THREE days later, Angelos lounged in his glass-fronted office in the villa, trying to concentrate on the page of figures in front of him, his normally razor-sharp mind as blunt as a spoon.
It was only three hours since he’d left Chantal lying in bed and all he wanted to do was return there and pick up where they’d left off. It didn’t matter how long he spent with her, he just wanted more. In fact his hunger had grown to the point where all he could think of was sex.
It was the first time in his life that he’d found a woman to be more absorbing than work. In fact, right at this moment, work seemed like nothing more than an irritating necessity—something to do while Chantal slept off the physical excesses of the night.
Witnessing her stunned reaction to her own sexuality had proved to be indescribably erotic. He’d discovered that there was something infinitely exciting about a passionate woman with absolutely no knowledge of the powers of her own body.
And that was the key to his current problem. She’d been a virgin, which made the whole experience a novelty, and she just adored sex, which doubled the excitement.
In the circumstances, it was hardly surprising that his mind wasn’t on his work.
Staring at the complex spreadsheet on the screen in front of him, he wondered whether to abandon the pretence of working and just indulge in a two week long marathon sex session, designed to cure his obsession with her.
Why not?
He didn’t believe in micro-management. He employed the very best and expected them to get on with the jobs they were being paid to do. Theoretically he should be able to take a break, if that was what he wanted.
And it was.
Given the choice, he would have been hauling her back to bed at every conceivable opportunity during the day. At coffee-time, at lunchtime, after every frustrating phone call—
But that wasn’t an option because she was never around during the day.
On the few occasions he’d prowled onto the terrace, intending to surprise her, he’d discovered that she’d left after breakfast and had no intention of returning until teatime. He felt vaguely irritated by the length of time she spent away from the villa each day. For a woman who claimed not to enjoy shopping, she spent a great deal of time—well, shopping. Or was she sightseeing?
Whichever—she certainly wasn’t lying by the pool dreaming of him and hoping for a midday rendezvous.
He frowned. Perhaps she thought she was doing him a favour by not distracting him from his work. Or possibly she was lonely. It was true that when his father wasn’t resting he was kept busy all day with physiotherapists, nurses and doctors.
Or was she playing a more complicated game altogether?
While it was true that she was very inexperienced, it was also true that she was a woman, with a woman’s instincts. Did she think that by staying out all day she would make him all the more desperate for her?
If so, then her plan was succeeding beyond her wildest dreams.
He was so desperate he was climbing the walls.
Remembering the erotic activities of the night before, Angelos decided that there was nothing going on in his working day that couldn’t be put off until tomorrow. He’d join her shopping or sightseeing or whatever it was she was doing, make it clear that by staying out all day she was not doing him a favour and then he’d bring her back to the villa for a relaxing swim and a siesta.
* * *
Chantal delivered a large lunch order to the group of English tourists who were sitting at the best table in the taverna. ‘Two moussaka, one souvlaki, one meatballs—’
It was impossibly hot, her feet ached, and she was exhausted after yet another night without sleep. She would have given anything to have spent the day sleeping by the pool.
Anything except her pride.
‘Large Greek salad.’ As she placed the plate in the centre of the table she heard the deep, throaty growl of a high performance sports car from somewhere behind her.
One of the men glanced towards the sound. ‘That’s my dream car,’ he muttered enviously, reaching for his beer. ‘When I have my mid-life crisis, I’m ditching my sensible family car and buying that piece of premium engineering.’
‘Hummus and taramasalata—’ Feeling as though she was going to melt in the heat, Chantal deposited the last of the dishes on the table. ‘Can I get you anything else?’
Her question received no response. The men were listing every component of the car and the women were apparently similarly entranced.
One leaned towards the other. ‘Incredible body,’ she breathed, and her friend gave a feline smile.
‘Devastating. Monumental sex appeal.’
It took a moment for Chantal to realise that the women were talking about the driver, not the car. The nerves on the back of her neck prickled and she turned.
Angelos slammed the car door and then strode into the restaurant as if he owned it, his hair glinting blue black in the glare of the sun. His gaze cool and confident, he scanned the tables, apparently unaware of the level of interest his arrival had created.
