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‘I want a tour of your apartment,’ she told him, determined to concentrate on work to protect herself from temptation. She cast his jacket down on a chair. ‘It’ll help me in my property search on your behalf.’
‘Go where you like.’ Nikolai watched her thrust off her high heels in the hall and turn in a clumsy circle that almost sent her cannoning into a sculpture. ‘Vodka packs quite a kick. You should have something to eat now.’
Pangs of memory were still attacking Abbey. She was recalling how Jeffrey had pushed her away and shrinking from the cruel reason why her approaches had been unwelcome. ‘You know, if a man doesn’t want to sleep with you, he’s either gay or he’s got another woman,’ she announced with the air of someone who had made an amazing deduction. ‘Why didn’t I get suspicious?’
Nikolai groaned out loud. ‘Stop thinking about Jeffrey—you’re with me!’
Abbey flipped round with something less than her usual grace. ‘Well, it’s not a problem you have. You never stop trying to get me into bed.’
‘You need food,’ Nikolai told her, directing her into the superb drawing room where an impressive selection of hot and cold snacks was laid out in readiness for them. He settled a plate into her hand and told her what everything was, for all the dishes were Russian. She settled for warm blini pancakes and caviar which she was determined to taste just once in her life.
‘I need another vodka,’ she announced.
‘Just this once my primary objective is not to get you flat on your back,’ Nikolai imparted softly. ‘I think you’ve had enough alcohol.’
Hot pink climbed her face as she collided with his stunning dark gaze. ‘I never had you picked as a nice guy,’ she confided, surprised by how scrupulous he was being all of a sudden.
‘I’m not, but I’m the guy who gave you that file.’
She couldn’t tell him she was grateful because every time she thought about what she had found out it was as if someone had slashed her with a knife and another whole slew of fond memories would be destroyed. Even worse were the vague memories of inconsistencies that now fitted her new awareness of Jeffrey as a deceiver, who had lied about loving her and hurt her self-image by making her feel insecure about her ability to attract him.
While she wandered aimlessly round the room admiring Nikolai’s spectacular views over London, she saw her face in a mirror and almost died with embarrassment on the spot. How on earth had she contrived to forget her messy make-up? ‘I need to clean up—I look awful!’ she exclaimed.
Nikolai directed her to the cloakroom, which was roughly the size of her whole apartment and equipped to fulfil a woman’s every need. She wiped her eyes clean and washed her hands free of crumbs before lingering to touch up her make-up, reasoning that feeling down didn’t mean she had to give up her pride in her appearance, particularly not with a male as gorgeous as Nikolai around…
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I’M going to take a look around the apartment now,’ Abbey informed Nikolai airily when she rejoined him.
‘It’s just a functional space, bought for a convenient location,’ Nikolai said dismissively.
Abbey looked at the home office where he worked with interest, but it was the master bedroom suite that she was truly most curious about. She whooped at first glimpse of the massive bed and could not resist taking a running jump to bounce on it. His attention welded to her every move, Nikolai came to a halt just inside the door with a wry smile on his lean, bronzed face as he watched her.
Abbey looked up at the mirror on the ceiling above the bed and winced. ‘Such a playboy cliché,’ she scolded. ‘Is that really why you worked so hard to become massively wealthy? All the beautiful women it would put within your reach?’
The faintest hint of colour scored Nikolai’s stunning cheekbones as he watched her. She was a vibrant figure in the blue dress he loved, her glorious red hair rippling round her delicate face and her violet eyes shining with amusement. ‘No, I wanted to be rich so that nobody could ever push me around again.’
Abbey couldn’t laugh at that confession. She thought about the half-brothers who had beat him up, and flinched. By the sound of it, his childhood had been very low on love and caring. It was little wonder that he had grown into a tough and ruthless adult, who believed he had no need for ties based on the more tender emotions, and who preferred to make money his most meaningful avenue of communication.
She investigated the panel of buttons on the wall and experimented, switching on and dimming the lights, opening the curtains and lifting a massive television screen and entertainment centre into view only to drop it out of sight again. She started to giggle. ‘I’m behaving like a toddler let loose on a computer keyboard, aren’t I?’
