The Ruthless Greek's Return

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‘You think so?’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair and surveying her from between narrowed eyes. ‘I’ve always found it particularly effective. Especially with women. Most of them seem to get turned on by the caveman approach. You certainly did.’

With his middle finger, he began to draw a tiny circle on the contract and Jessica found herself remembering when he used to touch her skin that way. The way he used to drift his fingertip over her body with such light and exquisite precision. She’d been unable to resist him and she wondered whether any woman would be capable of resistance if Loukas Sarantos had them in his sights.

And suddenly he looked up and smiled—a cruel, cold smile—as if he knew exactly what was running through her mind.

‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I still want you, Jessica. I didn’t realise quite how much until I saw you today. And you’d better understand that these days I get everything I want. So I’ll give you time to reconsider your decision, but I’m warning you that my patience is not infinite. And I won’t wait long.’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she said, meeting his eyes with a defiant look which lasted only as long as it took her to walk out of his office, her heart pounding as she headed for the elevator.

He didn’t follow her. Had she really thought he would? Had there been a trace of the old Jessica who thought he might rise to his feet and cover the distance between them with a few purposeful strides, just like in the old days? Yes, there had. And wasn’t part of her still craving that kind of masterful behaviour? Of course it was. What woman could remain immune to all that brooding power, coupled with the steely new patina which his wealth had given him?

She shook her head as she left the building, realising that Suzy had been right. He was dangerous and the way he made her feel was more dangerous still. Far better that she walked away now and left him in the past, where he belonged.

Hurrying through the emerging rush hour, she caught the train to Cornwall with seconds to spare, but the usually breathtaking journey was shrouded in darkness. The January evening was cold and rain lashed against the carriage windows, seeming to echo her gloomy mood.

She leant her head back against the seat, wondering if she was crazy to have turned her back on a job which had been her security for so long. Yet surely she’d be crazier still to put herself in a situation where Loukas held all the power.

Her love for him might have been replaced by a mixture of anger and frustration—but she was far from immune to him. She couldn’t deny the sharp kick of desire when she looked at him, or her squirming sense of frustration. And if that frustration had been unexpectedly powerful, was that really so surprising? Because there had been nobody else since Loukas. No other lover in eight long years. He had been her first man and the only man. Wasn’t that ridiculous? And unfashionable? He’d accused her of being stuck in a rut, but he didn’t know the half of it.

Because nobody had come close to making her feel the way Loukas had done. She’d tried to have relationships with other men but they had left her feeling cold. She stared out of the window as the train pulled into the darkness of a rain-lashed Bodmin station. Other men had made her feel nothing, while her Greek lover had made her feel everything.

Just under an hour later and she was home. But the sight of the little Atlantic-facing house which usually filled her with feelings of sanctuary tonight did no such thing. Rods of rain hit her like icy arrows as she got out of the taxi. The crash of the ocean was deafening but for once she took no pleasure from it. Tonight the sound seemed lonely and haunting and full of foreboding.

And of course, the house was empty. She seemed to rattle around in it without the noisy presence of her half-sister. Jessica listened to the unusual sound of silence as the front door slammed closed behind her. She missed Hannah. Missed her a lot. Yet who would have thought it? It certainly hadn’t been sunshine and laughter when Jessica’s father had split from her mother, to marry his long-term mistress who was already pregnant with his daughter, Hannah.

Jessica had been badly hurt by her parents’ bitter divorce and the news that she was going to have a stepmother and a brand-new baby sister had filled her with jealousy and dread. There had been plenty of tensions in their ‘blended’ family, but somehow they had survived—even when Jessica’s mum had died soon after and the villagers had whispered that she’d never got over her broken heart. Jessica had tried to form a good relationship with her stepmother and to improve the one she had with her perfectionist father. Until that terrible day when an avalanche had left both girls orphaned and alone.

