Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled with Rubies

‘My Tiffany had that round her neck when she died? It’s the Brandizi diamond.’

Angie stared at her mother in astonishment. ‘You know about it?’

‘Of course. I’ve seen it round the neck of Aristotle Kyriacou’s wife. Eleni, I think her name is. She doesn’t often wear it in public because of its value.’

And it had been sitting in their attic unprotected. Angie felt faint at the thought. What if they’d been burgled? Not that any local burglar would have been expecting to find one of the world’s most famous and valuable diamonds in the attic of a terraced house in North London. She almost laughed at the thought.

‘Well…’ She closed her hand around the diamond, unable to put it down. Holding it somehow gave her a connection to her dead sister. ‘I have to return it to the Kyriacou family.’ She said the words for her own benefit as much as her mother’s. To remind herself that it was stupid to attach sentimental value to a jewel that hadn’t even really belonged to her sister.

But she didn’t want to give it away. They had so little of Tiffany left. The necklace was the last thing she’d worn and that made it almost a part of her.

‘We should keep it.’

Angie’s gaze softened with sympathy and understanding. ‘Because giving it away feels like losing part of Tiffany?’

‘No.’ Her mother shot her an impatient glance. ‘Because keeping it feels like getting our own back on the bastards.’

Angie winced. Despite years of practice, she’d never understand her mother. ‘Don’t be silly, Mum. It doesn’t belong to us.’

Angie’s gaze slid from her mother’s hard expression to the glittering diamond that lay in the palm of her hand. It was hard not to remember the words that Nikos Kyriacou had spoken: It has traditionally been passed down to offer as a gift to the woman of his heart. And yet he clearly hadn’t loved Tiffany at all.

‘I can’t believe my Tiffany was wearing that necklace.’ Her mother’s tone was reverential and Angie felt a rush of exasperation mingled with a total lack of comprehension. In her opinion, her mother had a totally misplaced sense of pride.

‘Nikos Kyriacou clearly gave it to her in return for sex, Mum,’ she mumbled as she stood up and negotiated her way down the ladder that led from the attic. ‘I don’t really think that’s anything to boast about.’

‘It’s given by the man to the woman he intends to marry.’

Angie stopped halfway down the ladder. ‘Pardon?’

‘The diamond. It’s given as a gift by the man to the woman he intends to marry. I read it in an interview with Kyriacou’s wife. So if my Tiff had it round her neck, then that’s proof that Nikos Kyriacou intended to marry her.’

‘Nikos Kyriacou had no intention of marrying anyone,’ Angie said wearily. ‘He isn’t the marrying kind. He’s exactly like Dad. The sort of man who moves from one woman to another without care, thought or emotional involvement of any sort. He never would have married Tiffany.’

‘Then he should be taught a lesson!’

‘Now you’re being ridiculous.’ Angie reached the bottom of the ladder and helped her mother down. ‘Kyriacou is a billionaire in a league of his own. According to that article you showed me a few months ago, he owns five jets, nine properties, including his own island in Greece. His own island, Mum!” She said the words slowly to emphasise her point. ‘He’s considered a genius in business, you told me that yourself. Now look at us. We live in North London in a terraced house, most of which the bank owns.’

Her mother’s lip wobbled. ‘It isn’t my fault that your father frittered away all our money on women and then went bankrupt.’

Angie sighed. ‘I know you’re not to blame, Mum. All I’m saying is that we’re hardly in a position to teach a man like Nikos Kyriacou a lesson, no matter how much we might like to.’ Especially when I’m just an archaeologist and you’re a lush, she thought to herself.

‘We have his diamond.’

Angie frowned, failing to see the relevance of that statement. ‘You’re not seriously suggesting we keep it? Even if we wanted to, that wouldn’t be an option. Legally, it belongs to the Kyriacou family. And they have the money to buy all the lawyers they need to reclaim it. We don’t have a decent argument for keeping it.’

She had a ridiculous vision of herself standing up in court telling dark-suited lawyers that she wanted to keep the jewel because it was the last thing that had touched her sister’s skin. Even she knew that such a sentiment would attract nothing but derision.

