Husband for the Holidays

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

K ONSTANTIN WALKED AROUND to the door that his driver opened for him, taking these few seconds to shake off the last of the adrenaline that had punched through him when Eloise had almost stepped into traffic. That had been the most terrifying—

No. He never let emotions of any variety sweep over him. When things didn’t go as planned, he took control of himself and the situation, made adjustments and carried on.

This was quite the unexpected detour, though. Not that he’d wanted to attend tonight’s soiree. Gemma had insisted. Since he had invited her to accompany him to the Maldives, Konstantin had relented, but the party wasn’t even raising money for a good cause. It was purely a see-and-be-seen thing, something he loathed and typically avoided.

He settled into the captain’s chair behind the driver and looked across the console to Eloise in the other one, studying her as the glow on the overhead bulb faded and his driver pulled into traffic. Between the painted freckles and round pink circles adorning her cheeks, and the hat and yarn that hid her real hair, he had almost missed recognizing her.

His only thought while he’d waited for the elevator had been that he couldn’t wait to leave New York. He could stand the bustle and honks, but the relentless assault of seasonal cheer, of carols and blinking lights and jangling bells, almost made him nostalgic for the deprivations of his childhood. Winters back then had been damp and gray. He’d shivered so hard his teeth had hurt and the only escape had been the rocky slopes and barren vineyards of northeastern Greece, but at least it had been quiet.

When the elevator opened and yet another ludicrous manifestation of the season appeared before him—a young woman in an elf costume—he’d barely looked at her. He’d had the sense she was staring at him, but that was normal. Konstantin owned a conglomerate worth billions. He didn’t seek the spotlight, but he often earned reactions of awe and deference.

While his front brain essentially ignored her the way he ignored any staff who were getting on with their work, some preternatural sense had prickled to life in him as she brushed past. Once she was out, he should have stepped into the empty elevator to get on with his life, but his inner beast had snatched a look at a retreating woman, gauging her to be not a teenager as he’d first assumed.

She was petite, yes, and her clothing was an eyesore, but the doorman was hitting on her, indicating she was old enough to drink.

Konstantin had been irritated by that other man’s attention toward her, which had been irritating in itself. What the hell did he care? He wasn’t the possessive type even when he was in a relationship. This stranger was nothing to him. She wasn’t even the kind of woman who usually caught his eye. He preferred tall curvy blondes who looked him in the eye and radiated sexual confidence. He slept with women who knew their own worth and went after what they wanted, even if it was him and his fortune. At least he knew where he stood and that they were capable of looking after themselves.

Vulnerable waifs were a hard no.

But he’d lingered to watch the interplay and listen to her speak. Even as the neutral elocution that denoted a cultured education was hitting his ears and ringing bells, she shook out her coat.

It wasn’t a remarkable coat. Konstantin had seen many like it on various women through the years. It was a classic trench-style lined with a signature plaid from a popular designer. It looked well-worn so maybe she’d picked it up from a thrift store because it seemed high-end for someone in her position.

Yet, it fit her perfectly.

And suddenly Konstantin had heard a voice from the grave.

I have to buy my sister a coat. Something warm. She’s coming for Christmas and I don’t want her to be cold.

The ground had shifted beneath him. A flare of something dangerous had whooshed alight inside him. It was a reaction he had deliberately distanced himself from the first time he’d felt it. And the second.

But as she flashed him a last persecuted glance, he finally saw her. It was a gut punch and a knee to the groin and an awakening of something primal in him that he didn’t even know he possessed.

She ignored his call of her name, which propelled him outside after her. None of this made sense. What the hell was Ilias’s little sister doing, trudging through a snowstorm in a Peter Pan costume, dragging a sack like she was moving a dead body in a cheap detective movie?

She was aggressively ignoring him. Still. As the vehicle moved forward in the heavy traffic, she kept her stiff profile turned to the busy sidewalk beyond her side window.

“I told you to contact me if you needed anything,” he reminded her. “Why haven’t you?”

She made a noise between a choke and a laugh. “That was six years ago. At a funeral. You were being polite.”

To some extent, perhaps, but... “I always mean what I say.”

No response.

“How is Lilja?” he asked of her mother.

“Fine.”

“In the same way that you’re fine?”

She drew a deep breath, as though ready to launch into a lengthy reply, then said a cryptic, “She remarried a few years ago.” Her breath hissed out and her chin went down. Her fingers twined together in her lap. “They live in Nice.”

“I heard about that.” Distantly. He had had his assistant send an appropriate gift expressing his felicitations. “Are you married?” It was a jarring thought that had him recollecting her remark about not buckling to an overbearing man.

“No,” she said pithily.

“Living with someone?” Who was looking after her? Because it wasn’t herself.

“I have a roommate,” she said, talking to the window again.

“Are you using drugs?”

“ No ,” she cried. “Why would you think—” She clammed up.

Exactly. Given her upbringing, finding her like this defied logic.

They arrived outside Konstantin’s building. Eloise leaned to peer upward.

“Is there a restaurant up there somewhere?”

“I’m not sitting in a restaurant with Santa’s Little Helper.”

“You’re not kidnapping one, either. That sort of behavior puts you on the Naughty list.”

“I’ve never been on the Nice one,” he drawled as he stepped out into the gust of wind and peck of snow. He liked to believe he was civilized and fair, but nice? No. That skated too close to caring and sentiment. He wasn’t one to be moved .

Eloise had left the SUV and was standing on the sidewalk under the awning when he got there, hugging her coat lapels tight under her throat.

“I’d rather go home. Which way is the subway?” She squinted into the wall of flakes falling on either side of the awning.

