The Platinum Collection: Affairs To Remember: When Falcone's World Stops Turning / When Christakos Meets His Match / When Da Silva Breaks the Rules
Abby Green
The untameable Greeks…Oil magnate Sakis Pantelides is drop-dead gorgeous, wealthy and the only thing he can’t have is his stunning assistant, Brianna – because she’s the only woman this cynical Greek trusts. Then a crisis throws them together and Brianna reveals a sensual hunger that rivals his own…CEO Arion Pantelides gave in to oblivion with a stunning stranger for just one night. Yet passion is matched by anger when he discovers the woman who came undone in his arms is a recent widow… Perla refuses to be intimidated by Arion – until she discovers she’s pregnant…Theo Pantelides wants revenge… He came to Brazil with one desire – to destroy the man who ruined his life. Whereas Inez da Costa wants freedom…to follow her own dreams – not be blackmailed into becoming someone’s mistress! But Theo unlocks a desire in innocent Inez…
The Platinum Collection: Affairs to Remember
When Falcone’s World Stops Turning
When Christakos Meets His Match
When Da Silva Breaks the Rules
Abby Green
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08124-5
THE PLATINUM COLLECTION: AFFAIRS TO REMEMBER
When Falcone’s World Stops Turning © 2014 Abby Green When Christakos Meets His Match © 2014 Abby Green When Da Silva Breaks the Rules © 2014 Abby Green
Published in Great Britain 2017
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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Version: 2018-02-15
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Irish author ABBY GREEN threw in a very glamorous career in film and TV – which really consisted of a lot of standing in the rain outside actors’ trailers – to pursue her love of romance. After she’d bombarded Mills & Boon with manuscripts they kindly accepted one, and an author was born. She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and loves any excuse for distraction. Visit abby-green.com (http://www.abby-green.com) or e-mail abbygreenauthor@gmail.com.
Table of Contents
Cover (#ue79760ce-47b6-517b-8cad-235853bc9d83)
Title Page (#u44062677-3846-54e4-acfa-18028f4545ed)
Copyright (#ucbcb60c1-f42e-5881-8673-af8d68e924be)
About the Author (#u65f8cdd5-e344-5b32-b1a3-9904b5104941)
When Falcone’s World Stops Turning (#u2ee20f9c-868f-5878-9e96-de10c622ed08)
Back Cover Text (#u68305248-0d44-5041-88bb-92dd00affcd2)
Dedication (#u542982d9-7b07-5f5d-806e-4218631771bc)
PROLOGUE (#ubbb92ffa-148e-5533-9526-d68682b4b220)
CHAPTER ONE (#ubc4eb385-90fb-5021-8f17-4894a9690c03)
CHAPTER TWO (#u740f3ca2-9be1-531b-ba52-73564f6c438c)
CHAPTER THREE (#u2acc3875-2b7b-5b5e-bd37-22c7692209fa)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u74e751f1-7abd-5b1f-8641-d8b24daa237b)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u04c8f5d8-5b48-5dd3-8543-59d6cf52ecdc)
CHAPTER SIX (#ue87ce90b-9be8-5c44-97d1-fb9f929f009f)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#uf42f524e-fd62-5980-92d3-3c1354075a57)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u09f592bf-8d9f-57bc-b390-4b89305ce60c)
CHAPTER NINE (#u3dc7aab4-b082-5da1-98d3-22cc9f4e5475)
CHAPTER TEN (#u8b13b72a-e72a-58fe-ab47-bc66393dff1a)
When Christakos Meets His Match (#u8f2418b0-67b6-5690-9830-4217b0051a6a)
Dedication (#u019a919b-2ef2-5e96-8f4c-9b1dc0f7f665)
PROLOGUE (#u82541e7f-61c3-515e-bd21-904dd97530be)
CHAPTER ONE (#u63eb3f59-7e9a-57b6-8f61-3d8d55e7e7f8)
CHAPTER TWO (#u02d29f90-0ff4-5fc5-a08e-0770f5cf72e6)
CHAPTER THREE (#u6e38e07d-959b-5ed9-9b7f-0187a4b29ea3)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u9423e923-27e0-5f85-8535-4447a94c32bc)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u22509ee9-4a93-55be-b7e2-27ba697883be)
CHAPTER SIX (#u4482fe08-cc4c-5f7b-9786-da686c594181)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u1fa35990-b6f4-5a9b-81cb-4d919364721b)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u8b1be249-5ef4-5d74-80d9-de026a1716c1)
CHAPTER NINE (#ua67730ac-6319-55ff-bf09-dad351b451ac)
CHAPTER TEN (#u39265468-95fd-55ed-a96c-9a9b9249f3bd)
When Da Silva Breaks the Rules (#u90b32692-8e03-5f3b-a79d-f4362454cd32)
Back Cover Text (#u42a6ad53-fa13-5755-bcf7-6a23f0f0c2c8)
PROLOGUE (#u71b94a22-ae73-5783-857f-389eadc21761)
CHAPTER ONE (#ua8d25397-f56c-5df5-bc4e-b70f6504e103)
CHAPTER TWO (#u5877d231-04c0-5d5b-a7c0-b271db015617)
