Greek Affairs in his Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger\Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon’s Bed\Bedded by the Greek Billionaire (13 page)

At the time of course, she hadn’t been thinking of things like that, and now, as she stood in the shower, letting the cool water cascade over her hot skin, she had to admit that she had been as much to blame for what had happened as Milos. Oh, she might have had less reason to worry about the future—she hadn’t been married, for one thing—but she had done everything she could to break down his control, to make him as much at the mercy of his feelings as she was.

And she’d succeeded. She’d known the moment he’d said in that hoarse, sexy voice, ‘Yes, I want you,’ that she’d got her way.

She shivered in the cool spray, remembering the tormented look in his eyes when he’d drawn back to cradle her hot face between his palms. Then, as if seeing a reflection of his own needs in her eyes, he’d taken her hand and led her into his bedroom.

A bedroom that had been every bit as glamorous as she’d imagined, Helen recalled tensely. There’d been long velour
curtains at the windows that matched the deep gold piled carpet on the floor. The bed had already been turned down for the night, the coverlet folded neatly at its foot. There’d been soft pillows, edged with lace, and fine cotton sheets that had been cool against her hot skin.

Her shirt had already been unbuttoned and Milos had paused to tug on the ties at her waist before slipping it off her shoulders. She’d been trembling, she remembered, when he’d unfastened her jeans, but she couldn’t recall any moment when she’d wanted to draw back.

‘You, too,’ she said, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, and Milos humoured her by shrugging off his shirt before slipping his hands behind her to loosen her bra.

It joined her shirt on the floor and then Milos took her breasts into his hands, his thumbs rubbing abrasively over her sensitive nipples.

‘Is that good?’ he asked, hearing her sudden intake of breath, and Helen had swayed eagerly against him.

‘Some,’ she whispered, sliding her arms around his waist, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his trousers. Her breasts were now crushed against his chest, the hair that grew there both tickling and arousing her. ‘But I want more.’

With hands that were only slightly less unsteady than her own, Helen remembered Milos feeling between them to unbuckle his trousers, before taking one of her hands and pressing it against the impressive bulge swelling beneath his silk boxers. She remembered how big and powerful his erection had felt and even now she felt her body grow slick with the same anticipation she’d felt then.

Afterwards, he knelt in front of her, drawing her jeans down her legs, exposing the bikini pants that were all she was wearing underneath. He lifted each leg almost tenderly, disposing of the jeans with gentle expertise.

When he straightened again, it was to thrust his own
trousers down his thighs, kicking them off almost carelessly. Helen recalled that that was when she’d become aware of her own body and of the fact that she was standing before him almost naked.

He had—still did, for that matter—a lean, powerful body. Strong, athletic limbs, a broad muscled chest, flat stomach. And he was brown; all over, she mused enviously. A natural tan that owed nothing to artificial means.

His kiss, when it came, was warm and searching. It tingled on lips that were still swollen from his previous assault. Helen had to clutch helplessly at his shoulders as the kiss deepened, her legs turning to jelly beneath her.

She thought he half nudged, half carried her to the bed, murmuring to her in his own language, words that even now could cause a shiver of excitement to feather her spine. Her skin felt so tender, she remembered, so sensitised; as if he’d somehow removed a layer to expose the vulnerable flesh beneath. But she unbearably stimulated, too, and she almost welcomed the cool brush of the sheets against her bare back.

Helen stepped out of the shower now, aware that she was arousing herself again by even thinking about the events of that evening. There’d been something so extraordinarily decadent about being in bed so early in the evening, even if her reasons for being there had had little to do with sleep.

When Milos had stretched his length beside her, she’d turned to him with all the resistance of the moth to the flame. He’d been naked, she’d discovered, and she hadn’t been able to prevent herself from staring at him. It was the first time she’d actually seen a nude male outside movies, and, far from feeling apprehensive, she’d been fascinated.

‘You’re embarrassing me,’ Milos said huskily, burying his face between her breasts. But Helen had the feeling now
that it would have taken a lot more than her innocent appraisal to embarrass him.

‘Am I?’ she recalled saying, with a pathetic attempt at coyness, but Milos’s hands were sliding down her body and a quivering knot twisted in her belly.

She did remember being a little apprehensive when his fingers slid over her stomach and beneath the elastic waist of her briefs. He probed the tight curls at the apex of her legs, and Helen had to suck back the convulsive sob that surged into her throat.

Her instincts were urging her to open her legs and let him have his way with her, but her conscience was less certain and instead she pressed her legs together.

‘Relax,’ Milos breathed into her ear, catching the soft lobe between his teeth and biting on it almost painfully. ‘Just relax. You know you want to.’