After that, it had been a case of sink, or swim. They’d had to get along, because there had been no alternative. Jessica had been eighteen and Hannah just ten when the policeman had knocked on the door with that terrible expression on his face. The authorities had wanted to take Hannah into care but Jessica had fought hard to adopt her. But worse was to come when Jessica realised that her father had been living a lie—spending money on the back of her future earnings, which were never going to materialise. The lawyers had sat her down and told her that their affluent lifestyle had been nothing but an illusion, funded by money they didn’t have.

She’d been at her wits’ end, wondering how she could support herself and Hannah, because there was precious little left after the big house had been sold. That was why the Lulu job had been such a lifesaver. It had given her money to pay the bills, yes, but, more preciously, it had given her the time to try to mother her heartbroken half-sister in a way that a regular job could never have done.

She had learnt to cook and had planted vegetables. And even though the plants hadn’t done very well in the salty and wind-lashed Cornish garden, just the act of nurturing something had brought the two sisters closer together. She had attended every single school open evening and had always been there for Hannah, no matter what. She’d tried not to freak out when the young teenager was discovered smoking dope at a party, telling her that everyone was allowed one mistake. She’d stayed calm the year Hannah had flunked all her exams because of some school bad-boy who’d been giving her the runaround. Instead, she had quietly emphasised the importance of learning and told her how much she regretted her own patchy education—all sacrificed in the name of tennis. And somehow love had grown out of a relationship which had begun so badly.

Jessica had cried when she’d seen Hannah off at Heathrow Airport just before Christmas, with that ridiculously bulky rucksack dwarfing her slender frame, but she had waited until the plane had taken off before she had allowed the tears to fall. Not just because she kept her emotions hidden as a matter of habit, but because she knew this was how it was supposed to be. She knew that saying goodbye was part of life.

And today she’d said goodbye to a part-time modelling career which had never been intended to last. She’d had a good run for her money but now it was time to try something new.

Jessica bit her lip as the rain beat down against the window and tried to block out the memories of Loukas’s mocking face. She would think of something.

She had to.

CHAPTER THREE (#u3a9fd477-e080-5212-9aef-12bf3bd3a155)

BUT FATE HAD a habit of screwing things up when you least expected it and three things happened in rapid succession which made Jessica regret her decision to walk away from Loukas Sarantos and his job offer. Her washing machine packed up, her car died, and then Hannah had her wallet stolen while swimming off a beach in Thailand.

Jessica’s first thought had been sheer panic when she’d heard the teenager’s choking tears on the other end of the line, until she started thinking how much worse it could have been. And once her fears had calmed down to a manageable level, she felt nothing but frustration. But it was a wake-up call and the series of unexpected expenses forced her to take a cold, hard look at her finances and to face up to them with a sinking feeling of inevitability. Was she really deluded enough to think she could manage to live by selling a few framed pieces of embroidery? Why, that would barely cover the electricity bill.

She stood at the window, watching the white plume of the waves crashing down over the rocky beach. There were alternatives, she knew that. She could sell this house and move somewhere without a lusted-after sea view, which added so much money to the property’s value. But this was her security. Her rock. When they’d had to sell their childhood home, this had become a place of safety to retreat to when chaos threatened and she hadn’t planned on leaving it any time soon. Especially now. She’d read somewhere that young people were left feeling rootless and insecure if the family home was sold when they went off to college. How could she possibly do that to Hannah, who had already lost so much in her short life?

She thought about what Loukas had said to her, his words both a threat and a promise.

I won’t wait long.

She picked up the phone and dialled the number before she had a chance to change her mind and asked to speak him. He’s probably no longer interested, she thought, her heart pounding loudly. I’ve probably offended his macho pride by making him wait.

‘Jess.’ His deep voice fired into her thoughts and sent them scattering.

‘Loukas?’ she questioned stupidly, because who else could make her shiver with erotic recall, just by saying her name?

‘I’d like to say that this is a surprise,’ he said softly. ‘But it isn’t. I’ve been waiting for your call, although it hasn’t come as quickly as I would have expected.’ There was a pause. ‘What do you want?’

Jessica closed her eyes. He knew exactly what she wanted—was he going to make her crawl in order to get it? She opened them again and saw another wave crash down onto the rocks. Maybe she was going to have to swallow her pride—but that didn’t mean she needed to fall to the ground and lick his boots.

