Redeemed By Her Innocence / Sheikh's Royal Baby Revelation

She had so much more to worry about now.

The final award was Best Wedding Dress, and to announce it Nikos Karellis bounded athletically to the stage.

‘He was her tennis coach,’ she heard the woman beside her whisper.

‘Ooh, he could coach me in anything he wanted,’ said someone else, and giggled.

Jacquelyn tried not to roll her eyes, but she couldn’t help looking closer, measuring his stature with her own innate sense of proportion. He was quite physically perfect. Exceptionally physically perfect. In the pit of her stomach something awoke, a swirl of longing, a primal feeling that tugged and shocked her, and she squirmed and moved in her seat. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but everyone’s face was turned to the stage, eyes wide with interest.

The finalists were announced. The winning dress displayed on the screen and then the flushed and jubilant face of the designer, a pretty brunette. Nikos delivered the glass trophy, kissed her warmly on each cheek and gave her an affectionate squeeze.

Nice, thought Jacquelyn.

She had barely had a peck on the cheek in the three years since Tim. She was never the most physical person, but she liked affection, as much as everyone else. She liked being held close; she liked her hair being stroked and all the intimacy that came with being with someone you cared for.

Another wave of self-pity washed over her.

Was she destined to be single her whole life? Would she ever meet someone else?

She looked around the room. She might not be the youngest person here, but she was almost certainly the only one who was still a virgin.

She wondered if anyone knew. Sometimes she felt as if she were wearing a sign. And sometimes, there were moments she wished she could just go out and find someone and have sex and be done with it.

Those months after Tim left she’d tortured herself thinking she’d been wrong, stupid, blindly falling in with Nonna’s views, not thinking for herself. She’d almost considered tracking him down to tell him she’d changed her mind. But he’d gone. And that was that. And now she was glad. She really was.

The ceremony was over. The audience was applauding. The final comments were being made. Some people had already started to move. The lights came up. She spun back round to see if Martin was still there, but he’d gone.

She threw down her napkin and pushed back her chair. It caught on the carpet. She struggled to right it as she looked up. Where on earth had he gone? Everyone was heading off to the bar, but where was Martin?

Panic gripped her. What if she lost sight of him? What if he disappeared and she couldn’t find him?

Then she saw him, heading off in the opposite direction. She picked up speed, almost stumbling over the parquet dance floor in her heels, desperate not to lose sight of him. But then suddenly from nowhere Tim appeared!

‘Jacquelyn, wait,’ he called, and he reached a hand around her arm.

She turned, confused, wondering what on earth to say.

The days she’d spent longing for the tiniest glimpse of him, five seconds of his time so that they could ‘work it out’. Yearning to see his face, feel his hands, just be in the same room as him, again.

Now all she felt was embarrassment. All she could think was that he was holding her back from the one thing she had come here to do.

‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ she said, tugging her arm away. His face, the one she had once thought handsome, twisted as if she had slapped him.

‘I know this isn’t the right time,’ he said, grabbing for her arm again, ‘but you have to know that I’m really sorry about the way I treated you. I’ve grown up, I’ve moved on…’

‘Look, I’m not interested.’

People were crowding at the opposite doors; thankfully no one seemed to be looking this direction. But he was right in front of her, blocking her view of the door to the hallway where Martin had disappeared.

‘I thought I could do it but what you wanted was unnatural, Jacquelyn,’ he whispered. ‘I’m a man. I have needs and you wouldn’t listen.’

‘We made a promise!’ she hissed. ‘You never once said that you couldn’t do it. Instead you just vanished! So you’ll have to live with that. Now let me go, I’m in a hurry.’

‘You made the promise for both of us. Your martyrdom is wasted, you know. That whole “pure as the driven snow” act is so last century.’

‘Look, get out of my way. I couldn’t care less what you think.’

She tried to step past him, but someone else was there.

‘Is everything OK here?’

A deep Australian drawl, a strong unflinching presence.

‘I’m trying to find Martin. Is he still here?’ she asked desperately, smoothing her hair. The last thing she wanted was him to hear any of this.

