Читать книгу Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4 - Кэтти Уильямс, Maisey Yates, Cathy Williams - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

BUT FATE HAD a habit of screwing things up when you least expected it and three things happened in rapid succession which made Jessica regret her decision to walk away from Loukas Sarantos and his job offer. Her washing machine packed up, her car died, and then Hannah had her wallet stolen while swimming off a beach in Thailand.

Jessica’s first thought had been sheer panic when she’d heard the teenager’s choking tears on the other end of the line, until she started thinking how much worse it could have been. And once her fears had calmed down to a manageable level, she felt nothing but frustration. But it was a wake-up call and the series of unexpected expenses forced her to take a cold, hard look at her finances and to face up to them with a sinking feeling of inevitability. Was she really deluded enough to think she could manage to live by selling a few framed pieces of embroidery? Why, that would barely cover the electricity bill.

She stood at the window, watching the white plume of the waves crashing down over the rocky beach. There were alternatives, she knew that. She could sell this house and move somewhere without a lusted-after sea view, which added so much money to the property’s value. But this was her security. Her rock. When they’d had to sell their childhood home, this had become a place of safety to retreat to when chaos threatened and she hadn’t planned on leaving it any time soon. Especially now. She’d read somewhere that young people were left feeling rootless and insecure if the family home was sold when they went off to college. How could she possibly do that to Hannah, who had already lost so much in her short life?

She thought about what Loukas had said to her, his words both a threat and a promise.

I won’t wait long.

She picked up the phone and dialled the number before she had a chance to change her mind and asked to speak him. He’s probably no longer interested, she thought, her heart pounding loudly. I’ve probably offended his macho pride by making him wait.

‘Jess.’ His deep voice fired into her thoughts and sent them scattering.

‘Loukas?’ she questioned stupidly, because who else could make her shiver with erotic recall, just by saying her name?

‘I’d like to say that this is a surprise,’ he said softly. ‘But it isn’t. I’ve been waiting for your call, although it hasn’t come as quickly as I would have expected.’ There was a pause. ‘What do you want?’

Jessica closed her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted—was he going to make her crawl in order to get it? She opened them again and saw another wave crash down onto the rocks. Maybe she was going to have to swallow her pride—but that didn’t mean she needed to fall to the ground and lick his boots.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said and on reflection...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘On reflection, it does seem too good an opportunity to turn down. So I’ve decided to accept the offer—if it’s still on the table.’

At the other end of the line Loukas clenched and unclenched his free hand, because her cool response frustrated him far more than her opposition had done. He liked her when she was fighting and fiery, because fire he could easily extinguish. Making ice melt was different—that took much longer—and he had neither the time nor the inclination to make his seduction of Jessica Cartwright into a long-term project. She was just another tick on the list he was working his way down. His heart clenched with bitterness even while his body clenched with lust. She was something unfinished he needed to file away in the box marked ‘over’. He wanted her body. To sate himself until he’d had his fill. And then he wanted to walk away and forget her.

‘Loukas,’ she was saying, her voice reminding him of all the erotic little things she used to whisper. She had been an incredibly quick learner, he remembered, his groin hardening uncomfortably. His innocent virgin had quickly become the most sensual lover he’d ever known.

‘Loukas, are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ he said unevenly. ‘And we need to talk.’

‘We’re talking now.’

‘Not like this. Face to face.’

‘But I thought...’

Her voice tailed off and Loukas realised that he liked the heady kick of power which her uncertainty gave him. Suddenly he wanted her submissive. He wanted to be the one calling all the shots, as once she had called them. ‘What did you think, Jess?’ he questioned softly. ‘That you wouldn’t need to see me again?’

He could hear her clearing her throat.

‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘I always deal with the advertising agency and the stylist—and the photographer, of course. That’s what usually happens.’

‘Well, you’re wrong. None of this is usual, because I am in charge now. I like a hands-on approach—and if the previous CEO had possessed any sense, he would have done the same. You need to meet with our new advertising agency and for that you need to be in London. I’ll have someone at Lulu book you into a hotel.’

‘Okay.’ She cleared her throat again. ‘When did you have in mind?’

