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The Reluctant Fiancee
JACQUELINE BAIRD
Second-time seduction!Bea has been reunited with Leon Gregoris, her ex-fiance. But this time Leon won't mesmerize her with his dark Greek-Cypriot good looks. Bea is older and in charge of herself now; she won't be captive to sexual chemistry! Then Leon announces they are engaged again - which is news to Bea!Before she can protest, Leon has whisked her away to his luxury villa in Cyprus. And guess what: that same mutual, intense physical attraction is as strong as ever. Bea might be unwilling to be Leon's fiancee a second time, but it's proving harder to steer clear of his bed!Another passionate, power-packed read by favorite author Jacqueline Baird.


“You can’t force me to stay here. You have no right.” (#u5999600e-f6eb-5e9e-bf47-d3874576a116)About the Author (#u41b55c59-38ef-571b-baf2-367cb5761bcb)Title Page (#u0e264858-0cf0-5c37-b126-5894e8939ecf)CHAPTER ONE (#u3fc9a540-f72e-594f-b369-a93eaaa5241b)CHAPTER TWO (#u10b1a5bb-008a-5c3d-b52b-1aec1140fdb9)CHAPTER THREE (#u83b3ba25-50ba-5f3e-a1a7-1b7bb65f1970)CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“You can’t force me to stay here. You have no right.”
“You are not leaving here,” Leo interrupted.
“I brought you here to protect you, and that is what I am going to do.”
“Protect me?” she protested. “Is that what you call it? Invading a girl’s bedroom—”
“Be careful what you say, Phoebe,” he cut in ruthlessly, “or I will be forced to remind you just how willing a bed partner you were.” His hand touched her cheek and stroked back to tangle in her hair. “And you will be again.”
JACQUELINE BAIRD began writing as a hobby when her family objected to the smell of her oil painting, and immediately became hooked on romance. She loves traveling, and worked her way around the world from Europe to the Americas and Australia, returning to marry her teenage sweetheart. Jacqueline and husband Jim live in Northumbria, England, and they have two grown sons.
The Reluctant Fiancee

Jacqueline Baird



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CHAPTER ONE
BEA looked around the crowded room, her full lips twitching in a wry grimace. Music blared from two amplifiers, gyrating bodies were everywhere and the flashing lights were giving her a headache. She should be enjoying herself; after all she was in her living room! It was her twenty-first birthday party! Her friends!
She turned her back on the crowd and stared out of the tall Georgian window to the blackness beyond. Bea lifted a fluted champagne glass to her mouth and took a sip of the bubbly. It was as flat as she felt. It was futile to worry, she knew, but she did not seem to be able to help it.
Tomorrow she was travelling down to London, and on Monday she would start work as a junior partner in the firm of Stephen-Gregoris, an import and export firm started forty years ago by her late father, John Stephen, and his greek Cypriot friend, Nick Gregoris. But it wasn’t the thought of work that bothered her, or the fact that the firm had diversified into other areas. No, her real worry was that she would have to meet Leon Gregoris again.
Leon Gregoris was the chairman and managing director, and a despot to boot, as she knew from past experience... Also, until today, he had been the trustee of her thirty per cent share of the business, left to her by her father.
As a child Bea had considered Leon a friend, even though he was fourteen years older than her. But that had ended when her father had died. For the last three years any communication between them had been strictly business, conducted through lawyers and the occasional telephone call.
An orphan at seventeen, Bea had stayed on in the home she had shared with her father in Northumbria. Her mother had died when she was a baby and it was her honorary aunty Lil and her uncle Bob who had looked after her.
They still did. A fond smile curved Bea’s full lips. She was going to miss the elderly couple when she was in London. She had never really had to take care of herself before. While attending the University of Newcastle upon Tyne she had simply travelled in every day. Now she was the proud recipient of a first-class degree in Maths and Accountancy, and on Monday she would take her place in her father’s firm!
A frown creased her smooth brow. Leon Gregoris was the only fly in the ointment; she cringed at the thought of seeing him, not at all sure of her ability to face up to him.
For heaven’s sake! Was she a woman? Or a wimp? She shook her head dismissively. She was bright, intelligent, and no longer the naive eighteen-year-old girl she had been when she had last seen Leon, in love with the idea of love.
‘Humph!’ she snorted, disgusted with the memory of her much younger, gullible self. ‘You’re a fool, Bea. You have nothing to worry about.’ she told herself firmly, and, lifting her glass, she took another large swallow of champagne, unaware she had spoken out loud.
‘If you say so, Phoebe, darling. Far be it from me to disagree with a lady.’
The deep melodious voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She would have known that voice anywhere. Her hand tightened, white-knuckled, on the stem of her glass. It couldn’t be! She raised her eyes and stared at the couple reflected in the window pane.
Her own reflection showed a young woman of average height with straight silver-blonde hair and pale, bare shoulders. She wore a silver Spandex sheath dress that clung to the soft curves of firm breasts and on down to fit like a second skin over feminine hips, ending mid-thigh and exposing long, shapely legs.
All the colour left Bea’s face. The picture she presented was almost ghostly, but there was nothing ghostlike about the tall, dark man hovering behind her. Warlock, more like! she thought grimly. Wide shoulders seemed to shadow her. The harsh, handsome features had not changed a jot, she realised, swallowing hard. Too long black wavy hair, and even blacker piercing eyes. Slowly turning around to face him, she silently added, And an even blacker heart...
‘You, Leon,’ she murmured, finally finding her voice and hating the way it quavered. She tilted her head back and looked up into his tanned, attractive face. He was watching her, laughter lighting his dark eyes. He knew damn well he had shocked her rigid. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded curtly. ‘I didn’t invite you.’
‘An oversight on your part, Phoebe, but I forgive you.’ he drawled mockingly. ‘You know I wouldn’t miss your twenty-first birthday for the world.’
He was the only person who ever called her Phoebe, and she hated it. She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but never got the chance. Two large hands settled on her naked shoulders and a firm male mouth descended on her parted lips.
Whatever she had been about to say vanished from her mind at the first touch of his mouth on hers. She closed her eyes.
Bea knew she should resist, and lifted her free hand to press against the hard wall of his chest, but for some reason her fingers spread out instead, over the soft silk of his shirt.
It was Leon who broke the kiss, murmuring against her mouth, ‘Happy birthday, darling.’ Then, lifting his head and staring down into her flushed, beautiful face, he winked...
‘The chemistry is still fizzing, Phoebe, which is more than can be said for the glass of champagne you’re clutching with such tenacity.’ And, taking the glass from her unresisting hand, he placed it on the windowsill. ‘I’ll get you another. Come on.’ Capturing her hand, he added, ‘Let’s get out of here and into the study, where we can talk.’
Bea shook her head to clear her brain. He was doing it again, exactly as he had years ago. Mesmerising her, poor fool, with a kiss, and then ordering her about. That was Leon’s modus operandi and she would do well to remember it.
‘No, thank you, I’ve had quite enough to drink.’ She snatched her hand free. ‘And as for talking we can discuss all we need to at our meeting on Monday.’ She was proud of her ability to speak firmly to Leon for once, and, bravely meeting his narrowed gaze, she added for good measure, ‘But if you would like a drink please help yourself. The bar is in the dining room. You know the way.’ Half turning, she would have walked past him, but Leon’s hand closed around her upper arm, halting her in her stride.
‘Not so fast, Phoebe.’
She fought down the tingling sensation the large hand curved around her flesh aroused, and looked up into his face. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, I have guests. I must mingle.’
Black eyes raked her from head to toe in a blatant sexual appraisal, lingering for a moment on the shadowy cleavage cupped in silver Spandex before returning to her face. ‘Mingling with you was actually what I had in mind. How about it, Phoebe?’ Leon asked with deliberate provocation, his long fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. ‘Interested?’
