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‘No. In fact I enjoy being challenged. There is no point in winning if there is no one else in the race.’
It was the sort of remark she’d come to expect of him. He was so confident about everything. So sure of himself. There was no doubt in her mind that this man had never felt out of place in his life. ‘If you’re bored, then please feel free to go and find something more interesting to do,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.’
In fact she wished he would leave her on her own, because then she could talk some sense into herself. She found him incredibly, impossibly distracting and it was ridiculous to feel this way when he clearly considered the chemistry between them to be nothing short of an inconvenience.
Looking at his dark, luxuriant lashes and his wide, sensuous mouth, she felt the strength ooze from her body. She just wanted him to kiss her.
Those dark eyes locked on hers and the strength of the connection between them was so powerful that it shook her. ‘My father likes you.’
‘And I like him.’ Her mouth was dry and her heart was thumping. ‘He’s an extremely nice man.’
They were talking about his father, but she knew, she just knew, that he was as distracted as she was. The chemistry between them was a living thing, a wild and dangerous force, curling itself around them like a million invisible threads.
Did he want to kiss her, too?
Was he thinking what she was thinking?
As if in answer to her question, Angelos dropped his gaze to her mouth and his eyes darkened. ‘“Nice” is a non-descriptive word that should almost always be substituted with something more specific. What are you trying to say? That’s he’s rich? Quite handsome for his age?’
They were talking, and yet an entirely different conversation was going on between them—one that didn’t involve words. The air vibrated with the force of it, and Chantal’s nerves were strained tight. She didn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t as if they were flirting. In fact, the words they were exchanging were barely civil.
‘I’m trying to say that he’s kind and approachable.’ The heat around them rose to stifling proportions and her heart thumped uncomfortably. The atmosphere made her feel so jumpy that she was about to stand up in an attempt to disturb the tension when Maria walked onto the terrace and quietly informed Angelos that he was needed on the phone.
Her words shattered the explosive atmosphere and achieved what neither of them had managed to achieve by themselves.
With a sharply indrawn breath, Angelos rose to his feet. ‘It will be the Athens office.’ He looked at Chantal, but his glance was brief, as if he didn’t trust himself to look for longer. ‘This is going to take a while. Maria will show you to your room.’
CHAPTER FIVE (#u76146323-4af4-565b-81f8-c255ca4dcd7f)
CHANTAL watched as he walked away from her, hating herself for feeling regret at his departure. What was it about him that was so irresistibly attractive? He was breathtakingly handsome, of course, but it couldn’t be just that, could it? Perhaps it was his strength—that aura of power that clung to him—or perhaps it was something else entirely.
It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that she was helplessly, hopelessly attracted to him and it didn’t make any difference that their relationship had been doomed from the start.
Their mutual desire was awkward, she admitted silently, finally turning her head and studying the still, glass-like surface of the pool. Confusing. He didn’t want to feel it because Isabelle clearly wasn’t the sort of woman who drew his admiration. She didn’t want to feel it because he wasn’t the sort of man she could ever get involved with.
Suddenly aware that Maria was waiting patiently to escort her into the villa, Chantal rose quickly and followed her down a different path and into a fabulous bedroom suite that opened directly onto the pool terrace. It was light and airy, decorated entirely in white, and brightened by touches of deep blue. Colourful oil paintings adorned the walls and a large rug softened the floor. It was tasteful and understated, and as she glanced through an open door into a spacious, marble bathroom Chantal tried not to look over-awed.
If this was a guest bedroom, she couldn’t begin to imagine what the master suite was like—and if Angelos Zouvelekis thought this was living ‘simply’ then she could only feel relieved that she wouldn’t be exposed to any of the other aspects of his life.
But she already knew that their lives were as different as it was possible to be. He had wealth and he had family. She had neither. And as for possessions—
She turned and glanced at her one small case, which now stood in the middle of the room. It was a forlorn reminder of the fundamental differences in their lives.
What was she doing here?
Maria was watching her, her expression sympathetic, as if she sensed Chantal’s growing misery.
‘I will help you unpack,’ she volunteered, but Chantal shook her head vigorously, her face burning with embarrassment at the thought of this woman seeing her lack of belongings.
She waited for Maria to leave, then opened the case herself and stared at the few outfits she’d brought with her.
Two dresses, a skirt, a pair of shorts, a few cheap tops and a swimming costume.
That was it. Nothing glamorous. Nothing that suited a few hedonistic weeks with a billionaire.
She didn’t belong here.