‘As soon as possible. A car will be sent to pick you up this afternoon.’

‘That soon?’ Her voice sounded breathless. ‘You’re expecting me to be ready in a couple of hours?’

‘Are you saying you can’t? That you have other commitments?’

‘I might have,’ she stalled and something made her say it, though she wasn’t quite sure what. ‘I might have a date.’

There was a pause. ‘Then cancel it, koukla mou.’

As his words filtered down the line, Jessica froze, because even though it had been a long time since she’d heard it, the Greek term sounded thrillingly familiar. My doll. That was what it meant. Jessica bit her lip. He used to say it to her a lot, but never with quite such contempt. Once she had trembled with pleasure when he had whispered it into her ear but now the words seemed to mean different things. They seemed tinged with foreboding rather than affection.

‘And if I don’t?’ she questioned defiantly.

‘Why not take a little advice, mmm? Let’s not get this relationship off on a bad footing,’ he said. ‘Your initial refusal to cooperate irritated me but your game-playing is starting to irritate me even more. Don’t make the mistake of overestimating your own appeal, Jess—and don’t push me too far.’

‘And is that...’ she drew in a deep breath ‘...supposed to intimidate me?’

‘It’s supposed to make you aware of where we both stand.’

There was a pause and his voice suddenly changed gear. It became sultry and velvety. It sounded irresistible.

‘Do you really have a date tonight, Jess?’

She wanted to say yes—to tell him that some gorgeous man was coming round to take her out. A man who was carrying a big bunch of flowers and wearing a soppy grin on his face. And that after champagne and oysters, he would bring her back here and make mad, passionate love to her.

But the vision disintegrated before her eyes, because the thought of any man other than Loukas touching her left her cold. And how sad was that?

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t.’

‘Thavmassios.’ His voice dipped with satisfaction. ‘Then I will see you later. Oh, and make sure you bring your passport.’

‘What for?’

‘What do you think? The new team want to use an exotic location for the shoot,’ he said impatiently. ‘Just do it, will you, Jess? I don’t intend to run everything past you for your approval—that’s not how it works. It’s certainly not how I work.’

He terminated the connection and Jessica found herself listening frustratedly to a hollow silence. But there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to have to change her image, if that was what it took. She would accept the makeover and smile for the camera and do her best to hold onto her contract for as long as she could. But that was all she would do. She knew what else he wanted and that certainly wasn’t written into the deal.

She didn’t have to sleep with him.

She closed all the windows, turned off the heating and emptied the fridge and two hours later a sleek black limousine arrived to collect her, slowly negotiating its way along the narrow, unmade road which led to her house.

It felt disorientating to hand her bags to the uniformed driver and slide onto the back seat as the powerful vehicle pulled away. During the journey she tried to read but it was impossible to concentrate. Her mind kept taking her back to places she didn’t want to go—and the past was her biggest no-go destination. She stared out of the window and watched as the Cornish countryside gave way to Devon and found herself thinking about Loukas and the way he used to come and watch her practising, way before they’d got to know each other.

The public footpath used to cross right by their tennis court when she had lived at the big house, and she would look up with a fast-beating heart to find a dark and brooding figure standing there. It used to drive her father potty, but it was a public space and he could hardly order the Greek bodyguard away. Not that he would have dared try. Loukas Sarantos wasn’t the kind of man you would order to do anything. She’d been a bit scared of him herself. He had been so dark and effortlessly powerful, and the way she’d caught him looking at her legs had made her feel... It was difficult to put into words the way he’d made her feel. She had tried very hard to steer her thoughts away from him and to concentrate on the fact that she double-faulted every time he watched her.

‘He will destroy your career!’ her father had roared and Jessica had promised that she wouldn’t see him—though at that point he hadn’t even asked her out.

And then she’d run into him in the village when her father had taken his wife and Hannah up to London and Jessica had been given a rare day to herself. She hadn’t gone near a tennis ball all day and that had felt like a liberation in itself. She’d been feeling restless and rebellious and had wandered to the nearby shop to buy herself chocolate. Her hand had been hovering over the purple-wrapped bar when a deeply accented voice had said,

‘Do you really think you should?’

