Читать книгу Return of the Moralis Wife - JACQUELINE BAIRD, Jacqueline Baird - Страница 7

THE blistering heat of the July day had faded to a bearable level as the luxury yacht glided into the harbour of the Greek island of Letos just before midnightb.

Orion Moralis—tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and with a dark frown on his handsome face—the powerful, and some would say ruthless, owner of the vast Moralis Corporation—walked down the stairs from the bridge and onto the main deck. Casually dressed in combat pants and an open-necked black shirt, he paused for a moment to look at the assortment of buildings surrounding the harbour. The church tower held centre stage in the only village on the island, where Mark Stakis lived. Had lived, he amended with a shrug of his broad shoulders. Though as far as Rion was concerned the man had been dead to him for years.

His yacht, with a crew of seven, was fitted with state-of-the-art technology and had been heading for the coast of Egypt for a rare three-week break. Rion had planned to combine essential work with a cruise and a diving holiday. He had heard the news that Stakis was dead and had had no intention of going to the man’s funeral—but yesterday morning he had received an informative e-mail from Stakis’s lawyer, Mr Kadiekis, requesting his presence. He had diverted the yacht midway across the Mediterranean to get here—his trip cut short before it had started.

Rion strolled across the deck and stopped at the rail to glance down at the harbour to where a sailor was securing the yacht to its berth. He was impatient to get ashore; he needed to stretch his legs and shake of the restlessness that had plagued him for months—a major factor in his decision to take a break from his hectic work schedule. The restlessness had increased considerably after the news Mr Kadiekis had given him …

Amazingly Mark Stakis hadn’t changed his will in years, and the knowledge had brought memories Rion had thought dead and buried to the surface with a vengeance.

Six years ago he had married Stakis’s granddaughter Selina Taylor—and what a mistake that had been. Rion rarely if ever made mistakes—in business or in his private life—and it had been a huge blow to his ego when his young wife had betrayed him. For a second black fury blazed through him at the memory. Then abruptly he turned from the rail, and with the gangway in place walked down onto dry land.

Breathing deeply of the night air, Rion walked the length of the harbour away from the lights and onto the beach, enjoying the stillness of the night. The further he walked the more the anger the thought of his ex-wife had aroused in him ebbed away, and he began to relax. He listened to the soft sound of the waves against the shore as he strolled around the headland and through the trees, and realised he had reached the Stakises’ private beach.

He stopped for a moment and looked at the sprawling white villa set on the hillside. A single light shone from the building, dimly illuminating the elegant terraces trailing down to the shore. A retaining wall with a gate gave access to the beach and he glanced, around wondering if there was any security. Suddenly the gate opened.

Rion’s dark eyes narrowed on the white ghost-like figure that appeared thirty feet away, then widened on the very obvious feminine form … certainly neither ghost nor Security.

He stepped swiftly back into the shadow of the trees as the light of the moon illuminated the woman, jogging over the sand, the white robe she wore flying out behind her.

Selina. It had to be …

Rion stiffened, every muscle in his body tense. Although he’d had prior knowledge that she would be here it was still a shock to see her. The woman had some nerve. It was common knowledge that from the day she had returned to England after their divorce her grandfather had cut off all contact with her. But Rion wasn’t surprised. The scent of money was a big lure, he thought cynically.

He stood motionless, his dark eyes narrowed intently on his ex-wife. She obviously thought she was alone as she shrugged off the robe and let it drop to the sand, pausing for a long moment and looking out to sea, a minuscule white bikini her only covering. It was definitely Selina—but not quite as he remembered her. The short, strawberry-blonde hair was now long, swept back in a ponytail that fell midway between her shoulder blades, and as for the rest …

Rion’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes darkening in primitive male appreciation and his body hardening as she pulled the tie from her hair to let it fall in shimmering waves down her back. Then, tilting her face to the night sky, she stretched and raised her arms above her head as though in some kind of pagan worship to the moon. Incredibly, she was even more attractive than he remembered, her body toned and shapely. She was a modern-day Eve—temptation personified.

The pale silver light gleamed on high, firm breasts, the shadowed indentation of her tiny waist and the sensual curve of her hips, and he could not take his eyes off her.

Then, as he stared, enthralled by her beauty, she ran forward and leapt, her back arching in a graceful curve as she dived into the sea.

Fascinated he watched her slender arms scything through the water with barely a ripple as she swam out to sea. Too far out. The worrying thought hit him, and suddenly she slid beneath the waves. With a knee-jerk reaction Rion stepped forward. But she reappeared an instant later and he faded back into the shadows, his heart pounding, and watched as she changed to a butterfly stroke and drew near the shore. She stilled to float gently on her back, her arms and legs outstretched, like some star nymph of the sea.

Rion had never seen anything more erotic in his life. She spun a few times, like a whirling dervish playing in the water, and finally walked out of the sea and strolled back up the beach. Reaching for her robe, she slipped it on and looped the belt around her waist. She lifted her hands and, tilting back her head, swept the long mass of her hair back from her face. She paused for a moment.

