‘Sarrie Silva is the uncle of a friend of mine, and he offered me the job,’ she explained. ‘The pay isn’t bad, and I actually enjoy the work.’ No need to tell him that in comparison with looking after her grandfather day in and day out for years any kind of alternative work was bliss. ‘And best of all he lets me use the back room as a bedroom, so I effectively live there.’
Nikos’s eyebrows rose. ‘You live in the back room of a sandwich bar?’
‘Yes, it’s rent-free—and in London that counts for a hell of a lot,’ Mel answered feelingly.
‘How long have you been living like that?’ Nikos asked.
‘Nearly a year now. Ever since I had to move out of my childhood home.’
Nikos frowned. ‘Why did you have to do that?’
‘It was after my grandfather died. I’d...looked after him...’ She could hear her voice twist, feel her throat tighten, feel the familiar grief at his loss ache within her, and hurried on. ‘When I lost him...’ the twist in her voice was more pronounced, though she tried to cover it ‘...I decided I’d rather rent out the house, because that would give me some steady income.’
‘But you became homeless?’ Nikos objected.
She gave a quick shake of her head, smiling now. ‘That didn’t matter, because it was only ever going to be temporary. I’ll be off abroad soon,’ she explained.
She said it deliberately. It had occurred to her as she spoke that it would be prudent to make it clear to Nikos Parakis that she was going to be out of London very soon. His words to her after she’d made that jibe at him just now echoed in her head.
‘Don’t you realise yet that I want to know a lot more about you than just your surname?’
Echoed dangerously...
Dangerously because all she wanted to do was enjoy this evening, enjoy the lavish luxury of her surroundings and keep as tight a lid as possible on the totally predictable effect Nikos Parakis was having on her female sensibilities.
Definitely time to make it clear that she was not hanging about in London for long. This evening was nothing more than an unexpected and most important a one-off treat—one she would enjoy, make the most of, and then consign to memory. And Nikos Parakis with it.
His dark eyebrows had come together when she’d mentioned going abroad.
‘Where are you thinking of travelling to?’ he asked.
‘No idea,’ she replied insouciantly, taking a sip of her water. ‘Spain, probably—wherever I can get a cheap flight to.’
He looked slightly startled. ‘You have no destination in mind?’
‘Not really. I just want to travel—that’s all. So any place is as good as another.’ Her voice changed. ‘Wherever I go it will be an adventure.’
Nikos took another sip of his martini. ‘Where have you travelled so far in your life?’ he asked.
‘Nowhere. That’s the whole point,’ Mel replied.
There was emotion in her voice—Nikos could hear it. He could also see the enthusiasm in her face...the excitement. Could see, too, how it made her eyes sparkle, lighting up her face. Enhancing her stunning beauty.
It was a beauty, he knew, from all his long-honed masculine experience, that would cause total havoc amongst the entire male population of the world once she was out in it. Probably too much havoc...
‘Are you going with friends?’ he asked.
Behind his innocuous question he knew another one lurked. Are you going with a boyfriend...?
But of course she wasn’t. If she were, she wouldn’t have accepted his invitation tonight, would she?
The knowledge that she was unattached gave him satisfaction. More satisfaction than her answer to his question.
Mel shook her head. ‘No, just solo. I’m sure I’ll make friends as I go.’
‘Well, be careful,’ he found himself warning her. ‘There are parts of the world where solo travellers—let alone female ones—are not advised to go.’
Her mouth tightened. ‘I can look after myself.’
Nikos’s expression was wry. ‘Yes, I know,’ he said, his voice dry. ‘You can go twelve rounds verbally—no problem. But...’ He held up a hand. ‘All the same, stick to tourist areas—that’s my advice.’
For a moment it looked as if she was going to argue the point, for he could see the warlike sparkle in her eyes. Then it subsided.
‘OK, OK...’ Mel temporised. ‘I’ll hire a bodyguard and lug him around with me—I get the picture,’ she said, in a deliberately resigned voice.
‘An excellent idea,’ Nikos murmured, humour in his eyes. ‘I can recommend a first-class firm offering the kind of close personal protection which I have, on occasion, engaged myself.’