What arrogance had made her think her presence would have any effect on his father’s recovery? It was inevitable that Costas Zouvelekis would discover that their relationship wasn’t real and once he discovered the truth everything would be worse.
She should never have come.
And she should never have used that ticket to the ball.
Pretending was one thing; actually trying to live a life that wasn’t hers was dangerous and delusional.
But what could she do? For the time being, at least, she was trapped here and she had to make the best of it.
She fingered one of the dresses, wondering whether she could adapt it in some way. Or perhaps she didn’t need to. Angelos had said that there was no dressing up on the island, so hopefully what she’d brought with her would be fine. She just had a sinking feeling that her idea of simple and his weren’t going to coincide.
Hot and uncomfortable after her journey, she was just contemplating a shower when a faint breeze blew through the window. Walking across to the open doors, Chantal stared at the pool glistening in the afternoon sunlight. The water looked cool and inviting, and she couldn’t think of a reason why she shouldn’t swim.
Angelos was working and Costas was resting, so no one would be watching her. And by the time Angelos returned from making his next million she would be back in her room.
In fact, if she was very clever, it might be possible to avoid him for the entire fortnight. If Angelos worked during the day then their paths would only cross at mealtimes.
Angelos completed the last of his phone calls and ran a hand over his face in mounting frustration.
It was clear that his presence was needed in Athens. Ordinarily he would have taken a helicopter back to the city for a few days, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving until he was satisfied that his father was making a good recovery. Nor did he want to leave the older man with a woman less than half his age—especially when the woman in question fulfilled his father’s definition of female perfection and was known to favour older men.
Just thinking about her made his stress levels soar to dangerous heights and he rose to his feet with a soft curse, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension that had been mounting since he’d picked her up from the streets of Paris.
His body was humming with unfulfilled desire and he suppressed it ruthlessly.
What he needed was exercise: a hard, demanding physical workout that would use up some of his excess energy and take his mind off his ravenous libido. A hundred laps of the pool would be nowhere near as mentally and physically invigorating as truly satisfying sex, but it was the only thing on offer so it would have to do.
He flicked off the computer, found a pair of swimming shorts and strolled out onto the terrace, flexing the muscles of his shoulders in readiness.
So focused was he on his own needs that he felt a flare of irritation when he heard a soft splash coming from the pool and realised that someone else had shared his idea.
It couldn’t be his father, because he was resting, which meant that it could only be the one person he’d been hoping to avoid.
His first reaction was to acknowledge that she was a remarkably good swimmer. Accustomed to women who preferred to pose by the edge of the pool rather than actually expose themselves to the realities of getting wet, he watched for a moment, surprised by her skill. She slid through the water with the fluid grace of a sea creature and Angelos was gripped by an attack of lust so powerful that it shocked him.
Also accustomed to being with women whose choice of swimwear could only be described as minimal, he couldn’t immediately understand why a plain black swimming costume, clearly designed for sport rather than seduction, could have had such a powerful effect on him. A few minutes of studied concentration gave him the answer. His reaction had nothing to do with the swimming costume itself and everything to do with the woman wearing it.
The costume moulded to her shapely body, emphasising her long, slender legs, the tempting curve of her hips and her astonishingly small waist. Her body was incredible, and a rush of red-hot lust engulfed him. His reaction to her was so absolutely primitive that he took a step backwards, seriously disconcerted by the almost overpowering response of his body. He was not a man who indulged in thoughtless, mindless sex. Not since his teenage years had impulse played any part in his relationships.
It was true that beautiful women played an extremely important part in his life, but he was fiercely exacting in his choice and he was always the one in control. He made the rules. Relationships began and ended when he decided they should begin and end.
Understanding the true meaning of the word temptation for the first time in his life, Angelos inhaled deeply and attempted to obliterate thoughts that were as inappropriate as they were unwelcome. But his head was filled with a disturbingly clear image of her lush breasts trapped against his body and those long, long legs wrapped around his waist.
After the stress of the past two weeks, all he wanted to do was drag her out of the pool, strip her naked, and slake his lust in a vigorous session of mindless sex designed to leave them both numb and exhausted. At that precise moment he didn’t actually care that she represented everything he despised in a woman. He’d even stopped caring that she’d ripped off two vulnerable men. How could that possibly affect him? Vulnerable wasn’t a word that appeared in his vocabulary, so he wasn’t in the least bit worried for himself. He was as tough and uncompromising as she was and all that interested him was a thorough exploration of the physical connection that drew them together.
Trapped in a vortex of sexual hunger, he suddenly acknowledged a more immediate problem.
