Robyn Donald - Mistresses - Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled with Rubies

Tortured by those recurring thoughts, Angie raised a hand and rubbed at her brow, trying to relieve the ache. She was almost beginning to believe that she’d played a part in Tiffany’s death—by allowing her sister to continue down the path of self-destruction. By not trying to keep her away from men like Nikos Kyriacou.

‘Did you read the report?’ Cold and relentless, his voice continued to torment her and she turned, understanding the full meaning of his question without needing elaboration.

‘If you’re asking me whether I knew she was drunk, then the answer is yes,’ she said quietly, noting the flash of surprise in his eyes. ‘What? Did you think I didn’t know? Or did you think I’d deny that knowledge?’

‘Since you evidently hold me responsible for the accident despite the fact that the report completely absolved my family of blame or responsibility, I thought the facts might have escaped you.’

She stared at him in disbelief. ‘The facts are that Tiffany was young, Mr Kyriacou. She celebrated her eighteenth birthday just two months before she started working in one of your hotels. Most eighteen-year-olds have been drunk at some point or another; it’s part of the passage into adulthood.’

‘Have you, Dr Littlewood?’

She frowned. ‘I fail to see the relevance of that question.’

‘Really?’ He gave a faint smile, so maddeningly calm and detached that she wondered for a moment if he was a lawyer by training. He seemed to be trying to trap her into saying something that would absolve him of responsibility.

‘If you’re suggesting that Tiffany’s slightly inebriated state in any way exonerates you of blame then I’m afraid I don’t see it that way. I find your complete indifference nothing short of insulting given the circumstances. You were the reason she drank that night! It was all your fault!’

Why had she always avoided confrontation in the past? It was actually remarkably liberating being able to say exactly what she thought.

Apparently unmoved by her accusations, Nikos raised a dark eyebrow in sardonic appraisal. ‘You think I held the bottle to her lips?’

‘I think you might as well have done. In normal circumstances you and my sister would never have crossed paths but unfortunately fate threw you together.’

‘Fate?’ The heavy sarcasm in his voice goaded her still further. She didn’t know what he was implying but it was clearly something derogatory.

‘My sister was a waitress! She had a two-year contract with your hotel! Her only role at jet-set parties was pouring champagne into the glasses of people like you!’ Her voice echoed round the stone walls of the museum and she took a deep breath and forced herself to lower her voice. There had already been more than enough gossip surrounding her family. She didn’t need more. ‘Tiffany was young and starry eyed and you took advantage of that. You were totally out of her league, Mr Kyriacou, and you should have recognised that even if she didn’t. You should have stuck to models and actresses and other women who understand the rules of the games you choose to play. But you just couldn’t resist my sister, could you?’ Her voice rang with contempt. ‘You took advantage of her innocence and broke her heart.’

There was a long, tense silence. A silence during which he studied her face with a disturbing degree of concentration. ‘It is not my wish to defame your sister’s character,’ he breathed, ‘but clearly we have a significantly different interpretation of events and also of your sister’s personality.’

‘Of course we have! How else would you be able to live comfortably with your conscience? You’ve clearly managed to persuade yourself that you were totally without blame. But the truth is that Tiffany had never even had a proper boyfriend until she went to Greece and yet you—’ She broke off, hot colour flooding her cheeks and he tilted his proud, handsome head in question.

‘—and yet I?’ His prompt was lethally soft. ‘Please don’t hold back on my account, Dr Littlewood. Please enlighten me as to my behaviour towards your innocent sister. I confess I’m fascinated by your alternative view on the world. Clearly you’ve spent a significant proportion of your life closeted in the depths of museums and universities.’

Why, she wondered in silent amazement, did women find him so attractive? Was it the air of danger? The sense of menace? It was like confronting a tiger with sheathed claws, knowing that it would take little for him to display his deadly power.

True, he was extraordinarily handsome but he had an icy, remote quality that made her shiver.

Angie thought of all the things that her mother had said about Nikos Kyriacou. Thought of the file of pictures she’d kept on the man. The fact that her mother had been proud of her sister’s new romantic attachment had filled Angie with horror and frustration.

‘The man is at least fifteen years older than her,’ she’d pointed out, but her mother had merely shrugged dismissively.

‘He’s loaded, Angie, not to mention influential. Whatever happens now, she’s made. Being with him will give her access to circles that she never would have had a chance of entering if she hadn’t been on his arm. They say he has billions—that he’s absolutely brilliant at business. So clever. He’s dated supermodels and actresses, but never for more than a few weeks at a time because apparently he has no intention of ever marrying. And yet he’s been seeing our Tiffany for at least six weeks! It’s obviously serious. Can you believe that?’

She’d had great trouble believing it. ‘Why would a man like Nikos Kyriacou be interested in Tiffany?’ If he were truly as clever as rumour suggested, then Tiffany, whose conversational skills didn’t extend beyond fashion and hairstyles, would surely have bored him in minutes. She’d loved her sister, but love hadn’t blinded her to the truth.

Her mother had bristled at the question. ‘Tiffany is extremely pretty,’ she’d said defensively, ‘and a traditional Greek male values beauty in a woman, not brains. I don’t expect you to understand because your idea of a good night is having your nose stuck in some big fat book with long words in a foreign language, but when a man comes home from a hard day making millions he’s hoping for something a little more stimulating than conversation. Not that you’d know anything about that.’

Angie had given a murmur of derision, wondering why it was that brilliant men turned into idiots when confronted by a pretty face. She’d seen it with her father. Clearly Nikos Kyriacou suffered from the same lack of restraint when it came to women. Her mother was right. It was something that she didn’t understand and never would.

Looking at him now, there was no doubt in her mind where the responsibility for her sister’s death lay. ‘Tiffany was very innocent. At the very worst she was perhaps a little foolish.’

‘You think so?’

She thought she detected a dangerous flash of fire in his dark eyes but it vanished in an instant and he appeared as controlled as ever. Unlike her. She felt the last strands of control slipping from her grasp. Telling herself that it was impossible to appeal to the conscience of a man who clearly didn’t possess one, Angie launched a powerful defence of her sister.

‘You’re supposed to be a sophisticated man of the world. I can’t believe you couldn’t see what was beneath the blonde hair and make-up. I can’t believe you didn’t know the truth about her.’

‘I knew all about her,’ he said flatly, a tiny muscle flickering in his lean cheek, ‘but I’m starting to wonder whether you did.’

‘I know my sister always dressed and acted in a way that suggested that she was far older than she actually was. But she was a child. She didn’t play by your rules and you must have known that! You should never have made false promises.’