Then he saw her, and the flash of sexual hunger in his eyes was immediate and unmistakable.
Chantal felt her knees weaken and the look they shared held such intimacy that they might have been back in the bedroom.
‘Obviously he’s taken,’ the woman behind her murmured regretfully, but Chantal barely heard her because her heart was bumping against her chest and now she felt as though her body was melting on the inside as well as the outside.
She gave him a faltering smile and walked over to him.
‘Hello. This is a surprise. Can I get you a drink?’
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ His voice was dangerously soft and out of the corner of her eye Chantal saw the owner of the taverna approach.
‘Working. And I can’t really talk to you now. It’s lunchtime and we’re very busy.’ She started to move away, but strong fingers clamped around her wrist like a vice.
‘You’re working?’ His voice rang with disbelief. ‘What do you mean, working?’
‘Well—’ She cleared her throat, unsure how to answer. ‘I do a job and get paid for it. It’s a fairly standard formula. And I really need to go now, because this is our busiest time and—’
‘Why?’
‘You’re asking an awful lot of obvious questions.’ Casting an apologetic smile at the taverna owner, she tried once again to free herself. ‘I’m working for the same reason everyone else works. Because I need the money.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Before this moment I never considered myself to be stupid, but I honestly cannot think of a reason why you would need money. I gave you my credit card.’
‘I need my own money.’
‘You are entitled to treat my credit card as your own.’
She looked at him in exasperation. ‘I need proper money.’
‘This is the twenty first century. A credit card is proper money,’ he drawled, a sardonic gleam in his eyes. ‘What do you need this “proper money” for?’
‘All the normal things. But mostly to pay you. So using your credit card wouldn’t have helped. I can hardly use your own money to pay you, can I? It rather defeats the object.’
There was an ominous silence. ‘You are working so that you can pay me? That’s where the money you gave me the other afternoon came from?’ He glanced around the restaurant. ‘You have been spending the last three days working here?’
‘Yes.’ Seeing the shock in his eyes, she felt suddenly defensive. ‘What’s wrong with that? Your father is busy during the day, and you’re working. We don’t all have a Swiss bank account full of hidden billions. I’ve already used up all the money I brought with me.’ Aware that virtually everyone in the restaurant was following their exchange, she tried again to move away, but his grip tightened.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Maybe. But not now and not here.’ Mortified, she glanced around her. ‘Everyone is staring, Angelos.’
He frowned slightly and turned his head, taking in the gaping diners in a glance. Two streaks of colour highlighted his impressive cheekbones and he drew in a slow, deep breath. ‘We need to leave this place.’
‘You leave. I’m not going anywhere. You may not think much of this job but it’s the only one I have. And if you don’t let me go, so that I can serve those people over there, then I won’t have it for long.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Because you won’t be coming back here again.’ Treating the customers to a full-on display of Greek volatility, Angelos fired several incomprehensible sentences in the direction of the taverna-owner, who nodded vigorously.
‘My apologies.’ He waved his hands towards Chantal, dismissing her hastily. ‘I didn’t know who you were.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ As the taverna-owner backed away and started clearing tables himself, Chantal looked at Angelos. ‘Who does he think I am?’
‘Mine,’ Angelos said silkily, pulling her towards him with a purposeful movement that was unmistakably possessive. ‘And now we are both leaving.’ Without waiting to hear her response he walked towards the car, his firm grip on her wrist giving her no choice but to follow.
‘Angelos, wait!’ She took two strides to his one, jogging to keep up with him. ‘This is my job.’
‘Not any more. He is going to find someone else to serve his customers.’
‘You can’t do that! I don’t want you to do that.’ Chantal dug her heels in, jerked her arm and freed herself. ‘I need to work.’
‘Not if the purpose of working is to give me money that I don’t want.’ He swung her off her feet and deposited her in the passenger seat. ‘We’ll continue this conversation somewhere more private. I hate public scenes.’