CHAPTER THREE (#u34dee8c6-83c3-5b88-b429-6822872eea4e)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u328b3e50-5e67-520d-8aeb-71bdcc866102)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u852bec9e-6797-58b8-8b7a-26782d5578c7)
CHAPTER SIX (#u8c4e8d02-7cca-5e50-9e19-59732a871ab2)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u2abd1972-d88a-5df4-a992-e116e1beb0d5)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ubf57b5ba-31f3-5265-bafa-320fae43674b)
CHAPTER NINE (#ubec83baa-d094-5598-a02e-bdaa08d32128)
CHAPTER TEN (#u2828b34b-e2f6-5ce9-a680-b9f5a274909d)
EPILOGUE (#ua7832188-b3a6-58b7-8a37-db64cf22ce0b)
When Falcone’s World Stops Turning (#ubbd8d7b7-8adf-5bc8-ab2a-f73858d9969d)
Abby Green
She has the power to change everything…
Rafaele Falcone runs his luxury auto empire and private life with the same ice-cold ruthlessness. Emotions play no part in his decisions, and he always demands the best, so he doesn’t hesitate to ask brilliant engineer Samantha Rourke to join his company—even though he walked away from her years before.
That sexy Italian accent still sends shivers down her spine, but gutsy Sam knows it’s not just about her impossible desire to feel his hands on her body once again. Because Falcone is about to discover her deepest secret—one that will send his world into a spin!
This is for Gervaise Landy without whose influence I would most likely still be speaking into a walkie talkie outside an actor’s trailer in a car park somewhere, in the rain, trying to explain what the delay is. Thank you for all the great conversations about Mills & Boon and that first memorable one in particular all those years ago. As soon as we recognised a fellow M&B fanatic in each other we were kindred spirits. You were the one who put the idea in my head in the first place about writing for Mills & Boon, and you were the one with the tape on how to write one, which I still have, and which I will return to you as soon as you promise me you’re going to sit down and finish that manuscript. With much love and thanks for sowing the seed of a dream in my head!
In thanking Gervaise, I also have to dedicate this book to Caitríona Ní Mhurchú at whose party I first met Gervaise. From the age of sixteen I have idolized this glamorous, confident, sexy, intelligent woman so if you see any of those traits in my heroines, it comes from a deep well of inspiration.
PROLOGUE (#ubbd8d7b7-8adf-5bc8-ab2a-f73858d9969d)
RAFAELE FALCONE LOOKED at the coffin deep inside the open grave. The earth they’d thrown in was scattered on top, along with some lone flowers left by departing friends and acquaintances. Some of them had been men, inordinately upset. Evidently there was some truth to the rumours that the stunning Esperanza Christakos had taken lovers during her third marriage.
Rafaele felt many conflicting emotions, apart from the obvious grief for his dead mother. He couldn’t say that they’d ever had a close relationship; she’d been eternally elusive and had carried an air of melancholy about her. She’d also been beautiful. Beautiful enough to send his own father mad with grief when she left him.
The kind of woman who’d had the ability to make grown men completely lose all sense of dignity and of themselves. Not something that would ever happen to him. His single-minded focus was on his career and rebuilding the Falcone motor empire. Beautiful women were a pleasant diversion—nothing more. None of his lovers were ever under any illusions and expected nothing more than the transitory pleasure of his company.
His conscience pricked at this confident assertion—there had only been one lover who had taken him close to the edge but that was an experience he didn’t dwell on...not any more.
His half-brother, Alexio Christakos, turned to him now and smiled tightly. Rafaele felt a familiar ache in his chest. He loved his half-brother, and had done from the moment he’d been born, but their relationship wasn’t easy. It had been hard for Rafaele to witness his brother growing up, sure in the knowledge of his father’s success and support—so different from his own experience with his father. He’d felt resentful for a long time, which hadn’t been helped by his stepfather’s obvious antipathy towards the son that wasn’t his.
They both turned and walked away from the grave, engrossed in their own thoughts. Their mother had bequeathed to both her sons her distinctive green eyes, although Alexio’s were a shade more golden than Rafaele’s striking light green. Rafaele’s hair was thicker and a darker brown next to his brother’s short-cut ebony-black hair.