Fiercely aroused, Rion wanted her with a hunger that disturbed him. Obviously he had been too long without a woman, he reasoned. For a moment he had trouble remembering how long—months, he realised in surprise. Well, that was about to change—and he knew exactly who with …

His eyes raked over Selina, a predatory light in their darkening depths.

He must have made some movement, because her head had turned in his direction as though she sensed his presence. It crossed his mind to walk out and confront her. But the time was not right. It was her grandfather’s funeral in a few hours. He could wait …

Selina owed him. Not so much money—though that was obviously the reason for her appearance at her grandfather’s funeral, as she was the old man’s only relative.

Narrow-eyed and aching with frustration, he watched as she slowly scanned along the treeline where he stood. He held his breath, then let it out slowly when, after what seemed like an age, she finally shook her head and turned to walk away.

His eyes glittered with a ferocious light as he fought to crush the sexual hunger that had hit him like a thunderbolt. Once he had believed Selina was a poor little innocent, with no parents and no one to care for her and a grandfather who had his own agenda. He had felt sorry for her. But not for long. Less than four months after they had met he’d married Selina and she had betrayed him …

Rion had cut her out of his life and his mind. Selina had been dead to him from that moment on. But when he’d heard she was to be here, and he had been gifted a way to make her suffer in a monetary sense—strip her bare for her betrayal—he had decided to do so. But now a much more satisfactory scenario came to mind. His lips curled and there was an anticipatory gleam in his dark eyes. A female companion was a sexual necessity for a relaxing holiday—and who better than Selina? He would strip her bare, all right, and sate himself in her lush body once and for all …

The moment of reckoning had been a long time coming, but now it had. He was going to have Selina again—not tonight, but soon, very soon. They would have the honeymoon he had once planned and never taken. She owed him that much at least. She had fooled him once with the shy, blushing virgin act, and he had treated her with kid gloves for the short time they were married. But she had soon shown how devious she really was—especially when it came to their divorce. This time it would be on his terms. The gloves were off …

Selina had walked out of the sea and swept back her hair with a smile on her lips, feeling refreshed and at ease, her eyes on the night sky. She’d stiffened as she recognised the constellation of Orion, directly above her. In Greek mythology he was a great huntsman of charm and beauty who on his death had been placed by the gods in the constellations of the sky.

Nothing like the Orion she had known, who had all the charm of a rattlesnake, Selina thought scathingly.

She glanced down and along the beach to the distant lights of the harbour, then back towards the trees, and suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She had the strongest feeling someone was watching her. Not the stars—she wasn’t a fanciful teenager any more …

Maybe swimming in the middle of the night had not been such a great idea, but the pressure of the past few days had finally got to her, and she hadn’t been able to sleep for the heat … Well, that was what she blamed her agitation on, rather than face her grandfather’s death and the painful memories returning to Greece had evoked. Selina could remember with blinding clarity the first time she’d met her grandfather, and the start of a fairytale life that had quickly turned into a nightmare.

She’d had a happy childhood with the mother she had loved—a beautiful, dramatic and vibrant woman, a trained opera singer—and her Aunt Peggy, whom she adored. She wasn’t really her aunt, but a babysitter-cum-housekeeper—as she had realised when she was about five.

Her mother had told her that her father was dead, and for years Selina had accepted that. So it had come as an enormous shock when, in the September after she turned eighteen, she’d met Mark Stakis—an elderly Greek who had said he was her grandfather and told her the true story of her birth.

His son, Benedict Stakis, was Selina’s biological father, and he had died with his family in a tragic accident.

Mark Stakis had only learnt of the existence of Selina after his son’s death …

It had hurt Selina deeply to realise her mum had always known that Benedict Stakis was alive. But in return for a house, and a guarantee to pay for Selina’s upkeep until she was twenty-one, her mum had signed a contract to keep his identity secret from everyone—including her daughter …

Sighing, Selina began walking back to the villa. In the seven years since she had met her grandfather life had taught Selina a lot. She had seen some of the terrible things people were forced to do just to live in this world, and she no longer judged her mother quite so harshly for doing what she had done to ensure a good life for her daughter.

God, she had been so naive when she had met her grandfather, Selina thought, entering the villa and closing the door behind her. She had spent Christmas with him, here in this house. She glanced around the huge if somewhat tired-looking reception hall. But it had been what had happened the next time she’d visited Greece that had haunted her for years. Not any more. She was her own woman now and intended to remain that way.

In her experience good men were in a minority, and ruthlessly ambitious immoral men were in the ascendancy in today’s world. She only had to remember her younger self and the night she’d met Orion Moralis to confirm her view, she thought, letting her mind slip back to the past …

She had been so excited to be back in Greece for a second time, and she’d been staying in her grandfather’s house in Athens. He had held a dinner party, inviting the Moralis family.

Selina had been introduced to Helen Moralis and her daughter, Iris, a few days earlier, and they had been kind enough to take her around the sights and shops. They were there, with Paul Moralis, the husband and father.

Orion, the son, had arrived late, and Selina had taken one look at him and thought ‘tall, dark and handsome’ could have been coined for him. He had smiled and talked to her, his twinkling dark eyes mesmerising her, and with every passing minute she had fallen deeper under his spell.