‘Then stop giving people something to stare at! For crying out loud, Angelos—’
‘I don’t want you working,’ he growled, springing into the car with the athletic grace of a jungle cat. ‘You don’t need to work.’
‘Yes, I do. If you won’t let me pay, then I’ll feel as though I’m your—’
‘You’re my what?’ Simmering with anger, he trod hard on the accelerator and the car sped away from the waterfront with a throaty roar. ‘What are you, Chantal? How do you see yourself?’ His anger simmered like a pot of boiling oil and instead of responding she cast a desperate glance over her shoulder.
The restaurant was already fading into the distance. ‘Angelos, take me back! Please.’
‘You are not working in that place.’
She sighed and slumped in her seat. ‘Have you any idea how hard it was to persuade him to give me that job?’
‘I don’t want to think about it.’
‘I don’t understand why you’re so angry.’
‘Don’t you?’ He changed gears viciously. ‘Seeing my woman serving drinks in a bar doesn’t generally do much for my mood.’
His woman?
‘You sound like a caveman.’ The phrase was possessive, and yet it sent a thrill through her body. No matter how much she tried to remind herself that expecting anything from this man was asking for heartbreak, she couldn’t help the feeling of happiness that bathed her entire being.
‘Fine. So I sound like a caveman.’ His harsh tone held not one hint of regret. ‘Get used to it. That’s the man I am.’
‘What about equality?’
‘You’re forgetting.’ At the last minute he braked and took a sharp bend with consummate skill. ‘I celebrate individuality. Men and women are different. They’re supposed to be different.’
She didn’t need him to point out their differences when they were right in front of her nose. Swamped by a feeling of helpless longing, it was a struggle for her to remember her principles. ‘It isn’t all about you, Angelos. I’m here, too.’
‘It is you who I am thinking about!’ His usually flawless English faltered slightly. ‘Are you seriously telling me that you’d rather stand on your feet all day slogging your guts out for a minimum wage than lie by my pool being pampered?’
‘Actually, yes. Because we’re having an—’ she stumbled over the terminology ‘—intimate relationship—I can’t let you pay for me.’
‘If we weren’t having an intimate relationship then I wouldn’t be paying for you.’ Visibly exasperated, he muttered something in Greek under his breath. ‘I admire your principles, but you are taking this too far. It ends now.’
‘You still think I’m just doing it to impress you?’ It occurred to her that they were driving away from the harbour, up into the hills, and now he was negotiating a series of terrifying hairpin bends, his eyes fixed on the road, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel.
‘Yes, but I blame myself for that. My comments on Isabelle Ducat and also on my father’s ex-wives were hardly flattering. But they were not aimed at you. I have never applied those comments to you. You are different.’
‘Yes, I’m different.’ She clutched her seat, wishing he’d slow down. ‘I don’t want to be a kept woman. I need to pay my own way. I need to be useful.’
‘I can think of a million ways in which you can be useful and none of them involve you balancing plates in a busy restaurant. I want no more talk about working and no more talk about paying me.’
‘This isn’t about you, Angelos.’ Her hair blew across her face and she anchored it with her hand. ‘It’s about me. Even if you hadn’t mentioned those other women, I still would have insisted on paying.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s necessary. To not pay would make me feel like a—’ She broke off, realising that she’d led the conversation up a dark, dangerous road that she didn’t want to travel ever again. But it was too late.
With a smooth movement he swung the wheel and stopped the car by the side of the road in a shower of dust. Then he turned towards them, his eyes dangerously stormy. ‘How would it make you feel? Tell me. I want to know.’
Her heart was thumping. ‘Well—’
‘Say it!’
‘As though you’re paying me to have sex.’
‘You are saying that I make you feel like a prostitute?’
The word made her shrink inside. ‘No! I’m not saying that—’
‘Have I ever offered you money in exchange for sex?’ His voice was harsh and she shook her head, struggling with the feeling of nausea that threatened to overtake her.
‘No, but—’
‘There is no but. The answer is just no.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Do you think I brought you to Greece with the intention of seducing you?’
