Consequence Of The Greek′s Revenge
Consequence Of The Greek's Revenge
Trish Morey
His vengeful seduction……will bind them together—forever!Athena Nikolides is wary of being exploited for her newly-inherited fortune. But charismatic Alexios Kyriakos is already a billionaire, and with their overwhelmingly intense desire, Athena feels safe with him. So she’s devastated to learn Alexios only wants her to avenge himself against her father! But when the consequence of their undeniable passion is revealed, now he wants her for so much more…
His vengeful seduction...
...will bind them together—forever!
Athena Nikolides is wary of being exploited for her newly inherited fortune. But charismatic Alexios Kyriakos is already a billionaire, and with their overwhelmingly intense desire, Athena feels safe with him. So she’s devastated to learn Alexios only wants her to avenge himself against her father! But when the consequence of their undeniable passion is revealed, now he wants her for so much more...
Feel the tension in this dramatic pregnancy romance!
USA TODAY bestselling author TRISH MOREY just loves happy endings. Now that her four daughters are (mostly) grown and off her hands, having left the nest, Trish is rapidly working out that a real happy ending is when you downsize, end up alone with the guy you married and realise you still love him. There’s a happy-ever-after right there. Or a happy new beginning! Trish loves to hear from her readers—you can email her at trish@trishmorey.com (http://www.trish@trishmorey.com).
Also by Trish Morey (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
A Price Worth Paying?
Bartering Her Innocence
The Heir from Nowhere
His Prisoner in Paradise
His Mistress for a Million
Desert Brothers miniseries
Duty and the Beast
The Sheikh’s Last Gamble
Captive of Kadar
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Consequence of the Greek’s Revenge
Trish Morey
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07264-9
CONSEQUENCE OF THE GREEK’S REVENGE
© 2018 Trish Morey
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Thank you, dear reader.
It’s good to be back.
Contents
Cover (#u8dd65b0b-b717-5f91-b8a1-d4c02b936fe1)
Back Cover Text (#ud1d8f70f-7200-5976-a5b6-f2c21f474435)
About the Author (#u6514f973-558b-548e-b235-72660454db55)
Booklist (#uc74f98d1-98b6-5e3b-a229-cc940921c6a3)
Title Page (#u93926451-a310-5f8b-96dc-3f498aaced26)
Copyright (#uf34157b1-a343-54ed-af7b-a94f329a0490)
Dedication (#ufd681717-c53f-5e8a-881c-0bca521311e7)
CHAPTER ONE (#ucfd78cc2-f293-59d4-8533-8b0adc4b2ebd)
CHAPTER TWO (#u870ae8a5-ed60-5567-a9a5-b90c025958ee)
CHAPTER THREE (#u608e4cfe-deaa-5a80-a7c1-2737f1f5da89)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc03d05e6-f51a-55d4-867a-3a4307e1ba5c)
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)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
STAVROS NIKOLIDES WAS DEAD.
Alexios Kyriakos balled his hands into fists as he read the online news report. The man his father had looked up to and trusted like no other, the man who had subsequently betrayed him and left him broken and shattered, had suffered a massive heart attack while partying on his yacht, his life snuffed out between a magnum of champagne and his bikini-clad mistress.
Dead.
It should be enough.
He stood, unable to digest the news sitting down, the muscles in his long legs itching for action, and carrying him to the wall of glass that looked out across the city of Athens to the Acropolis where the ruins of the Parthenon baked under a relentlessly hot Greek sun.
The gods had exacted their revenge.
It should be enough.
Except that it wasn’t.
Instead Alexios felt cheated. Denied the opportunity to yank Stavros’s diamond-encrusted life out from beneath him. Denied the opportunity to balance the scales on his own terms, when vengeance had been so damned close he could taste it.
Where was the revenge he’d promised his father on his deathbed? Where was the levelling of the score he’d worked towards these last ten years? He’d never once begged the gods to solve his problems. He’d stood on his own two feet and looked after himself from day one. Why now had they intervened and stolen the vengeance he had worked so hard for?
He stared up at the mount, teeming with sweltering tourists, as if the answer lay there, amidst the ruins of the Parthenon and the Temple of Athena Nike. And a switch flicked in his head.
Athena.
He strode back to the desk, scrolling down the report, pausing when he came to the two photographs. One grainy file shot of her in a string bikini draped on a yacht anchored off the Amalfi Coast, the other of her wearing dark glasses and a pinched expression as she pushed past the cameras and microphones jostling for a picture and a reaction outside the hospital morgue where her father’s body had been taken.
Athena Nikolides. Twenty-seven-year-old product of Stavros’s short-lived marriage to an Australian model turned actress, and now no doubt heiress to a fortune—a fortune her father had stolen from anyone and everyone he could steal from.
Athena Nikolides.
With her mother’s stunning looks and her father’s ill-gotten fortune.
There was his revenge.
CHAPTER TWO (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
ATHENA SAT NUMBLY in a café in Thera, barely registering the coffee she’d ordered set before her, let alone the sprawling sea-filled caldera of Santorini far below or the way its surface sparkled like jewels under a September sun that still packed a punch.
It was the three cruise ships that lay anchored that held her gaze, or, rather, their tenders, busy like bees ferrying passengers back to their vessels after a day riding donkeys up the steep steps and wandering the cobbled steps of the towns clinging to the cliff’s edge. Idly she watched the tiny boats come and go, their movements vaguely therapeutic.
She took a long breath of the clean salt air, and let it out slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders and neck dissipate with the steady rhythm of their to-ing and fro-ing, easing the dull ache in her head she’d had ever since leaving the sterile steel and concrete offices of her father’s lawyers in Athens.
It was the shock, she knew. The shock, and the strain of trying to follow a legal conversation delivered in rapid-fire Greek, that had made her head spin. Her conversational skills might have been enough to get her through her university studies, but they were no match for the full-on onslaught of legalese she’d had to interpret, and the certainty that she must have got it wrong.
It wasn’t until she’d held up one hand and appealed to them that she didn’t understand, that nothing made sense, that one of them had taken pity on her, and uttered the words in English. ‘It’s quite simple, Athena, your father left it all to you. Everything he owned. Every last euro.’
And even delivered in English, that had made the least sense of all.
She shook her head, just as she’d shaken her head then, still battling to come to terms with a morning that defied logic and had left her reeling.
She’d entered the offices confused about why she’d even been summoned, only to exit it one hour later baffled, because suddenly she was one of the richest women in Greece. The estranged father who’d disinherited her when she was in her teens had left it all to her, his fortune, a home in Athens, a super-yacht complete with helicopter, and then the jewel in the crown, the Aegean island of Argos.
Every last bit of his fortune left to her.
And she’d had no idea.
She tossed back her coffee as a string of donkeys led by a man with a leathered face clip-clopped lethargically by, the animals worn out from ferrying cruise-ship passengers up and down the cobbled path to the crater’s edge. It was impossible not to feel for the creatures, but there was good reason Santorini attracted so many visitors. The stark beauty of the ring of islands and its seemingly bottomless blue crater, the dark looming cliffs of ancient volcanic ash with their white buildings around the crater’s rim like icing on a cake. Along with the famous sunsets.
Athena loved it for all those reasons and more, for its rich ancient history and for the elemental power of the weather, the wind so wild at times, it threatened to hurl you from the crater’s edge. As she felt now. Tossed by the winds of fortune.
She’d been so right to come.
She felt real here. Humbled.
Besides, where else would she go?
Back to Melbourne where she’d grown up after her parents had divorced, where all her school friends were, or to the tiny dot of a village from where her father had come, that she remembered only one time visiting as a child? She could go to either, but she would be known. Friends in Melbourne. Family in the village to welcome their long-lost relative. Her aunts and uncles and cousins many times removed. There would be hugs and tears and concern for how she was coping, and that would be lovely, but there would be no room to think.
And after this morning’s revelations, more than ever, she needed to think.
Whereas she could breathe here, on this magical island in the midst of the Aegean. She could think. And right now she desperately needed to do both.
‘May I?’
It was the voice that compelled her to look up, rather than just wave her agreement to share her table as she usually would, the voice that punctuated the hubbub of the chatter around her. Rich and thick, like the grounds in the bottom of her tiny coffee cup, and so deep she could almost feel its vibrations. A voice that suited him, she discovered a moment later. Immaculate was the word that sprang first into her mind. Tall and dark, with chiselled jaw and thick dark hair closely swept back at the sides, longer and sculpted in waves at the top.
But it was his eyes that hers had to return to for a second look. Dark and long-lashed, they held too much to be the eyes of someone simply looking for a place to sip their coffee, and an electric jolt zapped down her spine.
His lips turned up into a smile and her brain kicked back in.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’
He curled his long frame onto the stool alongside her, the outside of his leg brushing hers, a kiss of sudden heat that made her jump. She pulled her legs away, took a calming breath.
‘You like your coffee strong.’
It wasn’t a question.
She nodded without looking up, her fingers cradling the tiny cup. ‘It helps me think.’
‘Thinking is good,’ he said, taking a sip of his own coffee before adding, ‘But you also need to find something that makes you smile.’
She looked across at him quizzically. ‘Excuse me, but do I know you?’
‘Do I need to know you to know you look sad? Pensive? Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?’
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t believe anyone was talking to her this way, let alone a stranger.
‘No,’ he said into the silence between them, swirling his own coffee in his big hand. Long tapered fingers, she noticed, dusted with tiny dark hairs and finished with neatly trimmed nails. ‘We’ve never met,’ he said, without taking his dark eyes from hers. ‘There is no way I would have forgotten, if we had.’
His eyes and words combined so it felt like a velvet glove stroking its way down her spine, and it was so long since she’d felt anything close to a spark of attraction, an eternity it seemed, that she could almost forgive him for initiating a conversation no stranger had a right to.
And for all she knew there should be no reason to stay and talk, her coffee finished, for some reason she was tempted to linger, and experience these foreign feelings just that bit longer.
‘My name is Alexios,’ he offered, and she knew he was in no rush to go anywhere in a hurry either.
‘Athena,’ she said.
‘Ah. Goddess of wisdom and craft.’
She smiled. ‘Not to mention goddess of war.’
He conceded her point with a tilt of his head, his dark hair glossy under the sun’s light. ‘True enough, yet possessing a calm temperament and moving slowly to anger, and then only to fight for just causes.’
‘You know your ancient Greek mythology,’ she said, impressed.
He shrugged. ‘I am Greek,’ he said, confirming what she’d suspected, even though they’d been speaking in English. ‘It would be ignorant of me to be unaware of my heritage.’
‘And so, Alexios—’ She thought for a moment. ‘That would make you a defender of mankind, am I right?’
He smiled, and again she was taken aback by how good-looking he was when he smiled, his lips framed by his shadowed face, darker in the cleft of his jaw, while the unbuttoned neck of his shirt shifted softly in the breeze, drawing her eyes further south, the stark white linen contrasting with the slice of olive skin of his throat and chest.
‘The goddess of war and the defender of mankind,’ he said. ‘The world would be a safer place in our joint hands, don’t you think?’
And suddenly she realised she’d been staring at him and she looked hastily away, knowing he was flirting with her, and finding herself enjoying it, even if she wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t do flirting. It felt like for ever since she’d felt carefree enough and interested enough to make a first move, let alone a second. ‘I don’t know about that.’
A couple squeezed past then, an American and his wife, fresh from a cruise ship and full of excited chatter at the view, and she took advantage of the distraction to shift her chair and turn her attention out over the caldera again, feigning interest in the sideways sway of the cruise ships at anchor, and the steady movement of tenders to and fro. She was nothing more than a temporary diversion in her visitor’s day. He’d soon finish his coffee and move on.
‘I have a problem,’ he said, refusing to cooperate with her expectations. ‘Maybe the woman named for the goddess of wisdom could help me.’
She looked back at him, setting her eyes to narrow, suddenly suspicious. ‘I don’t see how.’
‘You see, soon the sun will set on the most romantic island in the world, and I am eating alone.’
‘And what does that have to do with me?’
‘You could help me, very much, if you would agree to dine with me.’
She sighed, taking one last look over the sparkling waters of the caldera, feeling disappointed now. Conversation with a stranger who made her skin tingle over a shared table was one thing, dinner was another. She’d heard stories about the men who preyed on lonely women promising them all kinds of romance, and attraction was just the kind of thing that would tempt a woman to let down her guard.
And after this morning’s stunning revelations, she had more reason than ever to be wary. He couldn’t know. Nobody outside that office could possibly know, but she’d been warned to be careful, given her inheritance, and that just meant being more careful than ever.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not looking for a gigolo. Maybe you should advertise your...’ she allowed her eyes to roam purposefully over the olive-skinned vee of his chest ‘...problem, somewhere else.’
He leaned back in his chair and laughed, his shirt pulled taut over a sculpted chest so she could see the dark circles and the hard nubs of his nipples, and she could almost smell the testosterone rolling off him in waves. ‘Nobody has ever called me a gigolo before.’
