Читать книгу Exotic Nights: The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse - Эбби Грин, Natalie Anderson - Страница 10

LESS than three hours later, Angel stood in the hall of her own house, a suitcase at her feet. When she’d finally left the Parnassus villa she’d been aghast to see that dawn had been breaking, it had made her feel acutely disorientated. By some miracle her father wasn’t at home; Angel’s more and more harried looking stepmother informed her that her father had left the previous evening for London, to try and beg a loan from his cousins. Angel had been dreading the inevitable showdown with him, for undoubtedly he’d know that she’d taken the will.

She’d gone into her sister’s room and woken her up and told her what was happening, while omitting the real reason why Leo was asking her to move in with him. Delphi had been understandably concerned. ‘But, Angel, they hate us. They must do. What do you mean, you just happened to meet him and he swept you off your feet? It’s all so fast and you never said anything …’

Angel hated lying to her sister. She’d smiled tightly and explained how they’d met at the party, and how she hadn’t wanted to say anything in case their father found out. ‘Delph, I didn’t want you to be worried. I wasn’t sure what to expect myself, wasn’t even sure if he’d come back to Athens. But he has …’ Here Angel had flushed hotly, remembering his kiss in the study. ‘And he wants me to move in … I know it all seems weird and too fast and unlikely … but just trust me, please? I know what I’m doing.’

Delphi had completely misread Angel’s acute embarrassment as being infatuation, but even so it had only been after more grilling that she’d finally seemed satisfied with Angel’s answers.

When Angel had taken a deep breath and told Delphi about Leo’s link to Stavros’ father, and what he’d promised to do for them, and seen her ecstatic reaction, she’d known then that she had no choice but to follow her fate.

As if she’d had a choice anyway. Leo could still call the police and accuse her of stealing. No court in the world would believe her over him, with the evidence he had. But, apart from that, she couldn’t jeopardise Delphi and Stavros’ happiness now—their bid for independence and the future security of their baby.

For the first time Delphi had sounded grown up. ‘Angel, you don’t have to be responsible for everything, you know. Just doing this for us is enough. I’ll be fine here, I promise. It’s time you got to live your own life.’

Angel might have laughed at that if she hadn’t known that she would be in danger of it turning to tears. She wouldn’t be free to live her life now until Leo had decided he’d had enough of her. Her only hope was that her woeful inexperience would be enough of a turn-off for him that he would be content to use her like some kind of trophy mistress until he deemed she’d paid her dues.

But why, when she thought of that, did her womb contract with what felt like disappointment? Angel quashed that thought down ruthlessly. Her mind was just playing tricks. She’d just made a call to the hotel where she’d worked and resigned her job; there was nothing left to do. She took a deep breath and picked up her small case. It was time to go.

‘Won’t your father be here at the villa too?’

Leo had led Angel into a palatial bedroom, the sheer understated luxury of which had made her eyes goggle. Her father’s taste had always been seriously lacking, he being the kind of person who believed trappings like gold taps were the sign of a rich man.

Leo was in the act of showing Angel where a door connected with his room, and she’d blurted out the question as much to disguise her panic as anything else. Now he turned and leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb.

In the few hours since she’d left the villa and returned, she was disgusted to see that Leo looked as if he’d had a full night’s sleep and was as rested and vibrant as anyone had a right to be. She felt sticky all over, with gritty eyes, and still dazed from everything that had happened.

The rumble of his voice brought her back. ‘My father is staying on the island indefinitely. His doctors have advised no stress, and Athens means stress because he’s incapable of staying away from work. Even now.’

Angel winced at the bitter edge to Leo’s voice, and was reminded uncomfortably of what he’d revealed about their relationship. Irrational guilt assailed her. She could say nothing to that; any murmur of sympathy or empathy would be shot down in an instant. Anyway, Leo was ignoring her, revealing another room.

Angel had seen the en-suite bathroom, as big as her bedroom at home, and now Leo was pointing to an empty walk-in wardrobe. She came closer and looked in warily.

