Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8

by Cathy Williams

  Leon Kariakis didn’t actually want anything from her. He had more money than he knew what to do with and he had an endless stream of willing women. He was simply stuck with her and being honourable about it—saying all the right things, attempting to do the right things. But wasn’t that only going to lead to resentment in the end? He’d never want to be trapped together for good with her. And his ‘contract’ was too unbalanced. He was offering a ring and room in his penthouse…and what did she bring to the party? Her overly efficient womb.

  ‘You’re offering all this…paying for so much,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It doesn’t seem fair. What do you get out of it?’

  His expression smouldered. ‘I get what I want.’

  Something heavy shifted within her. That low drag deep in her belly that pulled her towards him. But he meant the baby, right?

  ‘Ettie.’ That low, irresistible growl sounded.

  ‘Yes.’ It whispered out before she’d even thought it.

  He was the one who moved, walking towards her until there was too little space between them. ‘Let’s go and get your things from your flat.’ His voice was husky.

  She couldn’t move.

  ‘Ettie…’ He put his hand on her waist. The amber lights glowed in his deep brown eyes. But he didn’t smile. He looked edgier than ever as he applied pressure and pulled her against him until she was in no doubt of his physical response to her.

  ‘Will this be…part of the contract?’ She flung her chin up, determined to hold her own with him. Because if she couldn’t do that now, she had no chance of keeping him in check.

  Something flashed in his eyes. ‘I’ll be faithful to you and I expect the same in return. But I’m not going to demand sexual favours. There won’t be a clause detailing a minimum number of intimacies each week.’

  She opened her mouth, shocked at the suggestion. At the appallingly hot response of her treacherous body to such a requirement.

  ‘If anything happens, it’s up to us in that moment. Just like normal,’ he said. ‘No expectations, no repercussions…regardless of what we do in private.’

  No repercussions? It was so ironic, but she couldn’t laugh. Right now she couldn’t even breathe.

  He ran his hand down her spine, coming to rest his palm on the curve of her hip. ‘Maybe we should stop negotiating…’

  Her body melted. He was seducing her into saying yes. And she knew he could, so easily. Abruptly she pulled out from his hold. ‘Maybe you don’t try to distract me like that.’

  ‘Maybe that kind of distraction would be good for you,’ he countered with a small smile.

  Sensation rippled down her spine. ‘Maybe we should just go and get my stuff.’

  She heard his low laugh as she walked away. She realised too late that he’d manipulated her into doing what he wanted. He’d easily played her…because he knew she was weak with want for him still. She screwed her eyes shut; that was so mortifying. Echoes of her ex-fiancé’s callousness circled in her head—building her demons of insecurity. She hated her inexperience.

  ‘Come on, glykia mou. Let’s get moving.’

  ‘What does it mean?’ she asked. ‘That expression?’

  Another flicker of a smile curved his lips. ‘My sweet.’

  ‘You think that’s going to get you extra points?’ she asked tartly. But she was breathless beneath the weak sarcasm. It was really unfair of him because he didn’t mean it.

  ‘I think it’s only a matter of time,’ he murmured wryly. ‘And I think you know it as well as I do.’

  ‘You weren’t interested in a repeat,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘Because you shut me down.’ He shot her an astounded look. ‘I was respecting your wishes.’ And he didn’t look all that happy about it.

  Her heart thundered. He’d thought she’d shut him down? ‘And now?’

  ‘All bets are off.’

  Craving curled through her body. Intense, shocking, explicit want. It was desire for contact, right? Physical closeness because she felt alone. It was just an instinctive, basic need that she was determined to suppress.

  ‘The situation is what it is, Ettie,’ he added. ‘We might as well make the most of it.’

  ‘And in your world “making the most of it” is us sleeping together again?’ she jeered bitterly.

  ‘We do it pretty well.’

  Pretty well? Great. For him it had been just as average as she’d feared and he was just using her weakness for him to get what he wanted.

  He suddenly chuckled. ‘Oh, Ettie, you’re so transparent.’