She forced her eyes back to his. He was attractive. Sexy. What of it? ‘No? You don’t make a habit of picking up sad-and-lonely-looking women in bars here on Santorini?’
‘Only the very beautiful ones.’
It was her turn to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It was a ridiculous conversation and the man was outrageous, but at the same time he was like a breath of fresh air in her out-of-kilter world. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed.
He was smiling now himself. ‘You see? You should laugh more. You are even more beautiful when you laugh.’
She could say the same about him. His smile lines complemented without weakening the hard angles of his jaw, the harsh line of his mouth had softened, his lips turned up. Warmer.
And his eyes—his eyes looked at her as if he knew her. It was disconcerting. She blinked that thought away. Nobody knew who she was. Nobody knew she was here. She’d left the lawyer’s offices and headed straight to her apartment to pack a carry bag, booking a flight in the taxi on the way to the airport.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s it to be? Dinner with me or a night alone and morose and a lifetime spent regretting it?’
‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
‘I’m very sure of the fact I want to have dinner with you. I want to get to know you better.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have a feeling I’m going to like what I discover. Very much.’
She shook her head. It was ridiculous to feel half tempted. She didn’t do blind dates. She didn’t let herself get picked up in cafés. She didn’t let herself get picked up, period. And that little voice in her head asking her why not just this one time could just get back in its box and shut up, especially given the lawyers’ warnings.
Except the voice in her head was conspiring with Alexios’s pleading dark chocolate eyes to resist arrest. Why shouldn’t she have dinner with this man? it argued. What was wrong with feeling attracted to him and actually acting on it? Nobody knew who she was, and even if people had seen photos of her in the press, she was no household name. People might think she looked familiar, but she hadn’t been interesting or scandalous enough to become common paparazzi fodder—not for a long time.
After the undisciplined years of her late teens, she’d made sure of that. She’d been cautious. Responsible. Determined to keep out of the public eye as much as possible. Which meant not taking unnecessary risks, however good-looking those risks might be.
‘No,’ she said finally, common sense winning over recklessness, not letting him argue further when he raised one hand as if to protest. ‘I’m afraid not. Thanks for the conversation. It’s been...’
‘Tempting?’
‘Interesting.’ Although she knew his word was far closer to the truth.
Someone brushed quickly behind her before moving away—a waiter gathering cups and plates, she presumed—so she had to wait a few moments until she could push her chair back. ‘It’s been lovely chatting. Have a pleasant evening.’ And then she reached beside her to where she’d left her bags. Except there was only one there. She blinked, checking on the floor under and around the chair.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘My handbag,’ she said. ‘It’s gone.’ She scanned the café, saw a man scooting between the tables towards the exit, the white strap of her shoulder bag trailing under the crook of his arm, and felt the sickening realisation that it hadn’t been a waiter or even a customer brushing past behind her, but a thief. He glimpsed back over his shoulder as if checking he’d made a clean getaway, guilt written all over his profile, and she was on her feet, pointing. ‘Stop!’ she cried, before appealing to the startled restaurant patrons, ‘That man’s stolen my bag. Someone stop him!’
‘Wait here,’ said Alexios, with a comforting hand to her shoulder and already off in pursuit, heads of patrons turning as he cut a swathe through the tables.
The waiter stood back for Alexios before he wove his way across to her, full of apologies and consolation. ‘Let me get you another coffee,’ he offered.
‘Not coffee,’ she said, not needing it. Her heart was already beating wildly in her chest. It needed no more stimulation. Her passport and her purse were in that bag. The thief had a head start on Alexios. If he disappeared amidst the alleyways of Thera and if she lost it...
The waiter nodded, only to return with sparkling water instead, and a tiny ouzo, ‘To calm your nerves’, while an American woman at the next table leaned over to pat her on the arm, tut-tutting about thieves who preyed on tourists, and hoping that Athena’s husband would get her handbag back.
She didn’t have the heart to tell the woman the truth, that they had never met before today. Because the second Alexios had disappeared, another unpalatable possibility had already wiggled its way into her consciousness, that her would-be rescuer and thief had been working together, one to distract her with compliments and meaningless conversation, while the other worked out the best time to strike. She’d assumed he was some kind of gigolo when all the time he was more likely some kind of common thief.
A devastatingly handsome, charming thief.
More fool her.
The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, all the smooth-talking compliments he’d given coming back to haunt her, mocking her. He’d called her beautiful and she’d been charmed stupid because of it. And suddenly she couldn’t sit there any more. Why was she waiting for a stranger to return with her purse? She should be going to the police.
The waiter waved aside the bill when she promised to return, when there was a commotion at the door, followed by applause and cheers, and there, standing in the doorway, was Alexios, breathing hard and holding her bag.
Relief surged like a wave over her. Never had she seen a more welcome sight. ‘You caught him?’
‘I did,’ he said, handing her the bag. ‘The boy won’t be bothering anyone around here again.’
More cheers rose from the patrons and Alexios was hailed a hero while Athena opened her bag to check her passport and purse were still there. ‘I was just about to go to the police. Should we report it anyway, in case he tries again?’
‘He didn’t have time to open it, let alone steal anything,’ Alexios assured her. ‘And after the talking-to I gave him, I’m sure he won’t be trying that again any time soon.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, peeling off some bills to pay for their coffees. ‘My passport and my credit cards are in here. I don’t know how to repay you.’
He smiled. ‘That’s hardly necessary. Though, if you insist, my invitation still stands to come to dine with me, if you care to change your mind?’
Her eyelids closed on a slow blink. The man had just rescued her handbag and she felt a flush of guilt for thinking Alexios might be working alongside the thief. And after he had proven himself trustworthy by catching up with the thief who had stolen her bag, it would be churlish to refuse dinner with him now, surely?
Besides, just for once it was nice to be able to give into temptation and not feel guilty about it. What possible harm could it do?
Her smile told him all he needed to know. He was already smiling himself before she uttered the words, ‘It would be my pleasure. Of course I’ll have dinner with you.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
HE HAD HER.
He’d never doubted it would work, of course. He’d expected her to refuse his advances, but he’d been prepared for that. What better way to secure her agreement than to make her believe she owed him? It had all gone off with domino simplicity, and now the blood in his veins pumped with new purpose, his plan unfolding as he led her through the winding paths and towards the table for two he’d prearranged that would give the best view of the sunset.
‘Santorini is my favourite Greek island,’ he said, as they strolled together through the labyrinthine paths. There was no need to rush. Sunset was still some time away, despite the jockeying already going on for positions. ‘Perhaps my favourite place in the world.’
‘Mine too,’ she said.
‘Is that so? Then we have something in common. This is a good place to start, don’t you think?’
She smiled in a way that told him she was amused rather than impressed. ‘I’m sure it’s a favourite for many people in the world.’
‘True,’ he conceded, knowing he still had work to do. She’d agreed to dinner but she was still wavering, he could see, still cautious. But she’d come around. It wasn’t as if it were a chore to charm her. He’d been speaking the truth to her over coffee. When she smiled, her face came alight, her surprisingly blue eyes dancing, and the most surprising discovery of all—dimples in her cheeks either side of her lush mouth, that turned classically beautiful into bewitching.
And then there was the way she moved. Wearing a cute nineteen-fifties-inspired sundress, with wide shoulders and full skirt all cinched in at the waist to accentuate the slim form that lay beneath, she moved with model grace, the sway of her hips sending the skirt of her dress in a seductive motion that had him already itching to peel it off.
No, it would be no hardship bedding her. No hardship at all. And before she knew it, she’d be so busy luxuriating in the glow of the loved, he’d relieve her of her fortune without her even noticing.
And by the time she did, revenge would be his.
It was perfect.
The sun was slipping lower in the sky, couples and groups of tourists already staking their claim for what they thought the best vantage point from which to witness the sun dipping into the sea in all its molten glory.
He made small talk as they wended their way through the town, keeping it light, making way when another train of tired donkeys lumbered home past them, their brightly coloured tassels swaying on their foreheads.
‘Here we are,’ he said, stopping at a locked gate on the caldera side of the path. He punched in a number and pushed it open, making way for her.
He saw the surprise on her face when she registered that they were outside a palace, a remnant of the Venetian occupation of Santorini in centuries long past. ‘I thought we were going to a restaurant. But this...’
‘Is a very private restaurant.’
She turned to him, her blue eyes confused. ‘But this is a home. A palace.’
‘With the best views in Thera. I’m staying here.’
‘Staying here? Like a guest?’
He answered with a welcoming sweep of his arm. ‘Come inside, I’ll show you the view from the terrace.’
She stayed exactly where she was, half inside the gate and half outside, her head tilted to the side. ‘Who are you?’
‘I told you. My name is Alexios. Alexios Kyriakos.’ He looked at the still-open gate behind her. ‘The gate isn’t locked from the inside, but I can always leave the gate open, if you prefer, if you think you might need to escape.’ He paused for one heavily weighted second. ‘If you don’t trust me, that is.’
He swore she almost blushed at his mention of trust. Of course, she trusted him now. She shook her head, looking contrite, pushing the loose tendrils of her hair back behind her ears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge today, especially after what happened at the café. There’s no need to leave it open, of course.’ And she moved out of the way so he could shut the gate.
He didn’t show her inside. Instead he ushered her along a path that wove around the side of the building that opened onto an expansive terrace with a breathtaking view of the islands that made up the broken circle of the caldera, formed in the massive eruption of the volcano beneath thousands of years before. Below them, the almost sheer wall of layered volcanic residue fell away so it felt as if they were suspended over the very edge of the crater. And there, in the gap between the islands, hovered the setting sun, dipping inexorably on its journey towards the sea.
She leaned her hands down on the balustrade, turning her face into the breeze that rushed up the sides of the cliffs, and breathing in the fresh salt air. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He hung back, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t crowd her. He didn’t hover by her side. He wanted her to feel secure. Safe. It was his pleasure now to watch her. And wait for the right moment.
She turned towards him, the setting sun picking up the golden flecks in her blue eyes, turning them to jewels. Oh, he could wait for the right moment, just so long as he didn’t have to wait too long.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘while we wait for the sun to perform its magic, perhaps you would like to eat.’ He waved his arm behind, where the doors of the palace had been flung open, to reveal a table set for two dressed in white.
Her brows drew together as she took in the scene. ‘How is this possible when we only met this afternoon?’
He smiled, loving her suspicious mind. If only she knew. ‘The staff were expecting me for dinner,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I simply called from the café after you agreed to dine with me to ensure there would be enough for two.’
She wandered closer to the table, set with crystal glasses and silverware and tiny vases filled with fresh thyme and rosemary, the scent wafting on the warm breeze like the sheer curtains billowing behind the doorways.
‘You understand now why I had no desire to keep this all to myself?’
She nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’
‘Then please sit, and eat, and afterwards we shall enjoy the sunset together.’
As if on cue, the serving staff appeared, delivering warm breads and freshly made dips to the table, followed by pan-fried saganaki cheese topped with balsamic figs along with the freshest baby squid, an array of grilled meats and all washed down with the finest Santorini Vinsanto wine.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, at one point, leaning back in her chair, her glass of wine in her hand.
He raised his own glass to her. ‘It is my pleasure.’
‘Tell me,’ she asked, leaning forward after taking a sip of wine, ‘why is it that you are here, all alone on Santorini?’
‘I am here primarily for business.’
She arched an eyebrow at that, an obvious question. ‘Not,’ he added, ‘that I have a wife or girlfriend I could have brought to accompany me.’
‘And why is that?’ she asked, gesturing glass in hand to the palace behind and the spectacular caldera view before them. ‘When clearly you are a man of means—and, as you are no doubt aware, not entirely unpleasant looks.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘“Not entirely unpleasant”? That is good news, indeed. But as to your question, I’m afraid I’ve been too much of a workaholic. Driven, some might say.’
Especially when it came to the pursuit of justice.
‘Although not too driven to chat me up.’
He shrugged. ‘Lately I have become aware of how isolated I have become. Meeting you cemented an appreciation of the error of my ways.’
‘Wow,’ she said, her blue eyes bright. ‘That’s a heady responsibility you’re piling upon my shoulders. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed.’
He smiled. ‘Now you’re laughing at me.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m just not used to flirting.’
‘Neither am I,’ he said with a smile. ‘Although I am finding it an entirely pleasurable pastime. If I might be so bold as to ask, why are you here alone?’
‘Like I said, Santorini is my favourite Greek island. I like to come here to think.’
‘Do you have so much to think about?’
‘Who doesn’t?’ she said with a shrug, not giving anything away. ‘What kind of business are you in?’
He smiled at her quick volley, but didn’t push it. He’d learned in his dealings with people that the way to make them open up was to pretend indifference, to let them set the agenda. He knew that sooner or later she’d wander back into the topic of her own accord. ‘Shipping mainly. Cargo and containers, timetables and paperwork. It’s boring.’
‘I’m sure it’s not,’ she said. ‘Is it a family business?’
‘No. I have no family.’
‘What, none at all?’
