The Savakis Mistress

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Except for the ecstatic, uninhibited way she responded to sex. In that department she packed enough punch to flatten even his formidable self-control.

The unvarnished truth was once with Callie Manolis wasn’t enough. Despite his scruples and his anger he wanted her. Still. More. Again.

He cursed his weakness but couldn’t pull back. His need was primal, stronger than reason.

Her eyes widened. Her mouth sagged and he fantasised about plundering it with an urgent kiss that would lead to other, more satisfying activities.

‘Your threats don’t frighten me.’ Yet her voice was husky. She was frightened.

Or turned on. Damon’s body tensed on the thought.

‘No threat. A promise.’

‘You have no hold over me.’ She lifted her head and bestowed a blazing look, like an Amazon queen, defiant and proud. ‘I run my own life. No man tells me what to do.’

She gestured to the bungalow at the end of the path. ‘I’m sure you can find your own way, Kyrie Savakis.’ Then she turned and left him. She strolled easily as if she’d done no more than dismiss a servant.

No one dismissed Damon Savakis.

Yet he silently applauded her nerve. Not many people stood up to Damon.

She fascinated him. He wanted to smash past her poise and warm her body with his till the heat consumed them both.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans rather than haul her into his arms and force her submission with a direct, passionate assault.

That would be too easy, too crude. He wanted the satisfaction of her coming to him, begging for his attention.

In twenty-four hours Callista had become more than a challenge. She was fast becoming an obsession. Despite her disdain. Despite who she was. Or perhaps because of it.

Old anger stirred. His grandfather and his father had slaved for the Manolis family, wrecking their health for little pay. His grandfather had worked himself into an early grave. When Damon’s father died in an industrial accident in the Manolis shipyards his mother had received condolences, a company representative at the funeral and none of the compensation she was entitled to. Lawyers had exploited a loophole to absolve the company of responsibility. As if it wasn’t a matter of conscience and honour. As if his father’s death had been another entry in a ledger.