She had looked up into a pair of mocking black eyes and something had happened. It had felt like being touched by magic. As if her heart had caught fire. She didn’t remember what they’d said, only that he’d flirted with her and she’d flirted back in a way which had seemed to come as easily as breathing—because how could you not flirt with a man like Loukas? He had been exotic, different, edgy and enigmatic, but that hadn’t mattered. Nothing had mattered other than the urgent need to be near him.

She’d offered to show him the famous borehole which was set in the surrounding cliffs like the imprint of a giant cannonball. His stride had been longer than hers and she remembered the wind whipping her ponytail as they’d stared down into the dark hollow. He’d told her that it reminded him of the diamond mine owned by his Russian boss, but she hadn’t been particularly interested in hearing about diamonds. All she’d wanted was for him to kiss her, and he must have known that, because mid-sentence he’d stopped and and said, ‘Oh, so that’s what you want, is it, little Miss Tennis?’ And he had caught her in his arms and his dark head had moved slowly towards hers and she had been lost.

The kiss had sealed a deal she hadn’t realised they were making. Jessica had wanted to have sex with him instantly, but something had made her pull back. Because even though she’d wanted him very badly, instinct had told her that he was a man used to women falling at his feet and she should take it slowly. And somehow she had.

Two weeks had felt like an eternity before she’d let him take her virginity, and if part of her had wondered if all that sensual promise could possibly be met, she’d discovered that it could. Oh, it had. For someone who’d spent her life relying on her body to help her win, who had worked through all the pain and injuries, she had now discovered a completely different use for it. An intense pleasure which had made the rest of the world fade away. He had made her gasp. He had made her heart want to burst with joy. She had been hooked on sex and hooked on him.

They had snatched what moments they could and maybe the subterfuge had only added to the excitement. He’d told her his boss wouldn’t approve of their relationship and Jessica had known her father would have hit the roof if he’d known. But that hadn’t stopped her falling in love with Loukas, even though she would sooner have flown to the moon than showed it. Until the night when she’d blurted it out to him. She could remember even now the slow way he had smiled at her...

And then her father had found her contraceptive pills. Even now she cringed at the humiliating scene which had followed. She should have told him it was none of his business, but she had been barely eighteen and had spent her life being told what to do by someone for whom ambition had been everything. He had confronted Loukas. Told him he had taken advantage of his daughter, and had threatened to go to his boss. And what had Loukas done? She bit her lip, because even now it hurt to remember him squaring up his shoulders, as if he’d been just about to step into the fray. In a gruff and unfamiliar voice he had offered to marry her.

And her response? She had said no, because what else could she have said? She’d known he had only been asking her because he’d felt it was the right thing to do and she couldn’t bear to trap this proud man in a relationship he’d never intended. Had she been able to see the two of them together—even ten years down the line? No, she hadn’t. And if she was being honest, her career had been too important for her to want to risk it on the random throw of an emotional dice. She’d been working towards being a champion since she’d been four years old. Had she really been prepared to throw all that away because Loukas had been offering something out of a misplaced sense of duty?

But her heart had been breaking as she’d ended their affair, even though she’d known it was the right thing to do. She remembered the way he had looked at her, an expression of slowly dawning comprehension hardening his black eyes, before he had laughed. A low, bitter laugh—as if she had just confirmed something he’d already known.

She remembered the way she’d felt as he had turned his back on her and walked away—a clear bright pain which had seemed to consume her. That was the last time she’d seen him, until the moment she’d walked into the penthouse office at Lulu’s—a bodyguard no longer but an international tycoon. Jessica shook her head in slight disbelief. How on earth had he managed that?

The slowing pace of the traffic made her realise that they’d hit central London and that the limousine was drawing up outside the Vinoly Hotel, a place she’d never stayed in before. The company usually put her up in the infinitely larger Granchester whenever she was in London and she wondered why they’d sent her here.

The driver opened the door. ‘Mr Sarantos says to inform you that a suite has been booked in your name and that you are to order anything you need.’

