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He suspected that if he mentioned it she’d go even slower just to annoy him, but when a caravan overtook them he lost the battle with exasperation. ‘You drive like an old woman.’
‘Sexism and ageism in one sentence...wow, impressive.’
‘You haven’t even got out of second gear yet.’
‘Enjoy the scenery. Is he going to follow me the entire way?’ She glared into the rear-view mirror that reflected the limo that was following close behind.
‘That’s the idea.’
‘Is your driver ex-army too?’
The question startled a surprised look from him. ‘What makes you say that?’
She shrugged. ‘He has that look, you know, tough, hard...the catch-a-bullet-in-his-teeth type.’
Nik grinned, thinking Fred might quite like the description. ‘He’s a veteran.’
‘You do employ a lot of ex-servicemen.’
‘I’m not being charitable...’
He said it as if being considered charitable was an insult.
‘I simply employ people I can rely on.’
And where he’d lived and worked, she supposed, you had to trust and rely on the people around you. ‘Do you miss it...?’ She bit her lip. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you of...anything...’
‘So Ana has been talking.’
‘She mentioned what you used to do and—’
‘Relax, you haven’t reminded me. Losing a friend is not something you ever forget.’ Or forgive, he thought as once again the familiar sense of guilt settled its suffocating weight over him.
She glanced in the rear-view mirror again. Eugenie had her eyes closed, and even over the engine the muffled bass boom coming from the music she was playing through her earphones was audible. ‘Of course not...sorry.’ She winced—the response to what he’d said seemed painfully inadequate and she pressed a hand briefly to the base of her throat where a blue-veined pulse was pounding in the hollow.
The action drew his eyes to the vulnerable spot, and the arrow-piercing thrust of raw desire caught him off guard and fed into the resentful anger he was feeling. ‘If Ana has recruited you to her cause, please don’t bother—’
‘What cause?’ She felt the suspicious brush of his dark hostile eyes over her bewildered face.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said after a moment. ‘My sister is overprotective and a great believer in talking about everything.’
Comprehension dawned. ‘Oh, she wants you to talk through your...experiences with...someone.’ And for a proud man, a man used to being in control all the time, that would be anathema. She wished Tatiana good luck with that endeavour, but she didn’t envy her the task of persuading her macho brother it was not a sign of weakness to talk about his feelings.
Nik’s lips twisted into a cynical smile. ‘How delicately put,’ he mocked. ‘But I don’t want to forget.’
‘Therapy isn’t about forgetting. It’s about living with the memories.’
‘What would you know about it?’ he jeered.
‘We plan to use the services of therapists in our centre; it’s an intrinsic part of the recovery process.’
‘An intrinsic part of my recovery process is a glass of whisky and a night of f—’
‘Nik!’Pretty sure what he’d been going to say and equally sure he wouldn’t want to risk his niece hearing him say it, she jerked her head towards the back of the car, her eyes wide in warning.
Dark strips of colour stood out darkly against the uniform gold tones of his olive skin, emphasising the slashing angle of his high cheekbones.
In the back Eugenie began humming off-key to her music, her eyes still closed. The sound broke the awkward silence that had settled in the front of the car. ‘She’ll probably be deaf before she’s twenty. I don’t know why Ana allows her to use those things,’ Nik muttered.