And, amazingly, she did. When Milos eased her briefs down her legs, she arched her back to make it easy for him. Then somehow her legs were parted, and she could feel her wetness on his hands. On the sure and certain fingers he pressed into her.

His thumb had other work to do, rotating the sensitive nub of her womanhood with such effortless expertise that she climaxed almost immediately. Of course, she didn’t know what was happening to her. She was comparatively naïve, after all, despite all Richard’s efforts in that regard.

She remembered she was laughing and crying with wonder when he parted her legs again and positioned himself above her. So bemused was she that she hardly felt any pain when he pushed into her. And, although there was a momentary hesitation on his part when he encountered the unmistakable proof of her virginity, he was much too aroused to draw back. Besides, she didn’t want him to. She wanted to feel him inside her. And, even though initially it wasn’t the most comfortable position in the world, as her body accommodated itself to his size, the exquisite excitement started to build again.

Helen trembled now, shocked by the awareness of how sharp the memories were. She would have thought that what had happened after would have soured the feelings Milos had stirred inside her, but it wasn’t true. They were still as acute and devastating as ever, causing not just frustration but a painful need inside her.

She wondered how old Milos had been at that time. Twenty-two, perhaps? Twenty-three? Certainly no more than twenty-four. Yet he had had a skill and sensitivity that had seemed as natural as breathing to him. He’d given her the most marvellous experience of her life—and the most shattering. With hindsight, it was difficult to decide which was the most important.

At the time, she’d been sure she knew. Milos had made love to her with a warmth and passion that she’d never experienced either before or since. With his innate sensuality, he’d ensured that she’d achieved an equal satisfaction, and when his own climax had left him shuddering in her arms she’d been happy to share his pleasure, too.

Of course, Eleni’s phone call had proved to be equally devastating. Or perhaps destructive was a more appropriate word. Her call had come as Helen had been drowsing against the pillows, her body and mind still sated by the delicious aftermath of Milos’s passion, and to begin with she hadn’t been able to make any sense of what the other woman was saying.

She’d soon understood, however, and then it had been a race to get herself dressed and out of there before Milos came out of the bathroom and she had to confront him with his lies. She hadn’t felt equipped to deal with him, or with anything so earth-shattering that night. But she had been absurdly grateful that Milos had collected her parka from the attendant before they’d gone upstairs. In her haste to get away before he could demand an explanation, the parka had hid a multitude of sins.

She remembered taking the lift down to the lobby, fretting every inch of the way, and flying out of the hotel as
if Lucifer himself were at her heels. She’d refused the doorman’s offer to get her a taxi. She hadn’t dared wait for that to materialise. Instead, she’d run madly for over half a mile to the nearest depot from where she could get a bus home.

Thankfully, her mother had noticed nothing amiss. Helen had had time on the bus to finish dressing herself, fastening her buttons and running a hasty comb through her long hair. Besides, she’d been home before ten-thirty, as her mother had requested, and perhaps Sheila hadn’t wanted to push her luck.

Whatever, the next few days had been uneasy ones for Helen. Every time the phone had rung, she’d rushed to answer it, desperate that her mother shouldn’t find out what a stupid fool she’d been. She hadn’t known whether she could trust Milos not to tell her mother that he’d seen her, and, although she’d been fairly sure he wouldn’t tell Sheila what had happened, she’d wanted nothing more to do with him.

He’d soon got the message, she remembered. Humiliatingly soon, actually. Oh, he insisted now that he’d had to get back to Athens because he’d had business to attend to, but how convenient was that?

Her lips tightened. Would she have been so quick to reject his advances if she’d known she was carrying his baby? she wondered. Probably. How could she have confided in him, believing he already had a wife waiting for him back in Greece? That would have been even more humiliating, and at no time had she seriously considered it.

Instead, she’d confessed what she’d done to Richard Shaw. She’d let him think she’d gone to a party, given by one of her mother’s friends, and that she’d had too much to drink. Which wasn’t that far from the truth, she reflected drily. Only Milos Stephanides had been no friend of her mother’s.

Still, Richard had believed her, that was the important thing, and when he’d offered to marry her she’d taken the coward’s way out. The only condition Richard had imposed
was that she let everybody—and that included her mother—believe the baby was his. And that had seemed a reasonable request.

Of course, her mother had left her in no doubt that she was disappointed in her for getting pregnant. She’d let her down and, in Sheila’s opinion, marrying Richard was the only way she could save the family from any more disgrace.

Nevertheless, at seventeen, she knew she had been too young to take such a momentous step. The more sensible thing would have been to wait until after the baby was born before making any life-altering decisions. But that she hadn’t been able to do. Not without support, and her mother had left her in no doubt as to her opinion. And right then, it had seemed the only solution.