He gave the briefest shake of his head, feeling a familiar rising tide of bitterness, thinking how different things might have been—should have been—if not for the greed and the actions of this woman’s father. He swallowed back on the surge. He didn’t need a tidal wave. All he needed now were ripples—a reminder—of why he was here, and why doing this was so right. ‘There’s nobody,’ he said. ‘Not now.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her teeth finding her lip while she blinked too fast. ‘It seems we have more than one thing in common. My mother died when I was sixteen. I—I lost my own father a month ago.’
He schooled his features to compassion, even as he smiled inwardly. She might have a sad story, but it was no match for a story of betrayal. ‘Is that what you’re here on Santorini to think about?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, her misty eyes clouding over as she looked away, out towards the sun, now sending a golden-red ribbon of colour across the water. ‘Look,’ she said, standing. ‘The sun is setting.’
He followed her to the balustrade, to where they could see the white buildings that adorned the caldera rim now washed in red, the sun a fat golden orb bending the painted layers of the sky beneath.
‘So beautiful,’ she said, her eyes fixed on the spectacular display.
She was, he thought, watching her rather than the sunset, and soon she would be his. The knowledge made him burn. The perfect revenge and the only disappointment was that Stavros wasn’t here to see it. But then, it would be a much more extensive—and satisfying—revenge than he’d had planned.
‘Look,’ he said, putting mere fingertips to the fabric at the small of her back while he pointed out to the midst of the darkening sea, where a sailing boat bobbed in a ribbon of golden light.
‘Oh,’ she said, and he knew it was because he’d touched her, because he’d felt her shuddering response, and knew she was ripe for the taking.
Oh, yes, he would play this cherished daughter of his nemesis like a fish on a hook. Play her, use her, and then he would break her, just as her father had broken his father.
And then he would walk away.
* * *
To Athena, it seemed the sunset was being performed for her and Alexios and for them alone. There was nobody else within earshot, no evidence of other human life beyond a solitary sailing boat far below them on the sea, while the colours around her intensified, the range narrowed to red and gold and every brilliant shade in between.
And then suddenly his hand was gone from the small of her back, and despite the spectacular glory going on around her it was that tiny touch she missed. Missed his warmth but most of all the spark he’d triggered in her flesh. And now the sun was setting, burning brighter, until it kissed the water and, despite knowing better, Athena held her breath in anticipation of the hiss of steam at the union.
But even the sunset could not make her forget Alexios was still here, close beside her. Never had she been more aware of a man’s presence in her life. He was right there at her shoulder. So close she could once again smell the lemon tang of his soap. So close she could feel his body’s warmth on her bare arm.
So close.
And yet he didn’t make a move towards her.
Slowly, inexorably, the sea embraced the sun, and with every passing second Athena wished he would touch her again, even if only to point out something else.
Though more than that, she wished, leaning closer, her bare arm brushing his, setting her skin alight, that he would kiss her. In this perfect moment with the perfect excuse of the most romantic sunset in the world as a backdrop.
Why did he not try to touch her?
Why didn’t he kiss her?
But while the air all but crackled between them, even while her body swayed of its own accord towards his, frustratingly he moved no closer to her. Still, he made no move at all.
By the time the sea swallowed the sun whole and the last glimmer of light was extinguished, her strung-out nerves were at breaking point for fruitless, pointless, wishing.
She reached for and clung to the balustrade with both hands, disappointment weighing heavy in her sigh.
‘Amazing,’ he said beside her, and his deep voice rippled into the fabric of her soul. She felt silly now that the rush of disappointment was over. All this time she’d been wary and suspicious and all the time he really had only wanted to share a meal and a sunset with someone.
She put her unfamiliar libido back in the dusty box where it had come from. She had no right to be disappointed. She hadn’t wanted anything to happen really. It was the sunset and the colour and the heart-stopping beauty of an island the gods had blessed with unimaginable riches to compensate for locating it over an active volcano.
‘That was spectacular,’ she said, turning her back to the balustrade now the show was over. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me, and for a wonderful dinner. I should probably be heading off now.’
‘You don’t want to stay for coffee?’
She shook her head. She felt foolish now. Carried away by the romance of the island. Reading too much into a simple invitation. If it was any lighter here on the balcony, he would surely see her face glowing red.
She crossed back towards the table where she’d left her bag, searching for a lightness she didn’t feel. ‘I have a confession to make.’
‘You do?’
‘I actually thought—I mean—just for a while there, when you took off chasing the thief, well, I’m sorry to admit that I half wondered if you hadn’t been working together, and that I’d never see you, or my bag, again.’
He shook his head, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. ‘You honestly believed me capable of behaving in such a despicable manner?’
She cast her eyes downwards. ‘I’m so sorry. I was strung out. I don’t know why else I would have thought such a thing.’
His dark eyes narrowed. His lips turned up on one side. ‘But then, you thought I was some kind of gigolo too.’
‘God, don’t remind me. I’m sorry about that too.’
He leaned an arm up onto the wall beside her and she was struck by the poetry in the slow but sure movement of his muscled limbs. ‘You thought I was going to seduce you.’
‘To be fair, I didn’t know what to think. I was alone and you were very charming. Are very charming. What was a woman on her own to think? But you’ve proved me wrong and I’ve had the most wonderful evening, thank you.’ She put out a hand to shake his.
He stared down at it, a crease tugging dark brows together. ‘Are you disappointed?’
‘What?’
‘That I didn’t try to seduce you?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t... I’m not sure...’
His eyes met hers, and in their dark depths she saw an insecurity and wavering that mirrored her own, an insecurity she would never have expected to see in this man’s, not when he otherwise appeared so confident and assured. An insecurity she instinctively wanted to smooth away and reassure.
‘Because you must know,’ he said, ‘I wanted to kiss you.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘You did?’
‘When the sun was setting before us and it was like we were part of it, rather than just watching, and I could see the look of wonder on your face—in that moment I ached to reach out a hand and touch you.’
‘You did?’ She tossed her head back, trying to inject no more than a casual interest in his revelation. Trying to sound as if they were discussing something academic. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Because I was afraid you might run. That it would confirm your worst thoughts about me. So I held back. Let me tell you, removing my hand from your back was one of the hardest things I have ever done.’ His dark eyes trained on hers. ‘Would you have run?’
Her bag suddenly felt heavy in her hands, her limbs felt boneless and it was all she could do to remember to breathe.
‘Would you?’
The air between them seemed to shimmer with expectation. This was no game they were playing. No innocent question and answer session. This felt dangerous.
Reckless.
Athena didn’t do reckless.
Not normally. But tonight was far from normal.
And this time that voice inside her head demanded to quash any resistance and to be heard, and this time, she was only too prepared to listen.
‘No.’ Her answer was a bare whisper, and yet more than a whisper. A confession.
He closed the distance between them and put the pads of his thumb to her cheek, the fingers of his other hand tracing the line of her lips. ‘You are more beautiful than any sunset I have ever witnessed. I have wanted you since the moment we first met.’
His warm breath, scented with the cognac they’d shared, caressed her skin, and like the waves upon the sea his words rippled into her soul. Her cheek leaned into his touch, her lips parting, seeking more, tasting him.
‘If you ask me to kiss you,’ he said, ‘there is no way I could refuse.’
Her heart skipped a beat. And she knew with a woman’s sense that this was bigger than any kiss. The heat pooling in her belly, the pulse beating at her very core told her this wouldn’t stop with a kiss. But he was giving her the choice—stop now or go on.
In the end, it was no choice at all. ‘So kiss me,’ she said.
And he made a sound, guttural and deep, a sound of triumph mixed with need that rumbled straight to her veins and turned her blood to bubbles as he pulled her close and his lips met hers. Warm lips. Surprisingly soft and yet firm. Engaged in a sensual dance with hers. Slow. Gentle. Teasing. Deeper. Repeat.
Her knees turned weak. She reached for him, needing an anchor to steady herself, finding a rock as her hands tangled in the folds of his shirt and found his hard body beneath. Her fingers embraced his sculpted torso and she heard a sound like a whimper and realised it had come from her.
But he was glorious. Muscled and hard beneath her seeking fingers. Thirsty fingers, drinking in the ridges of bone and tight bunches of muscle as his mouth made magic on hers. While his long-fingered hands scooped down the sides of her head, to her shoulders, leaving trails that felt like sparks under her skin and that scorched a path all the way down via peaking nipples, to where an aching heat pulsed between her thighs.
And even as she pressed her body closer to his, closer into his kiss, she knew this was all kinds of reckless, because she knew there was no way this was stopping with a mere kiss.
And she wanted it.
She wanted it all.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
SO MUCH MORE than a mere kiss! His scent, his taste and the feel of him combined into one powerful cocktail and she wanted more. She parted her lips and he accepted her invitation, his tongue tasting, testing, before engaging hers in a sensual dance of passion and need. She was already lost in sensation, blood fizzing in her veins, when she felt the brush of his thumb against one sensitive nipple, and she gasped into his mouth with the sheer electricity of it.
He growled, liking her response, his hands growing bolder, sweeping from her shoulders to the cheeks of her behind, squeezing, her muscles clenching and tightening in response as his fingertips ventured dangerously close to her cleft.
‘Theos,’ he said, wrenching his mouth from hers. ‘Stay, and make love with me, Athena.’
She answered him with her mouth and her body, pulling his head back to hers, pressing her full length against his body, her plumping breasts hard against his chest, her hips pushed against his. She encountered the evidence of his own arousal and felt a rush of heat hard on the heels of a bloom of delight.
For so long, it seemed, she’d felt numb. Too long. Ever since she’d heard the news of her father’s death and been sideswiped by the impact it had on her. By the knowledge that now she had lost both her mother and, even if their relationship had been difficult at times, or maybe because of it, her father.
She’d been operating in a vacuum ever since.
Numb. Emotionless.
But Alexios had awakened something deep inside her and it unfurled and blossomed like a flower that had been buried under a winter snow. It was so good to feel again.
And now, all she wanted to do was feel.
Her feet went from underneath her, as he swept her up into his arms, his lips still on hers. He turned and kicked open a door, before spinning around and kicking it shut behind them. She had an impression of space, of high ceiling and billowing curtains on windows opening to the caldera, before she felt softness at her back as he laid her down in a bed hung with silken drapes of red and gold, the colours of the sunset.
Then he drew back, one knee on the bed, and looked at her in the half-light. ‘So beautiful,’ he said, and his words gave her hope that her life had turned a corner, and that the bleakness of the last few weeks might be at an end.
He tugged at the buttons on his shirt, pulled it from his shoulders and sent it fluttering to the floor. Her eyes drank him in. Wide shoulders. Sculpted chest and abdomen and arms where muscles rippled with every movement. Arms whose hands were working at his waistband, sliding down the zipper, before they too joined his shirt on the floor.
And all the while, his dark eyes didn’t leave hers, their intensity leaving her breathless and giddy, making way for one brief moment of indecision, a sudden bubble of nerves that this was happening too fast. A sudden bubble of rational thought that sprang up unbidden.
As if sensing her momentary panic, he surprised her by reaching down to kiss her again, soothing her, and already it seemed too long that he’d been away, while his hand slid beneath her to ease down the zipper at her back. With every parted tooth she felt her desire intensify and coalesce, until need was at the very essence of her. He was still kissing her as he eased the shoulder straps down her arms, still kissing her as she eased up her hips and let him peel her sundress away, until she was lying on the bed with nothing but a few scraps of lace to shield her from his view, and never, it seemed, had she felt more vulnerable.
Only then did his lips leave hers, leaving her breathless and wanting, as he drew himself back on his heels. ‘Magnificent,’ he said, and she let go a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, before he returned to her, running his strong hands up the outside of her legs, her hips, her waist and shoulders and her breathing ratcheted up another notch as he came closer, scooping her into his arms and rolling her against him.
Skin against skin. His legs tangling with hers, rough versus smooth, corded muscles against toned flesh. His abdomen against hers. Locked from head to toe. An electric connection only heightened by the places still hidden, the places still to be revealed, the places that now ached with potent need.
His hand cupped one breast and she whimpered, arching her back into his touch, while her hands roamed the glory of his sculpted back, muscles shifting with every movement, fascinating and thrilling her in equal measure, her hands drinking in the perfection of his skin-scape.
And then the lace covering her breasts was gone and she wanted to cry with relief, but when he dipped his head to take one peaked nipple into his mouth, it was a cry of ecstasy she gave as spears of pleasure shot straight to her aching core.
She was already burning up when he turned his attention to her other breast, his seeking hand now free to roam downwards, his fingertips toying with the lace edging of her underwear before inching slowly beneath the lace to cup her mound, before venturing closer to that place where her need pooled and coalesced into a living beast, demanding to be sated. She was breathing hard now, alight with the passion he’d unfurled in her, perspiration beading on her skin as, stoked by his every touch, the flames built up inside.
She was already teetering on the edge, anticipation acting like accelerant on a fire, so when his fingers parted her, finding her slick with want, her nerve endings all but screaming for his touch, she was already primed.
