of their relationship, and wondered if he had told Massimo a mountain of lies instead in an effort to maintain his sense of male pride.
Massimo waved a hand towards the mansion behind him. ‘You see this house?’ he asked.
She looked past his shoulder at the huge, two-storey mock-Georgian building before bringing her gaze back to his. ‘Yes…’
‘I want you to move in with me.’
Her eyes widened. ‘I’m afraid that’s out of the question,’ she said. ‘I can’t possibly live with you.’
He gave her an ironic glance. ‘You find the position I am offering beneath you?’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What’s this about, Massimo? Some petty payback scheme to make me regret our stupid little fling five years ago?’
‘I need a trophy mistress,’ he said. ‘You need a job—it is as simple as that.’
Nikki felt her stomach lurch sideways in alarm. ‘I already have a job, if you remember,’ she said, moistening her bone-dry lips again. ‘I am still the face of Ferliani Fashions. I only took off the last six months to nurse Joseph.’
His eyes were unreadable as they held hers. ‘As the new owner and CEO of Ferliani Fashions, I have decided not to renew your contract,’ he said. ‘I have other plans for you.’
She gave him a fiery glare. ‘What do you want me to do, scrub your floors and fold your socks?’
‘That, and a whole lot more.’
Her eyes narrowed into wary slits. ‘How much more?’
‘I have a busy life,’ he said. ‘I do not have time to cook proper meals or maintain an immaculate house. Joseph told me what a wonderful wife you were in that respect. He told me how you refused to have a housekeeper—that you preferred to do it yourself. I need someone running things here twenty-four-seven. I am willing to pay you generously for each month the arrangement continues.’ He named a sum that sent her brows winging upwards, and added, ‘It is twice what you were earning from the Ferliani contract.’
‘There are hundreds of women who would give anything to have this job,’ she said. ‘But I’m not interested.’
‘Ah, but you have no choice, Nikki,’ he said. ‘For if you do not agree you will have to pay back every cent of the money your husband borrowed from me in your name a month before he died. Your signature is on the documents.’
Nikki stared at him, cold fear trickling into every one of her veins like a flow of ice. She vaguely remembered Joseph pushing some papers under her nose, mumbling something about advertising expenses. It had been an astonishing amount of money, she recalled with another quake of apprehension. But she had signed her name and felt grateful that he was taking care of the business side of things while he still could, never realising it would lead to this.
‘You’ve been planning this for months, haven’t you?’ she bit out caustically. ‘You’ve been watching and waiting like a vulture circling overhead for your stepfather to die.’
‘I told you five years ago when we met that I would have my revenge on what he did. He stole my father’s money and launched the Ferliani label using it,’ he said. ‘But I must say my motivation increased even more after our brief assignation. There’s a certain irony in it, don’t you think? We have come full circle. You are the face of Ferliani Fashions only because my stepfather gave you the leg up you needed, but I now own the company. You do not have a future without me. You need me, Nikki, whether you like it or not. You need me.’
Her grey-blue eyes glittered with sparks of fury. ‘You’re asking for my degradation, that’s what you’re doing.’
He gave her a cool, composed smile in return. ‘I am not asking anything of you, Nikki. I am telling you what is going to happen.’
‘And I am telling you to go to hell!’ she said and, spinning on her heels, began to stalk down the long crushed-lime-stone driveway.
‘If you take even one step outside that gate, I will activate legal proceedings immediately to recoup the money you owe me—every last cent of it,’ Massimo said in an indomitable tone.
Nikki’s right foot hovered over the boundary line as she thought about her choices. There was so much she didn’t know. Joseph’s business affairs had always seemed to her to be a little on the complicated side. He’d had money coming in from various local and international investors to float the label, and, while she had been quite content to leave him to it, so she could do her part in fulfilling the modelling contract, she’d known it was quite possible debts had mounted up over the months before he’d finally succumbed to the cancer that he’d been valiantly fighting ever since she’d met him.
The modelling meant nothing to her; it had always been a means to an end. She had hidden behind it, enjoying the benefits of financial security in order to rise above her impoverished background. No one knew that the glamorous Nikki Ferliani was actually Nicola Jenkins, the eldest child of Kaylene and Frank Jenkins, brought up surrounded by poverty, violence and crime. And certainly no one knew her father was serving a life sentence for murder, with ‘never to be released’ stamped on his file.
Not even Joseph had known about that.
And then there was Jayden.
He was happy at Rosedale House, or at least as happy as someone with permanent and severe physical and mental disabilities could be. The level of care he received there was the best that money could buy. If she had to move him away from the dedicated staff who had grown so fond of him, she would never be able to forgive herself. After all, wasn’t it her fault he had been injured in the first place?
She slowly turned around, her expression stripped of all emotion as she faced her nemesis. ‘I need some time to think about this.’
‘You have the next ten seconds,’ he said, lifting his wrist to look at his watch, and began to count them. ‘Nine, eight, seven six, five—’
‘All right,’ she said, her stomach somersaulting in dread at what was ahead. ‘I will be your…er…trophy mistress.’
His eyes came back to hers, his inbuilt cynicism glinting in their smoky depths. ‘I knew you would see sense. You are far too mercenary to throw away a fortune such as this.’
She ran her tongue over the desert dryness of her lips. ‘When do you want me to…to start?’
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and brought out a set of keys. He walked to where she was standing, took her clenched fist and, unpeeling her stiff fingers, placed the keys in her palm. ‘You started five minutes ago,’ he said.
Nikki closed her fingers around the cold metal of the keys, wincing as they bit into the soft flesh of her palm.
Now, there’s another irony, she thought as she followed him a moment later into the Toorak mansion. Within her very own hand lay the keys to her new prison…
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS a stunningly beautiful house. It was decorated throughout in subtle tones of cream and taupe and white, offset superbly by the black wrought-iron of the balustrade on the magnificent
