CHAPTER 3

          She’d gone back to blabbing. The man lowered himself lithely into the seat next to her and reached for his seat belt with a fluid movement. He cast a frowning look at Cheryl.

“My… what?”

“Your girlfriend. The one I spiled the juice over…”

          His eyes cleared.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

          He said the word as if it were deeply alien to him like he just met the woman on the streets and decided to take her with him at the party. Something lifted in Cheryl. Something she knew was quite pointless, but it did all the same.

          Wonderful! That bitchy snob hadn’t been his girlfriend. Still, it wouldn’t matter if she was, anyway!

          ‘Good God, Cher! What do you think this is? Some kind of pick-up? For some reason, the man feels a sense of obligation that you’ve lost your job, and is giving you a lift! That’s all! Chill out, please! And remember to breathe from time to time,’ she said to herself and took a slight breath.

“The end of Bond Street will be fine. Thank you very much,” she said and swallowed hard.

          The man didn’t say anything, just instructed his driver to go, and the car moved forward. Cheryl sank back into the leather seat. It was deep and luxurious, as was the rest of the car. She had never been inside a car so upmarket, and she couldn’t help looking around.

          The man was leaning forward, depressing, and couldn’t help looking around. The man was leaning forward, depressing a button, and a recessed shelf slid forward into the spacious leg-well between them.

          Her eyes widened. There was a bottle of champagne and several flutes. Before she could say or do anything, Cheryl was watching with disbelieving fascination as the man lifted the champagne bottle, eased it expertly open, and with equal expertise took up a flute, tilted it, and filled it with foaming liquid. Then he handed it to her.

“Um… I don’t usually drink… Not at this hour…” Cheryl said.

          Still, she found she had taken the flute anyway. The smallest semblance of a smile seemed to flicker momentarily at the man’s mouth before he filled his own glass and replaced the bottle in its holder. He eased back in his seat again and turned towards Cheryl, who was just sitting there, disbelievingly.

“It’s very good champagne, I can assure you,” the man said.

          Again, that smile flickered briefly on his mouth, as if he found her reaction amusing. He took a considering mouthful of the gently effervescing liquid. She was lost in watching him.

“Yes, quite good,” he said. You should really try it.”

          Cheryl lifted the glass to her mouth and sipped. The chilled pale gold champagne slipped into her mouth, tasting delicious. Her eyes widened. She knew almost nothing about champagne, but she could tell that this was, indeed, extremely good.

“What do you think of it?” the man asked.

          The smoothness was in his voice again, and it seemed to glide over Cheryl, doing strange things to her. Like getting her to drink a glass of champagne with a man who was a complete stranger.

          But they were in the middle of Bond Street! It might seem bizarre, but for Cheryl, it wasn’t dangerous or anything! And it was also… exciting, sexy as hell. Irresistible!  The word was the right one, she knew, because it summed up what seemed to be going on in her… an inability to resist.

“It’s… lovely,” she said.

          She didn’t know what else to say, and it was the truth. Cautiously, she took another sip. ‘I’m drinking champagne with a tall, dark, handsome stranger. It’s something that will never happen to me twice in my life, so I might as well make the most of the experience!’

“I’m glad you like it,” the man said, as he took another sip himself.

          He eased his long legs forward. His eyes were resting on her, and Cheryl felt intensely self-conscious. ‘Oh, God, he really is gorgeous,’ she thought helplessly. Beneath his disturbing gaze, she felt her nerve-ends jitter. Instinctively, she took another taste of the champagne. It fizzed down her throat, its native effervescence seeming to infect her blood.

“So, where would you like to eat tonight?” he said out of nowhere.

          The voice was again as smooth as ever. Cheryl stared.

“Eat?”

          The man gestured loosely with his half-empty flute.

“Of course,” he said as if it had been the most logical thing in the world to say to her.

          The most obvious. An edge of caution cut into her mind. Cheryl looked at him, really looked at him. He met her eyes.