One gliding caress, one gentle pass by no more than a fingertip, and she climaxed against his hand. Hard. The shudders reverberating through her, wave after wave of pleasure rocking her world, until it felt as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the earth.
He kissed her as she came down, raining kisses on her mouth, on her eyes, on her sweat-slickened breasts. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, suddenly embarrassed and feeling gauche, her inexperience clearly on display.
‘Shh...’ he soothed. ‘Don’t be.’
‘But...’
‘We are just getting started.’
She blinked up at him, still catching her breath, to see him sliding down the band of black underwear at his hips. Her eyes widened in appreciation. Even bigger than she’d imagined when she’d felt the hard press of him against her belly. Even more magnificent. And despite just climaxing, despite thinking she was spent, she felt desire curl upwards inside her like tendrils of fragrance from a scented candle.
He reached across into a drawer beside the bed, ripping open the foil without taking his eyes from hers, rolling the condom down his long length, his eyes daring hers to watch his progress. ‘You see what you do to me, mikro peristeri? You see how much I burn for you?’
The endearment was sweet, but... ‘Why do you call me your little dove?’
‘Because since we met,’ he said, positioning himself between her legs, leaning on one elbow to slowly sweep the other hand from her hair to her shoulder, over one breast and her belly, and lower, his fingers curving between her thighs, ‘you are always on edge. Always looking to fly away.’
She swallowed. It was hard to hold a conversation when a man had his hand—there. ‘I’m not flying away now.’
‘No,’ he said with a smile, his fingers traversing her still-sensitive flesh, gently exploring, caressing, circling her tender core. ‘You are a gift straight from the gods. How blessed am I that I should have stumbled into your orbit?’
Why he was still trying to pleasure her with his touch and his words, she didn’t know. She would enjoy the sex, she had no doubt, but there was no point him wasting his time. She would never climax again, not after having her mind blown so completely and utterly already.
And yet he seemed in no hurry, taking his time, dipping his head again to take each nipple in turn into his hot mouth before returning to her mouth, still intent on pleasuring her. That was when she felt it, felt one long finger slide inside her. Her muscles squeezed in response at the intimate intrusion, and he growled, low in his throat, as he followed it with a second, working in concert with the pad of his thumb, their dance on her tender flesh generating sparks of sensation where she thought there would be none.
But it was impossible.
There was no way.
Except her body had other ideas. Her senses stirred, he seemed to know how much pressure, how much teasing was enough to leave her breathless and wanting more.
And then his fingers slid away, replaced with a new, heated pressure, and for a moment she felt a sense of panic, that perhaps she was being too greedy and wanting it all. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said, resting on his elbows either side of her, his hands weaving their way into her hair, holding her captive to his kiss.
And as his hot mouth told her that he’d meant what he’d said, she relaxed, her hips angling, tilting to welcome him. He seemed to sense the moment she was ready, for he chose that exact moment to lunge, driving himself deep inside her.
She cried out, not in pain, but in the completion, a delicious feeling of fullness suffusing her flesh while nerve endings lit up like sparks under her skin. And that was before he started to move.
‘Oh,’ she said, as he slowly withdrew, wanting to cling on, already missing him. But he was back, and then again, slowly accelerating, building the rhythm faster, until their ragged breathing became their accompaniment. And sparks born in the smouldering ruins of her latest climax flared into flame and flickered and danced under her skin, until with one final thrust from Alexios, accompanied by one triumphant cry, her world shook apart again, this time with his name on her lips.
It took longer to find her way back this time, her breathing ragged, her mind blanked from everything but the sudden realisation that all the stuff she’d ever believed about sex and how many times you could achieve orgasm in a night had been incinerated in the heat of their coming together, the ashes scattering to the waters of the bottomless caldera far below.
* * *
He stood at the window, looking out over the sleeping crater, a ribbon of silvery light bisecting the inky darkness and lighting a path direct to his room. Lights twinkled on the island across the water, likewise on the yacht, anchored in a bay, while all else was dark.
He looked back at the bed, at the woman lying there in the beam of silver, her hair tangled across her pillow, her lips plump and parted, deeply asleep. She’d fallen into his bed as easily as she’d fallen for his ruse, just as he’d anticipated, but she’d been so much more than he’d expected too. So much more. She’d gone off like fireworks in his bed, responsive, explosive. And then she’d climaxed again, and again, and, by the wondrous look on her face, the last time had surprised her the most.
And he half wished Stavros Nikolides were still alive, so he could witness this moment. So Alexios could bodily drag him in here to see his precious daughter naked and supremely satisfied in the bed of his nemesis, the son of the man he had so badly wronged.
For that would surely kill him all over again.
Moonlight on the blackened caldera waters winked back at him, telling him his logic was flawed. Because if Stavros had been alive, he would have enacted his original plan, and Athena would never have been in his bed, and that would have been a travesty. Revenge this way was so much more satisfying.
There was more than one way for a father to pay, and make him pay he would.
The sins of the father...
He would make Stavros pay dearly.
He curled his hand into a fist, all the injustice he’d felt congealing into concrete within, and thumped it hard against the wall.
She stirred behind him. ‘Alexios?’ Her voice was husky with sleep. Surprisingly sexy. As she herself had been throughout the night whenever he had reached for her. ‘What are you doing? Can’t you sleep?’
‘I was thinking,’ he said.
‘About what?’
He flexed his fingers. ‘Tomorrow,’ he lied. ‘I was thinking about what we should do tomorrow.’
‘But... Don’t you have business to attend to?’
‘It can wait.’ He paused, arching an eyebrow. ‘Unless you don’t want to see me again? Are you going to fly away again, mikro peristeri?’
She kept him waiting, her teeth troubling her bottom lip, as if weighing it up. Before she said, ‘Not if you don’t want me to.’
And he smiled as he collected her in his arms and tumbled her back down onto the pillows. ‘Perfect.’
* * *
The sails had filled out in the warm breeze, the boat propelled across the bottomless waters of the caldera until they were far away from the newly arrived cruise ships and the well-worn tourist trails. Athena lay on the deck alongside Alexios, content to lie on her back and soak up the sun after a swim in the bottomless waters of the caldera.
From here the walls of the islands rose steeply around them, seemingly insurmountable, the jagged path up the cliff from the port seeming to defy the laws of nature and science. It was different to see the ring of islands that made up the crater’s edges from this aspect, the layers of pumice and ash that had spewed more than three thousand years ago from the erupting volcano so clearly visible in the distinctly coloured bands in the cliffs surrounding them.
‘What are you staring at?’ he asked beside her, rolled onto his side and following her gaze.
She nodded towards the soaring cliffs, thinking of the force of the eruption that had all but resulted in the destruction of the island as it then existed, all but obliterating the civilisation that had once called it home. ‘Sorry. I just never cease to be awed by this place. It’s hard to believe we’re sitting in the middle of a live volcano.’
Especially when the sun turned the surface of the sea to diamonds and the water lapped gently at the sides of the boat. Right now an eruption seemed impossible. Incomprehensible. But there was the evidence, all around them.
‘It must have been terrifying when it erupted,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine what it was like being here.’
‘Most people were long gone,’ she said, sitting up. ‘There were earthquakes, bad ones, over many years. Some people stayed, but many abandoned their homes here and took their families in their ships and fled to Anatolia and to Crete. The lucky ones went early and much further afield.’
‘Why lucky?’
‘Because it wasn’t a simple eruption. That would have been bad enough, but when the sea water rushed into the empty lava chamber, it triggered a tidal wave that travelled for hundreds of miles. The northern coast of Crete, with the fleets of the Minoan traders, they were all destroyed. It wasn’t just Santorini, or Thera, as it was known then, that was destroyed. A dark ash cloud encircled the earth, blotting out the sun and wiping out the crops for many years. Even escape to somewhere like Crete proved no escape, just a deferral of the end. It signalled the end of the Minoan civilisation.’
He sat up alongside her, a frown tugging his dark brows together.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘In real life I’m an archaeologist and the Minoan civilisation, in particular, is a passion of mine. I studied it at university and I tend to get a bit carried away about it.’
He curled his hand around hers, lifted it to his lips. ‘You don’t have to be sorry for being passionate. I was never good at history. I was never a good student. Tell me more.’
She smiled, warming to her topic. ‘You know some believe the legend of Atlantis started right here, more than three thousand years ago. A fabulously wealthy and cultured civilisation, drowned under the sea and lost for ever.’
He propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Do you believe that?’
‘I do. It accords with the ancient Egyptian records, and the writings of Plato. The Egyptians traded with the Minoans until their world was suddenly blotted out, and why would that have happened unless some terrible fate had overcome them? Besides,’ she added with a smile, ‘it makes much more sense than the theory about some mythical island somewhere in the Atlantic that disappeared without trace or explanation, don’t you think? Whereas a beautiful island, an advanced civilisation, as good as wiped from the face of the earth—what better candidate than the Minoan civilisation right here in the centre of the then known world?’
He was staring at her face, his dark eyes lit with pleasure and the flames of something much hotter.
‘Do you have any idea how animated you look when you talk like this? Your whole face is alight, even the flecks in your eyes sparkle like golden chips in the light.’
She looked down, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I warned you. I get a bit carried away.’
His fingers took hold of her chin, turning it back towards him. ‘No, don’t be embarrassed about being passionate. You make your passion contagious. In fact, I think I know exactly how that volcano felt before it blew.’
And he drew her chin closer at the same time he dipped his head and his mouth met hers.
Something fluttered in her heart as she gave her mouth to his. Something small and indefinable, but like the brush of butterfly wings against her eyelashes. Something insignificant and yet of such import that it seemed her whole world had subtly shifted in a way that had nothing to do with the currents beneath their vessel.
His lips toyed with hers, gentling, caressing, warm breath intermingled, overlaced with the salty scent of the sea, before, slowly, he pulled gently away.
‘Happy?’ he asked, smiling down at her.
And Athena blinked as she looked into his beautiful face. Not because of his question, but because of the answer bubbling up inside her. Because she was happy, honestly truly happy for the first time in what seemed for ever. Because she felt as if she was truly alive. ‘I am.’
‘You sound surprised.’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe just a little.’ She gave a blissful sigh. It was the island, she told herself, for Santorini had once again proved to be her refuge and her saviour. There was a reason she loved this place.
His hand took hers and she felt that zing of excitement, that thrill of connection, she felt every time he touched her, before he lifted it to his lips, and turned it and kissed her palm, his hot tongue stroking it, his dark eyes filled with the promise of dark deeds, sending a delicious thrill coursing through her.
‘I like your bikini,’ he said, his eyes scanning the length of her body without his head shifting, his voice low and thick and vibrating with so much desire it was impossible not to feel aroused. ‘I’m going to enjoy peeling it off.’
Her nipples peaked and hardened as his eyes lingered at her breasts even while his fingers toyed with the tie at her hips, the electric touch of his fingertips setting sparks beneath her skin while his lips came down to meet hers, their heat enough to melt any thought of resistance away. The white bikini had been an impulse decision when he’d suggested sailing today and she’d told him she hadn’t brought a swimsuit. A good one as it turned out. He’d taken her to a boutique and she’d been rifling through the racks of one-pieces when he’d offered her a clutch of bikinis. She’d almost said no outright—she hadn’t worn a two-piece since she’d been that cocksure teen A-lister baring almost everything she had to bare on the Amalfi Coast—but something in his eyes had made her reconsider and agree to try them on.
And that very first one, the white one—she’d seen the heat and hunger as his eyes had roamed her exposed flesh, a hunger that had made her insides tremble with the promise of the forbidden. Not some spoilt son of a newspaper tycoon or shipping magnate looking at her with an overactive libido and clumsy technique, but a man, looking at a woman, and wanting her.
As he wanted her now.
He broke away from the kiss, the curled hairs of his sun-warmed chest kissing her bare skin as it rose and fell with his ragged breathing. ‘We should take this downstairs,’ he said, his heated breath on her face, like an invitation. And in the flutter of her answering heart, she knew it wasn’t just the island that made her so happy. It was this man beside her and the way he made her feel. As if she was special.
As if she deserved to be happy.
And after the despair of the last few weeks, of the shock of learning her estranged father had died, and the remorse she felt for a relationship gone badly wrong, and then the guilt on learning he’d forgiven her without ever letting her know, this man made her feel things might have changed, that her life was on the up.
She went willingly as he tugged her to her feet. Went willingly down through the hatch to the freshly made bed in the spacious cabin lined with glossy timbers with brass fittings. And here he finished what he’d started, tugging at the tie between her breasts, brushing the thin straps over her shoulders and letting her bikini top fall to the floor, before his hands moved to her thighs, untying the bows at her sides until that scrap of material similarly fell to the floor.
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Trish Morey
His vengeful seduction……will bind them together—forever!Athena Nikolides is wary of being exploited for her newly-inherited fortune. But charismatic Alexios Kyriakos is already a billionaire, and with their overwhelmingly intense desire, Athena feels safe with him. So she’s devastated to learn Alexios only wants her to avenge himself against her father! But when the consequence of their undeniable passion is revealed, now he wants her for so much more…
His vengeful seduction...
