Читать книгу The Greek Tycoon's Mistress - Julia James - Страница 7

THEO stared moodily out over Hyde Park from the penthouse suite where he and his grandfather were staying. The trees had turned autumnal already; summer was over.

His mood was grim. Demos had just left, and the exchange with Milo had not been pleasant. When his grandfather had finished lecturing him on duty, responsibility, family and Sofia Allessandros waiting in Athens for him to deign to turn up, Demos had stubbornly repeated what he’d said to Theo the night before. He wasn’t ready to get married. That was all. He was enjoying his bachelor life.

Then he’d walked out.

Theo turned back towards Milo.

‘You are so sure of this marriage?’ he heard himself ask.

Milo flashed him a dark look from eyes which, though wrinkled, were still keen and sharp.

‘Demos needs a good marriage. Sofia Allessandros is just the girl for him.’

Theo paused. ‘I know,’ he said carefully, ‘that you are in a hurry. But can’t you give him more time? It’s his life, Milo.’

The dark, shrewd eyes stared at him.

‘I’m worried about him,’ he said. ‘I want to see him safe with Sofia Allessandros.’

There seemed to be meaning in his words. Theo frowned.

‘This woman of his? A pillow-friend, nothing more. He won’t marry her, if that’s what’s worrying you!’

The dark eyes snapped and Milo’s mouth thinned.

‘Young men are foolish!’ He fixed Theo with a piercing, uncomfortable look. ‘You would have made such a foolish marriage…’

The accusation hung in the air. For a moment Theo stilled. Then, with a deliberate shrug of his powerful shoulders, he said, ‘Well, you and my father soon sorted that out, didn’t you? And that other “minor complication” it involved!’

The accusation had been returned, and Milo felt it. His eyes snapped again. ‘Don’t take that tone! We did what was necessary. A woman like that—you should be grateful!’

Theo stilled again. ‘Grateful.’ The word fell heavily from his lips.

A harsh, impatient rasp sounded in the old man’s throat.

‘Money showed her true colours! It always does with women of her stamp!’

He shifted restlessly in the chair he was sitting in. Pain flickered briefly in his face. Theo saw it. Pity filled him. The past was gone—his grandfather and his father had done what they had thought best, by their lights. And they had been right, he knew. Money did show true colours. And he was grateful, just as Milo said he should be. Grateful to have had his illusions shattered.

Illusions were always dangerous. In business, and in bed.

Theo had no illusions any more. Never again. He knew what he wanted from women now. It was simple, pleasurable—and painless. As for taking a wife—no. No matter how much Milo pressurised him to continue the family name, he knew he would never trust a woman with his happiness again.

‘Sofia will make Demos a good wife. You know that.’

Milo’s voice brought him back to the problem in hand.

Yes, Sofia Allessandros would make Demos a good wife. She had been groomed from childhood to be the perfect wife for a rich man. And, like every well brought up Greek girl, she was as untouched as the morning dew.

Theo’s brow darkened briefly. The image of Demos’s lovely young pillow-friend slid into his mind, lush and enticing. Tempting men from their duties, their responsibilities—their families.

As if reading his thoughts, Milo spoke again.

‘Demos won’t look twice at Sofia while he’s got a mistress to warm his bed.’

The grim look returned to Theo’s face. Leandra’s lush body swayed in his vision.

‘That one would warm any man’s bed!’

His grandfather’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yours, Theo?’

Theo gave a rasp of denial. But Milo hadn’t built a business empire from scratch without being able to read men’s thoughts. He gave a sudden rough laugh.

‘Well, that would be one way of removing the obstacle!’

Theo’s mouth set in a thin line.

‘I was thinking of something a little more basic.’

His grandfather gave that rough laugh again. In his time, Milo Atrides had kept mistresses by the score.

‘Nothing is more basic than sex,’ he said bluntly.

‘Except money,’ corrected his grandson. He looked straight at Milo. ‘That method never fails. You, of all people, should know that.’

