Wed For His Secret Heir
Chantelle Shaw
From one-night mistress…To pregnant bride!With a new acquisition at stake, Giannis Gekas must shake his playboy reputation. Enlisting beautiful Ava Sheridan to pose as his fiancée should be the key. Yet behind closed doors, their attraction is anything but fake! But Giannis is furious when he learns Ava is keeping the consequences of their passion a secret. Now to legitimise his child, Giannis has only one option—make Ava his wife!
From one-night mistress...
To pregnant bride!
With a new acquisition at stake, Giannis Gekas must shake his playboy reputation. Enlisting beautiful Ava Sheridan to pose as his fiancée should be the key. Yet behind closed doors, their attraction is anything but fake! But Giannis is furious when he learns Ava is keeping the consequences of their passion a secret. Now to legitimize his child, Giannis has only one option—make Ava his wife!
CHANTELLE SHAW lives on the Kent coast and thinks up her stories while walking on the beach. She has been married for over thirty years and has six children. Her love affair with reading and writing Mills & Boon stories began as a teenager, and her first book was published in 2006. She likes strong-willed, slightly unusual characters. Chantelle also loves gardening, walking and wine!
Also by Chantelle Shaw (#ufec4b4d9-c540-52f1-a6b2-6cf5589fb480)
Trapped by Vialli’s Vows
Acquired by Her Greek Boss
Hired for Romano’s Pleasure
The Howard Sisters miniseries
Sheikh’s Forbidden Conquest
A Bride Worth Millions
Bought by the Brazilian miniseries
Mistress of His Revenge
Master of Her Innocence
The Saunderson Legacy miniseries
The Secret He Must Claim
The Throne He Must Take
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Wed for His Secret Heir
Chantelle Shaw
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-07239-7
WED FOR HIS SECRET HEIR
© 2018 Chantelle Shaw
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For my gorgeous grandson Casey James
Contents
Cover (#u30b8f1d7-b271-5dc3-9190-6290c258542b)
Back Cover Text (#u2b2b3645-22ad-5260-b78f-6f32909702da)
About the Author (#uf20dfa85-62e3-5a7a-9615-e002c5ec899a)
Booklist (#u5438eaf0-aa2f-5fe5-a0c6-ff3568e0f413)
Title Page (#u1be32ee5-e77e-566e-b881-904265f96430)
Copyright (#u0e97a640-7871-57cf-80a7-1e3ee4c9983d)
Dedication (#ue3e9d871-af17-5afc-bcc0-dd14f4475708)
CHAPTER ONE (#u1afc5e2a-c140-5055-ae3b-e7511e308929)
CHAPTER TWO (#u46c6b24b-552e-5534-a648-e9991c02bce6)
CHAPTER THREE (#u59613f7c-8ab6-5ffe-ba87-af9cdf3cc300)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ufec4b4d9-c540-52f1-a6b2-6cf5589fb480)
THE PRE-DINNER DRINKS seemed to be lasting for ever. Giannis Gekas glanced at his watch as his stomach rumbled. He had been in meetings all day and the tired-looking sandwich his PA had brought him at lunchtime had lived up to its appearance.
He sipped his Virgin Mary cocktail and considered eating the celery stalk that garnished the drink. The voices of the other guests in the banqueting hall merged into a jangle of white noise, and he edged behind a pillar to avoid having to make small talk with people he did not know and had no interest in.
It was then that he spotted a woman rearranging the place name cards on one of the circular dining tables. He supposed she might be a member of the events management team responsible for organising the charity fundraising dinner and auction. But she was wearing an evening gown, which suggested that she was a guest, and she cast a furtive glance over her shoulder as she switched the name cards.
When Giannis had taken the private lift from his penthouse suite in the exclusive London hotel, down to the foyer, he had checked the seating plan in the banqueting hall to find out where he would be sitting for the dinner. He wondered why the woman had put herself next to him. It was not the first time such a thing had happened, he acknowledged with weary cynicism. The phenomenal success of his cruise line company had propelled him to the top of the list of Europe’s richest businessmen.
He had been blessed with good looks and even before he had accrued his wealth women had pursued him, since he was a teenager taking tourists on sailing trips around the Greek islands on his family’s boat. At eighteen, he had relished the attention of the countless nubile blondes who had flocked around him, but at thirty-five he was more selective.
The woman was blonde, admittedly, but she was not his type. He thought briefly of his last mistress Lise—a tall, toned Swedish swimwear model. He had dated her for a few months until she had started dropping hints about marriage. The dreaded ‘m’ word spelled the end of Giannis’s interest, and he had ended the affair and arranged for Lise to be sent a diamond bracelet from an exclusive London jewellers, where he had an account.
Dinner would be served at seven-thirty and guests were beginning to take their places at the various tables. Giannis strolled over to where the woman was holding on tightly to the back of a chair as if she expected to be challenged for the seat. Her hair was the colour of honey and fell in silky waves to halfway down her back. As he drew closer to her, he noted that her eyes were the soft grey of rain clouds. She was attractive rather than beautiful, with defined cheekbones and a wide, pretty mouth that captured his attention. The full lips were frankly sensual, and as he watched her bite her lower lip he felt a frisson of desire to soothe the place with his tongue.
Surprised by his body’s response, after he had decided that the woman did not warrant a second look, Giannis roamed his eyes over her. She was average height, with a slim waist and unfashionably curvaceous breasts and hips. Once again he felt a tightening in his groin as he allowed his gaze to linger on the creamy mounds displayed to perfection by the low-cut neckline of her black silk jersey dress.
She wore no jewellery—which was unusual at a high society event. Most of the other female guests were bedecked with gold and diamonds, and her lack of sparkling adornments focused his attention on the lustrous creaminess of her shoulders and décolleté.
He halted beside the table. ‘Allow me,’ he said smoothly as he drew out her chair and waited for her to sit down, before he lowered his tall frame onto the seat next to her. ‘It appears that we will be companions for the evening...’ he paused and glanced down at the table ‘...Miss Ava Sheridan.’
Wary grey eyes flew to his face. ‘How do you know my name?’
‘It is written on the card in front of you,’ he said drily, wondering if she would explain why she had swapped the place cards.
A pink stain swept along her cheekbones but she quickly composed herself and gave him a hesitant smile. ‘Oh, yes. Of course.’ She caught her lower lip between her even white teeth and a flame flickered into life inside him. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Gekas.’
‘Giannis,’ he said softly. He leaned back in his chair, turning his upper body so that he could focus his full attention on her, and smiled. With a sense of predictability, he watched her eyes darken, the pupils dilating. Charm came effortlessly to him. He had discovered when he was a youth that he had something: charisma, magnetism—whatever it was called, Giannis had it in bucketfuls. People were drawn to him. Men respected him and wanted his friendship—often only discovering after he had beaten them in a business deal that his laid-back air hid a ruthless determination to succeed. Women were fascinated by him and wanted him to take them to bed. Always.
Ava Sheridan was no different. Giannis offered her his hand and after an infinitesimal hesitation she placed her fingers in his. He lifted her hand to his mouth and she caught her breath when he brushed his lips across her knuckles.