  Before she could argue he turned her to face him and brushed his lips over hers in the lightest whisper of a kiss. Her breathing faltered—all that tantalising promise was only a breath away. But he didn’t mean any of it.

  ‘It’s not fair of you to tease me this way.’ She valiantly defended her heart when he lifted his head from hers.

  Because he knew, didn’t he, just how overwhelmed she was by his sensuality?

  But at her words he stilled. A second after the lift door opened, she found herself with her back against the wall of the lift and he was right there in front of her. Hot, fierce fury unfurled deep and low in her belly at the smoking expression in his eyes.

  ‘I’m not teasing,’ he muttered.

  Leon slammed his mouth over hers—determined to draw out her spark even if it was only because she was aggravated with him. He wanted her fire. He kissed her hard and deep, plundering her softness with a flick of his tongue. The flare within her was instant. Her hunger took him by surprise and unleashed his own. Hell, he’d wanted this and he’d been too long denied. He curled her arms around his neck so he could haul her closer and grind her against the wall. Her fingers twisted and locked in his hair.

  The heady relief at having her in his arms again contrasted with the burning desire tightening his body to the point of pain. He was angry she’d held him at bay when she so clearly craved his touch the way he ached for hers. Now he was mad with her. Now he wanted to torment her. To please her.

  She moaned as he cupped her breast with a firm, greedy hand. Her nipple strained against her shirt. Her fingers tightened in his hair. She was so hot he lost his head completely, rushing straight back into that insane intensity of all-consuming lust. He’d suffered weeks of being without this. He didn’t know how he’d stood it.

  A bell pinged somewhere in the distance. It took him a moment to realise that the lift door had slid open.

  ‘Oh, excuse me.’

  Leon froze and glanced down at Ettie, amused to see her turn bright pink. She hurriedly disentangled her fingers from his hair and craned her head to see who it was talking.

  It turned out the lift hadn’t stopped at the basement. He hadn’t even had the brains to push the damn buttons in his haste to touch her. The lift had been summoned by another resident. As a result it had stopped halfway down the building and right now Autumn Welby was staring at them with frank fascination.

  ‘I’ll wait for the lift to return. Nice to see you’re back, Ettie,’ she said breezily. ‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better.’

  Leon glanced again at Ettie, but now she’d gone pale. He tightened one arm around her waist and reached out with the other to push the button on the lift.

  ‘Ettie won’t be back on the concierge desk for the foreseeable future,’ he said briskly, sending Autumn a dismissive smile.

  ‘Oh.’ Autumn nodded. ‘Lovely for you, terrible for me.’

  The lift doors slid shut again and he looked back into Ettie’s face to see nothing but fury.

  ‘For the foreseeable future?’ she repeated in a frigid voice. ‘Just like that, Leon?’

  Yeah, just like that. He wasn’t about to apologise and he didn’t have the brain to explain it all just yet.

  She extricated herself from his arm and folded her own across her chest, all but tapping her foot as the lift swept down to the basement.

  ‘Everyone will know now.’ She threw him an appalled look
as she stomped out into the garage. ‘Everyone will know in minutes.’

  ‘Ettie, we’re getting married. You’re having my baby.’ He followed her slowly, determined to remain calm and get his head around her response to that kiss. ‘They’re going to find out some time anyway; it might as well be now.’

  She drew herself up short and whirled to face him. ‘But it’s so early…’

  A horrible thought hit. Was she worried about miscarrying the baby? Was that even a possibility? A surge of protectiveness—and self-condemnation—welled in him. He shouldn’t be pawing her when she needed rest.

  ‘Everything will be fine.’ He pushed past the hoarseness in his voice and led her to his roadster. He didn’t want his driver for this ride. He needed his own hands on the wheel. ‘You’re fit, healthy, strong.’

