She was a force of nature, that one. The Ice Queen, but the way she’d blasted that guy was pure fire. It was impressive. And if she pitched like that to Martin he didn’t stand a chance.
Maybe he’d been too harsh on her. She was clearly passionate about her business, and good for her. If he’d been in tough times, the last thing he’d want to do was waste his precious time on small talk with a stranger.
He collected his phone and checked for messages and emails, frowning when he saw yet another one from his accountant, Mark, about the investigation into Maria’s missing assets. He had better get answers from Martin. This whole thing was getting more and more out of hand.
He rounded the corner of the hallway and paused. He put an ear to the door to see if they were still talking.
Martin’s deep voice was making reassuring noises; Jacquelyn seemed to be silent. He knocked on the door and walked in.
‘OK? All wrapped up?’
He didn’t have time to worry if it wasn’t. He had his own issues to deal with now.
‘Nikos. Great timing.’
Martin was facing Jacquelyn. They were both standing, but now Martin was the one who looked imploringly at him, and Jacquelyn’s eyes were bright with—hope?
‘I was just explaining to Jacquelyn that I’m retiring. She’s looking for an investor and I was trying to think of someone else who’d be a good fit. I don’t know if I mentioned but Ariana Bridal goes back quite a long way. They need to modernise, perhaps? Would that be right, Jacquelyn? And so maybe you or your connections would be a…better fit…?’
Nikos shook his head.
‘I’m not looking to invest in anything, Martin. I’m here to sort a problem.’
He held up his phone.
‘A problem that’s giving me a headache. While we were giving out awards, I’ve been getting more messages.’
‘I won’t take up much of your time, Mr Karellis.’
On a heartbeat Jacquelyn turned and walked towards him. She was breathtaking and he realised he was still standing holding his phone in the air. Quickly he pulled his arm down.
‘Time is what I don’t have. Martin?’ he said, meaning, Martin, what the hell are you thinking?
‘Maybe you could squeeze in five minutes with Jacquelyn before you go?’
‘I promise it won’t take longer than five minutes. Ten at the most. Martin understands. This is a business that has so much to offer. We go back decades and we’ve got great plans. We just need a break.’
Nikos looked at Martin, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if to say wouldn’t hurt.
With a sigh that he didn’t even know he was going to make, he breathed out an, ‘OK.’
‘Five minutes. If we get this sorted,’ he said to Martin. Then turning to Jacquelyn, ‘Wait in the bar and I’ll send someone.’
She nodded and smiled, and as she breezed past she stopped suddenly and grabbed his hand in both of hers. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I guarantee you won’t regret it.’
He nodded gruffly, but the sensation of his coarse hand in her delicate fingers was sweet and soft and he was happy to linger there for a moment. He smiled, and she smiled back. Light seemed to sparkle in her eyes and her features lit up. The face of an angel.
She squeezed his hand and then let go and headed for the door, trailing behind her delicate scent.
He waited until she had gone and then closed the door. ‘What the hell’s going on, Martin?’ he said. ‘You know I’m under pressure here.’
‘You could have said no,’ said Martin, eyebrows raised.
‘Garbage. You set me up. There’s no way anyone could say no to that.’
‘She’s quite something, isn’t she?’
‘Hmmm,’ said Nikos, ‘but you do know that I won’t be giving her anything other than some hard home truths? I’m not getting mixed up in anything. Especially with a woman who just needs to stand in a corner and whistle and she’ll have men lying at her feet.’
‘She’s not like that at all. She’s from a very good family.’
‘That counts for nothing. Anyway, let’s get on with this. What’s going down? Why the year-long battle with your lawyers? Just what are you trying to prove?’
Martin stood with his back to the fireplace of flowers. The top of his greying head was visible in the ornate mirror. His face was cast in a sickly pallor, and he frowned and clasped his fingers. He was clearly agitated.
‘I’m not trying to prove or disprove anything. My back’s against the wall. All I know is that Maria had some investments. She was involved in something just before she died. I think it was illegal.’
Nikos nodded. No shocks so far…
‘I see. Do we have any clue as to what it was?’
He noticed Martin wringing his hands again.
‘Not exactly. She never confided in me—apart from the garbled message she left the night she died. And I think that’s what the police are following up too.’
Nikos turned away. The night she died…almost the worst night of his life.
He’d turned up at his villa in Greece and found his wife topless in the hot tub with his old man. The night her drug-taking and his old man’s drug-selling had combined in one fatal party. The night Nikos had walked away and never looked back, not even when she ran screaming after him.
No, he didn’t ever want to think about that night again, but it didn’t seem he had any choice.
‘That stuff about the drugs?’ he said quietly. ‘We both know she bought them from my dad.’
‘I think it’s more than that. I think he’s the one behind the other investments. At least, that’s what he’s telling me…’
Nikos looked up sharply.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve had some communication from him.’
Suddenly Martin’s sickly pallor and wringing hands made sense. Communicating with Arthur was never pleasant and Nikos had studiously avoided it for nearly twenty years. He blocked calls, emails, and every security guard knew his father’s face on sight. He’d left Australia to get away from him, and he was damned if he was going to let him into his life in any way, shape or form ever again.
‘OK. Out with it. What does he want?’
Martin cleared his throat.
‘He wants forty million dollars. He says that that night they both went fifty-fifty on some investment she’d bought into in Cayman. He transferred five million dollars and then she… Well, you know what happened.’
‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’
Martin turned and leaned his hands on the fireplace.
‘I don’t know what to believe. He says he gave her the money and the company has quadrupled in value. He says she invested it—and he works it out to be forty million that he says he’s owed.’
‘Owed?’
‘By you as her beneficiary. And if you won’t pay up—me.’
‘He’s insane. Did you tell him that she left nothing? Zero? That there is no estate—only trails of debt that lead in a hundred different directions. All I have is what I built myself and, trust me, I don’t have a spare forty million lying around. I’d have noticed if I did. What evidence