If his grandfather heard the bitterness in his grandson’s voice, he ignored it. He had done what he had had to do. The woman had been a danger to his family. As this one now was.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, relaxing back in his chair. ‘Money’s a good method.’

Theo nodded.

‘I’ll take care of it. She’ll be out of his bed in a week!’

Leandra frowned in concentration. ‘Can you just give me my cue again please, Demos?’

‘Of course.’

He smiled obligingly, but Leandra could see that his eyes were troubled. The morning’s interview with his grandfather had been painful, she knew. She felt so sorry for him. In the weeks she’d spent at his apartment she’d grown to like this young man who came from such a totally different world. Their only link was Chris. Why did his family keep trying to arrange his life for him? It was bad enough his grandfather pressurising him to marry—now even his cousin was joining in!

His cousin was totally unlike Demos, she mused. With Demos she felt safe and comfortable. With Theo Atrides she’d never feel safe or comfortable. She gave an inward shiver.

Then, resolutely, she turned back to the page. Demos was kindness itself in agreeing to help her learn this fiendishly difficult part. It would bring neither fame nor fortune, but it was a privilege to have been chosen for it. The Marchester Festival, highly specialised though it was, had an excellent reputation. Besides, the effort of learning it helped to take her mind off Theo Atrides.

And she needed all the help she could get. He was haunting her. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. His hooded eyes were vivid in her brain, looking her over—setting her body on fire…

He intruded everywhere, even in her dreams. Which was ridiculous—she would never see him again. He’d go back to Athens with his grandfather, admit defeat over Demos, and that would be that.

He would admit defeat, wouldn’t he? After all, in the end there was nothing either Theo or his grandfather could do to force Demos to marry Sofia Allessandros. All Demos had to do was stand firm.

Would Sofia mind being rejected by the man she was expecting to marry? No one seemed too concerned about her wishes in all of this!

‘Demos,’ she heard herself asking, ‘are you sure Sofia won’t be upset that you won’t marry her? It sounds like she’s spent her whole life assuming you will.’

He looked away uncomfortably. ‘I can’t help it, Leandra. You know I can’t marry her. For me to do so would be to wrong her grievously.’

She bit her lip. Carefully, she said, ‘Can’t you tell her why? And your family?’

Demos’s face shuttered. ‘Do not ask that of me,’ he answered. There was anguish in his voice, and guilt—Leandra could not press him. He had burdens of his own to carry. One day he would be able to set them down, but not now, she knew. He was not ready.

Instead, she asked another question.

‘Demos, when is your grandfather likely to go back to Athens?’

The shadowed look in his eyes intensified.

‘I am not sure,’ he admitted. ‘Theo wants him to see a Harley Street specialist while he is in London.’

‘Oh. Then what would you like me to do? What would be best?’

‘If you would be kind enough to stay here I would be most grateful, Leandra.’ There was entreaty in Demos’s voice.

She smiled reassuringly. ‘Of course, if that is what you want. I can hardly complain about the standard of my accommodation! I’m in the lap of luxury here! And I’m happy to help out if there’s anything I can do. There’s a saying in English—in for a penny, in for a pound!’ She tapped at the page of her script with a grin. ‘But I’ll drive a hard bargain, my young Greek millionaire! Back to work!’

He pored over the words with her, heads together. Suddenly she gave a laugh. Her amber eyes gleamed wickedly.

‘Oh, if your cousin could see us now! He’d never believe it! Never!’

Remembering the look of unveiled contempt in Theo Atrides’s eyes as he looked her over like a piece of sex-trash, she felt a sharp sense of satisfaction.

It was a beautiful day, even for central London. The mild, sunny autumn weather was still holding. Leandra swung down the Edgware Road, her body pleasantly tired and stretched from her dance class in Paddington. Acting was hard work. London heaved with struggling actresses, and competition for parts was fierce. Still, acting was what she had always wanted to do, and her very staid parents had been happy enough for her to work it out of her system—as they’d been sure she would within a few years.