Leo sent a cursory look up and down her body and Angel fought not to cringe. She was still in the same clothes.

‘I’ll have a stylist come to consult with you tomorrow, and sort out a full wardrobe. We can’t have you looking anything less than a bought woman from now on, can we?’

Angel caught a flash of the huge bed she’d been ignoring in her peripheral vision and it scared her silly, making her say flippantly, ‘Knock yourself out. Fill that wardrobe and I’ll be only too happy to act out the part.’

He pushed himself off the door, coming close enough to have Angel’s panic and pulse zoom skywards. He smiled lazily. Cynically.

‘I don’t think it’ll take too much acting. Your Skittishness is intriguing me. I would have expected you to be ecstatic that I’ve chosen you as my mistress. You forget that I come from New York … the natural habitat of the mercenary, gold-digging socialite. Your black soul won’t surprise me, really.’

Angel searched for words, but to her chagrin couldn’t get them out in time. To her consternation, Leo merely looked at his watch then, and said crisply, ‘I have to go to the office. Why don’t you get some rest? You look tired.’

And then he was gone, and she was alone. Angel walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t just look tired. She looked shell-shocked. Feeling incredibly weary, and more than a little numb, she stripped off and stood under a steaming hot shower for a long time.

And then she got out, dried her hair, shut the curtains, crawled into the softest bed she’d ever felt, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The first thing Angel knew was a gentle rocking. And then a voice. A deep, soulful voice that she found herself instinctively turning to. She smiled. The rocking became more forceful, and so did the voice.

‘Angel.’

She wasn’t dreaming. In an instant she was awake. Wide awake. Looking up with big eyes at Leonidas Parnassus, who was far too close to her, sitting on the bed, his face inscrutable. It all rushed back. She wasn’t in her own bed; she was in his home and had agreed to become his mistress.

Angel grabbed for the sheet and pulled it up, even though she was dressed in pants and a vest. She scrabbled back as far as she could go, away from him. She felt exposed at having been caught sleeping. How long had he been there?

Leo stood up from the bed and Angel asked huskily, ‘What time is it?’

He consulted his watch. ‘It’s 8:00 p.m.’

Angel sat up in shock, still holding the sheet. ‘I’ve been asleep all day?’

Leo nodded and went over to pull the curtains back, so Angel could see the sun starting to set in the sky. She felt completely disorientated—jet-lagged, almost. Leo started to walk out of the room, barely glancing at Angel now. ‘Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

While he waited for Angel, Leo stood at the huge French windows of the less formal dining room. The doors were opened out onto the terrace—the same terrace he’d brought Angel out to on the night of the party. He could scarcely fathom that he’d been in Athens for barely twenty-four hours and already had Angel in his home. Yet bizarrely it felt right.

Just now, when he’d woken her, he’d seen something that had reminded him of that first evening they’d met. For a moment before she’d woken she’d almost turned to him, with a soft smile around her mouth, and that enticing beauty spot at the corner of her lip had made him want to bend down and kiss it. Made him want to do so much more. When she’d opened her eyes, though, he’d noticed slight shadows still lingering.

Her hair had been sleep-mussed, tangled over one bare shoulder, where the strap of her vest had fallen down. She’d looked incredibly sexy, yet unbelievably vulnerable, and he had felt a niggle of unease at how quickly things had progressed from him finding her creeping through the villa. He’d pushed the unease aside. Even those three hours waiting for her to return had been torturous. He’d actually been nervous that she wouldn’t return. That, despite everything he had on her, she would defy him. Leo noticed his hands had gone into fists now, just thinking about it. He forced them to uncurl.

He thought of how she’d looked when she’d returned, with shadows like bruises under her eyes …

She’d come into his family home to steal from them.

With more effort than he liked to admit, Leo pushed down the concern. A tight coil of desire held him in its grip. Tonight he’d have her, and he’d no doubt that within a very short space of time she’d prove to be as dismayingly predictable as every other woman he’d ever met, ultimately using emotion arising from intimacy, thinking that she could manipulate him.

