Читать книгу Her Greek Groom: The Tycoon's Mistress / Smokescreen Marriage / His Forbidden Bride - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 12

AS THE gates closed and the lift began its smooth rush to the penthouse, Cressy drew a deep breath.

Whatever—whoever—was waiting for her, it was essential that she appear composed and in control. She couldn’t afford to let the mask slip for a moment and reveal the turmoil of emotion inside her.

She had dressed carefully for this meeting. Her navy blue suit was immaculate, the skirt cut decorously to the knee. The heavy cream silk blouse buttoned to the throat, and she wore neat navy pumps with a medium heel and carried a briefcase. Her hair had been brushed severely back from her face and confined at the nape of her neck with a gilt clip.

Her make-up had been meticulously applied to cover up the tell-tale signs of another sleepless night.

She looked, she thought, cool and businesslike. She hoped she was going to be treated accordingly.

She thought, not for the first time, her throat tightening uncontrollably, Oh, let him be a stranger. Please—please let me be wrong about this…

She was met on the top floor by a tall blonde man with a transatlantic accent, who greeted her unsmilingly and introduced himself as Paul Nixon, Mr Viannis’s personal assistant.

He led her down the thickly carpeted corridor and knocked at the double doors at the end.

He said, ‘Miss Fielding is here, sir,’ and stood aside to allow Cressy to go in.

The room was full of light. There were huge windows on three sides, permitting panoramic views all over London.

But Cressy was only aware of the tall, dark figure silhouetted against the brightness. For a moment she was scarcely able to breathe, and she halted abruptly, feeling as if a giant fist had clenched in her stomach, all her worst fears finally and inevitably confirmed.

He was very still, but with the tension of a coiled spring. Across the room, his anger reached out and touched her, and she had to fight an impulse to flinch. Or even run…

He said softly, ‘So, you have come to me at last— Cressida, my faithless one.’

There was a note in his voice which sent a shiver between her shoulder blades, but it was vital not to seem afraid.

She lifted her chin. ‘Mr Viannis?’

‘What charming formality.’ The mockery in his tone was savage. ‘You feel it’s appropriate—under the circumstances? After all, how do you address your ex-fiancé—someone you’ve so signally betrayed?’

She said steadily, ‘I came here to negotiate a deal for my father, not indulge in useless recriminations.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You came here to accept my terms. There is nothing to negotiate.’

She’d hoped to find a stranger and in some ways her wish had been granted, because this wasn’t Draco. This man had never worn scruffy denims or danced in the sunlight. Had never kissed her, or smiled at her with lazy desire. Could never, even for a few breathless moments, have held her naked in his arms.

This man looked thinner—older, she thought, her eyes scanning him with sudden bewilderment. His charcoal suit with its faint pinstripe was exquisitely cut, his tie a paler grey silk.

The tumbled black hair had been tamed and trimmed. And there was no golden light in the dark eyes that met hers. They were cold—impenetrable.

Even his voice was different. Now he spoke with hardly any accent at all.

She thought, How could I not have seen it—the ruthlessness behind the golden sunlit charm?

He walked over to the big desk in the centre of the room and sat down, curtly indicating that she should occupy the chair set at the opposite side.

She obeyed reluctantly. Her legs were shaking and her heart was thudding unevenly.

She said, struggling to keep her voice level, ‘How did you find me?’

‘You were staying in one of my hotels, so that provided the basic information.’ He shrugged. ‘After that, I had enquiries made.’

‘You checked up on me?’ Her voice was taut. ‘Was this before or after you asked me to marry you?’

His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘Oh, long before. When we first encountered each other. I needed to be sure that you were just as you seemed.’

‘I’m glad I measured up to your exacting requirements.’ She spoke with deliberate disdain, trying to cover her growing unease.

‘That was then,’ he said. ‘This is now.’

Cressy touched the tip of her tongue to her dry lips, realising too late that Draco had seen and marked that tiny act of self-betrayal.

She hurried into speech. ‘And that’s how you discovered my father’s—difficulties, I suppose?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But they are hardly “difficulties”. Your father is facing total ruin.’

‘I know that,’ she said. ‘Which is the reason I’m here today.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘You are here because you ran away. Because you left me without a word. You are here to explain.’

‘My father collapsed,’ she said flatly. ‘He was in Intensive Care. I—had to come back.’

