The Millionaire Affair Page 11

  ‘I do not,’ said Nikolai between his teeth, ‘want Lisa Romaine.’

  He was not talking to Alec.

  Lisa didn’t normally go to see her mother and sister more than once a week. But Kit worried her. So she slipped away from the nightly meeting as soon as she could on Thursday evening and took the train to their suburb.

  Joanne greeted her with relief.

  ‘She hasn’t been to work for three days,’ she said in despair. ‘I don’t think she’s eaten a thing either. Talk to her.’

  Kit was sitting on her bedroom floor again. She had closed the curtains and the room was lit only by candles. This time the music was some strange plain chant.

  Kit looked up when Lisa opened the door and gave a wan smile.

  ‘Mother called in the cavalry, then.’

  Lisa responded to the smile rather than the words. She came in, closing the door carefully, and slid down on the floor beside her sister.

  All the cushions were piled up round Kit, as if she had dug herself in for a siege. But she passed Lisa a large toy alligator to put behind her back. Lisa recognised it. She had brought it back as a silly present for Kit when she went to a conference in New Orleans. For some reason it moved Lisa unbearably.

  ‘Oh, lamb,’ she said, her voice breaking.

  Kit dropped her head on Lisa’s shoulder.

  ‘Mum thinks I’m losing the plot again, doesn’t she? She keeps making me soup. I can’t bear it,’ she said with the calm of absolute despair. ‘I know I have to eat. I do. But when Mum starts getting at me all I want to do is sleep.’

  Lisa put her arm round the thin shoulders.

  ‘Lee, I’m scared.’ Kit sounded it.

  ‘This can’t go on. There has to be an answer. I’ll find one,’ Lisa promised in a low voice. ‘I will.’

  She spent every hour she wasn’t working on the telephone the next day. It was no use. Kit had tried too many treatments already.

  ‘I don’t care what it costs,’ Lisa said desperately.

  ‘Ms Romaine, Kit has done every course we can offer her,’ said her consultant’s secretary wearily. ‘She just doesn’t want to get better. There is nothing anyone can do.’

  Lisa banged her fist on the desk. ‘But—’

  There was an ominous splitting sound.

  ‘Your jacket’s gone,’ murmured Angela.

  Sam’s secretary was passing with a plastic tray full of cups of coffee from the machine. She left a coffee and helpfully fingered a rip below the collar.

  ‘I’ll talk to Mr Feldstein and get back to you,’ said the telephone.

  ‘Thank you for nothing,’ said Lisa to the disconnected line.

  She took off her jacket and looked at it moodily. Angela was right. What was worse, Lisa suspected the jacket was beyond repair. It had split down the central seam.

  ‘Oh, wonderful! Even fate is determined to make me buy some new clothes.’

  ‘Great,’ said one of the other girls. ‘Lie back and enjoy it.’

  Lisa sighed. ‘I hate shopping.’

  She didn’t say that now Kit was ill again she didn’t want to spend money on anything until she knew how much she would need to cover the next lot of therapy. But Angela was a friend, and knew what she must be thinking.

  Passing back to her office from Sam’s conference, she bent and murmured in Lisa’s ear, ‘Cheer up. You’re living in the right place for cheap clothes. The Portobello Market doesn’t just sell antiques to rich tourists, you know.’

  So Saturday morning found Lisa threading her away through the multilingual crowds in the famous street market. The stalls were so close together that they completely cut off the brilliant spring sunshine from the pavement. What was more, by the time people stopped to examine the traders’ wares, and to bargain, there was just about room for the crowd to move in single file. It went at a snail’s pace. Lisa gave up and moved out into the road.

  She rapidly left behind the stalls selling silver, porcelain, books, bric-à-brac, and even Thirties fashion, full of beading and crushed velvets. Briefly sidetracked, Lisa fingered cocktail pyjamas in black and gold silk wistfully. They fascinated her. She had to work hard to remind herself that she had no money to play with and ought to move on.

