His For Christmas: Christmas in Da Conti's Bed / His Until Midnight / The Most Expensive Night of Her Life. Nikki LoganЧитать онлайн книгу.
accent.
Alannah saw Niccolò pat the space beside him on the sofa—and she thought it looked a bit like someone encouraging a dog to leap up. But she forced herself to smile as she sat down next to him, unwinding the vivid green pashmina which was looped around her neck.
Alekto turned his startling blue gaze on her. ‘So…Niccolò assures me that you are the person who can replace the existing décor with something a little more imaginative.’ He grimaced. ‘Although frankly, a piece of wood could have produced something more eye-catching than the existing scheme.’
‘I’m confident I can, Mr Sarantos.’
‘No. Parakalo—you must call me Alekto,’ he said, a hint of impatience hardening his voice, before giving a swift smile. ‘I always like to hear a beautiful woman saying my name.’
Beautiful? No woman ever thought she was beautiful and that certainly hadn’t been the effect Alannah had been striving for today. She’d aimed for a functional, rather than a decorative appearance—tying her hair back in a thick plait to stop it being whipped up by the fierce December wind. She had wanted to project style and taste as well as hoping her clothes would be like armour—protecting her from Niccolò’s heated gaze.
Her Japanese-inspired grey dress bore the high neckline which had become her trademark and the fitted waist provided structure. A glittering scarab beetle brooch and funky ankle-boots added the unconventional twists which she knew were necessary to transform the ordinary into something different. It was the detail which counted. Everyone knew that.
‘If you insist,’ she said, with another polite smile. ‘Alekto.’
Niccolò raised his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps you’d like to show Alekto what ideas you have in mind for his apartment, while he concentrates on your undoubted beauty,’ he suggested drily.
Trying to ignore the sarcasm in his voice, Alannah spread out the mood-boards she’d been working on and watched as Alekto began to study them. Squares of contemporary brocade were pasted next to splashes of paint colour, and different swatches of velvet and silk added to the textural diversity she had in mind.
‘We could go either traditional or contemporary,’ she said. ‘But I definitely think you need something a little bolder in terms of colour. The walls would work well in greeny-greys and muted blues—which would provide a perfect backdrop for these fabrics and textiles and reflect your love of the sea.’
‘Did Niccolò tell you that I love the sea?’ questioned Alekto idly.
‘No. I searched your name on the Internet and had a look at your various homes around the world. You do seem rather fond of sea views and that gave me a few ideas.’
‘Enterprising,’ Alekto commented, flicking through each page, before lifting his head. ‘Neh. This is perfect. All of it. You have chosen well, Niccolò. This is a huge improvement. You have pleased me, Alannah—and a woman who pleases a man should always be rewarded. I think I shall take you out for dinner tonight, to thank you.’
‘I’m sure Alannah would love nothing more,’ interjected Niccolò smoothly, ‘but, unfortunately, she is already committed this evening.’
‘Really?’ Alekto raised dark and imperious brows. ‘I’m sure she could cancel whatever it is she is committed to.’
‘Possibly.’ Niccolò shrugged. ‘But only if you are prepared to wait for your apartment to be completed, my friend. Time is of the essence if you expect it to be ready for your new year party. Isn’t that what you wanted?’
The gazes of the two men clashed and Alekto’s eyes suddenly hardened with comprehension.
‘Ah,’ he said softly as he rose to his feet. ‘Suddenly, I begin to understand. You have always been a great connoisseur of beauty, Niccolò. And since good friends do not poach, I shall leave you in peace.’ His blue eyes glittered. ‘Enjoy.’
Alekto’s chauvinistic innuendo took Alannah by surprise but she reminded herself that she was simply working for him—she wasn’t planning on having him as her friend. Keeping her lips clamped into a tight smile, she stood up to let him shake her hand, before Niccolò led him into the outer office.
She waited until the Sicilian had returned and closed the door behind him before she turned on him.
‘What was that all about?’ she questioned quietly.
‘What?’ He walked over to his desk, stabbing at a button on his telephone pad, so that a red light appeared. ‘The fact that your designs pleased him? Alekto is one of the wealthiest men I know. You should be delighted. The patronage of a man like that is more priceless than rubies.’ He looked at her, his eyes curiously flat and assessing. ‘Who knows what kind of opportunities could now come your way, Alannah. Especially since he clearly finds you so attractive.’
‘No, none of that!’ She shook her head—hating the way he was looking at her. Hating the way he was talking about her. ‘I don’t care that he’s rich—other than it means I will have a very generous budget to work with. And I don’t care whether or not he finds me attractive. I’d like it if for once we could keep my looks out of it, since I’m supposed to be here on merit.’ She stared at him. ‘What I’m talking about is you telling him I was busy and couldn’t have dinner with him tonight.’
‘Did you want to have dinner with him?’
‘That’s beside the point.’
He slanted her a look. ‘I’m not sure what your point is.’
‘That I don’t want you or anyone else answering for me because I like to make my own decisions. And…’ she hesitated ‘…you have no right to be territorial about me.’
‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘I realise that.’
She narrowed her eyes warily. ‘You mean you’re agreeing with me?’
He shrugged. ‘For a man to behave in a territorial way towards a woman implies that she is his. That she has given herself to him in some way. And you haven’t, have you, Alannah?’ The eyes which a moment ago had looked so flat now gleamed like polished jet. ‘Of course, that is something which could be changed in a heartbeat. We both know that.’
Alannah stiffened as his gaze travelled over her and she could feel her throat growing dry. And wasn’t it crazy that, no matter how much her mind protested, she couldn’t seem to stop her body from responding to his lazy scrutiny. She found herself thinking how easy it would be to go along with his suggestion. To surrender to the ache deep inside her and have him take all her frustration away. All she had to do was smile—a quick, complicit smile—and that would be the only green light he needed.
And then what?
She swallowed. A mindless coupling with someone who’d made no secret of his contempt for her? An act which would inevitably leave him triumphant and her, what? Empty, that was what.
A lifetime of turning down sexual invitations meant that she knew exactly how to produce the kind of brisk smile which would destabilise the situation without causing a scene. But for once, it took a real effort.
‘I think not,’ she said, scooping up her pashmina from the sofa. ‘I have a self-protective instinct which warns me off intimacy with a certain kind of man, and I’m afraid you’re one of them. The things I require from you are purely practical, Niccolò. I need a list of craftsmen—painters and decorators—who you use on your properties and who I assume will be available to work for me—and to work very quickly if we’re to get this job in on time.’
The impatient wave of his hand told her that painters and decorators were of no interest to him. ‘Speak to Kirsty about it.’
‘I will.’ She hitched the strap of her bag further over her shoulder. ‘And if that’s everything—I’ll get going.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll drive you home.’
‘That