The Millionaire's Daughter. Sophie Weston

looked perfectly solemn but Annis knew he was laughing.

      Annis’s doubts disappeared. So her first suspicions had been right after all. She was oddly disappointed. She did not want him to be the sort of man to date a millionaire’s daughter, sight unseen.

      ‘Oh, yes?’ she said freezingly.

      He was bland. ‘Meet another workaholic.’

      And he held out his hand again.

      To her own annoyance, Annis found herself taking it as if he had mesmerised her. It was not the light, social brush of the fingers of that first handshake either. It was a purposeful grasp, as if he were giving her a message.

      Startled, she looked down. His hand was tanned and strong. It looked as if he had been working outdoors somewhere in the sun. Her ringless fingers were as pale as water engulfed in his clasp, and looked about as weak, Annis thought in disgust. Was that his message? Indignant she lifted her head and glared right into those strange eyes.

      There was a moment’s silence.

      Then, ‘Yeah,’ he drawled. As if she had asked him a question. Or as if she were a strange girl he was sizing up across a fairground or the floor of a nightclub. Sizing her up, what was more, with lazy appreciation.

      Appreciation? Ridiculous. He had to be mocking her.

      Annis tugged her hand away in pure reflex.

      She half turned away and spoke at random. ‘If you’re a genuine workaholic, what are you doing at a party? There’s at least another four hours’ working time left tonight.’

      It wasn’t a very good joke and Konstantin Vitale didn’t laugh.

      ‘I could ask you the same thing,’ he said slowly.

      Annis was curt. ‘Family.’ She was not going to admit that her stepmother had got her here under false pretences, though. It made her look a fool. So she added lightly, ‘Lynda’s dinner parties are a three-line whip. Besides, I haven’t seen my father since Carew’s half-year results.’

      Konstantin Vitale glanced across at his host, currently holding forth by the fireplace. His mouth curled.

      ‘You work for Carew’s? I thought your stepmother said you were independent.’

      Annis bristled. ‘I am. I still take an interest in the family firm.’

      The sardonic look deepened. ‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?’

      He doesn’t like me, she thought. Well, that was mutual.

      ‘Families do usually take an interest in each other’s affairs.’

      ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ he said dryly.

      Annis narrowed her eyes at him challengingly. ‘No family, Mr Vitale?’

      ‘None that I’d discuss my financial results with.’

      Annis saw the chance for revenge.

      ‘Could this be why you’re a workaholic?’ she asked sweetly.

      He appeared to consider the question. ‘Nothing better to do with my time?’ he interpreted. He shook his head decisively. ‘No, it’s not that. You see, unlike you, I do date.’

      The riposte was so unexpected that for a moment Annis could not think of a thing to say. Then she saw the devilish glint of laughter in the green eyes. And was swamped by a blush.

      Oh, boy, what a restful Friday evening this was turning out to be!

      Annis tried to ignore the heat in her face and the nasty sensation that a master had beaten her at her own game.

      ‘Each to his own,’ she said crisply, preparing to turn away.

      He stopped her by propping himself against the wall and barring her escape route.

      ‘I so agree. And what is your own, Annis Carew? Are you just playing at business, propped up by family money? Is that what you’re doing here? Checking that the subsidy will keep coming?’

      Annis was so indignant she forgot the dying blush.

      ‘I’m here to network,’ she said furiously and quite untruthfully. ‘In my line of work you seize every opportunity.’

      She comforted herself that lots of management consultants did network a great deal. Just because she and her business partner Roy did not choose to, that didn’t undermine the general principle.

      ‘Plenty of people worth networking with,’ agreed Konstantin Vitale.

      How did he manage to sound as if he had found a slug in his salad?

      Annis conveniently ignored the fact that when she’d arrived this evening her heart had sunk at the sight of all these dauntingly impressive people. ‘Lucky me,’ she said brightly.

      Konstantin Vitale looked bored. ‘And what is this work that you live for?’

      ‘I’m a management consultant.’

      ‘Impressive.’ His voice was grave and his face did not change by a muscle.

      So why did she think he was mocking her?

      Annis set her teeth and decided to fight fire with fire. ‘And what to you do when you’re working on my father’s new building?’

      He gave a soft laugh. ‘I keep Carew in line.’

      Annis was genuinely startled. ‘What?’

      He repeated it obligingly.

      Clever, she thought. Her father’s friends called him Tony; his subordinates called him Mr Carew. Konstantin Vitale was making a point. Not an employee, then. And if he was a professional adviser, he was not a very respectful one.

      Annis bristled. ‘Forgive me if I say that I find it difficult to imagine.’

      ‘Too right,’ said Konstantin Vitale blandly. ‘He’s stubborn as hell.’

      Most people who worked with Tony Carew were impressed by him. If they weren’t impressed they did not last very long.

      ‘I take it that your professional relationship with my father is on its last legs?’ said Annis

      He was surprised. ‘No. Why? He wants the best. I am the best. He just needs a bit of education to appreciate it, that’s all.’

      Annis blinked. She found she had nothing to say in the face of such superb assurance. Out of my depth again.

      ‘Could be it runs in the family,’ he murmured provocatively.

      Annis was instantly suspicious. ‘What does?’

      ‘A need to be challenged.’

      She met his eyes in fulminating silence. He raised one eyebrow. He was amused, confident and—quite temporarily—ready to duel with her. Oh, that Look! Annis could have stamped her foot with frustration.

      She stopped pretending that she did not know he was trying to wind her up.

      ‘No chance,’ she said curtly. ‘Forget it, Mr Vitale. I not only don’t date, I don’t play any other silly games either. Now, I must find my stepmother. Excuse me.’

      Annis was still seething when she tracked Lynda down. Her stepmother kissed her on both cheeks, all wide-eyed innocence.

      ‘So lovely to see you, darling. I saw your father was looking after you. How did you get on with lovely Kosta?’

      Annis did not answer that directly. ‘He’s tonight’s people’s choice, is he?’ she said grimly.

      Lynda fingered her fabulously simple, fabulously expensive gold collar nervously. She avoided Annis’s eyes.

      ‘Your father asked him. They’re doing business together, I think.’

      ‘And