Nikos laughed mirthlessly.
‘I wouldn’t give him forty cents, never mind forty million dollars. After what he did?’
He’d had enough of all this. He walked to the door, was there in three strides.
‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ said Martin, still hooked around the fireplace.
Nikos turned. ‘What else is there? He’s a lowlife blackmailing piece of scum and if he thinks this is going to result in anything other than me hating him even more, he’s mistaken.’
He opened the door and then closed it again.
‘And I suggest you get yourself some better company to keep, Martin.’
He pulled the door closed and stood in the plush silent hallway, his heart thundering in his ears and his body primed for fight. He had to get a hold of himself or he’d rip someone’s head off. He had to throw everything he had at it. But the fact that it was his old man who had stoked it all to life wasn’t wasted on him. Everything he touched turned poisonous. Every goddamned time.
There would be some grain of truth in that cock-and-bull story because it was too crazy for there not to be. But he wasn’t leaving it up to chance. He was going to go back to the villa and go through the vault. The one place he’d avoided for years might be the one place he’d find what he was looking for.
He speed-dialled his accountant.
‘Mark,’ he said, ‘as soon as you get this I want you to check out every transfer that went into or out of Maria’s accounts around the time she died. I’m looking for an investment in a company registered in the Cayman Islands. It’s probably something that she’ll have buried so it might be hard to find. That’s all I have for now but I think this could be what’s behind the investigation and the letters from Martin Lopez’s solicitors.’
He clicked off the phone as a waiter walked past with a tray of drinks. Parties were still kicking off but he was in no mood to party. What he needed now was silence. And sleep.
He was jet-lagged and pumped with adrenalin, and there wasn’t enough whisky in the whole place to knock him under. He needed to stand in a hot shower and hit the sack.
He pushed open the door of his suite, stepping out of his trousers, removing his jacket, heaving at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that even now still shook with rage.
In the shower he stood, water from all angles pummelling his back and legs and head. He had to cool it. Be cool. Rein it in, Nikos. Calm it.
He thought of his mother lying in her bed in the nursing home. He thought of her sweet smile in the photograph of them at the beach, and then he thought of the blank, unseeing eyes that had looked at him the day before.
Every step he took was for her. To make her proud, to make all her own suffering worthwhile. He wasn’t going to go under because of his father. He wasn’t going to let Arthur ruin his reputation or his fortune. He was going to fight back.
He turned off the jets of water and dried himself. There was a noise outside. He opened the bathroom door a crack and listened. Someone was battering on the door. Martin?
He walked through the room, kicking up his suit trousers and catching them in his right hand as he opened the door with his left.
But it wasn’t Martin. It was the blonde in the blue dress.
‘Hi,’ he said, confused. Then he slapped his forehead. ‘Damn. Sorry. You’ve been waiting in the bar to see me. I said I’d send for you.’
Her eyes opened like starbursts, falling from his face to his chest and the towel knotted at his hips.
‘Sorry, I was taking a shower.’
She stared at her feet, then down the hall, then at her feet. ‘I am so sorry. I really did not mean to disturb you. It was getting so late… I’ll go back and wait downstairs.’
‘What time is it?’ he said, trying to bury his impatience. This he could do without.
‘Um…’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. My phone ran out of power.’
‘And I clearly don’t have a watch on,’ he said with a cynical chuckle.
She blushed furiously. She was very, very pretty when she blushed. She was very pretty, full stop. He could be in the mood to spend some time with her. That would be better than whisky at taking the edge off, for sure.
‘Come in. I’ll get some clothes on. We can chat now.’
He threw the door back and walked inside, tossing the trousers over a chair in the passing.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not.’
He turned around, couldn’t hide his surprise, but she was staring at her feet, her hands clasped in front of her.
‘Much as I want to have a meeting with you, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to come in while you’re undressed.’
He walked to the wardrobe and helped himself to a large white fluffy bathrobe, tied it at his waist.
‘Suit yourself,’ he said.
She looked up. Further along the hallway, noise bubbled out as a door opened. After-parties were probably taking place all over the hotel and she was too prudish to step over the threshold of his room?
‘I hope you understand,’ she said, taking another step back from the doorway. ‘I want to talk about my business—that’s all.’
He almost laughed out loud but when her face didn’t break into a smile, he realised she was completely serious. How about that? She’d secured a meeting with him, but only on her terms. And those terms were…refreshing.
‘Well, that’s fine by me—but I won’t be around for much longer if you still want that five minutes.’
‘Maybe I could come by tomorrow morning before you leave?’
That would be a no, he thought.
With his flight scheduled for ten thirty, he’d be out of here an hour earlier, and the thought of cramming anything else into his head right now was not appealing at all.
But she looked so young, so full of hope. Like a flower opening its petals at the first burst of sunshine. He didn’t really want to crush her, did he?
He nodded.
‘OK. Come for breakfast. Nine.’
The sweet joy that spread across her face was beautiful, like a child’s, and it was amazing how good that made him feel—for a second.
‘Thank you so much. I promise not to waste your time.’
‘We’ll see,’ he said.
But as he put his hand on the door and began to close it, his phone lit up. Mark. More bad news.
A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, anxiety and a heatwave. What a killer combo. But at least she had a reason, and a fast-approaching deadline.
Jacquelyn flew around the studio tidying up the mess she’d made over the previous four hours. She was exhausted but she was getting ready to meet Nikos Karellis and for the first time in ages she felt hopeful, optimistic—happy?
It wasn’t what she’d set out to do, but it was even better than finance from Martin Lopez. This was a chance with House, for goodness’ sake! It was the retail sensation that had expanded when everyone else was shutting up shop and disappearing down online rabbit holes.
Just those four brief meetings with Nikos Karellis had lit something up inside her, ignited some hunger that she’d