‘No, but this is just normal behaviour for you, and you’re angry because I’m not conforming. You have relationships all the time and I’m willing to bet there’s a standard pattern. You sleep with a woman, you shower her with jewels until you become bored and then you move onto the next one.’ Why, oh why, had she ever started this conversation?
‘Normal behaviour?’ He watched her for a moment, a tiny muscle working in his lean jaw. ‘Let me remind you how “normal” my behaviour has been so far, agape mou. Four days ago I made love to you in my swimming pool, which just happens to be situated on the terrace in full view of most of the villa—’
Her cheeks warmed. ‘You’re a very sexual man.’
‘I’m also a very private man,’ he gritted. ‘With an extraordinarily short attention span and an antisocial work habit. All those traits seem to have vanished since you arrived in Greece.’
‘You’ve worked every day since we arrived.’
‘Since we arrived I have spent approximately eighteen minutes at my computer, and most of that was spent unravelling a problem I caused by not concentrating.’
As the significance of his words slowly dawned on her, she wondered whether the anger in his tone was directed at himself or her. ‘You’re having trouble concentrating?’
He was silent for a moment, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the steering wheel. ‘Never have I spent so much time achieving so little.’ It was as if the confession had been dragged from him and she was silent while she tried to work out why that piece of information should make her feel light-headed.
‘I’m the reason your concentration is affected?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well—’ Discovering that her mouth was dry, Chantal ran her tongue over her lower lip and tried not to allow herself to read too much into it. ‘I suppose that’s pretty normal in a new relationship.’
‘It isn’t normal for me.’ He spoke the words with almost violent emphasis. ‘Neither is arguing in a public place, forgetting contraception, or taking the wrong road when I’m driving. None of those things constitute my normal behaviour.’
Chantal glanced over her shoulder, her heart bumping so hard she could hardly breathe. ‘This is the wrong road?’
Exasperation lighting his dark eyes, he gestured impatiently to the olive groves that clung to the mountain side. ‘Do you see a harbour?’
‘I assumed you’d come this way on purpose.’
‘I was so blind with anger to find you serving food to a lot of rude, ungrateful tourists that I turned left instead of right.’ He glared at her. ‘Why is that funny?’
The darkness inside her had melted away and she couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Can’t you see the funny side?’
‘There is no funny side,’ he said angrily. ‘I hate feeling like this.’
‘Out of control…’ She placed a hand on his thigh, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath her fingers. ‘You’re not a man who likes to be out of control.’
With a driven sigh, he rubbed the tips of his fingers across his forehead. ‘Jannis is probably organising a search party as we speak.’ His reluctant confession was oddly endearing and Chantal felt happiness burst to life inside her.
She couldn’t help it. Even though she knew it was foolish and risky to dream, the fact that she was having such an effect on him made her feel good.
‘Poor Jannis…So—’ her eyes were drawn to the dark hairs on his arms ‘—if your behaviour isn’t normal, what are we going to do?’
‘For a start, I’m taking you back to the villa so that I don’t have to waste part of my working day tracking you down,’ he growled, sliding a hand behind her head and drawing her towards him. ‘From now on I want to know where you are every minute of the day. I want you where I can find you.’
His mouth was so close to hers that she could hardly breathe. ‘I have to check in and out?’
‘No, because you won’t be going anywhere. From now on your world revolves around the bedroom and the pool.’ He breathed the words against her mouth and her head swam and her eyes drifted shut.
She knew she ought to make some sort of protest, but she was desperate for him to kiss her and she didn’t want to delay that activity by speaking. Instead she leaned towards him, closing the distance, unable to resist the passion that drew them together.
He kissed her with devastating expertise, his mouth hungry and demanding, but as her body was consumed by ferocious excitement she made a final, desperate attempt to protect her principles. ‘I need to work.’
‘You’ll be too busy to work,’ he vowed thickly, his hand stroking her ribcage and resting just short of her breast. ‘You’re going to forget this nonsense about working.’
The blood was pounding in her veins and she felt drugged and desperate. She just couldn’t concentrate on anything when he was this close.