Yes, she was attracted to him. What surprised him more was the shaft of white-hot desire that swept through him and made him uncomfortably hard. Thankfully, the lower half of his body was hidden beneath the folds of the tablecloth. He was relieved when more guests took their seats at the table and while introductions were made and waiters arrived to pour the wine and serve the first course Giannis regained control of his libido. He even felt amused by his reaction to Ava Sheridan, who was simply not in the same league as the sophisticated models and socialites he usually dated. He hadn’t had sex for over a month, since he’d broken up with Lise, and celibacy did not suit him, he acknowledged wryly.
He finished his conversation with the hedge fund manager sitting on the other side of him and turned his head towards Ava, hiding a smile when she quickly jerked her gaze away. He had been aware of the numerous glances she had darted at him while he had been chatting to the other guests around the table.
As he studied the curve of her cheek and the elegant line of her neck, he realised that he had been wrong to dismiss her as merely attractive. She was beautiful, but her beauty was understated and entirely natural. Giannis suspected that she used minimal make-up to enhance her English rose complexion, and her round-as-peaches breasts did not owe their firmness to implants or a cosmetic surgeon’s skill. In a room full of primped and pampered women adorned in extravagant jewellery, Ava Sheridan was like a rare and precious pearl found in the deepest depths of the ocean.
She was also as stubbornly resistant as an oyster shell, he thought, frustrated by her refusal to turn her head in his direction even though she must be aware of his scrutiny.
‘Can I pour you some more wine?’ He took his cue when she placed her half-empty glass down on the table. Now she could not avoid looking at him and, as their eyes met, Giannis felt the sizzle, the intangible spark of sexual attraction shoot between them.
‘Just a little, thank you.’ Her voice was low and melodious and made him think of cool water. A tiny frown creased her brow as she watched him top up her glass before he replaced the wine bottle in the ice bucket. ‘Don’t you want any wine?’
‘No.’ He gave her another easy smile and did not explain that he never drank alcohol.
She darted him a glance from beneath the sweep of her lashes. ‘I have heard that you regularly make generous donations to charities... Giannis. And you are especially supportive of organisations which help families affected by alcohol misuse. Is there a particular reason for your interest?’
Giannis tensed and a suspicion slid into his mind as he remembered how she had contrived to sit next to him at dinner. The media were fascinated with him, and it would not be the first time that a member of the press had managed to inveigle their way onto the guest list of a social function in order to meet him. Mostly they wanted the latest gossip about his love life, but a few years ago a reporter had dug up the story from his past that he did not want to be reminded of.
Not that he could ever forget the mistake he’d made when he was nineteen, which had resulted in his father’s death. The memories of that night would haunt Giannis for ever, and guilt cast a long shadow over him.
His expression hardened. ‘Are you a journalist, Miss Sheridan?’
Her eyebrows rose. Either she was an accomplished actress or her surprise was genuine. ‘No. Why do you think I might be?’
‘You changed the seating arrangement so that we could sit together. I watched you switch the place cards.’
Colour blazed on her cheeks and if Giannis had been a different man he might have felt some sympathy for her obvious embarrassment. But he was who he was, and he felt nothing.
‘I...yes, I admit I did swap the name cards,’ she muttered. ‘But I still don’t understand why you think I am a journalist.’
‘I have had experience of reporters, especially those working for the gutter press, using underhand methods to try to gain an interview with me.’
‘I promise you I’m not a journalist.’
‘Then why did you ensure that we would sit together?’
She bit her lip again and Giannis was irritated with himself for staring at her mouth. ‘I... I was hoping to have a chance to talk to you.’
Her pretty face was flushed rose-pink but her intelligent grey eyes were honest—Giannis did not know why he was so convinced of that. The faint desperation in her unguarded expression sparked his curiosity.
‘So, talk,’ he said curtly.
* * *
‘Not here.’ Ava tore her gaze from Giannis Gekas and took a deep breath, hoping to steady the frantic thud of her pulse. She had recognised him instantly when he had walked over to the dining table where Becky, bless her, had allocated her a place. But her seat had been on the other side of the table—too far away from Giannis to be able to have a private conversation with him.
She had taken a gamble that no one would notice her swapping the name cards around. But she had to talk to Giannis about her brother. She’d forked out a fortune for a ticket to the charity dinner and bought an expensive evening dress that she’d probably never have the chance to wear again. The only way she could keep Sam from being sent to a young offender institution was if she could persuade Giannis Gekas to drop the charges against him.
Ava took a sip of her wine. It was important that she kept a clear head and she hadn’t intended to drink any alcohol tonight, but she had not expected Giannis to be so devastatingly attractive. The photos she’d seen of him on the Internet when she’d researched the man dubbed Greece’s most eligible bachelor had not prepared her for the way her heart had crashed into her ribs when he’d smiled. Handsome did not come close to describing his lethal good looks. His face was a work of art—the sculpted cheekbones and chiselled jaw softened by a blatantly sensual mouth that frequently curved into a lazy smile.
Dark, almost black eyes gleamed beneath heavy brows, and he constantly shoved a hand through his thick, dark brown hair that fell forwards onto his brow. But even more enticing than his model-perfect features and tall, muscle-packed body was Giannis’s rampant sexuality. He oozed charisma and he promised danger and excitement—the very things that Ava avoided. She gave herself a mental shake. It did not matter that Giannis was a bronzed Greek god. All she cared about was saving her idiot of a kid brother from prison and the very real possibility that Sam would be drawn into a life of crime like their father.
Sam wasn’t bad; he had just gone off the rails because he lacked guidance. Ava knew that her mother had struggled to cope when Sam had hit puberty and he’d got in with a rough crowd of teenagers who hung around on the streets near the family home in East London. Even worse, Sam had become fascinated with their father and had even reverted to using the name McKay rather than their mother’s maiden name, Sheridan. Ava had been glad to move away from the East End and all its associations with her father, but she felt guilty that she had not been around to keep her brother out of trouble.
She took another sip of wine and her eyes were drawn once more to the man sitting next to her. Sam’s future rested in Giannis Gekas’s hands. A waiter appeared and removed her goat’s cheese salad starter that she had barely touched and replaced it with the Dover sole that she had chosen for the main course. Across the table, one of the other guests was trying to catch Giannis’s attention. The chance to have a meaningful conversation with him during dinner seemed hopeless.
‘I can’t talk to you here.’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and a quiver ran through her when his eyes focused on her mouth. She wondered why he suddenly seemed tense. ‘Would it be possible for me to speak to you in private after dinner?’
His dark eyes trapped her gaze but his expression was unreadable. Afraid that he was about to refuse her request, she acted instinctively and placed her hand over his where it rested on the tablecloth. ‘Please.’
The warmth of his olive-gold skin beneath her fingertips sent heat racing up her arm. She attempted to snatch her hand away but Giannis captured her fingers in his.
‘That depends on whether you are an entertaining dinner companion,’ he murmured. He smiled at her confused expression and stroked his thumb lightly over the pulse in her wrist that was going crazy. ‘Relax, glykiá mou. I think there is every possibility that we can have a private discussion later.’
‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded through her. But she could not relax as concern for her brother changed to a different kind of tension that had everything to do with the glitter in Giannis’s eyes. She couldn’t look away from his sensual mouth. His jaw was shadowed with black stubble and she wondered if it would feel abrasive against her cheek if he kissed her. If she kissed him back.
She took another sip of wine before she remembered that she hadn’t had any lunch. Alcohol had a more potent effect on an empty stomach, she reminded herself. Her appetite had disappeared but she forced herself to eat a couple of forkfuls of Dover sole.