Nikos’s eyebrows were raised over dark eyes that flashed concern.

‘I need to see him.’

‘Yes, he’s here,’ he said, and he came towards her, reading the situation with a frown. Then he turned to Tim, bearing down on him with his six-foot stature.

‘Don’t you know any better than to crowd a woman?’ he said, stepping further into the space, his body telegraphing masculinity, strength, power, the like of which she’d never experienced before.

Tim’s face blanched and he took a step back.

‘Now look here. I’m a friend of Jacquelyn’s and I’m only trying to have a conversation.’

She looked at the two of them and a moment of clarity struck like a thunderbolt. Tim looked so short and plump and silly next to this man. What on earth had she seen in him? She had wasted so much time and tears, and now she was reduced to begging for crumbs from some rich man’s table when she should have been taking Ariana on to the next level?

She shook her head in despair. Where had she gone so badly wrong?

‘Tim, the only reason you’re here right now is because there are people here tonight who remember what you did, and you want me to say it’s OK. Well, it’s not OK. Nothing about it is OK. So why don’t you take your half-baked little excuse for an apology and your stupid plastic award and get out of my way?’

She turned to Nikos, whose eyes were wide. She’d shocked him too. Good.

‘I want to see Martin. Now. Where is he?’ she said.

A grin broke out across his face and he stepped to the side.

‘Come with me, I’ll take you to him.’

CHAPTER THREE

MARTIN’S SUITE WAS in the Duchess Wing, about a mile of plush velvet carpet to the east of the grand ballroom. They walked in complete silence along its length until the ornate double doors came into sight.

Nikos had the good sense not to say a word until they got there but he was weighing up what he’d just heard and it sounded nasty. Whatever the guy had done, breaking a promise sounded like the least of it. And accusing her of being a martyr. Nikos had met more than a few of those, but in his experience they tended to be the nice ones.

Maria had never played the martyr. Maria took what she wanted and what other people wanted too…

‘You all right?’ he asked, his hand on the doorknob. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Jacquelyn looked up at him with eyes that told him she was still feeling some pain.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘Thank you.’

Nikos nodded and opened the door of Martin’s suite, ushering her in.

‘I found your friend Jacquelyn. She wants a word.’

Martin looked up, surprised. He was sitting at a fireplace filled with yet another giant arrangement of flowers.

‘Of course. If that’s OK with you, Nikos?’

Nikos stood back and watched her sail right past him and perch on the sofa opposite Martin. Her back was ramrod straight and she turned, flashing Nikos a look that might have said, thank you, but might as easily have said, beat it.

‘Yeah, sure. I was on my way to get my phone. I’ll be back in five. That long enough, do you think?’

Martin nodded vigorously. Jacquelyn didn’t move a muscle.

Nikos closed the door and walked back to his suite.

She was a force of nature, that one. The Ice Queen, but the way she’d blasted that guy was pure fire. It was impressive. And if she pitched like that to Martin he didn’t stand a chance.

Maybe he’d been too harsh on her. She was clearly passionate about her business, and good for her. If he’d been in tough times, the last thing he’d want to do was waste his precious time on small talk with a stranger.

He collected his phone and checked for messages and emails, frowning when he saw yet another one from his accountant, Mark, about the investigation into Maria’s missing assets. He had better get answers from Martin. This whole thing was getting more and more out of hand.

He rounded the corner of the hallway and paused. He put an ear to the door to see if they were still talking.

Martin’s deep voice was making reassuring noises; Jacquelyn seemed to be silent. He knocked on the door and walked in.

‘OK? All wrapped up?’

He didn’t have time to worry if it wasn’t. He had his own issues to deal with now.

‘Nikos. Great timing.’

Martin was facing Jacquelyn. They were both standing, but now Martin was the one who looked imploringly at him, and Jacquelyn’s eyes were bright with—hope?

‘I was just explaining to Jacquelyn that I’m retiring. She’s looking for an investor and I was trying to think of someone else who’d be a good fit. I don’t know if I mentioned but Ariana Bridal goes back quite a long way. They need to modernise, perhaps? Would that be right, Jacquelyn? And so maybe you or your connections would be a…better fit…?’