Bea looked at the man towering over her and recognised the sensual amusement glittering in his eyes. Leon hadn’t changed in three years. He was still as devastatingly attractive as ever, and he knew it. It was there in his arrogant stance, an animal magnetism he exuded without even trying. Add wealth, power and sophistication, and he was a lethal cocktail to any member of the female species.
Tonight he was wearing a conservative business suit, dark navy, with a plain white silk shirt and a muted blue and red striped tie. His jacket was open and pleated trousers hung comfortably on his lean hips. For a second she wondered why he was dressed that way at almost midnight on a Saturday night, at a party he had not been invited to. But she refrained from asking. She simply wanted him out of her house.
‘Will I do?’ Leon asked, arching one dark eyebrow enquiringly, fully aware that she had been studying him. Bea could feel hot colour flood her cheeks, and was not sure if it was from anger or embarrassment.
‘Does your silence mean you’re considering my offer, Phoebe, darling?’ he teased huskily.
His deep voice was awfully close to her ear, and, jerking her arm free from his hold, she shot back scathingly, ‘Still the incorrigible flirt, Leon. I pity your poor wife and...family.’ For some reason she could not bring herself to say ‘child’. ‘How they tolerate your many escapades I can’t imagine,’ she added, trying for a flippant note, horrified to realise that his touch, his closeness, still had the power to make her go weak at the knees. But there was no way she was going to let him see it. Never again...
He straightened to his full height and stepped back. ‘My family, if you can call it a family, is fine. My stepmother and stepsister live in California, and I rarely see them unless they want something.’ He stared down at her with eyes as black as jet, all trace of amusement gone. ‘As for a wife, you should know the answer to that better than most,’ he opined cynically.
‘Sorry, I haven’t kept up with your private affairs,’ she said, drawling out the last word deliberately.
Bea’s blue eyes, filled with contempt, flicked up over the hard planes of his face, his smooth, tanned skin, the faint shadow of his square jaw; she saw the sheer animal strength of him, and more. He was furiously angry, but hiding it well. Deciding discretion was called for, unless she wanted a fight in a room full of people, Bea added with a calm she was far from feeling, ‘It takes me all my time to keep up to date on our business partnership. Your personal life is your own. Forget I mentioned it.’
‘Forget?’ Leon smiled, a cynical twist of his hard lips. ‘How could I forget, when the nearest I ever got to falling into the matrimonial trap was the abortive engagement you and I shared for a few idyllic months, my sweet Phoebe?’
Idyllic! My eye, she thought bitterly, and, looking anywhere but at Leon, she realised a good percentage of her guests were watching them with avid curiosity. Damn the man! ‘I don’t know what you want to discuss that can’t wait until Monday, but you were right; the study would be better.’
‘There now, Phoebe.’ A large arm fell across her shoulders and urged her through the press of bodies towards the door. ‘I knew you would see it my way in the end.’
Once in the relative peace of the elegant oak-panelled hall, Bea shrugged off Leon’s guiding arm. ‘I do know where the study is. This is my home.’ She mocked him, walking towards the large door to the rear of the sweeping staircase with Leon a step behind her.
‘True, but the bird is about to fly the nest at last.’ He sighed, with a hint of irritation in his deep voice. ‘Which is why we need to talk about your entrance into the wider world of London, and work.’
Bea glanced up at his handsome face; he looked older. A few lines crinkled at the corners of his black eyes, and more bracketed his sensuous mouth. And was that grey she spied in the thick black hair swept back behind his ear? Yet he could still have wowed the whole of the feminine population. Inexplicably she felt a sudden tenderness sweep through her for the man—after all, he had been a good friend once. Maybe they could be friends again.
Leon’s long arm reached over her head and pushed open the panelled study door. He stood aside for her to enter. Bea walked in and breathed deeply. She loved this room, and even after all this time she still imagined the spirit of her father lingered in the air. It was a library-cum-study—a room where the man of the house could relax.
‘I always loved this room,’ Leon remarked, glancing about him appreciatively, and then, closing and locking the heavy door behind him, he gestured towards the sofa. ‘Sit down.’
Bea seated herself stiffly on the edge of the sofa and tried not to look as nervous as she felt. ‘So what is it that’s so vital it can’t wait until Monday?’ she said in a rush. Suddenly being alone in a locked room with Leon seemed vaguely threatening. Bea watched as he strolled past her to lean one arm on the mantelpiece, tall, elegant and completely at ease, while her own nerves were stretched to breaking point.
‘You are extraordinarily like your mother,’ he remarked, ignoring her question, his glance flicking to fix intently upon her. His dark eyes slid over her with the sensual thoroughness of a professional womaniser. ‘You have grown into an incredibly attractive woman, but then I always knew you would.’
‘Really, Leon, if you’ve brought me in here to practise your chat-up lines, forget it... I’m immune to your brand of charm,’ she lied, with a hint of mockery in her voice. ‘Been there, done that, worn the tee-shirt.’
‘Not strictly true, darling. I never actually did it with you,’ he shot back, his sensuous mouth curved in a mocking smile. ‘But who knows? I might oblige you some time, if you ask me nicely.’
Bea’s colour deepened at the sexist comment, but she said nothing. Leon was the most extraordinary man she had ever known. He made no secret of what he wanted from a woman and yet he had them queuing up to share his bed. But she was determined not to be added to his long list of conquests. She’d had a lucky escape three years ago, and she needed to keep reminding herself of the fact.
‘I’ll take your silence as a compliment and live in hope,’ Leon chuckled, and, after straightening up, in two lithe strides he was beside her. ‘You’re right, of course. I really do not have time for flirtation at the minute.’ Dropping onto a sofa, he half turned to face her, suddenly all business. ‘The company jet is waiting for me at Newcastle airport. I have to be in New York tomorrow, hence the detour to see you.’
Bea stared at him. ‘You’re incredible.’ She shook her head in amazement.
‘I know, Phoebe,’ he drawled, with an element of seduction in his deep voice. He couldn’t help himself, Bea thought wryly, fighting to suppress a grin.
‘But enough about me. It is you we have to concentrate on. I will not be in the London office for at least the next two weeks, which presents me with something of a dilemma. I did want to be there for your first day with the company, but it is simply not possible. However, I have talked to Tom Jordan and everything is organised for your arrival. But first...’ Slipping his hand into his inside jacket pocket, he withdrew a document and a pen. ‘The reason for my whistlestop visit. Your official entry into the adult world.’ Placing the parchment paper on her knee, he indicated where she was to sign. ‘As of midnight tonight my trusteeship ends and you are the outright owner of thirty per cent of the company. Free and clear.’
‘Oh! I see.’ Taking the pen, she scribbled her signature where he indicated. So he had not called simply because it was her birthday, and now the conservative suit made sense. For a brief moment Bea felt a swift stab of something very like disappointment. She quickly dismissed the notion. Good heavens! It was a relief, surely, that she would not have to be around Leon. Hadn’t she been dreading the thought of meeting him only half an hour ago? But as he continued speaking her relief was overtaken by a rising anger.
‘I have arranged with Tom Jordan, the manager of the London office, for you to start work as an assistant to his PA, Margot. You’ll like her, she’s a great woman, and she knows almost as much as Tom about the workings of the office. Another plus—she also has an apartment in the same building where your father used to live when he was in town. I take it you will be using your father’s apartment? So you will not be alone at all. You’ll have a friend—’
‘Wait just a minute,’ Bea interrupted angrily. At another time she might have found the startled expression in his dark eyes amusing, but right now she was too furious. ‘As of now I own a large slice of Stephen-Gregoris.’ Shoving the document back at him to emphasise her point, she continued, ‘And as such I have no intention of starting work as an assistant to somebody else’s personal assistant. I have not spent the last three years of my life studying to end up as some office junior. I am no longer the little girl you knew. I am an intelligent woman who intends to take an active part in my late father’s company. Junior partner, yes... Anything else, I don’t want to know.’
