Not that he’d ever done something quite like this before. And, if he felt any discomfort over what he was doing, he was quick to remind himself that she’d thrown the first ball. Emily had broken into his office to steal his company’s data and then had tried to blackmail him. She didn’t deserve him to feel any guilt.
Everything was in hand with regards to the Plushenko buyout. All the negotiations had been finalised; now it was just a case of dotting every ‘i’ and crossing every ‘t’. His lawyers were in the process of doing just that. There was nothing more for him to do other than sign the final contracts in exactly one week.
Escorting Emily to Aliana Island wouldn’t affect anything. He could accompany her there and be back in Europe within thirty-six hours. And yet...
Pascha didn’t like leaving anything to chance. He wanted to be there on the scene should any unexpected crises be thrown up, not halfway round the world with a blackmailing thief.
The inter-connecting door opened and Emily burst into his private space, a space not even his executive secretary or PA were permitted to enter. More curls had sprung free from the bun she’d wedged her hair in, ebony tendrils falling over her face and down her back.
Without any preliminaries, she launched straight in. ‘If I agree to effectively be kidnapped by you, I want it in writing that you’ll exonerate my father from any and all charges.’
‘I’ve already agreed to that.’
‘I want your written guarantee. I doubt he’ll ever be in a position to return to work, so I also want you to back-date the money he’s been denied since being under suspension. And I want you to give him a decent pay-off of, say, a quarter of a million pounds.’
Pascha shock his head, almost laughing at her nerve. ‘Your demands are ridiculous.’
She shrugged mutinously. ‘That’s what I want. If you agree to my demands, then I will agree to your demands.’
‘I think you forget who is in the driving seat. I’m not the one whose father’s future hangs in the balance.’
‘True. But your wish for secrecy over your involvement in the Plushenko deal is in the balance.’ Here, her face transformed, lighting up with faux sweetness. ‘Either you agree to my demands or I whistle it to the world. We can call it a deal of mutual benefit or, if you prefer, mutually beneficial blackmail.’
Emily had never been on the receiving end of such pure loathing before. It radiated off him like a rippling wave.
She refused to cower.
She didn’t care what the motivation was for his buy-out, knew only that it had to be something more than a simple business deal. Either that or the man was completely insane because no one went to such great lengths to secure a business deal.
No. For Pascha Virshilas, this buy-out was, for whatever reason, personal. And if he could use her emotions for leverage then she could certainly use his emotions for her own benefit—or, in this case, her father’s.
Now the ball was back in his court.
After what felt like an age, he gave a sharp nod. ‘I will agree to your demands with regards to your father, but you will disappear until my buy-out is complete. If at any point you find an opportunity to talk and are stupid enough to take it, our deal will be null and void and I will personally ruin the pair of you.’
* * *
Pascha pulled up outside the house in the London suburb Emily had given him as her address.
‘You live here?’ The cosy, mock-Tudor house was nothing like the home he’d imagined she would have. ‘This is my father’s home,’ she answered shortly. ‘I rented my flat out and moved back in a month ago.’
‘That must have been a come-down, moving back in with your parents.’
She fixed him with a hard stare. ‘Do not presume to know me or know anything about my life. Give me twenty minutes. I need to arrange some matters and get my stuff together.’
He opened his door before returning the stare. ‘I’m coming in with you.’
‘You certainly are not.’
‘I’m not giving you a choice. Until we get to your destination, you’re not leaving my sight.’
The fire running in her eyes sparked. ‘To be clear, if you say or do anything to upset my father then our agreement can go to hell.’
‘Then you will be the one dealing with the consequences.’
‘As will you.’ Before his eyes, her face transformed, the hardness softening to become almost childlike. ‘Please, Pascha. He’s in a very bad place. You probably won’t even see him but, if you do, please be kind.’
He’d never had any intention of upsetting her father. All the same, he found himself agreeing to her heartfelt plea. ‘I will say nothing to upset him.’
And, just like that, she went back into her hard shell and jumped out of the car. ‘Let’s go in, then.’
He followed her through the front door and into a spacious yet homely house.
‘Dad?’ she called, shouting up the stairs. ‘It’s only me. I’ll be up in a minute with a cup of tea for you.’ Not waiting for an answer, she headed into a large kitchen-diner, put the kettle on and reached for the house phone.
Pascha grabbed her wrist before she could dial the number. ‘Who are you calling?’
‘My brother. I told you, I have things to organise. Now, take your hand off me.’
Not trusting her an inch, he complied, stepping back far enough to give them both a little space, but remaining close enough to disconnect the call should she try anything.
‘James?’ she said into the receiver. ‘It’s only me. Look, I’m sorry for the short notice, but I need you to come and stay with dad for the next week and not just tonight.’
From the way she sucked her angular cheekbones in, and the impatience of her tone as the conversation went back and forth, she wasn’t happy with her brother’s responses.
Emily was clearly a bossy big sister but beneath it all he heard genuine affection. He could well imagine her ordering her brother around from the moment of his birth.
His mind turned to the man he’d always regarded as a brother, the same man who would sooner drive Plushenko’s—the business he’d inherited from their father—into the ground rather than sell it to Pascha.
While Pascha had openly hero-worshipped him, Marat had never made any secret of his loathing for Pascha. When Pascha had been seriously ill and death had been hovering, real, Marat had wanted him—the boy he’d liked to call the cuckoo in the nest—to die.
Emily’s conversation ended with her saying, ‘Mandy’s around during the day if you need to go into the office. I’m only asking you to come for a week—you’ll be fine. Amsterdam will still be there when you get back.’
She
