Читать книгу The Ruthless Greek's Virgin Princess - Trish Morey - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

WOMEN and headaches. Women with headaches. Who needed them?

Yannis tugged at his tie, then removed his gold and onyx striped cufflinks and let them clatter to the bedside table as he kicked off his shoes, taking in the empty suite and the king-sized four-poster bed with more than a touch of regret.

He could have brought Susannah. He hadn’t had to terminate their arrangement when he had, even if it had made so much sense at the time. Apart from her own tendency to play the headache card, it was always a risk, he knew, taking any woman to a wedding and expecting her to come away without thoughts of wedding gowns and honeymoons planted in her head.

But if he had brought her, at least he’d have someone here now. Someone to rub his shoulders and massage his temples and soothe this other throbbing part of him… Kolasi. Why the hell he felt like sex when he’d had to endure the worst night of his life was beyond him.

No, not the worst night of his life. That black night and the explosion of events it had detonated belonged to a time thirteen years ago. Tonight might have been uncomfortable, unpleasant at times, but nothing could surpass that poisoned night.

Still, surely he deserved some kind of compensation after having to face Marietta again? He reefed off his shirt and slung it to the floor before launching himself onto the bed, gazing unseeingly at the canopy above his head.

She’d taken offence to his comment that she’d changed, but there was no denying it. She’d grown into her body in the intervening years, her breasts fuller than he remembered, with hips that balanced their weight and rendered her shape more womanly than before.

He closed his eyes, but the pictures were still vivid of Marietta lying naked in his bed, her blonde hair like a halo around her head, the dip of her slim waist and the spring of blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, and the unmistakable mark on her breast where his teeth had bruised her perfect skin…

And yet it was the look in her eyes that had burned deeper than any memory. Wounded and hurt as he’d banished her from his bed and from his life.

He punched his pillow into submission before settling back down. She’d changed all right. Not that it mattered to him one way or another how she looked.

He sighed and folded his arms behind his head, restless and dissatisfied, wanting to put all thoughts of her out of his head and failing as another snippet from tonight’s encounter wormed its way into his mind. She’d said she’d thought him a family man. Maybe long ago he had been. But that was before he’d learned what families expected of their own.

And even though he’d never married Elena in the end—not after that night—the relief had been short-lived, the ensuing financial fallout consuming all his attention. It had taken years of working alongside Rafe to recover the family fortune, years when he’d pushed himself mentally in order to come up with the kind of deals that would garner millions, years in which he’d pushed himself physically, spending hours in the gym, honing muscles that would keep his body as exercised as his mind. And all those years there had been no time for women in his life, unless they came with a warm body, a cold heart and a definite use by date.

No, marriage and family had no place on his list of priorities.

None whatsoever.

He was already taking breakfast when she came down. Marietta hesitated before stepping out onto the vine-covered terrace, needing a moment to gather her thoughts while she took in the picture of Yannis sitting at the table with his back to her, sipping his coffee and reading the papers.

She considered turning around and withdrawing—she could always get something delivered to her room—had half convinced herself to do so, when he seemed somehow to sense her presence and look over his shoulder. Only for a second, but he’d seen her. The cold acknowledgment in his eyes had been enough to tell her that. And she knew that if she disappeared now, it would look as if she was running away. He’d already accused her once of being afraid. She would not give him the satisfaction of thinking so again.

So instead she steeled her shoulders and pushed herself from her vantage point, the kitten heels of her sandals clicking rhythmically as she crossed the tiled terrace. In a world suddenly shrunken to this one shaded terrace and the man occupying it, the noise seemed bold. Therapeutic. Necessary.

For why should she shrink away and make a quiet approach? She had nothing to be ashamed of. She’d made an embarrassing mistake when she was just a teenager, she’d accepted it and got on with her life. She’d dealt with it. He was clearly the one with the problem.