‘Without one word to the man you had just promised to marry?’ His voice bit.

Cressy’s hands were clenched so tightly in her lap that her fingers ached. She said, ‘I didn’t think that either of us took that seriously. A lot of women have—flings on foreign holidays.’

‘Ah.’ Draco leaned back in the tall leather chair. ‘So you saw our relationship as some trivial, transient affair. A thing of no consequence.’ His tone suggested courteous interest, but she wasn’t fooled.

‘In some ways,’ she said uncertainly.

He said slowly, ‘If that was true, I would have taken you on the beach that first afternoon and you would have spent the rest of your holiday in my bed.’

‘And eventually gone on my way with a diamond necklace, I suppose,’ Cressy flashed.

‘Perhaps.’ He sounded indifferent. ‘If you’d pleased me sufficiently.’

‘I can’t think why you held back.’

‘Because I was fool enough to respect your innocence, Cressida mou.’ His tone was harsh. ‘I did not see it was just a physical attribute. That, in reality, you were just as calculating and heartless as your namesake.’

Cressy leaned forward. ‘You think I’ve treated you badly,’ she said hotly. ‘But you weren’t honest with me either. You deliberately let me think you were poor. Why?’

‘An unaccountable need to be wanted for myself only, and not for my worldly goods,’ he drawled. ‘It was so refreshing to meet someone who had no idea who I was, pethi mou.’

‘And how long did you plan to go on deceiving me?’ She realised now why Maria had tried to warn her. To tell her that she was involved with a man who was not only very rich, but powerful. A man who would live up to his name if crossed.

‘It would have been over as soon as you returned from Alakos. You see, agapi mou, I had planned a big party for our engagement at my house.’

She stared at him. ‘It belongs to you, doesn’t it? That wonderful villa on the headland?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘My family and friends were flying in from all over the world to meet you—my future wife—there.’

‘Oh.’ Cressy felt sick.

‘At first I thought you had simply missed the ferry,’ he went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘I called the hotel, and they told me you had checked out, so I waited for a message. I waited a long time. I cannot remember the precise moment I realised you were not coming back.’

‘My father needed me,’ she said desperately. ‘I had to get to Athens—to go to him.’

‘And it never occurred to you to turn to me—the man you’d professed to love?’ His mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘What a mistake, Cressida mou. My helicopter would have flown us to Athens. My private plane would have taken us on to London. You would have been there in half the time.’

‘But I had no means of knowing that,’ she protested.

‘If you had come to me you would have known. Only you didn’t. And that is the worst thing of all. To know that you were in trouble—in pain—yet you didn’t want to share this with me. Even if I’d been as poor as you thought, at least I had the right to put my arms around you and hold you.

‘As it was, I could have taken you straight to your father and been with you to comfort and care for you, as a man should with his woman.’ He paused, the dark eyes merciless. ‘Tell me, pethi mou, had you any intention of contacting me again—ever? Or was I simply to be—erased, like an unfortunate mistake in a calculation?’

Cressy shook her head, feeling tears thickening in her throat. ‘Draco—I don’t know—I was worried—confused…’

‘Then let me tell you the answer,’ he said. ‘You didn’t love—and you didn’t trust either. That was the bitter truth I had to learn. I was poor, so I could be discarded, as if I had no feelings. And one day you will discover how that feels. Because I shall teach you.’

He smiled at her. ‘You will discover, Cressida mou, that I am not so easily forgotten.’

She said in a low voice, ‘I suppose you mean to use my father’s problems against me. Well—I’m prepared for that.’

‘Are you?’ he asked softly. ‘I had originally intended to present the settlement of his debts as a gift to you when we announced our engagement. Since then I have had time to think again.’

She said urgently, ‘Draco—whatever you think of me—please don’t punish my father any more. He’s a sick man.’

‘And when he leaves hospital he will need a home to go to,’ he said. ‘The house that now belongs to me. Is that what you’re trying to put into words?’

She said on a note of desperation, ‘I could pay rent…’

‘Yes, you will pay,’ he said quietly. ‘But not with money. I have enough of that already.’

‘Then how?’ Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

‘Don’t you know?’ he said. ‘Don’t you understand that I still want you?’

The room was very still suddenly. She stared across the desk at him. At the hard bronze face and the cool mouth that looked as if it would never smile again. Watched and waited for some softening—some warmth. But in vain.