Finally, when dinner was over, he’d said he had to leave early to take a conference call. Her grandfather had told her to lead Rion out through the garden because it was quicker.

She had stumbled on the garden path in the high heels Iris had convinced her to buy, along with the daring green dress she’d been wearing, and Rion had caught her. He had kept hold of her hand and talked to her, charmed her, and finally kissed and caressed her.

She had fallen headlong in love with him.

Even now, years later, the memory made Selina shiver—with revulsion, she told herself. The only person being led down the garden path that night had been her, she had realised bitterly a few months later.

Straightening her shoulders, she glanced around the silent house and walked up the grand staircase to her bedroom. Tomorrow was her grandfather’s funeral. She had to stay strong to get through the day. As Anna had said, it was up to Selina, his only relative, to ensure his funeral was perfect—as befitted a man of his great stature.

Personally, Selina wasn’t convinced he had been great. But when Anna, his housekeeper—the one person who had befriended Selina in the past and the only one she had kept in touch with since leaving Greece—had called to say he was seriously ill, and had asked Selina to come immediately, she hadn’t been able to refuse. Now she was glad she had arrived two days before her grandfather had died. They’d had a chance to talk and make a sort of peace with each other.

Reconciled with her grandfather, however briefly, Selina had agreed with Anna’s suggestion that she stay and act as hostess to the guests that were expected for the funeral. Now was not the time to be reliving painful memories of the past—if ever …

Rion Moralis waited until he saw Selina disappear through the garden gates and reappear walking up the terraces that led to the villa. There was a shaft of light as she opened the door of the house and vanished again. She was obviously home safe.

Turning, he strolled back along the beach the way he had come, remembering the first time he’d set eyes on Selina. Thinking about it now, as he rounded the headland and saw the lights of the harbour, Rion smiled grimly. That fatal day had been the start of the train of events that had led to his disastrous marriage.

Selina had not been the usual kind of woman he was attracted to, but that had not stopped his body reacting instantly the moment he saw her. She had blushed when they were introduced, but in conversation over dinner it had become obvious she was a bright young woman.

Later, when she’d walked with him through the garden to his car, against his better judgement he had kissed her. With hindsight he realised he had behaved like the teenager Selina actually had been, letting his body’s desire have its way. He’d kissed her again and she had responded with eager naivety, confessing she had never been kissed before—which had only inflamed him more. She hadn’t tried to stop him when he’d trailed his hand down her throat, traced the creamy curves of her breasts, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her dress to tease the small, pink nipples …

Damn it … He was hard again at the memory. He had never felt such an uncontrollable urge for sex with a woman before or since—and it had to stop.

He had proposed to her on this very island soon after they’d met, and had married her on the seventeenth of July in the local church—to the delight of his father and Mark Stakis.

Later, Rion had cynically decided that given the circumstances of their meeting and his opinion of the female sex, he hadn’t been so much surprised as angry when, nine weeks into the marriage, he had returned from a business trip early in the morning on the day of her nineteenth birthday, wanting to surprise her with a diamond pendant he had commissioned specially for her and with arrangements made for a belated honeymoon in the Seychelles.

He had surprised her, all right—with a man. Leaping out of her bed. Not a man—more a boy …

When he’d been able to see through the red haze of fury that had engulfed him, naturally he had thrown her out and informed his lawyer to instigate divorce proceedings immediately. He had neither seen nor spoken to her since.

But he had been surprised, and absolutely furious, when he had discovered just how bright the supposedly shy Selina was when it came to their divorce …

She had refused to sign papers admitting adultery for a swift no-contest divorce in front of his lawyer and her grandfather, then returned to England and consulted a lawyer of her own—the father of her friend Beth, both of whom had been guests at the damned wedding!

Her lawyer had then had the audacity to inform Rion’s lawyer that Selina would consent only to a no-fault divorce. Otherwise she would meet him in open court. The devious little witch had intended to cross-petition, citing Rion’s adultery with various women!

His lawyer had advised him that although Selina had little chance of winning it would be wiser to accept her offer and avoid the publicity a court case would arouse. Her lawyer had evidence to support Selina’s case: video clips of Rion from gossip websites.

One was of him with Chloe in the nightclub, the same night he had met Selina. Chloe was quoted as giving him a score of four out of ten for his sexual ability. A woman scorned, he thought ruefully. Another was of Rion arguing with a photographer outside a club while Lydia, who was now married to Bastias, an influential Greek banker, looked on, plus a couple of other women Rion barely recalled meeting and certainly had not bedded.

Rion had had no choice but to agree with his lawyer—though it had infuriated the hell out of him to do so … Grimly he had conceded that the internet was great for business but a thousand times more lethal than the paparazzi when it came to one’s private life. Even now it enraged him that he’d been outwitted by a faithless teenage wife …

He had blanked her from his mind. He’d been a free man again and had got on with his life, expanding his business empire. But now, after hearing from Kadiekis and seeing her tonight, she filled his mind again as he walked back to his yacht.

Making for his cabin, he stripped off and took a long, cold shower …