The Greek's Pleasurable Revenge

Somehow she had managed to negotiate the twisty coastal road without tumbling the car off the cliff and then, armed with a bottle of champagne and what she hoped was a winning smile, she had burst into Villa Helene and found Lukas anxiously pacing the floor.

He had looked astonished to see her. ‘Callie! What on earth are you doing here?’

‘I’ve come to find you, of course. It’s my birthday, in case you’ve forgotten.’

‘No, I’ve not forgotten. Happy Birthday.’

He’d said the requisite words but there had been none of his usual warmth, no kiss on the cheek or birthday hug.

Instead he had looked distractedly over her shoulder. ‘Have you seen my father?’

‘Yes, he’s at my birthday party. Which is where you should be. You promised, Lukas.’

‘Did he seem okay?’

‘Yes—why?’

‘It’s just that he left here in a hell of a hurry and refused to tell me what was going on.’

‘Well, he seemed fine to me.’ It had only been a small lie. Calista could have had no idea of the consequences. ‘He was chatting with Papa. He told me to come and get you.’

‘He gave you the keys to his car?’ Clearly puzzled, Lukas had obviously tried to work out what was going on. But Calista hadn’t gone there to talk about Stavros. Right up until that moment she hadn’t been entirely sure why she was there, but suddenly she had known with an all-consuming certainty.

She wanted Lukas to make love to her.

She still remembered his look of surprise as she had moved towards him, the way he had finally smiled when she had flung her arms around his neck, the bottle of champagne still in her hand, clunking heavily against his back. He had laughed, telling her to stop being silly, that she must have had too much to drink, but when he had pulled back to look into her eyes he had seen the truth.

That she wasn’t a child any more. That she knew what she was doing. That she wanted him.

Even so, he had resisted. But as she had shamelessly pressed her body up against his, chucking the bottle of champagne onto a chair so that she could thread her fingers through his dark curls to pull him closer, she had felt him weaken. And when she had finally claimed his lips, when the first split second of panic and insecurity on her part and complete shock on his had vanished, rapidly melting into desire and then into a burning passion that had seen them stumble backwards onto the sofa, there had been no turning back.

And now they were here again—in the exact same spot. And Calista was horrified to find that the pull of his attraction was just as strong...that she still wanted him every bit as much as she had that June night, even knowing what he had done, even having seen the man he had become.

For Lukas was no longer the warm, funny, laid-back guy she had originally fallen in love with. Along with the dark curls, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes had gone, to be replaced by a cruel stare and a grim determination that sent a shiver down her spine.

And yet still she wanted him.

Her whole body thrummed, all but begging to be his. He was too close—far too close—his head bent so that there was no escaping the searing intensity of his eyes.

‘Of course I remember.’ She dragged up the words from somewhere, fighting to find some control. ‘But, believe me, I won’t be making the same mistake again.’

‘So it was a mistake, was it? That’s an interesting choice of word.’

‘Yes...yes, it was.’ Heat flared in her cheeks.

‘Because, you see, I don’t think it was a mistake at all.’ He lowered his head until their lips were only a fraction apart. ‘I think it was all very carefully planned.’

‘What do you mean?’ she whispered hoarsely against the seduction of his mouth.

‘And now it’s time for my plan to be put into place. My turn to seduce you.’

‘No, Lukas, don’t be ridiculous!’ She tried to pull back but he held her firm.

‘And you know what? I have to say I am very much looking forward to it.’

Suddenly his mouth was on hers, his hand pushing up through her hair, grasping the back of her head and holding her to him. She was powerless to escape. Even if she had wanted to. Even if she had somehow managed to harness the will-power that had scattered in all directions at the very first touch of his mouth.

His tongue had easily parted her lips and he continued his relentless assault, kissing her with a force driven by need, by hunger and by the dark greed that had clearly overtaken him. It was totally uncompromising, ruthless in its pressure, devastating in its delivery. And impossible to resist.

Because despite everything—despite the whole damned mess of their lives—Calista felt herself melt, dissolve. Molten heat slid through her, unerringly finding its way to her core, where it settled, pulsing hot and deep and hard and relentless. As Lukas continued his skilful assault she found herself leaning in to him, shuddering with pleasure when his hand lowered to the swell of her bottom, tantalisingly skimming over her buttocks before clenching tight in a blatant display of dominance and possession.

She moaned softly, but it was swallowed by Lukas’s mouth as he changed the angle of his head so that he could plunder her mouth more deeply, take her completely. His hand flattened, searing into her, pressing her against the thick swell of him. If she had had any resistance before it vanished completely at the shockingly real evidence of his arousal and the deeply carnal response that ricocheted through her body.

