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He’d realised now, remembered the story. A pity he hadn’t made the connection earlier today. His enquiries about the Manolis family had revealed only a daughter, no scandalous niece.
This was the woman who at nineteen had been the talk of Athens when she married a rich Greek-American more than old enough to be her father. She’d cashed in her youth and good looks for his wealthy lifestyle and prestigious name, selling herself as a trophy wife.
Damon had been in the Pacific at the time, finalising work on a luxury marina complex. On his return everyone had talked of the match. Now he knew why. Callista was stunning, one of the loveliest women he’d met.
His lips twisted wryly. Like her name, Callista was most beautiful. But that gorgeous body hid a strong mercenary streak. A heartlessness that had enabled her to sell herself for a life of pampered luxury.
Deliberately he turned away, catching the startled gaze of the other woman present. ‘But sometimes it’s not fabulous jewels that are most alluring,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Sometimes a more natural style is the most attractive.’
He caught the sound of a hastily stifled gasp beside him. Callista would be used to holding centre stage at the expense of her quiet cousin. She must have read the insult in his words.
‘You’re right, Damon. Absolutely right.’ Manolis boomed in that over-hearty voice as Callista resumed her seat on the other side of the table, her face expressionless. ‘Sometimes true beauty is more subtle.’
Subtlety wasn’t a trait Damon’s host possessed. There was no mistaking his eagerness as he extolled his daughter’s virtues, as if she were a thoroughbred in an auction ring. Nor could Damon miss the younger girl’s embarrassment as her father’s bluff encomiums continued so long.
Damon’s eyes narrowed as he sized up the situation.
Did Aristides think he, Damon Savakis, who could take his pick of women, would be interested in a shy little mouse who couldn’t even look at him without blushing? Under her father’s watchful gaze she stumbled into halting conversation of the blandest sort. Then Manolis began blathering about the importance of family connections, of trust between those who had personal as well as commercial interests in common.
Damon’s lips firmed. So that was the way the wind blew. Manolis hoped Damon would fix his interest on his host’s daughter.
The man was mad.
Or, perhaps, more desperate than he’d realised. Did he know Damon intended to dismantle his company?
Damon’s gaze flicked to Callista. If their passion had meant anything she couldn’t be happy about her uncle’s matchmaking plans. Yet she looked regal and unruffled, if a trifle stiff. Her message was clear: she’d had her little adventure but now it was over.
Had she acted on her own behalf when she offered herself to him today? A rich woman looking for a tumble with what she thought was a working-class lover? His mouth tightened in distaste. He’d met the sort years ago.
Or had Aristides Manolis planned her convenient visits to the isolated cove?
The notion had been at the back of Damon’s mind from the moment he’d found her here, glittering from head to toe like some provocative Christmas gift. The suspicion had made him lash out at her when he arrived, even as he crowded close, unable to keep his distance.
Had Manolis discovered Damon’s early arrival to enjoy a low-key, incognito break while recuperating from flu? Had Manolis decided to soften him up before the negotiations began, using his niece as bait? It was the sort of underhand ploy he’d expect from a man like him.
If so, Manolis had miscalculated badly. While she didn’t mind slumming it with a stranger for hot sex, obviously her aristocratic pride revolted at having to socialise publicly with a man with working-class roots.
Anger seethed beneath Damon’s skin.
Had she bartered her favours to help her uncle, just as she’d bartered her body for a rich husband?
Disgust was a pungent bitterness on Damon’s tongue.
Manolis was desperate. Soon Damon would take over the Manolis family company, lock, stock and barrel. The notion warmed the part of his soul that, despite his enormous success, could never quite let go of the past.
There would be satisfaction in crushing Aristides’ pretensions and obliterating him commercially.
He was minded to leave and delegate the negotiations to his lawyers. Only curiosity had prompted him to come. He remembered the awe with which his parents had spoken of the Manolis family that employed his father and grandfather. The company that had finally destroyed them.
Times had changed and the mighty had fallen. Now Damon was the powerful one, the man whose word could make or break this family.
Nothing he’d seen tonight made him feel anything but contempt for his hosts.
And yet…he looked at Callista, felt the slide of her cool gaze glance off his face as she turned to her cousin. Her lips tilted in a half-smile that made his stomach tighten and his breath catch.
Whatever her motives, she’d used him, played him for a fool.
His male pride demanded satisfaction. Damon Savakis was used to calling the shots, not being manipulated.
Yet even now his body hungered for hers with a raw, aching need. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over while he still felt this tide of desire.