  And so damn beautiful that all he wanted to do was scoop her into his arms, toss her onto the nearest bed and pick up where they’d left off before they’d been so brutally interrupted. But he couldn’t exhaust her with his selfish lust. He had to put both her and the baby ahead of his own desire. Ettie needed certainty and security. She had too many worries, too many responsibilities. But he’d lift them from her. And while lust might not last, it would get them through this phase until they settled into a long-term arrangement. He could provide her with a lifestyle she’d only ever dreamed about. She’d never have to worry about paying for her own groceries or heating again. She didn’t have to scrimp and save for her sister’s education. She could care for their baby and breathe easily for the rest of her life. Those key points she could never argue against and never beat. He had this situation won and she knew it.

  ‘You’ll have to get another car.’ She glanced at the Italian two-seater.

  He nodded.

  ‘What about Ophelia’s holidays?’

  ‘I have plenty of space.’ He didn’t tell her he meant his London home. They weren’t staying at Cavendish House another night. She was too uncomfortable and he understood that. They needed privacy. She needed the space to let go of her inhibitions—to scream his name as she came.

  Cool it, Romeo. He mocked himself. She was exhausted and overwhelmed and the last thing she needed was him making physical demands on her. He’d won already. He could wait a little longer.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT TOOK ETTIE only five minutes later to fill a small case with clothes and a few very personal effects from her flat. She went to fetch her coat from where it hung over the back of a chair.

  ‘Leave it,’ he said. ‘We’ll get you a new one.’

  She stiffened, saddened that he’d noticed how worn it was. She cast a last glance around the room. How was it possible that such a tiny apartment could feel so empty? She’d helped her sister learn to read here. She’d made Ophelia’s lunches and cleaned her uniforms. For so long it had been the two of them against the world…

  And she wasn’t telling Ophelia about this yet. Not until she’d got control of everything—mostly her emotions.

  ‘I’ll get the rest of your things boxed up; don’t worry about any of it.’

  Don’t worry?

  Her mother had fallen for the wrong man more than once. Ettie had made an almighty mistake putting her faith in a guy already… But maybe Leon’s way was right? Maybe it was as simple as writing up the list—the pros and the cons and being cool-headed about it.

  He wanted the baby. She came with it. So he’d keep her happy to keep her onside—give her a home, help support her sister. He might even have sex with her if she played her cards right. But even that for him wasn’t emotional. It was a relaxant—a satisfying physical release. An added bonus to the deal they’d made.

  Maybe it could be just fun for her too? Maybe she could be more like Leon? He seemed to have it so completely together…

  The irony was that everything had been pretty fine—better than it had in ages actually. She’d been making it work in this final stretch of Ophelia’s schooling. But now it felt as if her life had fragmented and all the elements were slipping from her control. She was furious with herself. But she couldn’t quite regret it completely.

  She watched Leon drive them back into the heart of London. He seemed to enjoy controlling the powerful machine. He appeared as calm as ever. Certain of his place in the world and the decisions he made. It was as if his handsome face had been carved from marble by a master craftsman. Expressionless. Emotionless, he’d locked back into business focus easily. So he really had only been teasing moments ago, while she’d been almost desperate for his touch. Now she shivered with a horrible fear she was going to feel even more alone living in his apartment.

  ‘Where are we going?’ She sat up and twisted to read the road sign. ‘We just went past Cavendish House.’

  ‘We’re going home.’

  ‘The penthouse there is your home.’

  ‘No, that’s where I was staying for a few weeks while I studied my new investment. This is my home.’

  They’d turned into a quiet side street in the heart of Mayfair. Her heart ceased beating. It wasn’t an apartment in a building, but the whole building. She’d known he was wealthy, but this wasn’t a millionaire’s penthouse; this property was worth multi-multi-millions—a billionaire’s mansion in one of the most expensive streets on the planet.

  ‘How many bedrooms?’ she muttered.

  ‘Only six.’ He walked ahead of her. ‘Four bathrooms.’

  Oh, was that all? She shook her head after him as he led the way. There was a gleaming kitchen—light, airy, equipped with appliances Ettie wouldn’t know how to turn on…

  ‘There’s a catering kitchen and staff quarters downstairs.’