‘So tell me, Ava—you have a beautiful name, by the way.’ Giannis’s husky accent felt like rough velvet stroking across Ava’s skin, and the way he said her name in his lazy, sexy drawl, elongating the vowels—Aaavaaa—sent a quiver of reaction through her. ‘You said that you are not a journalist, so what do you do for a living?’
Explaining about her work as a victim care officer might be awkward when Giannis was himself the victim of a crime which had been committed by her brother, Ava thought ruefully. Sam deeply regretted the extensive damage that he and his so-called ‘friends’ had caused to Giannis’s luxurious yacht. She needed to convince Giannis that her brother had made a mistake and deserved another chance.
She reached for her wine glass, but then changed her mind. Her head felt swimmy—although that might be because she had inhaled the spicy, explicitly sensual scent of Giannis’s aftershave.
‘Actually I’m between jobs at the moment.’ She was pleased that her voice was steady, unlike her see-sawing emotions. ‘I recently moved from Scotland back to London to be closer to my mother...and brother.’
Giannis ate some of his beef Wellington before he spoke. ‘I have travelled widely, but Scotland is one place that I have never visited. I’ve heard that it is very beautiful.’
Ava thought of the deprived areas of Glasgow where she had been involved with a victim support charity, first as a volunteer, and after graduating from university she had been offered a job with the victim support team. In the past few years some of the city’s grim, grey tower blocks had been knocked down and replaced with new houses, but high levels of unemployment still remained, as did the incidence of drug-taking, violence and crime.
She had felt that her job as a VCO—helping people who were victims or witnesses of crime—made amends in some small way for the terrible crimes her father had committed. But living far away in Scotland meant she had missed the signs that her brother had been drawn into the gang culture in East London. Her father’s old haunts.
‘Why do you care what I get up to?’ Sam had demanded when she had tried to talk to him about his behaviour. ‘You moved away and you don’t care about me.’ Ava felt a familiar stab of guilt that she hadn’t been around for Sam or her mother when they had both needed her.
She dragged her thoughts back to the present and realised that Giannis was waiting for her to reply. ‘The Highlands have some spectacular scenery,’ she told him. ‘If you are thinking of making a trip to Scotland I can recommend a few places for you to visit.’
‘It would be better if you came with me and gave me a guided tour of the places you think would interest me.’
Ava’s heart gave a jolt. Was he being serious? She stared into his dark-as-night eyes and saw amusement and something else that evoked a coiling sensation low in her belly. ‘We...we don’t know each other.’
‘Not yet, but the night is still young and full of endless possibilities,’ he murmured in his husky Mediterranean accent that made her toes curl. He gave a faint shrug of his shoulders, drawing her attention to his powerful physique beneath the elegant lines of his dinner jacket. ‘I have little leisure time and it makes sense when I visit somewhere new to take a companion who has local knowledge.’
Ava was saved from having to reply when one of the event organisers arrived at the table to hand out catalogues which listed the items that were being offered in the fundraising auction.
Giannis flicked through the pages of the catalogue. ‘Is there anything in the listings that you intend to bid for?’
‘Unfortunately I can’t afford the kind of money that a platinum watch or a luxury African safari holiday are likely to fetch in the auction,’ she said drily. ‘I imagine that art collectors will be keen to bid for the Mark Derring painting. His work is stunning, and art tends to be a good investment. There are also some interesting wines being auctioned. The Chateau Latour 1962 is bound to create a lot of interest.’
Giannis gave her a thoughtful look. ‘So, I have already discovered that you are an expert in art and wine. I confess that I am intrigued by you, Ava.’
She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘I’m not an expert in either subject, but I went to a finishing school in Switzerland where I learned how to talk confidently about art, recognise fine wines and understand the finer points of international etiquette.’
‘I did not realise that girls—I presume only girls—still went to finishing schools,’ Giannis said. ‘What made you decide to go to one?’
‘My father thought it would be a good experience for me.’ Ava felt a familiar tension in her shoulders as she thought of her father. The truth was that she tried not to think about Terry McKay. That part of her life when she had been Ava McKay was over. She had lost touch with the friends she had made at the Institut Maison Cécile in St Moritz when her father had been sent to prison. But the few months that she had spent at the exclusive finishing school, which had numbered two European princesses among its students, had given her the social skills and exquisite manners which allowed her to feel comfortable at high society events.
It was a pity that the finishing school had not given advice on how to behave when a gorgeous Greek god looked at her as if he was imagining her naked, Ava thought as her eyes locked with Giannis’s smouldering gaze. Panic and an inexplicable sense of excitement pumped through her veins. She was here at the charity dinner for her brother’s sake, she reminded herself. Giannis had said he would give her an opportunity to speak to him in private on the condition that she entertained him during dinner. She did not know if he had been serious, but she could not risk losing the chance to plead with him to show leniency to Sam.
‘It’s not fair,’ she murmured. She had to lean towards Giannis so that he could hear her above the hum of chatter in the banqueting hall, and the scent of him—spicy cologne mixed with an elusive scent of male pheromones—made her head spin. ‘I have told you things about me but you haven’t told me anything about yourself.’
‘That’s not true. I’ve told you that I have never visited Scotland. Although I have a feeling that I will take a trip there very soon,’ he drawled. His voice was indulgent like rich cream and the gleam in his eyes was wickedly suggestive.
A sensuous shiver ran down Ava’s spine. Common sense dictated that she should respond to Giannis’s outrageous flirting with cool amusement and make a witty remark to put him in his place and let him know she wasn’t interested in him. Except that he fascinated her, and she felt like a teenager on a first date rather than an experienced woman of twenty-seven.
She wasn’t all that experienced, a little voice in her head reminded her. At university she’d dated a few guys but the relationships had fizzled out fairly quickly. It had been her fault—she’d been wary of allowing anyone too close in case they discovered that she was leading a double life. Two years ago, she had met Craig at a party given by a work colleague. She had been attracted to his open and friendly nature and when they had become lovers she’d believed that they might have a future together. A year into their relationship, she had plucked up the courage and revealed her real identity. But Craig had reacted with horror to the news that she was the daughter of the infamous London gangland boss Terry McKay.
‘How could we have a family when there is a risk that our children might inherit your father’s criminal genes?’ Craig had said, with no trace of warmth in his voice and a look of distaste on his face that had filled Ava with shame.
‘Criminality isn’t an inherited condition,’ she had argued. But she continued to be haunted by Craig’s words. Perhaps there was a ‘criminal gene’ that could be passed down through generations and she would not be able to save Sam from a life of crime.
Ava forced her mind away from the past. She refused to believe that her kind, funny younger brother could become a violent criminal like their father. But the statistics of youths reoffending after being sent to prison were high. She needed to keep her nerve and seize the right moment to throw herself on Giannis’s mercy.
In normal circumstances Ava would have found the bidding process at the charity auction fascinating. The sums of money that some of the items fetched were staggering—and far beyond anything her finances could stretch to. Giannis offered the highest bid of a six-figure sum for a luxury spa break at an exclusive resort in the Maldives for two people. Ava wondered who he planned to take with him. No doubt he had several mistresses to choose from. But if he wanted more variety, she was sure that any one of the women in the banqueting hall who she had noticed sending him covetous glances would jump at the chance to spend four days—and nights—with a gorgeous, wealthy Greek god. Giannis was reputed to have become a billionaire from his successful luxury cruise line company, The Gekas Experience.
