‘Just as dictatorial as ever,’ she said.
His laugh whipped around the room, hitting her hard. ‘You used to like that about me, I seem to recall.’
Her heart was racing. She lifted her arms, crossing them over her chest, hoping they might hide the way her body was betraying her. ‘I’m definitely not here to walk down memory lane,’ she said stiffly.
‘You have no idea why you’re here.’
She met his gaze, felt flame leaping from one to the other. ‘No. You’re right. I don’t.’
Wishing she’d obeyed her instincts and refused to see him, she began to walk towards the door. Being in the same room as him, feeling the force of his enmity, she knew only that nothing could be important enough to go through this wringer.
Some paths were best unfollowed—their relationship was definitely one of them.
‘I don’t know why I listened.’ She shook her head and her hair loosened a little, dropping a tendril from her temple across her cheek. ‘I shouldn’t have come.’
He laughed again, following her to the door and pressing the flat of his palm against it. ‘Stop.’ She started, and it dawned on him that Marnie was nervous. Her facade was exceptional. Cold,
unfeeling, composed. But Marnie was uncertain, too. Her enormous almond-shaped eyes, warm like coffee, flew to his face before she seemed to regain her footing and inject her expression with an air of impatience.
But she wasn’t impatient. How could she be? The past was claiming her. He was him, and she was her, but they were kids again. Teenagers madly in love, sure of nothing and everything, unable to keep their hands off each other in the passionate way of illicit love affairs.
Sensing her prevarication, he spoke firmly. ‘Your father is on the brink of total ruin, and if you don’t listen to me he’ll be bankrupt within a month.’
She froze, all colour draining from her face. She shook her head slowly from side to side, mumbling something about not being able to believe it, but her mind was shredding through that silly denial. After all, she’d seen for herself the change in him recently. The stress. The anger. The drinking too much. The weight loss. Disturbed sleep. Why hadn’t she pushed him harder? Why hadn’t she demanded that he or her mother tell her honestly what was going on?
‘I have no interest in lying to you,’ he said simply. ‘Sit down.’
She nodded, her throat thick, as she crossed the room and took a chair at the meeting table. He followed, his eyes not leaving her face as he poured two glasses of water and slid one across the table, before hunkering his large frame into the chair opposite.
His feet brushed hers accidentally beneath the table. The shock of her father’s situation had robbed her of her usual control and she jumped at the touch, her whole body resonating before she caught herself in the childish reaction.
And he’d noticed it; the smile of sardonic amusement on his face might have embarrassed her if she hadn’t been so completely overcome by concern.
‘Dad’s... I don’t...’ She shook her head, resting her hands on the table, trying to make sense of the revelation.
‘Your father, like many investors who didn’t take adequate precautions, is suffering at the hands of a turbulent market. More fool him.’
He spoke with disrespect and obvious dislike, but Marnie didn’t leap to defend Arthur Kenington.
At one time she’d been h
er father’s biggest champion, but that, too, had changed over time. Shell shock in the immediate aftermath of Libby’s death had translated to the kind of loyalty that didn’t allow room for doubt. Her need to keep her family close had made it impossible for her to risk upsetting the only people on earth who understood her grief. She would have done anything to save them further pain, even if that had meant walking away from the man she loved because they’d expressed their bitter disapproval.
Her eyes were cloudy as they settled on his frame. Memories were sharp. She pushed at them angrily, relegating them to the locked box of her mind.
Those memories were of the past. The distant past. She and Nikos were different people now. ‘He will lose everything without immediate help. Without money.’
Marnie turned the ring she always wore around her finger—a nervous gesture she’d resorted to without realising. Her face—so beautiful, so ethereally elegant—was crushed, and Nikos felt a hint of pity for her. There was a time when he would have said that causing her pain was anathema to him. A time when he would have leapt in front of a speeding bus to save her life—a time when he had
promised to love her for ever, to adore her, to cherish her.
And she’d answered that pledge by telling him he’d never be good enough for her, or words to that effect.
He straightened in the chair, honing in on his resolve.
But Marnie spoke first, her voice quietly insistent. ‘Dad has lots of associates. People with money.’
‘He needs rather a large sum.’