Once she finished the lap and saw him, she’d also see the very visible outwards signs of his reaction to her.
Solving the problem with his customary decisiveness, Angelos strode to the edge of the pool and executed a perfect dive, plunging head-first into the deep end and allowing the cool water to close around his thoroughly overheated body.
He rose to the surface and then powered through the water in a perfect crawl, reaching the side just as she turned.
He saw from the shock in her eyes that she hadn’t been aware of his presence until that moment.
‘I didn’t know anyone was—I thought you were working—’ The water clung to her cheeks and her upper lip, and her dark eyelashes were fused into spikes. Far from attempting to keep her hair dry and away from the vicious attack of the pool chemicals, she’d obviously swum under the water and it now lay sleek and smooth against her head. Wet, it was darker than its usual shade, but her eyes still sparkled the same miraculous blue.
Disconcerted by the feeling that this whole situation was slowly spiralling out of control, Angelos dragged his eyes away from the tempting fullness of her mouth. The cold water was supposed to have helped.
‘I needed some exercise.’ Suddenly he wished he’d chosen a run on the beach as an alternative to the swim. It would have been hot, but he doubted that it was possible to be any hotter than he was at the moment. His entire body felt as though someone had lit a furnace inside it.
How was it possible to feel hot in cold water?
‘Did you finish your business?’ It was an innocent enough question, but sufficient to remind him of the stress he’d been trying to put out of his mind.
‘For now.’ Deciding that lingering next to her was putting unacceptable pressure on his self-control, Angelos terminated the conversation by plunging forward and swimming twenty lengths in rapid succession, pushing his body to the limits as he chose athletic endeavour as a means to work off some of his mounting tension.
He finished yet another length, and turned, but this time his body collided with something soft and yielding.
She gave a soft gasp and swallowed a mouthful of water as she sank below the surface of the pool.
‘Theos mou—’ Angelos immediately hauled her back to the surface, his hands sliding round her waist to support her as she choked and coughed. In the water she was slippery and lithe, and she rested her hands on his shoulders as she regained her breath. His fingers felt the smoothness of her skin and the surprising delicacy of her frame. He’d just decided that touching her had been a mistake of monumental proportions, when she looked at him. The light in her eyes changed from a sparkle of blue to a deeper shade and Angelos suddenly wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life before.
Without thinking, he lowered his head and kissed her. Instantly her mouth opened in response to the demands of his. He probed with his tongue and the hot, sweet flavour of her mouth sent fire spurting through his veins. His fingers tightened on her waist and he pulled her hard against him, feeling her lithe, sinuous body twine itself around the hard length of his like a delicate flower seeking support and strength. She pressed herself against him, clearly as hungry for him as he was for her, and the last desperate flicker of self-restraint died inside him.
He was immersed in her—the scent of her, the feel of her, the race of her heart against his seeking hands—and his physical arousal was so powerful that it obliterated all other thought.
The water of the pool lapped quietly around them, and his kiss changed from exploratory to hard and savagely urgent. Fantasy merged with reality as her legs wound themselves around his waist and he felt her feminine mound press against him. He slid her costume from her shoulders. Her nipples were hard against his chest, physical evidence that her degree of desperation was no less than his. His hands swift and skilled, he tugged her costume down her legs. She unwound herself from him for long enough to free herself of the wet cloth, and then she was pressing against him again, and this time it was her hands that were doing the exploring.
Angelos felt her seeking fingers close around him. Light exploded in his head and a desperate urgency consumed him. The entire focus of his world became this one moment. This one woman.
Pumped up, and more aroused than he’d ever been in his life before, he closed his hands over the top of her thighs, driven by an almost primal need for satisfaction. In the water she was weightless, and she writhed and moved against him as she searched instinctively for the ultimate connection. Taking control, Angelos dug his fingers into her soft flesh and angled himself slightly until the tip of his erection finally met the burning heat of her damp core. The contact drew a gasp from her lips, and for a moment they remained poised on the very edge of the final intimacy. Then Angelos could wait no more. He entered her with a smooth, expert thrust and drove himself full length into her soft, quivering body.
She was exquisitely, maddeningly tight, and as her moist feminine heat closed around him his world imploded. Dimly he registered the sudden tension in her body, and felt a sharp pain in his shoulders as she dug her nails into hard muscle. His brain tried desperately to decipher the signals, but she was hot, so unbearably, deliciously hot after the cold of the water, that it took him a moment to clear his head sufficiently and register that something wasn’t as he’d expected. He tried to control his own reaction, but at that moment her vice-like grip on his shoulders eased and she slid her arms round his neck, drawing closer to him as she moved her hips and pressed herself to him, urging him on.
