The words were humorous, and so was the tone. But to her horror Vanessa felt the blood drain from her cheeks. As it did, she saw Markos’s face change. Before she could move he had come up to her and snaked his hand around her back, drawing her hand forward.
Wordlessly, without looking at her, he took the jewel case from her.
In dead silence he flicked the lid open, then glanced at the accompanying card with the message on it.
‘And just who is inviting you to Mexico to collect the rest of these emeralds?’
Vanessa felt a wave of ice go down her spine. Never had she heard Markos speak in such tones to her—not even the other evening, when he’d been so curt about her interrupting that stuck-up Duchess. To Taki, sometimes, or Stelios, if he was out of humour or something had been fouled up, but even then she had never heard that cold steel in his voice.
She stared helplessly.
‘Well?’
His face was grim and closed.
Still she could not answer, paralysed with ice in her veins. Chill grey eyes bored into her. This wasn’t Markos. It couldn’t be Markos…
‘Do you intend to go?’
The words cut through her paralysis. Her pupils flared.
‘Of course not! I wouldn’t go near that disgusting man with a bargepole!’
Something changed in Markos’s eyes.
‘What man? Who is he? Who sent these?’
Vanessa took a step back, throwing her head up.
‘That horrible man at the hotel the other day! Cosmo Dimistris, or whatever his name was!’
Markos’s eyes narrowed. ‘Cosmo? Cosmo sent you this bracelet? What the hell gave him the idea that you’d take it from him? Or go to Mexico to collect on the necklace?’
There was anger in his voice. More than anger.
Accusation.
Something snapped in Vanessa.
‘Well, it wasn’t me, believe me! He came up with the charming idea all on his own. He slimed up to me at the party when you were off talking to that stuck-up French duchess who cut me dead! And you can send it back to him right now, OK? Along with his oh-so-charming offer to take me on as his mistress!’
‘What?’ Markos’s voice was a knife-cut.
Breath hissed in Vanessa’s throat.
‘Exactly! He had the almighty gall to stand there and tell me I could be his mistress for the asking!’
Greek spat from him. Vanessa didn’t ask for a translation. It would not be fit for her ears, she knew. His expression was thunderous.
‘He was lucky I didn’t slap his face on the spot!’ she went on, anger still burning in her. ‘That’s why I rushed up to you and interrupted you the way I did and upset the Duchess. I didn’t mean to be bad-mannered, but that creep really upset me. Saying I could be his mistress!’
Markos’s face was still grim, but she could see the anger was no longer directed at her, but at his horrible friend. He gave a sudden snort of grim humour.
‘I trust you told him you were still mine? And that you were not in the market for a change of protector.’
A shudder went through her.
‘Markos—don’t! Not even in jest. It’s just too horrible.’