  The further north she went, she found, the more utilitarian the goods became. First fruit and vegetables, then cheap sheets and bolts of material, then second-hand furniture and odds and ends that not even their optimistic vendors could call antique. This was more like the street markets of her childhood, she thought. Joanne had furnished their dingy flat and kept them fed and clothed from stalls like this. In spite of the sunshine, Lisa shivered.

  She prowled among the stalls. There were racks of clothes, all right, but nothing she could wear to work. The poor cut of the jackets showed the moment she tried any of them on. And the skirts were made of synthetic materials that screamed how cheap they were. Even Lisa, who was outraged by the price of the designer clothes her female colleagues wore, couldn’t convince herself that anything here would do.

  Sighing, she retraced her steps. But by now the morning was advanced and the tourists were out in force. And so were the sharks. Once she thought she felt a hand feeling for her pocket, and grinned. No pickpocket would get anything from her. One advantage of being familiar with street markets was that you knew you had to guard your money. Lisa’s was in a waist-pouch, tucked securely under her sweater.

  The closer she got to the antiques, the denser the crowd. Lisa found herself jostled from road to pavement and back again. Nearly everyone was taller than her and, looking up at the passers-by, she had a strange, frightening feeling that she was sinking below waves of people.

  And then she stumbled…

  The tall man who had been shadowing her at a discreet distance began to race forward, pushing affronted pedestrians out of the way.

  Lisa almost recovered her balance. But then a distracted woman talking into her mobile phone lurched into her and she began to fall. She cried out. But no one heard her. She flung up an arm to protect her eyes and curled into a protective ball as she fell.

  Nikolai flung himself on his knees beside her. He leaned over, shielding her with his body. Lisa opened her eyes.

  ‘You!’

  Nikolai looked down. ‘Are you hurt?’

  Lisa shook her head shakily. ‘I—I don’t think so.’

  But when she tried to stand her head swam, and she had to grab at the nearest support. It turned out to be Nikolai Ivanov, but she was beyond caring. He straightened, holding her almost tenderly. Lisa found she was clinging to his hand.

  Nikolai shouldered open a space in the throng. Still clinging, Lisa let herself be led through.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said in a subdued voice.

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re very pale.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ But she swayed.

  He caught her.

  ‘We’ll go back to my place. It’s nearer.’

  Lisa put a hand to her swimming head. She hardly heard him. After one swift look at her chalk-white face, Nikolai clamped her strongly to his side and surged through the crowd. By the time they reached the building where he had rented his flat, he was half carrying her.

  The dazzling sun, the crowds, the anxiety of the last days were all taking a sudden and alarming toll. Lisa leaned against him, her senses swimming.

  Nikolai never once let go of her. On the doorstep, in the lift, while he was feeling for the key and unlocking the unfamiliar door—the whole time she felt as if his arms surrounded her. He was like a rock. And once they were inside the dark flat he let the door fall shut and swung her up into his arms.

  It was so different from the night at her flat. This time he carried her as if she were fragile and precious. Lisa felt his heart beating slow and steady under her cheek. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the utter luxury of feeling protected.

  Nikolai brought her a glass of water and hunkered down beside the sofa. Lisa opened her eyes
. For the first time since she had known him, she thought, he was looking at her without suspicion. Lisa could hardly believe the change.

  ‘Thank you.’ She took the glass and sipped.

  ‘What happened?’

  He was so close. If she swayed just a couple of inches she could lean against his chest. If she did, she was almost certain that he would put his arm round her. She wanted it so badly it was a physical pain.

  Stop it. You can’t afford to go leaning on a man. Especially not this man.

  She drank the water quickly.

  Nikolai was frowning. ‘Can’t you remember what happened? Do you think you could have hit your head?’

  ‘No.’ Lisa shook her head. ‘I lost my footing, that’s all. I wasn’t hurt.’

  He was dissatisfied. ‘I don’t buy that. You looked like a ghost. And normal healthy people don’t just lose their footing like that.’

  Lisa bit her lip. ‘It was the crowd,’ she admitted at last. ‘I felt as if I was drowning. I know it was silly.’

  ‘Not so silly.’ He touched her cheek fleetingly. ‘You’re only a little thing, aren’t you?’