Her soft moans of excitement drove him over the edge and his mind emptied. Blind to everything except the lure of immediate pleasure, Angelos surged into her again and again, losing himself in her soft heat, his usual self-control entirely absent, obliterated by a degree of sensation so overwhelming that it fell outside even his experience.
He felt her sudden gasp of disbelief, felt her body tremble against his, and then she shot into a climax so intense that the aftershocks ripped through his failing control. His own excitement amplified by her abandoned, extravagant response, he ground into her one more time before his body erupted and agonising pleasure transported him into a different stratosphere.
Angelos recovered first and, despite the unusually slow workings of his brain, realised that he had to do something with the limp, satiated woman who was currently clinging to him, her arms around his neck, her head buried in his shoulder.
Although they were shielded to some extent by the lush foliage that crowded and coloured the terrace, it was still an extremely public place.
What the hell had they both been thinking?
And then he realised that neither of them had been thinking at all. If he had been thinking then he wouldn’t have chosen the swimming pool as a venue for an erotic encounter with a woman. The concept of sex as a spectator sport had never interested him and, given that sex was clearly an experience that was entirely new to her, he could only assume that she hadn’t been thinking, either.
And that, of course, raised any number of questions.
But none of them could be voiced at this particular moment.
His stunned reaction to the realisation that she had been a virgin was eclipsed by the more immediate need to return her exquisite body to the swimming costume before someone walked onto the terrace and saw her naked.
Discovering that his skills at dressing a woman were by no means as well developed as his skills at undressing, Angelos slid a hand down her leg and attempted to ease her back into the costume. Despite marshalling all his powers of concentration, her full, creamy breasts were temptingly close and his movements were hindered by the fact that she flopped limp and unresisting in his arms.
‘We have to get you dressed,’ he breathed with exasperation, finally sliding the costume as far as her waist and then lifting her away from him in order to tackle the arms.
She was as limp as a rag doll, and when her eyes finally lifted to his she appeared to have difficulty focusing. With a soft curse he yanked at the straps of her costume and slid them over her arms until her body was finally covered.
Having achieved that first objective, Angelos lifted one of her hands and placed it on the side of the pool, so that she could support herself in the water. Then he stepped back from her, consciously placing distance between them. ‘Talk to me.’
His sharp command was met by dazed silence. She was looking at him as though he was from another planet, and he knew the feeling because he’d never felt so disconnected from reality in his life. Finally her lips moved, but no sound emerged. She appeared to be having difficulty forming words.
Against his will, his eyes were drawn to the softness of her mouth and he felt his body stir again. Perplexed and infuriated by the effect she was having on him, he stepped forward again, put his hands on her waist and lifted her bodily out of the water. It was clear to him that if there was any hope of a conversation it wouldn’t be with both of them half naked in the pool—and anyway, the cold water was proving to be a remarkably ineffective libido-dampener.
Having lifted her clear of the water, Angelos placed his hands on the side and the muscles bunched in his shoulders as he levered himself upwards and sprang from the pool.
Water streaming off his body, he prowled over to the nearest sun lounger and reached for a towel. Securing it firmly around his waist, he took several deep breaths. Only then, when he was confident that he was back in control, did he turn to face her.
She hadn’t moved.
She was still seated on the side of the pool, where he’d left her, like a doll whose body wasn’t capable of independent movement.
With a soft curse he strode over to her, hauled her to her feet and wrapped a towel around her shivering frame with businesslike efficiency. Then he pushed her into the nearest chair, his mind returning to its usual state of focus now that she was covered. ‘Start talking.’
Talking?
He wanted her to speak about what had just happened?
Feeling dazed, and slightly removed from what was happening around her, Chantal stared at him blankly.
She had no idea what she was supposed to say. For her it had been—
She gave up trying to find the words. What exactly did he want to hear? That she was now a different person from the one she’d been yesterday? That it had surpassed her wildest dreams? That she could have happily stayed in that pool with him for the rest of her life?
Her gaze slid to his, but the contact was too much, too intimate, and she looked away immediately. But not before a disturbing image of him half naked had been imprinted on her brain. He was a vision of masculine power, with water glistening on his powerful torso, his eyes disturbingly intent as they rested on her face.
And still she couldn’t speak—because the words were all jammed together in her head and she had no idea how to articulate the fact that everything felt different now.
Why didn’t he say something? Or was he pretending that it hadn’t happened?
