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The band was red-hot now—red-hot against her forehead. If only he would stop, just stop…
She could feel her nails almost piercing her palms, feel the pain spiking up her arms. And still he went on, hectoring and lecturing.
‘It’s a sleazy, sordid world you’re moving in, and you can give it all the prettied-up anodyne names you like, dress it up however you please, but that doesn’t hide the truth of it! So face up to it.’
She wanted to laugh—harsh, bitter—in his damn face. Face up to it? Dear God, wasn’t that what she was doing? What she had no choice but to do? Facing up to the fact that she had to find money—any amount, by any means—because to fail…to fail…
No—failure wasn’t an option. She had to find the money. And if that meant looking at herself in the mirror and hating what she saw, being repulsed by what she saw, then so be it She could not afford pride, self-respect or self-loathing to get in her way.
She took a cold, icy breath, freezing her lungs, her voice. ‘Don’t lecture me, Nikos! I told you, I am not doing this from choice! I need the money!’
‘How much?’
She stared.
He gave a rasp of irritation. ‘I said, how much?’
Her chin lifted. ‘What’s it to you?’
Anger, controlled but visible, flashed in his eyes. ‘Just answer me.’
He wanted to know? She told him, nails digging into her palms. ‘Five thousand pounds.’
That was what she had to have—enough to see her clear, at least for the next couple of months. After that—well, time enough to worry then…
As it always did when she had to think about the endless requirement for money, her mind cut out. To do anything else was far, far too frightening.
‘Five thousand?’ Nikos echoed the amount in a harsh voice. ‘And you think you can clear that kind of money just by working as a no-sex escort? A little light evening work, just smiling and chatting and looking sexy?’ He didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm. ‘Why do you need the money, anyway?’
Her nails dug deeper. Tension netted around her. ‘I owe it.’
‘Paying off credit cards that have stopped funding you, is that it? So why not just go to Daddy and get him to bail you out—or has he finally stopped indulging you?’
The band around her head was tightening more. ‘He doesn’t know I owe the money.’ She spoke tersely. It was all she could manage.
Nikos looked at her. So she was hiding not just her lifestyle from her father but her debts, as well. For a moment he considered tracking down Edward Granton and putting him in the picture. Then he disposed of the thought. The man did not deserve to know the unsavoury truth about his daughter now, much as he hadn’t needed to know what she had tried four years ago. However, Sophie had to be stopped, right now, from the course she was so rashly taking. Time to cut to the chase. It galled him to do it, but it was necessary—that was all.
‘Very well. I will settle your debts for you. I will give you the five thousand pounds.’
She heard the words, heard them but could not take them in. He was offering her the money she so desperately needed? For a moment emotion knifed in her like a sword. Then a word formed on her lips.
‘Why?’
‘Because, Sophie, it’s in my interests.’
Emotion knifed again. She wanted to lash out at him, tell him he could take his money and go to hell! She would never, never take a penny from him! Never!
His eyes were like steel hooks, holding hers. ‘Once the tabloids pick up on you, they will dig into your background—and what will they find, Sophie? Who will they find?’ His voice was edged, like a razorblade. ‘They’ll find me. They’ll find that I once—dated—you.’ He said the word as if it were poison. ‘And then they’ll drag me into the mud that you’re wading into. The Greek tabloids will pick up the story, linking a Kazandros to a hooker—because that’s what they’ll call you, however coyly—and then my parents will hear of it. I won’t have that, Sophie. I really won’t.’ His voice was hard, icy. ‘So I’m prepared to hand over the five thousand pounds you say you owe. But—’ he held up a peremptory hand ‘—not only do you ditch the escort agency and never go near it again, you also clear out of London.’
Her answer was automatic. ‘I can’t. I can’t leave London.’
‘You want my money—you leave London.’
‘I live here.’ She kept her answers short. It was all she could manage.
She saw him give a shrug. ‘You can come back. But not till Cosmo Dimistris is out of the country, you’ve rusticated long enough, and I’m out of the UK, as well.’