Her blue eyes, glittering with anger, flicked over his impassive countenance, and then wildly around the room. ‘Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Leon Gregoris,’ she quipped, probably because her glance had caught her father’s pipestand, she realised. And instantly she wished she could take the childish words back. But she could not believe the cheek of the man... No discussion, no asking her opinion—typical Leon. Do this! Live there! Have this friend!
‘So the kitten has developed claws,’ Leon said softly, and, slipping the document into his pocket, he turned more fully to face her. But his eyes narrowed to slits of anger when he saw her furious blue gaze resting on him. ‘Damn it, Phoebe, don’t be so stupid. There is no way a girl of twenty-one, however brilliant, can walk into a company as a partner. I run the business, and I have made you a wealthy woman in the process. Content yourself with that. In fact you don’t need to work at all. But, if you must, it has got to be the way I say.’
‘No way,’ she spat back.
His hands snaked out and tightened around her slender wrists, and she felt the pressure of his fingers biting into her flesh. Her pulse raced, but with anger, not passion, she told herself. She looked into his hard face and recognised the resolute expression there, but she refused to be intimidated by it.
‘My way. Understand?’ he said tersely.
‘Oh, yes, I understand very well, Leon. Keep little Phoebe in her place or she’s out of the business altogether. So you can remain the absolute dictator, the tyrant you have always been. My God! You were even prepared to marry me once, simply to keep your all-powerful position, until I wised up to what you were after.’ As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she had gone too far.
His black eyes widened in astonishment, and then narrowed in anger as the import of what she had said registered in his astute brain. ‘You little bitch!’ he exclaimed. ‘At last the truth is coming out. You broke our engagement not because I was too old—your desertion had nothing to do with my age,’ Leon snarled, and, jerking at her hands, he dragged her across his lap. ‘You actually thought I was trying to control your share of the company. You simply did not trust me.’
He’d got that right! Bea thought, and almost laughed at the incredulous expression in his dark eyes. But her own position was far from safe, so she bit down any response.
‘My God, I should give you the good hiding you deserve. But, as you were at pains to point out, you’re a woman now.’ Twisting her around, he pushed her flat on her back on the sofa. ‘A more adult punishment is called for.’
Confusion replaced her earlier anger and she could hear the thunder of her own heartbeat. She saw his expression as he bent over her. ‘No!’ she cried, and then his face became a twisted blur as his hand tangled in her long hair and his hard mouth fastened on hers in a long, grinding kiss.
Bea fought against him with all the strength she possessed. Her small hands pushed at his mighty shoulders, and when that had no effect she dug her fingers into the nape of his neck. He retaliated by rearing back. With his free hand he grasped the front of her dress, and in a second it was down around her waist and his band was clasping one firm breast.
She gasped, and, taking full advantage of her parted lips, his mouth covered hers again, his tongue plunging into its sweet, dark cavern. His full weight came down on top of her and long fingers nipped the perfect bud of her breast, teasing it into hard, pulsing life. Electric sensations shuddered through her even as she bucked beneath him, trying to throw him off. But she was no match for his superior size and strength, and, worse, when his kisses changed to a tempting fiery passion, she was helpless to resist.
His mouth never left hers but his hands were everywhere, stroking, teasing, tormenting. His muscled leg moved over her thigh and she felt the full pressure of his masculine arousal hard against her flesh... Her flesh!
Her passion-dulled mind came alive to what was happening. The lamé dress was now little more than a belt around her waist, and alarm returned to give her the motivation to fight. She lifted her hand and deliberately raked her long nails down the side of his face.
‘What the hell—?’ As he reared back she took her chance and slid from under him onto the floor. She didn’t care what she looked like, and, struggling to her knees, she hauled up the front of her dress, then stood up and tugged down the skirt.
She backed away from where he sat rubbing his hand against his cheek. Her breasts heaving and her face flushed, she watched him warily. He looked down in amazement at the blood on his hand, and then back up to fix Bea with glittering black eyes.
‘You little vixen. You drew blood!’
‘Serves you right—you attacked me.’ She had no idea how aroused or how young she looked to the seated man, or how beautiful. She was still reeling from the totally unexpected explosion of passion between them, and her own shameful reaction to Leon.
For a long moment they simply stared at each other, the sexual tension in the air almost tangible.
Leon finally broke the contact. He looked down at the floor and said quietly, ‘Yes, I did, and I apologise.’
Bea’s bewildered blue eyes searched his handsome face; Leon apologising was unheard of. ‘You apologise?’ she queried, as if she didn’t believe what she was hearing.
‘Yes, a hundred times over.’ He glanced at her with a look in his eyes that she could not fathom. ‘I am a lot older than you and I should have more control. But in all the years we have known each other it never once entered my head that you did not trust me.’
Bea, for some unknown reason, found it hard to look him in the eye. Yet he had made no attempt to deny her accusation. So why did she feel ashamed? It was Leon who should be ashamed, for having tried to trick a grieving teenager. But she doubted he knew the meaning of the word ‘ashamed’. Leon moved through life supremely confident of his own abilities, a ruthless predator, cutthroat in business, overpowering the opposition with arrogant ease. And, Bea realised, he was just as ruthless in his private life.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, dismissing the question of trust, and ran his hands through his dishevelled hair, sweeping it back from his brow. ‘Also, Phoebe, I should have explained in more detail your position in the company.’ He glanced at the slim gold Rolex on his wrist and grimaced.
‘I was in too much of a hurry. But please try and understand, you will not be working as the office junior. Tom and Margot have strict instructions to show you every aspect of the London office and how the company works. You will get to know all the staff we employ there personally. Your job description as a PAA is modest enough, so they will not resent you. But if you insist on walking in and declaring you’re a part owner, and also insist on starting as a junior partner, there is bound to be resentment. Do you want that? The snide remarks about nepotism at work? Perhaps even publicity in the press?’
Bea had not thought about it from that angle, but she realised Leon had a valid point. ‘No, no, I don’t,’ she said quietly.
‘I didn’t think you would. That is why I made the arrangements I did. Only Tom and Margot know your true status in the company, but it is up to you if you want to tell everyone else. Personally, I only wanted to give you some protection, at least for your first few months in a working environment. I had hoped to be able to stay in England for a few weeks, but it simply is not possible.
‘Branching out into the USA and the Far East in the past few years has been a great success, but I seem to spend most of my time jetting between New York, Hong Kong and Athens—as you must know by the company reports you receive.’ He glanced at her, black eyes capturing blue. ‘You do read them?’ he asked with a smile, and her heart gave a curious lurch in her chest at the sight of it.
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiled back and took a step towards him. Leon was right. Since taking over the company he had expanded its business enormously. It had been successfully floated on the London Stock Exchange, but their two families still retained sixty per cent of the shares, thus ensuring that it remained a family concern. Leon’s name was regularly featured in the financial newspapers all over the world, and the meteoric rise of Stephen-Gregoris as a leading international company was constantly remarked upon. As for the tabloid newspapers, they had nicknamed him the “Swashbuckling Tycoon”—probably because when he’d first come to their notice, in his mid-twenties, he’d worn his hair in a ponytail.
‘You’re right,’ she admitted. ‘It was stupid of me to think I could walk into the firm as a partner. I realise that now. But I do want to learn everything, and perhaps eventually I can visit the overseas offices too, maybe even work in one.’ The more she thought about it. the more she liked the idea. ‘Maybe this time next year it will be me going to New York.’
‘Why not?’ Leon stood up and, crossing to where she stood, once more took her hands in his. ‘Next week London, next year the world.’
Bea tilted her head back to look up into his face, her expression serious. ‘Are you teasing, or do you really think I can do it?’ she asked, in a voice that was surprisingly calm considering the way the pulses in her wrists were racing beneath his fingers.
