Читать книгу Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire - Carol Marinelli, Anne Mather - Страница 10

MILOS drove Melissa back to the vineyard in the late afternoon.

He was still shaken, however, and he gripped the wheel with sweating fingers in a futile attempt to control his emotions. But, God help him, he was staggered by what he’d just discovered.

His original intention had been to spend only a short time at Vassilios. Despite his willingness to entertain the girl, he hadn’t really expected Melissa and his sister to hit it off so well.

As he’d anticipated, Rhea had been waiting for him when they had arrived at the villa and, although at eighteen she was scarcely a contemporary of the younger girl, she’d been delighted to meet Melissa.

He acknowledged it was probably because she was so different from the girls Rhea was used to associating with. Girls from wealthy families, like her own, who were generally in awe of their parents. No one could accuse Melissa of that, however, and Rhea, who had always been a bit of a rebel herself, seemed fascinated by her.

From Melissa’s point of view, the visit had been a complete success. Rhea had prevailed upon her brother to let the girl stay long enough to have a swim, and, initially, he’d been happy enough to indulge her. After all, he’d had the agenda of an upcoming conference in Athens to study, and it had been quite pleasant hearing the shrieks of girlish laughter coming from the pool.

It wasn’t until Rhea had come to find him and ask if Melissa could stay for supper that things had changed. ‘We want to practise applying eye make-up,’ she said appealingly. ‘You know I’m no good at it and Melissa says she is. Her mother probably doesn’t stop her from reading women’s magazines like Mama does me.’

‘Trashy magazines, you mean?’ Milos taunted drily. ‘Come on, Rhea, Melissa is—what? Twelve? Thirteen years of age at most? I grant you she acts older, but are you seriously telling me—?’

‘She’s almost fourteen, actually,’ Rhea broke in defensively. ‘Her birthday’s next month, like mine. We’re both Geminis.’

Milos’s sense of shock was staggering. A sick feeling invaded his stomach, filling his mouth with bile, and a nerve in his temple started to throb. It couldn’t be true, he told himself. Rhea must have got it wrong. Melissa couldn’t be almost fourteen. If she were …

‘Are you all right?’

Rhea noticed his sudden pallor and the knowledge that his sister couldn’t be allowed to suspect his thoughts brought a spurious wave of colour back into his cheeks.

‘I—yes, I mean—no.’ He was at a loss to explain his reaction and it was easier to pretend a momentary giddiness than admit how ill he suddenly felt. ‘I’m a little dizzy, that’s all.’

‘You’ve been working too hard,’ Rhea said at once, evidently relieved it wasn’t anything more serious. ‘It’s so hot today. Perhaps you’ll feel better after supper.’

‘Perhaps,’ Milos agreed, wishing she would just go and leave him alone for a few minutes. ‘I’ll be all right.’

‘So may Melissa stay for supper?’ Rhea persisted. ‘I’d like her to and it will give you more time to—’

‘No!’ On that score, Milos knew he had to refuse her. ‘I’m sorry, Rhea, but her mother’s expecting her back.’

‘There are phones,’ Rhea said sulkily, and if he hadn’t felt so numb he might have wondered if Melissa’s influence was already having an effect.

‘Another fifteen minutes, that’s all,’ he said. And, gripping the arms of his chair with a fierceness that bordered on desperation, ‘You’ve already had over an hour.’

‘You’re no fun, do you know that?’ Rhea muttered, apparently already forgetting all about his sudden weakness, and Milos thought that was just as well. ‘I don’t know what Melissa’s going to say.’

But that was the least of his worries. As Rhea flounced out, he was glad she had no idea of the bombshell she’d just delivered. Could what he was thinking possibly be true? he wondered. Surely not. Melissa must have exaggerated her age just as she tended to exaggerate everything else.

Ironically enough, he was desperate to see her then, and as soon as he felt his legs would support him he stumbled across the room to the windows to stare intently at the girl frolicking so happily in his pool.

Melissa had borrowed one of Rhea’s swimsuits and he told himself it was the sophistication of the cream and brown bikini that gave her young body such a look of maturity. It had to be, he insisted, but with a hopeless lack of conviction in the thought.

The trouble was, he was then able to see similarities between the two girls, likenesses that until that moment had been distorted, not just by his ignorance, but by Melissa’s use of make-up and the ugly clothes she wore.