  There was a caressing note in his voice. It made her want… It made her want a lot of silly things, Lisa told herself firmly. Things she would not have dreamed of if she hadn’t still been a bit shaky from the fall.

  She gave him back the glass and swung her legs off the sofa. And incidentally moved further away from him.

  ‘I’m better now.’

  Nikolai noted the distance she put between them, his eyes shrewd.

  ‘You don’t look it,’ he told her frankly. ‘At least sit for a moment. Get your breath back.’

  To tell the truth, Lisa was glad to comply. Maybe it was his proximity, but her heart was pounding uncomfortably hard. She nodded.

  Nikolai stood up. ‘What were you doing in Portobello Market? Are you a collector?’

  Lisa looked up. The brown eyes had gone opaque and suspicious again. For a moment she felt almost bereft.

  She pulled herself together and answered quickly, ‘No, I was looking for clothes.’

  Too quickly to consider her words. She had told the truth and it made no sense to Nikolai.

  ‘Clothes?’ He grappled with it. ‘You mean antique dresses or something?’

  Lisa stiffened. ‘No.’

  He was blank. ‘But nobody buys their clothes from a market stall.’

  ‘That just shows how hidebound you are,’ said Lisa with returning hostility. ‘Lots of people have no alternative. It depends on their disposable income.’

  ‘And yours must be hefty,’ he pointed out, with some justice. ‘You must be able to afford any clothes you want, starting with the Paris boutiques.’

  Lisa bristled. ‘You don’t know a thing about me.’

  ‘I know what bond dealers earn,’ said Nikolai unanswerably. ‘The more successful they are, the bigger their bonuses—isn’t that right? And only this week I gave you an award for being the top cat in London.’ He shrugged. ‘So—I find it difficult to believe you’re so hard up you have to buy your clothes off a barrow.’

  Lisa flushed.

  ‘Unless you’re spending a fortune on something else, of course.’ His eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘Have you got a drug problem?’

  She forgot she was feeling frail. She bounced off the sofa in outrage.

  ‘Of course I haven’t.’

  ‘Then where does the money go?’

  ‘What business is it of yours?’

  He was no longer kind. In fact he didn’t look the same man as he had been five minutes ago. His eyes were as hard as stone.

  ‘Tatiana trusts you,’ he said levelly. ‘It’s up to me to make sure that trust is not betrayed.’

  ‘Oh!’

  They were back right where they had started, thought Lisa. She must be more shaken than she’d thought, because quite suddenly she couldn’t bear it. She gave in and told him the truth.

  ‘I support my mother and sister,’ she said quietly. ‘They’re not extravagant. But bond dealing is a young man’s game, and I don’t know how long I’ll earn at my present rate. So I’m buying their house on a very short mortgage. That’s where most of the money goes.’

  She sat back among the cushions as if she had run a five-mile race. It felt like a defeat.

  Nikolai was silent.

  Then, to her astonishment, he said slowly, ‘You sound as if you aren’t keen on being a bond dealer. Don’t you enjoy it?’

  Lisa hesitated. But telling the truth seemed to be unavoidable this morning.

  ‘I’m good at it. I like doing something I’m good at. And, of course, it pays the bills. Or at least—’ She broke off.

  Nikolai waited. But she didn’t go on.

  ‘You’re a woman of secrets, Lisa Romaine.’

  Involuntarily she imagined what it would be like if this man knew all her secrets. He would not, she thought, hesitate to use them against her. She had a brief vision of him standing in Joanne’s small crowded sitting room, looking all the way down his Roman nose at Kit and her mother. Lisa shivered.

  ‘I hope so,’ she said with feeling.

  He frowned. ‘You’re not very trusting, are you?’

  ‘Makes two of us,’ she retorted.

  Nikolai was taken aback. ‘Touché,’ he said after a moment. ‘Look. I’ll make a deal with you.’

  ‘What sort of deal?’ Lisa was suspicious again.

  ‘Don’t look like that,’ he said involuntarily. ‘I’m not asking you to sell your soul. Or even your body,’ he added, as her frown did not lighten.