  She blinked. ‘You have a lot of staff?’

  ‘I have a housekeeper; she doesn’t live on site but she comes every other day. She’ll prep food for us if we want. My executive assistant sometimes uses it if we’re working late on a deal.’

  ‘Oh?’ She tried not to imagine his beautiful assistant. ‘I expect she’s very efficient.’

  Leon sent her a sideways, all too knowing look. ‘He is.’

  Ettie stared, overwhelmed by the trio of reception rooms. The home gym and pool and cinema room almost gave her conniptions. It was all beautifully furnished in muted greys and neutrals, with pops of colour—shades of blue in a few rooms, green in another. The curved wrought-iron balustrade of the staircase revealed snippets of the delights of each level. There were both polished wooden floors and plush carpets, and the light fittings sparkled like works of art themselves…speaking of which, striking paintings adorned the walls. The bathrooms were lined with vast marble and gleaming chrome…the entire house was a simply exquisite, designer’s wet dream.

  Yeah, he’d really been slumming it at Cavendish House. She’d thought that was exclusive, but this was a whole new level of luxury.

  ‘Why did you buy it?’ she asked out of complete curiosity. What did he need such a big home for?

  He looked surprised by her question. ‘I liked it.’ He glanced around the recreation room. ‘Don’t you like it?’

  She’d have to be mad not to adore it. She thought of the inviting crystal-clear blue of his indoor pool and the spa alongside it. ‘You use the beauty treatment room often?’

  Grinning, he shook his head. ‘No, nor the bar and home cinema much either. You’re welcome to it all, of course; this is your home now.’

  She didn’t think she’d ever feel at home in such an immaculate, luxurious space. It seemed every item in it was unique and priceless.

  ‘Where are the bedrooms?’

  He led her up the curving staircase. ‘There are a couple of bedrooms on each of these floors. The study up on the top floor opens onto a rooftop terrace; it’s nice on sunny days. But this is my room.’

  His bedroom alone was larger than her entire flat. An enormous bed was the centrepiece, but the room was large enough to hold a sofa and an armchair as well as a beautiful wooden cabinet. A wide doorway offered a glimpse of the gleam
ing marble and black finish of his bathroom.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Which is my room?’

  He sent her a glinting look. ‘If you don’t want to be in mine, you can choose any of the others. Though I’d prefer it if you were on the same floor as me. For later in the pregnancy.’

  No, she did not want to be in his room, or even on his floor. He wasn’t having everything his own way.

  Ettie snatched up her bag and marched to the bedroom furthest from his, knowing damn well she was spiting herself as much as him in this small act of defiance.

  ‘I’m going to run a couple of errands,’ he said coolly, following her to the room she chose. ‘I’ll be back in an hour or so. You take your time and settle in.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  ‘Fancy anything in particular to eat?’

  She shook her head. ‘Whatever you think will be nice.’

  He nodded and left.

  It took only a moment for Ettie to hang her few clothes—they really didn’t suit the designer walk-in wardrobe. With a rueful grimace, she walked around the house again—taking in more details now Leon wasn’t here to distract her. It really was incredible. It even had its own garden, which in this space-at-a-premium part of London was almost unheard-of. The whole place was impeccably maintained—that housekeeper clearly had fun keeping it pristine and photo-spread-worthy, with perfectly folded towels at the ready and vases of fresh flowers to give the place vibrancy. All this for one guy?

  He came from a completely different world to hers.

  But what struck her even more was the lack of anything particularly personal of Leon’s on display. There were no family photos, or holiday snaps. The only vaguely personal images were some arty black and white shots of some buildings—buildings he owned, including this one. It seemed his property empire was everything he cared about.

  She returned to the bedroom she’d chosen and walked into the stunning white and grey marble bathroom. She simply couldn’t resist that deep-set bath. Not when there was that selection of French perfumed soaps and salts to add to it. Not when she needed to relax so badly. A few minutes later she sank into the gloriously scented, warm depths.