Jessica nodded and walked into the interior of the plush hotel, whose foyer was dominated by a red velvet sofa in the shape of a giant pair of lips. A Perspex chair on a gilt chain was suspended from the ceiling and impossibly cool-looking young people in jeans and expensive jackets were sprawled around, drinking coffee and tapping away furiously on their laptops.

The receptionist smiled as she handed her a key card and an envelope. ‘This was delivered for you earlier,’ she said. ‘We hope you have a pleasant stay with us, Miss Cartwright. The valet will show you to your suite.’

Jessica didn’t have to look at the envelope to know who it was from. Her heart was racing as she recognised Loukas’s handwriting—bold and flowing and unlike any other she’d ever seen. She knew his education had been patchy. He’d taught himself to read and write, but had ended up at the age of seventeen without a single qualification, other than a driving licence. But that was pretty much all she knew because he had been notoriously tight-lipped about his childhood. A sombre look used to darken his face whenever she dared ask, so that in the end she gave up trying—because wasn’t it easier to grab at rainbows rather than chase after storms?

She waited until she was in her suite before opening the envelope, so intent on reading it that she barely noticed the stark decor of the room. Loukas’s message was fairly stark, too.

I trust you had a good journey. Meet me in the dining room downstairs at eight. In the wardrobe you will find a black dress. Wear it.

Jessica’s mouth dried. It was an explicit request which sounded almost sexual. Had that been his intention? Did he plan to make her skin prickle with excitement the moment she read it, or to make her feel the molten pull of desire? Walking over to the line of wardrobe doors, she pulled open the first to find a dress hanging there—noting without any sense of surprise that it was made by a renowned designer. It was deceptively simple—a masterpiece fashioned from heavy silk and Jessica could instantly see how exquisitely it was cut. She thought how beautifully it would hang, and wasn’t there a tiny part of her which longed to wear it? Because it was a sexy dress. A woman’s dress. The kind of garment which would be worn in the knowledge that later a man would remove it.

Heart pounding, she turned away from the temptation it presented and everything else it symbolised and stared defiantly at her own belongings. She resented his peremptory tone and much else besides. He had no right to order her what to wear. The job hadn’t even started and already he was acting as if he owned her. Being summoned here within the space of a few hours was one thing, but no way was Loukas going to decide on her wardrobe.

By eight she had showered and changed and was heading down towards the restaurant. Outwardly composed, she announced her arrival to the maître d’ but her fingers were trembling as she was shown across the candlelit room to where Loukas was already seated.

This time she was prepared for his impact, but it made little difference to her reaction. Illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight, he was occupying the best table in the room and looking completely at home—as if he owned the space and all that surrounded him. She saw the unmistakable darkening of his eyes as she approached, but the flicker of a nerve at his temple indicated a flash of anger, rather than lust.

And suddenly she began to regret the determination with which she had pulled on a cream-coloured dress which fell demurely to just below the knee. She knew she must appear faintly colourless among the exotically clothed women in the room, but surely maintaining her independence was more important than blending in with the slick, city crowd. More importantly, it would send out a subliminal message to her former lover, telling him that she was still very much her own woman, no matter how much she needed the job.

He said nothing until she had been seated and presented with a menu, but he waved the waiter away with an impatient hand, and when he spoke his voice felt like the brushing of dark velvet all the way down her spine.

‘I thought I told you to wear the black dress?’

She met his gaze with the imperturbable stare which had once served her so well on the tennis court. ‘No woman likes to be told what dress to put on, Loukas.’

‘I beg to differ.’ His voice was soft. Dangerously soft. ‘Why would you object to wearing a costly gown which would make you look amazing?’

‘Because I don’t want or need your costly gowns.’

‘I see.’ Reflectively, his finger moved across his lips. ‘And presumably you chose that bland-looking outfit to ensure I wouldn’t be attracted to you?’

Jessica felt her cheeks grow hot. She might not have dressed to impress but she knew she looked neat and smart, and it hurt to hear him say something unnecessarily cruel like that. Was that the reason she started defending herself—why she was foolish enough to try? ‘You didn’t used to complain about the colour of my clothes.’