Her mother’s eyes were suddenly hard. ‘That man should be taught a lesson! He destroyed my Tiffany and he should pay! He’s Greek, isn’t he?’ Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. ‘Revenge! The only language these Greeks understand is revenge. You should know that—it’s in all those stupid stories you read.’

‘Myths, Mum. They’re called myths.’

Her mother gave a snort of derision. ‘Whatever.’

‘They’re stories, Mum, not real life. In real life people like us don’t go round seeing revenge.’ It was time to give the doctor a call to discuss her mother’s drinking. ‘I’m going to contact him and give the diamond back. It’s the right thing to do. Go back to bed, Mum. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Nikos lounged at the back of the lecture theatre, watching through narrowed eyes as the students poured into the room, jostling and chatting, clutching bags and computers ready for the lecture.

Without exception, all the women cast interested and hopeful glances in his direction but he ignored their lingering attention and focused his gaze at the front of the room.

He was waiting for Dr Littlewood.

Their encounter the previous day had left him angrier and more frustrated than he could ever remember feeling.

It wasn’t that he’d ever expected the meeting to be an easy one. He hadn’t. It was more that he was unaccustomed to finding himself questioned or challenged and Angie Littlewood had done both.

In fact she’d goaded him to such a degree that he’d been on the point of revealing the entire truth about her sister and only monumental self-discipline had prevented him from doing anything so foolish. For a start, it was obvious that Angie Littlewood approved of her sister’s behaviour but, most importantly, revealing the truth risked bringing nothing but misery on his family. If Angelina Littlewood took the story to the press then the whole distasteful, sordid mess would be exposed. And that had happened once before with disastrous consequences—

A horrifying vision flashed into his brain and he dismissed it with ruthless determination. It wasn’t going to happen again, he promised himself. He was going to prevent it. This time he was in control of the situation and he had every intention of remaining in control.

Once the Brandizi diamond was back in his possession, the whole ugly chapter could be closed. His contact with the Littlewood family would be over and, as far as he was concerned, that moment couldn’t come soon enough. It was true that the two sisters were entirely different but the elder was every bit as unappealing as the younger, albeit for different reasons.

And, right now, she was late for her own lecture.

As a man who valued and practised punctuality, he was contemplating the clock on the wall with brooding disapproval when the door opened and Angie Littlewood hurried in, juggling a pile of files, wisps of hair escaping from the clip at the back of her head.

She looked flustered and out of breath and he noticed that her hand was shaking as she stepped up to the lectern and switched on the microphone. ‘I apologise for being slightly late—’ Her voice had a smoky, feminine quality that dragged across Nikos’s nerve-endings and sent a stab of elemental lust through his loins.

Irritated and surprised by the strength of his reaction, Nikos shifted in his seat in an attempt to ease the insistent throb of his body. Exactly why he should suddenly experience such a powerful reaction to a woman like Angie Littlewood escaped him. She was so far removed from his usual choice of companion that it was laughable. He was used to women who revelled in their femininity whereas Dr Littlewood seemed totally unaware, even indifferent, to the possibilities of her sex. She was wearing a plain roll-neck top under her jacket and the same plain navy blue trousers that she’d had on the previous day. It was the attire of a woman who dressed for practicality and convenience rather than allure.

If he hadn’t already established her relationship with Tiffany, he would never have believed that they were sisters.

And yet there were similarities, he mused, his eyes resting on the unmistakeably generous swell of her breasts and the dip and curve of her tiny waist. She lifted an arm to emphasise something on a slide and he saw that her wrist was slender and her profile remarkably delicate. Part of Tiffany’s appeal had been her external appearance of fragility and it appeared that her sister shared that essentially feminine characteristic.

Remembering the way she’d challenged him during their previous meeting, he gave a smile of derision. There had been nothing fragile about the way she’d behaved. And her defence of her sister’s indefensible behaviour was nothing short of distasteful.

Realising that the audience around him were listening with rapt attention, he forced himself to listen to what she was saying and found himself surprisingly absorbed in her lecture on classical Greek pottery. She knew her subject, he thought to himself as he watched her breathe life and meaning into the past as she talked.

