Читать книгу Greek Mavericks: At The Greek's Pleasure - Maisey Yates - Страница 16
ОглавлениеBY THE TIME the car pulled back up to Apollo’s house later that evening he was in a violent temper. Elle had done exactly as he had demanded and had danced with every businessman within fifteen years of her age. And she had charmed every single one of them. She had no doubt delighted the media.
She had done exactly as he’d asked, and he was incensed. Spending the evening not touching her had been akin to torture. But he was ready to move ahead with their agreement. He was ready to claim her. To remind her exactly why she was here, and who she was with.
They had not spoken in the car on the way back to his villa. She was vibrating with indignation next to him, but he didn’t care.
When they got out of the car and walked into the house he turned to her. “I want you to go to your room and open up the top drawer of the bureau there. You will find some other items that my staff has procured for you. Make yourself ready for me.”
He stormed off to his office then, pouring himself a glass of scotch and downing it in one desperate gulp, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat.
He paced the length of the room, trying to figure out exactly what happened to make him so agitated.
Jealousy.
He could not remember the last time he had ever felt jealous. If he ever had.
He closed his eyes, allowing an old memory to wash over him. Hell, the bikini. Yes, he had been jealous then in a strange way. Of the fact that she was young, with her entire life ahead of her. Of the fact that men had not yet discovered her, and he would not be a part of that discovery. He would have given everything to have been the first man to touch her. To have been the one to awaken her sensuality. Her every sigh, her every moan.
To have been the one who gave her that first climax.
Yes, he would have given anything to be that man at one time. He had been jealous then. Of a man who had not existed. And somehow tonight every man who had danced with her had become one of those nameless, faceless men who had come before him.
He hated them, even without knowing who they were.
He tossed his suit jacket onto the floor, stalking out of his office and going up the stairs toward her bedroom. She had better damn well be ready for him. Because he was not waiting another moment.
He threw open the bedroom door without knocking, and she turned to face him, still wearing the dress she had been wearing to the gala.
“I thought I gave you instructions to change,” he said.
Her green eyes glittered with anger. “Yes,” she said. “You did. But I have no desire to dress up like some strange interpretation of a fantasy that you have, brought about by your magnanimous staff.”
“Expensive underthings offend you?”
“The idea that I might not want to choose my own? The idea that I might be interchangeable with any of the other women you consort with? That offends me.”
“What do any of my other lovers have to do with this?”
“Everything. You are treating me exactly as you would any of them.”
He clenched his hands into fists, his heart beating so fast it burned. “And you want to be special? Is that it?”
Her cheeks flamed. “I don’t want to be the same. I don’t want to be just one warm body of any of the ones you could have.”
“Still you doubt my desire for you?” He undid another button on his shirt, then another, stripping it off as he walked toward her, feeling every inch a predatory animal. “What must I do to show you that I am your servant, agape? What must I do to show you that you own my body?”
The color heightened in her cheeks. “I own your body?”
“Do you think I want this? Do you think I want to be a slave to the desire I have for a St. James? If you think you hate me then just imagine how much I hate you. Your family. Your family name. Everything you stand for.”
His words were coming out hard and fast. He was saying more than he had intended. He had never intended to bring this up with her at all. Had not intended to speak any of this to her until he was giving her her marching orders and ordering her to pack her things and vacate her office. He had not intended to reveal any of this until he’d unleashed his ultimate betrayal on to her.
But he couldn’t stop it now. He could not stop himself. “If any woman at the party tonight had made me feel even a fraction of what I feel for you I would have taken her into the nearest hallway and pushed her skirt up. Sadly, I only respond to you. You have me on a leash, Elle. I hope you are happy with this revelation.”
Her eyes were round, her lips parted slightly. “I don’t understand. You were part of our family. How can you possibly feel that way?”
“Easily. You don’t understand what manner of man your father is, you don’t understand what manner of man I am. When you were seventeen years old, parading around the family estate in your bikini, I would have liked nothing more than to put you flat on your back. I was a man of twenty, and I would have had you, sweet little virgin that you were. And even knowing how wrong that is, I hate every man who came before me. I regret not taking you then. Such wasted years, Elle. I could have rid myself of my hunger for you then. But I didn’t. For what reason? To preserve some semblance of a conscience we both know I don’t have? Pointless. But then, I still harbored illusions that I might be good.”
“I... You wanted me then?”
“Did you not know? Of course not. You were blind. A little virgin.”
“Stop saying that. I wasn’t ignorant. It’s just that you seemed angry...not...”
“As it always is with us.”
“Either way, I’m not ignorant.”
“Did I have the wrong end of it then? Please don’t tell me you weren’t already experienced or I truly will hang myself for being so foolish that I didn’t have you.”
“Why are you acting like this?”
He didn’t know. He damn well had no clue. All he knew was that he was enraged. Over tonight. The other men who’d touched her. The orders she was refusing to obey. Over his behavior nine years ago. Over his behavior now. “Why are you refusing to wear the lingerie I provided for you?”
“Because I will not be one of your whores,” she said. “Because I was a virgin when you had me at your hotel room. Your jealousy is misplaced while mine is certainly not.”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. “A virgin?”
“Apparently it matters to you. Apparently you are quite proprietary and possessive, though you have not earned the right to be.”
He growled, pulling her into his arms, grabbing hold of the sides of the delicate fabric of the dress and wrenching it down over her shoulders, tugging the bodice down low, revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze. “I am the only man to ever have you?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice breathless.
“This pleases me much more than it should,” he said, gripping her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face up to him. “All during the ride back to the villa I was contemplating the different ways I could kill each and every man who danced with you. In my mind, they had become your previous lovers. And I discovered that I felt rather violent about them. About the missed opportunity I’d had. You see, I wanted to be the one to teach you about pleasure.”
She bit her lip, as though she were holding back a litany of words. Either curses, or the confirmation that he had indeed been the one to teach her about pleasure. He had a feeling she neither wanted to yell at him at this moment nor give him anything pleasant to latch onto.
“I did teach you about pleasure, didn’t I? Against the wall in a hotel room. Dammit, Elle, you didn’t tell me.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
No. It made no difference at all. Not to anything. Not to what had gone before, and not to what he must do now. The fact that Elle had been a virgin changed nothing. She had been innocent of the wrongdoings of her father before he knew that, and she was innocent of them now. The fact he was her only lover might fill him with a sense of masculine pride, a sense of conquest, but it didn’t change the fact that he would betray her in the end. That he would make an example of her and use her to wound her father.
The way her father had wounded his father. The way he had devastated his mother. The way he had devastated Apollo himself.
Whatever sins his father had committed, the rest of them had been nothing more than collateral damage. And so would Elle be. It was not fair. But none of this was fair.
It wasn’t about fairness. It was about justice in the way that only he could obtain it.
“Yes,” he lied. “It would have made a difference. I would have been much gentler with you.” Except he knew he would not have. He would not take that fiery encounter in the hotel room back for anything. When Elle had unleashed all her rage on him. All of her desire. It had been the most singular experience of his life. He would trade it for nothing. It was a moment that belonged to him, one that could not be stolen no matter how low he sunk.
He was a villain, and now, he was embracing it fully.
He leaned in, kissing her, keeping it soft, keeping it light. She grabbed hold of his face, deepening the kiss.
He picked her up, carrying her to the bed and laying her down on the soft mattress, tugging the gown from her body. There would be no more talking tonight.
If he had his way, there would be no more talking until he was through with her. And if that meant spending the next two weeks in bed, then they would spend the next two weeks in bed.