He was moving them now, propelling her eager body backwards, one hand still holding her bottom, the other pressed into the small of her back so that he could steer her where he wanted her to go. Together they stumbled as one entwined unit, until Calista felt the wall behind her and realised she had nowhere else to go. Nowhere else she wanted to go. Nowhere except into the drugging dark oblivion of Lukas’s power.

For a second their eyes met, and Calista felt her breath stall at the darkly savage look that shadowed his handsome face. But then his mouth was on hers again, and she was lost in the rush of sensual need and the burning hunger that shook her entire body.

She felt his hand move to her thigh, lifting her leg over his hip. She wrapped it around him to steady herself, to expose herself more to the pulsing throb of him. She heard his low growl of approval—or maybe it was victory...she didn’t have the capacity to tell. His hand pushed up her skirt, his impatient fingers tugging aside the flimsy fabric of her panties so that he could feel her, slide against her, letting out a grunt, a mirthless sort of half-laugh, as he felt her buck against his touch, her shudder of pleasure immediately starting to build and grow.

Quickly pulling away, he released her from his grasp, letting her leg drop to the ground. Feeling in the pocket of his jacket, he took out a condom, ripping open the packet with his teeth at the same time as shrugging off the jacket and unbuttoning his trousers so they fell to the ground. His boxer shorts went next, before he rolled the condom onto himself with one deft movement.

Then he was all hers again, picking up her arms and moving them around his neck, so that when she clung on, holding him as tightly as he knew she would, he was able to lift her off her feet and wait for her legs to wrap around his waist, as he knew they would, her shoes clattering to the floor.

With his free hand he tugged her panties aside again. Only this time it wasn’t his finger that nudged against her, it was the head of his arousal—hot and hard and silky and perfectly positioned to sink into her.

It felt like the most erotically glorious promise in the world.

And a second later that promise was delivered.

Suddenly he was inside her, smooth and hard and deep, filling her body and soul, and her every heightened emotion tuned in to nothing except this one incredible moment. Her mew of pleasure turned into a shriek of need, wordlessly commanding him not to stop, to keep going, faster, deeper, to take her to that place she had feared she would never find again.

Which was exactly what he did. Their bodies banged heedlessly against the wall behind them, until Calista could hang on no longer and, screaming out his name, found her shuddering, hollowing release. She felt Lukas stiffen, his body go into a rigid spasm, before he too gave in to the inevitable and roared his surrender into the tangle of her hair.

CHAPTER THREE

PUSHING HIMSELF AWAY from the wall with the palms of his hands, Lukas caged Calista between his locked arms. He wasn’t going to give her any more space—not yet. Not while his breath was still heaving in his lungs, his heart hammering in his chest. He stared down at the top of her head, registering the way her slight figure shook, even though she had returned both feet to the floor, rearranging the skirt of her dress as if to pretend nothing had happened.

Well, it had. He had exacted his revenge.

All the hours he had spent plotting and scheming had finally come to fruition. Exactly as he had planned. Exactly on his terms. All done in the name of retribution.

At least that was what he had told himself. But, in truth, lying awake at night and reliving that fateful evening they had spent together had become something of an obsession. And conjuring up Calista’s image had not been purely about revenge—far from it. It had become his guilty pleasure. The soft swell of her breasts, the silky touch of her pale skin, her fresh scent, her sweet breath... The memory had transported him from the dismal walls of his cell to a very different place indeed.

He had lost count of the number of times he had travelled the length of her body in his mind, leaving no part of her soft curves untouched by his attentions, and his own body had responded in the most carnal way as he’d listened to the dry snoring of his cellmate in the bunk above him and cursed to hell the situation he had found himself in.

But now he was free. Now he had achieved his goal.

So why wasn’t he feeling it? Why wasn’t he getting the satisfaction he so badly craved? Why wasn’t it enough?

The sex itself had more than lived up to its promise. Just like the first time, there had been something about the connection between them—the chemistry, the fit—that had taken it beyond just sex to another level, as if they had been created solely for the gratification of each other. Not in an easy, comfortable way—not in the way of friends or gentle lovers—but with a wild, dramatic energy.

Like asteroids colliding in the vastness of space, their paths predetermined by a higher being, they had exploded against one another, set each other alight. And ultimately they had blown each other apart.

He could take her again—right here and now—he felt himself harden at the thought of it. In fact he could take her over and over again—keep her here in his villa until he had got her out of his system once and for all. After all, didn’t she deserve it after the way she had treated him?

He was halfway to crazily convincing himself it was a good idea when he stopped, looking down at himself. A thirty-one-year-old man, standing there with his pants around his ankles. A man whose desire for the woman in front of him was dangerously close to being out of control.

Perhaps he needed to take a step back to examine his motives. And fast.

