For the very first time in their marriage she ignored her husband, moving forward to watch the bank executive produce the box and leave it on the table before quietly leaving the small, bare room. The key for a safety-deposit box, presumably belonging to her father, for why else would it have been put in her hand? She ignored him. “Give it to me,’ Nik grated in a driven undertone, his simmering tension leaping out at her in an electrifying wave. The solicitor stuffed a key in her hand abruptly and then turned away. Were there more shares in that precious shipping line on offer? How could any man with Nik’s fabulous wealth and assets be so disgustingly greedy? He had married her out of greed, hadn’t he? Something for nothing. The magical mystery tour, she reflected grimly. As one of them, Leah felt a creature sympathy for the middle-aged man with his flushed, strained face.Ī lift took them down to the vaults. In the wrong mood- too frequently the only mood in which Leah saw him- his manners were atrocious towards those unfortunates he considered to be lesser beings.

From below her lashes she stole a glance at her husband. One of them, whom she recognised as her father’s solicitor, attempted to speak to her. And the building was a bank, she registered. Nik strode ahead of her into the nearest building. Leah climbed out, too proud to ask yet again where they were going but looking around. The car drew up on a busy, crowded street. If she had been his real wife, she wouldn’t have dared to sneak around with another man behind his back.Ī limousine collected them at Charles de Gaulle Airport, carrying them through the heavy late afternoon traffic. He was also manipulative, arrogant and vicious towards those who opposed or antagonised him. He was volatile, ruthless and unpredictable. Nik Andreakis, with his smouldering Greek temperament and movie-star looks, didn’t touch her on any physical or emotional level. But now she was utterly detached from Nik and prided herself on the fact. Who better than Leah to recognise the symptoms? After all, she had once been a victim herself. The beautiful brunette had a bad dose of infatuation.

On the private jet she flicked through magazines but her mouth curled several times as she watched the stewardess hover round Nik like some harem concubine, desperate to attract the sultan’s favour. Why shouldn’t she be greedy for what she had never had?

Nik had stolen her youth, the teenage years when she should have been dating and having fun and loving. And she was hungry to live a life of her own, hungry for the freedom which beckoned so tantalisingly on the horizon. In Paris, she would tell Nik that she wanted a divorce.

The unfaithful wife by lynne graham