Resolving to find a different way to satisfy her principles, she gave up on the idea of returning to the taverna. Her body was on fire and all she wanted to do was go back to the villa. ‘Do you think you can find your way back to the harbour? If you don’t like public displays then I think we should go back really quickly, before we embarrass ourselves more than we already have.’
Casting a searing look in her direction, he started the engine and turned the car.
* * *
Later that evening, Angelos strolled onto the terrace for dinner, replete and re-energized after an extremely satisfying afternoon. A marathon session of explosive, steamy sex had been followed by a profitable work session, his concentration sharpened by the knowledge that Chantal was now safely confined to the villa. He’d left her sated and deliciously sleepy, but already he was looking forward to the night ahead.
She was the most responsive woman he’d ever known.
His father was already seated at the table, a glass of iced lemonade in one hand, the newspaper in the other. ‘Have you seen the share price?’
‘No.’ His mind a long way from the share price, Angelos pulled out the chair opposite and was just wondering where Chantal was when she appeared in the doorway that led from the kitchen.
She was balancing several dishes, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she tried not to drop them.
Remembering the last time he’d seen her cheeks that flushed, Angelos gave a lazy smile and sat back in his chair. ‘Why are you serving food? Has Maria had an accident?’
‘No, she’s busy talking to the dietician.’ Carefully she placed a dish of grilled fish and lemon slices in front of Costas, and then put a dish in front of Angelos. ‘Try it,’ she urged, her eyes sparkling with pride. ‘I want to know what you think.’
Captivated by the triumph in her expression, it took Angelos a moment to drag his eyes from her face to the food in front of him. ‘You want my opinion on moussaka?’
‘On this moussaka, yes. Because I made it. And I did something special with the aubergines.’ Breathless with anticipation, she watched his face anxiously. ‘Does it look all right? Maria said it was good, but I think she was just being kind.’
Unable to hide his astonishment, Angelos stared at her. ‘You cooked? When?’ Noticing the satisfied smile on his father’s face, he realised just how much his question had revealed about their afternoon activity.
‘Maria taught me. We made dolmades, too. Pretty fiddly, but I did OK, I think.’ Beaming with pride, Chantal slid into the seat next to him and waited expectantly. ‘Are you going to try it?’
Angelos was still adjusting to the fact that she’d surprised him yet again.
She hadn’t been lying in bed, recovering. She’d been slaving in the kitchen, in the heat, cooking him dinner. ‘Why?’
‘Because you need to eat.’
‘No.’ His tone was impatient as he searched for an answer to his question. ‘I mean why are you cooking for me when I employ Maria for that task? You should have been relaxing.’
‘Maria is very busy shopping and preparing your father’s special diet, and she has the whole of the villa to look after. If I can cook, then I can help her.’
‘You don’t need to help her.’ His words drew her gaze, and suddenly there was a stubborn tilt to her chin that he hadn’t seen before.
‘You won’t let me earn money, so this will be my contribution.’
‘I don’t want your contribution.’ He saw the hurt in her eyes and cursed himself for being tactless. ‘I don’t mean that I don’t want the food. I just mean that you don’t need to cook.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She reached forward and served herself a generous helping. ‘You’re very old-fashioned—do you know that?’
Angelos drew a deep breath. ‘I am certainly not old-fashioned.’
‘You are. You don’t want a woman to work. You’re not comfortable with the whole concept of equality.’ She dissected the food on her plate with a fork, examining each layer with the delight of a child opening a present. ‘You think a woman should spend her life on a sun lounger, ready for you whenever you want to take a break from your pressing work schedule.’
‘That is not true.’
‘Then why did you make me give up my job?’
Costas looked interested. ‘Job? What job?’
‘I found myself a job in a taverna.’ Chantal smiled at his father. ‘But Angelos didn’t want me working there.’
Costas chuckled. ‘I’m starting to understand why he has been so bad-tempered during the day.’
‘I have not been bad-tempered.’ Angelos lifted his wine. ‘And it is ridiculous to suggest that I don’t want women to work. A large proportion of my senior executives are women.’
