A Rich Man's Whim - By Lynne Graham Page 0,17
was the wretched man playing at? What did he want from her? Surely not the obvious? She could not believe that Mikhail would not have far more exciting sexual options than she could possibly offer.
When she finally reached the reception area on the top floor of the impressive office block that functioned as Mikhail’s London base, a dazzling Nordic blonde came to collect her and walk her down a corridor. The blonde’s curiosity was unhidden. ‘So, you are Katherine Marshall and Mikhail owns your house,’ she remarked rather curtly. ‘How did that come about?’
‘I haven’t a clue,’ Kat fielded. ‘But I’m here to find out.’
The blonde subjected her to another assessing look, her bright blue eyes cool. ‘Don’t take too long about it. He has another appointment in ten minutes.’
Kat gritted her teeth on a sharp retort and smoothed anxious hands down over her slim thighs to dry the nervous dampness from her palms. A door swung open in front of her. She passed over the threshold and into bright blinding sunlight that prevented her from seeing anything.
CHAPTER FOUR
MIKHAIL TOOK FULL advantage of the sunlight that blinded her, striding forward to seize the initiative and, in a gesture that disconcerted her, he reached for both her hands. ‘Kat … it’s good to see you here, milaya moya …’
He was so tall, so dark and so arrestingly handsome in the sleek formality of a tailored black business suit that he had instant overwhelming impact. Her heart thumping inside her ribcage, Kat gazed up into ravishing dark eyes enhanced by thick black lashes and blinked rapidly, thoroughly disorientated by his unexpected smile of welcome and sudden proximity. A feeling of warmth spread through her, a disturbing sense of security holding her still. In a conscious rejection of that treacherous response, Kat snatched her hands angrily free of his. ‘Of course I’m here—what choice did you give me? You’re buying my house!’
‘It’s already done. Technically, I now own a house with a sitting tenant,’ Mikhail fielded smoothly. ‘A landlord is surely a far less alarming prospect than homelessness and the threat of bailiffs removing your belongings and selling them?’
His reminder of how dire her circumstances had been before he stepped in clamped down like steel girders of restraint on Kat’s unruly temper. She was furious with him and deeply resented his interference in her private affairs, but she could not have put her hand on her heart and honestly sworn that she wanted the threat of repossession and the prospect of bailiffs back in her life. In truth it was an enormous relief for her not to be dogged day and night with those fears, afraid to answer the phone in case it was the debt collection agency ringing with demands for repayment, afraid to answer the door bell as well. She breathed in deep and slow to calm herself and reorganise her thoughts.
‘Why don’t you sit down?’ Mikhail indicated a couch in one corner of the vast room. ‘I’ll order coffee.’
‘That’s not necessary,’ Kat told him, dragging her attention from his bold bronzed profile and energy-zapping presence to examine his office. Large in both size and personality, he had an unnerving ability to utterly dominate his surroundings.
‘I decide what’s necessary,’ Mikhail contradicted and he lifted the phone to order coffee.
Kat had not required that reminder of how domineering he could be and her generous mouth tightened as she sat down on the couch, determined to behave normally and betray no hint of her nervous tension. A wonderfully vibrant abstract painting adorned the far wall, the only splash of colour in a room furnished with cold contemporary steel, leather and glass and everything cutting edge technology had to offer. Mikhail Kusnirovich as her landlord? That was a ridiculous euphemism for him to employ when he had repaid substantial cash sums on her behalf. No longer in debt to the loan company or the building society, Kat now considered herself to be in debt to him instead. Of course, he owed her an explanation for his astonishing intervention.
‘Why did you do it?’ Kat prompted tautly.
Mikhail compressed his wide sensual mouth and shrugged a broad shoulder. It was not an answer but it was the only one he was prepared to give her. He had no socially acceptable altruistic reason to offer in his own defence. What had driven him had been a great deal more basic and selfish: having seen her vulnerability, he had immediately wanted to ensure that he was the only person