Helen sighed, shedding the towel in favour of the bra and pants she’d brought into the bathroom with her. But before she put her underwear on, she stood for a moment staring at her reflection in the long mirrors.

A woman of middle years looked back at her, no longer the innocent she’d been when she and Milos had first met. Yet she hadn’t changed that much, she thought critically. Not physically, anyway. She was still fairly slim, and if her breasts were heavier these days, that was because she’d insisted on feeding her baby herself for the first three months of Melissa’s life. Her hips were rounder, too, and she could see the faint traces of stretch marks on her abdomen. She was no raving beauty, that was certain. So why had Milos wanted to see her again? Why had he kissed her? Weren’t there enough Greek women to satisfy his every need?

I
T WAS
another four days before Milos was able to get back to Santoros.

The conference had been a huge success, with many oil-producing countries signing up to a pollution-reducing treaty. But, because of that, all the delegates were expected to stay for the duration of the event, which included attending the final evening’s celebrations, when the wives of many of those present joined their husbands for a formal dinner of congratulations and speech-making.

Milos would definitely have preferred not to attend the dinner. He had no desire to invite a companion to join him for the evening. But as the company’s representative he couldn’t get out of it, and he spent the evening dodging the matchmaking efforts of his fellow delegates.

It was a relief to get on board his helicopter the following morning and know that he had no further business commitments for the next few days. He had his laptop with him, of course, and he had no doubt that there would be certain communications he would have to make. But, effectively, he had a few days of freedom and he meant to make the most of them.

With Helen.

As the pilot took off, the helicopter’s rotors dipping for a moment as it turned towards the island, Milos felt a twinge of apprehension that had nothing to do with his mode of transport. It was the anxiety he was feeling at the thought of seeing Helen again, of gauging for himself whether what had happened the day he left had meant anything
to her. And if it hadn’t, what he was going to do about it.

Which was probably insane, given the circumstances of their relationship. How could he have feelings for a woman who had consistently lied since she’d arrived on the island? And why? What was she trying to protect? Her guilt? Or her husband’s memory?

That was an aspect he hadn’t considered before, and he didn’t like it. Any time during the past few days when his mind hadn’t been fully engaged, his thoughts had turned constantly to Helen. And to contemplate the possibility that she still loved her dead husband tore him apart.

He’d thought about Melissa, too, of course, but in his mind her future was so tied up with her mother’s that he didn’t worry about her in quite the same way. He wanted to be part of her life from now on, naturally he did, and he couldn’t deny he’d considered the part she might play in persuading Helen to do what he wanted. But he was not a malicious man and he knew that forcing Helen into a situation that was abhorrent to her by threatening to take her daughter was not what he wanted.

So what did he want? he wondered as the helicopter swept out across the blue waters of the Aegean. He wanted—no,
needed
—to see Helen again. That was his first objective. In truth, he couldn’t wait to see her, to talk to her, to
touch
her, although that might be a harder call. It was all very well asking himself if he could forgive her. What if she couldn’t forgive him?

The hardest thing he’d faced during the past four days had been resisting the desire to call Rhea. He was fairly sure that she and Melissa would have spent some time together, and the urge to hear firsthand what Helen had been doing while he was away had been a constant temptation.

But he’d withstood it, and now he was glad he had. These few days apart had focussed his mind—and, hopefully,
hers, too. Could they possibly make a fresh start? Was he naïve in thinking that this time something good might come of it?

His pilot landed at Vassilios just before twelve o’clock, and as usual Stelios was there to greet him. ‘Welcome back,
kirieh
,’ he said, meeting him at the landing pad that was situated at the back of the villa. ‘It has been a good trip, yes?’

‘Very good,’ agreed Milos, giving the answer he knew was expected. ‘Is everything okay? Is Andrea keeping well? Would you tell her I expect to be dining at home this evening?’

‘Alone,
kirieh
?’ Stelios asked politely as they walked up to the terrace. And Milos hoped he wasn’t tempting fate by telling the man that he expected a guest to join him.

‘I’ll confirm the time we want to eat later this afternoon,’ he went on. ‘Right now, I want to drive over to San Rocco and see my sister.’

‘
Kiria
Rhea,
kirieh
?’

Milos’s lips compressed. He really didn’t have the patience to discuss his plans right now. ‘Who else?’ he replied tersely. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Stelios—’

‘
Kiria
Rhea isn’t at the villa at San Rocco,
kirieh
.’ Stelios interrupted him mildly as Milos started towards the house. ‘I believe she’s staying at Aghios Petros, with
Thespinis
Melissa.’