Her eyes shadowed, grief showing in them briefly. Their death in a coach crash on holiday had been so sudden, so brutal. Even now, nearly two years later, the memory was like a knife in her breast.

Chris had been so kind to her, proving a true friend, taking her under his wing and looking after her while she was raw with grief and shock. No wonder she hadn’t hesitated when he had asked her for a favour for Demos.

The blare of a car horn made her jump. The Edgware Road was clogged with traffic, and she was still quite some way from Demos’s Mayfair apartment. She made an inward grimace. She would miss that fabulous apartment all right! Going back to her tiny studio flat on a noisy road south of the Thames—all she could afford at London property prices, even with the legacy from her parents—was not something she was looking forward to. For the first time she could understand why women would agree to exchange their self-respect for such a luxurious lifestyle.

Her amber eyes darkened. That was exactly the kind of woman Theo Atrides thought her—that much was obvious. The kind who latched on to men just because they were rich! Not for the first time she felt a stab of anger at him. Oh, she would love to see him eat his words! ‘Delicious morsel of female flesh’ indeed!

She should not have recalled them to mind. For with them came an image of the man saying them—tall, powerful, those dark, heavy-lidded eyes making her stomach flip over slowly, oh, so slowly as her legs turned to jelly…

Someone brushed past her on the crowded pavement. Automatically she moved to one side, and then, just at the same time, someone brushed her from that side as well. She glanced either way, frowning suddenly. London was safe enough on the whole, if you were sensible, but muggings happened all the time. She clutched at her shoulder bag more tightly, but even as she did so she felt her body crowded from both sides.

It happened so quickly. One moment she was being hustled on the wide pavement and the next, in broad daylight, on a busy London road, two men had caught her by either elbow, pulled her forward and then, before she could scream, she was being thrust into the gaping interior of a huge black-windowed limousine that was suddenly there, pulled up at the kerb. The door slammed behind her. Her head was tilted forcibly back, a pad pressed over her nose and mouth. Her eyes flared in terror and then, as the drug sucked into her gasping lungs, fluttered helplessly shut as consciousness drained away.

‘Well, did he tell you how long I’ve got?’

Milo’s voice was harsh, but Theo could hear the exhaustion in it. Milo was tough, but age was finally taking its toll.

‘Six, maybe nine months. A year if you are spectacularly fortunate.’

Theo did not mince his words. He would not be thanked if he did.

Milo’s eyes gleamed fiercely. ‘Hah! Long enough to see a great-grandson on the way!’

Theo looked out of the window of the chauffeur-driven limo. They were nosing down Harley Street. Traffic was bad. Rush hour was all around them.

He did not answer his grandfather. Instead, he said, ‘He wants to put you on a different drug regime. Says it could buy you time. He wants to start you straight away, but he’ll need to monitor you for a week or two to see how you respond. You don’t need to be in hospital. So I’ve taken the suite for another fortnight. I’ll stay with you, naturally.’

His grandfather gave a rasp. ‘Not in that damned hotel, you won’t! And neither will I. We’ll stay at the apartment. I want to see more of Demos anyway!’

Theo frowned. ‘The girl is still there. I haven’t had a chance to buy her off yet!’

Milo gave a harsh laugh.

‘Save your money. She’s been dealt with.’

Theo’s head swivelled.

‘I said I’d handle it—’

‘Well, I’ve saved you the trouble. And my way was a whole lot cheaper! And more certain.’

‘What do you mean?’ Theo’s words were slow, filled with foreboding. ‘What have you done?’

Milo looked at his grandson with grim satisfaction.

‘She’s gone,’ he said. ‘She was in the way, so I had her removed.’

Cold snaked down Theo’s spine.

‘What…exactly…have you done with her?’

Milo gave another harsh bark of laughter.

‘Don’t look at me as if I’d had her murdered! She’s perfectly safe. Sunning herself on a beach.’

Theo’s brows drew together.