Dropping his arms, he wrenched off the condom and quickly disposed of it, then saw to his pants and trousers, buttoning the waistband as he turned away.

‘Do you want that drink now?’ He spoke over his shoulder, not wanting to look at Calista for fear of what he might see in her eyes. He needed another drink before he could do that.

‘Lukas...?’

She whispered his name like a baffled question. The way she might speak to a person she had come across after a very long time—someone who had changed so irrevocably, so much for the worse, that she couldn’t be sure it was him. Well, this was him now. And she had better get used to it.

With two glasses of whisky in his hand he turned, bracing himself for what he would see. But still she got to him, those green eyes of hers instantly finding their target, making the glasses clink together in his hand. It was a look of turmoil—of confusion and hurt and something Lukas refused to acknowledge, let alone try to analyse.

He had made her feel bad. But hadn’t that been his intention? He refused to let his conscience prick him now.

Striding towards her, he handed her a glass, noticing the way her hand shook as she reached for it, immediately raising it to her lips to take a sip. The whisky seemed to restore her, and the flush of colour in her cheeks lessened from feverish red to a gentle pink.

‘Yes, Calista?’ He returned her question with the mocking sarcasm built up over five bitter years. He saw her flinch.

‘Whatever has happened to you?’

‘Let me see...’ He pretended to consider. ‘Lies, betrayal, deceit, the death of my father, and...oh, yes, four and a half years rotting in an Athens jail.’

He watched as she shook her head. ‘I have no idea who you are any more, Lukas. Do you know that?’

‘No? Well, maybe that makes two of us.’ He took a deep slug of whisky. ‘And yet still you let me push you up against a wall and have my way with you. Why is that, do you suppose?’

‘I... I don’t know.’

‘Still you come apart at the very first touch of my hands, urging me on as if you can’t get enough of me, screaming my name as you take what you so badly need from me.’

This felt better—dishing out the punishment he knew she deserved.

‘And you are still dressed in black, your dear, departed father scarcely cold in his grave. It’s hardly becoming, is it, Calista? It’s hardly fitting behaviour for a grieving daughter.’

‘No, it’s not. It should never have happened. And, believe me, I regret it now.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you do. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.’ He closed the space between them with one menacing step. ‘Because you and I both know, Calista, that I can have you any time I want, any place I want.’

He watched the way his words inflicted pain, sawed away at her just the way he’d intended them to. But with the pain came adrenalin, swiftly followed by that glorious flash of temper.

‘So that’s what all this is about, is it?’ She threw back her shoulders, her hair rippling down her back. ‘You have lured me here to prove that you can have sex with me in some sort of pathetic attempt to get your own back?’

‘Something like that.’

She opened her mouth, but for a second words failed her. ‘You are a despicable, vile creature—do you know that? A lousy piece of—’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He shut her down with a bored flick of his wrist. ‘I’m sure I’m all that and more. You can call me all the names you want, if it makes you feel better, but it won’t change the facts. And do you know what the worst of it is?’

He let his eyes drift lazily over her outraged face.

‘You didn’t even put up a fight. I had been looking forward to the challenge, the thrill of the chase, to working out how I was going to win you over. But in the end it was so easy it was almost pathetic.’

It was as if he’d punched her. The shock of his words made her fold at the stomach, reach for the back of a chair beside her to stop herself from falling. Raking in a breath, she pulled herself upright. Then, shooting him one last look of utter revulsion, she turned to go.

With lightning speed Lukas reached the doorway before her, easily barring her way. ‘Not so fast.’

‘I would like you to move, please.’ Her voice was brittle with anger and hurt.

‘Uh-uh. You will leave when I say so.’

‘Is this part of your master plan?’ She put her hands on her hips, as if to try and anchor herself. ‘To hold me against my will? Keep me here as your prisoner so that you can prove just what a detestable macho bully you have become?’

‘And supposing I did?’ Lukas arrowed her a lethal look. ‘You and I both know what would happen. You would be all over me, Calista. Oh, you might pretend to be outraged...put up a display of resistance in the name of decorum. But in truth I would only have to click my fingers and you would be mine. Writhing beneath me, on top of me, down on me, begging for my attentions and then screaming for more. Look how you behaved just now. It’s pitiful, really. I should feel sorry for you.’

Slap.

The weight of Calista’s palm connected with the side of his jaw with an impressive crack.

He had seen it coming. He could have stopped it. Spending time amongst some of Greece’s most notorious criminals had honed his instincts, taught him to read the situation before it happened. Lukas had always had fast reactions—now they were razor-sharp. But for some reason he had let it happen. For some reason he had wanted to feel it—that burn, that most primitive connection—to show that he was alive. To show that he could get to her. And the sting from her palm had set his heart racing.

