Sophie Weston - The Millionaire Affair

She dived into the small supermarket and emerged with an unwieldy bag containing the Sunday papers, a litre of milk, a crusty baguette that she did not want but hadn’t been able to resist the smell of, and a pineapple—luxurious but low on calories. In fact the smell of new bread had cheered her up so much that it put a bounce in her step. She swung out of the door so energetically that she bumped into someone.

‘Oh, I’m sorry—’ she began, genuinely contrite. And then saw who it was.

Her smile died. ‘What are you doing here?’

Nikolai did not pretend. ‘Following you.’

‘Following—’ Even though it was what she’d suspected, Lisa was lost for words.

‘I wanted to talk to you,’ he said, as if that was justification enough.

‘You’ve talked,’ Lisa said shortly.

Her carrier bag began to tip. Nikolai caught the wavering baguette.

‘Rather too aerodynamic, these things, aren’t they?’ he said pleasantly enough.

Then, to Lisa’s outraged astonishment, he broke the end of the crust off and ate it.

‘Not bad,’ he said, with the air of a connoisseur.

Lisa clutched her purchases to her breast before he could pillage any more.

‘And you’re an expert, I suppose?’ she said scathingly.

Nikolai gave her a wicked grin. ‘Pretty practised, yes.’

The grin was alarmingly attractive. It set off all sorts of warning bells in Lisa’s head. She didn’t want to be attracted to any man. In her experience it was a distraction at best, at worst a one way ticket to misery. And this man was arrogant and had already made her feel as much a fool as she had done in years.

So she hugged her lumpy package protectively and jerked her head in the direction of the shop’s interior.

‘Well, they’re on sale in there. Help yourself.’

She made to pass him. Nikolai did not move.

‘I told you. I want to talk to you.’

‘Great,’ said Lisa bristling. ‘Does it matter what I want?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ he said. He didn’t sound in the least apologetic.

He hoisted the carrier out of her arms.

‘Come along. I have a car and we’re getting wet.’

Lisa stood stock-still. ‘Give me back my shopping,’ she said in a dangerously quiet voice.

‘Don’t be difficult,’ Nikolai said with odious patience.

Still quietly, Lisa said, ‘Then don’t challenge me.’

She held out her hand for the bag. He held onto it.

‘You have to admit you’d be more comfortable in my car. We’ll talk and then I’ll drive you home.’

Her expression was very steady. Too steady, her colleagues would have told him. Nikolai did not recognise the danger signals.

‘I don’t do what I’m told,’ she said. ‘And I warn you, I fight dirty.’

‘Who’s fighting? Nikolai said softly.

He gave her his most charming smile. The one that made hostesses forgive him for arriving late and had girls lure him home for coffee after an evening together. On Lisa it had no effect at all.

She stood looking at him for an appraising moment. Then she put her head back and screamed at the top of powerful lungs. It startled Nikolai so much that he dropped the unwieldy bag. And it brought an interested audience out onto the pavement to join them.

Lisa stopped screaming. She gathered up the shopping.

‘Thank you,’ she said composedly.

She turned her back and walked away from him. It felt good. So good, in fact, that she didn’t bother to put up the umbrella. Instead she lifted her face to the rain and let it cascade off her cold skin. She even broke into a little run of pleasure.

She was halfway home when the powerful car caught up with her. It cruised to a halt on the wrong side of the road, beside a line of parked cars. Nikolai opened the window and called across to her.

‘Round one to you,’ he said. ‘I still need to talk to you.’

Lisa sent him a look of dislike. She steamed on, not saying anything. The shopping bag bumped against her legs. The baguette had snapped, of course. It hung over the edge of the bag at a crazy angle, smeared with dirt from where it had hit the wet pavement.

Nikolai called after her temptingly, ‘I’ve got you a replacement loaf.’

Lisa ignored him.

He kept the car cruising in second gear, matching her pace. Lisa looked at him with irritation.

‘In this country we drive on the left.’

Nikolai chuckled. ‘In London, you drive where you can get through. Anyone will be able to pass me,’ he said with confidence. ‘But if you got in the car I could go back to driving on the legal side of the road.’

She shrugged, still marching. ‘Break the law if you like. I don’t care.’

‘That’s not a very responsible attitude,’ said Nikolai reprovingly. He was beginning to enjoy himself.

Lisa fixed her eyes straight ahead. ‘I’m not responsible for anyone but myself. You want to behave like a nutter—your choice.’

‘It’s raining. The car is warm and dry,’ he said temptingly.

Lisa did not abate her pace. ‘My mother always told me never to get into cars with strange men.’

‘But, as we have already established, you are more than able to take care of yourself,’ Nikolai said ruefully. ‘Besides, I’m not a stranger. I’m Tatiana’s nephew.’

That brought Lisa up short. She did stop then. In disbelief, she turned to face the car. Nikolai brought it gently to a halt and sat returning her stare.

‘The jungle warrior?’

Suddenly Nikolai was not enjoying himself quite so much. A faint look of annoyance crossed the handsome face.

‘I do go on expeditions to the jungle, yes.’

‘Beard?’ said Lisa gropingly. ‘Camouflage trousers?’

‘Not in London,’ said Nikolai stiffly.

The annoyance turned to downright affront. The terrible girl had started to laugh.

It was not a quiet laugh. She flung back her head and let out a full-throated peal of delight. To a wincing Nikolai, the sound seemed to bounce between the Palladian terraces with the resonance of a kettle drum.

‘Are you always this noisy?’ he said, irritated.

‘Yup,’ said Lisa without apology.

Nikolai looked at her with frustration. It had started to rain heavily again. He set the windscreen wipers going.

Now that the rainbow spikes had gone, he saw that she was a blonde. The rain was plastering her hair to her head. Her head, he noticed with a little shock of pleasure, was a very elegant shape.

He had not thought of elegance in relation to this girl before. She had called herself a dirty fighter, and a street fighter was exactly how she had looked when she’d opened the door this morning. Now, suddenly, he was seeing deeper: long throat, porcelain skin, deep-set wide open eyes with gently curling lashes. Her eyelashes, he saw with an odd clutch in his stomach, were long enough for the raindrops to gather on. He wanted to lift the drops off with his fingertip.

It startled him. It also made him angry. This was not a girl he wanted to be attracted to. She was too rude and too loud and he had severe doubts about the honesty of her dealings with his aunt. Yet here he was, thinking about her as if he wanted to take her to bed. He was furious with himself. It translated into fury with her.

‘Get in,’ he said. It was an order.

Lisa jumped. Her laughter died. She raised her chin belligerently.

‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ she flashed.

But Nikolai had had enough. ‘Then stop playing games. You’re no helpless innocent. And you don’t think I’m any threat to you. For God’s sake be sensible and get out of the rain.’

Slightly to her own surprise, Lisa did.

Nikolai set the car in motion. ‘Now,’ he said. ‘Let’s start again. Who are you?’