Sophie Weston - The Millionaire Affair

Lisa seemed oblivious. ‘You want to see me? You’re seeing me,’ she pointed out. ‘So—?’

Nikolai let his eyes drift down. ‘I am indeed,’ he agreed, in suave appreciation.

Lisa was used to being teased. You did not survive in the dealing room if you let it bother you. Normally she ignored it. Now, after a quick look down, she clutched the coat together more securely over her breasts.

‘What do you want?’ she yelled, losing patience.

‘I want to see the lady who owns this place,’ he said more sharply.

Now that he’d had time to reflect on more than that distracting cleavage, Nikolai’s amusement was abating abruptly. Where was Tatiana? Why did this gamine not mention her? Could it be that Pauli was right and his aunt had gone mad and signed over her home to some unknown waif off the street? Nikolai had been certain his grandfather was panicking unnecessarily. Now, for the first time, he wasn’t sure.

Lisa saw the suspicion darken his eyes. It made him look like a tiger, watchful and dangerous. It contrasted oddly with his beautifully cut City suit. Somehow it just made him seem all the more powerful. And who the hell wore suits on a Sunday, anyway?

Then she remembered: Rob had warned her that Sam would make sure the bank checked up on the suitability of her new address. Surely he had just been winding her up? Surely it couldn’t be true? But, with his suit and tie on a Sunday morning, what else did this man resemble but a banker at work? In fact, now she looked, she saw he even had a briefcase.

She said defiantly, ‘I live here. Lisa Romaine, as it no doubt says in your dossier. Do you want a signature, or will you now go away and leave me in peace?’

The tiger’s eyes narrowed to slits.

‘And what has happened to Madame Lepatkina?’

Whatever Lisa had expected it was not that. In the act of closing the door, she hesitated.

‘Tatiana?’ she said, bewildered. How did her employers know about Tatiana?

‘Well, at least you admit she exists,’ the man said grimly.

He shouldered his way past her into the hall and shut the door behind him. In the narrow hall he seemed even taller. She wished she were wearing heels. Or shoes. Or anything. She huddled the coat round her.

Nikolai saw her sudden uncertainty and pressed home his advantage.

‘Now, let’s start again. Where is Tatiana?’

Lisa shrugged. Then remembered and grabbed the coat tight again.

‘I haven’t a clue. Why didn’t you try knocking?’

He was disconcerted. ‘There is only one bell,’ he said, after a tiny pause.

‘I know,’ she said nastily. ‘Mine. If you want to talk to Tatiana you use the knocker. Big black thing? Gargoyle’s face? You can’t miss it.’

She made to open the door on him again, but one look at him barring the way changed her mind. In spite of the suit he gave the impression of being solidly muscled. She frowned, swung round and thumped on Tatiana’s door. There was no answer.

Lisa looked at her big Mickey Mouse watch. ‘I suppose she might have gone shopping,’ she said uncertainly.

‘On a Sunday?’

She looked at him with dislike. ‘This is cosmopolitan Notting Hill. You can shop any day you like.’

‘And any time you like as well,’ he pointed out. ‘So why would Tatiana go shopping at the exact hour she knew I was coming to see her?’

Lisa seized the opportunity to look him up and down, in just the same way as he had done.

‘You might just have answered your own question,’ she drawled with deliberate insolence.

He was clearly disconcerted. Not used to people being less than delighted to see him. Lisa thought sourly. The thought rang a faint bell in her head.

She didn’t have time to pursue it. The man was knocking at the door to Tatiana’s part of the house. There was no answer. He looked back at Lisa, all the way down that haughty nose.

‘Do you have a key to Tatiana’s place?’

‘No,’ said Lisa.

His mouth tightened. He looked very determined. The inner bell rang louder.

She said grudgingly, ‘I could go up through the garden and see if she’s there.’

He nodded. ‘Yes, that’s an idea. All right.’

“‘Thank you very much, Miss Romaine”,’ Lisa muttered.

He did not appear to hear.

Lisa thumped her way bad-temperedly down the stairs. She was sure nothing had happened to Tatiana. She had met her in the hall last night, off to attend a ballet recital, looking stupendously glamorous and about half her age. She had probably just gone out to avoid this pestilential stranger. What was more, Lisa didn’t blame her.

She turned round to shout as much up to him, and found he was close on her heels.

‘Oh,’ she exclaimed, swaying backwards in shock.

He caught the lapels of her coat and steadied her.

And that was another shock. The backs of his fingers brushed against the softness of her upper breasts. It was only a touch, but it felt as if he had branded her. Lisa heard her own intake of breath. In the narrow space of the staircase it sounded as loud as a warning siren.

‘Whoa,’ she said, shaken.

Nikolai was shaken too. But his control was better than hers. And his recovery time was not affected by a series of late nights.

‘Are you all right?’ he said, his expression enigmatic.

‘You startled me,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t expect you to come with me.’

‘I could hardly leave you to climb into Tatiana’s on your own.’

‘Climb in?’ said Lisa, startled.

‘If necessary.’

She glared at him for a frustrated moment. Then shrugged and led the way downstairs.

Her small kitchen diner stretched the width of the house. Tall French windows gave on to the garden. Lisa waved a hand at them.

‘Help yourself. Security key’s on the table. I’ll get some clothes on.’

He acknowledged that with the merest flicker of the opaque brown eyes. But Lisa could sense his amusement as if he had laughed out loud. Suddenly she realised what it must be like to blush. She whisked into her bedroom and closed the door between them with a decisive bang.

She returned in three minutes, in grubby jeans and a cropped shirt. She had stuffed her feet into deck shoes and tied a scarf round her hair, but she hadn’t done anything about the ravages of last night’s make-up. To tell the truth, Lisa had forgotten it. But to the man awaiting her it looked like a deliberate statement that she didn’t care how he saw her.

Once again he felt that unexpected, unwanted kick of interest. Crazy, he told himself.

‘Well?’ said Lisa.

He had opened her French windows. An ironwork spiral staircase went up from the garden to Tatiana’s balcony. There was a tray of seedlings and a watering can on the stair. He indicated them with a gesture.

‘Well, if she’s in the garden, of course she didn’t hear us,’ said Lisa, disgusted. She thought about what she had just said. She didn’t like the way she had coupled them together like that. ‘You,’ she corrected herself. ‘Of course she didn’t hear you.’ She raised her voice to the volume that could cut through the buzz of a hundred-man dealing room. ‘Tatiana! Where are you?’

Nikolai winced. ‘Wouldn’t it be easier to go and look? It is Sunday morning, after all. Some people are probably still sleeping. Or—’

Or in bed making love. He did not say it. But Lisa’s eyes flew to his in shocked and instant comprehension.

And this time she did blush. She couldn’t help it. Disbelieving, she pressed her hands to her face and felt the heat there. She could never remember blushing in her life before.

And the man laughed. He looked her up and down with those cat’s eyes, suddenly lazily appreciative, and he laughed.