‘Congratulations on your winning bid for the spa break. I don’t blame you for deciding that a visit to the Maldives would be more enjoyable than a trip to Scotland,’ she said, unable to prevent the faint waspishness in her voice as she pictured him cavorting in a tropical paradise with a supermodel.
‘I bought the spa break for my mother and sister. My mother has often said that she would like to visit the Maldives, and at least my sister will be pleased.’ There was an odd nuance in Giannis’s tone. ‘Perhaps the trip will make my mother happy, but I doubt it,’ he said heavily.
Ava looked at him curiously, wanting to know more about his family. He had seemed tense when he spoke about his mother, but she was heartened to know that he had a sister and perhaps he would understand why she was so anxious to save her brother from a prison sentence.
The auction continued, but she was barely aware of what was going on around her and her senses were finely attuned to the man seated beside her. While she sipped her coffee and pretended to study the auction catalogue she tried not to stare at Giannis’s strong, tanned hands as he picked up his coffee cup. But her traitorous imagination visualised his hands sliding over her naked body, cupping her breasts in his palms as he bent his head to take each of her nipples into his mouth.
Sweet heaven! What had got into her? Hot-faced, she tensed when he moved his leg beneath the table and she felt his thigh brush against hers. He turned his head towards her, amusement gleaming in his eyes when he saw the hectic flush on her cheeks.
‘It is rather warm in here, isn’t it?’ he murmured.
She was on fire and desperate to escape to the restroom so that she could hold her wrists under the cold tap to try to bring her temperature down. Perhaps spending a few minutes away from Giannis would allow her to regain her composure. ‘Please excuse me,’ she muttered as she shoved her chair back and stood up abruptly.
‘Ow!’ For a few seconds she could not understand why scalding liquid was soaking into the front of her dress. The reason became clear when she saw a waiter hovering close by. He was holding a cafetière, and she guessed that he had leaned over her shoulder in order to refill her coffee cup at the same time that she had jumped up and knocked into him.
‘I am so sorry, madam.’
‘It’s all right—it was my fault,’ Ava choked, wanting to die of embarrassment. She hated being the centre of attention but everyone at the table, everyone in the banqueting room, it seemed, was looking at her. The head waiter hurried over and added his profuse apologies to those of the waiter who had spilled the coffee.
Giannis had risen from his seat. ‘Were you burned by the hot coffee?’ His deep voice was calm in the midst of the chaos.
‘I think I’m all right. My dress took the brunt of it.’ The coffee was cooling as it soaked through the material, but her dress was drenched and her attempts to blot the liquid with her napkin were ineffective. At least it was a black dress and the coffee stain might wash out, Ava thought. But she couldn’t spend the rest of the evening in her wet dress and she would have to go home without having had an opportunity to speak to Giannis about her brother.
The hotel manager had been called and he arrived at the table to add his apologies and reprimand the hapless waiter. ‘Really, it’s my fault,’ Ava tried to explain. She just wanted to get out of the banqueting hall, away from the curious stares of the other diners.
‘Come with me.’ Giannis slipped his hand under her elbow, and she was relieved when he escorted her out of the room. She knew she would have to call for a taxi to take her home, but while she was searching in her bag for her phone she barely noticed that they had stepped into a lift until the doors slid smoothly shut.
‘We will go to my hotel suite so that you can use the bathroom to freshen up, and meanwhile I’ll arrange for your dress to be laundered,’ Giannis answered her unspoken question.
Ava was about to say that there was no need for him to go to all that trouble. But it occurred to her that while she waited for her dress to be cleaned she would have the perfect opportunity to ask him to drop the charges against her brother. Was it sensible to go to a hotel room with a man she had never met before? questioned her common sense. This might be her only chance to save Sam, she reminded herself.
The doors opened and she discovered that the lift had brought them directly to Giannis’s suite. Ignoring the lurch of her heart, she followed him across the vast sitting room. ‘The bathroom is through there,’ he said, pointing towards a door. ‘There is a spare robe that you can use and I’ll call room service and have someone collect your dress. Would you like some more wine, or coffee?’
‘I think I’ve had enough coffee for one night.’ She gave him a rueful smile and her stomach muscles tightened when his eyes focused intently on her mouth.
She had definitely had enough wine, Ava thought as she shot into the opulent marble-tiled bathroom and locked the door, before releasing her breath on a shaky sigh. It must be her out-of-control imagination that made her think she had seen a predatory hunger in Giannis’s gaze. She wondered if he looked at every woman that way, and made them feel as though they were the most beautiful, the most desirable woman he had ever met. Probably. Giannis had a reputation as a playboy and he possessed an effortless charm that was irresistible.
But not to her. She was immune to Giannis’s magnetism, she assured herself. As she stripped off her coffee-soaked dress and reached for the folded towelling robe on a shelf, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the vanity unit. Her face was flushed and her eyes looked huge beneath her fringe. Usually she wore her hair up in a chignon but tonight she had left it loose and it reached halfway down her back. The layers that the hairdresser had cut into it made her hair look thick and lustrous, gleaming like spun gold beneath the bright bathroom light.
Ava stared at herself in the mirror, startled by her transformation from ordinary and unexciting to a sensual Siren. She had bought a seamless black bra to wear beneath her dress and her nipples were visible through the semi-transparent cups. The matching black thong that she had worn for practical reasons—so that she would not have a visible panty-line—was the most daring piece of lingerie she had ever owned.
She ran her hands over her smooth thighs above the lacy bands of her hold-up stockings and felt a delicious ache low in her pelvis. She felt sexy and seductive for the first time since Craig had dumped her as she pictured Giannis’s reaction if he saw her in her revealing underwear.
She shook her head. It must be the effects of the wine that had lowered her inhibitions and filled her mind with erotic images. Cursing her wayward thoughts, she slipped her arms into the robe and tied the belt firmly around her waist. Of course he was not going to see her underwear. She had come to his hotel suite for one purpose only—to ask him to give her brother another chance. Taking a deep breath, Ava opened the bathroom door and prepared to throw herself on Giannis Gekas’s mercy.
CHAPTER TWO (#ufec4b4d9-c540-52f1-a6b2-6cf5589fb480)
HE WAS SPRAWLED on a sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms lying along the back of the cushions. He had removed his jacket and tie and unfastened the top few shirt buttons, to reveal a vee of olive-gold skin and a sprinkling of black chest hairs. Giannis looked indolent and yet Ava sensed that beneath his civilised veneer he was a buccaneer who lived life by his rules and ruthlessly took what he wanted. Plenty of women would want to try to tame him but she was sure that none would succeed. Giannis Gekas answered to no one, and her nerve almost deserted her.
He stood up as she entered the sitting room and walked over to take her dress from her. ‘I rinsed out most of the coffee and wrung out as much water as I could,’ she explained as she handed him the soggy bundle of material.
‘I have been assured that your dress will be laundered and returned to you as quickly as possible,’ he told her as he strode across the room and opened the door of the suite to give the dress to a member of the hotel’s staff who was waiting in the corridor.
Giannis closed the door and came back to Ava. ‘I ordered you some English tea and some petits fours,’ he said, indicating the silver tea service on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Please, sit down.’
‘Thank you.’ She tore her eyes from him, her attention caught by a large canvas leaning against the wall. ‘That’s the Mark Derring painting from the auction.’
‘I followed your advice and bid for it. You were sitting next to me,’ he reminded her in a sardonic voice that made her think he was remembering how she had swapped the place name cards. ‘Didn’t you realise that I had offered the highest bid for the painting?’
