Isla felt humiliated by his rejection, which brought back painful memories of when she’d been a teenager and had introduced herself to her father. With hindsight, perhaps she had been naïve to hope that David Stanford would be delighted to meet the daughter he’d abandoned when she was a few months old. But his insistence that there was no place for her in his life had been a brutal end to her hopes of having a relationship with her father. Isla had vowed then never to allow herself to be hurt by any man ever again.
She was jolted back to the present when she felt the pressure of Andreas’s hard thigh against hers. She hadn’t been aware that he’d moved, but now she found herself trapped against the balustrade. Her breath hitched in her throat when he ran his finger lightly down her hot cheek. She realised that she had been staring at his sensual mouth while she’d relived the kiss they had shared in London. The gleam in his eyes told her he had read her thoughts.
‘Tell me about your romance with my father,’ he demanded in a cynical voice. ‘It seems very sudden. A few weeks ago you were employed as his housekeeper and you were quite happy to kiss me.’
‘The kiss was a mistake that I immediately regretted.’ She flushed at his look of arrogant disbelief. ‘It’s true. You’re a playboy who uses women for your pleasure and discards them like trash when you are bored of them. You asked why I accepted your father’s proposal and I’ll tell you. Stelios is a gentleman. He is kind and sweet...’
Isla’s voice thickened with emotion. Stelios was the only person, apart from her mother, who had ever cared about her, but soon he would be gone from this world, just as her mother had gone, and she would be alone again. The one tiny comfort was that Stelios and Marion would finally be together.
‘You expect me to believe that my father’s wealth has no bearing on your decision to accept his marriage proposal?’ Andreas gritted.
‘I don’t care what you believe. The truth is that I love your father.’
Andreas jerked as if she’d slapped him. His blue eyes burned into Isla like lasers, seeking out every last secret in her soul as his dark head came closer, blotting out the light from the room behind him so that there was just the darkness of the night and the harsh sound of his breaths echoing the erratic beat of her heart.
‘Love?’ he mocked. He captured her wrist between his strong fingers. ‘I could kiss you right now and you wouldn’t stop me, even though my father, who you profess to love, and the guests he invited to celebrate his engagement to you are only feet away from us.’
He dropped his gaze to the exposed upper slopes of her breasts that were rising and falling jerkily. Isla knew she should demand that he release her. But she couldn’t speak, could barely think. The spicy scent of his aftershave, mixed with something elusive and male, swamped her senses. His mouth, so close to hers but not close enough, was an unbearable torment. Heat swept through her and she felt an ache low in her pelvis. Her breasts felt heavy and she wanted... Oh, God, she wanted his mouth everywhere on her body.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Andreas swore. ‘This is crazy,’ he said hoarsely. He sounded as if he was waging an internal battle with himself and his voice jolted Isla to her senses.
She must be out of her mind to allow Andreas to undermine her defences. Even if she hadn’t agreed to the pretend engagement with Stelios, it would be foolish to succumb to her desire for Andreas, which made her feel hot and shivery at the same time.
No other man had ever excited her the way Andreas did, and she longed to press herself against his whipcord body and burn in his fire. But the kiss they had shared in London had clearly meant nothing to him, she reminded herself, still smarting from the memory of how he had walked away from her without a backward glance. She would not be Andreas’s plaything and she put her hand on his chest to push him away, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away from her.
Light spilled across the terrace from the drawing room as the door swung open and Stelios’s slightly stooped figure was silhouetted in the doorframe. ‘Isla?’
‘I’m here,’ she called out. She was still looking at Andreas and flushed at the contemptuous expression in his eyes when he stared back at her. Thank goodness she had come to her senses and stopped him from kissing her.
‘What are you doing out here in the dark?’ Stelios asked.
‘I was pointing out the lights of some of the notable buildings on the mainland to Isla,’ Andreas told his father, falling into step beside her when she walked back across the terrace. ‘I explained that the villa stands on a hill, hence the excellent view.’
