Mistaken Identity (11 page)

Alex could’ve prevented the takeover of the shipping company at the time, although it would’ve stretched every resource he possessed. He’d offered to save his father’s company, but his father hadn’t been interested. Con Moustakis was a close family friend, and Spiros and Elena were betrothed. His father was so broken by his mother’s death, so worn down by her infidelity, that he’d been relieved to sign over the shipping business to Con. He’d regarded Elena’s father as a brother and saw him as the saviour of the company. At the time Alex had been more interested in forging his own name in the hotel and resort industry.

Was Susan intent on breaking up Spiros and Elena because she wanted to hurt Alex’s supposed business dealings with the Moustakis family? Maybe, but her other motivation was surely to hurt someone that Alex loved, just for the sheer vindictive pleasure of it. But why was she keeping him at arm’s length?

He sat up straighter wondering whether he was underestimating her. Was her plan for revenge against him more complex than he’d first imagined? Perhaps she was merely a decoy and it was really the blonde woman who was the object of his brother’s infatuation.

He looked back at the photos. Yes! The way Spiros was looking at the blonde spoke volumes. There was definitely lust in Spiros’s eyes.

Who is she?

His fingers drummed on his desk in agitation. As he concentrated on the photos, the missing piece of puzzle hit him with the full force of a meteorite falling from the heavens. He stood, rage coursing through his bloodstream as he realised he’d been well and truly deceived. Unconcerned by the late hour, he made his way upstairs to confront his unwanted guest.

Leah paced the room, unable to sleep. Susie must’ve organised a new passport super quickly to have married and travelled to Paris in the time she’d been gone.

Alex had said they’d checked out of the hotel, which, according to their original plan, meant they were on their way to Greece. Leah had expected the newlyweds to dally far longer in the city of lights.

Were they happy together? They looked happy in the photos, but she was still plagued by doubts about Spiros’s true intentions.

Would Alex accept the marriage once he realised Susie was pregnant or would he still try to come between them? He could use the incriminating photos against Susie as proof she would be an unfit mother and to take the baby away from her. Susie would have to be strong in the face of Alex’s fury or risk sinking further into her drug dependency.

Alex.
She gave herself a mental shake. Before Soula had interrupted them with the photos, she thought she was finally reaching him. But why would she want to? Despite all the mental barriers she’d carefully erected, she was intrigued by Alex and found herself starting to see things from his perspective.

The more time she spent with him, the more she felt riddled with guilt about her deception. She’d heard of Stockholm syndrome — a psychological phenomenon where hostages began to sympathise with their captors — and that seemed to be exactly what was happening to her. She couldn’t let herself fall into that trap.

Once Susie was off drugs, she would care for her child. She’d be her fun-loving self again, and Alex would find it impossible to dislike her. Everybody loved Susie.

Soon, poor Elena would know the truth. It would break her heart, but —

Two sharp raps on the door and then it swung open.

‘Alex!’ she blurted out.

One look at him as he strode into the room told her she was in trouble. He could have been Ares incarnate, the God of War standing there in front of her. His face was a battle-mask.

‘Leah,’ he growled.

Hearing that one word made the room sway. She thought she’d faint — anything to escape his rage.

The deception is over.
Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

‘Nothing to say?’ he demanded.

She couldn’t speak. She just stood there, staring at him, feeling how wide her eyes were in her face.

His tone was accusing. ‘No denial? No defence?’

What could she say? It was as much as she could do to keep herself upright under the onslaught of his anger. Her whole body started to tremble.

‘So I’m right.’ His jaw clenched, and a tiny muscle worked in his cheek as he gritted his teeth. ‘The blonde with Spiros is your friend, Leah.’

Blood whooshed past her eardrums, the effect like the sound of a klaxon blasting through her skull. Had she heard him properly?

‘W-what?’ she stammered.

‘Your friend, Leah Bristow. She’s the blonde girl with Spiros.’

‘No!’ The word exploded from her lips in relief. She began to breathe again.

His dark eyes were intense. ‘She’s the first person you went to after you’d been to my office.’

