Читать книгу The Mediterranean Millionaire's Mistress - Maggie Cox, Maggie Cox - Страница 6

WHEN he’d seen his father’s favourite yacht, Evangeline, moored as regally as a queen in the picturesque harbour, amongst other well-known cruisers belonging to the wealthy Athenians who inhabited the tight-knit monied world of the Rosakis family, Lysander’s heart had truly sunk.

It could not be mere coincidence that his father had decided to visit the island at the same time that his only son was taking a break there. Therefore, Leonidas Rosakis had to want something of him. Last year he had almost lost his life when he’d contracted pneumonia, but mercifully he had rallied, and ever since that time he’d seemed to be on a mission to control his only son’s destiny even more. His main concern, of course, was the future of the shipping business that had made his family’s fortune, and his brush with death had heightened that concern to an almost obsessive degree.

Now, as Lysander boarded the wide steps leading to the main deck, a white-shirted member of the yacht’s crew dipping his head deferentially as he passed him, he found his thoughts racing ahead to Ianthe.

Last night after dinner, when he had walked her back to the small hotel where she was staying, he had but grazed her cheek with his lips as a kiss goodnight. But both he and she had registered the intensely electrical reaction that their contact had ignited, as though their bodies had been plugged into a generator. Ianthe had looked startled and wide-eyed as he’d drawn away, and Lysander had had to hold his burning desire in painful check all the way home, the memory of her warm skin beneath his lips arousing his senses into almost a crescendo of powerful need.

What did she possess that held him in such extraordinary sensual thrall? When he had first met his wife he had found her astonishing beauty alluring, but he could not honestly recall almost wanting to crawl out of his skin with the need to possess her…as he did with Ianthe.

She had agreed to meet him in about half an hour’s time at the harbour, where Lysander had arranged for one of the locals to take them to an outlying private cove to picnic and sunbathe. Nikos was discreet and would not repeat any conversation he might overhear to anyone else…Lysander would not have hired him otherwise.

Now, as he forced himself to think about why his father’s yacht should be here in the harbour, he made his way hurriedly past the formal dining room into the main salon, where he guessed he would find the man in question. Unable to deny his impatience to bring their coming encounter to an abrupt and swift end, all Lysander wanted to do was return to the waterside taverna where he had suggested Ianthe wait for him.

Leonidas Rosakis lived up to the leonine connotations of his name. There was no doubt about that. An inch over six feet tall, he was still a formidable-looking man, even though he had recently been cut down by illness. He was the proud owner of an enviable head of abundant silver hair, and had a presence that could easily impinge authority and awe on the very air around him. Yet at the same time he was not so much lion as pussycat with his two young grandchildren, the offspring of Lysander’s sister Evadne, and could be as tender as he liked when he chose.

Right now, as Lysander approached the huge oak desk that practically took up one complete wall of the stately salon, his father threw him a glance that was anything but tender. Old resentments deeply held surfaced, and he had to swallow hard to clear the tension already building inside his throat.

‘What are you doing here, Father? I only saw you in Athens a few days ago.’

‘Such a cold greeting from my only son!’ Leonidas intoned dramatically in his deep belljar of a voice. ‘What have I done to deserve such disdain?’

Releasing an impatient sigh, Lysander tunnelled his fingers restlessly through his hair, instinctively knowing that he had a royal battle on his hands when it came to controlling his temper around his father.

‘I do not demonstrate disdain so much as irritation that you should show up here, when you know only too well that I needed to get away from Athens and be by myself for a while…without any interference from the family!’

‘You call fatherly concern interference? Shame on you, Lysander! You should know me better than that.’

‘I know you only too well, Father…. That is why I do not entirely trust your motives for being here. What is it you want of me? Are you unwell again? Do you want me to speak with your doctors?’

‘First you break my heart with your caustic admission of distrust, then you enquire about my health!’ Shaking his great leonine head, Leonidas sighed deeply, as if enduring a terrible wound. He walked round his desk so that he stood a scant foot away from his handsome, if somewhat suspicious-looking, son.

‘Actually, I have some good news for you. Some very good news that I hope will put a more—shall we say amenable expression on that scowling face of yours!’

Immediately alert, Lysander swept his blue eyes over his father’s now smiling visage with a sudden wave of presentiment flooding through his insides. ‘Good news’ was subjective when it came to Rosakis family dealings…especially where Leonidas, the undoubted patriarch, was concerned. It was only natural, going on past experience, that Lysander should view it with suspicion.

‘What is this good news you have to tell me, then? Tell me quickly, so that I can be about my business and return to my vacation.’

The old man’s smile wavered just a fraction on his indomitable face. Leonidas gave the distinct impression that he was choosing the words he was about to use particularly carefully—picking them like prize cherries out of a tree. He and his son did not always see eye to eye, but at that moment Leonidas was praying hard that his imminent announcement would fall on far more receptive ears than, unfortunately, he suspected they might.

‘I saw an old friend I hadn’t seen for years yesterday…’He paused, calculating the impression his words were making so far on Lysander, but his son’s expression remained infuriatingly blank and unreadable. ‘Takis Koumanidis. We went to school together. Remember—I told you about him?’