Stelios was silent as his eyes moved between Isla and his son. ‘Yes, I see,’ he said softly at last. Isla prayed he didn’t. It was ridiculous to feel guilty, she told herself. Stelios had promised that he would explain to his family the reason for their fake engagement after Nefeli’s birthday party. But the affection she felt for the elderly man was genuine and she smiled at him as she slipped her arm through his.
‘I’m sorry you were looking for me. I should have told you that I was stepping outside for some fresh air.’
‘Your advice is needed,’ Stelios told her. ‘My friend Georgios is planning to visit the British Museum in London and he is especially interested in seeing the collection of ancient Greek antiquities housed there. I explained that you will be able to advise him which galleries and exhibits he would enjoy.’
‘Do you spend a lot of time in a museum, Isla?’ Andreas’s tone was sceptical.
‘I work as an assistant curator in the Greek and Roman department at the British Museum. The position is part-time, allowing me to fit the hours around my job as your father’s housekeeper in London, as well as studying for my PhD in classical civilisations.’
That wiped the smirk off Andreas’s face, Isla thought with satisfaction as she allowed Stelios to escort her back into the salon to join the other guests. Andreas had accused her of being a gold-digger and she’d enjoyed his obvious surprise that she had a career. But she was annoyed with herself for caring about his opinion of her. Common sense told her that he was the last man on the planet she should be drawn to.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had followed them into the salon and taken a drink from the butler. Andreas must have sensed her eyes on him and he turned his head to look directly at her, lifting his glass in mocking salute before he drained the amber liquid in one gulp. Isla watched the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
He was unashamedly masculine and she remembered how his body had felt as hard as steel when he’d trapped her up against the balustrade on the terrace with a muscular thigh. His olive-toned skin gleamed like bronze in the brightly lit room, and when he raked his hand carelessly through his dark hair her fingers itched to do the same.
Isla had never been this fascinated by a member of the opposite sex before. She had dated a few guys at university but was wary of being hurt and she’d never felt a desire for any of those relationships to progress as far as the bedroom, which was why she couldn’t understand her response to Andreas. She did not like him and certainly didn’t trust him, so why did he make her senses sing and bring her body to urgent life?
She had the unenviable title of the world’s oldest virgin, Isla thought wryly. Although she doubted that Andreas would believe it. His cynical expression when he’d seen the sparkling diamond ring on her finger indicated that he was convinced she had used her feminine wiles to captivate his billionaire father.
CHAPTER THREE
ANDREAS’S FEET POUNDED on the sand where the waves rippled against the shore. The sun was climbing high in the sky and the temperature was already soaring. Usually he went for a run at the break of dawn when the day was fresh and full of possibilities. But he had woken late after a restless night. Sleep had eluded him for hours as he’d struggled to understand his behaviour the previous evening when he
’d followed Isla out onto the terrace and been tempted to kiss her.
Theos, she had made him shake like a teenager at the mercy of his hormones. The chemistry between them had been almost tangible and if she hadn’t pushed him away he doubted he would have been able to resist her. But the realisation that he could have been caught in a compromising situation with his father’s fiancée had filled him with self-loathing. Even more incomprehensible was the fact that Isla had threatened his self-control with her mix of sensuality and innocence, which couldn’t be real, he told himself.
He was convinced that Isla was a gold-digger. Andreas had learned from bitter personal experience that some women had no scruples and would do anything to get their hands on the Karelis fortune. His mouth thinned as he remembered the lies that an ex-girlfriend, Sadie, had told the media about him after he’d seen through her attempt to deceive him. He should have realised sooner that Sadie had been more interested in his bank balance than him. He would bet his entire fortune that Isla was attracted to his elderly father’s wealth. Her air of vulnerability, which evoked a protective instinct in Andreas he hadn’t known he possessed, was no doubt part of her clever act, he thought grimly.