He released her hands and dropped a swift kiss on the top of her head. ‘I think, Phoebe, you will do whatever you set your mind to, and the world had better look out.’
‘You as well.’ She grinned up at him, mischief dancing in her eyes. ‘I might decide I want your job.’
Leon’s mouth twitched, and then he chuckled. ‘You’re some woman, Phoebe.’ He shook his dark head, still smiling. ‘But I really must be going.’ Withdrawing a small velvet box from his trouser pocket, he dropped it into her hand. ‘Happy birthday, and good luck on Monday. I’ll be in touch.’ Turning, he started for the door.
‘Wait. I’ll see you out.’ She hurried after him, but he stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
‘Not a good idea, Phoebe, unless you want your friends to get the wrong idea.’
‘My friends?’ He had lost her; she didn’t know what he meant.
‘Have a look in the mirror before mingling again, darling...’ Leon drawled softly, and after unlocking the door he went, his laughter ringing in her ears.
Standing where Leon had left her, Bea slowly opened the box. Inside was a delicate pendant, a deep blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds, ringed in gold and suspended on a gold chain. After fastening the chain around her neck, she picked up the pendant and gazed at it in wonder. Leon was an incredibly generous but infuriating man.
CHAPTER TWO
STILL bemused by Leon’s present, Bea wondered why he had not stopped to see her open it. What had he said? ‘Look in the mirror!’ Bea mumbled to herself, quietly slipping out of the study. She quickly dived into the cloakroom—luckily free.
One look in the mirror above the vanity basin, and the pendant was forgotten. Instead she wanted to die of shame. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess around her face—a very flushed face—and the remains of once red lipgloss were smeared over her skin, but none of it on her lips—lips that were unmistakably swollen. Worse, the dress she had hastily pulled up after escaping from Leon on the sofa clung decorously over one breast, then slanted down over the other, revealing the dark areola around her nipple to the world.
Bea groaned out loud. Never again would she wear the silver Spandex creation, she vowed. No wonder Leon had told her to look in the mirror. But the swine could have told her earlier about the dress, instead of feasting his eyes and having a good laugh at her expense. To think she had actually been considering they could be friends again!
Splashing her face with cold water, and tidying herself up as best she could, she felt a humourless laugh escape her. Would she never learn where Leon was concerned? He had arrived, got her to agree to what he wanted, and left... As for her birthday present, to a man of Leon’s wealth, the pendant was a mere trinket.
She knew she was being irrational. She was a very wealthy woman herself. But somehow she never thought of herself as such. Her parents, because they’d been from the north, had always lived there, though her father often stayed in London. As a child Bea had known they were comfortably off, but never thought much about it. And since Leon had taken over the running of the company, and then since the death of her father, she hadn’t liked to think how much she was worth. It seemed indecent when she had done nothing for it. Which was another reason for her going to work in London. She felt it her duty...
Two o’clock in the morning, and she leant against the front doorframe, grateful for the breath of cool air and the support. She was dead beat. With a sigh of relief she closed the door, locked and bolted it. At last she was alone...
The caterers had cleaned up and left ten minutes earlier. Aunty Lil and Uncle Bob would have nothing to complain about when they arrived back in the morning from their night out in the city. She hoped they’d had a better time than she’d had...
Some party, she thought moodily, making her way up to the sanctuary of her bedroom, removing the sapphire pendant as she went. What should have been a great night in her life had turned out to be a horror, all because of Leon Gregoris. She supposed she should be thankful he had left early, and she was no longer going to have to face him in London on Monday. But somehow that thought gave her no consolation.
Walking into her bedroom and closing the door behind her, she slipped out of the silver dress and, clad in only the briefest of lace briefs, dropped the pendant on the dressing table. For a moment she looked at it, her eyes narrowing; it looked vaguely familiar. Yawning widely, she dismissed the thought and, picking up her cotton nightie from the end of the bed, headed for the en suite bathroom. Five minutes later, her toilet complete, she slid into bed. Pulling the pink duvet up to her chin, she closed her eyes and welcomed sleep.
But it was not to be. The dark face of Leon appeared in her mind’s eye; she traced her swollen lips with one finger. She could still feel his kiss, the taste of him. Nothing she did would displace his image from her brain.
Turning restlessly, she lay flat on her back and opened her eyes. She didn’t want to think about the past; there were too many painful memories, and Leon’s reappearance tonight had reawakened a lot of them. The trace of a smile twitched her lips. She recalled the first time her father had sent her to this very room for being naughty. That had been Leon’s fault...
It had been a Saturday, just like today—or last night, she amended. Bea had been eight years of age, and her father had had visitors for the weekend: Mr Gregoris and his son. Having spent all day with adults, she’d been bored.
But at about seven o’clock in the evening she had slipped out of the gate at the bottom of the garden, something she was strictly forbidden to do. She had met two older boys from the village, Jack and Ned, and they had allowed her to play with them. Cowboys and Indians, and—wouldn’t you know!—as the girl she’d got to be the Indian, captured by the cowboys, and Jack had tied her to a tree.
It had been when Ned had withdrawn a knife from his trouser pocket, saying, ‘Now try some of your own medicine and see how you like it,’ and grabbed her long hair prior to scalping her, that she’d begun to scream. That was how Leon had found her.
At twenty-two he’d already been a man, dressed in shorts and singlet, obviously out for his evening run. He’d pulled the two boys apart, one in each hand, shaken them and sent them sprawling on their backsides. Then he’d untied Bea and lifted the terrified little girl into his arms.
She remembered clutching him around the neck, resting her head on his chest and between sobs and hiccups telling him he was wonderful for saving her. He’d been her hero, this big, dark man with a ponytail as long as hers. At least, she’d thought so for all of ten minutes, until he’d started lecturing her on how little girls should behave. But, worse, he’d actually told her father, and she’d been sent to her room without any supper.
Looking back, Bea could see that had been the start of the love-hate relationship she shared with Leon. She had not seen a lot of him after that; his father, her dad’s business partner, had been a frequent visitor, but Leon had come maybe two or three times a year, some years not even as much as that. When she had seen him he was always nice to her, though he could be a bit bossy. But then she’d thought of him as an adult friend, and most adults were bossy...
Old Mr Gregoris had died when Bea was eleven. She could remember her father going to Cyprus for the funeral, but she hadn’t gone. After that Leon had come on his own to visit her father, but as often as not they’d met in London.
Then, when she’d reached her teens and begun to read the more lurid tabloids that Aunty Lil was so fond of, she’d discovered Leon was quite notorious for his lady-friends. His procession of women was well documented, and once, as a fifteen-year-old, she had teased him about it. Leon had told her not to believe everything she read in the papers. He had for once lost his sense of humour and had appeared quite upset.
Bea suddenly realised that this had been the last time Leon had visited her home until the death of her own father. Leon had appeared at his graveside on a bleak January day and held her hand. He had been a tower of strength to a very sad and frightened seventeen-year-old. Having lost his own father earlier, he’d seemed to understand exactly how she felt.
Back at the house Leon had taken charge, explaining her inheritance, insisting she complete her final year at school, and making sure Lil and Bob would look after her—though there had never been any doubt. Leon had left after a week, due to pressure of business, but had promised to return at the Easter vacation. True to his word, he had. But it had been a different Leon...
Before Bea had seen him as a sort of jocular uncle—a friend but an adult male. Then suddenly he’d begun to treat her as a grown-up. When he had arrived she had greeted him with the usual peck on the cheek, and to her amazement he had grasped her around the waist.
‘Surely at nearly eighteen you can do better than that, Phoebe? I can see I’m going to have to educate you,’ he’d said, and covered her lips with his own.
From then on when he’d looked at her it had been with a blatant male appreciation for a desirable female. When he’d touched her his hands had lingered just a fraction too long, and when he’d kissed her her legs had turned to jelly.
