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She abandoned the thought, knowing that it would lead to a sense of feeling sorry for oneself and that she didn’t want to do that. She wasn’t little Claudia La Roche anymore, alone and afraid.
She was, simply, Claudia. She could barely read and she rarely attempted writing for the sake of her spelling, but she had made a name for herself in other ways. And she’d be damned if she was going to let Stavros make her feel ashamed of that.
She strode through the enormous bedroom – more of a suite, really – into the bathroom. Another enormous space with white and green tiles and brass fittings and a spa bath that overlooked the same view of the river that she adored. She stopped in front of the mirror and stared at herself, barely recognizing the timid woman who stared back. With determination, she reached into the top drawer and pulled out a hair brush. She moved it through the length of her hair, returning order to the windswept mop, then replaced the brush. It was then that she noticed a bag of cosmetics. Curiously, she lifted it out, unzipping it and marveling at the full range of Estee Lauder products within.
For a moment she wondered if some other occupant had left the bag behind, but they were all brand-new. She pressed some bronzer to her cheeks and a little gloss to her lips. A cursory inspection showed there were also several bottles of perfume, a toothbrush and toothpaste, shower gels and hair products.
Curiosity pushed her into the walk-in robe and she shook her head as she stepped inside. It was not a fully stocked wardrobe, but there was enough here. Hangers lined one wall, full of clothes still with their tags in place. Jeans, skirts, jumpers, a couple of dresses. She shook her head, retrieving a fresh sweater from a hanger and changing into it. She pulled a beige pashmina from another spot and wrapped it around her neck, then moved to the drawers opposite the clothes. She opened the top one and gasped as colourful silk filled her vision. Her fingers rifled through the assortment of underwear, all unmistakably upmarket and incredibly sexy.
Her cheeks flushed bright pink as she wondered if Stavros had selected it.
Of course he hadn’t. This was a job he’d most definitely given to an assistant. Or to Marta. Which begged the question: how long had he been planning this little kidnapping for?
She moved to the next drawer and discovered something far more pedestrian than the lace and silk contained above.
Socks. Bright socks which made her smile even as she knew she should feel angry at all of this. She stepped out of her ballet slippers and pulled a pair of bright-pink fluffy socks onto her feet, then opened the last drawer.
And wished she hadn’t.
Negligees. Folded neatly, but each of them as sexy as the underwear. Long and silky with lace in the cups, so that when she wore them her breasts would be on display.
It was proof that Stavros hadn’t been behind the selection of her clothes. No way would he have encouraged what he saw as her morally lax decisions.
It was strange, given that these were not her clothes, but the simple act of changing into something fresh and putting a little make up on had left her feeling more like herself. More in control.
She gave herself one last inspection in the mirror contained within the door of the wardrobe. Claudia La Roche, socialite heiress, stared back. And it was a reminder she badly needed.
She had carefully cultivated this image because it was so much better than anyone learning the truth about her – she didn’t want people to think she was dumb and disappointing. She wanted them to see her as strong and beautiful and confident – and she needed Stavros to see her that way, too. He thought she was a money-wasting, spoiled, indulged child? Well, she’d prove him right.
She straightened her spine as her eyes narrowed.
Yes. She’d act the part he expected her to play, and he’d be glad to see the back of her.
With one final inspection of her outfit, she moved back into the hallway and then down the stairs, into the formal entrance to the mansion. And something glaring caught her attention.
She frowned, looking around more slowly, but still it was missing.
Where were the decorations?
Christmas was only two weeks away. Shouldn’t there have been swags of ivy decorating the stairs? Baubles glistening over picture frames? And a tree?
She moved down the hallway, peering in rooms as she went. Not a hint of festive spirit anywhere.
Her frown deepened as she made her way to the large drawing room at the end of the house – where they’d dined most of the time on her previous visit. There was an overwhelming number of drawing and dining rooms, libraries and lounges, and this was the least intimidating of them all. It was somewhat shabbily decorated, compared to the rest of the house, with old lounge suites and a pool table, and best of all, there were no books.
None.
She moved towards the table, a rustic timber turned-leg that could accommodate six people at most. It had been set for two.
Them.
“Ah, Claudia!” Though Claudia hadn’t seen Marta in years, she recognized her voice instantly, her thick Polish accent just as robust as it had been six years earlier. “Oh, look at you!” The older woman grinned, her eyes sparkling as they met Claudia’s. “What a beauty you have become!”
“Hello, Marta,” Claudia smiled, and accepted the housekeeper’s embrace. “How are you?”
“Oh, a beauty, but you need some of my cooking, eh?” Marta reached down and pinched Claudia’s hip. “You are all bone!”
“Not quite,” Claudia said with a rueful shake of her head, and as she did so, her eyes landed on a dark figure standing in the door frame, watching the interaction.