  Lisa glared, refusing to blush. ‘Makes a nice change.’

  ‘No, it doesn’t. Bodies are for giving, not selling.’ He touched her cheek briefly. ‘And I live in hope.’ Before she could speak, or even react by a gesture, he swept on, ‘But for the moment I’m only interested in Tatiana. Right?’

  Lisa’s eyes fell. ‘Well?’ she said gruffly.

  ‘I won’t try to stop Tatiana renting the garden flat to you. I won’t interfere in any way. And in return—’

  ‘Yes?’

  He hesitated. ‘I’d like to call you from time to time.’

  Her head reared up. ‘But you said—’

  ‘Not about us. About Tatiana. She isn’t getting any younger. And there’s no family member in London for her to turn to if she has a problem. You, on the other hand, are going to be just downstairs.’

  Lisa stared at him blankly.

  ‘You want me to spy on Tatiana?’

  He pursed his lips. ‘Shall we say, keep a friendly eye on her?’

  ‘But—me? You don’t trust me.’

  ‘My feelings about you,’ said Nikolai carefully, ‘are best described as mixed.’

  ‘Well, then—’

  ‘A weekly call,’ he said softly, ‘will keep an eye on you as well. Don’t you see?’

  There was a long, complicated silence.

  ‘I think this is another one of your devious plans,’ Lisa said slowly.

  Nikolai gave her a bland smile. ‘That’s your privilege. Is it a deal?’

  There was no reason for it, but all of a sudden it felt like the riskiest thing she had ever done in her life. And his enigmatic expression only increased her wariness. Lisa told herself not to be a fool. She drew a shaky breath.

  ‘Deal.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘RIGHT,’ said Nikolai. He stood up, and said in quite another tone, ‘Now we can start again.’

  He held out a hand. Lisa looked up at him, confused. He seized her own hand and shook it vigorously.

  ‘Nikolai Ivanov. How do you do?’

  She seized her hand back. ‘More games,’ she said scornfully.

  ‘What’s wrong with games? Don’t you play, Lisa Romaine?’

  ‘Not with you,’ said Lisa. It was heartfelt.

  He gave a soft laugh. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  She stood up. ‘Take it any way you like.’

 
; She looked round for her waist-pouch. Nikolai didn’t help. Instead he leaned against the crowded mantelpiece and watched with mild interest.

  ‘You know, you’re not at all like your advance publicity,’ he informed her.

  Lisa didn’t answer. She picked a pile of books off a table and lifted some papers. Her bag wasn’t there.

  ‘Your boss, now. He thinks you’re a real party girl.’

  That stopped her dead in her tracks. ‘My boss?’

  ‘I don’t remember his name. He thinks your skirts are too short.’

  ‘He thinks I should be a man,’ said Lisa curtly, resuming her search.

  ‘Also, your tops are too tight and your jewellery is naff.’ His eyes danced. ‘I’m guessing, but I’d say he doesn’t know about the tattoo?’

  Lisa stopped looking and turned to face him, hands on hips.

  ‘OK. Where is my bag?’

  He looked reproachful. ‘Don’t you even want to know where I met your boss? Or why?’

  ‘It’s obvious you were spying on me,’ said Lisa, with patience. She didn’t sound as if she cared one way or the other. Which was rather impressive as she was seething inwardly. ‘I hope you had a good time.’

  ‘Very instructive. I particularly like that big swivel seat that goes up and down. Is that a perk of being a manager, or do you need it to see over the top of the screens?’

  Lisa went cold. He had been in the dealing room. He had come in and watched her work and she had had no idea he was there. She could not have felt more exposed if he had filmed her in her bedroom.

  ‘You take your spying seriously,’ she said, when she could speak.

  “‘Get your hands off her, Rob, you pathetic lecher,”’ he quoted softly.

  Lisa’s head reared up. ‘You were there then?’

  Nikolai didn’t answer that directly. ‘And you don’t need a man.’

  Lisa remembered that she had shouted that at Rob when he’d offered to escort her to the awards dinner. She fought rising colour.

  ‘Where were you?’ she said thinly. ‘I didn’t see you.’