...will bind them together—forever!
Athena Nikolides is wary of being exploited for her newly inherited fortune. But charismatic Alexios Kyriakos is already a billionaire, and with their overwhelmingly intense desire, Athena feels safe with him. So she’s devastated to learn Alexios only wants her to avenge himself against her father! But when the consequence of their undeniable passion is revealed, now he wants her for so much more...
Feel the tension in this dramatic pregnancy romance!
USA TODAY bestselling author TRISH MOREY just loves happy endings. Now that her four daughters are (mostly) grown and off her hands, having left the nest, Trish is rapidly working out that a real happy ending is when you downsize, end up alone with the guy you married and realise you still love him. There’s a happy-ever-after right there. Or a happy new beginning! Trish loves to hear from her readers—you can email her at trish@trishmorey.com (http://www.trish@trishmorey.com).
Also by Trish Morey (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
A Price Worth Paying?
Bartering Her Innocence
The Heir from Nowhere
His Prisoner in Paradise
His Mistress for a Million
Desert Brothers miniseries
Duty and the Beast
The Sheikh’s Last Gamble
Captive of Kadar
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Consequence of the Greek’s Revenge
Trish Morey
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07264-9
CONSEQUENCE OF THE GREEK’S REVENGE
© 2018 Trish Morey
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Thank you, dear reader.
It’s good to be back.
Contents
Cover (#u8dd65b0b-b717-5f91-b8a1-d4c02b936fe1)
Back Cover Text (#ud1d8f70f-7200-5976-a5b6-f2c21f474435)
About the Author (#u6514f973-558b-548e-b235-72660454db55)
Booklist (#uc74f98d1-98b6-5e3b-a229-cc940921c6a3)
Title Page (#u93926451-a310-5f8b-96dc-3f498aaced26)
Copyright (#uf34157b1-a343-54ed-af7b-a94f329a0490)
Dedication (#ufd681717-c53f-5e8a-881c-0bca521311e7)
CHAPTER ONE (#ucfd78cc2-f293-59d4-8533-8b0adc4b2ebd)
CHAPTER TWO (#u870ae8a5-ed60-5567-a9a5-b90c025958ee)
CHAPTER THREE (#u608e4cfe-deaa-5a80-a7c1-2737f1f5da89)
CHAPTER FOUR (#uc03d05e6-f51a-55d4-867a-3a4307e1ba5c)
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)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
STAVROS NIKOLIDES WAS DEAD.
Alexios Kyriakos balled his hands into fists as he read the online news report. The man his father had looked up to and trusted like no other, the man who had subsequently betrayed him and left him broken and shattered, had suffered a massive heart attack while partying on his yacht, his life snuffed out between a magnum of champagne and his bikini-clad mistress.
Dead.
It should be enough.
He stood, unable to digest the news sitting down, the muscles in his long legs itching for action, and carrying him to the wall of glass that looked out across the city of Athens to the Acropolis where the ruins of the Parthenon baked under a relentlessly hot Greek sun.
The gods had exacted their revenge.
It should be enough.
Except that it wasn’t.
Instead Alexios felt cheated. Denied the opportunity to yank Stavros’s diamond-encrusted life out from beneath him. Denied the opportunity to balance the scales on his own terms, when vengeance had been so damned close he could taste it.
Where was the revenge he’d promised his father on his deathbed? Where was the levelling of the score he’d worked towards these last ten years? He’d never once begged the gods to solve his problems. He’d stood on his own two feet and looked after himself from day one. Why now had they intervened and stolen the vengeance he had worked so hard for?
He stared up at the mount, teeming with sweltering tourists, as if the answer lay there, amidst the ruins of the Parthenon and the Temple of Athena Nike. And a switch flicked in his head.
Athena.
He strode back to the desk, scrolling down the report, pausing when he came to the two photographs. One grainy file shot of her in a string bikini draped on a yacht anchored off the Amalfi Coast, the other of her wearing dark glasses and a pinched expression as she pushed past the cameras and microphones jostling for a picture and a reaction outside the hospital morgue where her father’s body had been taken.
Athena Nikolides. Twenty-seven-year-old product of Stavros’s short-lived marriage to an Australian model turned actress, and now no doubt heiress to a fortune—a fortune her father had stolen from anyone and everyone he could steal from.
Athena Nikolides.
With her mother’s stunning looks and her father’s ill-gotten fortune.
There was his revenge.
CHAPTER TWO (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
ATHENA SAT NUMBLY in a café in Thera, barely registering the coffee she’d ordered set before her, let alone the sprawling sea-filled caldera of Santorini far below or the way its surface sparkled like jewels under a September sun that still packed a punch.
It was the three cruise ships that lay anchored that held her gaze, or, rather, their tenders, busy like bees ferrying passengers back to their vessels after a day riding donkeys up the steep steps and wandering the cobbled steps of the towns clinging to the cliff’s edge. Idly she watched the tiny boats come and go, their movements vaguely therapeutic.
She took a long breath of the clean salt air, and let it out slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders and neck dissipate with the steady rhythm of their to-ing and fro-ing, easing the dull ache in her head she’d had ever since leaving the sterile steel and concrete offices of her father’s lawyers in Athens.
It was the shock, she knew. The shock, and the strain of trying to follow a legal conversation delivered in rapid-fire Greek, that had made her head spin. Her conversational skills might have been enough to get her through her university studies, but they were no match for the full-on onslaught of legalese she’d had to interpret, and the certainty that she must have got it wrong.
It wasn’t until she’d held up one hand and appealed to them that she didn’t understand, that nothing made sense, that one of them had taken pity on her, and uttered the words in English. ‘It’s quite simple, Athena, your father left it all to you. Everything he owned. Every last euro.’
And even delivered in English, that had made the least sense of all.
She shook her head, just as she’d shaken her head then, still battling to come to terms with a morning that defied logic and had left her reeling.
She’d entered the offices confused about why she’d even been summoned, only to exit it one hour later baffled, because suddenly she was one of the richest women in Greece. The estranged father who’d disinherited her when she was in her teens had left it all to her, his fortune, a home in Athens, a super-yacht complete with helicopter, and then the jewel in the crown, the Aegean island of Argos.
Every last bit of his fortune left to her.
And she’d had no idea.
She tossed back her coffee as a string of donkeys led by a man with a leathered face clip-clopped lethargically by, the animals worn out from ferrying cruise-ship passengers up and down the cobbled path to the crater’s edge. It was impossible not to feel for the creatures, but there was good reason Santorini attracted so many visitors. The stark beauty of the ring of islands and its seemingly bottomless blue crater, the dark looming cliffs of ancient volcanic ash with their white buildings around the crater’s rim like icing on a cake. Along with the famous sunsets.
Athena loved it for all those reasons and more, for its rich ancient history and for the elemental power of the weather, the wind so wild at times, it threatened to hurl you from the crater’s edge. As she felt now. Tossed by the winds of fortune.
She’d been so right to come.
She felt real here. Humbled.
Besides, where else would she go?
Back to Melbourne where she’d grown up after her parents had divorced, where all her school friends were, or to the tiny dot of a village from where her father had come, that she remembered only one time visiting as a child? She could go to either, but she would be known. Friends in Melbourne. Family in the village to welcome their long-lost relative. Her aunts and uncles and cousins many times removed. There would be hugs and tears and concern for how she was coping, and that would be lovely, but there would be no room to think.
And after this morning’s revelations, more than ever, she needed to think.
Whereas she could breathe here, on this magical island in the midst of the Aegean. She could think. And right now she desperately needed to do both.
‘May I?’
It was the voice that compelled her to look up, rather than just wave her agreement to share her table as she usually would, the voice that punctuated the hubbub of the chatter around her. Rich and thick, like the grounds in the bottom of her tiny coffee cup, and so deep she could almost feel its vibrations. A voice that suited him, she discovered a moment later. Immaculate was the word that sprang first into her mind. Tall and dark, with chiselled jaw and thick dark hair closely swept back at the sides, longer and sculpted in waves at the top.
But it was his eyes that hers had to return to for a second look. Dark and long-lashed, they held too much to be the eyes of someone simply looking for a place to sip their coffee, and an electric jolt zapped down her spine.
His lips turned up into a smile and her brain kicked back in.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’
He curled his long frame onto the stool alongside her, the outside of his leg brushing hers, a kiss of sudden heat that made her jump. She pulled her legs away, took a calming breath.
‘You like your coffee strong.’
It wasn’t a question.
She nodded without looking up, her fingers cradling the tiny cup. ‘It helps me think.’
‘Thinking is good,’ he said, taking a sip of his own coffee before adding, ‘But you also need to find something that makes you smile.’
She looked across at him quizzically. ‘Excuse me, but do I know you?’
‘Do I need to know you to know you look sad? Pensive? Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?’
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t believe anyone was talking to her this way, let alone a stranger.
‘No,’ he said into the silence between them, swirling his own coffee in his big hand. Long tapered fingers, she noticed, dusted with tiny dark hairs and finished with neatly trimmed nails. ‘We’ve never met,’ he said, without taking his dark eyes from hers. ‘There is no way I would have forgotten, if we had.’
His eyes and words combined so it felt like a velvet glove stroking its way down her spine, and it was so long since she’d felt anything close to a spark of attraction, an eternity it seemed, that she could almost forgive him for initiating a conversation no stranger had a right to.
And for all she knew there should be no reason to stay and talk, her coffee finished, for some reason she was tempted to linger, and experience these foreign feelings just that bit longer.
‘My name is Alexios,’ he offered, and she knew he was in no rush to go anywhere in a hurry either.
‘Athena,’ she said.
‘Ah. Goddess of wisdom and craft.’
She smiled. ‘Not to mention goddess of war.’
He conceded her point with a tilt of his head, his dark hair glossy under the sun’s light. ‘True enough, yet possessing a calm temperament and moving slowly to anger, and then only to fight for just causes.’
‘You know your ancient Greek mythology,’ she said, impressed.
He shrugged. ‘I am Greek,’ he said, confirming what she’d suspected, even though they’d been speaking in English. ‘It would be ignorant of me to be unaware of my heritage.’
‘And so, Alexios—’ She thought for a moment. ‘That would make you a defender of mankind, am I right?’
He smiled, and again she was taken aback by how good-looking he was when he smiled, his lips framed by his shadowed face, darker in the cleft of his jaw, while the unbuttoned neck of his shirt shifted softly in the breeze, drawing her eyes further south, the stark white linen contrasting with the slice of olive skin of his throat and chest.
‘The goddess of war and the defender of mankind,’ he said. ‘The world would be a safer place in our joint hands, don’t you think?’
And suddenly she realised she’d been staring at him and she looked hastily away, knowing he was flirting with her, and finding herself enjoying it, even if she wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t do flirting. It felt like for ever since she’d felt carefree enough and interested enough to make a first move, let alone a second. ‘I don’t know about that.’
A couple squeezed past then, an American and his wife, fresh from a cruise ship and full of excited chatter at the view, and she took advantage of the distraction to shift her chair and turn her attention out over the caldera again, feigning interest in the sideways sway of the cruise ships at anchor, and the steady movement of tenders to and fro. She was nothing more than a temporary diversion in her visitor’s day. He’d soon finish his coffee and move on.
‘I have a problem,’ he said, refusing to cooperate with her expectations. ‘Maybe the woman named for the goddess of wisdom could help me.’
She looked back at him, setting her eyes to narrow, suddenly suspicious. ‘I don’t see how.’
‘You see, soon the sun will set on the most romantic island in the world, and I am eating alone.’
‘And what does that have to do with me?’
‘You could help me, very much, if you would agree to dine with me.’
She sighed, taking one last look over the sparkling waters of the caldera, feeling disappointed now. Conversation with a stranger who made her skin tingle over a shared table was one thing, dinner was another. She’d heard stories about the men who preyed on lonely women promising them all kinds of romance, and attraction was just the kind of thing that would tempt a woman to let down her guard.
And after this morning’s stunning revelations, she had more reason than ever to be wary. He couldn’t know. Nobody outside that office could possibly know, but she’d been warned to be careful, given her inheritance, and that just meant being more careful than ever.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not looking for a gigolo. Maybe you should advertise your...’ she allowed her eyes to roam purposefully over the olive-skinned vee of his chest ‘...problem, somewhere else.’
He leaned back in his chair and laughed, his shirt pulled taut over a sculpted chest so she could see the dark circles and the hard nubs of his nipples, and she could almost smell the testosterone rolling off him in waves. ‘Nobody has ever called me a gigolo before.’
She forced her eyes back to his. He was attractive. Sexy. What of it? ‘No? You don’t make a habit of picking up sad-and-lonely-looking women in bars here on Santorini?’
‘Only the very beautiful ones.’
It was her turn to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It was a ridiculous conversation and the man was outrageous, but at the same time he was like a breath of fresh air in her out-of-kilter world. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed.