“You said I could buy you dinner. Oscar will pick up our meal.” He nodded at his driver to leave and the car pulled away. “Come wash your face and tell me what’s going on.”

He started toward the entrance, but she stayed where she was.

“Really?” He stepped back to face her. “We’ve been alone before. Nothing happened.” It was a lie. Something had happened to him the last two times he’d seen her, but he’d put the brakes on before he stepped over any lines.

At least, he believed that until her gaze flashed up. Her hazel eyes reflected the white lights roped around the potted trees that lined the carpet to the door. He caught a glimpse of something in her eyes that was so naked, he felt the jolt of it travel into his chest and zing into his gut and groin.

Her lashes swept down, breaking that connection, but the electrical lines inside him were still smoking and tingling.

That was what he had turned away from twice before. She sparked a sexual reaction in him that was not only inappropriate, it was as dangerous as a keg of dynamite. He had walked away those other times because she’d been too young. She’d been grieving. And she was his best friend’s kid sister.

He could have done it again right now. She wanted to leave and he could let her. He wasn’t stupid enough to bring explosives into his home and start playing with matches.

But he couldn’t let her go, either. She wasn’t even wearing gloves or a proper hat.

“If I wanted sex tonight, I would have gone on my date,” he said tersely, hoping to alleviate that worry from her mind. “This outfit of yours is not as seductive as you think it is.”

“Rude.” She scowled at him, but she was shivering.

Ilias’s voice was in his ear again. I don’t want her to be cold.

“Come inside,” Konstantin insisted. “Your brother would expect me to help you.”

“That’s emotional manipulation,” Eloise accused with affront.

“It’s the truth.” He glowered at her.

Eloise rolled her lips together. A strange hotness had arrived behind her eyes and in the back of her throat. She missed Ilias all the time . The promise of talking to someone who remembered him, who had cared about him even a fraction as much as she had, was tempting enough to override all her reservations.

She wasn’t really afraid of Konstantin, anyway. She was afraid of her outsized reaction to him. The tiniest little remark seemed to slide straight through her skin and leave a wide bruise.

But she was freezing and hungry and her brother would have at least expected her to give his best friend a few minutes of her time.

Also, she wanted to give Konstantin her time.

She sighed and walked to the door into the building, allowing him to reach past her and open it for her.

This high-rise was even nicer than the ones she’d been delivering gifts to. The elevator he guided her into read Private above the doors. Konstantin’s fingerprint triggered the single button inside it and it shot skyward in silence.

Eloise wasn’t a stranger to wealth. She’d grown up benefiting from the Drakos fortune, the one her mother had married into and her brother had inherited. She had attended a top boarding school and skied St. Moritz and shopped Paris and Milan every season.

Konstantin was way above that, though. Maybe if he had survived, Ilias would have kept up with Konstantin, but maybe not. Ilias had commented once that Konstantin was driven in a way I never will be . She had always wondered if that had anything to do with Konstantin being an orphan, but who knew with him. He was a private person, as he’d made clear more than once.

The doors opened into a two-story mansion that took up the entire top of the building.

“Let me take your coat.”

She hadn’t had anyone stand behind her and act so chivalrous in a long time. It gave her a shiver as his fingertips grazed her shoulders. She slipped off her boots and felt drawn to peer into his home.

A floating staircase rose on one side. The main floor was an open living space within an arced wall of windows that offered views of the Hudson River and New York Harbor. Comfortable furniture beckoned under gentle lighting and a central fireplace clicked on as she approached it.

“You don’t have a tree,” she noted.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.” Konstantin had removed his overcoat, revealing his red jacket, crisp white shirt, bow tie and black trousers.

She swallowed, freshly accosted by his good looks, but also reminded that he’d been going on a date. A clench of envy squeezed her heart, one that had barbs of inadequacy attached to it. Her whole life, she’d wished to be taller and curvier and capable of exuding authority. Instead, she was “cute”—she loathed that descriptor—and funny and rarely taken seriously. She folded her arms, chilled despite the warmth coming off the flickering flames next to her.

“I can’t take you seriously in that.” He started up the stairs. “Come.”

She cautiously followed him and halted at the double doors to his bedroom. It was expansive and luxurious, with a huge four-poster bed and a sitting area with a desk.

He sent her a pithy look as he peeled off his jacket. “You’re my friend’s baby sister. My designs on you are strictly platonic.”

He disappeared into a walk-in closet, coming back with a pair of drawstring track pants, a blue T-shirt, a cable knit pullover and a fresh pair of white socks.

“Change in there. Help yourself to whatever you need.” He nodded at where a pair of doors stood open, revealing a bathroom twice the size of the apartment she currently shared with a roommate and her roommate’s on-again, off-again girlfriend.

Eloise gathered the clothes and inched into the showpiece of marble and gleaming gold taps. She took in the freestanding tub before the bank of windows, the massive sauna shower and—

“Why is the toilet behind a clear wall?” she called. “Is this a break glass in case of emergency situation or...?”

He walked in and touched a button that cast the cubicle in a gentle glow while darkening its clear walls to opaque.

“Oh. Fancy.” She couldn’t help glancing longingly at the tub. Her building hadn’t had proper hot water in weeks. She’d been making do with birdbaths and heavy use of deodorant.

“Do you want a bath?” He pulled his shirt from his trousers.

Her whole body flushed in panicked confusion. He had just said—

“Alone,” he said dryly, popping his cuffs.

She was starting to despise that patronizing look of his.

“Come downstairs whenever you’re ready.” He walked out, pulling the bathroom doors closed behind him.