“Such as?” She blinked at him wearily.
He smiled, and it dazzled her. She jerked her head down and sipped the tea, glad when it scalded her tongue.
“You’re his legal guardian.”
“I think we’ve established that.”
“Until he’s eighteen, you’ll be responsible then for administering his trust fund and assets.”
She stared at him sharply. “What trust fund and assets?”
“He’s a Rakanti, agape mou. It is appropriate that he receive what is his birthright.”
Elle’s pulse was pounding like a sparrow on a ledge. “You should do that. It’s nothing to do with me.”
“You’re wrong. You’re legally obliged to do it.”
She paled and he almost felt sorry for her. Almost. But not quite. “But I wouldn’t know how to manage anything like that. Our finances are simple, Christos. I have a chequing account and a savings account. I don’t even have a credit card.”
“You’re smart. You’ll pick it up. And I’ll be here to help you.”
“You will?” She blinked, hating the gauche surprise in her voice. She spoke quickly to bulldoze past it. “What’s involved?”
“I’m glad you asked.” He slid the folder across to her and she stared at it suspiciously. Suppressing a smile, he stood from his seat and came to crouch beside her. He lifted the folder and rested it on her knees. His fingers couldn’t help but graze across her bare legs, and he felt her jerk in response.
“These are the assets I’m transferring to Filip’s name.” He pointed to a column, but as Elle read the itemised list, she began to shake her head.
“I must be missing something.”
“Oh?” He turned to look at her; their faces were only inches apart.
“You’ve put … this has a yacht. And a penthouse. And company shares. Is this amount right?”
“It’s today’s market value. Though we’re poised to acquire a hotel in Kowloon which will boost that.”
“Christos, stop.” She fluttered her eyes shut. “This is too much. He doesn’t need any of this.”
“He’s a Rakanti.”
“No.” She put the paper down. “He’s a Bradley. And he won’t want anything from your father, trust me.”
Christos kneeled, and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s done. It cannot be undone. These things will be held in his name until he’s eighteen. If, at that point, he decides he doesn’t want them, he may give them away.”
“How can you be so cavalier about such an enormous sum of money?”
“That money should always have been his.” He stroked his fingers over her arm, feeling her warmth through the shirt. “My father should have done this.”
And though he concealed the disapproval, she heard it. “You’re angry with him.”
His lips lifted into a half-smile. “Anger at a dead man would be a futile waste of emotion. But I’m … disappointed, nai.”
“Have you told Filip about this?”
“No. That’s not my place. It’s yours.”
“Christos.” It was a wail. “I don’t know what to say. Three months ago I didn’t know how I’d cover his school fees and overnight you’re turning him into a millionaire.” She looked back at the page. “Several times over.”
He scanned her eyes. “It is his inheritance.” He wanted to kiss her. He ached to lean forward and smudge away her worry and concern. “And your duty is to manage it for him.”
“I wouldn’t have any clue what to do.”
“No,” he nodded. “I thought of that. Which is why I’m going to help you.”
“Oh? How?”
“Once a week, we’ll meet. I can answer any questions, guide you as I see fit. The decisions, of course, will always be yours.”
Suspicion unfurled inside of her. “Is this a ploy? To make me see you?”
His laugh was rich. “I’m both mildly offended and deeply amused. No, agape mou. It is no ploy.”
She swallowed the objection to his suggestion, not sure she could launch a good enough rebuttal in her current state. “Why is this one highlighted?” She pointed to the penthouse. The address, she calculated, was somewhere on the upper East side.
“Because it’s the most suitable residential option. I have a car waiting to take us there.”
She placed her teacup down on the table with a slight clatter.
“He already has a residential option.”
“It’s not appropriate.”
“Stop.” She stood up and walked towards the window, her figure slender against the skyline. He watched as she rubbed her temples and again, he wanted to remove the burden of decision making and responsibility from her shoulders. And he would. But he had to move so, so slowly that she incrementally accepted each phase of his plan. “I know you think our apartment is small. And it is. And our possessions are meagre. But Hannah and I have worked hard to make it a home …”
“This isn’t about your apartment.” He came to stand beside her, thrusting his hands into his pockets. “It’s about your security.”
“My security?”
“Filip has gone from relative obscurity to insane wealth and public-profile almost overnight. You’re his guardian. You don’t think it’s possible that people could target you to get to him?”
She wrapped her arms around her waist. Confusion and worry perforated her gut. “I don’t want any of this.”
“Would you honestly begrudge your brother the opportunities I’m offering him?”
She frowned. “No.” She turned slowly, her face wary. “And you know that, don’t you? I think you’re manipulating me now, as easily as you did that first morning. You know my weaknesses and you’re not above exploiting them.”
The very loose grip he had on his self-control began to weaken, and when her lower lip trembled, it snapped altogether. “If I wanted to exploit your weakness, I would do this.” And he kissed her suddenly, abruptly, catching her completely off-guard. She had no time to prepare for the onslaught of desire; no time to rally her coldness and animosity.