“But… I don’t know who you are,” she said, in a low, strained voice. “You could be anyone… To me you’re just a stranger, someone I met just now, on the streets…”

                                                     *************

          He smiled bitterly and shook his head. Nikolas had never been told he ‘could be anyone’ before. What was happening intrigued him. But then the entire novelty of what he’d just done, what he was still doing, and what he fully intended to do, was intriguing him. It was an experience he’d never had, and it had charms he hadn’t anticipated.

          His identity had never been in question before. Yet he could understand her caution and be pleased for it… It made her even more appealing to him. Half of his mind was telling him he was behaving with a rashness he would inevitably regret. The other half was determined to continue on the path his impulsiveness had started.

          After all, what real risk was there? There was nothing about the girl that was off-putting. Just the reverse. His original opinion of her had not changed one iota. She was, indeed, dreamy. So why not indulge his inexplicable whim and continue the evening with her? Besides, there had been something else that had made him so impulsively order his driver to stop.

          It was something to do with the way she had been walking, rapidly, but hunched up, head bowed. She’d looked down, hopeless, sad. Clearly, she needed something to cheer her up. Take her mind off her anguishes.

          So, the impulse he was following would be good for her, too, Nikolas was very sure about it. He would expect nothing of her she didn’t wish, and he would let her go when she’d express her will to do so.

          But it would be a pity to do so now, so soon. Time to set her mind at rest. She was right, after all, to be cautious. Cities such as London could be dangerous for vulnerable and beautiful young women.

          He slipped a hand inside his inner breast pocket and drew out a slim silver card case, flicking it open and offering her a card from within.

“I strongly believe this will reassure you,” he said.

          She took the card and looked at it.

“Nikolas Adamos,’ she read and his name coming out from her lips sounded like a melody.

“You may have heard of the ‘Adamos Group’?” Nikolas said, a hint of arrogance and pride in his voice.

          The girl shook her head. The sense of novelty struck Nikolas again. He had never encountered anyone who hadn’t heard the name of Adamos. But then, of course, he moved in circles where everyone knew who had money and what that money came from. Why should he expect a simple waitress to know such things?

“It is listed on several stock exchanges and is capitalized at just under several billion euros. I’m the CEO, and my father’s the chairman. So, as you can see, I’m sure, that I’m quite respectable, and that you are and going to be, perfectly safe with me.”

                                                    ***************

          Cheryl looked at him. His name, Nikolas, seemed to quiver inside her as if a vibration had been struck, very deep in her body. There was an uncertain expression on her face. She ought to go. She ought to ask him to stop the car and let her out. So that she could walk quickly away. Back to her little flat, in that little run-down house where she didn’t know anyone, to eat toasted cheese for supper as she always did.

          The prospect seemed miserable, unappealing, and into her mind crept another thought. ‘Would it be so very wrong to have dinner with him? This Nikolas Adamos, the CEO of whatever? I’m pretty sure drinking champagne in a luxury car with a man who’s obviously a billionaire and then having dinner with him isn’t going to happen twice in this lifetime.’

          Still, it wasn’t his obvious wealth, or the luxury car and the overflowing flutes of champagne that tempted her. It was HIM, the man next to her. The man who took her breath away when she’d first set eyes on him, at the art gallery party. The man she’d been unable not to stare at, to catalog as the most amazingly good-looking creature she’d ever seen in her life.

          She could feel part of her brain pushing her to step back, to stay put, to say no. The part that was sensible, cautious, and sane. But there was another part that seemed to be pushing its way forward. That was telling her something that was getting more insistent. More persuasive. More tempting to listen to.

          ‘Why not, Cher? Honestly, why not, girl? Your social life sucks … In fact, you have none. You don’t exactly have a million friends to visit, here or elsewhere. You don’t exactly have anything else desperately urgent to do this evening, do you? So why not? What have you got to lose?’

“So,” Nikolas said, interrupting her thoughts.

          His voice was still smooth, and again made her feel strange and fluttery inside.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”