He ran faster, pushing himself until his lungs burned. But when he reached the end of the bay—after passing the old fisherman’s cottage that he’d turned into his private bolthole—and climbed the headland of volcanic rock, he barely noticed the stunning view of the crystalline turquoise sea. Instead he visualised Isla in her sexy red dress and remembered how soft her body had felt against his when she’d brushed past him on the terrace.
She had insisted that she loved Stelios. Of course she was bound to say that, Andreas brooded. But, for all his cynicism, he could not deny that there had been genuine emotion in her voice. Another thing which had thrown him was learning that she was highly educated and worked in a goddamn museum. If she had been an airhead it would be easier to dismiss her relationship with his father. Isla Stanford was an enigma. Andreas did not know what to make of her and it irritated the hell out of him.
On his way back to the villa his phone rang. ‘You are sure about this?’ he questioned the security officer who he’d asked to look into Isla’s background. ‘I see. That’s very interesting. Keep digging, Theo.’
His father and Isla were sitting at the breakfast table on the terrace which overlooked the infinity pool. Andreas hoped to slip unnoticed into the house, but Stelios waved to him and with a faint sigh he walked towards the table.
‘Kalimera, Papa, Isla,’ he murmured in greeting. The thought briefly crossed his mind that his father looked thinner than when he’d seen him in London a month ago. But his gaze was drawn to Isla and he forgot everything else.
In contrast to the sex-bomb image she’d projected last night, this morning she looked as pure as the driven snow in a pale lemon sundress with narrow straps that revealed her delicate shoulders. It was the first time Andreas had seen her hair loose and he wished he could run his fingers through the mass of honey-gold silk that tumbled in soft waves down her back.
Frustration darkened his mood. His fascination with Isla was something he’d never experienced before. Women came and went in his life without making any impact on him. He enjoyed their company as long as it was on his terms and he liked sex uncomplicated by commitment. Perhaps he wanted Isla so badly because she was off limits, he derided himself. For a man who had discovered while he was still a teenager that he could have any woman he wanted with the minimum of effort on his part, the fact that she was unobtainable made her exciting.
But maybe the reason why his heart jolted against his ribs when he met her cool grey gaze was simply that Isla was breathtakingly lovely. Tearing his gaze from her, Andreas glanced at the pile of newspapers on the table. Most of the European tabloids carried a photo on the front page of Stelios looking into the eyes of his new fiancée while he pressed his lips against the enormous diamond on her finger.
Andreas had woken to the storm on social media created by his father’s marriage plans. The announcement had resulted in a spike in Karelis Corp’s share price on the stock market. Investors liked strong company leaders, and presumably the news that Stelios was planning to marry a woman decades younger than him proved that the old man was still a force to be reckoned with, Andreas thought sardonically.
‘I am surprised that you decided to make a public statement about your engagement, Papa. You have previously been critical whenever my name has made the headlines.’
Stelios’s lips thinned. ‘A kiss-and-tell story by one of your disgruntled ex-lovers in a downmarket rag is not the same thing as an announcement about my future plans to the media.’
Andreas was genuinely curious. ‘You have always kept your personal life separate from business but I understand that you invited journalists into the boardroom of Karelis Corp to make your announcement. I am merely pointing out that it is not like you to court the paparazzi.’
Was it his imagination or did Stelios seem relieved when the conversation was curtailed by the arrival of the butler bearing a jug of coffee? Moments later, Dinos’s wife Toula, who had worked as the family’s cook at the villa for as long as Andreas could remember, bustled across the terrace carrying a plate with his favourite breakfast of spinach and feta wrapped in filo pastry. He was fond of the couple, who had taken care of him when he was a boy and had been sent to stay on Louloudi in the school holidays because his mother had preferred him to be out of the way.
‘I am happy that you no longer race your big motorbike,’ Toula told him after they had exchanged greetings. She glanced heavenwards. ‘Always I used to pray that you would be safe. When you had your accident I was so worried about you.’