‘But I’m ready to bet that they’re not women you have relationships with,’ Chantal said mildly. ‘I’m sure you neatly separate your work and social life. Which makes you hypocritical as well as old-fashioned. You’re happy for a woman to work, just not your woman. From that I assume you usually date heiresses.’
It occurred to him that he’d never felt so out of control of a conversation. ‘Why would you assume that?’
‘Because you don’t want women to take your money, but you don’t want them to make their own money, either. That rules out a large chunk of the population and really only leaves heiresses.’
Aware that his father was following the exchange with delight, Angelos gritted his teeth. ‘This conversation is pointless.’
‘You’re just saying that because you’re losing the argument.’ She looked at his plate. ‘Aren’t you at least going to try the moussaka? I think it’s very good. I’m proud of it.’
‘Most women would be delighted that a man is prepared to support them,’ Angelos growled as he picked up his fork. ‘Just because I don’t happen to think a woman should pay when she’s in a relationship with me, it doesn’t make me old-fashioned or hypocritical.’
‘But you’re very wary that a woman might only be interested in your money. Which makes it all rather contradictory, doesn’t it? It makes the whole thing very confusing for you, and even more confusing for me.’
Costas started to laugh, and once he started he couldn’t stop, the spasms shaking his body. ‘That has to be the first time a woman has ever beaten you in an argument. Come to think of it, she’s probably the first woman you’ve ever spent time with who can string a sentence together. She’s perfect, Angelos.’ He reached for a napkin and mopped his eyes, trying to get himself under control. ‘An original, just like your mother. That woman always tied me in knots. Manipulated me into saying all sorts of things I didn’t mean.’
‘Was she an heiress?’ Chantal asked the question with interest, and Angelos watched as his father’s gaze misted again.
‘She was just a girl,’ Costas said gruffly. ‘A girl that I loved. And I would have loved her the same way whether she’d been rich or poor. And she could cook. That is where I went wrong with the other two. They couldn’t cook.’
‘Why would they need to? They didn’t eat,’ Angelos pointed out dryly, and his father shuddered.
‘Do not remind me.’ He looked longingly across the table. ‘Perhaps I should try the moussaka?’
‘The doctor wanted you to eat the fish,’ Chantal said firmly, ‘and it’s delicious. Maria and I baked it in lemon and Greek herbs. Try it. I want to know if you like it. If not, I’ll strike it off our list. We’re trying something different every day.’ She watched expectantly, a sparkle in her eyes, and Costas obediently picked up his fork and ate.
‘So you went and found yourself a job?’
‘That’s right.’ She heaped his plate with salad. ‘Obviously there’s limited opportunity for employment around here, but I needed the money.’
Costas sampled the fish. ‘It’s delicious.’
‘You like it? Really?’ Delighted, Chantal smiled, and Angelos found himself staring hungrily at her mouth. It didn’t matter whether she was smiling, talking or kissing—her mouth was incredible.
Costas was devouring his food with enthusiasm. ‘Don’t listen to Angelos. You can cook for me again tomorrow. If it tastes like this, you can cook for me every day.’
‘I’ll bring the menus to you and you can tell me what you like best. We can adapt them together.’ Chantal reached across the table and took the salt from his hand. ‘Don’t add salt,’ she scolded gently. ‘It isn’t good for you.’
‘I like salt.’
‘The herbs should give you all the seasoning you need.’
Angelos lounged in his chair, watching the spirited interchange in amused silence. It had been years since he’d seen his father so relaxed and content.
Not since his mother was alive.
And there was no doubt who was responsible for the change in him.
Chantal.
She sampled the food on her own plate tentatively, chewing slowly. Then she gave a low, appreciative murmur, the sound so sensual and evocative that his body hardened in an instantaneous response.
Watching her across the table, he decided that his father was correct about one thing—there was something indescribably erotic about a woman who enjoyed her food.
She glanced at him and paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. ‘You’re not eating. Is something wrong?’
Angelos glanced at his plate and realised that he’d forgotten to eat. ‘It’s too hot.’
‘No, it’s not. Maria told me you prefer it served slightly cooler, so that’s what I did. Don’t you like it?’