What?

Milos stared at the man irritably, but it wasn’t Stelios’s fault that his plans had just been baulked. ‘I didn’t know that,’ he said, revising rapidly. He would probably have to wait to talk to Rhea until the following day.

‘I believe she tried to call you yesterday evening,’ Stelios continued. ‘But you were not answering your phone.’

‘No.’ Miles swore under his breath. He’d turned his cell
phone off before going to the farewell dinner. ‘I just wish she’d told me before she decided to leave the villa.’

‘I think it was a—how is it?—a spur-of-the-moment decision,
kirieh
. You were out of reach. I suppose she thought it was for the best.’

‘For the best?’ Milos blinked. ‘What happened? Did she burn the villa down or something?’

‘No,
kirieh
.’ There was no humour in Stelios’s expression. ‘It is my understanding that it was considered to be the best solution for all concerned.’

Milos was beginning to get a bad feeling about all of this. ‘The best solution?’ he exclaimed, echoing Stelios’s words again, but needing some explanation. ‘Did—?’ He hated to ask it. ‘Did
Kiria
Shaw invite her to stay?’

‘
Kiria
Shaw?’ Now it was Stelios’s turn to look confused. Then his face cleared. ‘Oh, you mean
Kirieh
Campbell’s daughter,’ he said.

‘That’s right.’ Milos was trying not to get impatient with the old man, but it wasn’t easy. ‘The young woman I brought to Vassilios four days ago.’

‘Ah.’ Stelios nodded. ‘I thought you knew.
Kiria
Shaw has gone back to England.’

To say Milos was stunned would have been an understatement. He felt as if the bottom had just dropped out of his world. ‘Did you say
Kiria
Shaw has gone back to England?’ he demanded hoarsely. He tried to think, raking back his hair with an unsteady hand. ‘When did she leave?’

‘I believe she left the day after you did,’ replied Stelios, unaware of his employer’s agitation. ‘That would be Friday, wouldn’t it? That’s right, you left on Thursday afternoon.’

‘I know when I left,’ said Milos grimly. ‘I just don’t understand why she left, dammit.’ He shook his head. ‘What the hell is going on?’

Stelios stiffened. It was as if he’d just realised that he
was bearing the brunt of Milos’s frustration and he didn’t like it. ‘I have no idea,
kirieh
,’ he said, even though Milos was sure he did. ‘Shall I tell Andrea you’ll be wanting lunch, after all?’

Milos sighed. ‘No!’ He scowled, realising the old man was offended. ‘Stelios, I know you know much more than you’re saying. I’m sorry if I spoke harshly, but—well, this isn’t what I expected when I came back.’

‘I don’t suppose it was what
Kiria
Shaw expected either,
kirieh
,’ retorted Stelios primly. ‘Now, about lunch—’

Milos was tempted to say, To hell with lunch, but he knew getting angry with Stelios wasn’t going to work. ‘Come on,’ he said wheedlingly. ‘We’re friends, aren’t we? I would appreciate it if you’d tell me what’s going on.’

Stelios’s shoulders hunched, half in resentment, half in resignation. Then, reproachfully, he said, ‘I believe
Kiria
Shaw received some bad news.’

Milos’s scowl deepened. ‘What kind of bad news?’ A thought occurred to him. ‘Had it anything to do with her mother?’

‘You said you didn’t know,
kirieh
,’ complained Stelios reproachfully. ‘If you only wanted confirmation, you should have said.’

Milos bit his tongue to prevent his anger from spilling over. He had to remember this wasn’t Stelios’s fault, even if he did have the urge to seize him by the throat and choke an explanation out of him. ‘I don’t,’ he said between his teeth, congratulating himself on his tolerance. ‘But as she’s
Kiria
Shaw’s closest relative, it was an educated guess.’

Stelios pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. Then, ‘It’s only hearsay,’ he said. ‘You do understand that, don’t you,
kirieh
?’

‘Okay.’ Milos nodded. ‘So what have you heard?’

‘I understand
Kiria
Shaw’s mother has been injured in a
car accident,
kirieh
,’ the old man admitted, half grudgingly, and Milos’s spirits plummeted at his words.

‘Badly injured?’ he demanded, but Stelios decided he had said enough.

‘I suggest you ask
Kirieh
Campbell,’ he said, picking up the suit carrier Milos had put down as they spoke. ‘I’ll take this to your room,
kirieh
. It will give you time to decide whether you want lunch or not.’

Despite the fact that he would have preferred to speak to Rhea alone, Milos drove over to the vineyard that afternoon.