A black wave of fury swept over him, compounded by his blindness and Helen’s total lack of honesty. Why hadn’t she told him? She should have told him. If he was Melissa’s biological father, he had had a right to know.

But then he remembered something she’d said to him just after she’d stepped off the ferry. She’d asked him about his wife. His wife! How had she known he’d had a wife? He hadn’t told her, and he doubted it would have come up in Sam’s letters to her. And why was it that whoever had delivered that piece of information hadn’t also told her he’d got a divorce? He was baffled.

He sighed now and felt Melissa’s eyes slide in his direction. She was sitting beside him in the front of the Mercedes, and now she said curiously, ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Immediately, he felt contrite. He hadn’t spoken to her since they’d left Vassilios and he should have guessed she’d be curious.

‘Of course not,’ he said, glancing her way and experiencing another shock of recognition. Dammit, she had his eyes. And his nose. ‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

‘I overstayed my welcome, right?’ she declared, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘Hey, blame your sister, not me.’

‘Did I say you’d overstayed your welcome?’ he countered shortly, tamping down the impulse to tell her not to speak to him that way. He drew a deep breath. ‘I just hope your mother hasn’t been worried about you.’

Though she would be, he guessed, suddenly understanding Helen’s reluctance to allow him and Melissa to spend time together. She must be living in fear that he’d ask the girl how old she was.

‘She’s always worrying about me,’ said Melissa indifferently, drawing up one foot to rest her heel on the edge of the seat.

Milos hesitated. ‘And does she have a reason for that?’ he ventured carefully, and Melissa grimaced.

‘She thinks so.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘I do.’ Milos was amazed at how much he wanted to know. ‘Doesn’t she approve of the way you dress?’

‘Did she tell you that?’

‘No.’

‘So what are you saying? That you don’t approve either?’

Milos shook his head. ‘We weren’t talking about me.’

‘No, I know.’ She cast him a speculative look. ‘So why are you so interested?’

‘I’m trying to—to get to know you.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Melissa was sardonic. ‘What you really mean is, you’re trying to impress my mum. You didn’t really want to take me out. You just wanted to score points with her.’

‘You couldn’t be more wrong.’ In actual fact, Milos couldn’t remember why he’d agreed to take her out. It seemed so long ago now. Almost in a parallel universe. He made another effort to get through to her. ‘Wouldn’t you like us to be—friends?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Patently, she didn’t believe him. ‘Lucky for you that Rhea was there, wasn’t it?’

Lucky? Milos wouldn’t have used that word himself. Yet he acknowledged that sooner or later he was bound to have guessed the truth. Or, at least, he hoped he would.

And there was still Helen …

‘So what did she say about me?’ Melissa asked suddenly, and once again Milos was nonplussed.

‘Who?’

‘Rhea, of course. She must have said something. She said she was going to ask you when you were taking me home, but she took ages.’

Milos considered his words very carefully before replying. ‘If you must know,’ he said, ‘she was telling me how much she was enjoying your company. You’re very different from the girls she usually mixes with.’

‘Tell me about it.’ He saw her soft lips compress and for a moment she was incredibly like her mother. ‘So I didn’t bore her, huh?’

‘No.’ Milos knew an unexpected surge of compassion, and for the first time he realised he wanted her to like him. ‘Were you?’

‘Me?’ He tried to ignore the way she wedged her foot against the console before continuing. ‘Hell, no. It was wicked!’

Wicked?

It wasn’t Milos’s usual understanding of the word, but judging from Melissa’s expression it meant something good. ‘I’m glad,’ he said, and he meant it. ‘Maybe we can do the same thing again?’

‘Maybe.’ Melissa regarded him critically. ‘So long as you don’t start telling me what to do.’

‘People do that, do they?’

Melissa shrugged. ‘They say I’m uncontrollable.’

‘And are you?’

‘No.’ She was indignant. ‘But I can’t help it if I find school a drag.’

‘Why do you find it a drag?’

Melissa lifted her shoulders again. ‘I don’t know, do I?’

‘I’m sure you do.’

Her jaw jutted. ‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you? You think getting me to talk about school and stuff will make me start to like it?’

‘I wouldn’t be so presumptuous,’ said Milos drily. ‘But sometimes if people don’t enjoy things, it’s because they don’t understand what’s going on.’

‘Are you implying I’m thick?’ Melissa huffed. ‘You have to be kidding! I can do their assignments standing on my head!’

‘So why don’t you?’