‘Buongiorno,’ she called, determined to be upbeat and not show him how much she wished she could avoid another encounter with him and so soon. ‘What a perfect day for a wedding.’

And it was. Above them the sky was an endless blue, while the sun cast jewels upon the azure sea beneath, with only the shard of rock known as Iseo’s Pyramid, the remnants of an ancient caldera, slicing through the perfect water.

She turned her back from the view and sat down opposite him, her bravado not extending to trusting herself to meet his eyes. And yet something, whether it be curiosity, mere impulse, or a compulsion she had no way of fighting, made her lift her gaze to his face.

She should have known he would be looking at her.

For a moment their eyes connected, almost fused, before she managed to tear her eyes away and instruct the maid who had just appeared to fill her coffee cup, grateful for the diversion.

‘Sleep well?’ she asked, some inner minx determined to provoke him, anything not to let him see how much he rattled her. She hadn’t, and it had taken her some time this morning to repair the damage of a broken sleep. And if the tightness around his eyes was any indication…

He folded the newspaper he’d been reading and sat back in his chair, planting his hands behind his head. Lazy movements, every one of them, and yet every one of them compulsive viewing. ‘I slept fine.’

‘Excellent,’ she said, smiling too enthusiastically. If she’d needed a reminder of the width of his chest or the muscled firmness of his torso, he’d just given it to her. Along with a glimpse of olive skin with just a dusting of dark hair in the vee at his open-necked shirt. ‘I’m so pleased.’ She pounced on the yoghurt, drizzling on some island honey and declining an offer of pastries and bread. ‘I’m meeting Sienna at ten,’ she offered by way of an explanation that wasn’t needed other than to give her mind something neutral to focus on. ‘I don’t have long.’

‘Wouldn’t you be better having a decent breakfast?’

‘There’s something indecent about yoghurt and honey? I never realised.’

She lifted the spoon to her mouth, aware that he was watching her every move, and a flash of annoyance was replaced by another, more sinful, urge.

Let him watch.

She paused, her lips slightly parted, her eyes half closed in anticipation, before she fully opened her mouth and swept the thick creamy yoghurt from the spoon.

There was definitely something indecent about her mouth. As he watched, a speck of honey clung to one lip, a tiny dew drop that caught the sun and glistened gold, and he had to fight every part of himself to remain in his chair and not lean over and remove it himself. If only he could work out how to do it without her knowing. He was still watching, mesmerised, when the tip of her pink tongue emerged and licked it from lips that settled back into a smile.

She might well have licked him. Electricity sizzled its way south as he remembered a time when she had. Virgin that she was, tentative though it had been, she’d touched him with her tongue. Tasted him.

And it hadn’t been enough.

‘It’s good,’ she said, scooping her spoon into her bowl once again? ‘Maybe you should indulge in something indecent yourself.’

‘I’ve already ordered my breakfast,’ he growled, looking away, her words grating on some dark, unfamiliar part of him, but more disturbingly, arousing him in a way he’d thought impossible. But also proving a point that was more than satisfying. He’d caught her out. She’d been wrong when she’d said she’d changed. She’d claimed she’d grown up and yet here she was, still playing silly sexual games. So much for growing up.

He pushed his chair back and strode to the edge of the terrace, wanting an end to it, needing space, both mentally and physically. On the level below an infinity pool stretched to the cliff, merging with the brilliant blue sea beyond, a sea interrupted by nothing more than the occasional vessel and the sharp black rock that lay kilo-metres offshore. Even from this distance it looked like a mountain, seabirds forming an ever-changing cloud at its peak. And something Raphael had mentioned cut through the resistance he felt at extending his dealings with this woman.

‘Tell me, is that where Sienna’s helicopter crashed?’

Marietta followed his gaze and shivered in spite of the sun, remembering the day she’d arrived here on Montvelatte and the anticipation she’d felt to be meeting Rafe’s fiancée, only for her almost to be lost before they had even met. ‘Iseo’s Pyramid? That’s right.’