She swallowed. ‘You mean—in spite of everything—you’re going to marry me?’

His laugh was harsh. ‘No, not marriage, my sweet. I will not be caught again. This time I’m offering a less formal arrangement.’ He added cynically, ‘And spare me the pretence that you don’t understand my offer.’

‘I understand.’ Her voice seemed to come from a long way away. ‘You’re saying that if I—sleep with you—you won’t enforce the mortgage or my father’s other debts.’

‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I am saying exactly that. And what is your answer?’

She said hoarsely, ‘Draco, you can’t mean this. If you loved me, you wouldn’t…’

‘I said that I wanted you, Cressida mou. I did not mention love.’

Pain ripped at her, tearing her apart. She hadn’t realised it was possible to hurt so much. Or to be so afraid.

She said, her voice shaking, ‘Is this your idea of revenge? To rape me?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Because you will come to me willingly, Cressida, as we both know.’

‘Never.’

He shrugged. ‘Then regard it simply as a business transaction. You understand those better than you know yourself, I think.’

‘Business?’ Her voice cracked. ‘How can it be that?’

‘I have something you want.’ His smile mocked her. ‘You have something I want. That’s how deals are made.’

‘You make it sound so simple.’

‘It is hardly complicated.’ His voice was cool, and oddly impersonal. ‘You will come to me, and stay with me as long as I require. When our liaison ends, I will hand over the mortgage and other papers—instead of a diamond necklace,’ he added, his mouth twisting.

‘And if I refuse this—degrading offer?’

He leaned back in his chair. He said quietly, ‘We have already established that your father’s well-being is your sole priority. So I do not think we need consider that possibility—do you?’

‘No.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘No, I don’t—really—have a choice.’

He smiled thinly. ‘You’ve made the right decision.’ He got to his feet and came round the desk to her side. He took her hand, pulling her out of the chair.

He led her across the room to a door, which he opened, revealing a large and luxurious bedroom.

‘You mean—now?’ Her voice rose, and she recoiled, swinging round to face him. ‘Oh, God, you can’t be serious.’

His brows lifted. ‘Why not?’

She said wildly, ‘Because it’s the middle of the morning.’

He began to laugh. ‘How conventional you are, agapi mou,’ he mocked. ‘When we were on Myros there was not one minute of the day or night that we did not want each other.’

She bit her lip. ‘That was different.’

‘Did you expect me to seduce you over dinner with flowers and moonlight?’ His tone was cynical. ‘It is too late for that. Once, perhaps, I would have made it beautiful for you. Now—’ he shrugged ‘—regard it as the signature on a contract.’

‘Draco.’ Her voice broke. ‘Please—don’t do this to me—to us.’

‘Us?’ he echoed contemptuously. ‘There is no “us”. I have bought you, Cressida mou. That is all. And this time you will not have the opportunity to run away.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have a couple of calls to make. I will join you in a few minutes.’

She said bitterly, ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

‘I intend to,’ he said. ‘Whether or not you share my pleasure is your own concern. But I think you will.’

He pulled her towards him, his arm a steel band forcing her compliance. His dark face swam momentarily in front of her startled eyes. Then he bent his head and kissed her breast.

The sudden heat of his mouth scorched through her thin blouse and lacy bra as if she was already naked. His lips found her nipple, tugging at it, creating a sharp, exquisite pain that triggered a scalding flood of need in return.

Surprised and shamed at the physical fierceness of her response, Cressy gasped, her hands curling into impotent fists at her sides.

When he lifted his head he was smiling faintly. He reached for one small clenched hand and raised it to his lips with insolent grace.

His other hand slid down over her hip to her thigh, and lingered there suggestively.

He said softly, ‘Nothing has really changed between us, Cressida mou. Only the terms of our coming together. Shall I prove it to you? Show you exactly how much you still want me?’

Helpless colour warmed her face. She shook her head, staring down at the carpet, not daring to meet the intensity of his gaze. Scared of what else she might betray.

She had not bargained for the overwhelming force of instinct. But that could be harnessed, she told herself. Hidden.

For her own sake, she had to try.

She found herself impelled gently but inexorably into the bedroom. She began a last protest, but Draco laid a finger on her parted lips, silencing her.

He said, ‘I shall try not to keep you waiting too long.’

The door closed behind him, shutting her in. She stood, her arms wrapped defensively across her body, staring round.

