From Dirt to Diamonds

His eyes rested on her. ‘Still the appearance of virtue. Did it help you reel in your captive lordling? How did you meet him?’ he asked conversationally.

‘It’s none of your business and I won’t discuss him with you.’

Angelos stilled. ‘Your nerve is breathtaking.’

Thea set down her water with a jolt. ‘You don’t really imagine,’ she bit out, ‘that I care a fig about what I say to you, do you? I won’t discuss Giles with you, period. He’s a good, decent man, and because of you I’ve had to hurt him badly!’

His eyes darkened. ‘Better that than marrying you!’

Emotion bit. She could feel it in her throat. It should be anger—anger at yet another insult. But it wasn’t anger.

‘I’d have made him a good wife,’ she said tightly. Too tightly—as if her throat had suddenly narrowed. She felt a sudden ludicrous sting in the back of her eyes at his naked contempt. Even as it happened she fought it. She wouldn’t, wouldn’t feel what she did—she wouldn’t feel, dear God, of all things, hurt.

She fought it back—fought it down. Recovered herself in the way she always had. By refusing to let anyone put her down. Refusing to acknowledge the hit.

Her imperviousness seemed only to rile him more.

‘All that classy gloss, Kat,’ he said softly, a taunt in his eyes, ‘and it’s all just fake. A cultivated act. A veneer. You’d never have carried it off—you’d have given yourself away, reverted to type.’

His eyes were resting on her, speculative, assessing. And suddenly, through the tightness in her throat, Thea could see what he was doing. He wanted to see her do just that—’revert to type’. And in that instant she knew exactly how she would retaliate from now on.

By not retaliating. By being Thea, not Kat—never Kat. She felt a surge of venomous satisfaction go through her.

‘Nothing to say, Kat?’

She made no answer. Just tightened her lips and stared back at him. His eyes held hers—dark, penetrating. They narrowed very slightly even as he held her gaze.

‘You defy me, don’t you, Kat?’ It was said almost contemplatively, almost curiously, as if she were a species of insect that was behaving anomalously. He took another leisurely mouthful of wine. ‘But then,’ he continued in that same tone of voice, ‘you always did, didn’t you? Right from that very first encounter, when you pushed past me at the entrance to this very hotel …’ He set the glass back down on the linen tablecloth. ‘Tell me, is it stupidity that makes you like this?’

Thea’s fingers curled around her water glass. One tightening more and it would surely break. She resisted. She tilted her chin slightly, feeling the pearl drop earrings move slightly—pearls she had bought with her own money, her own efforts, her own relentless determination and hard work to achieve what she had. Climbing up from the nothing she had been born with into the sunlit lands above.

‘No,’ she answered, her voice deliberately careless. ‘It’s indifference, that’s all. Complete indifference.’

The expression on his face changed. Something flashed in his eyes, then it was gone. She had seen what it was, though—anger. Oh, yes, the almighty Angelos Petrakos, with all his power, didn’t like being told that!

He spoke again, his deep voice almost a drawl. A drawl that seemed to drag across her skin. ‘Indifference? Oh, no, Kat. It’s not indifference you feel towards me. It’s anger because you can’t manipulate me.’

Her eyes flashed, and Angelos felt a stab of satisfaction. He wanted her angry, lashing out at him. Breaking the surface of the smooth, flawless veneer she had plastered over her true nature.

Because that was what it was—he would allow it to be nothing else. Nothing more …

Angelos! Darling! I had no idea you were in London!’

The scent of heavy perfume wafted across the table and Thea turned her head to see someone approaching that she recognised. Not that she knew her personally, but because the woman bearing down upon them was a well-known TV actress who specialised in the femme fatale roles for which her dramatic looks were well suited. Thea watched Angelos acknowledge the woman’s greeting, but though his expression was impassive she could see irritation in the back of his eyes.

‘Candice,’ he said briefly.

The actress’s eyes rested on his face avidly for a moment, then gave the briefest glance in Thea’s direction. For an instant they were blank—then there was a flash of malice.

‘Don’t you usually run around with Giles Brooke? Be careful, my dear, or you may find the Viscountess’s coronet slipping through your fingers!’

‘It was never mine to let slip.’ Thea gave a courteous smile, ignoring the jibe.

Arched eyebrows rose. ‘No? It looked like you had him wrapped around your finger?’

‘I wouldn’t really have fitted the bill as his wife, Miss Paule.’ Thea’s voice was subdued.

The actress breathed out, the malice in her eyes even more pronounced. ‘So he didn’t propose after all? Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry!’ Her insincerity was masterly. Her voice became conspiratorial. ‘No wonder you’ve decided to settle for more transient pleasures. Enjoy them—on Angelos’s established record they will be so very transient! Now, Angelos darling—’ her tone was now cajoling ‘—I must introduce you to someone I’m here with. He’s got the most fascinating project planned. He wants me to play the lead as soon as the finance is sorted. It’s going to be a sure-fire hit, and if you came in on it you’d absolutely clean up—’