‘She agreed to go on holiday?’ He sounded sceptical.

‘I didn’t waste time asking her. I just sent her!’

The cold snaked down Theo’s spine again.

‘You sent her? How? Where?’

‘How? I had her picked up and packed off. I had a tail put on her when she left Demos’s apartment this morning. She was put in a car, kept quiet, driven to an airfield and that was that. Don’t look at me like that, boy! I’m not incapable yet! I know agencies who will do such things and be discreet about it!’

But his grandson was staring at him with an appalled look on his face.

‘Are you telling me,’ he said, his voice hollow, ‘that you had her abducted?’

Milo made a testy noise in his throat. ‘I had her removed! That’s all! She’s perfectly safe—I told you!’

A word escaped Theo that was not in polite usage.

‘Where?’ he demanded urgently. ‘Where is she, Milo?’

His grandfather gave his harsh laugh again.

‘So eager to find her?’ he jeered. ‘Maybe you do want to replace Demos between her legs!’

Theo ignored the crude jibe. The cold had spread from his spine through every part of his body. Had Milo gone insane? Had he really had a British citizen abducted from the streets of London and flown out of the country?

‘Where is she?’

Milo’s eyes flashed. ‘Don’t take that tone with me! She’s on that hideaway island of yours. The one you take your own pillow-friends to!’

Theo’s eyes stabbed black fire.

‘What?’

Milo gave another snort. ‘Hah, did you think I did not know of the place? Of course I knew! But if you want to keep a place like that to yourself, who am I to interfere? A man wants to be private when he communes with Eros. I respect that. So you see—’ he sounded well pleased with himself ‘—Demos’s little tart will be perfectly at home there. She can improve her tan and pretty herself up for her next protector. And by the time I let her off the island Demos and Sofia will be engaged!’

He cast a triumphant look at his grandson, still staring at him appalled.

‘Cheaper than a pay-off, and far more certain.’

‘With only one slight downside.’ Theo’s voice was hollow. ‘Abduction is a criminal offence.’

How Theo got through the next twenty-four hours he didn’t afterwards remember. Milo, utterly oblivious of what he had done, had had to be taken back to the hotel. Then Theo had to confront a frantic Demos who had realised, when he returned to his apartment from his office, that Leandra seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

‘Milo did what?’

Demos had gone white.

‘She’s safe, Demos. That much is clear.’ Theo spoke tersely.

‘I’m going out there right away!’

Theo caught his shoulder. ‘No! I will deal with it.’

Demos glared at him accusingly. Theo could read his thoughts. He shook his head. His smile was grim. ‘Even I have my limits, little cousin.’ For a moment they looked into each other’s eyes. Theo had been like a big brother to Demos all his life.

‘Trust me,’ said Theo, holding his cousin’s stricken gaze. ‘You stay here and take care of Milo. Right now—’ he inhaled sharply ‘—I don’t want to be too close to him!’ He shook his head. ‘I knew he was desperate, but to commit such an act! He seems to have absolutely no idea of what he’s done!’

Grimly, Theo knew that if he couldn’t find a way to silence the girl she might drag the Atrides name through the criminal courts. Milo could even be facing a jail sentence.

As for what the press would make of it…

He snapped his mind away. His hand squeezed on Demos’s shoulder.

‘Trust me,’ he said again, and took his leave.

But even then his problems hadn’t been over. The Atrides jet had been stranded on the tarmac. UK airspace had been in chaos—the air traffic control system had gone down again. It wasn’t until well into the next day that Theo had finally been able to get airborne.

Then, when he’d landed in Athens, he’d found Sofia’s father, Yannakis Allessandros, had heard the Atrides jet was due and assumed it was Demos at last. Calming a justifiably exasperated Yannakis, and trying to assure him that Demos’s continued absence was not an insufferable slight to his patiently waiting daughter, had taken yet more precious time.