It was a big room, and the bed was its dominant feature, wide and low, with a dark green cover tailored in heavy linen, matching the drapes at the windows.

A very masculine room, she thought, comfortable but impersonal. A suitable place for a bargain, but not for love. Never for love.

She walked across and tugged at the cords, swinging the curtains across to block out the brilliant sunlight. She wanted shadows, she thought. Shadows and darkness to hide in.

She needed, too, to blot out the searing memory of those other golden days on Myros when she had turned to him, eagerly offering her mouth—her body.

Her whole body seemed to stir in sudden yearning, and regret, and she stiffened, bringing her rebellious senses back under control once more. She could not allow herself such weakness.

Whatever Draco did to her—no matter how he made her feel—somehow she had to stay aloof—and endure.

Presently, she thought, I shall wake up and find all this was just a nightmare.

She looked back, dry-mouthed, at the bed, pain searing through her as she realised how different it could have been.

But she’d made her choice—a whole series of choices—and she had to live with the consequences. Starting now…

She left her clothes in the adjoining dressing room. The carpet was soft under her bare feet as she walked to the bed. The percale sheets felt crisp and cool against her burning skin as she lay tensely, waiting for the door to open.

Which, eventually, just as her nerves had reached screaming point, it did.

‘Shy, agapi mou?’ He was a dark shape at the end of the bed. He turned away, walking over to the windows and flinging back the drapes again, flooding the room with sudden light.

Draco came back to the bed. For a moment he stood staring down at her, then he reached down, twitching the covers from her outraged fingers and tossing them to the foot of the bed.

He said softly, ‘A man likes to look, as well as touch.’

Teeth set defiantly, Cressy withstood his lingering scrutiny, deliberately not covering herself with her hands, nor looking away, even when he began, almost casually, to remove his clothes.

Only when he came to lie beside her on the bed and drew her into his arms did she finally close her eyes, her body rigid against his naked warmth.

The scent of his skin, once so familiar and so precious, now admixed with a trace of some expensive cologne, pervaded her mouth and nose, so that she seemed to be breathing him, absorbing him into every atom of her consciousness.

She remembered one day on the beach, kissing his shoulder, tasting the heat of the sun and the salt of the sea on its curving muscularity. But she couldn’t afford those kind of memories. She had to lie still and unyielding—and hate. Resentment would be her only salvation.

But it wasn’t easy, not when his hands had begun to caress her, the warm fingers skimming over her flesh in exquisite, tantalising exploration.

As they softly brushed her taut nipples Cressy had to bite back a gasp, her body clenching in hot, shamed excitement.

Where his hands touched, his mouth followed. He kissed her breasts softly, his tongue unhurriedly circling each puckered rose peak in turn. Sensation, knife-sharp and honey-sweet, pierced through her, making her quiver and arch towards him involuntarily, and she felt his lips smile against her skin.

His hand parted her thighs and began to stroke her, delicately, subtly, making her moan and writhe against the intimate play of his fingers as they promised—tantalised—and then denied.

Every sense, every atom of consciousness was focused painfully on that tiny, pulsating centre of her being as she felt herself being drawn slowly and exquisitely to some undreamed of brink. As she felt her breath quicken and heard the frantic drumming of her own heart.

She made a small, wounded sound in her throat. A wordless plea for him—somehow—to end this beautiful torment.

‘Not yet.’ His tongue caressed the whorls of her ear. ‘Not yet, but—soon…’ And his hand moved fractionally, deepening the caress. Imposing a more compelling demand.

She was blind, deaf—mindless. Aware of nothing but the fierce concentration of pleasure that he was creating for her. As if the sun, beating against her eyelids, was blooming and growing inside her.

And when, at last, he gave her the release she craved, she cried out in harsh animal delight as ripple upon ripple of pure feeling engulfed her—convulsed her. As she was flung out into space, where she fell into the centre of the sun and was consumed.

She was totally relaxed, her body still throbbing with pleasure, as Draco moved above her, and, with one deep thrust, into her.

For a fleeting instant she was scared by the memory of pain, then shocked by its absence. Because now there was only joyous acceptance, and a sense of completion.

As if, she thought, this was the moment she had been made for.

She raised her languid lids and stared up at him, letting herself enclose him. Hold him.

Allowing herself to savour how alien it felt, yet at the same time how totally familiar—and precious.