Bea shivered and pulled the duvet tightly around her. She had been such a naive young fool, and had lapped it all up.
But Leon had played his part to perfection. He was a man whose devastating charm and sophistication could make the hardest-headed businesswoman feel gauche, and he had turned the full force of his dynamic personality upon the young Bea. She’d been in awe of him.
The public success of the company since Leon had taken over was well documented. From a small import-export firm, Stephen-Gregoris had now developed into a force to be reckoned with in the world market. Leon had made them both millionaires, as he had casually pointed out on the last day of his visit...
It was a lovely spring day. A car was arriving at noon to take Leon to the airport; he would fly back to London and then on to Athens. Seated opposite him at the table in the breakfast room, Bea was feeling sad at the thought of Leon’s departure; the past five days had been wonderful.
Last night he had taken her out to dinner at Twenty-One, an exclusive restaurant in Newcastle. On arriving home he had led her into the living room and pulled her down onto the couch beside him. She had snuggled up against his side with a sigh of pure contentment.
‘Happy, sweetheart?’ Leon had asked, and, not waiting for a reply, had turned her in his arms and kissed her. A long time later he’d raised his head and shifted slightly to look into her flushed, trusting face.
‘There’s something I want to ask you, Phoebe. I know...’ And that had been when Lil had walked in.
‘I heard you arrive so I’ve brought you coffee.’
Bea had not been pleased at the interruption. She’d had a sneaky suspicion that Lil was acting as a chaperone, and she’d been sure of it when the older woman had sat down and poured the coffee into three cups before asking about their evening out. An hour later Bea had gone to bed, still wondering...
Now, seated with Leon at the breakfast table, Bea sighed and drained her cup of coffee, her blue eyes resting wistfully on the top of his dark head. He was apparently oblivious to her presence, reading the morning paper. Whatever he had been going to ask her last night, he had obviously forgotten it this morning, she thought morosely. In a few hours he would be gone and it was back to studying for her, for her A level exams. A place at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne was waiting for her, providing she passed them.
‘Don’t look so sad. It might never happen.’ Leon’s deep voice cut into her morbid thoughts.
Glancing across at him, she almost said, It already has; you’re leaving. But, young as she was, she had the sense to keep her true feelings to herself, and instead said, ‘But it will... Exams start in six weeks’ time; it’s nose to the grindstone time for me. Whereas you will be flitting around the world, chatting up every beautiful woman you meet.’ She tried for a teasing smile but it did not quite come off.
Her innate common sense told her Leon had simply been flirting with her the past few days. There was no way a man like him could really be interested in her on a personal level. He was kind to her because of their fathers’ relationship, and because technically they were now business partners—though the reality was that Leon was her trustee, along with Mr Nicholson, her late father’s lawyer, until she was twenty-one.
‘Jealous, Phoebe?’ he teased back, and, putting the newspaper down on the table, he stood up. ‘There is no need.’
He was tall, well over six feet, and incredibly handsome; he had to be nearly thirty-two now. Far too old for her. But he looked so vitally male, so elegant in his immaculate, conservative three-piece suit, and yet subtly powerful and superbly healthy—which, given his lifestyle, was something of a miracle. If the papers were to be believed, he played as hard as he worked. Fascinated, Bea watched as he strolled around the table and reached out a hand to her.
‘Come on, sweet Phoebe, a walk before I leave. And hopefully we will escape your guardian angel Lil for a while.’
Bea put her hand in his and was pulled to her feet. Five minutes later Leon, still holding her hand, opened the garden gate with his other hand, and then guided her onto the path.
They talked of her exams, her university course, her ambitions. It was only when they were out of sight of the house that Leon suddenly stopped a few feet away from a large willow tree.
‘The infamous tree where you were held captive,’ he declared, and grinned down at her.
Bea tilted her head back. She laughed up at him. ‘Yes, and I haven’t forgotten I got no supper. Because of you, I was confined to my room.’
His dark eyes narrowed for a moment on her young, girlish figure. She was wearing figure-hugging blue jeans and a blue sweatshirt. Her high, firm breasts, clearly defined against the soft fabric, made it obvious she wore no bra. Leon dropped her hand and curved an arm around her waist, pulling her against his lower torso. ‘I wish I could confine you to my room.’
She looked at him, thrilled by his statement, but all her youthful uncertainty was reflected in her wide blue eyes. ‘Why?’ she asked.
‘For heaven’s sake! Don’t look at me like that. You make me feel like... Never mind...’ Leon hesitated, then walked on until they were at the tree. Leaning his back against the trunk, legs splayed, he turned her loosely in the circle of his arms, so she was standing between his hard-muscled thighs.
The light touch of his hands on her waist and the subtle male scent of him both conspired to make her heart leap in her chest. She wanted to move forward, just a fraction, enough to make contact with his hard body, to have that proud head bend and his firm mouth on hers. She didn’t know herself. Bea had never felt like this with any man before. Only Leon had the power to turn her into a quivering heap of over-active nerves, passions, feelings...whatever! She only knew his virile masculine aura was such that it promised everything a female could desire, with the certainty that he could deliver...
‘Did you ever see either of those two little monsters again?’
‘What?’ She jumped as his question cut into her overheated thoughts. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I did.’
Leon sent her a mocking glance. ‘Not here, I hope. Surely you weren’t stupid enough to be caught twice?’
If Leon had one fault, Bea thought mutinously, it was arrogance. He was so clever, of such towering intellect, he tended to think other people were dumb.
‘No, actually. Jack, the older of the two—not the one who was about to scalp me—’ she clarified, ‘is a good friend. He’s in his second year at Oxford, and doing well, already a rugby blue. We went to a couple of parties together when he was home for the Christmas break; we have the same friends. I got a card from him last week. He’s spending the Easter break in Switzerland. He’s also a keen skier—in fact an all-round sportsman.’ As she spoke what she had wished for earlier happened.
Leon slipped one arm completely around her waist and hauled her hard against him. With his free hand he clasped her chin and tilted her face up to his.
‘Is he now?’ His lips were quirking as he cast her a curious glance. ‘Well, I hope he breaks a leg.’
‘Leon! That’s rotten.’
‘No, realistic,’ he returned with a laugh. ‘If anyone is going to tie you up ever again, it’s going to be me.’ And, swinging around, it was suddenly Bea who had her back against the tree.
‘You wouldn’t, and anyway you have no rope,’ she shot back.
‘Who needs one?’ Leon murmured, and, fastening her to the tree with the pressure of his large body, his dark head bent and his lips brushed softly over hers. ‘Will you let me tie you to me, Phoebe?’ he asked huskily, his teeth nibbling her bottom lip while his hand clasped the nape of her neck and held her head firm. He scattered kisses over her brow, her eyes, her cheekbones, and back down to her softly parted lips.
She was helpless against his gentle persuasion as he trailed kisses down her throat, and then his hand cupped her breast through the thickness of her sweater, his thumb unerringly finding its rigid tip and squeezing ever so slowly. ‘Will you be tied to me, metaphorically speaking, my own sweet Phoebe? Will you be my wife?’
Of course she said yes. She said yes to everything he suggested. Their engagement would be a secret until she had finished school, and on her eighteenth birthday, in August, he would take her to the family villa in Cyprus and declare it to the world. They would marry a few weeks later and, if she liked, she could still go to university.
Bea sailed through her last term at school. Her grief at losing her father at the beginning of the year still lingered, but her love for Leon and knowing he loved her somehow made everything better. She even applied herself to her exams with a new-found vigour.
Leon telephoned every other night, wherever in the world he happened to be, and with his support and encouragement she blossomed into a confident young woman. She did have one slight argument with him in June: school was to finish in July and she wanted to join him immediately afterwards, but Leon said no. But the ‘no’ was tempered the next day by the arrival of a huge bouquet of red roses, and the following day came a loving letter from America, explaining the difficulties of his schedule but promising to be in England the week before her birthday—mid-August.