‘It’s not Leah.’

‘It has to be Leah. It adds up. Nobody’s been to your friend’s house since I’ve had my people watching it.’

‘That’s not surprising. It’s school holidays. Leah’s a teacher and she’s away.’

‘In Paris with Spiros,’ he stated, quite incorrectly.

‘No.’

He paced toward the window. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘I’m telling you the truth. Your spies haven’t done their work very well if that’s what you think. The person in that photo looks nothing like Leah.’

He turned to consider her. ‘Have I underestimated you? Have you been a decoy all this time? Is my brother’s real interest in your friend — not in you?’

Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin in defiance, glad to finally be telling the truth. ‘Spiros hardly knows Leah.’

‘It’s clear in the photos that he’s smitten with the blonde.’

‘That just proves that it’s not Leah.’ She ran one shaky hand through her hair. ‘There’s no way Spiros could love her. They’ve only met a couple of times, and she’s definitely not his type.’

‘If it’s not Leah, who is it?’ he demanded. ‘I’m certain you know.’

She turned away from him. ‘I’ve had enough. It’s late, and I want to go to bed.’

‘Not until you tell me what you’re up to.’

In an instant he was at her side, arresting her movement with hands so strong they closed around her wrists like iron manacles.

Breathing in the fresh male scent of his aftershave, feeling the heat from his hands on her wrists spreading through her body and fusing her joints together, she felt incapable of moving away or putting up the least bit of resistance.

When she bit down nervously on her lower lip, his eyes focussed on her mouth. His loosening of his grip on her wrists — so he could rub his thumbs over her pulse — caused her heart to hammer an erratic beat against her ribs. It was an unmistakable tattoo of need.

Some of the tension of his jaw eased, signalling that his anger was abating.

The magnetic attraction between them operated at full power. It drew them together, into each other’s force fields, and both of them were powerless to resist.

The rise and fall of his chest was shallower as each breath became more strained. It was the same for her. Neither of them could stop it.

The metallic taste of her blood registered as she bit her lip. Following her action, he raised his hand and applied a small pressure to her chin, forcing her jaw to relax and her teeth to release the damaged lip. He smoothed the worried flesh back and forth with his thumb, wiping away the blood. His touch was erotic. Electric. Then he kissed her. Her heart swelled. Her breasts tingled. His lips were like a salve, healing her and making her ache with unfulfilled desire.

His lips worked their way along her jaw line; his tongue caressed her ear lobe. She shivered with longing. Like Susie, she was addicted, and he was her drug of choice. His mere touch intoxicated her, sending her spiralling into a sweet state of oblivion where she drowned in her craving for him. She was desperate for that fulfilment.

‘What do you really want from me?’ he murmured against her ear.

‘I want to go to bed.’ The forbidden words were spoken through a daze. It was an honest answer. Despite everything, she wanted him to hold her in his arms without a barrier of clothing between them. She needed to feel his nakedness again, to have him fill her aching emptiness with his maleness, and to quench the thirst of her desire.

His warm, strong hands pressed her body closer into his. They moulded her curves as his lips once again sought hers, their tongues dancing. She rejoiced in the feel of his muscular strength.

‘Susan,’ he murmured against her lips.

But she wasn’t Susie.

Alex wanted her sister. Reality crashed down with the full force of a hurricane. She pushed away from him. He didn’t want her — he wanted Susie. She was making a mess of things again.

She wrapped her arms across her aching breasts. ‘Please leave, Alex.’

His frustration was palpable, mirroring her own sense of loss. Adamant, he said, ‘You told me you want to go to bed.’

‘I do,’ she told him. ‘Alone!’

‘What are you doing to me, Susan?’ His mouth twisted with self-derision. ‘Your body sings to me like a siren. It lures me away with its magic song and makes me forget you have your own agenda.’

A knife twisted in her heart. ‘Is that really how you see me?’ She couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice. ‘A person who would lure you to your own destruction?’

‘You are a modern-day Pandora.’

Pandora. The Greek equivalent of Eve. ‘The bringer of all sorrows to man?’