He heard a noise at the door and turned around slowly. It was time for Angel to face the consequences of her actions.

Angel’s skin prickled when she was shown into a dining room by a smiling housekeeper and saw Leo standing with his back to her. The windows were open and the curtains fluttered on the breeze. She had no idea how to act in this situation. No idea what was expected of her. She felt acutely lonely all of a sudden.

Leo turned around slowly, and the impact on her senses was nothing short of cataclysmic. She’d not really noticed what he was wearing in her room; she’d been too shocked and groggy. But now she saw that he was dressed in a pair of lovingly worn and faded jeans, which clung to him like a second skin. The material stretched over powerful thighs and long, long legs.

A black polo shirt made the brown of his eyes seem even darker, his skin seem even more olive. His shoulders were almost too broad for the material, and huge biceps bulged from beneath the short sleeves.

‘Come and see the view, Angel.’

I’m already looking at it, she felt like blurting out slightly hysterically.

Knowing she was in a situation she couldn’t get out of, her fate sealed by her own stupidly impetuous actions and her wanting to make everything all right for Delphi, Angel walked over to Leo, very self-conscious in her plain black shift dress. Hair pulled back. She coloured when she saw his gaze drop. She’d viewed him on Google him in a moment of weakness and seen exactly the kind of woman he went for: invariably tall, blonde, soignée. Experienced. A million miles from herself.

‘Very demure,’ he murmured when she came close.

‘If I’d known casual was okay I would have worn jeans too,’ she said stiffly, her gaze resolutely fixed on the view of Athens spread out below them. Not even that spectacular vista could distract her from the man beside her.

‘I like to be casual at home, Angel, so here you can wear what you want … even go naked if you wish,’ he finished softly.

Angel coloured even more at his mocking tone, wondering what on earth he saw in her. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Pity.’

She heard him pour some wine into a glass, and then he was offering it to her. She took it—anything to try and give her some courage.

‘What do you think of the view—it’s amazing, no?’

Angel snuck a quick look up; Leo was staring out, his profile to her, showing that he had a slight bump in his nose, and she could see the faint raised line of the scar over his lip. Hurriedly she looked back, afraid to be caught staring.

‘Yes, it’s truly beautiful.’ Amidst everything, she thought of something else, and looked at her watch to check the time. ‘Actually, any minute now … yes, there. Look—’ Angel lifted her hand to point to where the evening lights were coming on to illuminate the Acropolis, far below in the distance.

She heard Leo’s intake of breath and couldn’t look at him, for some reason afraid of what she might see. It was always a magical sight, and one that took her breath away too. Was it having the same effect on him? She felt a lurch to think that she’d grown up seeing it as an everyday occurrence but he hadn’t.

‘I’ve seen the lights before, but never the moment when they come on like that.’

Angel murmured something inarticulate feeling unaccountably guilty. She turned with more than a little relief when the housekeeper bustled in with their food, and Leo turned too, indicating for her to precede him to the table.

Leo watched Angel walk in front of him, took in the glossy hair tied back in a low, careless bun, the long, elegant neck. And looked down to where her bare legs were slender, yet shapely enough to make his heart kick and his pulse throb.

Her palpable air of nervousness had caught him unawares as she’d stood beside him. He had to question why she was feigning it now, when they both knew where they stood. She’d been nervous before, in the study, but that had no doubt been because she’d no idea how he’d react to catching her red-handed.

He’d certainly not been prepared to have her point out a sight she must have seen a thousand times before, which must be wholly unremarkable to her but had taken his breath away, seeing it for the first time. In any other instance he would have considered it a sweetly considerate gesture.

She wasn’t acting the way he’d imagined she’d act in this situation. He’d expected a certain initial belligerence, or even defiance at having been caught and manipulated so spectacularly. Or he’d imagined that she’d want to make the most of the situation and take advantage of becoming his mistress. Leo had yet to meet a woman who didn’t see the advantage in becoming his mistress, so for her to be feigning this nervous skittishness was going to get her nowhere fast.