He decided in that moment to accept Manolis’ offer of hospitality and stay on. Not because the commercial negotiations demanded his presence.
It was business of a much more personal nature he intended to pursue.
CHAPTER THREE
‘WHAT do you mean my trust fund is frozen? It can’t be.’ Only by a supreme effort did Callie keep her voice steady as she stared at her uncle across his over-sized desk. ‘I inherit the day I reach twenty-five. That’s today.’
He didn’t meet her eyes.
That was a bad sign. Usually Aristides Manolis bullied his way out of answering awkward questions. The fact that he didn’t attempt it this time set alarm bells ringing. Plus he’d gone to such lengths to avoid a private conversation all week. Finally he’d summoned her to his study after they’d farewelled Damon Savakis.
She shivered despite the sultry air wafting through the open windows. Damon Savakis was someone she didn’t want to think about.
Her nerves were raw from an evening of stilted conversation with the man who’d alternately treated her with polite condescension and devoured her with his gaze. The man she’d actually trusted for a few short hours.
‘On your birthday, that was the plan,’ her uncle said, shifting a silver letter opener. ‘But circumstances have changed.’
Callie waited, every instinct alert. But he refused to continue.
‘No, Uncle. Not a plan. It’s the law.’ She took a calming breath. ‘My parents set up the trust when I was a baby. Today I inherit the estate they left me.’
She had precious little left of her parents. Memories and a well-worn photo album. When she’d come to live with her Greek relatives, a grief-stricken fourteen-year-old from the other side of the world, her uncle had brusquely informed her that her parents’ home would be sold with its contents. It was an unnecessary luxury, he’d declared, storing furniture. Better to plough the proceeds into the fund she’d inherit.
Callie had arrived with only a suitcase and her new lime-green backpack. The one her mum had bought for the sailing holiday they’d planned.
A jagged shaft of pain shot through her, drawing her up straight. Even now memory of that loss had the power to hurt.
‘You’ll get your inheritance, Callista. It will just take time to organise. I had no idea you’d be in such a rush to access the funds.’ His voice had a belligerent, accusing ring. ‘What about the money Alkis left you?’
‘Alkis left his fortune to his children, as you well know. I’m sure that was covered in your negotiations over my marriage.’ A tinge of bitterness crept into her voice. She cleared her throat, determined not to get sidetracked. ‘What was left I spent paying his debts. Which is why I want to sort this out. I need the money.’
Callie had plans for her future but she needed her money to achieve them. She’d sell the last of her gaudy jewellery when she left here and put the cash to good use, starting a small retail business. She’d make her own decisions and run her life without interference.
She’d learned her lesson. The only way to be happy was to rely on no one but herself. She knew what she wanted and nothing was going to stop her achieving her goal.
For the first time in years she felt energised and excited, looking forward to the challenges, hard work and satisfaction of building something of her own.
‘Perhaps I should just call the family lawyers and—’
‘No!’ The word was a bellow that made her pulse jump. Her uncle wrenched his tie undone and slumped back in his chair. ‘You were always headstrong and difficult. Why can’t you wait instead of badgering me about this?’
Years of practice kept Callie’s face impassive though her blood boiled. Headstrong! Over the years she’d allowed the men in her life to lead her from one hell into another. If anything she’d been too submissive, too stoic. She’d had enough, starting now.
‘Clearly I’m distressing you, Uncle,’ she said in her coolest tone. ‘Don’t disturb yourself. I’ll go to Athens tomorrow and sort out the legalities myself.’
There was something akin to hatred in his glare. ‘It won’t do you any good. There’s nothing there.’
Callie felt the blood drain from her face. Her uncle never joked, especially about money.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he snarled. ‘You’ll get it. As soon as this deal with Damon Savakis is finalised.’
‘What’s he got to do with my inheritance?’ The freeze she’d felt earlier clamped tight round her chest.
‘The family company…hasn’t been doing well for some time. There have been difficulties, unexpected labour and resource costs, a market downturn.’
Strange the downturn affected only the Manolis company when rival ones, like Savakis Enterprises, were booming. Aristides Manolis wouldn’t expect his niece to know that. He thought the women in his family empty-headed and incapable of understanding even the rudiments of business.
‘And so?’ Callie sank into a chair, grateful for its support. Her knees felt like jelly.
‘So when the deal with Savakis goes through, this…temporary cash crisis will be rectified.’
‘No, Uncle. Even if the deal succeeds, that doesn’t explain my trust fund.’
Aristides’ fingers tightened on the paper knife with barely repressed violence. His gaze slid away. ‘Things were so difficult with the company; I had to find a way to keep it afloat. A temporary measure to tide us over.’