‘It’s delicious.’
‘Then what’s the matter?’ She put her fork down, her gaze self conscious. ‘You’re staring at me.’
She was the matter. She had a volcanic effect on his libido.
Suddenly he couldn’t wait for the meal to end so that he could take her back to bed.
‘He is not used to being with a woman who eats,’ Costas said cheerfully. ‘The sight is as rare as a snow leopard in the middle of Athens.’
Aware that the faster he ate, the sooner the evening would end, Angelos swiftly finished the food on his plate and then served himself an extra helping just to please her.
He ate quickly, but was forced to wait until his father and Chantal had finished discussing the relative merits of different forms of exercise.
Finally his father yawned and excused himself. Immediately Angelos rose and led Chantal back into the bedroom.
‘Don’t you want coffee?’ She gave a gasp as he pulled her hard against him.
‘No,’ he growled, his mouth sliding down the inviting curve of her neck. ‘I don’t want coffee. Nor do I want fruit or conversation. In fact, agape mou, the only thing I want is you. Naked. Right now.’
Her head tilted back and her eyes drifted shut. ‘Don’t do that. I can’t think when you do that—’
‘I don’t want you to think.’
‘Angelos…’ She gave a low whimper. ‘We only got out of bed a few hours ago.’
‘That was a mistake. We should never have left the bed.’ He stroked a hand over the curve of her bottom and it was his turn to groan. ‘I can’t decide whether this is your best feature. I need you naked so that I can assess all your qualities together.’
Her fingers dug into his shoulder. ‘My bottom is too big.’
‘Your bottom is perfect. You are perfect. Even my father adores you,’ he said as he bent his head and kissed her neck. ‘You are playing an important part in his recovery and I’m grateful for that. Don’t think I don’t know that you are the reason he’s eating properly, and has swapped his wine for juice and water.’
‘I adore him.’ She pulled away slightly and gave a faltering smile. ‘In fact, I envy you.’
‘You do?’ His eyes narrowed. It was the first time she’d shown any interest in his financial status.
‘Yes, you’re incredibly lucky. I’d do anything to have a father like yours.’
It wasn’t the comment he’d been expecting, and it took a moment for her words to register. ‘You envy me my father?’
‘Yes.’ She looked into his eyes and then frowned slightly. ‘Why? What did you think I was going to say?’
Deciding that this was one of those occasions when it was best not to be honest, Angelos stayed silent, but she breathed in sharply and stepped away from him. ‘You assumed I envied you your wealth.’ She watched him for a moment and then gave a little laugh. ‘You still don’t know me at all, do you?’
‘It was a natural assumption. No one has envied me my father before.’
‘I’m sure they have. He’s lovely.’ There was something in her wistful tone that caught his attention.
‘Is your own father alive?’
He saw her sudden tension, and then she pulled away from him. ‘He and my mother didn’t—’ She stopped. ‘They didn’t stay in touch. I have no idea where he is now.’
‘You’ve never tried to trace him?’
She stilled, her back to him. ‘No.’
‘Is he the source of your insecurities?’ Angelos put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘Is he the reason you have a low opinion of yourself?’
For a moment she didn’t answer, and then she raised herself on tiptoe and brushed her mouth against his. ‘Just kiss me, Angelos,’ she murmured huskily. ‘Stop talking and kiss me.’
He realised just how little he knew about her life, but the blood was pounding in his head and the touch of her mouth against his drove all rational thought from his head. Since when had it become a challenge to concentrate on anything?
All he wanted to do was rip her clothes off and explore her lush, spectacular body in minute detail.
Driven by the thunderous force of his libido, Angelos tumbled her back onto the bed and brought his mouth down on hers, his hands swiftly removing her clothes from her deliciously squirming body.
‘Angelos, please—’ Her soft whimper of desperation removed every last scrap of his self-control and the need to satisfy his sexual hunger took precedence over everything else.
With something close to desperation he came down on top of her and immediately she parted her legs, her silky-soft thighs brushing against his as she arched expectantly.