They sat down. Leo looked at Angel darkly, but she was avoiding his eyes. Straightening her cutlery, her napkin. She was up to something. She had to be. Trying to disarm him for some reason. He reminded himself that she’d been home earlier, and of course she must have taken advice from her father. Leo cursed himself. The fact that he didn’t trust Angel was not in question, so why was he trying to decipher her behaviour? The only behaviour that concerned him was her good behaviour as his mistress, on his arm and in his bed. Anything above and beyond that was of no interest to him.

Angel was doing her best to eat the deliciously prepared dinner, but it tasted like sawdust in her mouth. All she could see, all she could think about, was the man eating his dinner at the head of the table to her left. Her eyes kept being drawn to his hands, how powerful they looked. The tension mounted and mounted, especially when she thought of those hands in other places. On her.

Leo, however, seemed happy to concentrate on his food. Angel had countless questions bubbling on her lips: did he expect to sleep with her tonight? What would he do when he discovered how inexperienced she was? Would he reject her outright, as Achilles had? And why did that thought hurt so much? Why was she so consumed with him when he was all but blackmailing her into his bed?

Angel had never felt more confused, and very, very vulnerable. The silence, she was sure, was Leo’s way of unsettling her, reminding her she was here for just one purpose. A purpose she was woefully ill prepared for. He wasn’t even attempting small talk. When she felt something brush against her bare legs under the table she let out a startled cry, and dropped her knife to the floor with a clatter.

Just then the housekeeper came back in—Leo had introduced her to Angel earlier as Calista—and Angel saw that it had just been a cat. Her cat. After profuse apologies, and her knife being replaced, they were alone in the room again.

Leo put down his knife and fork and Angel jumped minutely.

‘Why so tense, Angel?’

She looked warily at Leo. His eyes were dark, like mysterious pools. He was all hard angles and shadows. A dark line shadowed his jaw after a day’s growth.

‘I …’ She couldn’t articulate a word. Something dense was in the air around them all of a sudden, something tangible and electric. Was this desire?

‘No appetite?’ he asked then innocuously, with a raised brow.

Angel just shook her head and watched, dry-mouthed, as his gaze fixated on her mouth. It tingled. God, why couldn’t she be immune to him and stand up in disgust and tell him if he touched her she’d call the police? Because then he’d probably call the police himself, send her away, and Delphi and Stavros would be back to square one. Worse, with the ensuing media storm.

However, those very good reasons aside, with the heavy weight of inevitability, the real reason sank into her head: she wanted him to touch her. The truth was shocking when she acknowledged it. Despite everything, she wanted him to touch her. Had done from the moment she’d seen him emerge from the pool … and from the moment he’d kissed her on the terrace. Since that night she’d had dreams, when she’d woken in sweaty tangled sheets, aching … And it killed her to admit it. Especially when she’d all but written sex off after her first experience.

Her hormones had turned traitor and were in league with this man.

Leo suddenly pushed his plate away and stood up, towering over her. His eyes glittered with a dark promise. A muscle popped in his jaw. ‘I find that my appetite for food has gone, too.’

There was something rough in his voice that resonated deep within her. When he held out a hand, Angel hesitated for a second before putting her hand in his. She told herself this was just part of the agreement. She was securing Delphi’s freedom and happiness. He wasn’t throwing her to the police with accusations of theft. All she had to do … all she had to do … She stumbled as Leo led her from the room. They encountered Calista on the way, and Leo explained in rapid Greek that they were both tired and going to bed.

Angel’s cheeks burned as Leo led her up the stairs. She was mortified. She tried to tug her hand back, panic making her voice high. ‘She’s going to know exactly what we’re doing.’

Leo’s voice was hard. ‘You’re my mistress. I should hope so. And if the gossip here is anything like in New York, it’ll already be halfway round Athens by morning that I have taken Angel Kassianides into my bed.’