Lysander responded with a very brief, almost imperceptible flash of acknowledgement in his guarded blue eyes. ‘Last year he took over…’ He mentioned the well-known name of one of the most illustrious shipping lines—a name that Lysander realised immediately his father would love the opportunity to merge with at the very least. He instantly felt the tension across his back and shoulders grip harder—like a band of iron almost bending him in two. What was the old trickster up to now?

‘That’s right. Now, do you remember he had a daughter? Well, Electra is now twenty-two and, having met her at dinner last night with Takis, I can report to you that she is a girl of exceptional beauty and intellect. She has been educated at the best schools in Paris and Rome and has exquisite taste in almost everything. Takis was telling me how she longs to settle down and have a family, but sadly as yet she has not met the right man. I could not help but think that you would be perfect for her, Lysander. It has been over two years since your wife died…long enough for you to start thinking about marrying again. I would like you to come back to Athens on Saturday and meet her. When I told her all about you she was much interested. “Intrigued” was the word I believe she used…’

Clenching his jaw to try and contain the slow-burning rage that was gathering momentum inside him like an electrical storm about to wreak havoc, Lysander stared at his father with the bitterness of profound anger and dismay rising like bile inside his throat. Releasing a violent expletive out loud, he strode impatiently to the opposite end of the luxurious salon and back again in a bid to control his rapidly escalating temper.

His suspicions had been right. If only for once in his life where his father was concerned Lysander could have been proved wrong. If only Leonidas had just once demonstrated even the remotest understanding of what his only son had gone through, then the rift between them might have started to mend. But, as it was, Leonidas seemed to dismiss the hurtful events of Lysander’s recent past with astonishing ease.

There had been no acknowledgement of the devastating emotional onslaught and grief he had endured. He had married, for his father’s sake, a woman whose alluring looks and falsely loving demeanour had deceived him as to the true nature of her character, who had cruelly betrayed him not once, but twice. And then, just when they had been trying to rescue the jagged pieces from the inevitable wreckage of their declining relationship and Marianna had become pregnant, both she and their expected son had lost their lives.

If his father had expressed sympathy for all that, had ever apologised or even acknowledged his own part in making the disastrous marriage, then Lysander could have forgiven him almost anything. But his father’s approach to his son’s distress had been shockingly pragmatic and unemotional. And now here it was again. He should just put his appalling marriage, Marianna’s death and the demise of his unborn child aside and go headlong into another arranged dynastic marriage so that he could have an heir.

Lysander was ready to explode at the fact that the old man was trying to inveigle him into a marriage of convenience with the daughter of a fellow shipping magnate. He could see the old man’s point, of course. It would be a merger that would not only unite two exceedingly powerful and wealthy families, but would turn their mutual assets into an even more formidable force to be reckoned with in the business world.

And never mind what the personal cost would be…

‘You are unbelievable—do you know that? How dare you even raise the subject of my potential remarriage? You are well aware that I am still grieving for my lost child, as well as dealing with the aftermath of a marriage that destroyed my faith in that doubtful institution ever again! Let me be perfectly clear about this once and for all. I am not remotely interested in meeting the daughter of your so-called old friend, either socially or for any other reason, and neither am I interested in remarrying! I have been through the fires of hell, Father, and I would not wish the experience on my worst enemy. But all you can think about is the profit to be made!’

‘Show some respect where it is due, Lysander, and do not speak to me as though I was the dirt beneath your feet! I only have your best interests at heart. I only ever have your best interests at heart. Do you think it pleases me to see you a mere shadow of the vital young man you were, not interested in either the business or the family? All right, so you may not be ready to enter into another marriage, but you could at least meet Takis’s daughter, couldn’t you? What would it hurt? You would have someone pretty to take out to dinner once in a while at least, instead of spending all your free time dabbling in that ridiculous hobby of yours!’

Reluctantly returning to the big leather chair behind his impressive desk, Leonidas lowered himself into it with apparent difficulty, a spasm of pain crossing his face as he finally seated himself. Lysander could not help the answering jolt of deep concern inside his own chest. But at the same time he was furious with his father for disparagingly referring to his photography as a ‘ridiculous hobby’. The truth was, nothing was as important or compelling to Leonidas Rosakis as the family shipping business, and he simply could not fathom why Lysander should not feel the same.

‘Are you all right? Shall I call someone?’ he asked reluctantly, biting back the fresh wave of anger that engulfed him as he studied his father’s distressed face.

Leonidas gestured him impatiently away. ‘I am fine—if a little aggrieved by your hard-hearted attitude to my honest concern for your future welfare. Why can’t you just come back to Athens on Saturday and have dinner with your mother and me?’

And Takis Koumanidis and his ‘beautiful’ and ‘intrigued’ daughter Electra, no doubt.

Lysander shook his head firmly. ‘I’m on vacation and I have no desire to return to Athens until my vacation is at an end. You will just have to entertain your friends without me.’

‘Very well, then. Go. But at least ring your mother at the house and let her know you are all right, eh? All she ever does these days is fret about you, Lysander. And if you should get a little bored with snapping your pictures, then do me the honour of coming home for dinner on Saturday after all, yes? You can go straight back to the island afterwards, and I will leave you in peace for the rest of your vacation. I promise.’