One morning in August Bea stood in the hall, an envelope addressed to herself in her own handwriting in her hand. ‘Lil, they’re here!’ she yelled. Her exam results.
‘Well, open it, dear,’ Lil commanded, joining her. ‘They won’t alter for the waiting, pet.’
With trembling fingers she slit open the envelope, took one glance and then she was whirling Lil around the hall in a wild polka. ‘I’ve passed! I’ve passed! Four straight As.’
To make her happiness complete, after spending two hours on the telephone calling all her friends, Leon arrived. She was still on the telephone when a deep voice murmured in her free ear, ‘Miss me, Phoebe?’
Bea squeaked, ‘Got to go,’ and dropped the receiver on the hall table. A strong arm encircled her waist and turned her around. ‘Leon, you’re back,’ she murmured inanely, suddenly inexplicably nervous.
Leon’s hand cupped her chin and tilted her head back as his dark eyes scrutinised her lovely face. ‘Is that the best you can do in the way of a welcome, Phoebe, darling?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘Months apart and you say “you’re back”?’
‘One hundred and thirty-two days, actually.’ Bea glanced at her watch, ‘And twenty-two hours.’ Wrapping her slender arms around his neck, with a wide, beautiful smile curving her full lips, she added, ‘I have missed you during every one of them.’
A long, satisfying kiss later, Bea gazed dazedly into Leon’s dark eyes. ‘I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.’
‘Change of plan—I have to be in Athens tomorrow.’ Leon spent the next ten minutes explaining why, but Bea barely took it in. She was too entranced to have him beside her, to hear his voice, to be able to feast her eyes on his large, all-male body.
Her happy, dazed state lasted until the aeroplane touched down at Athens airport, and beyond...
Sighing, Bea let the paperback book, number one on the New York Times bestseller list, fall to the ground beside the sun lounger on which she was reclining. She didn’t seem able to get interested in anything today.
Leon’s villa was set high on the hills above Paphos, in the Greek sector of the island of Cyprus. The view before her was magnificent: an enticingly cool-looking swimming pool and beyond it the garden, flowing down the hillside in a mass of flowers and shrubs, the whole enclosed by an undulating white wall. Beyond, in the far distance, the ancient port of Paphos and its magnificent fortress stood by the Mediterranean Sea.
Her only garment was a minuscule bikini, and yet the heat was still stifling. Glancing at her half-naked body, she hauled herself into a sitting position and idly picked up a bottle of sun lotion and began massaging it into her arms and legs, across her flat stomach. The trouble was, she thought wryly, it wasn’t so much the heat outside that was making her so restless, but the heat within her.
Last night had been wonderful. Leon had held a huge party and they had become officially engaged. A tiny smile pursed her lips as she twisted the magnificent diamond and sapphire ring on the third finger of her left hand. Every time she looked at it she got a lump in her throat, not just for its beauty, but for what it represented.
Her engagement party had been perfect; she had danced the night away in the arms of the man she loved, the man she was going to marry, and she had met all of Leon’s friends and his stepmother, Tany, who seemed a very nice lady. But Tany’s daughter by her first marriage, Amy, Bea was not so sure about, and Amy’s friend from America, Selina, Bea had certainly not taken to. The woman had given her the most peculiar look, and a positively evil smile. Still, all in all it had been a great party.
Bea sighed again, and lay back down. She only had one slight niggle—and she knew she was being stupid—but... After the guests had left, and the house guests had retired for the night, finally she and Leon had been alone. He had walked her to her bedroom door and taken her into his arms.
Her eyes fluttered closed—just for a moment—as she relived the sensations his kiss had aroused. Her lips had quivered beneath the light touch of his mouth, then he had lazily nibbled her bottom lip, his tongue exploring when her mouth opened to him. Her hands, of their own accord, had moved up his arms to cling to his broad shoulders, glorying in the strength of his taut muscles and the power of his broad frame. He’d deepened the kiss with an ease and sensuality that had made her whole body burn with a trembling need that reached the very core of her being.
She’d murmured his name: ‘Leon.’ At last they were engaged, and the bed was just behind the door. Her firm young body had arched into him, the power of his arousal against her pelvis making her ache with frustration.
‘No, Phoebe,’ he’d murmured against her lips. ‘Ten days is not too long to wait.’ He’d eased her away from him. ‘I want you to have a perfect wedding, and a perfect wedding night. You deserve it. And that means keeping my desire under control until then.’
Sighing for the third time, Bea rolled over onto her stomach on the lounger. It had been a noble sentiment on Leon’s part, but had done nothing for the frustration burning inside her... With her head resting on her folded arms, she dozed off...
She raised her head groggily and turned onto her back, not sure what had awakened her. The lounger, placed as it was near the house, was now in the shade. ‘Thank goodness for that,’ she muttered to herself, realising she could have been burned to a crisp. Then she heard it again. Her name being called from inside the villa.
Good, Leon was back. He had gone into Paphos to see someone on business earlier. She was just about to stand up and make her whereabouts known when another voice floated from the open window not three yards away.
‘Looking for your proposed child bride, Leon, darling?’ It was Selina, the American girl, who spoke. ‘I don’t think you’ll be in such a hurry to find her after you hear what I have to say.’
‘Selina, there is nothing you have to say that I want to hear.’
‘Leon, don’t be like this. This is me, Selina, you’re talking to. Your lover for the last three years. You can’t fool me.’ A shuffling sound followed.
Bea gasped and, raising her hand to her mouth, she bit hard on her knuckle to stifle her cry of pain.
‘Let go, Selina, you’re wasting your time. I told you it was over months ago. You career women are all the same. You say you are equal to a man in every way, and you willingly enter into an open relationship, quite clearly defined, mutual pleasure only. Then, as soon as you are told it is over, instead of acting like a man and walking away, you revert to sniffling feminine tricks.’
‘Please, Leon, you have to listen to me. I know you care for me—you can’t possibly love that schoolgirl. Even your stepmother said your engagement was more about cementing the business partnership firmly under your complete control than about any love on your part.’
‘My reasons are my own, Selina, and are not up for discussion. Now get out of my way and stay out of it.’
‘That might be hard to do. Especially in seven months’ time when our child is born.’
‘Impossible, and anyway I always use protection—mainly to prevent just this type of blackmail. Do yourself a favour and leave, before I have you thrown out.’
Bea could not believe her ears. This was a Leon she had never heard before: hard and totally ruthless. But worse was to follow.
‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Leon? Two months ago, at the Mackenzies’ house party in Newport? You flew in, partied half the night, and woke up in the morning in my bed. Protection was not something you bothered about. I know; I was there...’
For a long moment there was silence. Then, ‘You bitch, Selina. You did it deliberately. Didn’t you?’
Bea didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She had heard enough. Staggering to her feet, she silently crept around the outside of the house and entered by the kitchen. She took the servants’ stairs to her room and once inside locked the door. She collapsed on the bed, but could not cry. She was too traumatised for tears. Instead she stared blankly at the white walls, asking herself over and over again, How could I have been such a fool?
CHAPTER THREE
BEA had been used, exploited by the first man she had ever let near her. Before Leon she had dated a few boys of her own age, and exchanged the odd fumbled kiss, but nothing like the passionate interludes Leon had introduced her to. She should have realised a sophisticated, sexually mature man like Leon couldn’t possibly be interested in a naive young girl such as herself unless he had an ulterior motive. But she had blindly agreed with everything Leon had said. She’d even put up with him calling her Phoebe, when she much preferred Bea...
Nausea clawed at her stomach; the sense of betrayal ate into her very being. That she could be so wrong about a man she had known almost all her life, a man she would have trusted with her life, made her burn with shame at her own gullibility.