Calista Gianopoulous—the young woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind, whose betrayal had consumed him so obsessively that it had become part of the fabric of who he was. Now he had her where he wanted her. Now her humiliation was in his grasp. And he could squeeze as tightly as he wished.

He studied her intently, standing there with her chin held high, her breasts heaving seductively beneath the demure black dress, pulling the fabric tight with every gasping, defiant breath. Her eyes flashed with a green so intense, so wild, it was as if she had been stripped of her sanity.

He should be feeling vindicated, triumphant. But he didn’t feel either of those things. Instead he was simply consumed with the overwhelming need to possess her body again. His only conscious thought was how utterly magnificent she looked.

He let a second of silence pass and tried to pull himself together, waiting to see what she would do next—almost willing her to strike him again so that this time he could intercept it, grasp her wrist and feel that physical connection between them again, see where it might lead. But instead she let her hand drop by her side, lowering the tawny sweep of her lashes. The pink pout of her lower lip, he noticed, had started to quiver.

‘Resorting to violence, Calista?’ He gave a derisive laugh. ‘I would never have thought it of you.’

‘It’s no more than you deserve.’

‘No? Maybe not. But if we’re dishing out home truths, perhaps it’s time that you took a look at yourself.’

Her head came up and there was fear in her eyes. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Oh, come on, Calista, let’s drop the pretence. You see, I know.’

‘Kn...know what?’

If Lukas had had any doubt about her part in his downfall it was well and truly dispelled now. Guilt was written all over her pretty face—not just written, but spelled out in big, bold capitals. She positively shook with it, her hands trembling as she raised them to her mouth, her legs looking as if they wouldn’t be able to hold her up much longer.

He let out a grim laugh. ‘Do you really need me to spell it out for you?’

‘Lukas... I...’

‘Because I will if you want.’

Taking a couple of steps away he then turned, his eyes pinning her to the spot, as if they were in a courtroom.

‘Let me take you back to the night of your eighteenth birthday party. The night my father discovered that the police had boarded one of the ships and found it was loaded with arms. While Stavros was over at Villa Melina, trying to find out what the hell was going on, your father dispatched you to “entertain” me. And you did a magnificent job—I have to say that.’

He paused, his whole body brittle with seething contempt.

‘Aristotle must have been very proud of you. While my father was suffering a heart attack you were in full seduction mode...while people were mobilising a helicopter to get him to the mainland we were in the throes of passion. And by the time they got him there it was too late.’

‘No, Lukas.’ Calista bit down hard on her quivering lip. ‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Oh, but it was, Calista. It was exactly like that. Before my father had the chance to confront yours, to defend himself, he conveniently had a heart attack and died. I bet Aristotle couldn’t believe his luck.’

‘That’s...that’s an awful thing to say.’

‘It was an awful deed.’ He mocked her use of the totally inadequate word. ‘Not only was he profiting from his vile trade in arms, but when he got caught out he set up my father to take the blame. He betrayed his oldest friend. It doesn’t get much more awful than that.’

‘No! I don’t believe you!’ Calista let out a cry of anguish. ‘My father had nothing to do with the arms-smuggling. And he would never have betrayed Stavros.’

‘And I don’t suppose he was responsible for getting me arrested and banged up in jail for four and a half years either?’ Lukas gave a harsh laugh.

‘No! I don’t believe that either. How would that even have been possible?’

‘Remarkably easily, as it turned out. It seems your father had villainous friends in remarkably high places. Or should I say low places?’

‘No! You’re making all this up.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you didn’t know.’ Lukas ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. ‘No doubt you have tried to dress it up over the years—reshape your traitorous actions to ease your conscience, help you sleep at night. But the fact is you betrayed me in the same way your father betrayed my father. You traded your innocence for my guilt. I just hope it was a price worth paying.’

Calista turned away from him, stumbling across the room towards the open doors of the terrace. She clearly couldn’t face him—well, that was hardly surprising. He stared at her silhouette, dark against the azure blue of the sea meeting the sky. He could feel the thrum of his pulse in his ears, a tightness in his chest that had yet to be released.

He wasn’t done with her yet.

‘So you see, agape mou, this is my little payback. My turn to let you see what it’s like to be used. To be taken advantage of. To have your body violated by someone for their own gain.’

Closing the gap between them, he placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her so that she couldn’t avoid the hard, dark glitter of his eyes.

‘So tell me, Calista. How does it feel?’

* * *

Calista tried to swallow past the shock that was blocking her throat. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest, her palm still stinging from where it had connected with Lukas’s jaw. But her brain had gone into slow motion, struggling to process all the terrible things he had said.

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