She had a few artefacts on the table in front of her and she used these and her slides to illustrate her lecture. She spoke fluently, without notes, clearly passionate about her subject, unaware of the passage of time or the slow descent of her hair from the clip. Each time she turned and gestured, the knot slipped a little more until finally her hair escaped its bonds and cascaded over her shoulders. Amazing colour, Nikos thought to himself as he watched her scoop it into her hand and continue to talk, her almost breathless enthusiasm holding the entire auditorium in enraptured silence.

Only as she paused to draw breath did she finally glance at the clock. ‘I’ve run over as usual! That’s it for today—I have notes here if anyone wants them—and don’t forget that there are more examples in the museum on the second floor if you have time to look before Friday.’ Her hair slid forward over her shoulders in a tumbled mass of fiery, flaming curls and Nikos observed the transformation with masculine fascination. She no longer looked like a serious archaeologist. Instead she looked like—a woman?

And yet there was no doubt that she considered her hair to be nothing more than an annoyance as she reached for the clip to fasten it back from her face but was then distracted by a student who approached to ask her a question.

She immediately forgot her hair and became absorbed in the discussion. Another student approached and, by the time they reluctantly allowed her to stop talking, the rest of the lecture theatre had emptied.

He stood up and strolled down the steps towards her, watching as she reached for the files on the desk and gathered them up. Only as she turned did she finally notice Nikos standing in front of her.

‘I find it hard to believe that you’ve suddenly developed an interest in Greek pottery of the classical era.’ Her tone was brittle as she clutched the files to her chest, clearly shocked to see him. ‘So I assume you’re here for another reason, Mr Kyriacou.’ Behind her glasses, her blue eyes seemed more luminous than ever and he found himself wanting to rip off the glasses and study her face properly.

‘Let’s not play games, Dr Littlewood.’ Angered by an impulse that he didn’t understand, he walked forward and picked up a pot that lay on the desk, turning it over in his hands. ‘Very pretty. A good copy of a psykter—a red figured wine cooler. It would have been filled with wine and floated in ice cold water until the wine was cool enough to drink. About 500 BC?’ He saw surprise in her eyes.

‘You clearly paid attention in the lecture.’

‘I’m Greek,’ he reminded her softly, returning the pot to its place on the table. ‘I’m interested in the heritage of my country. And also that of my family.’ He let the words hang in the air for a moment and saw her chin lift.

‘If you’re referring to the necklace, then I should warn you that I haven’t yet had a chance to look for it.’

‘You’re lying.’ His eyes rested on her nose and he noticed the tiny freckles that danced over her pale skin. ‘The first thing you would have done when you arrived home last night was look for it.’ The faint colour that touched her cheeks told him that his assessment was accurate.

‘The first thing I did when I arrived home last night was care for my mother. She is extremely unwell and has been since we received the news of Tiffany’s death. Searching through my sister’s belongings is a low priority.’

‘In that case, give me the suitcase and I will conduct the search myself.’

Her eyes flashed with anger and contempt. ‘Your schedule is of absolutely no interest to me whatsoever and if you come within a million miles of our house, Mr Kyriacou, I will call the police.’

Unaccustomed to being continually challenged, Nikos felt his frustration rise. ‘I’m ordering you to give me the diamond.’

‘And I don’t respond to orders, especially from people I don’t respect.’

Swiftly he changed tack. ‘If you’re thinking, even for a moment, that you can make money out of this situation then let me tell you right away that you’re in for a severe disappointment. The diamond does not belong to you or your late sister. If you are planning to sell the jewel for money then it’s only fair to warn you that it would prove impossible to find a buyer. The stone is so famous that no reputable dealer will touch it and its value is incalculable.’

‘You still think this is about money?’ She threw her head back and her hair poured over her shoulders like tongues of flame. ‘Is that all you think about? How very sad your life must be!’ The raw blaze of anger in her eyes caught his attention and he watched her transform in front of his eyes. From cool academic to passionate woman.

She was still dressed in the boring, sober suit but Nikos no longer noticed what she was wearing. He was transfixed by the burning fire in her unusual blue eyes and by the almost feral wildness of her hair.