‘I’ve been thinking about what you said and on reflection...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘On reflection, it does seem too good an opportunity to turn down. So I’ve decided to accept the offer—if it’s still on the table.’

At the other end of the line Loukas clenched and unclenched his free hand, because her cool response frustrated him far more than her opposition had done. He liked her when she was fighting and fiery, because fire he could easily extinguish. Making ice melt was different—that took much longer—and he had neither the time nor the inclination to make his seduction of Jessica Cartwright into a long-term project. She was just another tick on the list he was working his way down. His heart clenched with bitterness even while his body clenched with lust. She was something unfinished he needed to file away in the box marked ‘over’. He wanted her body. To sate himself until he’d had his fill. And then he wanted to walk away and forget her.

‘Loukas,’ she was saying, her voice reminding him of all the erotic little things she used to whisper. She had been an incredibly quick learner, he remembered, his groin hardening uncomfortably. His innocent virgin had quickly become the most sensual lover he’d ever known.

‘Loukas, are you still there?’

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ he said unevenly. ‘And we need to talk.’

‘We’re talking now.’

‘Not like this. Face to face.’

‘But I thought...’

Her voice tailed off and Loukas realised that he liked the heady kick of power which her uncertainty gave him. Suddenly he wanted her submissive. He wanted to be the one calling all the shots, as once she had called them. ‘What did you think, Jess?’ he questioned softly. ‘That you wouldn’t need to see me again?’

He could hear her clearing her throat.

‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘I always deal with the advertising agency and the stylist—and the photographer, of course. That’s what usually happens.’

‘Well, you’re wrong. None of this is usual, because I am in charge now. I like a hands-on approach—and if the previous CEO had possessed any sense, he would have done the same. You need to meet with our new advertising agency and for that you need to be in London. I’ll have someone at Lulu book you into a hotel.’

‘Okay.’ She cleared her throat again. ‘When did you have in mind?’

‘As soon as possible. A car will be sent to pick you up this afternoon.’

‘That soon?’ Her voice sounded breathless. ‘You’re expecting me to be ready in a couple of hours?’

‘Are you saying you can’t? That you have other commitments?’

‘I might have,’ she stalled and something made her say it, though she wasn’t quite sure what. ‘I might have a date.’

There was a pause. ‘Then cancel it, koukla mou.’

As his words filtered down the line, Jessica froze, because even though it had been a long time since she’d heard it, the Greek term sounded thrillingly familiar. My doll. That was what it meant. Jessica bit her lip. He used to say it to her a lot, but never with quite such contempt. Once she had trembled with pleasure when he had whispered it into her ear but now the words seemed to mean different things. They seemed tinged with foreboding rather than affection.

‘And if I don’t?’ she questioned defiantly.

‘Why not take a little advice, mmm? Let’s not get this relationship off on a bad footing,’ he said. ‘Your initial refusal to cooperate irritated me but your game-playing is starting to irritate me even more. Don’t make the mistake of overestimating your own appeal, Jess—and don’t push me too far.’

‘And is that...’ she drew in a deep breath ‘...supposed to intimidate me?’

‘It’s supposed to make you aware of where we both stand.’

There was a pause and his voice suddenly changed gear. It became sultry and velvety. It sounded irresistible.

‘Do you really have a date tonight, Jess?’

She wanted to say yes—to tell him that some gorgeous man was coming round to take her out. A man who was carrying a big bunch of flowers and wearing a soppy grin on his face. And that after champagne and oysters, he would bring her back here and make mad, passionate love to her.

But the vision disintegrated before her eyes, because the thought of any man other than Loukas touching her left her cold. And how sad was that?

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t.’

‘Thavmassios.’ His voice dipped with satisfaction. ‘Then I will see you later. Oh, and make sure you bring your passport.’

‘What for?’

‘What do you think? The new team want to use an exotic location for the shoot,’ he said impatiently. ‘Just do it, will you, Jess? I don’t intend to run everything past you for your approval—that’s not how it works. It’s certainly not how I work.’

