Redeemed By Her Innocence (HQR Presents) Read online

  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 does he have for any of this?’

  Martin shrugged.

  ‘That’s all I know. But I’m guessing you’ll find out one way or another.’

  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.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  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 never possessed before. Something had rubbed off and made her want to be part of that world. It was as if he’d sprinkled some of his magic dust and she’d breathed it in, and from the moment she’d closed the door to his suite, she’d been unable to get him out of her mind.

  Who are you trying to kid? she thought fleetingly. You saw him nearly naked and you’re as hooked as every other woman. The only difference is that you were afraid to step through the doors to see where it might lead. But you could have...

  No. This drive to get it right had nothing to do with any attraction to him as a man. She would never dream of having a business meeting in his suite. This was all about Ariana. It was so important to get it right!

  And she would. She’d tossed and turned for a couple of hours, got up at three and then started work. By six she had completely reworked the strategy. She’d created four personas of Ariana Bridal clients. She’d sketched out a cost-benefit analysis, which presupposed cash injection from House. And then she’d gone the extra mile and thrown in some figures based on the concession opportunities that she’d gain linked to the brand. It was all pure speculation and she could be way, way off, but it showed imagination. It showed that she’d done some homework at least.

  So she still hadn’t fixed the designs. But that part would come. With cash they could hire a designer again, someone who could really capture what it meant to be an Ariana bride...

  She practised her pitch out loud as she poured her fourth coffee and walked with it through to her bedroom to start getting ready. She would show him what she was capable of. She wasn’t some airhead underachiever; she was the heart and soul of this business, and with his cash injection Ariana could be a great little addition to his portfolio.

  But first she’d need to make a start on her appearance.

  The clock showed seven. Just under two hours should be fine. She’d have time for a quick face masque and then some brightening cream. Then she’d plaster on the concealer and some coral lipstick.

  She heard the door and tried to peer outside. There was a huge black car in the lane. Barbara, in one of her current husband’s limousines. She’d be ‘on her way to the gym’, which really meant she’d been scouring social media since she woke and couldn’t wait to get the details. She probably already knew about her breakfast meeting with Nikos.

  ‘Hello, Barbara,’ Jacquelyn said, as brightly as she could, as she pulled back the bolt on the door. ‘This is an early call today.’

  ‘Hello, Jacquelyn.’

  Nikos!

  He looked fresh and vital in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, but with that solar intensity that made her take a step back. Her hands flew up to her hair in a defensive motion as she did a mental checklist. Three hours’ sleep, four hours’ staring at a screen, four coffees, no make-up, hair everywhere. She stared down—a skimpy camisole and pyjama shorts.

  ‘What are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?’

  ‘I looked it up,’ he said simply.

  ‘But I thought I was to come to Maybury Hall at nine. Isn’t that what you said? Oh, no, I’ve not messed this up completely, have I? I’ve been working on a presentation all morning. I’ve personalised it just for you. And House.’

  ‘No, it’s not nine,’ he said with a wry laugh. ‘It’s only seven. And I’ve come by here on my way to the airport. Something’s come up and I’ve got business to attend to I can’t put off.’

  He was solemn, sullen and serious. He was going and taking with him the air that she needed to breathe. She felt bereft—as if the ray of hope, the hot air balloon that she had finally found to take her over this rocky ground had just been punctured. All those hours she’d spent she’d completely convinced herself that there was no way forward now other than with concessions in the House stores.

  ‘We can reschedule?’

  Reschedule? She knew a brush-off when she heard one.

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  She knew by the slight surprise in his eyes that she hadn’t hidden her disappointment at all well. But this
was awful. This was the pacifier that Martin Lopez had passed her. There was nothing else.

  ‘I’m sorry—I realise that you are a very busy man. I hope everything is OK.’

  ‘Everything will be OK, thanks. And I’m perfectly serious about another time. My assistant will be in touch in a couple of days to sort out a date...’

  She hesitated, the words of despair held back in her mouth. When? she wanted to whine. Because in six days we could be closed down...gone...forgotten.

  ‘Oh, that would be wonderful. If you have the time.’

  ‘Of course. It would be my pleasure.’

  He looked so sincere, and seemed to hesitate when she extended her hand, put on her smile.

  ‘Well, thank you anyway. It was lovely to meet you last night, and I’m very grateful for your time. I do realise how busy you are.’

  He looked away. ‘I’m a man of my word, Jacquelyn. I said I would listen to your pitch and I will.’

  She heard the words but her disappointment seemed to know no bounds. It was the light going out. It was exhaustion. It was being up all night and so full of adrenalin.

  ‘Please, don’t worry about it,’ she said, on a sigh.

  ‘Look, I’m heading to Greece. Why don’t you come along on the flight—make the pitch then? I often have meetings as I travel; if you’re OK with that, I’d be happy to accommodate it.’

  Travel with him on his plane? Alone? To talk about Ariana and House. That was intense. Insane. That was the offer of a lifetime.

  ‘Why yes, that would be super,’ she said, her mind running ahead, but then... ‘When do you fly?’

  ‘I’m on my way to the airport now.’

  ‘Now? As in right now?’

  She looked down again at her skimpy clothes and then up into his face, which seemed to have softened slightly.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t ask you to pitch in your pyjamas. The flight will take a few hours. I’m going to be busy for a while—you can finish your presentation, if that’s what you want to do. There should still be plenty of time for the pitch. If there’s not enough time, do it after lunch. You can come to the villa. Fly home later this evening. You’ll be back at work tomorrow.’