It occurred to him that his decision might appear unnecessarily arbitrary, but he consoled himself with the thought that Rhea was his sister and it was natural to want to assure himself of her well-being. The fact that in other circumstances he might not have behaved so considerately was something he chose not to dwell on.

In the event, it was Maya who came out to greet him on his arrival. ‘Darling,’ she exclaimed, speaking in their own language as she always did when they were alone. ‘I didn’t realise you were back.’

‘I got back this morning,’ said Milos evenly, wondering how he could broach the reason for his visit. But before he could say anything else, Maya spoke again.

‘And was the conference a success?’ she asked, taking possession of his arm to lead him into the villa. ‘We’ve heard certain details about it on the television news, but that’s not the same as being there—’

‘Maya!’

‘—is it?’ she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I understand the speech you gave offered a compelling argument in favour of reducing oil pollution. Didn’t the Prime Minister himself compliment you on it? I tell you, we were so proud—’

‘Maya!’ This time Milos made sure she heard him.
Releasing himself from her clinging fingers, he put a tangible distance between them before saying, ‘I understand Rhea’s staying with you at the moment.’

Maya’s lips tightened. ‘Oh. Oh, yes, she is.’ She paused. ‘It was Sam’s idea, not mine.’

‘I see.’ Milos wondered what he had to say to make her realise he wanted to know what was going on. ‘Why was that?’

Maya gave him a swift sideways look. ‘You know Helen’s gone back to England, don’t you?’

‘I—heard something about it,’ Milos conceded, unable to deny it. ‘Her mother’s had an accident, I believe.’

‘Sheila. Yes.’ Maya’s expression was grim. ‘Do you know, Sam wanted to go with Helen.’

‘And did he?’

‘No.’ Maya squared her shoulders defiantly. ‘I told him, the fact that Sheila’s had an accident is nothing to do with you. Happily, he saw reason.’

‘Perhaps he only wanted to keep his daughter company,’ offered Milos tightly. ‘Was she very upset?’

Maya shrugged. ‘She got a shock, I suppose. Personally, I’m not at all convinced the woman didn’t cause the accident on purpose. She never wanted Helen to come out here in the first place.’

Milos had guessed that for himself, but he thought Maya was being unnecessarily harsh. ‘Surely no one would deliberately injure themselves, whatever the reason?’ he remarked mildly. Then, taking a deep breath, ‘So—when is Helen coming back?’

‘I don’t know.’ Maya made a dismissive gesture. ‘Perhaps she won’t come back. I suppose it depends on how badly hurt her mother is and whether she’ll need constant attention when she comes home from hospital.’

‘She’s in hospital?’ Milos was dismayed.

‘Oh, yes.’ Maya nodded. ‘It was the hospital who contacted us. Naturally Helen had to leave right away.’

Milos suppressed an inward groan. This was worse, much worse, than he’d expected. ‘But Melissa stayed here.’

‘Yes. Much good it’s done her.’ Maya was impatient. ‘She’s been moping about for days, ever since her mother left, actually. I’d have thought she’d be grateful to extend her holiday, but I was wrong.’

‘So that’s why Sam asked Rhea to stay?’

‘I suppose.’ Maya’s nostrils flared. ‘Well, never mind that now. Come and have a drink. You can tell me all about the conference—’

‘Milos!’
Melissa’s excited voice interrupted them and for once he was inordinately grateful. ‘When did you get here? Oh, I’m so glad you’re back.’

The girl came charging across the entrance hall towards them and he thought for a moment that she was going to fling herself into his arms. But she stopped short of total abandon, halting a couple of feet from him and gazing at him with obvious relief.

‘Hello, Melissa,’ he said gently, thinking how different she looked now from the petulant teenager he’d met from the ferry. Her glossy dark hair was now free of the garish artificial colour she’d flaunted so proudly, and her face was clean of any cosmetics. She looked tanned and healthy, and so like Rhea he couldn’t believe no one else had noticed.

She smiled at him a little tremulously, and he realised she wasn’t as confident as she appeared. ‘Mum’s not here.’

‘I know.’

‘You know about Gran’s accident?’

‘Of course, he knows,’ exclaimed Maya, not at all pleased to have their conversation interrupted. She glanced past the girl to the terrace from where she’d appeared. ‘Where’s Rhea? Does she know her brother’s here?’

‘Rhea’s in her room,’ said Melissa, which wasn’t exactly
an answer. Then she took a step nearer to Milos. ‘Have you come to take us to Vassilios?’

‘Of course he hasn’t come to take you to Vassilios,’ retorted Maya shortly. ‘As a matter of fact, we were in the middle of a conversation, Melissa. Why don’t you go and find Rhea and tell her—?’