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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?
The desire to seriously hurt him grew and grew inside her and she curled her fists into her palms and understood for the first time in her life what it was like to want revenge. For the first time she had some understanding of what had driven her mother to urge her to seek justice. She was so blisteringly angry with him, so insulted and hurt by his careless, arrogant behaviour that she wanted to make him suffer.
She sank down on to the chair, still holding the newspaper as she tried to calm herself down. Tried to remember who she was. She was a respected archaeologist. She was an educated woman—a pacifist who believed totally in the use of negotiation as a means of solving disputes. She didn’t believe in ‘an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth’. She didn’t believe in vengeance.
So why did she suddenly want to find a way of hurting Nikos Kyriacou the way he’d hurt her sister?
‘Go home.’ Helen stepped forward and prised the newspaper from her numb fingers. ‘Really, I think you need a few days off. You can’t expect to get over this in a hurry and I’m sure that seeing Mr Kyriacou has made everything seem very raw.’
‘Yes. Yes, it has.’ Still slightly dazed by the onslaught of emotions that battered her brain, Angie switched off her computer and rose to her feet with a distracted nod of her head. ‘I need some fresh air. I don’t feel like me any more. But I want to keep that newspaper. Can I have it, please?’
Reluctantly Helen handed it to her and urged her towards the door. ‘Go and see the doctor. Take a sedative or something. Don’t come back until you’re ready.’
Hardly aware of what she was doing, Angie pushed the newspaper into her bag and walked up the stone steps. She elbowed her way through crowds of the public admiring the dinosaur exhibition at the front of the museum and pushed through the revolving doors into the street.
Oblivious to the curious glances of passers-by, she walked in a state of blind misery, her thoughts on her sister. Tiffany had been so young and naïve. Being given the necklace must have meant so much to her. Whereas to him it had meant nothing at all
Without even realising what she was doing, Angie lifted a hand to the jewel that was safely hidden under her roll-neck top. Wearing it gave her a comfort that she couldn’t explain, even to herself. Just knowing that she was wearing something that Tiffany had worn made her feel better.
It started to rain, but Angie didn’t notice. How had Tiffany felt when she’d realised that Nikos Kyriacou had no intention of marrying her? How had she felt when she’d discovered that the relationship had meant nothing? Had Nikos Kyriacou been seeing other women when he was with her sister?
Tears started to fall but her face was so wet from the rain that no one even noticed. They were too busy trying to escape from the weather to notice her distress.
She walked home on automatic pilot and slotted her key into the front door with a shaking hand.
The first thing she saw as she walked into the house was a half full glass of whisky on the kitchen table. Scraping her soaking wet hair away from her face, she lifted the offending glass and stared at it in despair. Her mother had been drinking again. She was going to pour it away, along with all the alcohol in the house.
The doorbell rang and Angie glanced towards the sink and then gave an impatient sigh and turned towards the front door instead, the glass still in her hand. It would be the neighbours, checking on her mother and she didn’t want them to worry.
Wondering how her life had deteriorated to this level, she yanked open the front door.
Nikos Kyriacou stood on the doorstep, an expression of simmering impatience on his cold, handsome face. ‘I will come straight to the point. I have tried to tackle this subject with as much tact and sensitivity as I am able but you refuse to meet me even halfway so the time has come to stop playing games.’ His gaze fastened on the glass in her hand and the impatience in his eyes changed to incredulity. ‘Clearly the use of alcohol as a crutch runs in the family.’
Standing in the doorway holding a glass of whisky wasn’t exactly the impression of herself that she would have chosen to give another person, but his judgemental tone and the look of contempt in his eyes squashed any feelings of embarrassment that she might otherwise have suffered. The tension and pressure had been building all day and something inside her suddenly snapped. ‘Tact and sensitivity? When did you ever show tact and sensitivity? Certainly not in my hearing. Given that you are the cause of all our current problems, I advise you to leave now while your limbs are still attached to your body.’
Thick, dark lashes lowered, shielding the expression in his eyes. ‘By all means blame me if it makes you feel better,’ he drawled in a soft tone, ‘but we both know that I can hardly be held responsible for your sister’s drink problem.’
‘No?’ Her misery and grief turned to furious anger. ‘My sister had the misfortune to spend time with you, Mr Kyriacou. That in itself is surely sufficient justification for alcoholic support. Having met you and spent time with you, I can understand all too easily why she would have found herself in need of that support.’ Her tone was acid. ‘I should imagine it was the only way my poor sister could get through the day. If I were in the unfortunate position of being forced into your company on a regular basis, I too would drink to excess, I can assure you.’
His eyes moved slowly over her hair and face and she was suddenly uncomfortably aware of the contrast between her soaking wet, ultra ordinary appearance and the svelte, perfectly groomed woman she’d seen him with in the newspaper.
His smile was faintly contemptuous as if the mere thought of her being in his company was laughable. ‘There is no way you would ever find yourself spending time with me on a regular basis. You are not the sort of woman I would ever willingly seek out.’ The bored derision in his tone was deliberately insulting and she gave a soft gasp of outrage.
‘I think you’d better go.’ She started to close the door, but Nikos Kyriacou planted a foot inside the hallway and shouldered his way through.
‘I’ve already told you, I’m tired of playing games.’ He pushed the door shut with the palm of his hand, his expression grim as he stared at her. ‘Once you have returned my property, I will leave.’
‘Your broke my sister’s heart. You promised to marry her.’
His voice cool and unemotional, Nikos took a step backwards. ‘I never would have married someone like your sister. It is laughable to think I would have considered it.’
Angie