Heat spread across her face. She could hardly admit that she had been so busy trying to hide her fierce awareness of him that she hadn’t taken much notice of the auction. Giannis gave one of his lazy smiles, as if he knew how fast her heart was beating, and Ava forgot to breathe as she was trapped by the gleam in his eyes. She did not remember when he had moved closer to her, but she was conscious of how much taller than her he was when she had to tilt her head to look at his face.
He was utterly gorgeous, but it was not just his impossibly handsome features that made her feel weak and oddly vulnerable. Self-assurance shimmered from him and, combined with his simmering sensuality, it was a potent mix that made her head spin.
‘Congratulations on winning the painting in the auction,’ she murmured, desperate to say something and shatter the spell that his fathomless dark eyes and his far too sexy smile had cast on her. She was stupidly flattered that he had taken her advice about the artwork. Her self-confidence had been knocked by Craig’s attitude when she’d admitted that she was the daughter of one of the UK’s most notorious criminals. Thinking of her father reminded her of her brother, and she sank down onto the sofa while she mentally prepared what she was going to say to Giannis. It did not help her thought process when he sat down next to her.
‘Help yourself to a petit four,’ he said, offering her the plate of irresistible sweet delicacies.
‘I shouldn’t,’ Ava murmured ruefully as she reached for a chocolate truffle. She bit into it and gave a blissful sigh when it melted, creamy and delicious, on her tongue. ‘Chocolate is my weakness, unfortunately.’
He shrugged. ‘Are you one of those women who starve themselves because the fashion industry dictates that the feminine figure should be stick-thin?’
‘I think it’s patently obvious that I don’t starve myself,’ she said drily. The belt of the towelling robe had worked loose and she flushed when she glanced down and saw that the front was gaping open, revealing the upper slopes of her breasts above her bra. She quickly pulled the lapels of the robe together.
‘I am glad to hear it. Women should have curves.’ Giannis looked deeply into her eyes and the heat in his gaze caused her heart to skip a beat. ‘Before the regrettable incident with the coffee you looked stunning in your dress, and you have an exquisite figure, Ava,’ he said softly. ‘I am flattered that you wanted to sit next to me at dinner.’
Clearly, Giannis believed she had swapped the name cards because she was interested in him, but her motive had been completely different. Ava swallowed. ‘I need to...’ She did not finish her sentence and her breath caught in her throat when he lifted his hand and lightly brushed his thumb pad across the corner of her mouth.
‘You had chocolate on your lips,’ he murmured, showing her the smear of chocolate on his thumb that he had removed from her mouth. Her eyes widened when he put his thumb into his own mouth.
How could such an innocuous gesture seem so erotic? She was mesmerised as she watched his tongue flick out to lick his thumb clean. Unconsciously her own tongue darted out to moisten her lips and the feral growl that Giannis gave caused her stomach muscles to clench.
Remember why you are here, Ava ordered herself. But it was impossible to think about her brother when Giannis shifted along the sofa so that he was much too close. Her heart was thumping so hard in her chest that she was surprised it wasn’t audible. It felt unreal to be in a luxurious hotel room with a devastatingly gorgeous man who was looking at her as if she was his ultimate fantasy. Somewhere in a distant recess of her brain she knew she should deliver her rehearsed speech, but her sense of unreality deepened when Giannis lifted his hand and stroked her cheek before he captured her chin between his fingers.
‘What are you doing?’ she gasped. It was imperative that she should seize her chance to talk to him about Sam.
‘I would like to kiss you, beautiful Ava.’ His voice was soft like velvet caressing her senses. ‘And I think that perhaps you would like me to kiss you? Am I right? Do you want me to do this...?’ He brushed his mouth over hers, tantalising her with a promise of sweeter delight to follow.
On one level Ava was appalled that she was allowing a stranger to kiss her, but she did not pull away when Giannis slid his hand beneath her hair to cup her nape and drew her towards him.
Sexual chemistry had fizzed between them from the moment they had set eyes on one another, she acknowledged. Neither of them had eaten much at dinner because they had been sending each other loaded glances. She could not fight her body’s instinctive response to Giannis and with a helpless sigh she parted her lips. A tremor ran through her when he kissed her again and reality disappeared.
It was as though she had been flung to the far reaches of the universe where nothing existed but Giannis’s lips moving over hers, tasting her, enticing her. His warm breath filled her mouth and she felt the intoxicating heat of his body through his white shirt when she placed her hands flat on his chest.
In a minute she would end this madness and push him away, she assured herself. She had been curious to know what it would be like to be kissed by an expert. And Giannis was certainly an expert. Ava did not have much experience of men but she recognised his mastery in the bone-shaking sensuality of his caresses.
He lifted his mouth from hers and trailed his lips over her cheek and up to her ear, exploring its delicate shape with his tongue before he gently nipped her earlobe with his teeth. A quiver ran through her and she arched her neck as he kissed his way down her throat and nuzzled the dip where her collarbone joined. Her skin felt scorched by the heat of his mouth. She wanted more—she wanted to feel his lips everywhere, tasting her and tantalising her with sensual promise.
At last he lifted his head. He was breathing hard. Ava stared at him with wide, unfocused eyes. She had never felt so aroused before, except in her dreams. Perhaps this was a dream, and if so she did not want to wake up.
‘Your skin is marked where that idiot waiter spilled boiling-hot coffee down you,’ Giannis murmured. She followed his gaze and saw that the front of her robe had fallen open again. There was a patch of pink skin on the upper slope of one breast.
‘It’s nothing.’ She tried to close the robe but he brushed her hand away and deftly untied the belt before he stood up and drew her to her feet. It was as if she were trapped in a strange dreamlike state where she could not speak, and she did not protest when he pushed the robe off her shoulders and it fell to the floor.
Giannis rocked back on his heels and subjected her to a slow, intense scrutiny, starting with her stiletto-heeled shoes and moving up her stockings-clad legs and the expanse of creamy skin above her lacy stocking tops. Ava could not move, could hardly breathe as his gaze lingered on her black silk thong before he finally raised his eyes to her breasts with their pointed nipples jutting provocatively beneath the semi-transparent bra cups.
‘Eísaiómorfi,’ he said hoarsely.
Even if she hadn’t understood the Greek words—which translated to English meant you are beautiful—there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze, the hunger that made his eyes glitter like polished jet. Ava knew she wasn’t really beautiful. Passably attractive was a more realistic description. But Giannis had sounded as if he genuinely thought she was beautiful. The desire blazing in his eyes restored some of her pride that had been decimated by Craig’s rejection.
Soon she would end this madness, she assured herself again. But for a few moments she wanted to relish the sense of feminine power that swept through her when Giannis reached for her and she saw that his hand was shaking. Europe’s most sought-after playboy was shaking with desire for her. It was a heady feeling. A wildness came over her, a longing to just once throw off the restraints she had imposed on herself since she was seventeen and had discovered the truth about Terry McKay.
When she was younger she had never told anyone that her father was a criminal, but the strain of keeping her shameful secret had meant that she was always on her guard. Even with Craig, she had never been able to completely relax and enjoy sex. She’d assumed she had a low sex drive, but now the fire in her blood and the thunderous drumbeat of desire in her veins revealed a passionate, sensual woman who ached for fulfilment.
