With visible reluctance she opened a door that might have been to a dressing room, but was not. The bathroom was, predictably, old-fashioned. Whoever bought this place, Lycos opined, would have to gut it completely.
Well, that was their problem, not his. A realtor would probably seek to present it as a project or, even more optimistically, some kind of historic artefact.
‘You hate it, don’t you?’
Her voice was flat. His eyes suddenly met hers.
‘My opinion is irrelevant,’ he said. ‘All that matters to me is that it is sold for the best price it can achieve. I have no other interest.’
He turned and walked out of the room, heading downstairs again. Something about her accusation, for an accusation it was,riled him. He glanced at his watch. It was nearing midday. He should collect his suitcase, get into his car and head off. Make for Paris. Select a realtor. Get the paperwork of possession sorted and then hand this place over for sale.
She’ll have to be evicted.
Would she go quietly? With or without her livestock? Which probably wasn’t hers anyway, any more than themaswas. He frowned a moment. He would need to carefully check that she had no legal claim on the property. She’d said she’d tried to make a claim and had failed, but maybe she’d just lacked a decent lawyer. Well, he could afford the best lawyers and they would ascertain his own claim. And if there was any doubt about it, then Gerald Maitland would pay the price for it. Staking what was not his to stake was unforgiveable when playing the Wolf… .
‘Are you going now?’
Arielle’s voice from the top of the stairs made him turn. It had been coolly spoken and he could see her hand gripping the banister. She obviously wanted him to go. To leave her here. Enjoy what little time was left to her in the place she was so clearly reluctant to accept was never hers in the first place.
‘No,’ he said.
Instantly, he frowned. Why the hell had he just said that? He’d been on the point of leaving, but now—
‘I’ll stay the night,’ he announced.
Arielle’s grip on the banister tightened. Then, stepping downstairs, she asked in a constricted voice, ‘Why?’
The dark, unreadable eyes rested on her. ‘I don’t believe…’ Lycos Dimistrios said, ‘…that that is any of your business. As I have repeatedly said, I am the new owner of this property and what I want will be.’
Her chin went up. ‘I only have your word that you have acquired it from my stepbrother!’
His answer was a shrug. ‘I have it in writing. And if that doesn’t suffice, contact him. He’ll confirm it. He’ll have no choice.’
Arielle’s face contorted. ‘I wouldn’t speak to that toad if he were on his deathbed!’
Another shrug came her way. ‘Then don’t contact him. It’s no concern of mine.’ She watched him make his way into the parlour, settle himself into an armchair and get out his phone, paying no more attention to her. For a moment or two she just stood there, fulminating, until she heard him start to speak in French. He was speaking to someone called Marc and was saying he had been delayed and wanted to rearrange his meeting. She left him to it and stalked into the kitchen. Her thoughts were full. Beyond full.
The implications of what had happened this morning were overwhelming her and out of nowhere she felt her heart start to race and pound. She leant against the stone sink, trying to get control of herself, but it was impossible. She felt herself start to shake. More than shake—convulse. A cry broke from her, tore her throat and dry sobs racked her body.
It had happened. It had finally, finally happened. The sword that had been hanging over her head since the day she’d read her father’s will, since she’d heard Naomi’s hateful voice and Gerald’s even more hateful one mocking her and taking from her all that she held most dear, had finally fallen. Finally sliced her through…
‘Arielle?’
She didn’t hear her name being spoken. Her eyes were screwed shut and the uncontrollable shaking of her body would not stop, nor would the dry, cracking sobs in her throat.
‘Arielle—stop. This is hysteria.’
She felt her hands seized and pressed together in a much stronger grip than hers, so tightly it distracted her. She flung open her eyes. Lycos Dimistrios, who had arrived like a marauding pirate to take everything from her, was there right in front of her. His expression was strange. Concerned.
‘I said stop,’ he said again. ‘Get control of yourself. Control is essential. Without it you are nothing. No one. Without control you are vulnerable. A victim.’
His eyes were holding hers, like hooks, not letting them go. The force in them was impossible to deny. Impossible to defy…
With racking breaths, she heard her dry, cracking sobs start to die away and her convulsions finally ceased.
He nodded curtly.
‘That’s better.’ He let go of her hands as he reached past her, taking an upturned glass from the draining board and filling it with cold water from the tap over the sink.