He was smiling now himself. ‘You see? You should laugh more. You are even more beautiful when you laugh.’
She could say the same about him. His smile lines complemented without weakening the hard angles of his jaw, the harsh line of his mouth had softened, his lips turned up. Warmer.
And his eyes—his eyes looked at her as if he knew her. It was disconcerting. She blinked that thought away. Nobody knew who she was. Nobody knew she was here. She’d left the lawyer’s offices and headed straight to her apartment to pack a carry bag, booking a flight in the taxi on the way to the airport.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s it to be? Dinner with me or a night alone and morose and a lifetime spent regretting it?’
‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
‘I’m very sure of the fact I want to have dinner with you. I want to get to know you better.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have a feeling I’m going to like what I discover. Very much.’
She shook her head. It was ridiculous to feel half tempted. She didn’t do blind dates. She didn’t let herself get picked up in cafés. She didn’t let herself get picked up, period. And that little voice in her head asking her why not just this one time could just get back in its box and shut up, especially given the lawyers’ warnings.
Except the voice in her head was conspiring with Alexios’s pleading dark chocolate eyes to resist arrest. Why shouldn’t she have dinner with this man? it argued. What was wrong with feeling attracted to him and actually acting on it? Nobody knew who she was, and even if people had seen photos of her in the press, she was no household name. People might think she looked familiar, but she hadn’t been interesting or scandalous enough to become common paparazzi fodder—not for a long time.
After the undisciplined years of her late teens, she’d made sure of that. She’d been cautious. Responsible. Determined to keep out of the public eye as much as possible. Which meant not taking unnecessary risks, however good-looking those risks might be.
‘No,’ she said finally, common sense winning over recklessness, not letting him argue further when he raised one hand as if to protest. ‘I’m afraid not. Thanks for the conversation. It’s been...’
‘Tempting?’
‘Interesting.’ Although she knew his word was far closer to the truth.
Someone brushed quickly behind her before moving away—a waiter gathering cups and plates, she presumed—so she had to wait a few moments until she could push her chair back. ‘It’s been lovely chatting. Have a pleasant evening.’ And then she reached beside her to where she’d left her bags. Except there was only one there. She blinked, checking on the floor under and around the chair.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘My handbag,’ she said. ‘It’s gone.’ She scanned the café, saw a man scooting between the tables towards the exit, the white strap of her shoulder bag trailing under the crook of his arm, and felt the sickening realisation that it hadn’t been a waiter or even a customer brushing past behind her, but a thief. He glimpsed back over his shoulder as if checking he’d made a clean getaway, guilt written all over his profile, and she was on her feet, pointing. ‘Stop!’ she cried, before appealing to the startled restaurant patrons, ‘That man’s stolen my bag. Someone stop him!’
‘Wait here,’ said Alexios, with a comforting hand to her shoulder and already off in pursuit, heads of patrons turning as he cut a swathe through the tables.
The waiter stood back for Alexios before he wove his way across to her, full of apologies and consolation. ‘Let me get you another coffee,’ he offered.
‘Not coffee,’ she said, not needing it. Her heart was already beating wildly in her chest. It needed no more stimulation. Her passport and her purse were in that bag. The thief had a head start on Alexios. If he disappeared amidst the alleyways of Thera and if she lost it...
The waiter nodded, only to return with sparkling water instead, and a tiny ouzo, ‘To calm your nerves’, while an American woman at the next table leaned over to pat her on the arm, tut-tutting about thieves who preyed on tourists, and hoping that Athena’s husband would get her handbag back.
She didn’t have the heart to tell the woman the truth, that they had never met before today. Because the second Alexios had disappeared, another unpalatable possibility had already wiggled its way into her consciousness, that her would-be rescuer and thief had been working together, one to distract her with compliments and meaningless conversation, while the other worked out the best time to strike. She’d assumed he was some kind of gigolo when all the time he was more likely some kind of common thief.
A devastatingly handsome, charming thief.
More fool her.
The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, all the smooth-talking compliments he’d given coming back to haunt her, mocking her. He’d called her beautiful and she’d been charmed stupid because of it. And suddenly she couldn’t sit there any more. Why was she waiting for a stranger to return with her purse? She should be going to the police.
The waiter waved aside the bill when she promised to return, when there was a commotion at the door, followed by applause and cheers, and there, standing in the doorway, was Alexios, breathing hard and holding her bag.
Relief surged like a wave over her. Never had she seen a more welcome sight. ‘You caught him?’
‘I did,’ he said, handing her the bag. ‘The boy won’t be bothering anyone around here again.’
More cheers rose from the patrons and Alexios was hailed a hero while Athena opened her bag to check her passport and purse were still there. ‘I was just about to go to the police. Should we report it anyway, in case he tries again?’
‘He didn’t have time to open it, let alone steal anything,’ Alexios assured her. ‘And after the talking-to I gave him, I’m sure he won’t be trying that again any time soon.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, peeling off some bills to pay for their coffees. ‘My passport and my credit cards are in here. I don’t know how to repay you.’
He smiled. ‘That’s hardly necessary. Though, if you insist, my invitation still stands to come to dine with me, if you care to change your mind?’
Her eyelids closed on a slow blink. The man had just rescued her handbag and she felt a flush of guilt for thinking Alexios might be working alongside the thief. And after he had proven himself trustworthy by catching up with the thief who had stolen her bag, it would be churlish to refuse dinner with him now, surely?
Besides, just for once it was nice to be able to give into temptation and not feel guilty about it. What possible harm could it do?
Her smile told him all he needed to know. He was already smiling himself before she uttered the words, ‘It would be my pleasure. Of course I’ll have dinner with you.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
HE HAD HER.
He’d never doubted it would work, of course. He’d expected her to refuse his advances, but he’d been prepared for that. What better way to secure her agreement than to make her believe she owed him? It had all gone off with domino simplicity, and now the blood in his veins pumped with new purpose, his plan unfolding as he led her through the winding paths and towards the table for two he’d prearranged that would give the best view of the sunset.
‘Santorini is my favourite Greek island,’ he said, as they strolled together through the labyrinthine paths. There was no need to rush. Sunset was still some time away, despite the jockeying already going on for positions. ‘Perhaps my favourite place in the world.’
‘Mine too,’ she said.
‘Is that so? Then we have something in common. This is a good place to start, don’t you think?’
She smiled in a way that told him she was amused rather than impressed. ‘I’m sure it’s a favourite for many people in the world.’
‘True,’ he conceded, knowing he still had work to do. She’d agreed to dinner but she was still wavering, he could see, still cautious. But she’d come around. It wasn’t as if it were a chore to charm her. He’d been speaking the truth to her over coffee. When she smiled, her face came alight, her surprisingly blue eyes dancing, and the most surprising discovery of all—dimples in her cheeks either side of her lush mouth, that turned classically beautiful into bewitching.
And then there was the way she moved. Wearing a cute nineteen-fifties-inspired sundress, with wide shoulders and full skirt all cinched in at the waist to accentuate the slim form that lay beneath, she moved with model grace, the sway of her hips sending the skirt of her dress in a seductive motion that had him already itching to peel it off.
No, it would be no hardship bedding her. No hardship at all. And before she knew it, she’d be so busy luxuriating in the glow of the loved, he’d relieve her of her fortune without her even noticing.
And by the time she did, revenge would be his.
It was perfect.
The sun was slipping lower in the sky, couples and groups of tourists already staking their claim for what they thought the best vantage point from which to witness the sun dipping into the sea in all its molten glory.
He made small talk as they wended their way through the town, keeping it light, making way when another train of tired donkeys lumbered home past them, their brightly coloured tassels swaying on their foreheads.
‘Here we are,’ he said, stopping at a locked gate on the caldera side of the path. He punched in a number and pushed it open, making way for her.
He saw the surprise on her face when she registered that they were outside a palace, a remnant of the Venetian occupation of Santorini in centuries long past. ‘I thought we were going to a restaurant. But this...’
‘Is a very private restaurant.’
She turned to him, her blue eyes confused. ‘But this is a home. A palace.’
‘With the best views in Thera. I’m staying here.’
‘Staying here? Like a guest?’
He answered with a welcoming sweep of his arm. ‘Come inside, I’ll show you the view from the terrace.’
She stayed exactly where she was, half inside the gate and half outside, her head tilted to the side. ‘Who are you?’
‘I told you. My name is Alexios. Alexios Kyriakos.’ He looked at the still-open gate behind her. ‘The gate isn’t locked from the inside, but I can always leave the gate open, if you prefer, if you think you might need to escape.’ He paused for one heavily weighted second. ‘If you don’t trust me, that is.’
He swore she almost blushed at his mention of trust. Of course, she trusted him now. She shook her head, looking contrite, pushing the loose tendrils of her hair back behind her ears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge today, especially after what happened at the café. There’s no need to leave it open, of course.’ And she moved out of the way so he could shut the gate.
He didn’t show her inside. Instead he ushered her along a path that wove around the side of the building that opened onto an expansive terrace with a breathtaking view of the islands that made up the broken circle of the caldera, formed in the massive eruption of the volcano beneath thousands of years before. Below them, the almost sheer wall of layered volcanic residue fell away so it felt as if they were suspended over the very edge of the crater. And there, in the gap between the islands, hovered the setting sun, dipping inexorably on its journey towards the sea.
She leaned her hands down on the balustrade, turning her face into the breeze that rushed up the sides of the cliffs, and breathing in the fresh salt air. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He hung back, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t crowd her. He didn’t hover by her side. He wanted her to feel secure. Safe. It was his pleasure now to watch her. And wait for the right moment.
She turned towards him, the setting sun picking up the golden flecks in her blue eyes, turning them to jewels. Oh, he could wait for the right moment, just so long as he didn’t have to wait too long.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘while we wait for the sun to perform its magic, perhaps you would like to eat.’ He waved his arm behind, where the doors of the palace had been flung open, to reveal a table set for two dressed in white.
Her brows drew together as she took in the scene. ‘How is this possible when we only met this afternoon?’
He smiled, loving her suspicious mind. If only she knew. ‘The staff were expecting me for dinner,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I simply called from the café after you agreed to dine with me to ensure there would be enough for two.’
She wandered closer to the table, set with crystal glasses and silverware and tiny vases filled with fresh thyme and rosemary, the scent wafting on the warm breeze like the sheer curtains billowing behind the doorways.
‘You understand now why I had no desire to keep this all to myself?’
She nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’
‘Then please sit, and eat, and afterwards we shall enjoy the sunset together.’
As if on cue, the serving staff appeared, delivering warm breads and freshly made dips to the table, followed by pan-fried saganaki cheese topped with balsamic figs along with the freshest baby squid, an array of grilled meats and all washed down with the finest Santorini Vinsanto wine.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, at one point, leaning back in her chair, her glass of wine in her hand.
He raised his own glass to her. ‘It is my pleasure.’
‘Tell me,’ she asked, leaning forward after taking a sip of wine, ‘why is it that you are here, all alone on Santorini?’
‘I am here primarily for business.’
She arched an eyebrow at that, an obvious question. ‘Not,’ he added, ‘that I have a wife or girlfriend I could have brought to accompany me.’
‘And why is that?’ she asked, gesturing glass in hand to the palace behind and the spectacular caldera view before them. ‘When clearly you are a man of means—and, as you are no doubt aware, not entirely unpleasant looks.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘“Not entirely unpleasant”? That is good news, indeed. But as to your question, I’m afraid I’ve been too much of a workaholic. Driven, some might say.’
Especially when it came to the pursuit of justice.
‘Although not too driven to chat me up.’
He shrugged. ‘Lately I have become aware of how isolated I have become. Meeting you cemented an appreciation of the error of my ways.’
‘Wow,’ she said, her blue eyes bright. ‘That’s a heady responsibility you’re piling upon my shoulders. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed.’
He smiled. ‘Now you’re laughing at me.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m just not used to flirting.’
‘Neither am I,’ he said with a smile. ‘Although I am finding it an entirely pleasurable pastime. If I might be so bold as to ask, why are you here alone?’
‘Like I said, Santorini is my favourite Greek island. I like to come here to think.’
‘Do you have so much to think about?’
‘Who doesn’t?’ she said with a shrug, not giving anything away. ‘What kind of business are you in?’
He smiled at her quick volley, but didn’t push it. He’d learned in his dealings with people that the way to make them open up was to pretend indifference, to let them set the agenda. He knew that sooner or later she’d wander back into the topic of her own accord. ‘Shipping mainly. Cargo and containers, timetables and paperwork. It’s boring.’
‘I’m sure it’s not,’ she said. ‘Is it a family business?’
‘No. I have no family.’
‘What, none at all?’
He gave the briefest shake of his head, feeling a familiar rising tide of bitterness, thinking how different things might have been—should have been—if not for the greed and the actions of this woman’s father. He swallowed back on the surge. He didn’t need a tidal wave. All he needed now were ripples—a reminder—of why he was here, and why doing this was so right. ‘There’s nobody,’ he said. ‘Not now.’
