The Husband Test

‘And that is everything.’

‘Cynicism doesn’t suit you.’

Katrina picked up her glass, and took a leisurely sip of wine. ‘Forgive me,’ she said without any hint of apology. ‘I learned it at any early age.’

‘Why not try a dessert?’ Nicos queried blandly, and saw the fire bank beneath those brilliant green eyes.

She took a deep breath and sought to retain a semblance of calm. ‘We need to arrive at some sort of compromise.’

Nicos slid a hand into the inside pocket of his jacket, extracted a bulky envelope, and tossed it down onto the table in front of her.

Katrina viewed it with suspicion. ‘What’s this?’

‘A remote for the front gates, and keys to my home.’

He was far too sure of himself. ‘Presumptuous, aren’t you?’

‘Practical,’ he corrected.

‘Arrogant,’ she attested. ‘What if I insist you move into my apartment?’ she queried heatedly, hating him at that moment.

‘Do you really want me in the next bedroom to yours?’ Nicos queried mildly. ‘Sharing the same living quarters, the same kitchen? In an apartment more suited to one person than two?’

‘You know nothing about my apartment,’ she retaliated, and saw the slight lift of his eyebrow.

‘I was responsible for the gutting and rebuilding of the original homestead.’

She cast him a scathing look. ‘Next you’ll tell me you own it.’

Nicos inclined his head. ‘Guilty.’

If she’d known, she’d never have bought it. Her eyes narrowed. Come to think of it, it had been her father who’d first drawn her attention to the penthouse apartment in the large, modernised, tri-level home. Less than a month after she’d walked out on Nicos.

Nicos watched the fleeting emotions chase across her expressive features before she successfully masked them.

‘Mythos Investments is one of my companies.’

Of course. The name alone should have alerted her, but at the time she hadn’t given much thought to anything other than finding a solitary haven of her own.

Suspicion ignited, and demanded answer. ‘Did you employ a private detective to monitor my every move?’ Katrina queried tightly.

An ex-military whose instructions were to observe, protect if necessary, and be unobtrusive at all times. A successful operation, Nicos acknowledged, for which the man had received a handsome remuneration.

His silence was more eloquent than mere words, and Katrina’s mouth thinned. ‘I see.’

Nicos’s gaze speared hers. ‘What do you see, pedhi mou?’ His voice was dangerously quiet.

Too quiet. Like the calm before a storm. Something she chose to ignore.

‘Two men bent on manipulating my life,’ she retaliated fiercely. ‘My father during his lifetime, and now you.’ She picked up her water glass and momentarily toyed with the idea of throwing its contents in his face.

‘Don’t,’ Nicos warned softly.

She was caught on the brink of violence. Aware of the acute satisfaction of such an action, and the folly of carrying it through. ‘You read minds?’

‘Yours.’

She took in a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘The activity reports would have been incredibly repetitive,’ she began tightly.

Work, social activities. A few male partners, none of whom had stayed overnight.

‘How dare you?’ The anger bubbled over. ‘It was an invasion of privacy. Harassment. I should file charges against you!’

His gaze didn’t waver. ‘It was protection.’

‘Did Kevin know?’ she demanded starkly.

‘We discussed it.’

Traitors, both of them. ‘Dear heaven,’ she breathed with pious disregard. ‘I’m twenty-seven, not seventeen!’

‘You’re the daughter of a very wealthy man, and—’

‘The estranged wife of someone who is almost my father’s equal,’ Katrina finished bitterly.

‘Yes.’

‘I hate you.’

His shoulders lifted in an imperturbable shrug. ‘So—hate me. At least it’s an active emotion.’

She was steaming, her anger a palpable entity.

He caught the way her fingers curled into her palm, the whiteness of her knuckles as she sought control.

‘If you leave now, you’ll only delay the inevitable,’ Nicos warned silkily. ‘And invoke a repeat performance.’

It didn’t help that he was right.

‘I don’t want this,’ she vowed with unaccustomed vehemence. ‘Any of it.’

‘But you want Macbride.’

It was a statement she didn’t, couldn’t refute.

Why should sharing a residence for a year with her estranged husband pose any problems? They were both adults. They had extensive work obligations, separate interests. With luck, they’d hardly see each other much at all.

A tiny bubble of laughter rose and died in her throat. Who was she kidding?