The next blow had been to discover that the Atrides corporate helicopter stationed at Athens had developed a fault, and the others were scattered at other locations on various company business. Hiring a replacement he proposed to pilot himself—the fewer people who knew about Leandra Ross’s illicit presence on his island the better!—had meant having his own pilot documentation exhaustively vetted by a helicopter company extremely nervous of letting the head of one of the country’s largest companies fly and possibly crash himself.

By the time he finally headed east out to sea the bright Mediterranean sun was low in the sky and Theo Atrides was in the worst mood he’d been in for a very, very long time.

Leandra sat on a rock, the sunlight pounding down on her. She stared doggedly out into the blinding sky, constantly scanning the heavens, then dipping back to the horizon again.

Her face was set, skin stretched tight. Her head ached.

In her stomach, fear coiled like a snake.

She had surfaced earlier that day to discover, through her drugged and groggy senses, that she was lying on a bed in a cool, shady room. Although there were few furnishings, it was very luxurious. The large double bed she’d been lying on was covered by an exquisite hand-stitched quilt, and the furniture was dark wood with an antique patina.

Her terror had been absolute. She’d fought for memory.

There was a car. I was pushed inside. Everything went black…

Fear had crammed in her throat. She’d staggered to her feet, lurching towards French windows dimmed with wooden slatted blinds. She had pulled them open. Beyond was a terrace, flooded with sunlight much brighter than it could ever be in England at this time of year. And the scent of flowers was wrong for England—heady and pungent, coming from fragrant blooms tumbling out of ceramic pots. She had lifted her eyes further forward. Beyond the terrace was vegetation—Mediterranean vegetation—and beyond she’d glimpsed bright azure sea.

The house she had emerged from seemed to be built as a long, low series of rooms, one after another, their French windows all closed. Then, suddenly, those of the room at the end of the terrace, where it ended in a vine-shaded patio, had opened, and an elderly woman had come out. She was dressed in black and carrying a bucket and mop.

She’d seen Leandra and nodded her head, smiling. She had set her things down and made some gestures with her hands, clearly ushering Leandra into the room.

Suddenly it had dawned on Leandra where she must be.

Greece! I’m in Greece!

And if she were in Greece, there could be only one reason why…

Demos. This had something to do with Demos Atrides. It had to—it just had to.

Emotions had coursed through her. One, she knew, was relief. At the back of her mind a dark, hideous fear had been lurking, that she had been abducted and taken away to be white slaved to the Middle East, or worse…

But why had Demos brought her here? And by such extreme means? She wanted answers—fast!

‘Demos?’ she croaked.

But the woman only smiled and nodded, and made those movements with her hands again. With chilling realisation Leandra understood. The woman was deaf; she was signing.

A bubble of hysteria beaded in Leandra’s throat. There was no way she could communicate in sign language with a deaf Greek woman! Then, as a wave of faintness washed over her, the woman was taking her arm and gently guiding her inside the room, sitting her down on a large, soft sofa in front of an empty stone fireplace.

Leandra shut her eyes in confusion and faintness, only to open them again a few minutes later when the woman brought in a tray of food. Hunger clawed in her stomach, and she fell to, swiftly devouring the delicious freshly made bread and soup, washing it down with hot coffee.

A magazine on the lower shelf of the coffee table caught her eye. It was a fashion magazine in Cyrillic. More relief washed through her. She was definitely in Greece and this must definitely have something to do with Demos! But where was he?

She combed the villa. It wasn’t large, and it didn’t take long to realise the only person in it other than herself was the elderly housekeeper. Fighting back fear, Leandra headed off outside. Demos had to be somewhere!

The grounds consisted of an attractively landscaped Mediterranean-style garden, with no lawn but a lot of little stone-paved paths and beautifully tended plants and shrubs. Olive trees were dotted here and there, perhaps remnants of an original olive grove. Instinctively she headed towards the sea, making her way down a little stone path until she emerged some few minutes later on to the edge of a perfect crescent beach.

Leandra stopped dead. It was absolutely exquisite! Gentle waves broke on golden sand. On either side of the beach the land curved protectively, white gleaming limestone brilliant in the sun.