‘Oh,’ she said, her teeth finding her lip while she blinked too fast. ‘It seems we have more than one thing in common. My mother died when I was sixteen. I—I lost my own father a month ago.’
He schooled his features to compassion, even as he smiled inwardly. She might have a sad story, but it was no match for a story of betrayal. ‘Is that what you’re here on Santorini to think about?’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, her misty eyes clouding over as she looked away, out towards the sun, now sending a golden-red ribbon of colour across the water. ‘Look,’ she said, standing. ‘The sun is setting.’
He followed her to the balustrade, to where they could see the white buildings that adorned the caldera rim now washed in red, the sun a fat golden orb bending the painted layers of the sky beneath.
‘So beautiful,’ she said, her eyes fixed on the spectacular display.
She was, he thought, watching her rather than the sunset, and soon she would be his. The knowledge made him burn. The perfect revenge and the only disappointment was that Stavros wasn’t here to see it. But then, it would be a much more extensive—and satisfying—revenge than he’d had planned.
‘Look,’ he said, putting mere fingertips to the fabric at the small of her back while he pointed out to the midst of the darkening sea, where a sailing boat bobbed in a ribbon of golden light.
‘Oh,’ she said, and he knew it was because he’d touched her, because he’d felt her shuddering response, and knew she was ripe for the taking.
Oh, yes, he would play this cherished daughter of his nemesis like a fish on a hook. Play her, use her, and then he would break her, just as her father had broken his father.
And then he would walk away.
* * *
To Athena, it seemed the sunset was being performed for her and Alexios and for them alone. There was nobody else within earshot, no evidence of other human life beyond a solitary sailing boat far below them on the sea, while the colours around her intensified, the range narrowed to red and gold and every brilliant shade in between.
And then suddenly his hand was gone from the small of her back, and despite the spectacular glory going on around her it was that tiny touch she missed. Missed his warmth but most of all the spark he’d triggered in her flesh. And now the sun was setting, burning brighter, until it kissed the water and, despite knowing better, Athena held her breath in anticipation of the hiss of steam at the union.
But even the sunset could not make her forget Alexios was still here, close beside her. Never had she been more aware of a man’s presence in her life. He was right there at her shoulder. So close she could once again smell the lemon tang of his soap. So close she could feel his body’s warmth on her bare arm.
So close.
And yet he didn’t make a move towards her.
Slowly, inexorably, the sea embraced the sun, and with every passing second Athena wished he would touch her again, even if only to point out something else.
Though more than that, she wished, leaning closer, her bare arm brushing his, setting her skin alight, that he would kiss her. In this perfect moment with the perfect excuse of the most romantic sunset in the world as a backdrop.
Why did he not try to touch her?
Why didn’t he kiss her?
But while the air all but crackled between them, even while her body swayed of its own accord towards his, frustratingly he moved no closer to her. Still, he made no move at all.
By the time the sea swallowed the sun whole and the last glimmer of light was extinguished, her strung-out nerves were at breaking point for fruitless, pointless, wishing.
She reached for and clung to the balustrade with both hands, disappointment weighing heavy in her sigh.
‘Amazing,’ he said beside her, and his deep voice rippled into the fabric of her soul. She felt silly now that the rush of disappointment was over. All this time she’d been wary and suspicious and all the time he really had only wanted to share a meal and a sunset with someone.
She put her unfamiliar libido back in the dusty box where it had come from. She had no right to be disappointed. She hadn’t wanted anything to happen really. It was the sunset and the colour and the heart-stopping beauty of an island the gods had blessed with unimaginable riches to compensate for locating it over an active volcano.
‘That was spectacular,’ she said, turning her back to the balustrade now the show was over. ‘Thank you for sharing it with me, and for a wonderful dinner. I should probably be heading off now.’
‘You don’t want to stay for coffee?’
She shook her head. She felt foolish now. Carried away by the romance of the island. Reading too much into a simple invitation. If it was any lighter here on the balcony, he would surely see her face glowing red.
She crossed back towards the table where she’d left her bag, searching for a lightness she didn’t feel. ‘I have a confession to make.’
‘You do?’
‘I actually thought—I mean—just for a while there, when you took off chasing the thief, well, I’m sorry to admit that I half wondered if you hadn’t been working together, and that I’d never see you, or my bag, again.’
He shook his head, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. ‘You honestly believed me capable of behaving in such a despicable manner?’
She cast her eyes downwards. ‘I’m so sorry. I was strung out. I don’t know why else I would have thought such a thing.’
His dark eyes narrowed. His lips turned up on one side. ‘But then, you thought I was some kind of gigolo too.’
‘God, don’t remind me. I’m sorry about that too.’
He leaned an arm up onto the wall beside her and she was struck by the poetry in the slow but sure movement of his muscled limbs. ‘You thought I was going to seduce you.’
‘To be fair, I didn’t know what to think. I was alone and you were very charming. Are very charming. What was a woman on her own to think? But you’ve proved me wrong and I’ve had the most wonderful evening, thank you.’ She put out a hand to shake his.
He stared down at it, a crease tugging dark brows together. ‘Are you disappointed?’
‘What?’
‘That I didn’t try to seduce you?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t... I’m not sure...’
His eyes met hers, and in their dark depths she saw an insecurity and wavering that mirrored her own, an insecurity she would never have expected to see in this man’s, not when he otherwise appeared so confident and assured. An insecurity she instinctively wanted to smooth away and reassure.
‘Because you must know,’ he said, ‘I wanted to kiss you.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘You did?’
‘When the sun was setting before us and it was like we were part of it, rather than just watching, and I could see the look of wonder on your face—in that moment I ached to reach out a hand and touch you.’
‘You did?’ She tossed her head back, trying to inject no more than a casual interest in his revelation. Trying to sound as if they were discussing something academic. ‘Why didn’t you?’
‘Because I was afraid you might run. That it would confirm your worst thoughts about me. So I held back. Let me tell you, removing my hand from your back was one of the hardest things I have ever done.’ His dark eyes trained on hers. ‘Would you have run?’
Her bag suddenly felt heavy in her hands, her limbs felt boneless and it was all she could do to remember to breathe.
‘Would you?’
The air between them seemed to shimmer with expectation. This was no game they were playing. No innocent question and answer session. This felt dangerous.
Reckless.
Athena didn’t do reckless.
Not normally. But tonight was far from normal.
And this time that voice inside her head demanded to quash any resistance and to be heard, and this time, she was only too prepared to listen.
‘No.’ Her answer was a bare whisper, and yet more than a whisper. A confession.
He closed the distance between them and put the pads of his thumb to her cheek, the fingers of his other hand tracing the line of her lips. ‘You are more beautiful than any sunset I have ever witnessed. I have wanted you since the moment we first met.’
His warm breath, scented with the cognac they’d shared, caressed her skin, and like the waves upon the sea his words rippled into her soul. Her cheek leaned into his touch, her lips parting, seeking more, tasting him.
‘If you ask me to kiss you,’ he said, ‘there is no way I could refuse.’
Her heart skipped a beat. And she knew with a woman’s sense that this was bigger than any kiss. The heat pooling in her belly, the pulse beating at her very core told her this wouldn’t stop with a kiss. But he was giving her the choice—stop now or go on.
In the end, it was no choice at all. ‘So kiss me,’ she said.
And he made a sound, guttural and deep, a sound of triumph mixed with need that rumbled straight to her veins and turned her blood to bubbles as he pulled her close and his lips met hers. Warm lips. Surprisingly soft and yet firm. Engaged in a sensual dance with hers. Slow. Gentle. Teasing. Deeper. Repeat.
Her knees turned weak. She reached for him, needing an anchor to steady herself, finding a rock as her hands tangled in the folds of his shirt and found his hard body beneath. Her fingers embraced his sculpted torso and she heard a sound like a whimper and realised it had come from her.
But he was glorious. Muscled and hard beneath her seeking fingers. Thirsty fingers, drinking in the ridges of bone and tight bunches of muscle as his mouth made magic on hers. While his long-fingered hands scooped down the sides of her head, to her shoulders, leaving trails that felt like sparks under her skin and that scorched a path all the way down via peaking nipples, to where an aching heat pulsed between her thighs.
And even as she pressed her body closer to his, closer into his kiss, she knew this was all kinds of reckless, because she knew there was no way this was stopping with a mere kiss.
And she wanted it.
She wanted it all.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
SO MUCH MORE than a mere kiss! His scent, his taste and the feel of him combined into one powerful cocktail and she wanted more. She parted her lips and he accepted her invitation, his tongue tasting, testing, before engaging hers in a sensual dance of passion and need. She was already lost in sensation, blood fizzing in her veins, when she felt the brush of his thumb against one sensitive nipple, and she gasped into his mouth with the sheer electricity of it.
He growled, liking her response, his hands growing bolder, sweeping from her shoulders to the cheeks of her behind, squeezing, her muscles clenching and tightening in response as his fingertips ventured dangerously close to her cleft.
‘Theos,’ he said, wrenching his mouth from hers. ‘Stay, and make love with me, Athena.’
She answered him with her mouth and her body, pulling his head back to hers, pressing her full length against his body, her plumping breasts hard against his chest, her hips pushed against his. She encountered the evidence of his own arousal and felt a rush of heat hard on the heels of a bloom of delight.
For so long, it seemed, she’d felt numb. Too long. Ever since she’d heard the news of her father’s death and been sideswiped by the impact it had on her. By the knowledge that now she had lost both her mother and, even if their relationship had been difficult at times, or maybe because of it, her father.
She’d been operating in a vacuum ever since.
Numb. Emotionless.
But Alexios had awakened something deep inside her and it unfurled and blossomed like a flower that had been buried under a winter snow. It was so good to feel again.
And now, all she wanted to do was feel.
Her feet went from underneath her, as he swept her up into his arms, his lips still on hers. He turned and kicked open a door, before spinning around and kicking it shut behind them. She had an impression of space, of high ceiling and billowing curtains on windows opening to the caldera, before she felt softness at her back as he laid her down in a bed hung with silken drapes of red and gold, the colours of the sunset.
Then he drew back, one knee on the bed, and looked at her in the half-light. ‘So beautiful,’ he said, and his words gave her hope that her life had turned a corner, and that the bleakness of the last few weeks might be at an end.
He tugged at the buttons on his shirt, pulled it from his shoulders and sent it fluttering to the floor. Her eyes drank him in. Wide shoulders. Sculpted chest and abdomen and arms where muscles rippled with every movement. Arms whose hands were working at his waistband, sliding down the zipper, before they too joined his shirt on the floor.
And all the while, his dark eyes didn’t leave hers, their intensity leaving her breathless and giddy, making way for one brief moment of indecision, a sudden bubble of nerves that this was happening too fast. A sudden bubble of rational thought that sprang up unbidden.
As if sensing her momentary panic, he surprised her by reaching down to kiss her again, soothing her, and already it seemed too long that he’d been away, while his hand slid beneath her to ease down the zipper at her back. With every parted tooth she felt her desire intensify and coalesce, until need was at the very essence of her. He was still kissing her as he eased the shoulder straps down her arms, still kissing her as she eased up her hips and let him peel her sundress away, until she was lying on the bed with nothing but a few scraps of lace to shield her from his view, and never, it seemed, had she felt more vulnerable.
Only then did his lips leave hers, leaving her breathless and wanting, as he drew himself back on his heels. ‘Magnificent,’ he said, and she let go a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, before he returned to her, running his strong hands up the outside of her legs, her hips, her waist and shoulders and her breathing ratcheted up another notch as he came closer, scooping her into his arms and rolling her against him.
Skin against skin. His legs tangling with hers, rough versus smooth, corded muscles against toned flesh. His abdomen against hers. Locked from head to toe. An electric connection only heightened by the places still hidden, the places still to be revealed, the places that now ached with potent need.
His hand cupped one breast and she whimpered, arching her back into his touch, while her hands roamed the glory of his sculpted back, muscles shifting with every movement, fascinating and thrilling her in equal measure, her hands drinking in the perfection of his skin-scape.
And then the lace covering her breasts was gone and she wanted to cry with relief, but when he dipped his head to take one peaked nipple into his mouth, it was a cry of ecstasy she gave as spears of pleasure shot straight to her aching core.
She was already burning up when he turned his attention to her other breast, his seeking hand now free to roam downwards, his fingertips toying with the lace edging of her underwear before inching slowly beneath the lace to cup her mound, before venturing closer to that place where her need pooled and coalesced into a living beast, demanding to be sated. She was breathing hard now, alight with the passion he’d unfurled in her, perspiration beading on her skin as, stoked by his every touch, the flames built up inside.
She was already teetering on the edge, anticipation acting like accelerant on a fire, so when his fingers parted her, finding her slick with want, her nerve endings all but screaming for his touch, she was already primed.
One gliding caress, one gentle pass by no more than a fingertip, and she climaxed against his hand. Hard. The shudders reverberating through her, wave after wave of pleasure rocking her world, until it felt as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the earth.