His mouth dominated hers. It was her master; his kiss was breathing life back into her soul. She was powerless to pull away. She didn’t want to. She wanted to feel everything. Every part of him. She tied her body to his, wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his thick, dark hair. He was warm; she felt the heat and it was reassuring and addictive.
His tongue clashed with hers; his hands roamed down her back, holding her tight to his chest. If their kiss was a battle, then the war was his. There was no contest. She surrendered to him, but it was no surrender. She was victorious too.
When he lifted his head, his eyes were shining with arrogant success and she didn’t care. She wanted more. Just more.
“Come and see the apartment.”
She nodded, lifting her fingers to her lips. How could she inoculate herself against something she wanted so badly? He put a hand in the small of her back and she was too shell-shocked to pull away from him.
Only when they reached the privacy of the elevator did she move apart, creating vital distance.
“Don’t … I think …” she stopped talking abruptly and stared straight ahead. In the warped reflection she saw the pinkness of her cheeks and the fullness of her lips. She looked how she felt. Hot, and completely flushed by desire.
11
When they emerged onto the pavement, a limousine was waiting, and as they walked towards it, she tilted her face to his. “Seriously?”
He grinned. “I don’t drive in Manhattan.”
“Why not? Do our roads frighten you?” She asked, hoping to expose a flaw in his bravado.
He laughed, shaking his head to the chauffeur and holding the door for her himself. “Not at all. Your traffic infuriates me, though. It’s a waste of my time to be behind the wheel. Here, I can work.”
The back of the limousine was large enough to comfortably accommodate eight people. She sent him a look and took a seat in the
corner. To her equal relief and disappointment, he sat opposite her.
“So why this penthouse?”
“Actually, it’s technically the sub-penthouse. And it’s been in the Rakanti family since the building went up. It made sense that it should go to your brother.”
“What does your mom think about all of this?”
He put a hand on her knee as the limousine pulled into traffic with a stately elegance. “She doesn’t involve herself with my business.”
Elle settled back in the seat and tried to concentrate on the view as the limousine moved through the city.
“I’ve been curious about something,” he said, somewhere around Bloomingdale’s.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Her lips still tingled from his kiss. She resisted the urge to trace her lips with her tongue.
“Chip.”
She tried very hard to keep any trace of guilt from her features. “What about him?”
“You’re not involved with him.”
She thought about lying again, but it seemed ridiculously juvenile now. “No.”
“And you never were,” he exclaimed triumphantly, his relief palpable.
“I was.” She enjoyed the surprise on his features. “But we’ve just been friends for a long time.”
Christos leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “When?”
“When what?” She asked with assumed confusion.
“When were you with him?”
“I told you. A long time ago.”
He pulled a face. “Which could mean six months ago or six years ago.”
“When I was just fifteen. We were just kids,” she said. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I’ve been plotting devious ways to get him out of the picture,” he said with a slow laugh.
“There’s no need.” She swallowed convulsively. “But that doesn’t mean I’m available. For you.”
He nodded, but his lips were twitching. “Good. I’m glad we’ve got that straightened out.” And at her look of indignation, he reached further forward and padded his thumb across her lip. “Don’t be frightened, agape mou. I’m going to look after you.”
She stared at him. “Until when? Until you bore of me, as you’ve threatened again and again that you will?”
He cursed his own stupid anger then. The threats he’d thrown at her were his worst enemy.
“I miss you.” She said the words so quietly they were hardly audible. “I miss you so much that I can hardly sleep. But there’s something worse than missing you.”
He made a sound of impatient frustration. “What is worse than this hell?”
“Having you. Being with you. And always waiting. Waiting for the next time you speak to me like you did. For the next time you tell me to leave.” She turned her face towards the window, and appeared to stare with concentration at the passing buildings. “I can’t live like that.”
Her grief was real.
So too was her mistrust.
And she was showing excellent instincts to be regarding him with such pessimism. He’d had her trust, and he’d thrown it away as though it meant nothing. If only he’d known then that her good-regard was the most important thing in his world.
“I will be what you need,” he said, talking to her blank profile. “I will show you you can trust me.”
She didn’t react. In fact, she didn’t speak or move until the car drew to a halt. Then, as if waking from a dream, she blinked, boxing away the tangled, knotty thoughts that had been running through her mind and peered closer towards the window.
It was obviously an excellent address. The street was lined with neat awnings, potted plants and liveried doorman. It lacked the eclectic comfort of The Village though. The door opened and she stepped out, her eyes skidding past the driver’s form.
“Which one?” The question was grim and she didn’t care.
“Here.” He nodded at the green awning right in front of them.
“Mr Rakanti,” one of the doormen greeted as they approached. “Miss Bradley.” He held the door and Christos nodded.
“After you, Elle.”