All trace of trace of emotion was gone from his handsome face. ‘You‘ve brought nothing but sorrow and conflict to my family.’

‘That’s unfair,’ she said with intense sadness. ‘You’re making me into a scapegoat. The conflict between you and Spiros existed long before I met him. I suspect it stems from your childhood and your relationships with your parents.’

He looked taken aback. ‘You like to psychoanalyse people?’ His eyes held hers. ‘What made you turn to drugs? Was it
your
relationship with
your
parents?’

She grew still. He was closer to the truth than he realised.

‘I met your father once when you and your entourage were staying at my hotel in Rome,’ he told her. ‘He struck me as being fairly weak. How did your mother feature in your life? Did she go on tour with you?’

She almost winced aloud. ‘My father was my manager. My mum has always been my number one fan.’

‘Neither of them kept a very close eye on you though, did they?’

‘Don’t try to blame that on them!’ She couldn’t face him so she turned and walked to the window.

‘But I do.’ His voice came from close behind her. ‘You were way too young to be let loose in the entertainment world.’

Turning back to him, she said, ‘I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.’

‘You’re protective of your parents. That surprises me.’

‘You don’t know me, Alex. You’ve taken a few isolated incidences, jumped to conclusions, and judged me in the worst possible light.’

His expression was grave. ‘I know you well enough to know that you’re trouble.’

Didn’t men thrive on women who were trouble? It was all she could do to fight back her tears, knowing he would never have kissed her if he’d known she was just ordinary Leah. A glamorous pop star held much more appeal than a teacher. Pain gripped her chest as she watched him turn and walk away.

Alex left Susan’s room. It was only when he’d reached his bedroom that he realised he’d been side-tracked. How had she managed to do that to him? Focus and the single-minded pursuit of a goal were synonymous with his name in the business world, yet this young woman had him losing sight of his purpose. He’d gone to demand that she tell him the identity of the blonde woman but still had no answers. Surprisingly, he found he cared less and less about the identity of the blonde and more about getting answers to all the questions he had about his unwanted guest.

He rubbed a tired hand across his brow. Susan possessed the capacity for more caring and sensitivity than he’d first attributed her with. The way she’d jumped to her parents’ defence surprised him. She told him he didn’t know her, that he was misjudging her — Alex was half-inclined to believe her. She seemed so…different now.

The way she spoke to him, the way she was more reserved, more inhibited, was a complete contrast to the girl he’d encountered on other occasions.

Was she schizophrenic? It seemed the only logical answer because now she seemed like a whole other person. The drugs she had been taking may have influenced her, causing her to suffer from a drug-induced psychosis.

He undressed in his bathroom and stepped into the shower.

As the warm water soothed his tense muscles, his thoughts turned to Susan’s comments about his relationship with Spiros. She was right. There’d always been conflict between them. Susan’s appearance on the scene had increased the tension but wasn’t the underlying cause of it.

Truthfully, the problems stemmed back to their childhood. Alex’s mother had suffered from post-natal depression after his birth and had never wanted to get close to him. With Spiros, she’d been different. Maybe she’d changed in the six-year gap between pregnancies, or perhaps she had become more confident. Whatever drove the difference, Alex had felt that his mother’s warmth toward his little brother had never extended to anyone else. The bond between the two — the way she had loved her younger son, to distraction — had emphasised how much of that love was lacking in his own life.

He reached for the shampoo.

As a child, he’d initially been jealous. The upside was that his father had stepped in to fill the gap and he’d grown closer to his dad. Then, before Spiros was five, Alex started to pity him. Even then, his little brother was becoming a spoiled brat, getting everything as soon as he’d wanted it.

Their mother’s death had hit Spiros hardest. His brother had blamed their father, accusing him of not paying enough attention to his wife. The shipping company was taken over and Spiros became belligerent, knowing his inheritance was gone. He’d criticised Alex for not stepping in to rescue the company. He couldn’t understand why their father had been happy to let his life’s work go—that the old man was grieving for their mother, and turning his back on everything that was part of his past.