Differing only slightly in height, they were both a few inches over six foot. Rafaele’s build was broad and powerful. His brother’s just as powerful, but leaner. Dark stubble shadowed Rafaele’s firm jawline today, and when they came to a stop near the cars Alexio observed it, remarking dryly, ‘You couldn’t even clean up for the funeral?’
The tightness in Rafaele’s chest when he’d stood at the grave was easing slightly now. He curbed the urge to be defensive, to hide the vulnerability he felt, and faced his brother, drawling with a definite glint in his eye, ‘I got out of bed too late.’
He couldn’t explain to his brother how he’d instinctively sought the momentary escape he would find in the response of an eager woman, preferring not to dwell on how his mother’s death had made him feel. Preferring not to dwell on how it had brought up vivid memories of when she’d walked out on his father so many years ago, leaving him a broken man. He was still bitter, adamantly refusing to pay his respects to his ex-wife today despite Rafaele’s efforts to persuade him to come.
Alexio, oblivious to Rafaele’s inner tumult, shook his head and smiled wryly. ‘Unbelievable. You’ve only been in Athens for two days—no wonder you wanted to stay in a hotel and not at my apartment...’
Rafaele pushed aside the dark memories and quirked a mocking brow at his brother, about to dish out some of the same, when he saw a latecomer arrive. The words died on his lips and Alexio’s smile faded as he turned to follow Rafaele’s gaze.
A very tall, stern-faced stranger was staring at them both. And yet...he looked incredibly familiar. It was almost like looking into a mirror. Or at Alexio...if he had dark blond hair. It was his eyes, though, that sent a shiver through Rafaele. Green, much like his and Alexio’s, except with a slight difference—a darker green, almost hazel. Another take on their mother’s eyes...? But how could that be?
Rafaele bristled at this stranger’s almost belligerent stance. ‘May we help you?’ he asked coolly.
The man’s eyes flickered over them both, and then to the open grave in the distance. He asked, with a derisive curl to his lip, ‘Are there any more of us?’
Rafaele looked at Alexio, who was frowning, and said, ‘Us? What are you talking about?’
The man looked at Rafaele. ‘You don’t remember, do you?’
The faintest of memories was coming back: he was standing on a doorstep with his mother. A huge imposing door was opening and there was a boy, a few years older than him, with blond hair and huge eyes.
The man’s voice sounded rough in the still air. ‘She brought you to my house. You must have been nearly three. I was almost seven. She wanted to take me with her then, but I wouldn’t leave. Not after she’d abandoned me.’
Rafaele felt cold all over. In a slightly hoarse voice he asked, ‘Who are you?’
The man smiled, but it didn’t meet his eyes. ‘I’m your older brother—half-brother. My name is Cesar Da Silva. I came today to pay my respects to the woman who gave me life...not that she deserved it. I was curious to see if any more would crawl out of the woodwork, but it looks like it’s just us.’
Alexio erupted beside Rafaele. ‘What the hell—?’
Rafaele was too stunned to move. He knew the Da Silva name. Cesar was behind the renowned and extremely successful Da Silva Global Corporation. His mind boggled to think that he might have met him and not known that they were brothers. With a sickening sense of inevitability, he didn’t doubt a word this man had just said. Their fraternal similarities were too obvious. They could be non-identical triplets.
That half-memory, half-dream had always been all too real—he’d just never known for sure, because whenever he’d mentioned it to his mother she’d always changed the subject. Much in the way she had never discussed her life in her native Spain before she’d met his father in Paris, where she’d been a model.
Rafaele gestured to his brother, ‘This is Alexio Christakos...our younger brother.’
Cesar Da Silva looked at him with nothing but ice in his eyes. ‘Three brothers by three fathers...and yet she didn’t abandon either of you to the wolves.’
He stepped forward then, and Alexio stepped forward too. The two men stood almost nose to nose, with Cesar topping his youngest brother in height only by an inch.
Cesar, his jaw as rigid as Alexio’s, gritted out, ‘I didn’t come here to fight you, brother. I have no issue with either of you.’
Alexio’s mouth thinned. ‘Only with our dead mother, if what you say is true.’
Cesar smiled, but it was thin and bitter. ‘Oh, it’s true, all right — more’s the pity.’
He stepped around Alexio then, and walked to the open grave. He took something out of his pocket and dropped it down into the dark space, where it fell onto the coffin with a distant hollow thud. He stood there for a long moment and then came back, his face expressionless.
After a charged silent moment between the three men he turned to stride away and got into the back of a waiting dark silver limousine, which moved off smoothly.
Rafaele turned to Alexio, who looked back at him, gobsmacked.
‘What the...?’ he trailed off.
Rafaele just shook his head. ‘I don’t know...’
He looked back to the space where the car had been and reeled with this cataclysmic knowledge.
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