He kissed her as she came down, raining kisses on her mouth, on her eyes, on her sweat-slickened breasts. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, suddenly embarrassed and feeling gauche, her inexperience clearly on display.
‘Shh...’ he soothed. ‘Don’t be.’
‘But...’
‘We are just getting started.’
She blinked up at him, still catching her breath, to see him sliding down the band of black underwear at his hips. Her eyes widened in appreciation. Even bigger than she’d imagined when she’d felt the hard press of him against her belly. Even more magnificent. And despite just climaxing, despite thinking she was spent, she felt desire curl upwards inside her like tendrils of fragrance from a scented candle.
He reached across into a drawer beside the bed, ripping open the foil without taking his eyes from hers, rolling the condom down his long length, his eyes daring hers to watch his progress. ‘You see what you do to me, mikro peristeri? You see how much I burn for you?’
The endearment was sweet, but... ‘Why do you call me your little dove?’
‘Because since we met,’ he said, positioning himself between her legs, leaning on one elbow to slowly sweep the other hand from her hair to her shoulder, over one breast and her belly, and lower, his fingers curving between her thighs, ‘you are always on edge. Always looking to fly away.’
She swallowed. It was hard to hold a conversation when a man had his hand—there. ‘I’m not flying away now.’
‘No,’ he said with a smile, his fingers traversing her still-sensitive flesh, gently exploring, caressing, circling her tender core. ‘You are a gift straight from the gods. How blessed am I that I should have stumbled into your orbit?’
Why he was still trying to pleasure her with his touch and his words, she didn’t know. She would enjoy the sex, she had no doubt, but there was no point him wasting his time. She would never climax again, not after having her mind blown so completely and utterly already.
And yet he seemed in no hurry, taking his time, dipping his head again to take each nipple in turn into his hot mouth before returning to her mouth, still intent on pleasuring her. That was when she felt it, felt one long finger slide inside her. Her muscles squeezed in response at the intimate intrusion, and he growled, low in his throat, as he followed it with a second, working in concert with the pad of his thumb, their dance on her tender flesh generating sparks of sensation where she thought there would be none.
But it was impossible.
There was no way.
Except her body had other ideas. Her senses stirred, he seemed to know how much pressure, how much teasing was enough to leave her breathless and wanting more.
And then his fingers slid away, replaced with a new, heated pressure, and for a moment she felt a sense of panic, that perhaps she was being too greedy and wanting it all. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said, resting on his elbows either side of her, his hands weaving their way into her hair, holding her captive to his kiss.
And as his hot mouth told her that he’d meant what he’d said, she relaxed, her hips angling, tilting to welcome him. He seemed to sense the moment she was ready, for he chose that exact moment to lunge, driving himself deep inside her.
She cried out, not in pain, but in the completion, a delicious feeling of fullness suffusing her flesh while nerve endings lit up like sparks under her skin. And that was before he started to move.
‘Oh,’ she said, as he slowly withdrew, wanting to cling on, already missing him. But he was back, and then again, slowly accelerating, building the rhythm faster, until their ragged breathing became their accompaniment. And sparks born in the smouldering ruins of her latest climax flared into flame and flickered and danced under her skin, until with one final thrust from Alexios, accompanied by one triumphant cry, her world shook apart again, this time with his name on her lips.
It took longer to find her way back this time, her breathing ragged, her mind blanked from everything but the sudden realisation that all the stuff she’d ever believed about sex and how many times you could achieve orgasm in a night had been incinerated in the heat of their coming together, the ashes scattering to the waters of the bottomless caldera far below.
* * *
He stood at the window, looking out over the sleeping crater, a ribbon of silvery light bisecting the inky darkness and lighting a path direct to his room. Lights twinkled on the island across the water, likewise on the yacht, anchored in a bay, while all else was dark.
He looked back at the bed, at the woman lying there in the beam of silver, her hair tangled across her pillow, her lips plump and parted, deeply asleep. She’d fallen into his bed as easily as she’d fallen for his ruse, just as he’d anticipated, but she’d been so much more than he’d expected too. So much more. She’d gone off like fireworks in his bed, responsive, explosive. And then she’d climaxed again, and again, and, by the wondrous look on her face, the last time had surprised her the most.
And he half wished Stavros Nikolides were still alive, so he could witness this moment. So Alexios could bodily drag him in here to see his precious daughter naked and supremely satisfied in the bed of his nemesis, the son of the man he had so badly wronged.
For that would surely kill him all over again.
Moonlight on the blackened caldera waters winked back at him, telling him his logic was flawed. Because if Stavros had been alive, he would have enacted his original plan, and Athena would never have been in his bed, and that would have been a travesty. Revenge this way was so much more satisfying.
There was more than one way for a father to pay, and make him pay he would.
The sins of the father...
He would make Stavros pay dearly.
He curled his hand into a fist, all the injustice he’d felt congealing into concrete within, and thumped it hard against the wall.
She stirred behind him. ‘Alexios?’ Her voice was husky with sleep. Surprisingly sexy. As she herself had been throughout the night whenever he had reached for her. ‘What are you doing? Can’t you sleep?’
‘I was thinking,’ he said.
‘About what?’
He flexed his fingers. ‘Tomorrow,’ he lied. ‘I was thinking about what we should do tomorrow.’
‘But... Don’t you have business to attend to?’
‘It can wait.’ He paused, arching an eyebrow. ‘Unless you don’t want to see me again? Are you going to fly away again, mikro peristeri?’
She kept him waiting, her teeth troubling her bottom lip, as if weighing it up. Before she said, ‘Not if you don’t want me to.’
And he smiled as he collected her in his arms and tumbled her back down onto the pillows. ‘Perfect.’
* * *
The sails had filled out in the warm breeze, the boat propelled across the bottomless waters of the caldera until they were far away from the newly arrived cruise ships and the well-worn tourist trails. Athena lay on the deck alongside Alexios, content to lie on her back and soak up the sun after a swim in the bottomless waters of the caldera.
From here the walls of the islands rose steeply around them, seemingly insurmountable, the jagged path up the cliff from the port seeming to defy the laws of nature and science. It was different to see the ring of islands that made up the crater’s edges from this aspect, the layers of pumice and ash that had spewed more than three thousand years ago from the erupting volcano so clearly visible in the distinctly coloured bands in the cliffs surrounding them.
‘What are you staring at?’ he asked beside her, rolled onto his side and following her gaze.
She nodded towards the soaring cliffs, thinking of the force of the eruption that had all but resulted in the destruction of the island as it then existed, all but obliterating the civilisation that had once called it home. ‘Sorry. I just never cease to be awed by this place. It’s hard to believe we’re sitting in the middle of a live volcano.’
Especially when the sun turned the surface of the sea to diamonds and the water lapped gently at the sides of the boat. Right now an eruption seemed impossible. Incomprehensible. But there was the evidence, all around them.
‘It must have been terrifying when it erupted,’ he said. ‘I can’t imagine what it was like being here.’
‘Most people were long gone,’ she said, sitting up. ‘There were earthquakes, bad ones, over many years. Some people stayed, but many abandoned their homes here and took their families in their ships and fled to Anatolia and to Crete. The lucky ones went early and much further afield.’
‘Why lucky?’
‘Because it wasn’t a simple eruption. That would have been bad enough, but when the sea water rushed into the empty lava chamber, it triggered a tidal wave that travelled for hundreds of miles. The northern coast of Crete, with the fleets of the Minoan traders, they were all destroyed. It wasn’t just Santorini, or Thera, as it was known then, that was destroyed. A dark ash cloud encircled the earth, blotting out the sun and wiping out the crops for many years. Even escape to somewhere like Crete proved no escape, just a deferral of the end. It signalled the end of the Minoan civilisation.’
He sat up alongside her, a frown tugging his dark brows together.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘In real life I’m an archaeologist and the Minoan civilisation, in particular, is a passion of mine. I studied it at university and I tend to get a bit carried away about it.’
He curled his hand around hers, lifted it to his lips. ‘You don’t have to be sorry for being passionate. I was never good at history. I was never a good student. Tell me more.’
She smiled, warming to her topic. ‘You know some believe the legend of Atlantis started right here, more than three thousand years ago. A fabulously wealthy and cultured civilisation, drowned under the sea and lost for ever.’
He propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Do you believe that?’
‘I do. It accords with the ancient Egyptian records, and the writings of Plato. The Egyptians traded with the Minoans until their world was suddenly blotted out, and why would that have happened unless some terrible fate had overcome them? Besides,’ she added with a smile, ‘it makes much more sense than the theory about some mythical island somewhere in the Atlantic that disappeared without trace or explanation, don’t you think? Whereas a beautiful island, an advanced civilisation, as good as wiped from the face of the earth—what better candidate than the Minoan civilisation right here in the centre of the then known world?’
He was staring at her face, his dark eyes lit with pleasure and the flames of something much hotter.
‘Do you have any idea how animated you look when you talk like this? Your whole face is alight, even the flecks in your eyes sparkle like golden chips in the light.’
She looked down, suddenly embarrassed. ‘I warned you. I get a bit carried away.’
His fingers took hold of her chin, turning it back towards him. ‘No, don’t be embarrassed about being passionate. You make your passion contagious. In fact, I think I know exactly how that volcano felt before it blew.’
And he drew her chin closer at the same time he dipped his head and his mouth met hers.
Something fluttered in her heart as she gave her mouth to his. Something small and indefinable, but like the brush of butterfly wings against her eyelashes. Something insignificant and yet of such import that it seemed her whole world had subtly shifted in a way that had nothing to do with the currents beneath their vessel.
His lips toyed with hers, gentling, caressing, warm breath intermingled, overlaced with the salty scent of the sea, before, slowly, he pulled gently away.
‘Happy?’ he asked, smiling down at her.
And Athena blinked as she looked into his beautiful face. Not because of his question, but because of the answer bubbling up inside her. Because she was happy, honestly truly happy for the first time in what seemed for ever. Because she felt as if she was truly alive. ‘I am.’
‘You sound surprised.’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe just a little.’ She gave a blissful sigh. It was the island, she told herself, for Santorini had once again proved to be her refuge and her saviour. There was a reason she loved this place.
His hand took hers and she felt that zing of excitement, that thrill of connection, she felt every time he touched her, before he lifted it to his lips, and turned it and kissed her palm, his hot tongue stroking it, his dark eyes filled with the promise of dark deeds, sending a delicious thrill coursing through her.
‘I like your bikini,’ he said, his eyes scanning the length of her body without his head shifting, his voice low and thick and vibrating with so much desire it was impossible not to feel aroused. ‘I’m going to enjoy peeling it off.’
Her nipples peaked and hardened as his eyes lingered at her breasts even while his fingers toyed with the tie at her hips, the electric touch of his fingertips setting sparks beneath her skin while his lips came down to meet hers, their heat enough to melt any thought of resistance away. The white bikini had been an impulse decision when he’d suggested sailing today and she’d told him she hadn’t brought a swimsuit. A good one as it turned out. He’d taken her to a boutique and she’d been rifling through the racks of one-pieces when he’d offered her a clutch of bikinis. She’d almost said no outright—she hadn’t worn a two-piece since she’d been that cocksure teen A-lister baring almost everything she had to bare on the Amalfi Coast—but something in his eyes had made her reconsider and agree to try them on.
And that very first one, the white one—she’d seen the heat and hunger as his eyes had roamed her exposed flesh, a hunger that had made her insides tremble with the promise of the forbidden. Not some spoilt son of a newspaper tycoon or shipping magnate looking at her with an overactive libido and clumsy technique, but a man, looking at a woman, and wanting her.
As he wanted her now.
He broke away from the kiss, the curled hairs of his sun-warmed chest kissing her bare skin as it rose and fell with his ragged breathing. ‘We should take this downstairs,’ he said, his heated breath on her face, like an invitation. And in the flutter of her answering heart, she knew it wasn’t just the island that made her so happy. It was this man beside her and the way he made her feel. As if she was special.
As if she deserved to be happy.
And after the despair of the last few weeks, of the shock of learning her estranged father had died, and the remorse she felt for a relationship gone badly wrong, and then the guilt on learning he’d forgiven her without ever letting her know, this man made her feel things might have changed, that her life was on the up.
She went willingly as he tugged her to her feet. Went willingly down through the hatch to the freshly made bed in the spacious cabin lined with glossy timbers with brass fittings. And here he finished what he’d started, tugging at the tie between her breasts, brushing the thin straps over her shoulders and letting her bikini top fall to the floor, before his hands moved to her thighs, untying the bows at her sides until that scrap of material similarly fell to the floor.
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Trish Morey
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: His vengeful seduction……will bind them together—forever!Athena Nikolides is wary of being exploited for her newly-inherited fortune. But charismatic Alexios Kyriakos is already a billionaire, and with their overwhelmingly intense desire, Athena feels safe with him. So she’s devastated to learn Alexios only wants her to avenge himself against her father! But when the consequence of their undeniable passion is revealed, now he wants her for so much more…