‘What happened? Raphael said she was lucky to be alive. I didn’t press him for details.’

He didn’t turn around, just continued to gaze out over the sea, and for that she was glad. The memories of that day, the fear of not knowing whether Sienna was alive or dead, and the look of anguish she’d seen in her brother’s eyes when he’d thought he’d lost the woman he loved were still fresh and raw and more than enough to contend with without Yannis’s piercing gaze to throw her further off balance.

So she safely addressed her comments to the back that was turned to her and to the close-fitting shirt stretched even tighter as he crossed his arms in front of him. ‘There was an unseasonal summer storm that day. It had been building slowly for hours but when it hit, it was ferocious and wild. Sienna was a passenger in a helicopter when lightning struck the rock, scattering the sea birds and sending them panicked in all directions. The pilot had no way of avoiding them. The helicopter was hit, one of the birds crashing through the cockpit and knocking out the pilot.’

He turned so suddenly she jumped, feeling caught out. ‘What in God’s name was she doing out there in a helicopter in the midst of a storm?’

Marietta looked away, doing her best to forget about the play of fabric against firm flesh and remember back to that dark day and the anguish that had driven Sienna to flee, an anguish that Marietta had only become aware of in the following days when the two women had had a chance to talk. Of course, it sounded crazy that anyone would be up in a helicopter in weather like that, but at the time Sienna had been left with no choice, facing marriage to a man she loved and yet who refused to acknowledge his love for her. A man who had only realised the truth when she was gone.

But how could you explain love to a man like Yannis, who knew more about anger than he would ever know about love? She shrugged. ‘Sienna simply had no choice. She had to go. As it was, the pilot was lucky she was there. Sienna managed to bring the aircraft under control long enough to make it to a tiny beach on the other side of the rock. It wasn’t a pretty landing, apparently, but it saved both of them.’

‘And Rafe was here on the island the whole time?’

She smiled thinly, remembering the tension of that time, remembering the look of terror on her brother’s face when that single plume of smoke had been sighted. ‘It was a tough few hours. For everyone, but especially for Rafe. He was one of the first out with the local coast-guard, and he was there when the helicopter was found, and Sienna inside it. She had cuts and bruises but she and her babies were miraculously otherwise uninjured. Sienna maintains their survival proves that the Beast of Iseo is officially dead.’

He nodded and turned his attention back out to sea. He vaguely remembered the legend of the Beast of Iseo, where once a month the beast of the rock would rise, trawling the surrounding waters, hungry for wayward travellers and those blown off course.

It was funny how some people liked to define their monsters by the calendar. He’d learned that life wasn’t that simple. Life had shown him that monsters and dangers were there every day of your life. Not dictated by a calendar. More likely dictated by a woman. And in his case, the woman sitting behind him now.

Just one day, he promised himself as his fingers curled into fists, just one more day and he would be gone from here. Gone from her.

‘You sound like you’ve taken the Montvelatte customs to heart,’ he said, finally turning away from the rock and forcing himself back down opposite her as his breakfast was served. ‘Does that mean you’ll be staying here now you’re a princess?’

She laughed, knowing he’d been serious when he asked the question. ‘You make it sound like being a princess is a career choice.’

‘You have something better to do?’

She flashed him a glare, but he was looking away, and it was wasted, just as she knew any barbed retort she threw at him would be. He obviously had his mind made up about her.

‘You didn’t know I was a jewellery designer?’

‘That’s a full-time job?’

She chose to answer a different question. ‘My partner, Xavier, and I are actually just about to embark on a major expansion, with a gallery and showroom opening shortly in Honolulu, and we’re both really excited about it. So thank you, but, yes, while I’m not sure if it’s “better”, I do have something else to do.’