Looking back, she glanced towards the little villa, half hidden by the olive trees.

It was a gem of a place! Very private, very rustic, but with a simplicity that caught at the heart as much as the eye.

But of Demos there was no sign.

Apart from the housekeeper the only other human being was an elderly man watering plants, who must be her husband—and from the way he would only sign to her Leandra realised that he too was deaf.

Her face tightened and she felt fear claw at her again. Instinctively she skirted around the villa, determined to make her way to a public highway and thence to a village or taverna with a phone she could call London from and find out what on earth was going on! At least she had her purse with her, and somewhere she must be able to change money.

She halted dead. She could see no entrance to the villa, no drive leading to a public roadway. Nothing.

The grounds just seemed to stretch on, rising slightly as the contours of the land led gently upwards. She found a pathway and set off. Maybe she could cut across land and find a road further inland. There must be some sort of traffic passing, however remote this villa was. Judging by the absolute silence—not the hint of a sound of traffic, even from far away—it must be pretty remote, Leandra found herself thinking worriedly.

Resolutely she went on, gaining the top of the rise. She paused and looked down. There, below, nestled close to the beach, was the little villa. Beyond it she could see a flat, bare area of ground, the modern metal-framed hangar and windsock declaring it to be a helipad. Just below the helipad was a small cove, with a stone jetty and boathouse, but no sign of a boat. To the front of the villa was the beach, a secret jewel. She swept her eye past the beach, bringing it round to the opposite direction. The sea went with her.

She went on sweeping her head round—and still the sea was visible.

As she completed her three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn Leandra felt her insides dissolve.

There was sea visible in every direction.

As she stilled, like a statue frozen in disbelief, the truth hit her.

She was on an island.

Theo closed the throttle and cut the rotors. He’d landed. Finally.

As he shut down the controls with routine expertise he glanced out of the helicopter, sliding off his headphones as he did so.

The girl was there waiting for him.

He’d seen her running towards the helipad as he’d made his descent, alerted by the racket the rotors made which was audible all over the island, he knew.

He glowered balefully in her direction. What an infernal mess this was! Cheaper than paying the girl to leave Demos? Theo snorted. It was going to cost an arm and a leg to sweeten her after her ordeal! And if she chose to press charges…

Sweat pricked beneath the collar of Theo’s business suit. He wanted a shower, and a long, cold beer.

He slid the door back and stepped out on to the ground. There was no way he was flying back to Athens tonight. The chopper would need refuelling, for a start, and night was coming on. Besides, he was tired.

Tired physically and mentally.

And his temper was on a knife-edge.

He just hoped the girl wasn’t the hysterical type. She must have been frightened by what had happened to her, he found himself thinking as he slid the door to and headed across to her. She was standing very still.

Theo hoped she wasn’t going to start weeping and wailing all over him.

He hated that in a woman.

As he drew closer, walking with his customary rapid stride, it dawned on him that if he hadn’t known it was Leandra Ross standing there he’d never have recognised her.

The clinging sex kitten was gone. Her lush, slender body, which had been so lavishly on show the other evening, was now almost completely concealed by a sweatshirt and jeans. Her glorious blond hair was pinned haphazardly on her head and her face was completely free of make-up. Yet she was still a stunner.

As he approached he felt his body responding. She had an unconscious grace, standing there, so very motionless—poised almost, he thought, like a nymph of mythical Greece, sighted by Apollo, or Dionysus, or any one of the Olympians in a mood for dalliance, deciding whether to flee from the approaching god or yield to his desire…

Again, just as it had at the gala, the vision that leapt in his mind was vivid. He saw her caught by his restraining arms, drawn close against him, so soft against his hardness, pressing her pliant body against him…

Brusquely he quelled the thought. It was an irrelevance. She was simply a complication—a deadly, dangerous complication now, thanks to Milo!—and she had to be neutralised as soon as possible. That was all.

He stopped in front of her.