He terminated the connection and Jessica found herself listening frustratedly to a hollow silence. But there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to have to change her image, if that was what it took. She would accept the makeover and smile for the camera and do her best to hold onto her contract for as long as she could. But that was all she would do. She knew what else he wanted and that certainly wasn’t written into the deal.

She didn’t have to sleep with him.

She closed all the windows, turned off the heating and emptied the fridge and two hours later a sleek black limousine arrived to collect her, slowly negotiating its way along the narrow, unmade road which led to her house.

It felt disorientating to hand her bags to the uniformed driver and slide onto the back seat as the powerful vehicle pulled away. During the journey she tried to read but it was impossible to concentrate. Her mind kept taking her back to places she didn’t want to go—and the past was her biggest no-go destination. She stared out of the window and watched as the Cornish countryside gave way to Devon and found herself thinking about Loukas and the way he used to come and watch her practising, way before they’d got to know each other.

The public footpath used to cross right by their tennis court when she had lived at the big house, and she would look up with a fast-beating heart to find a dark and brooding figure standing there. It used to drive her father potty, but it was a public space and he could hardly order the Greek bodyguard away. Not that he would have dared try. Loukas Sarantos wasn’t the kind of man you would order to do anything. She’d been a bit scared of him herself. He had been so dark and effortlessly powerful, and the way she’d caught him looking at her legs had made her feel... It was difficult to put into words the way he’d made her feel. She had tried very hard to steer her thoughts away from him and to concentrate on the fact that she double-faulted every time he watched her.

‘He will destroy your career!’ her father had roared and Jessica had promised that she wouldn’t see him—though at that point he hadn’t even asked her out.

And then she’d run into him in the village when her father had taken his wife and Hannah up to London and Jessica had been given a rare day to herself. She hadn’t gone near a tennis ball all day and that had felt like a liberation in itself. She’d been feeling restless and rebellious and had wandered to the nearby shop to buy herself chocolate. Her hand had been hovering over the purple-wrapped bar when a deeply accented voice had said,

‘Do you really think you should?’

She had looked up into a pair of mocking black eyes and something had happened. It had felt like being touched by magic. As if her heart had caught fire. She didn’t remember what they’d said, only that he’d flirted with her and she’d flirted back in a way which had seemed to come as easily as breathing—because how could you not flirt with a man like Loukas? He had been exotic, different, edgy and enigmatic, but that hadn’t mattered. Nothing had mattered other than the urgent need to be near him.

She’d offered to show him the famous borehole which was set in the surrounding cliffs like the imprint of a giant cannonball. His stride had been longer than hers and she remembered the wind whipping her ponytail as they’d stared down into the dark hollow. He’d told her that it reminded him of the diamond mine owned by his Russian boss, but she hadn’t been particularly interested in hearing about diamonds. All she’d wanted was for him to kiss her, and he must have known that, because mid-sentence he’d stopped and and said, ‘Oh, so that’s what you want, is it, little Miss Tennis?’ And he had caught her in his arms and his dark head had moved slowly towards hers and she had been lost.

The kiss had sealed a deal she hadn’t realised they were making. Jessica had wanted to have sex with him instantly, but something had made her pull back. Because even though she’d wanted him very badly, instinct had told her that he was a man used to women falling at his feet and she should take it slowly. And somehow she had.

Two weeks had felt like an eternity before she’d let him take her virginity, and if part of her had wondered if all that sensual promise could possibly be met, she’d discovered that it could. Oh, it had. For someone who’d spent her life relying on her body to help her win, who had worked through all the pain and injuries, she had now discovered a completely different use for it. An intense pleasure which had made the rest of the world fade away. He had made her gasp. He had made her heart want to burst with joy. She had been hooked on sex and hooked on him.

They had snatched what moments they could and maybe the subterfuge had only added to the excitement. He’d told her his boss wouldn’t approve of their relationship and Jessica had known her father would have hit the roof if he’d known. But that hadn’t stopped her falling in love with Loukas, even though she would sooner have flown to the moon than showed it. Until the night when she’d blurted it out to him. She could remember even now the slow way he had smiled at her...