Nikos shook his head.

‘I’m not looking to invest in anything, Martin. I’m here to sort a problem.’

He held up his phone.

‘A problem that’s giving me a headache. While we were giving out awards, I’ve been getting more messages.’

‘I won’t take up much of your time, Mr Karellis.’

On a heartbeat Jacquelyn turned and walked towards him. She was breathtaking and he realised he was still standing holding his phone in the air. Quickly he pulled his arm down.

‘Time is what I don’t have. Martin?’ he said, meaning, Martin, what the hell are you thinking?

‘Maybe you could squeeze in five minutes with Jacquelyn before you go?’

‘I promise it won’t take longer than five minutes. Ten at the most. Martin understands. This is a business that has so much to offer. We go back decades and we’ve got great plans. We just need a break.’

Nikos looked at Martin, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders as if to say wouldn’t hurt.

With a sigh that he didn’t even know he was going to make, he breathed out an, ‘OK.’

‘Five minutes. If we get this sorted,’ he said to Martin. Then turning to Jacquelyn, ‘Wait in the bar and I’ll send someone.’

She nodded and smiled, and as she breezed past she stopped suddenly and grabbed his hand in both of hers. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I guarantee you won’t regret it.’

He nodded gruffly, but the sensation of his coarse hand in her delicate fingers was sweet and soft and he was happy to linger there for a moment. He smiled, and she smiled back. Light seemed to sparkle in her eyes and her features lit up. The face of an angel.

She squeezed his hand and then let go and headed for the door, trailing behind her delicate scent.

He waited until she had gone and then closed the door. ‘What the hell’s going on, Martin?’ he said. ‘You know I’m under pressure here.’

‘You could have said no,’ said Martin, eyebrows raised.

‘Garbage. You set me up. There’s no way anyone could say no to that.’

‘She’s quite something, isn’t she?’

‘Hmmm,’ said Nikos, ‘but you do know that I won’t be giving her anything other than some hard home truths? I’m not getting mixed up in anything. Especially with a woman who just needs to stand in a corner and whistle and she’ll have men lying at her feet.’

‘She’s not like that at all. She’s from a very good family.’

‘That counts for nothing. Anyway, let’s get on with this. What’s going down? Why the year-long battle with your lawyers? Just what are you trying to prove?’

Martin stood with his back to the fireplace of flowers. The top of his greying head was visible in the ornate mirror. His face was cast in a sickly pallor, and he frowned and clasped his fingers. He was clearly agitated.

‘I’m not trying to prove or disprove anything. My back’s against the wall. All I know is that Maria had some investments. She was involved in something just before she died. I think it was illegal.’

Nikos nodded. No shocks so far…

‘I see. Do we have any clue as to what it was?’

He noticed Martin wringing his hands again.

‘Not exactly. She never confided in me—apart from the garbled message she left the night she died. And I think that’s what the police are following up too.’

Nikos turned away. The night she died…almost the worst night of his life.

He’d turned up at his villa in Greece and found his wife topless in the hot tub with his old man. The night her drug-taking and his old man’s drug-selling had combined in one fatal party. The night Nikos had walked away and never looked back, not even when she ran screaming after him.

No, he didn’t ever want to think about that night again, but it didn’t seem he had any choice.

‘That stuff about the drugs?’ he said quietly. ‘We both know she bought them from my dad.’

‘I think it’s more than that. I think he’s the one behind the other investments. At least, that’s what he’s telling me…’

Nikos looked up sharply.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve had some communication from him.’

Suddenly Martin’s sickly pallor and wringing hands made sense. Communicating with Arthur was never pleasant and Nikos had studiously avoided it for nearly twenty years. He blocked calls, emails, and every security guard knew his father’s face on sight. He’d left Australia to get away from him, and he was damned if he was going to let him into his life in any way, shape or form ever again.

‘OK. Out with it. What does he want?’

Martin cleared his throat.