Responding to an urge so powerful that it went far beyond anything he had experienced before, he thrust into her soft, damp core, her immediate moan of pleasure adding still more fuel to his passion. She was hot and tight and he was so overwhelmed by how good she felt that he drove deep in his need to satisfy the almost agonising attack of lust that gripped him.
Her nails dug into his shoulders and she gasped his name one more time and then he felt the orgasm ripple through her body, drawing him over the edge.
His world exploded and he thrust hard, swallowing her whimpers of ecstasy with the demands of his mouth as he emptied his body into hers.
In the aftermath, neither of them spoke. Neither of them was able to speak.
After what seemed like an age, Angelos rolled back against the pillows and gathered her against him, unwilling to let her go even for a moment. ‘Tell me why you were working as a cleaner.’
She didn’t answer immediately. ‘It was the only job I could find when I arrived in Paris.’
‘Where were you before Paris?’
‘Buenos Aires. I worked with horses for a while.’
‘Presumably that’s where you learned to tango?’ He suddenly discovered that he wanted to know everything about her. He wasn’t comfortable with the knowledge that he knew so little of her life. ‘And before that?’
‘I travelled in Peru. And before that I was in India, Australia and New Zealand…’
Listening to the endless list of countries that she’d visited, he found himself more and more intrigued. ‘Obviously you’re not one for putting down roots.’ He rolled onto his side so that he could look at her, but immediately her eyes slid from his.
‘I’m not really a roots sort of person. I just wanted to travel.’
‘Did you go to university?’ Even though he was looking at her profile he saw something alter in her expression.
‘No.’ Her tone was flat. ‘I didn’t.’
‘But you’re obviously very bright—’
‘I didn’t do that well at school. I didn’t like school. Can we talk about something else?’ She sat up sharply, as if something had upset her. ‘What about you? Tell me how you came to make your billions.’
Judging from her tense expression that it was best to allow her the change of subject, Angelos tugged her back down into his arms. ‘I didn’t like school, either. I found it very restricting. I wanted to do things my way.’
The tension in her body eased and she relaxed against him. ‘I expect you had to be first in everything?’
‘Of course.’
A bubble of laughter escaped her lips. ‘You haven’t changed much, have you?’
‘No.’ Pleased to see her back to her good natured self, Angelos continued to talk. ‘My father was a very successful man. He wanted me to join his business.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘Of course not. Where would be the challenge in that? I had no desire to be a caretaker for a business that someone else had developed.’
‘So you did your own thing.’ She slid her arm around him. ‘It’s nice to know that you’re vulnerable, like everyone else.’
Vulnerable?
Startled by her interpretation of his motives, Angelos frowned up at the ceiling. ‘How am I vulnerable?’
‘You obviously wanted to prove something to your father.’
Considering that possibility for the first time in his life, Angelos gave a surprised laugh. ‘You’re probably right—but don’t tell my competitors. If they hear a rumour that I’m vulnerable, my working life will become far more challenging and I will have less time to spend in bed with you.’
‘I expect your father is very proud of you.’ There was a wistful note in her voice that caught his attention.
‘What about you?’ Deciding that he’d backed off enough, he gently eased the subject back to her own childhood. ‘If your father wasn’t around, then presumably it was your mother who brought you up? Where did you live?’
‘We moved around a lot when I was young, and then later I was at boarding school. That’s enough talking for now. I’m tired, Angelos. Goodnight.’ She rolled over so that her back was facing him and tugged the silk sheet up over her shoulders, the gesture clearly declaring that the subject was closed.
Angelos stared in silence at her tense body, his mind working overtime.
It was obvious that she found any mention of her mother, her childhood or her schooldays extraordinarily stressful. Obviously it hadn’t been a good time for her, and yet it was equally obvious that she was bright and intelligent and should have excelled.
He wanted to continue the conversation—he wanted to understand her—and that thought troubled him, because he’d never before had the slightest inclination to understand a woman.
Deciding that he would achieve more by continuing the conversation when she was more relaxed, he lay down and pulled her into his arms.
He didn’t mind her sleeping with her back to him, but there was no way he was allowing her to shut herself off.