And then her father had found her contraceptive pills. Even now she cringed at the humiliating scene which had followed. She should have told him it was none of his business, but she had been barely eighteen and had spent her life being told what to do by someone for whom ambition had been everything. He had confronted Loukas. Told him he had taken advantage of his daughter, and had threatened to go to his boss. And what had Loukas done? She bit her lip, because even now it hurt to remember him squaring up his shoulders, as if he’d been just about to step into the fray. In a gruff and unfamiliar voice he had offered to marry her.

And her response? She had said no, because what else could she have said? She’d known he had only been asking her because he’d felt it was the right thing to do and she couldn’t bear to trap this proud man in a relationship he’d never intended. Had she been able to see the two of them together—even ten years down the line? No, she hadn’t. And if she was being honest, her career had been too important for her to want to risk it on the random throw of an emotional dice. She’d been working towards being a champion since she’d been four years old. Had she really been prepared to throw all that away because Loukas had been offering something out of a misplaced sense of duty?

But her heart had been breaking as she’d ended their affair, even though she’d known it was the right thing to do. She remembered the way he had looked at her, an expression of slowly dawning comprehension hardening his black eyes, before he had laughed. A low, bitter laugh—as if she had just confirmed something he’d already known.

She remembered the way she’d felt as he had turned his back on her and walked away—a clear bright pain which had seemed to consume her. That was the last time she’d seen him, until the moment she’d walked into the penthouse office at Lulu’s—a bodyguard no longer but an international tycoon. Jessica shook her head in slight disbelief. How on earth had he managed that?

The slowing pace of the traffic made her realise that they’d hit central London and that the limousine was drawing up outside the Vinoly Hotel, a place she’d never stayed in before. The company usually put her up in the infinitely larger Granchester whenever she was in London and she wondered why they’d sent her here.

The driver opened the door. ‘Mr Sarantos says to inform you that a suite has been booked in your name and that you are to order anything you need.’

Jessica nodded and walked into the interior of the plush hotel, whose foyer was dominated by a red velvet sofa in the shape of a giant pair of lips. A Perspex chair on a gilt chain was suspended from the ceiling and impossibly cool-looking young people in jeans and expensive jackets were sprawled around, drinking coffee and tapping away furiously on their laptops.

The receptionist smiled as she handed her a key card and an envelope. ‘This was delivered for you earlier,’ she said. ‘We hope you have a pleasant stay with us, Miss Cartwright. The valet will show you to your suite.’

Jessica didn’t have to look at the envelope to know who it was from. Her heart was racing as she recognised Loukas’s handwriting—bold and flowing and unlike any other she’d ever seen. She knew his education had been patchy. He’d taught himself to read and write, but had ended up at the age of seventeen without a single qualification, other than a driving licence. But that was pretty much all she knew because he had been notoriously tight-lipped about his childhood. A sombre look used to darken his face whenever she dared ask, so that in the end she gave up trying—because wasn’t it easier to grab at rainbows rather than chase after storms?

She waited until she was in her suite before opening the envelope, so intent on reading it that she barely noticed the stark decor of the room. Loukas’s message was fairly stark, too.

I trust you had a good journey. Meet me in the dining room downstairs at eight. In the wardrobe you will find a black dress. Wear it.

Jessica’s mouth dried. It was an explicit request which sounded almost sexual. Had that been his intention? Did he plan to make her skin prickle with excitement the moment she read it, or to make her feel the molten pull of desire? Walking over to the line of wardrobe doors, she pulled open the first to find a dress hanging there—noting without any sense of surprise that it was made by a renowned designer. It was deceptively simple—a masterpiece fashioned from heavy silk and Jessica could instantly see how exquisitely it was cut. She thought how beautifully it would hang, and wasn’t there a tiny part of her which longed to wear it? Because it was a sexy dress. A woman’s dress. The kind of garment which would be worn in the knowledge that later a man would remove it.