Giannis pulled her into his arms and crushed her against his broad chest, making her aware of how strong he was, how muscular and male compared to her soft female body. But she was strong too, she realised, feeling him shudder when she arched into him so that the hard points of her nipples pressed against his chest. He claimed her mouth, his lips urgent, demanding her response, and with a low moan she melted into his heat and fire. She kissed him back with a fervency that drew a harsh groan from his throat when at last he lifted his head and stared into her eyes.
‘I want you,’ he said in a rough voice that made her tremble deep inside. ‘You drive me insane, lovely Ava. I want to see you naked in my bed. I want to touch your body and discover all your secrets, and then I want to...’ He lowered his head and whispered in her ear in explicit detail all that he wanted to do to her.
Ava’s stomach dipped. Somewhere back in the real world the voice of her common sense urged her to stop, now, before she did something she might regret later. But another voice insisted that if she let this moment, this man slip away she would regret it for ever. She did not understand what had happened to sensible Ava Sheridan, but shockingly she did not care. Only one thing was in her mind, in her blood. Desire, desire—it pulsed through her veins and made her forget everything but the exquisite sensations Giannis was creating when he cupped one of her breasts in his hand and stroked her nipple through the gossamer-fine bra cup.
She gave a low moan as he slipped his hand inside her bra and played with her nipple, rolling the hard peak between his fingers, causing exquisite sensation to shoot down to that other pleasure point between her legs. ‘Oh.’ She would die if he did not touch her there where she ached to feel his hands.
His soft laughter made her blush scarlet when she realised that she had spoken the words out loud. ‘Come with me.’ Giannis caught hold of her hand and something—disappointment? Frustration?—tautened his features when she hesitated. ‘What is it?’
She wanted to tell him that she did not have one-night stands and she had never, ever had sex with a stranger. She wasn’t impetuous or daring. She was old before her time, Ava thought bleakly. Just for once she wanted to be the sexually confident woman that Giannis clearly believed she was.
He smiled, his eyes lit with a sensual warmth that made her insides melt. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said softly, lifting his hand to brush her hair back from her face. The oddly tender gesture dispelled her doubts and the hunger in his gaze caused a sensuous heat to pool between her thighs.
‘Nothing is wrong,’ she assured him in a breathy voice she did not recognise as her own. She slid her hands over his shirt and undid the rest of the buttons before she pushed the material aside and skimmed her palms over his bare chest. His skin felt like silk overlaid with wiry black hairs that arrowed down to the waistband of his trousers. She heard him draw a quick breath when she stroked her fingertips along his zip.
‘You’re sure?’
She didn’t want to step out of the fantasy and question what she was doing. The new, bold Ava tilted her head to one side and sent him a lingering look from beneath the sweep of her lashes. ‘What are you waiting for?’ she murmured.
He laughed—a low, husky sound that caused the tiny hairs on her skin to stand on end. Every cell of her body was acutely aware of him and the promise in his glittering dark eyes sent a shiver of excitement through her.
Without saying another word, he led her by the hand into the bedroom. Ava was vaguely aware of the sophisticated décor and the lamps dimmed so that they emitted a soft golden glow. In the centre of the room was an enormous bed. Someone—presumably the chambermaid—had earlier turned back the bedspread and Ava’s heart skipped a beat when she saw black silk sheets.
The four-poster bed had been designed for seduction, for passion, and it occurred to her that Giannis would surely not have intended to spend the night alone. Perhaps he regularly picked up women for sex. The slightly unsettling thought quickly faded from her mind and anticipation prickled across her skin when he shrugged off his shirt and deftly removed his shoes and socks before he unzipped his trousers and stepped out of them.
He was magnificent—lean-hipped and with a powerfully muscular chest and impressive six-pack. In the lamplight his skin gleamed like polished bronze, his chest and thighs overlaid with black hairs. Her gaze dropped lower to his tight black boxer shorts which could not conceal his arousal, and the growl he gave as she stared at him evoked a primitive need to feel him inside her.
‘Take off your bra,’ he ordered.
Her stomach flipped. She would have preferred him to undress her, and on some level her brain recognised that he was giving her the opportunity to change her mind. He wasn’t going to force her to do anything she did not want to do. She roamed her eyes over his gorgeous body and desire rolled through her. Slowly she reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, letting the cups fall away from her breasts.
Giannis swallowed audibly. ‘Beautiful.’ His voice was oddly harsh, as if he was struggling to keep himself under control. He shook his head when she put her hands on the lacy tops of her hold-up stockings and prepared to roll them down her legs. ‘Leave them on,’ he growled. ‘And your shoes.’ He closed the gap between them in one stride and pulled her into his arms so that her bare breasts pressed against his naked chest. Ava felt a shudder run through him. ‘Se thélo,’ he muttered.
She knew the Greek words meant I want you and she was left in no doubt when he circled his hips against hers and she felt the solid ridge of his arousal straining beneath his boxers. Driven beyond reason by a hunger she had never felt before, had never believed she was capable of feeling, she slipped her hand into the waistband of his boxers and curled her hand around him.
‘Witch.’ He pulled off his boxer shorts and kicked them away. Ava felt a momentary doubt when she saw how hugely aroused he was. But then he scooped her up and laid her down on the bed, and the feel of his hard, male, totally naked body pressing down on her blew away the last of her inhibitions. She trapped his face between her hands and tugged his mouth down to hers, arching against him when he claimed her lips in a devastating kiss.
It was wild and hot, passion swiftly spiralling out of control and shooting her beyond the stratosphere to a place she had never been before, where there was only the sensation of his warm skin pressed against hers and his seeking hands exploring her body and finding her pleasure spots with unerring precision.
‘Oh.’ She gave a thin cry when Giannis bent his head to her breast and flicked his tongue back and forth across its distended peak.
‘Do you like that?’ His voice was indulgent as if he knew how much she liked what he was doing to her, but Ava was too spellbound by him to worry about his arrogance. She sighed with pleasure when he drew her nipple into his mouth and sucked hard so that she almost climaxed right then. He transferred his attention to her other breast and she dug her fingers into his buttocks, feeling the awesome length of his erection pushing between her legs. There was no thought in her head to deny him, when to do so would deny her the orgasm that she could already sense building deep in her pelvis.
Somehow he untangled their limbs and shifted across the mattress. Frantically she grabbed hold of him and he laughed softly. Ignoring her hands tugging at him, he reached for his wallet on the bedside table and took out a condom. ‘You are eager, aren’t you?’ he murmured. ‘Here—’ he put the condom into her hand ‘—you put it on for me.’
Ava fumbled with the foil packet, not wanting to admit that she had never opened a condom before. Craig had always prepared himself for sex, and when they had made love it had been over quickly, leaving her dissatisfied and convinced that the problem lay with her.
Finally she managed to tear the foil with her fingernail and then unrolled the condom down his length.
‘Theos, you’re going to kill me.’ His chest heaved when she finally completed her task. He pushed aside her flimsy black silk thong and stroked his fingers over her silken flesh, parting her so that he could slide one finger inside her.
It felt amazing but it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. Ava could hear her panting breaths as she lifted her hips towards his hand, needing more, needing him... ‘Please...’
‘I know,’ he growled. She heard a ripping sound as he tore her thong, and then he simply took her with a hard, deep thrust that expelled the breath from her lungs in a shocked gasp.