‘That’s because I was young and I didn’t care what you wore. Actually, I was more concerned about getting you naked.’ He paused to slant her a flinty smile. ‘Something which was never a problem after your initial reluctance.’

‘Well, at least that side of things need no longer concern you.’

‘“That side of things”?’ he mimicked in amusement. ‘Don’t be coy, Jess. If you’re talking about sex, why not just come out and say it?’

‘Okay, I will.’ Jessica waved her menu in front of him, pleased that the candlelight camouflaged her sudden blush. ‘And sex isn’t on the menu, I’m afraid.’

He leaned back in his chair and smiled. ‘Your defiance excites me,’ he said. ‘Mainly because I wasn’t expecting it.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought you might be happy to put on a dress which your average female would lust after.’

‘Maybe I’m not your average female.’

‘No, maybe you’re not.’ His lashes came down to half shield the ebony gleam of his eyes. ‘I was also wondering whether or not you would be compliant and it gives me a perverse kind of pleasure that you weren’t.’

‘Really?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And why’s that?’

He smiled. ‘Because if you present a man with a woman who is disobedient, then he is conditioned to want to tame her. To sublimate her unruly temperament. And that is something which fills me with anticipation and excitement.’

His words washed over her—edged with an eroticism she couldn’t ignore. And suddenly Jessica felt out of her depth. As if she’d underestimated him. As if she’d unwittingly signed up for something more than a change of image and a brand-new advertising campaign. He looked so powerful as he sat there. As if he was playing a game, only she didn’t know what that game was. Because although this man looked like Loukas—a very polished Loukas—she realised that he was a stranger to her.

He had always been a stranger to her, she realised with a sinking heart. Hadn’t he always kept a side of himself locked away?

But her face betrayed nothing, her smile as polite as if they were discussing nothing more controversial than the January weather. ‘Do you really think it’s acceptable to invite a woman for dinner and then to talk about taming her?’

This time his smile was edged with definite danger. ‘Doesn’t that turn you on—a masterful man taking control of a stubborn woman? I must say, it has always been one of my enduring fantasies, my little Ice Queen.’

Ice Queen. Jessica didn’t react to that either. It was a long time since she’d heard the term which had dogged her junior years as a player and followed her onto the senior circuit. She had hated it, although her father had approved. He’d said it meant she’d achieved what she’d set out to achieve—a cold unflappability. Or rather, what he had set out to achieve. All Jessica knew was that being cold didn’t make you popular with the other players, even if the ability to keep your feelings hidden made you a formidable opponent. Not showing when you were angry, or sad, or rattled had distinct advantages when you were playing tennis—just not in real life. It made people think you had no real feelings. It made them call you Ice Queen. And it made men like Loukas Sarantos interested in you because they thought you presented the ultimate challenge.

‘I’m not interested in your sexual fantasies,’ she said quietly.

‘Honestly?’

‘No. What I’m interested in,’ she said, dragging her thoughts away with an effort, ‘is how you’ve become so incredibly rich.’

‘Not right now,’ he said, with silky resignation—as if he’d been expecting the question a whole lot sooner. ‘Here comes the waiter. Let’s deal with him first. Do you know what you want to eat? Perhaps you would like me to order for you?’

Jessica bristled. He was doing it again, just as he’d tried to do with the dress. That whole command thing which was teetering on the brink of domination. She was perfectly capable of ordering her own food and she ought to tell him that, but, faced with the prospect of deciphering a long menu beneath a gaze which was making her feel so conflicted, Jessica shrugged her acceptance.

She listened while he quizzed the sommelier and the waiter with a knowledge he clearly hadn’t acquired overnight. It was strange seeing him like this in public—giving orders where in the past he had taken them. As strange as seeing him in his expensive suit. She was left feeling dazed when they were alone once more and two glasses of white wine had been poured for them. All she knew was that she mustn’t let him dominate her. That she needed to start asserting herself, just as she had done so often on the tennis court.

‘So are you going to tell me?’ she persisted, with a determination which seemed to well up from somewhere deep inside her. From the far end of the room a jazz pianist began playing something haunting and sultry and the music seemed to invade her senses as Jessica stared at him. ‘What has happened to you to make you the man you are today, Loukas?’