Xavier? He ignored her correction and focused in on the surprise element in her words. He hadn’t realised she was attached, especially given her comment last night about being too busy. Clearly she wasn’t that busy. Although, was it any real surprise? Given the ease with which she’d offered herself to him, she was bound to have found herself someone else willing to accept an offer of her charms. Probably many someones.

‘So where is this Xavier? Why isn’t he here with you?’

It was the look on her face that told him he’d demanded rather than asked his questions.

‘Because the opening is in less than two weeks. Apart from which, why should he be invited?’

‘You were the one who said he was your partner.’

She blinked, slowly and purposefully, and he immediately regretted pressing the point and giving the impression that it mattered to him in the least. It didn’t, of course; his interest was merely in shooting holes in her argument. There were bound to be plenty of those.

‘Xavier Delahunty,’ she began after a measured breath, ‘is my business partner, and together we own Paua International, a small but growing jewellery concern. Xavier handles the business side of things while I’m the head designer. We’ve been working with paua and silver designs in Auckland for a few years but slowly incorporating pacific pearls into the equation.

‘When the new gallery opens in Honolulu,’ she continued, ‘we’ll launch the new collection with it. If it goes well, we have plans to expand further into the US and Europe.’

Not many things took Yannis Markides by surprise. Not many people. But not for the first time, this woman did.

‘I didn’t realise you had a job.’

‘No? I suppose you imagined I’ve just been swanning around, princess-in-waiting these last few years. Whereas you’ve been amassing so much money you haven’t had time to breathe. Why are you so driven, Yannis? Is money so sexy that you’d rather have a fortune than a wife?’

Any hint of remorse that he might have misjudged her was consumed in the heat that speared up inside him, a tidal wave of resentment that brought with it more than a hint of satisfaction. This was more like it, more of what he expected from someone like her.

No surprises there at all.

‘Maybe,’ he replied, ‘it would have been nice to have had the choice.’

She looked up him, cat-like eyes narrowed and searching for the meaning behind his cryptic comment, the question already forming on those sultry lips. A question that never came as the maid interrupted with more coffee, and he turned back to his meal, suddenly reminded of his hunger and the reason he was out here on this terrace. Not to settle old scores, nor even to relive the circumstances that had given birth to them, but simply to break his fast. To slake his early morning thirst and hunger.

And that hunger had nothing to do with her!

Sienna was still enjoying a scented bubble bath when Marietta arrived at her suite. Her dresser, Carmelina, was fussing over her, bringing towels and catering to her every need, and Marietta was grateful to have a few moments to collect her thoughts. Meeting with Yannis on the terrace had rattled her, and much more than she’d realised at the time, leaving her feeling shaky, her emotions shredded. For Yannnis appeared determined to dislike her, even to hate her no matter what she did or said, and still she had no real inkling why. But whatever it was she was supposed to have done in the past, he certainly seemed to bring out the worst in her now.

She wasn’t a bad person, she was sure of it. She wasn’t perfect either, far from it, but why Yannis held her in such contempt was beyond her. She’d gone to his bed. Offered herself to him. Made a stupid fool of herself in the process. But beyond that, what had she done that was so unforgivable?

Forget him! Tomorrow would bring escape and escape couldn’t come soon enough. Tomorrow she would go to Hawaii and focus on the launch and the new gallery and getting back to her career and her life, and bury all thoughts of Yannis Markides in the process. His place was in the past. And in the past was where he would stay.

Sienna emerged from the bathroom, wearing a veil of steam and a smile so wide and joyous it rendered Yannis’s puzzling behaviour irrelevant. ‘I’m marrying Rafe today,’ she told Marietta, as if she had said, ‘I can’t believe it’s really happening.’ The love beamed out of her soon-to-be sister-in-law’s face as Marietta wrapped her in her arms and gave her a hug. And once again, the sheer wonder of witnessing a love so true—a love that was returned—blew her away. Marietta smiled and breathed in the good vibes, knowing without a doubt that her brother was one lucky man.