‘He wants forty million dollars. He says that that night they both went fifty-fifty on some investment she’d bought into in Cayman. He transferred five million dollars and then she… Well, you know what happened.’

‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

Martin turned and leaned his hands on the fireplace.

‘I don’t know what to believe. He says he gave her the money and the company has quadrupled in value. He says she invested it—and he works it out to be forty million that he says he’s owed.’

‘Owed?’

‘By you as her beneficiary. And if you won’t pay up—me.’

‘He’s insane. Did you tell him that she left nothing? Zero? That there is no estate—only trails of debt that lead in a hundred different directions. All I have is what I built myself and, trust me, I don’t have a spare forty million lying around. I’d have noticed if I did. What evidence does he have for any of this?’

Martin shrugged.

‘That’s all I know. But I’m guessing you’ll find out one way or another.’

Nikos laughed mirthlessly.

‘I wouldn’t give him forty cents, never mind forty million dollars. After what he did?’

He’d had enough of all this. He walked to the door, was there in three strides.

‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ said Martin, still hooked around the fireplace.

Nikos turned. ‘What else is there? He’s a lowlife blackmailing piece of scum and if he thinks this is going to result in anything other than me hating him even more, he’s mistaken.’

He opened the door and then closed it again.

‘And I suggest you get yourself some better company to keep, Martin.’

He pulled the door closed and stood in the plush silent hallway, his heart thundering in his ears and his body primed for fight. He had to get a hold of himself or he’d rip someone’s head off. He had to throw everything he had at it. But the fact that it was his old man who had stoked it all to life wasn’t wasted on him. Everything he touched turned poisonous. Every goddamned time.

There would be some grain of truth in that cock-and-bull story because it was too crazy for there not to be. But he wasn’t leaving it up to chance. He was going to go back to the villa and go through the vault. The one place he’d avoided for years might be the one place he’d find what he was looking for.

He speed-dialled his accountant.

‘Mark,’ he said, ‘as soon as you get this I want you to check out every transfer that went into or out of Maria’s accounts around the time she died. I’m looking for an investment in a company registered in the Cayman Islands. It’s probably something that she’ll have buried so it might be hard to find. That’s all I have for now but I think this could be what’s behind the investigation and the letters from Martin Lopez’s solicitors.’

He clicked off the phone as a waiter walked past with a tray of drinks. Parties were still kicking off but he was in no mood to party. What he needed now was silence. And sleep.

He was jet-lagged and pumped with adrenalin, and there wasn’t enough whisky in the whole place to knock him under. He needed to stand in a hot shower and hit the sack.

He pushed open the door of his suite, stepping out of his trousers, removing his jacket, heaving at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with fingers that even now still shook with rage.

In the shower he stood, water from all angles pummelling his back and legs and head. He had to cool it. Be cool. Rein it in, Nikos. Calm it.

He thought of his mother lying in her bed in the nursing home. He thought of her sweet smile in the photograph of them at the beach, and then he thought of the blank, unseeing eyes that had looked at him the day before.

Every step he took was for her. To make her proud, to make all her own suffering worthwhile. He wasn’t going to go under because of his father. He wasn’t going to let Arthur ruin his reputation or his fortune. He was going to fight back.

He turned off the jets of water and dried himself. There was a noise outside. He opened the bathroom door a crack and listened. Someone was battering on the door. Martin?

He walked through the room, kicking up his suit trousers and catching them in his right hand as he opened the door with his left.

But it wasn’t Martin. It was the blonde in the blue dress.

‘Hi,’ he said, confused. Then he slapped his forehead. ‘Damn. Sorry. You’ve been waiting in the bar to see me. I said I’d send for you.’

Her eyes opened like starbursts, falling from his face to his chest and the towel knotted at his hips.

‘Sorry, I was taking a shower.’

She stared at her feet, then down the hall, then at her feet. ‘I am so sorry. I really did not mean to disturb you. It was getting so late… I’ll go back and wait downstairs.’

‘What time is it?’ he said, trying to bury his impatience. This he could do without.

‘Um…’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. My phone ran out of power.’