She thumped the bed with her clenched fists and shouted out loud, ‘Fool, fool, fool!’ Then the tears came. Bea cried until she had no tears left, and her throat was raw and dry. Finally she slowly sat up. She had no idea how long she had been in the bedroom, but it was already getting dark. Confirmation, if she needed any more, of how little Leon actually thought of her.
On his return to the villa, his eager calling of her name had roused her from sleep. But since his conversation with Selina he certainly hadn’t bothered trying to find Bea again.
She heaved herself off the bed and walked into the bathroom. One look in the mirror, and if she could have cried again she would have. Red-rimmed, swollen eyes stared out of a face as white as a ghost’s. She had no idea how she was going to face Leon ever again.
Stripping off her bikini, she stepped into the shower and turned on the cold water. She stood beneath the freezing spray, praying it would numb her body and brain, but it was no good. The image of Leon and Selina together tortured her mind. Three years... They had been lovers for three years, and they were having a baby together. She heard again Leon’s furious outburst: ‘You did it deliberately.’ And that was what hurt most of all.
Leon hadn’t tried to deny the child was his. He was simply furious at being caught by the oldest trick in the book. Bea stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around herself and walked back into the bedroom. She stopped by the dressing table, pulled the diamond ring off her finger and dropped it on the polished surface. Her engagement ring. What a joke! While she had considered herself engaged since Easter, when Leon had asked her to marry him and she had said yes, he had obviously felt no such commitment. He had continued sleeping with his long-time lover.
It was not so surprising, really, she thought as mechanically she set about getting dressed. She had always known Leon was the Lothario type, but in her youthful naivety she had let herself believe she was the one person who could change him. A hollow laugh escaped her. She remembered last night and their impassioned kisses, and then his denial of what she had quite obviously been offering, his high moral stance. He wanted her to have the perfect wedding, and wedding night. What a lie!
Sadly Bea realised he probably didn’t even want her in a sexual way. No, what he wanted was control of her share of the company. With that thought her sorrow began to change, and by the time she was standing in front of the mirror once more, about to put on her make-up, she wasn’t sad but mad... Mad with a cold fury. Then it came to her—a way to escape with her pride intact and without revealing what she knew.
In the end it was simple. Bea walked into the dining room, not a scrap of make-up on her pale face, her long hair tied up in a childish ponytail and wearing the simple blue and white candy-striped dress she had included in her luggage, thinking it would come in useful if she were messing around. She knew she looked ridiculously young, but that was the idea.
Tany, Leon’s stepmother, Amy and Selina were elegantly gowned and already seated at the table. But Leon was standing near the door and crossed straight to Bea’s side. He bent his head to kiss her. She saw it coming and deliberately moved so that his lips brushed her cheek and not her mouth.
‘Something the matter, Phoebe?’ he asked solicitously.
Bea almost snapped back, Yes, you, you snake! But, biting her tongue, she simply turned her face up to his, giving him the full benefit of her red, swollen eyes. ‘Not exactly.’
‘Please sit down, you two. We want to eat,’ Tany commanded.
Leon cast Bea a worried. glance, but held out a chair for her and then slid into the one next to her.
It was Tany who noticed first. ‘Bea, where is your ring, child? You don’t want to lose it. Knowing Leon, it will have cost a fortune. And what has happened to your eyes?’
Dramatically Bea pushed back her chair and jumped to her feet, acting for all she was worth. The last thing she felt like doing was sharing a dinner with this group.
‘Please, you will have to excuse me. I’m not hungry.’ Glancing down at Leon’s upturned face, surprise and puzzlement evident in his expression, she added, ‘I really am terribly sorry but it has all been a mistake. I realised this afternoon. It is beautiful here, but I—I am h-homesick.’ She deliberately stuttered. ‘I miss my friends and Lil, and the cool English summer, and I don’t want to get married, not yet.’
A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, lending credit to her story, but in actual fact it was a tear of self-pity, an emotion she despised. Brushing her cheek with the back of her hand, she saw Leon’s dark eyes narrow assessingly on her pale face. Then slowly he got to his feet, and tried to put an arm around her shoulders.
‘Don’t be silly, Phoebe. It’s probably just bridal nerves.’ He smiled. ‘I promise everything will be fine.’
Patronising swine, she thought, and, twisting out from under his arm, she turned to face him.
‘It will not be all right because I do not want to marry you. I want to go home and get on with my studies, my life. I’m sorry. I think it was because of my father dying so recently. I needed a father figure, and so I latched onto you. But that is no reason to get married.’
It took every ounce of nerve and self-control Bea possessed to hold Leon’s now angry gaze and deliver her final comment. ‘I realise now I’m not ready for marriage or commitment. I’m only just eighteen, far too young, and you...well, you’re...’ She trailed off, not so subtly implying that Leon was too old for her.
It had been the reference to age that had clinched it, Bea mused, safely ensconced on the aeroplane back to England the next day. In her mind’s eye she could still see the look of frustrated fury on his darkly handsome face as Selina and Amy had had the temerity to laugh.
True, he had made another attempt to change her mind much later. He had walked into her bedroom and tried, with his sexual expertise, to kiss her into submission. But knowing his lover Selina was downstairs had given Bea the strength to remain cold in his arms. How long she could have continued doing so was anybody’s guess. Because she’d still wanted him, even as she’d hated herself for feeling that way. But the arrival of Tany to check that Bea was all right had stopped Leon cold. And, in Tany’s presence, Bea had given him back his ring.
Yawning widely, Bea turned over and curled up into a foetal position. She yawned again. Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of her life. The past was past. Leon was no threat to her peace of mind any more, she told herself groggily. As for her reaction to his kiss earlier, it was simply because she had drunk too much champagne and he had caught her off guard. It would never happen again. Only a fool made the same mistake twice, and at twenty-one, with a degree in her pocket, Bea was nobody’s fool...
The drive down to London was not as bad as Bea had expected. The Sunday traffic was light, and she arrived at the underground car park of the mansion block that housed her late father’s apartment at five in the evening. It was a simple matter to transfer her two suitcases to the lift, and moments later she was plonking them on the bed in the only bedroom.
Her father had originally had his office in Newcastle, but after the death of Nick Gregoris, and Leon taking the place of his father, the firm had expanded rapidly. The English headquarters had been moved to London, at Leon’s instigation. Bea had been twelve when her father had begun travelling to London on a Monday and staying two or three days, safe in the knowledge that Bea was at school all day and Lil was there to look after her.
Glancing around the familiar bedroom, Bea thought fondly of the times in the school holidays when her dad had taken her to London with him occasionally. With a shake of her fair head, she told herself not to get sentimental, and set about unpacking her belongings.
Ten minutes later she stared in amazement at the kitchen table. Someone had anticipated her arrival. A huge vase full of red roses was at the centre, and propped against it was an envelope. Picking it up, she quickly slit it open and withdrew a sheet of notepaper. She recognised the bold, sloping writing immediately. It was from Leon—a rather childish poem.
Enjoy the roses while you may
Tomorrow is a working day.
The fridge is stocked, the larder too
Behave yourself until I’m with you.
A small smile twitched her full lips; she had forgotten. Almost every time she had seen Leon when she was a child he had made up a stupid rhyme for her. She racked her brain, trying to remember the first one.
The lovely lady fair
Almost lost her hair
By playing near a willow
When she should have been asleep on her pillow
Bea’s grin broadened. Leon had been good fun as an uncle figure. Pity their relationship had not stayed that way. The smile faded from her face to be replaced with a frown.
What did he mean, until I’m with you? The note fell unnoticed from her hand and quickly she turned around. Bea opened the refrigerator door and was not surprised to see it stocked full, including a bottle of white wine. The cupboard was the same. Uneasily she walked into the living room and glanced around. Had Leon been here? And, more importantly, how the hell had he got in? She had the only key. Anyway, he was supposed to be in America.