Her back was stiff as she walked into the foyer. She bit back a curse word. “This place is the definition of opulent.”
He shrugged. “You get used to it.”
“Maybe you do.” She shook her head. “But I can’t see Filip here.”
He put a hand in the small of her back. “Just wait.”
He slipped a card into the lifts and pressed the button for thirty four. “The whole floor would be Filip’s. There are no other apartments.”
“That’s insane.”
“It’s the sub-penthouse. What did you expect?”
Not this, she thought, as the doors swung open to reveal a wide, tiled corridor. “He’s a teenage boy. You really think he needs to live like this?”
“Just wait,” he said again, propelling her further down the hallway. The apartment was furnished, and she scanned the assortment of items with curiosity.
“Is this your stuff?”
“No. It’s Filip’s.” When she sent him a sceptical look he pointed towards the lounges. “Everything here is modified for disability access. He will be comfortable here, Elle. He’ll be able to move around easily, enjoying his surroundings without worrying that his wheel’s going to snag on carpet or that he’s going to knock books out of the shelf.”
“Like in my poky little place?”
He held back the exasperated sigh. “I’m not trying to offend you, but yes. Like your apartment. Which is fine. It’s lovely. But it’s small. And it’s cluttered. And Filip feels like he’s rolling over eggshells when he’s there.”
“Don’t,” she said stiffly. “Don’t say that. My whole life for the last four years has revolved around making a home for him.”
“I know that. And so does he.” He put his arm around her waist and pulled her towards him. “But look around here and tell me that this isn’t best for him? Push aside your own ego and picture Filip here. Imagine the life he would have.” He nodded towards the balcony. “He would have his own plunge pool.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.” And as they neared the glass doors she saw that he was right. Furthermore, a device had been built which she could only presume was to make it easier for him to get in and out of the pool and back to his chair.
“With a view of Manhattan to die for.”
“You sound miserable. Why don’t you want this for him?”
“You’re turning my brother into your little clone! I don’t want him to be like you.” She spun around to face him. “I don’t want him to think money doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to treat women like dirt.”
“I don’t do that.” He gripped her cheeks, holding her face close to his. His voice was hoarse. “I will never forgive myself for what I said to you. For the things I did. I have never hurt a woman like I hurt you.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” She shrugged away from him and stepped back into the lounge, pulling a shroud of cool unconcern around her heart. “But you’re right. This place will be perfect for Filip. He’ll love it.”
He exhaled a slow sigh of relief. “Good. And you will have to live here too. For your own security.”
She nodded, numb. “I wouldn’t want him here without me. I’m his sister.”
His eyes were glued to her face, searching the features for any sign of understanding. “Haven’t you ever done something that was out of character?”
She spun to face him, her heart racing. “You know I have. The night I met you.”
He arched a brow questioningly.
Nervously, she moved away from him, down the hallway. It was easier to speak if he wasn’t staring at her. “When I was a teenager, I went through a phase.” She cleared her throat. “I guess I saw the way my mom lived and I thought it was pretty cool. For a time. I got caught up in,” she waved a hand in the air. “You know. All that stuff.”
/>
“No.” He caught up with her but didn’t touch her. He didn’t want to do anything that might destroy the spirit of conversation. She paused at the door of a room. There were handles by the bed and she eyed them curiously. “For Filip,” he said, impatient that she continue.
She moved onwards, to the next bedroom. It was beautiful, with a spectacular view. “Yours. If you want it.” He studied her face. It gave little away. “You were saying?”
“Oh, right.” She furrowed her brow. “I learned my lesson. That sort of behaviour … it’s just not for me.”
“What sort of behaviour, exactly?”
“You know. One night stands.”
“Because of your own experiences?” He prompted, guiding her further down the hallway.
She nodded distractedly and the jealousy was a firm knife in his gut.
“Chip?” He prompted.
She sent him a side-long glance. “We were kids.” She shook her head. “And very drunk on cheap Estonian wine.”
“So the night we met?” He prompted, honing back to the original point.
“Right. I mean, I didn’t need to sleep with you.” Her cheeks flushed. “The plan was to get a photo of you and me together. Hannah said it would be better if we … if we …”
“Had sex,” he prompted.
“Right,” she nodded awkwardly. “But I would never do that. With someone I’d just met.” She shook her head. “Then I met you. And I just … I just knew I had to go with it.”
“I’m glad you did.”
She stopped walking. “I don’t need to see anything else. It’s fine. Better than fine. Filip will be happy here.”
“Actually, there’s one more thing you need to see.”
“What is it?”
“It’s upstairs.”
She frowned. “I didn’t see any stairs.”
He laughed and walked back towards the lift. She followed.
“Christos?”
He lifted a finger to her lips. “Be patient.”
He swiped the key once more and the lift ascended one more floor. “What is this?” She stepped into another apartment. The floor plan was similar, though this was clearly even more grand. “Who lives here.”