‘Yeah, and be known as a nerd!’ Melissa was scornful. ‘No, thanks, I prefer to hang with my friends.’

Milos shook his head. ‘Are you sure they’re not the—what was it you said?—the thick ones? It seems more sensible to me to use your brains if you want to be a success.’

‘Hey, did I say I wanted to be a success?’ asked Melissa sharply.

‘You said you wanted a car like this,’ Milos reminded her. ‘Cars cost money.’

‘What would you know about it?’ retorted Melissa rudely. ‘I doubt if you’ve ever had to work for anything in your life.’

Milos expelled a breath. ‘That’s what you think, is it?’

‘Yes. No.’ Melissa looked a little shamefaced now. ‘I just mean, we’re not like you.’

You could be, thought Milos, the realisation that he had a responsibility here striking him with sudden force. But would Helen let him help her? He somehow doubted he would be given the chance.

It didn’t surprise him to find Helen perched on the low stone wall that edged the terrace waiting for them. ‘Oh, boy, a welcoming committee,’ muttered Melissa gloomily. ‘Are you gonna tell her what I’ve said?’ She frowned. ‘Or were you given orders to sort me out?’

‘No one gives me orders,’ retorted Milos shortly, and then, meeting Melissa’s I-told-you-so look, he pulled a face. ‘Not usually, anyway,’ he amended, knowing exactly what she was thinking, and they were sharing a smile of mutual understanding when the car halted beside her mother.

Helen was still wearing the skirt and halter she’d had on earlier. The skirt was shorter than she usually wore and Milos’s eyes were instantly drawn to her slim arms and long, slender legs. Her hair had come loose from the pony-tail, too, and he wondered if it was because she’d been running anxious hands through it that thick damp strands were clinging sensuously to her flushed cheeks.

She reached for the door as soon as the car had stopped, pulling it open for Melissa to alight. ‘I can do it,’ Melissa grumbled, and Milos hoped she was sorry because the trip was over. She gave him a rueful look. ‘Thanks for the ride.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said, and, without waiting for her mother to join her, Melissa sauntered up the steps and into the villa. Which left Milos alone with Helen. The ideal opportunity to confront her, he thought. So why did he feel such a reluctance to do so? What if he was wrong?

Her sudden outburst startled him. ‘You had no right to be so long,’ she exclaimed. ‘You must have known I’d be worried about her. What on earth have you been doing?’

Finding out I had a daughter?

But he found he couldn’t say that. What if she denied it? What would he do then? Did he really want to find out?

‘You knew I was taking her to meet my sister,’ he said instead. ‘Melissa wanted to have a swim and I didn’t think it would be a federal offence.’

Helen wrapped her arms around her waist. ‘You should have said so.’

‘I thought I just did.’

‘No. I mean—oh, it doesn’t matter. I expect Melissa enjoyed herself.’

‘We all did,’ said Milos mildly and saw how her eyes flickered warily to his. ‘Rhea, too,’ he added, taking pity on her. ‘She’s not that much older than Melissa.’

‘I thought you said she was eighteen?’

‘So?’

He dared her to contradict him, but she didn’t. ‘Well,’ she said, with a careless lift of her shoulders, ‘Melissa’s home now. That’s the important thing.’

‘Is it?’

She stiffened. ‘What else is there?’

Milos gave her a studied look. ‘I was wondering if you’d told your father about—us yet.’

‘No!’ Her denial was vehement, and with his new knowledge he realised how revealing that was.

‘Why not?’

‘You can ask me that?’ Helen’s face burned with colour. ‘Have you no shame?’

Milos’s brows arched. ‘Have you?’ he countered, stung by her persistence in blaming him for what had happened between them. ‘I’d have thought you’d be eager to tell him how I betrayed his trust. But perhaps you have other reasons not to?’

Helen’s eyes widened now, giving her the look of a rabbit that had been caught in the headlights of a passing car. ‘Wh—what other reasons?’ she stammered, evidently caught off guard by his question, and if Milos had had any doubts about Melissa’s parentage, her reaction erased them.

‘You tell me,’ he said, despising himself for feeling sorry for her now. And before she could answer him, Melissa appeared at the top of the steps.

‘Hey, Sam says I’m to invite you in for a drink,’ she called, addressing herself to Milos, and he could almost feel Helen’s relief at the interruption.

But Melissa wasn’t finished. Coming down the steps towards them, she took in the evident tension between him and her mother and her eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on? Did I interrupt something?’