Accustomed to women who existed from one blow-dry to the next, women who discouraged any activity which might disturb razor-sharp perfection, Nikos suddenly had an inexplicable desire to sink his hand into those wild fiery curls and bring his mouth down hard on hers. Just how far did that wildness of hers extend?

Seriously disturbed by the entirely inappropriate direction of his own thoughts, he took a step backwards just to make absolutely sure that he wasn’t tempted to touch her. ‘It isn’t about money. It’s about regaining something which is rightfully mine.’

‘You are an insult to the human race!’ She stepped off the podium and stalked towards him, her anger a live and powerful force. ‘Six months ago my sister died falling from your balcony and we heard nothing from you. Nothing! And now you have the gross insensitivity to turn up here asking for a piece of jewellery. Do you have no compassion? Do you have no sense of human decency?’ Visibly shaken by her own outburst, she took several deep breaths and he found himself staring at her mouth, captivated by the soft, ripe curve of her lower lip. The slight fullness gave an impression of sensuality while a tiny dimple in the corner of her mouth hinted at vulnerability.

The atmosphere throbbed with tension and Nikos forced himself to remember that Angie Littlewood was a woman to whom sensuality was entirely foreign. ‘The very first words I spoke to you were of condolence.’

She was standing right in front of him now, chin lifted, eyes blazing into his. A faint scent teased his nostrils and he wondered for a moment whether she was woman enough to enjoy perfume and then decided that what he could smell was probably her shampoo.

‘Words are nothing without the appropriate feeling behind them and we both know that you are entirely devoid of feeling.’ She spat the words angrily and he ground his teeth.

‘I make excuses for your behaviour because I know you are distressed about your sister.’

She gasped. ‘My behaviour? I’m not the one who seduced and misled an innocent young girl—who made her so utterly miserable she drank herself into oblivion and then fell to her death. I think if we’re examining anyone’s behaviour here it should be yours but the difference is that I’m not prepared to excuse you. You are a ruthless, self-seeking, egocentric bastard—’ She stopped as she said the word and lifted a hand to her mouth, shock and confusion on her pale face. ‘I—I’m sorry,’ she began stiffly and he raised an eyebrow, wondering why she felt the need to apologise.

‘Sorry for what? For using the same language that your sister frequently used?’

Colour touched her cheeks. ‘We’re not—I mean, I’m not—’ She gave a faint frown as if she were trying to remember the point of their argument. ‘You think of nothing but money and possessions and you need to be taught that there are other things that matter. I’m not prepared to give you your jewel.’ Her voice cracked. ‘It was the last thing she was wearing. I can’t—why would you need it, anyway? It was supposed to be given to the woman of your heart and we both know that you don’t have a heart, Mr Kyriacou.’

Not prepared to give him the diamond?

Nikos stared at her in a state of stunned disbelief. It hadn’t occurred to him, even for a moment, that she’d seriously refuse to hand over the jewel.

Shaken by the less than welcome knowledge that he’d underestimated an opponent for the first time in his life, Nikos stood frozen to the spot, watching as she strode from the room and slammed the door so hard that the sound echoed round the abandoned lecture theatre for several seconds.

Nikos stared after her, his brain still filled with the vision of flashing blue eyes and fiery red hair.

What, he thought to himself, was he going to do now?

Chapter Three

WHAT on earth had her sister ever seen in the man?

Still shocked and shaking from the unexpected violence of her own temper, Angie twisted her hair on top of her head and secured it with a vicious stab of the clip.

If she was honest, she was more than a little horrified by the strength of her own reaction. If she’d been asked to describe her character in two words she would have chosen ‘calm’ and ‘logical’. But where had logic been today when she’d stood in front of Nikos Kyriacou and called him a bastard? And as for calm—

She cringed at the memory. She’d raised her voice and used language that she considered to be extremely distasteful. She’d sounded more like her mother than herself. But maybe her mother was right, in this instance. Nikos Kyriacou had behaved badly. It didn’t matter which way you looked at it, the evidence was there. He’d dated her sister—the gift of the necklace supported her sister’s claim that he’d been in love with her and intending to marry her, so there could be little doubt that she was telling the truth on that score—and then the relationship had ended. And the Greek’s sole purpose in life was now to retrieve the necklace he’d given away so carelessly. Ready for the next woman, no doubt.