Suddenly the safety of her apartment seemed threatened, and she didn’t like it, not one bit... Think, woman, think, she told herself. Of course! A sigh of relief escaped her and she sank down on the sofa. The caretaker had a master key. Leon must have sent the note and instructions to provide the goodies to the caretaker.
Relieved to have the mystery settled, she made full use of the food provided to make herself an omelette and salad, washed down with a glass of wine, then she went to bed.
‘Ready to go yet, Bea?’
Bea glanced up and smiled at the tall red-headed girl asking the question. Actually, Margot was a woman in every sense of the word, about thirty-eight years old. As personal assistant to Tom Jordan, she knew everything about the business.
‘I thought, if you have nothing special to do tonight, we could stop off for a pizza and a glass of wine or two on the way home.’
‘Oh, sorry, Margot, I forgot to mention—I’ve arranged to meet a boyfriend for dinner and I’m going straight from here.’
‘Ah, a heavy date with the male of the species—and you with only two weeks of living in the city. How do you do it?’
Bea grinned. ‘His name is Jack, I’ve known him for years, and he comes from my home town.’
‘Interesting, is he?’ Margot queried, with a suggestive flicker of her eyebrows.
‘Well, he did once tie me up.’
‘Bondage... This I must hear. If you get back before eleven pop in and tell me all about him. It’s about the only way I get a thrill nowadays. Vicariously.’
‘Liar,’ Bea chuckled. ‘I’ve heard you on the telephone to a certain financial advisor in the office three floors above us.’
Margot winked. ‘Enough said. Tom left half an hour ago, so I’m off. Enjoy yourself.’ And, closing the door behind her as she left, Bea heard her shout, ‘Don’t forget to lock the outer door.’
A lingering smile played around Bea’s lips. She could still hear a mumble coming from next door—probably Margot talking to herself. She was prone to speaking her thoughts out loud.
Though Bea hated to admit that Leon could be right about anything, he had been right about Margot becoming a friend. Over the past two weeks the two women had developed a good working relationship, and had also become firm pals.
The offices of Stephen-Gregoris occupied the first floor of a prestigious block in the heart of the city, and, arriving for work on her first day, Bea had naturally felt nervous. A rather superior blonde girl had shown her to what was to be her office, but in fact was a small partitioned section of Margot’s much larger one, which in turn led straight to the manager’s. Then Margot had walked out of Tom Jordan’s office, apologised for not being there to greet her, and had immediately taken Bea under her wing.
Only Tom Jordan and Margot knew Bea owned part of the company, but Margot showed no resentment at the fact. She had taken Bea on a tour of the office, and introduced her to all the staff with the explanation that Bea was the new graduate trainee who was to work in each department for a few weeks to get the feel of the operation and would probably end up in the finance section.
The fact that Margot’s apartment was in the same block as Bea’s was an added bonus. They’d quickly decided to travel to work together, and had shared the occasional meal or a gossip over coffee.
Stretching, Bea glanced at her watch: it was after six. She was meeting Jack at Covent Garden, a short taxi ride away. Jack had done extremely well for himself; he’d gained a first at Oxford and for the past two years had held a high-profile job with a top merchant bank in London. It would be good fun to catch up on all his news.
With a contented sigh at the completion of the last spreadsheet, Bea switched off her computer terminal and stood up. It was very quiet, but then the building usually emptied early on a Friday.
Bea reckoned she had just enough time for a wash and brush-up, and, with a quick glance around the room, she picked up her bag from the desk, checked she had the office key, and left.
Crossing Margot’s office, Bea hesitated. What was that sound she’d heard? She turned and looked around. That’s funny, she thought, the door to Tom Jordan’s office is half open. It’s unlike Margot to forget to lock it.
She waited a moment longer, but everything was quiet, and so, with a shrug of her shoulders, she crossed to where she knew Margot kept a spare key in her desk drawer. And got another surprise. The key was not in the drawer, but lying on the desktop. The woman’s mind was slipping; Bea would tease her about it tomorrow.
A couple of seconds later and Bea had closed and locked Tom’s door, and the outer one behind her.
Singing softly to herself—she was looking forward to tonight—Bea headed for the ladies’ room. Stephen-Gregoris provided excellent facilities for the female staff. A pleasant restroom with a locker provided for everyone, two shower cubicles and the usual accompaniments. Opening her locker, she withdrew a towel and toilet bag and crossed to the row of vanity basins occupying one wall.
She was not going to change; the smart blue suit, with its double-breasted short-sleeved jacket and short straight skirt, which she had worn all day with a high-necked white blouse, would do for the evening—minus the blouse. Bea removed her jacket and the blouse and hung them on the back of a chair, and then quickly washed and redid her make-up. Slipping the jacket back on, she fastened the buttons and checked her image in the mirror.
She pursed her lips; the deep vee of the jacket lapels maybe revealed a little too much cleavage. She would have to remember not to bend forward and reveal the lace of her bra—or maybe she could remove the bra! What the hell? she told herself. You’re in the city now... And she did. Then, rashly, she unpinned her hair from its rather severe chignon and let it fall loose about her shoulders.
Her jacket back in place, she stopped in the act of picking up her hairbrush. Was that someone hurrying down the corridor? Must be Security... Tipping her head forward, she brushed her hair until it crackled with life and then swung it back. The effect was rather good, even if she did say so herself. Having been pinned up all day, her usually straight silver-blonde hair had developed a rather nice bouncy curl around the ends.
A quick spray of her favourite perfume, and she was ready. Quickly she replaced her toiletries in the locker, with her discarded bra and blouse, and with a last look at her reflection she made for the door.
Bea stepped out into the hall. Just at that moment the office door she had so recently locked was flung open. She expected to see a security man, but what she actually saw stopped her in her tracks.
‘You—you crazy little bitch. I might have guessed,’ Leon Gregoris roared, and came barrelling towards her, a security man hard on his heels, apologising madly.
‘Leave it—and us. I will deal with this,’ Leon snarled at the poor man, and Bea watched in open-mouthed amazement as the security man disappeared at a run. She turned back just in time to have Leon grab her by the arm. ‘I suppose you thought that was funny—a stupid, childish practical joke. My God! Are you never going to grow up?’
Bea shook her head. It was a dream—it had to be. One minute she was in an empty office building, preparing for a date, the next Leon had appeared out of nowhere, breathing fire and brimstone. She hadn’t been far wrong when she’d thought he looked like a warlock. She glanced curiously up into his red, furious face; the devil himself might be nearer the mark.
‘Well, woman, what have you to say for yourself?’
‘I haven’t the foggiest notion what you’re talking about,’ she offered, with another shake of her head. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and white silk shirt, with a maroon silk tie half undone around his neck. The white of his shirt only served to emphasise his darkly flushed features. ‘Where did you come from?’ she asked in obvious puzzlement.
Hell itself, if the flames leaping in his black eyes were anything to go by as they seared down into hers!
‘Don’t give me that wide-eyed innocent look. You deliberately locked me in that office. Didn’t you?’
Suddenly she was aware of the fierce grip of his hand around her forearm; the heat of his large body seemed to reach out to engulf her. Swallowing hard, she tried to pull free. ‘Locked you in the office?’ she muttered inanely. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know you were here,’ she added, gathering her composure. ‘I think you’ve had a brainstorm. Maybe you should see a doctor.’
‘I sometimes wonder that myself. Why I put up with you I will never know,’ Leon grated, scowling down at her. ‘You drive me to distraction almost every time we meet. What is it with you? Is it your purpose in life to deliberately make me look a fool?’
‘I don’t have to; you do that very well yourself. That poor security man looked petrified. What on earth did you say to him?’ She watched him warily; she saw him take a few deep breaths, his massive chest expand and contract beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. For a second he closed his eyes, and then he opened them again.

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