The bronze face was stark, his eyes like pits of darkness as he began to move, slowly and powerfully, inside her.

Instinct lifted her hands to his shoulders and clasped her legs round his lean hips, so that she could partner him completely. Could mirror each compelling stroke.

As the rhythm and intensity increased, Draco groaned something in his own language. She kissed his throat, licking the salt from his skin, feeling the thunder of his pulse against her lips.

At the same time, deep within her, she was aware of the first flutterings of renewed delight. Incredulous, gasping, she held him closer, her sweat mingling with his as the spiral of pleasure tautened unbearably, then imploded.

Her whole body rocked as the tremors of rapture tore through her, echoed by the wild spasms of his own climax.

When it was over, he lay very still, his face against her breasts.

She wanted to hold him. To put her lips against the damp, dark tangle of hair and whisper that she loved him. That as he’d been the first, so would he be the last.

As his cherished bride, it would have been her right to open her heart to him. As his mistress—she sank her teeth into her swollen lower lip—she had no rights at all. And that was something she must never forget. That her role in his life was at best transient.

At last he stirred, lifting himself away from her. He reached for his watch from the night table, grimaced at the time, and fastened the thin gold bracelet back on his wrist. Then he turned and looked down at Cressy, his dark eyes almost dispassionate.

‘Thank you.’ His voice was cool, even faintly amused. ‘I had not expected such—enchanting cooperation. You learn quickly.’

‘Is—is that all you have to say?’ Her voice shook. She felt as if she’d been slapped.

‘No, but the rest must wait. I have a meeting in the City. But you don’t have to leave,’ he added swiftly as Cressy half sat up. ‘No one will disturb you if you wish to sleep.’

‘I don’t,’ she said curtly. ‘I haven’t visited my father today. I need to get back there.’

He nodded, unfazed. ‘Paul will contact you with your instructions.’

‘Instructions?’

‘I shall soon be returning to Greece. I require you to accompany me.’

‘But my job—my father,’ Cressy protested. ‘I can’t just—go.’

‘You will find that you can. Your employer has been most understanding. Your—services are on temporary loan to me. I did not explain the exact nature of the services,’ he added with a shrug. ‘So you can tell him as much or as little as you wish.’

She swallowed. ‘My God,’ she said. ‘You don’t allow much to stand in your way, do you? Suppose I’d turned you down.’

‘I was certain you wouldn’t.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Apart from other considerations, your sexual curiosity had been aroused, agapi mou, and needed to be satisfied.’ His hand touched her shoulder, then travelled swiftly and sensuously down her body. It was the lightest of caresses but it brought her skin stinglingly alive.

Draco’s laugh was soft. ‘You see, Cressida mou, even now you are eager for your next lesson. How sad that I have not more time to devote to you.’

Cressy reached down and dragged the discarded sheet up over her body. She recognised that it was basically a meaningless gesture, but it made her feel marginally better.

She forced herself to meet his gaze. She said, ‘You mentioned I was on loan to you. For how long, exactly?’

Draco swung his long legs to the floor. ‘I said three months initially.’

She said, ‘I—see.’

The blissful euphoria which had followed their lovemaking had gone. In its place, pain and shame were dragging her apart.

‘I suggest you see a doctor as a matter of urgency,’ he tossed over his shoulder as he walked to the bathroom. ‘Today I used protection, but even so we must ensure there’s no chance of you becoming pregnant.’

Cressy was suddenly very still, her eyes enormous as she stared after him.

With a few casual words, she thought, he’d relegated her to the status of a non-person.

Yet this was the reality of the situation. She was no longer his golden love. She was a temporary sexual partner. And the skill and artistry he’d brought to her initiation had simply been a means to an end. Draco had ensured her pleasure merely to increase his own.

And if she’d hoped in some secret corner of her mind that the glory of their coming together would soften his attitude towards her, she knew better now, and disappointment twisted inside her like a claw.

There were tears crowding in her throat, stinging the backs of her eyes, but she would not shed them in front of him.

She said quietly. ‘No—of course not.’

The bathroom door closed behind him, and presently she heard the sound of the shower running.

She released a trembling breath. Somehow she had to come to terms with the relationship that he’d offered her, and all its limitations, when the most she could hope for was that it would soon be over.

‘Oh, God,’ she whispered brokenly. ‘How can I bear it?’

And she turned her face into the pillow and lay like a stone.