Angie gritted her teeth. She was the first to admit that relationships weren’t exactly her forte, but it was obvious to her that Nikos Kyriacou had never intended to marry her sister and his track record supported that assumption. According to her mother, he never dated a woman for longer than three weeks. Clearly her sister had been severely misled.

Angie pushed her files into her bag and then lifted a hand to her chest just to reassure herself that the diamond was still there, safely tucked under her jumper.

Perhaps it had been foolish to wear it, but wearing it had made her feel closer to Tiffany and it wasn’t as if anyone could see it. Under her jumper was probably as safe a place as any until she gave it back to the Kyriacou family.

She should have done it today, of course. She should have reached inside her boring roll-neck jumper, undone the clasp and given him the diamond. And that would have been the end of it, at least for him. But for her—

She just couldn’t bear to part with something that Tiffany had worn.

Which was ridiculous, she thought miserably as she pushed open the door and walked up the stairs that led to the exit, because she could hardly go through life wearing high neck jumpers to conceal a priceless diamond. She was going to have to stop being so sentimental and give it back. It didn’t matter that touching a jewel that Tiffany had worn somehow brought comfort. She was going to have to find her comfort in other ways.

It was time to do the right thing.

Time to return the jewel.

‘Are you all right? I wanted to check on you.’ Helen Knightly hovered in the doorway and Angie looked up from her computer and adjusted her glasses.

Two days had passed and she’d heard nothing from Nikos Kyriacou but, oddly enough, his silence was more disturbing than his presence. She didn’t trust him. ‘I’m fine, thank you. Honestly.’

‘I’m sorry about the other day.’ Her boss was clutching a newspaper. ‘When he arrived in my office demanding to see you, I tried to suggest that he make an appointment but he didn’t take no for an answer.’

Angie gave a wan smile. ‘No. He doesn’t appear to be very good at hearing that word.’

‘I suppose it was nice that he wanted to come and apologise in person.’

Under the cover of her desk, Angie’s toes curled in her shoes. ‘Absolutely.’ She had no intention of revealing that the purpose of Nikos Kyriacou’s visit had had little to do with contrition and everything to do with greed.

‘It must have been hard for him too, losing a girlfriend.’ Helen Knightly sighed and held out the newspaper she was holding. ‘I think you ought to see this before anyone else shows you. It’s a little upsetting, I suppose, but you have to remember that he’s obviously trying to get on with his life just as you are, which has to be a good thing. How’s your mother?’

‘She’s fine,’ Angie said absently, taking the paper with a flicker of disquiet. A little upsetting? What exactly would be in a newspaper that she would find upsetting? ‘What do you mean, “he’s obviously trying to get on with his life”?’

‘Page two story: “Greek tycoon seeks consolation after villa tragedy.”’

Her mouth dry and her heart pounding, Angie opened the paper with shaking hands and found herself faced with a large picture of Nikos Kyriacou emerging from a nightclub in close contact with a tall willowy blonde.

Angie stared down at the paper, a dangerous cocktail of emotions mingling inside her. Shock, pain and anger tangled together and she dropped the paper on to the desk and sucked in a deep breath to try and calm herself.

Was that why he was so desperate to repossess the jewel? So that he could give it to another woman?

Helen made an apologetic sound. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have shown you—’

‘You were right to show me.’ As if in a trance, Angie stood up, trying to clear her thoughts and control herself. Feeling slightly dazed, she looked at Helen, her expression bewildered. ‘Have you ever thought you knew yourself really well, only to discover that you’re not the person you thought you were?’

Helen’s expression was puzzled. ‘Well, no, I don’t suppose I have, but you’ve suffered a severe shock, my dear, had a terrible loss to cope with. It’s natural that you should be feeling strange and a little unsettled, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

‘I don’t feel strange or unsettled.’ She felt—furious. Bitterly angry that Nikos Kyriacou could be allowed to brush off the matter of her sister’s death as nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Absolutely boiling mad that he would happily date another woman in full view of the press without so much as a flicker of conscience or the slightest concession to decency. Had he given any thought at all to what such a picture would do to her already grieving mother?