'Did he bully you again?' he demanded openly.
Her eyes widened in surprise.
'Certainly not,' she answered, economising on the trudi to cut to the chase. 'We struck an excellent deal that I'm perfectly satisfied with.'
She poured milk into her coffee and took a reflective sip.
'Deal?' There was an edge in Nikos's voice that Andrea would have had to have been deaf not to hear. 'What deal?'
She smiled. It was an artificial smile, but for all that she could not stop a curl of satisfaction indenting her mouth. Satisfaction that at last, after a quarter of a century, her mother would get reparation from Yiorgos Coustakis. Devastated, heartbroken and pregnant, Kim had asked nothing from Andreas's father, had wanted only to offer him and Andreas's mother the comfort of knowing that, although their son had died so tragically, a grandchild had been conceived. She had not asked for money—she had offered comfort and consolation.
But Yiorgos Coustakis had treated her like a gold-digging whore...
'Finally, Mr Vassilis, I get money of my own.'
'Money?' There was a chill in his voice now that raised the hairs on her neck, but she kept the tight, artificial smile pasted to her lips.
'Yes, money, Mr Vassilis. You know—the crisp folding stuff, the bright shiny stuff, the silent, electronic stuff that wings its way into bank accounts and makes the world go round.'
Her eyes were bright and hard.
'Explain.'
That was an order, just as if Nikos Vassilis had been speaking to one of his underlings. And if he owned a company worth five hundred million euros, Andrea reminded herself deliberately, that meant he had one hell of a lot of underlings!
'Explain? Well, it's an extremely simple contract, Mr Vassilis. Just between me and my grandfather—it will have no impact on your own contract with him, 1 promise. My grandfather undertakes to make a certain amount of money over to me upon my marriage to you.' She smiled again, bright and hard. 'Unlike you, I prefer Coustakis cash, not shares.'
Nikos's face had frozen.
'He is paying you to marry me?'
Andrea could have laughed. Laughed right in his handsome face. He was angry! He actually had the nerve to be angry! God, what a hypocrite! But she couldn't laugh. Her throat felt very tight suddenly, as if there was a cord around her neck. Choking at her. All she could do was give a careless, acknowledging nod and take another mouthful of coffee.
She set her cup dow
n with a click.
'Just as he is paying you,' she pointed out, 'to marry me.'
'That is different! Completely different!'
Refutation was in every syllable. Andrea busied herself topping up her coffee. She felt very calm now. Extremely calm.
'I don't see why. You would hardly hitch yourself to an unknown woman if there weren't something in it for you, would you? I just happen to come with enough Coustakis shares to make it worth your while.' She replaced the coffee pot and looked straight across the table at the man she was going to marry. For half a million pounds.
'Mr Vassilis, let us be completely up-front about this. You did me the courtesy last night—' she did not trouble to hide the sarcasm in her voice '—of pointing out that our marriage was predicated upon your taking control of Coustakis Industries. You can't do that without a majority shareholding. Even I, with my tiny business brain, know that!'
Nikos looked at her. His grey eyes were like cold slate. 'I am buying Coustakis shares! Not in cash, but in paper—exchanging them for Vassilis shares at a hefty premium, I assure you! Your grandfather will do very well out of the deal! I'm undertaking a reverse takeover, whereby the much smaller Vassilis Inc can acquire the much larger Coustakis holding with a minimum of debt purchase or rights issues to fund it.'
She waved her hand impatiently. 'Spare me the technicalities! The salient point, so far as I am concerned, is that my grandfather will not agree to the merger—reverse take-over, acquisition, whatever you call it—unless you marry me. That means you're marrying me to get Coustakis Industries. Owning the majority of Coustakis shares will make you even richer than you are—i.e. you're being paid to marry me. End of story.'
Tony would be proud of my cool, clear logic, she thought defiantly.
Every good resolution that Nikos had entertained since brooding on Andrea Coustakis in his boardroom vanished. Every last shred of sympathy. Sympathy for her being kept in ignorance by Old Man Coustakis, sympathy for her having a brute like him for a grandfather—all went totally. He had come to make his peace with her, to start over again, begin his wooing of her as a man should woo his bride...
That hysterical harpy he had seen last night would never come back—there would be no need for her. Instead only the soft, yielding, sensual woman he had held in his arms so tantalisingly would be the bride he took for his wife.
But what did he find now? A woman sitting and talking about marriage and money in the same breath. A woman with a mind like a cash-box.