that had left his peers, most of whom came from a background of Big Houses, gaping and speechless. Now, he no longer worked for anyone. He had his own financial empire and called his own shots. When he opened his mouth, the world listened and paid heed.
And with vast power and wealth had come all the trappings. The place in the sun, rarely visited. The country house that he visited occasionally, whenever the ferocious demands of work allowed him the time off. The chauffeured car, the helicopter for those times when he needed to be somewhere faster than a train or car could take him, the lavish apartment in the heart of one of the most expensive areas in London.
He had long ago left behind the type of place now confronting him, with its tiny handkerchief of a front garden and, even in the forgiving cover of darkness, its signs of disrepair. And here in the small hallway, although much effort had obviously been made to brighten the interior, the cheerful primrose-coloured paint was fighting a losing battle with dodgy woodwork and carpeting that was no longer tired, but downright exhausted.
While Lily bent to unzip her boots, sighing with relief as she yanked the first one off, Nick turned to shut the front door. He was unaware of the sound of footsteps and only realised that there was someone else in the house when he heard Lily give a little yelp.
‘Rosie! What are you doing up?’
‘Who—’ the voice was unusually husky for a woman ‘—is that?’
Nick turned around and found himself staring into a pair of narrowed blue eyes, which were glaring at him. Then he took in the rest of her—small, especially standing next to Lily, and no model’s figure, although it was hard to tell because she was swamped in a fairly unflattering ensemble of dressing gown behind which peeked what appeared to be some kind of hideous novelty pyjamas.
‘Honestly, Rose, I keep telling you not to wait up for me! I’m a big girl now. I can take care of myself!’
The Rose character, whoever she might be, wore the expression of someone who seriously doubted that statement.
‘I have no idea how you can say that, Lily, when you’ve just waltzed through the door with a complete stranger in tow. At nearly one in the morning. I thought you told me that this was going to be an early one?’
‘It was early…but…Rose, this is Nick. Nick Papaeliou. Maybe you’ve heard of him?’
‘Of course I haven’t heard of him,’ Rose snapped. ‘You know I don’t know a thing about these models you hang around with.’
‘Model?’ Nick couldn’t believe his ears. Nor could he quite believe the way those ferocious blue eyes were scornfully dismissing him. ‘You think I’m a model?’
‘What else?’
‘Oh, Rosie. You have to excuse her, Nick. Rose is very, very protective of me. She thinks I’m going to be gobbled up by a big bad wolf one of these days. But that’s cool. Hey, what else do big sisters do?’
‘She’s your sister?’ Nick stared at the small, round woman who was still glaring at him, although he noticed a faint pink colour crawl into her cheeks.
‘There’s no need to look so stunned,’ Rose said coldly.
‘We’re stepsisters actually,’ Lily explained, smiling. ‘Isn’t it amazing? I mean, you hear so many stories about step-siblings not getting along but Rose and I couldn’t be closer if we were proper sisters.’ She gave Rose an affectionate squeeze. Even without shoes, she was at least six inches taller. ‘Rosie, Nick’s just popped by for a nightcap…would you mind? I’ve got to go to the bathroom.’
Yes, actually, she would mind, but Lily was already vanishing up the stairs, still taking them two at a time, the way she always had even as a kid. Sweet, sunny-natured Lily who thought the best of everyone, even the ones who had Health Hazard written all over their faces. Like this one staring at her, still incredulously digesting the fact that the leggy blonde with the waist-length hair, the one whom he had probably expected to escort home to a suitably empty house, was related to someone who was physically as different from her as chalk from cheese.
Rose stared right back at him. He towered over her and was dangerously good-looking, with a strong, harshly sensual face and black, black hair to match the long black lashes and brooding eyes. It took a lot of will-power not to quail before that singularly unblinking stare. She told herself that he was probably nothing more than a B-grade actor who was accustomed to playing the lead role in hammy TV dramas and didn’t know when to drop the act. She didn’t know why she had originally assumed he was a model. Definitely not pretty enough.
‘So, stepsister Rose, do you always wait up for Lily when she goes out?’
Rose favoured him with a look of haughty disdain. She detected the sarcasm in his voice but she wasn’t going to rise to it. She spun round on her heel and headed for the kitchen.
‘I’m not going to apologise for being rude, Mr Papaeliou,’ she said, the minute they were in the kitchen and he had taken up position on one of the chairs by the pine kitchen table, ‘but Lily’s been messed around by too many shallow, good-looking men and I’m not going to allow it to happen again…’ She must have only just finished making a hot drink for herself because there was no need to boil the kettle. His nightcap, far from being a glass of port or a liqueur, was a mug of coffee handed to him in the manner of someone eager to see him off the premises. She stood in front of him, arms folded. ‘She may not think that she needs looking after, and, sure, she’s more than capable of running her own life, but when it comes to emotions my sister can be very trusting. She doesn’t need to get involved with a two-bit actor on the make.’
Nick, for the first time in his life, felt himself struggling to get a handle on the situation.
‘Two bit actor?’
‘What else? You might play the action hero in whatever third-rate movies you’ve been in, but you can drop the macho act. It doesn’t wash with me. All I know is that Lily is a sucker when it comes to a good-looking man with a few chat-up lines, but they never stay the course and she’s had her heart broken too many times…’
Two-bit actor? Action hero? The woman had the barefaced audacity to make him sound like a comic-book character! But he was certainly not going to allow himself to be dragged into a stand-up fight with a woman with the personality of a Rottweiler. ‘Hence you’re her self-appointed watchdog. That’s very noble of you,’ Nick said coolly. ‘Does Lily appreciate your over-zealous concern? Or do you save these little speeches for when her back’s turned?’ He placed the mug on the table without drinking any of the coffee. ‘I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not an empty-headed male model out to sleep with the nearest attractive woman, nor am I a two bit actor with an identity problem.’
‘No? Well, it doesn’t matter. Model, actor…creative director with an empty casting couch…it’s all much of a muchness. Lily’s just emerged from a relationship that ended badly and I’m making sure that she doesn’t get taken in by another man with too much looks and too few scruples for his own good. I wish there were a more polite way of warning you off, but there isn’t.’
Nick was accustomed to women pandering to him, hanging onto his every word, courting him with their feminine wiles. Could his night go any more off course? From a showdown that, inevitably, would reach the gossip pages in some rag, to a confrontation with a perfect stranger who was either partially unhinged or just too plain bloody outspoken for her own good.
Before he could