He stilled and stared down at her, his shoulder muscles bunching as he supported himself on his hands. The lamplight cast shadows over his face, emphasising the angles and planes of his chiselled features. A beautiful stranger who had claimed her body. ‘Did I hurt you?’ The concern in his voice touched her heart.
‘No...’ She clutched his shoulders as she felt him start to withdraw. The shock of his penetration was receding and her internal muscles stretched so that she could take him deeper inside her, filling her, fulfilling her most secret fantasies when he began to move.
He must have sensed that he needed to slow the pace and at first he was almost gentle as he circled his hips against hers and kissed her breasts and throat, making his way up to her mouth to push his tongue between her lips while he drove deep inside her.
She arched her hips to meet each stroke, unaware of the frantic cries she made as he established a powerful rhythm. He thrust deeper, harder, taking her higher until she clawed her nails down his back, desperate to reach a place that she had never managed to reach before, except when she pleasured herself.
He laughed softly. ‘Relax, and it’ll happen.’
‘It won’t. I can’t...’ Ava gave a sob of frustration. There must be something wrong with her that made it impossible for her to reach an orgasm during sex.
She felt Giannis slip his hand between their joined bodies and then he did something magical with his fingers, while he continued his rhythmic thrusts, faster, faster...
It felt so good. The way he expertly moved his hand, as if he knew exactly how to give her the utmost pleasure. It felt unbelievably good and the pressure inside her was building, building to a crescendo. Suddenly she was there, suspended for timeless seconds on the edge of ecstasy before the wave crashed over her and swept her up in a maelstrom of intense pleasure that went on and on, pulsing, pounding through her, tearing a low cry from her throat.
Even when the ripples of her orgasm started to fade, he continued to move inside her with an urgency that took her breath away. He gripped her hips and reared over her, his head thrown back so that the cords on his neck stood out. Incredibly, Ava climaxed for a second time, swift and sharp, as Giannis gave a final thrust and emitted a savage groan as he pressed his face into her neck while great shudders racked his body.
In the afterglow, a sense of peace enfolded her and she lay quite still, not wanting him to move away, not ready to face the reality of what had just happened. Gradually the thunderous beat of his heart slowed. She loved the feel of his big, strong body lying lax on top of her and of his arms around her, holding her close. Her limbs felt heavy and the lingering ripples of her orgasm triggered delicious tingles deep in her pelvis.
So that was what poets wrote sonnets about, she thought, smiling to herself. There wasn’t something wrong with her, as Craig had suggested. Sex with Giannis had been mind-blowing and had proved that her body was capable of experiencing the most intense passion. From Giannis’s reaction he had enjoyed having sex with her. She wasn’t frigid. She was a responsive, sexually confident woman.
He lifted his head at last and looked down at her, his dark eyes unfathomable, making Ava realise once again that even though they had just shared the most intimate act that two people could experience, she did not know him. Oh, she’d gleaned a few facts about him on the Internet. Mainly about his business success or which model or actress he’d dated, although there was actually very little information about him. She knew nothing about the real Giannis Gekas—his family, his interests, even mundane things such as what kind of food he liked. There was an endless list of unknowns—all the tiny snippets of information that people at the beginning of a conventional relationship would find out about each other.
All she knew was that they had been drawn together by a combustible sexual chemistry, and when she became aware of him hardening once more while he was still buried deep inside her, nothing else mattered.
‘You are irresistible, omorfiá mou,’ he murmured. ‘I want you again.’
Excitement coiled through her and she wrapped her legs around his back to draw him deeper inside her. He groaned. ‘You would tempt a saint. But first I need to change the condom. Don’t go away.’ He dropped a brief but utterly sensual kiss on her mouth—a promise of further delights to follow—before he lifted himself off her and strode into the bathroom.
Ava watched him, her gaze clinging to his broad shoulders before sliding lower to the taut curves of his buttocks, and molten heat pooled between her thighs. Everything about tonight felt unreal, as if she was in the middle of an erotic dream that she did not want to end.
CHAPTER THREE (#ufec4b4d9-c540-52f1-a6b2-6cf5589fb480)
GIANNIS STEPPED OUT of the shower cubicle and blotted the moisture from his skin before he knotted a towel around his hips and walked into the bedroom. He glanced at the bed and saw that Ava was still fast asleep. Her honey-blonde hair spilled across the black silk pillows and her hand was tucked under her cheek. She looked young and unexpectedly innocent but looks were deceptive and there had been no hint of the ingénue about her last night.
The memory of her standing in front of him in stiletto heels, sheer black stockings and a minuscule pair of knickers had a predictable effect on his body, and he was tempted to whip off his towel and wake her for morning sex. But there wasn’t time, and he felt no more than a fleeting regret as he turned away from the bed, striding over to the wardrobe to select a shirt to wear with his suit. While he dressed, he thought about his schedule for the day.
He had meetings in Paris in the afternoon and a social function to attend in the evening. But first he planned to drive to his house in Hertfordshire that he had recently purchased, to inspect the renovations that had been completed and pay the workmen a bonus. It would be useful to have a permanent base in the UK, but another reason he had bought Milton Grange was because the grounds included a particularly fine garden. Giannis hoped that his mother might like to visit the house in the summer, and perhaps tending to the roses would lift her spirits, which had been low lately. Although there was nothing new about that, he thought heavily.
He had spent most of his adult life trying to make his mother happy. His conscience insisted that caring for her was a small penance and could never atone for his terrible lapse of judgement that had resulted in the death of his father. He despised himself even more because he found his mother difficult. Even his sister had suggested that their mitera’srelentless misery was intended to make him feel guilty.
Giannis sighed as his thoughts switched from his mother to another thorn in his side. Ever since Stefanos Markou had announced that he intended to sell Markou Shipping and retire from business, Giannis had tried to persuade the old man to sell his ships to him. The Markou fleet of six small cargo ships would be an ideal addition to The Gekas Experience.
TGE already operated ten vessels offering luxurious cruises around the Mediterranean and the Caribbean. River cruising was becoming increasingly popular and Giannis wanted to expand the company and make TGE the world leader in this emerging tourist market. The Markou fleet of ships would need major refurbishments to turn them into high-end luxury river cruisers, but it was cheaper to upgrade existing ships than to commission a new fleet of vessels.
To Giannis’s intense frustration, Stefanos had rejected his very generous financial offer. That was to say—Stefanos had not actually turned him down but he kept adding new conditions before he would sell. Giannis had already agreed to employ the entire Markou Shipping workforce and retrain the staff so that they could work on his cruise ships. Far more problematic was Stefanos’s insistence that he wanted to sell his company to a married man.
‘Markou Shipping’s ethos is family first,’ Stefanos had told Giannis. ‘Many of the current staff are second or even third generation employees and they share the company’s values of loyalty and propriety. How do you think they would feel if I sold the company to you—a notorious playboy who regards women only as pleasurable diversions? But if you were to choose a wife and settle down it would show that you believe in the high ideals which my great-grandfather, who started Markou Shipping one hundred years ago, held dear.’
Giannis had no desire to marry, but a rival potential buyer had shown interest in purchasing the Markou fleet of vessels. Norwegian businessman Anders Tromska was married and the father of two children. Stefanos approved of Tromska for being a dedicated family man who had never been involved in any kind of scandal or photographed by the paparazzi with a different blonde on his arm every week.
Giannis was prepared to increase his financial offer for the fleet of ships. But for once he had discovered that money could not solve a problem. It seemed that the only way he might persuade Stefanos to sell to him was if he magically conjured himself a wife.
