LITMIR.BIZ

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I’ll miss you, I’m certainly not about to try and make you change your mind.’

      Relieved by that exchange, Elvi lay still until a tiny sniff alerted her to the reality that her mother was crying and she slid straight out of bed and wrapped her arms around the older woman as well as she could with the duvet separating them. ‘I love you,’ she framed, feeling ridiculously guilty about moving out even though she knew she didn’t want to move but had to for Xan Ziakis’s benefit.

      ‘Things will settle down again. This is only a rough patch,’ the older woman told her more cheerfully. ‘I’ll find work. Daniel will start classes and we’ll all go back to normal again. We only have to be patient and strong.’

      * * *

      The next morning, Daniel accompanied Elvi to the Tube station with her single suitcase. ‘You’re moving in with a man, aren’t you?’ he shot unexpectedly at his sister, and when she glanced up with pink cheeks and a look of guilt, he laughed. ‘Yeah, thought so. Mum’s worried some smartass is taking advantage of you—’

      ‘I’m not stupid,’ Elvi declared, but saw no reason to add any further details when she was sure she would be moving back home again within a couple of months, if not sooner.

      ‘Well, you are rushing into this too fast, but that’s your business,’ her sibling conceded, halting to pass her the case, which was too old to have handy wheels attached. ‘Look after yourself, sis, and make sure you visit us when I’m not working.’

      Tears were prickling in Elvi’s eyes by the time she boarded the train and she gave herself an urgent reality check, reminding herself of the theft charge that would be dropped and the sheer guilt and strain that would drop away and allow her mother and brother to continue their lives without further harm. It would be worth it, she told herself urgently, absolutely worth anything she had to do to achieve that desirable result.

      The apartment in an elegant building overlooking the Thames was much larger and fancier than she had dimly expected. She wandered around barefoot on opulent marble floors, viewing the beautiful and immaculate living area with its leather sofas and contemporary paintings. She walked out onto the balcony to take in the busy view of the river before entering a kitchen equipped with every necessity as well as a fully stocked fridge and freezer. She marvelled at the two separate opulent bathrooms she discovered off the very spacious bedroom, as well as a dressing room fitted with loads of closet space. It was a property prepared for the sort of woman who took a great deal of interest in her appearance, she reasoned with raised brows, noting the number of mirrors and racks for shoes and handbags. She was starting to unpack her case when the doorbell pinged.

      A svelte older woman carrying garment bags greeted her. ‘I’m Sylvia. Mr Ziakis asked me to choose an outfit for you to wear tonight.’

      So, it begins, Elvi acknowledged ruefully, her new life as an object. Xan hadn’t bothered to tell her personally that he planned to take her somewhere that very evening and how had he even known she had moved in? Were there secret cameras installed? she wondered apprehensively.

      ‘Nothing will be a perfect fit until I take your measurements,’ Sylvia announced, unfurling a measuring tape. ‘Could we take this into the bedroom? It would be more comfortable for you to try on the dresses I’ve brought for you to choose from.’

      Elvi wasn’t comfortable in any way having to strip down to her underwear for a complete stranger but she compressed her lips and did what she had to do, barely pausing to glance at her reflection in blue dress after blue dress.

      ‘Only blue?’ she queried.

      ‘Mr Ziakis specified blue,’ she was told as Sylvia whisked the tape over her figure and jotted down measurements on her tablet. ‘Seems to be his new favourite colour, at least for you—’

      ‘You’ve done this before for him with other women, haven’t you?’ Elvi commented.

      ‘Every service that my company offers Mr Ziakis is completely confidential,’ Sylvia countered with perfect diplomacy.

      Elvi wasn’t listening. Xander Ziakis was evidently a serial womaniser, given to keeping mistresses whom he placed in an apartment and dressing them from head to toe in his choice of colour and fashion. She was appalled and soon wondering how many other women had lived in the apartment before her and whether he had cared in any way about a single one of them. When he had said he was more about the physical than the cerebral, he hadn’t been joking. Her attention strayed to the vast divan bed she had studiously ignored since her arrival and she breathed in deep, striving not to think about the sex aspect.

      After all, thinking about it wasn’t going to make it go away and dwelling on something she couldn’t avoid would be foolish. She tried on the half-dozen dresses and vanished into one of the bathrooms to find the right size for the fancy lingerie Sylvia had placed on the bed. She chose the dress that fitted the best and hid the most, not being a fan of her own cleavage. Her back and arms and legs would be on show and that was quite enough, in her opinion. She had to practise walking in the very high heeled sandals and they pinched her toes horribly. It was a very great shame that wearing a designer outfit that probably cost hundreds if not thousands of pounds had never been on her bucket list, she conceded ruefully.

      What on earth did Xan want with a young woman like her? For goodness’ sake, she was a shop girl, or had been until she’d quit earlier that day in a very uncomfortable phone call to her employer. She was ordinary, not special, not a beauty, no great wit. What did Xan see in her that was so desirable he would go to such lengths to have her?

      She looked in the mirror. Her body—what a lowering thought that was, she reflected unhappily. He didn’t know her, wouldn’t waste time even trying to get to know her; he only wanted to have sex with her, and the fancy apartment and the ridiculously big wardrobe Sylvia had insisted she would need were simply the luxury trappings that she was expected to be delighted to receive. She had no doubt that other women had enjoyed those benefits from sharing their bodies with a very, very rich man but, unfortunately for her, she wasn’t one of them. She felt cheapened by living in an apartment Xan owned, wearing clothes and eating food provided by him. It felt too much like being paid for sex. But that was the arrangement she had agreed to, she reminded herself, and she did not see that she could do much about it.

      For the first time in over a year, when a bout of flu had forced him to deviate from his routine, Xan finished at the office early. He acknowledged that Elvi roused an unusual sense of excitement that was new to his experience. It was nothing he couldn’t handle though, he thought, choosing to be amused by his mood rather than disturbed by it. She was new, she was fresh, there was nothing odd about his interest. He was a normal guy, his libido inflamed by the prospect of a different woman. He texted her the time she would be picked up and smiled.

      Elvi was disconcerted when the bell went shortly before eight and she was confronted with Dmitri on the doorstep. ‘Ready?’ he asked flatly, somehow radiating disapproval in waves.

      Her complexion flaming, Elvi dug her key into the fancy clutch that matched her ridiculous shoes and preceded him into the lift he had already had waiting for her. ‘What’s your job with Xan?’ she enquired stiffly.

      ‘I’m the head of his security team. Does Sally know about this?’ he framed.

      ‘Of course not,’ Elvi parried uncomfortably. ‘I don’t want her to know either.’

      The older man released his breath impatiently and said nothing more, but the attitude he emanated had left her in no doubt that he had guessed exactly what her new role in his employer’s life was and she was mortified by the deep sense of shame that engulfed her.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ Xan heard himself demand as soon as he saw her, because instead of the smile, the warmth that he had somehow vaguely expected from her, she was flushed and stiff as a waxwork with her usual glow absent.

      ‘Nothing,’ Elvi responded tightly.

      ‘I hate it when people lie to me,’ Xan told her warningly.

      ‘Well,

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