‘And I clearly don’t have a watch on,’ he said with a cynical chuckle.

She blushed furiously. She was very, very pretty when she blushed. She was very pretty, full stop. He could be in the mood to spend some time with her. That would be better than whisky at taking the edge off, for sure.

‘Come in. I’ll get some clothes on. We can chat now.’

He threw the door back and walked inside, tossing the trousers over a chair in the passing.

‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not.’

He turned around, couldn’t hide his surprise, but she was staring at her feet, her hands clasped in front of her.

‘Much as I want to have a meeting with you, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to come in while you’re undressed.’

He walked to the wardrobe and helped himself to a large white fluffy bathrobe, tied it at his waist.

‘Suit yourself,’ he said.

She looked up. Further along the hallway, noise bubbled out as a door opened. After-parties were probably taking place all over the hotel and she was too prudish to step over the threshold of his room?

‘I hope you understand,’ she said, taking another step back from the doorway. ‘I want to talk about my business—that’s all.’

He almost laughed out loud but when her face didn’t break into a smile, he realised she was completely serious. How about that? She’d secured a meeting with him, but only on her terms. And those terms were…refreshing.

‘Well, that’s fine by me—but I won’t be around for much longer if you still want that five minutes.’

‘Maybe I could come by tomorrow morning before you leave?’

That would be a no, he thought.

With his flight scheduled for ten thirty, he’d be out of here an hour earlier, and the thought of cramming anything else into his head right now was not appealing at all.

But she looked so young, so full of hope. Like a flower opening its petals at the first burst of sunshine. He didn’t really want to crush her, did he?

He nodded.

‘OK. Come for breakfast. Nine.’

The sweet joy that spread across her face was beautiful, like a child’s, and it was amazing how good that made him feel—for a second.

‘Thank you so much. I promise not to waste your time.’

‘We’ll see,’ he said.

But as he put his hand on the door and began to close it, his phone lit up. Mark. More bad news.

CHAPTER FOUR

A SLEEPLESS NIGHT, anxiety and a heatwave. What a killer combo. But at least she had a reason, and a fast-approaching deadline.

Jacquelyn flew around the studio tidying up the mess she’d made over the previous four hours. She was exhausted but she was getting ready to meet Nikos Karellis and for the first time in ages she felt hopeful, optimistic—happy?

It wasn’t what she’d set out to do, but it was even better than finance from Martin Lopez. This was a chance with House, for goodness’ sake! It was the retail sensation that had expanded when everyone else was shutting up shop and disappearing down online rabbit holes.

Just those four brief meetings with Nikos Karellis had lit something up inside her, ignited some hunger that she’d never possessed before. Something had rubbed off and made her want to be part of that world. It was as if he’d sprinkled some of his magic dust and she’d breathed it in, and from the moment she’d closed the door to his suite, she’d been unable to get him out of her mind.

Who are you trying to kid? she thought fleetingly. You saw him nearly naked and you’re as hooked as every other woman. The only difference is that you were afraid to step through the doors to see where it might lead. But you could have…

No. This drive to get it right had nothing to do with any attraction to him as a man. She would never dream of having a business meeting in his suite. This was all about Ariana. It was so important to get it right!

And she would. She’d tossed and turned for a couple of hours, got up at three and then started work. By six she had completely reworked the strategy. She’d created four personas of Ariana Bridal clients. She’d sketched out a cost-benefit analysis, which presupposed cash injection from House. And then she’d gone the extra mile and thrown in some figures based on the concession opportunities that she’d gain linked to the brand. It was all pure speculation and she could be way, way off, but it showed imagination. It showed that she’d done some homework at least.

So she still hadn’t fixed the designs. But that part would come. With cash they could hire a designer again, someone who could really capture what it meant to be an Ariana bride…

She practised her pitch out loud as she poured her fourth coffee and walked with it through to her bedroom to start getting ready. She would show him what she was capable of. She wasn’t some airhead underachiever; she was the heart and soul of this business, and with his cash injection Ariana could be a great little addition to his portfolio.