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‘I guess it is something.’ Daniil shrugged. ‘I have never made it past forty-eight hours...’
His eyes held hers, really held hers, and to her astonishment Libby realised that there was a warning there. A delicious warning perhaps, and Libby’s own eyes narrowed at something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
One—she pondered, was he flirting with her?
Possibly, she conceded. A lot of work would have gone into honing his technique so he was just idly practising perhaps.
Two—if he could be so direct then so would she.
‘There was that German supermodel...’ Libby wagged her finger at him. ‘You lasted two weeks with her, I believe.’
‘You’ve done your homework,’ Daniil said approvingly. ‘Ah, yes, Herta. I followed her to a photo shoot in Brazil, not because I was lovesick, more that I had to check something...’ His gorgeous index finger went to his Adam’s apple.
‘Sorry?’
‘I kept thinking—she was so tall and that voice of hers was so deep...’
Oh, my God, he was shocking.
‘And was she...?’ Libby croaked.
‘A she?’ Daniil said, and nodded. ‘She definitely was. Thank God.’ He let out a low laugh and Libby forgot what planet she was on. It was Daniil who had to bring her back to earth. ‘Go on,’ he said.
She had two big guns to use on him and a very impatient target. She could almost sense her time with the great man was about to expire.
‘Well, as you know, Lady Katherine is unwell,’ Libby said. ‘Extremely unwell.’
‘Not so unwell that she can’t throw a party,’ Daniil pointed out.
‘No, but...’
‘But?’
She tried to trip or even make a tiny jiggle on his guilt switch but he just coolly stared back at her as she spoke. ‘Well, there might not be a forty-first.’
‘Is that it?’ Daniil frowned.
‘Sorry?’
‘Your attempt to persuade me?’
She swallowed. She did think of her other big gun, that there was a letter awaiting him if he went and something about Sir Richard not giving Daniil’s inheritance to his cousin, but, hell, Libby thought, how tacky was that, so she chose not to use it.
‘That’s it.’ Libby sighed and gave in. ‘I’m not very good at trying to persuade people. I tend not to bother, in fact.’
‘Well, just so you know, your technique is all wrong,’ he said. ‘First, you should have given me all the shit, just laid it out on the table for me.’
‘Such as?’
‘You should have told me that I would have to go by my adopted name if I attended—Daniel Thomas—and that I would be expected to give a speech...’
Libby sat with her mouth gaping, realising he was streets ahead of her.
‘Then,’ Daniil said, ‘when you had my emphatic refusal, then you should have tried to persuade me and talk me round by pointing out my mother’s declining health and such things.’
‘Would it have worked?’
‘Not on me,’ he said. ‘I’m just letting you know, for future reference, that you were working backwards with your technique because, had I dubiously agreed, there was still more you had to ask of me. You hit me too soon with the sob story.’
‘Well, then, it’s just as well this isn’t my usual kind of work,’ Libby said, and peered at him. He completely intrigued her. He was a stunning mix—arrogant and hostile yet somehow approachable.
‘Tell your father the answer is no—I shall not be attending my parents’ wedding anniversary celebrations.’
‘Because?’ she asked.
‘I have no reason to, neither do I wish to share my decision-making process with you.’
‘Was it always going to be a no?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then, why did you agree to see my father?’
‘Well, he insisted that he had something to say that might change my mind. I notice that you didn’t mention my inheritance going to Cousin George.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I have no reason to, neither do I wish to share my decision-making process with you.’ Libby parroted his words but he just smiled.
‘You know you want to really.’
She did!
‘Well—’ Libby shuffled in her seat ‘—I happen to think that’s blackmail.’
‘That’s my parents’ favourite sport,’ Daniil said. ‘Anyway, I don’t need a draughty old mansion on my hands. I loathe the place. I certainly have no wish to ever own it.’