A burning knot of emotion lodged in Callie’s throat, choking her, making it difficult to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing only her desperately thudding pulse.
How many times would this man betray her?
Why had she naïvely believed that finally, for the first time in her life, things would work out right?
Greed and betrayal. Those were the constant themes in her adult life. You’d think she’d have learned to expect them by now. Yet the shock and hurt, the disbelief, were as overwhelming now as they’d been each time she’d been victim of a man’s duplicity.
Wearily she opened her eyes and gazed at the mottled face of her dead father’s brother. The one man who, above all, she should have been able to trust.
‘You stole my inheritance,’ she whispered.
‘Callista Manolis! Recall your place! Now that your husband is dead I’m the head of your family.’
‘I know who you are.’ She thrust aside the panic, the distress, the sheer pain of this ultimate betrayal. ‘And what you are.’ His eyes bulged but he said nothing. ‘I thought you’d have more pride than to steal from your own family.’
His fist smashed down on the desk but Callie didn’t even blink. ‘It wasn’t stealing. It was a temporary redistribution of funds. You wouldn’t understand—’
‘I understand you’re a thief,’ she said, holding his gaze till he looked away. ‘As my trustee you were supposed to behave legally and ethically.’
Callie battled rising fury. She was tempted to report him to the authorities, now, tonight. To see just one of the men who’d used her for their own purposes brought to book.
But the thought of her cousin and her dear aunt stopped her. Justice would hurt them and it wouldn’t get her inheritance back.
‘The money will be available soon.’ His voice was as close to pleading as she’d ever heard it. ‘With interest. When this deal goes through.’
‘You’re expecting Damon Savakis to bail you out of strife?’ Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. ‘His reputation is formidable— as a winner, not for compassion to rivals. He has no interest in helping you.’
‘But we won’t be rivals.’ Aristides leaned forward, his plump hands splayed on the polished wood. ‘If my plans go as I expect, Damon Savakis will be more than a business associate. He’ll be a member of the family.’
* * *
The sound of voices at the poolside stopped Callie in her tracks. Her cousin Angela and Damon Savakis. No other man could unsettle Callie with the low rumble of his laughter. His deep tones made something shiver into life in the pit of her stomach.
Only yesterday, with her face pressed to his broad chest, she’d felt his lazy amusement bubble up and emerge as a deep chocolate caress of sound. Through a haze of sensual satiation it had made her feel vibrantly alive.
Her fingers clenched as desire pulsed again.
She was a fool. He’d used her for cheap amusement in the most calculating way. She’d taken him at face value, believing he, like she, had been blown away by an attraction too strong to be denied.
She suspected with Damon Savakis nothing would ever be simple.
His behaviour last night punctured that foolish daydream. He’d found her amusing. Her confusion and distress had added spice to the evening. How piquant, having his lover and soon-to-be-fiancée together.
She knew his reputation for meticulous attention to detail. Impossible that he hadn’t known who she was on the beach. Members of the Manolis family would have been basic research.
But he’d kept his identity a secret, enjoying the joke on her. Seducing the woman dubbed the Snow Queen must have been diverting to an appetite jaded by over-eager women. Watching her squirm last night had been a bonus to a man who revelled in power.
The sort of man she detested.
She straightened her shoulders.
‘Good morning, Angela. Kyrie Savakis.’ She bestowed a brief smile as she approached the table where she and Angela often shared a meal. No chance now of a private chat. They’d missed their opportunity last night when Uncle Aristides called her to him. Afterwards Callie hadn’t found Angela. She hated to think of her alone and distressed.
‘Sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise we had a guest.’
‘Kyrios Savakis is staying with us for a few days,’ Angela said quietly, sending a shiver of apprehension down Callie’s spine.
A few days! This got worse and worse.
‘He arrived for breakfast.’ Angela sounded calm and relaxed, a perfect hostess. Only someone who knew her well would realise her discomfort, her fingers busy pleating the linen tablecloth, her body a fraction too poised.
Callie’s heart stalled as guilt smote her. She hadn’t thought of her poor, shy cousin acting as hostess alone. She’d slept late after a night grappling with what her uncle had conceded about their bleak financial situation. Reliving the horror of discovering Damon’s identity and true character.
‘Your uncle kindly invited me to sample more of your hospitality,’ a deep voice murmured from across the table.
Did she imagine a wry emphasis on the last two words? As if he referred to a service she might personally provide?
He couldn’t be so crass. Could he?
Slowly Callie turned to face him, ignoring the escalating thud of her pulse.