‘As you can see, I am fully recovered,’ Andreas reassured her, automatically rubbing his hand over the long scar on his chest that was hidden beneath his running vest. The loss of his racing career was still painful and the scar was an ugly reminder of the accident during a race two years ago in which he’d suffered a ruptured aorta that had almost proved fatal.
‘We are all glad that Andreas has finally seen sense and given up fooling around on motorbikes and riding them at ridiculous speeds,’ Stelios said in a gruff tone.
Andreas’s mouth tightened. He hadn’t expected sympathy from his father, who had disapproved of his racing career. But the lecture he’d received while he had been recovering from his injuries had driven a wedge further between him and Stelios. It had been the same old rhetoric: Karelis Corp was his destiny and his duty.
‘I was the Superbike World Champion for four consecutive years,’ he reminded his father. ‘The racing team which I own and manage is regarded as a world leader in the development of analytics used to modernise engine configuration testing, and Aeolus Racing has sponsorship worth millions of dollars. I would not call that fooling around.’
Stelios frowned. ‘Your place is here in Greece, not in California. You know that I would like to retire and you should be preparing to take my place as head of the company.’
‘You have spent much of your time in England for the past eighteen months,’ Andreas pointed out. ‘Every time I visited you in London I tried to talk about Karelis Corp, and in particular some worrying rumours I have heard about the company, but you refused to discuss things with me.’
A dark flush appeared on Stelios’s face. ‘I need to be sure of your commitment to Karelis Corp. If you spent less time womanising, and there were fewer stories about your personal life in the gutter press I would feel more confident about handing the most powerful role in the company over to you.’
Andreas gritted his teeth. ‘You know full well that the woman who sold her story to the papers was lying.’
But the damage to his reputation had been done, Andreas thought bitterly. When lingerie model Sadie Barnes had told him she was pregnant with his child he’d asked for a paternity test. She had tearfully accused him of not trusting her, b
ut he’d insisted on a test. Instead, Sadie had sold a story to the tabloids saying that Andreas had abandoned her and his unborn baby.
The media storm had broken on the day he was due to compete in a motorbike race which, had he won, would have given him the title of World Superbike Champion for a record fifth time. But an hour before the race Stelios had phoned Andreas and accused him of bringing shame to the name Karelis and damaging the company. The furious exchange of words with his father had, Andreas was sure, contributed to his lapse of concentration that had resulted in the high-speed crash.
‘I accept that that particular story turned out to be untrue, but your playboy image is not good for Karelis Corp,’ Stelios muttered. ‘You should be thinking about marrying a suitable wife and settling down.’ Andreas gave a snort of derision and Stelios rose to his feet and shook his head when Isla immediately stood up. ‘Sit down and finish your breakfast, my dear.’ He spoke to her in a softer voice than he had used to his son. ‘I need to phone my lawyer and I’ll go to my study to make the call.’
Isla looked as though she wanted to argue as she watched Stelios walk slowly towards the house. After a few moments she sat back down and glared at Andreas. Clearly she blamed him for the argument with Stelios. The truth was that he and his father were both strong-willed, but Stelios wanted an heir he could mould into his likeness, not a maverick son who was determined to make his own mark on the world.
Andreas scowled at the plate of food in front of him, his appetite suddenly non-existent. He felt taut and strung out and his mood turned blacker with the realisation that for once he had no control over his feelings. For the first time in his life he wished he was far away from Louloudi, far away from the woman who had such an unsettling effect on him.
The floral fragrance of Isla’s perfume assailed him and his skin felt too tight for his body. He wondered what she would do if he walked around the table, leaned over and claimed her mouth with his. Would she respond to him as she had done in London? She had wanted him to kiss her on the terrace last night. Her eyes had flashed silver-bright with desire and he’d sensed the effort it had taken her to resist the attraction that blazed between them. He forced his mind back to the present when Isla spoke.
Proof Of Their Forbidden Night (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 3