.

The word repeated itself in her head. With connotations that made her breath tighter. She found her eyes moving to his mouth.

Sculpted, mobile.

Experienced.

She felt heat beat up in her throat.
He’d know how to kiss fantastically…

Her father was saying something, and she forced herself to listen.

‘Your usual orange juice, pet?’

He was crossing over to the drinks cabinet against the other wall. She took a little breath.

‘Oh, I think I’ll have a Bellini tonight, please, Daddy.’ Immediately she wished she hadn’t said ‘Daddy’ like that.

It makes me sound like a little girl.

She didn’t look at Nikos Kazandros in case she saw the thought in his eyes. She didn’t want him to think of her as a little girl.

Her father paused by the cabinet. ‘Sophie, pet, there’s no champagne open. I don’t want to waste a bottle on a single drink. Have something else.’

She was momentarily stymied. Then she recovered. She looked back at Nikos Kazandros. He had that veiled look on his face again.

‘What are you drinking, Mr Kazandros?’ she asked, eyeing his shallow glass, which he was holding with long, squaretipped fingers. Her voice had a breathless touch to it.

She could see the switch being thrown again. The veiled look was gone.

‘Nikos,’ he said softly, as if he were speaking only to her. ‘If I am to call you Sophie.’ A smile, tantalisingly brief, as was the quiver that it engendered in her, hovered at the corner
of one mouth. ‘And I am having a martini—very dry. It is an…acquired taste.’

‘Sophie, you’d hate it, believe me,’ said her father from the drinks cabinet.

‘A sweet martini can be very palatable,’ suggested Nikos.

She smiled. ‘Perfect!’ she said. ‘There you go, Daddy. A sweet martini for me, please!’

Oh, damn, she’d said ‘Daddy’ again, and again her gaze flicked to Nikos Kazandros—no,
Nikos
, she amended, and felt a little thrill, as if of triumph—to see whether he thought her childish. But the veiled look was back on his face. She wondered at it, but at the same time realised she was glad of it, too, because it seemed to give her the opportunity to look at him, as she wanted to, without actually falling headfirst into his gaze, because his eyes were not quite meeting hers.

But they were on her face, though. And more than her face.

They’d flicked downwards, she could see—only for an instant, but it was enough. Enough to tell her, again with a little thrill of triumph, that she had not pulled out all the stops in vain.

The peach-coloured cocktail dress she wore was one of her very favourites. There was something about the colour that just absolutely suited her skin tone and her hair. The material was so light it skimmed her body, but outlined it, as well. It wasn’t at all overtly revealing—but somehow it seemed to indicate an awful lot. The hem was a little way above her knees, yet it lengthened the line of her legs incredibly. The bodice was not tight, but she knew it gave her a very flattering bust, and made her waist look even more slender than it was.

It had been incredibly expensive, even for her budget, but because she loved it so she got good value from it, wearing it over and over again.

But never so gratefully as now.

Now, as Nikos Kazandros’s experienced eyes flicked over her—
how many women had he looked over to judge whether they were good enough to interest him?
—she knew, with every ingrained feminine instinct, that what he saw he liked.

Liked a lot.

Her lips parted, and her smile was one of mingled gladness—and relief.

I want him to like me.

He was a world away from her. Not just because she was still a student, and he was a man old enough to be doing business with her father, but because, for all her more-than-comfortable existence, it was obvious just from looking at him that Nikos Kazandros’s stalking ground was the kind of glamorous watering holes that littered the Mediterranean and the Caribbean, the Alps and the Indian Ocean islands. Fashionable clubs in fashionable cities, with the kind of exclusive membership that filtered out anyone not sufficiently rich, sufficiently sophisticated. The world of serious money and serious spending. That was the world Nikos Kazandros belonged to.