He slipped his arms into his jacket and pushed the Markou problem to the back of his mind for now, turning his thoughts instead to a happier situation. His beloved Nerissa—a classic motor yacht which had been his father’s first boat—had been repaired and restored after it had been vandalised.
Giannis had kept the boat moored at St Katharine Dock and he stayed on it whenever he visited London. He had been furious when he’d heard that a gang of youths had boarded the boat one night and held a party. A fire had somehow started in the main cabin and quickly ripped through the boat. It turned out that a cleaner who worked for the valeting company employed to maintain the boat had stolen the keys and taken his thuggish friends aboard Nerissa. The gang had escaped before the police arrived, apart from the cleaner, who had been arrested and charged with criminal damage.
The manager of the boat valeting company had been deeply apologetic. ‘The youth who took the keys to your boat has a police record for various petty crimes. His social worker persuaded me to give him a job. To be honest he seemed like a nice lad, and his sister who accompanied him to his interview was anxious for me to give him a chance. But they say that bad blood will out in the end,’ the manager had said sagely.
In Giannis’s opinion, the cleaner who he held responsible for wrecking his boat deserved to be locked up in jail and the keys thrown away. Nerissa was special to him and he had wonderful memories of idyllic days spent on her with his father. Now that the boat had been repaired he had arranged for her to be taken back to Greece, to his home on the island of Spetses.
The sound of movement from the bed compelled Giannis to turn his head and look across the room. Ava rolled onto her back and the sheet slipped down to reveal one perfect round breast, creamy pale against the black silk sheet and adorned with a dusky pink nipple that Giannis had delighted in tormenting with his mouth the previous night.
One night with the golden-haired temptress was not enough to sate his desire for her, he acknowledged. His arousal was uncomfortably hard beneath his close-fitting trousers. He would take her phone number and call her on his next trip to London, he decided. Maybe he would instruct his PA to clear his diary for a few days so that he could fly up to Scotland with Ava. His imagination ran riot as he pictured them staying at a castle and having hot sex in front of a blazing log fire. He had heard that it often rained in the Highlands, and they would have to pass the time somehow.
But that was for the future. Right now he had a busy day ahead of him. He glanced at his watch and strode over to the bed to wake Sleeping Beauty. He had asked for his car to be brought to the front of the hotel ready for him to drive to Hertfordshire and he was keen to be on his way. But his conscience—which was frankly underused—insisted on this occasion that he could not simply disappear and leave Ava asleep.
‘Good morning.’ He leaned over the bed and watched her long eyelashes flutter and settle back on her cheeks. ‘It’s time to get up, angel-face.’ Impatience edged into his voice, and he put his hand on her shoulder to give her a gentle shake.
Long hazel-coloured lashes swept upwards. Her grey eyes were dazed with sleep before she blinked and focused on his face.
‘Oh. My. God.’ Her appalled expression was almost comical. ‘I thought you were a dream.’
Giannis grinned. ‘I aim to please. You were pretty amazing last night too.’ His gaze lingered on her bare breast and she made a choked sound as she dragged the sheet up to her chin. ‘But it is now morning,’ he told her. ‘Nine o’clock, to be precise. And incredibly tempting though you are, I have a busy schedule and you need to get dressed.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Ava said again. She sat up and pushed her tangled blonde hair out of her eyes. The faint quiver of her lower lip made her seem oddly vulnerable. Giannis was surprised by the inexplicable urge that came over him to hold her in his arms and comfort her. But why did he think she needed to be comforted when he was certain she had enjoyed the passionate night they had spent together as much as he had? Just as pertinently, what qualified him to offer comfort to anyone? He destroyed things, and Ava, with her curiously innocent air, would do well to stay away from him, he reminded himself.
He was used to being instantly obeyed and he frowned when, instead of jumping out of bed, Ava slumped back against the pillows and covered her face with her hands. Giannis struggled to hide his irritation. ‘You were not so shy last night,’ he drawled.
‘Last night was a mistake.’ Her voice was muffled behind her hands. ‘I must have had too much to drink.’
His jaw hardened. ‘You drank a small glass of wine during dinner. Don’t try to make out that you were unaware of what you were doing when you undressed in front of me, or suggest that I took advantage of you. When I asked if you were sure you wanted to have sex, you more or less begged me to take you.’
She jerked upright and dropped her hands away from her face, shaking her head so that her hair swirled around her shoulders like a curtain of gold silk. ‘I did not beg.’ There was outrage in her voice but she continued in a low tone, ‘I know what I did. I was responsible for my behaviour and I’m not blaming you. But I shouldn’t have slept with you. What I mean is that I should have spoken to you...asked you... Oh, this is so awkward.’ Her eyes widened even more. ‘Did you say that it’s nine o’clock? Oh, my God.’
She scrambled off the bed and tugged the sheet around her, but not before Giannis had glimpsed her naked body. At some point during the night he had removed her stockings using his teeth to tug them down her legs. He watched Ava struggle to put her bra on while she clutched the sheet to her like a security blanket. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little late for modesty?’ he said sardonically.
She picked up her torn thong from the floor and looked as though she was about to burst into tears. ‘I have to go,’ she said wildly. ‘Sam will be going mad wondering where I am. I was supposed to have an important conversation with you last night.’
‘About what?’
She bit her lip. ‘It’s a delicate matter.’
Giannis counted to ten beneath his breath. ‘I’m in a hurry, so whatever it is you want to say—for God’s sake get on with it.’
This couldn’t be happening, Ava thought frantically. In a minute she would wake up from a nightmare. But in the cold light of morning she could not fool herself that having wild sex with Giannis last night had been a dream. She felt a sensation like wet cement congealing in the pit of her stomach with the knowledge that, as a result of her irresponsible behaviour, she had lost her chance to plead with Giannis to drop the charges against her brother. She felt sick with shame and guilt.
The sound of a familiar ringtone cut through the tense atmosphere and she scrabbled in her handbag to retrieve her phone. Her heart lurched when she saw that it was her brother calling.
‘Sam, I’ve been...unavoidably delayed.’ She dared not look at Giannis. ‘You will have to ring for a taxi to take you to the courthouse, and I’ll meet you there. You’ll have to hurry—’ she felt her anxiety rise ‘—your case is due to be heard by the magistrate in half an hour, and you mustn’t be late.’
‘The magistrate is ill,’ Sam said when Ava paused for breath. ‘I’ve just heard that the court cases today have been postponed.’
Ava heard relief in her brother’s voice and she felt a rush of emotion. Sam hadn’t said much in the weeks leading up to his court hearing, but she knew he was scared at the prospect of being sent to prison. ‘Thank goodness.’ She breathed out a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t mean it’s good that the magistrate is ill, of course, but it gives us a bit more time.’
‘Time to do what?’ her brother said flatly. ‘My case has only been delayed for a few days and it’s still likely that I’ll be sent to a YOI.’
Ava knew that young offender institutions tended to be grim places and she understood why Sam was scared. He might be eighteen but he would always be her kid brother. ‘Not necessarily.’ She tried to sound optimistic. ‘I can’t talk now. I’ll see you at home later.’
She replaced her phone in her bag, and her eyes widened as she watched Giannis open his briefcase and throw some documents on top of a pile of bank notes. He closed the briefcase but Ava had a sudden flashback to when she had been a little girl, and had seen her father counting piles of bank notes on the kitchen table.
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