Ultimate Heroes Collection

by Various Authors

  That smile caught on Andreas’ nerves. Caught and held and twisted. He found himself torn between two totally contrasting sensations. In one moment he experienced a real delight in seeing that smile, seeing the way it lit up her face, the way it curved the fullness of her lips, softening the kissable mouth and making it infinitely more tempting than before, and at the same time endured something else. That ‘something else’ was a feeling that was the total opposite of delight, totally at war with pleasure. Without knowing where it had come from, Andreas suddenly found that he was filled with a black fury, racked with a terrible sense of hatred that had him clenching his hands into hard fists at his sides, biting down fiercely on his bottom lip to stop himself from speaking and letting the savage anger that crouched inside him out into the open.

  ‘I never thought of it that way,’ Becca said and even her voice was very different from the way it had sounded before. It was light and easy, relaxed and touched with a hint of flirtatious teasing. ‘But now that you’ve explained it—it makes total sense.’

  ‘Of course it does,’ a second voice put in. A deeper, thickly accented voice. A male voice and one that Andreas recognised at once.

  It was Leander’s voice. Leander his PA. Leander, his young, tall, dark and handsome PA.

  A terrible sense of jealousy ripped through him, driving away all sense of rationality, all hope of calm. His jaw tightened, clamped into a thin, hard line until it ached and he could feel the rage rising in him like lava in a volcano, boiling up to the surface and threatening to spill out over the top, engulfing everything in a blazing, burning flood of fire.

  Another slow, silent step downwards moved him to a position where he could see fully into the room. He could see where Leander lounged against the wall, long legs crossed at the ankles, dark face smiling, a glass in his own hand.

  ‘Never argue Greek legends with a Greek,’ the younger man said now, waving his drink in the air to emphasise his point, his smile seeming to Andreas’ watchful gaze to be intimate, almost conspiratorial.

  ‘I won’t,’ Becca said and the gleam of amusement in her face, the smile she directed at Leander twisted a knife deep inside Andreas.

  He could feel his head start to pound, his breath becoming raw and uneven. He didn’t ask himself where the rage was coming from, just accepted it as right, as the way he should feel. Wasn’t this why he had told himself she had to go? That she was trouble if she stayed around?

  He’d had enough.

  Taking the last two steps down in a single jump, he marched into the room, his black mood showing in every stride, every movement. His attention totally focused on Becca, he saw the way that her head swung round, eyes widening in sudden confusion.

  And guilt? Perhaps there was a touch of it. Certainly her face went white enough to make it seem that way.

  ‘OK, that’s it,’ he snapped, watching her eyelids flutter, her long dark lashes dipping to conceal her gaze just for a moment in a reaction to his appearance that she couldn’t disguise.

  ‘It’s time you left. Time you were out of here—now, ‘he added more forcefully when she simply sat back in her chair and stared at him, her mouth very slightly open, those beautiful eyes now blinking hard in shock as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  ‘But …’

  ‘Andreas …’ Leander put in but Andreas ignored him and addressed his words straight into Becca’s stunned face. ‘Did you hear what I said?’ ‘Oh, I heard all right …’

  Becca was having to struggle to keep control of her voice enough to answer him. Her heart had lurched so hard, so violently when Andreas had come into the room that just for a moment she had thought she might actually faint from the shock of it. But even as she recovered a whole new tide of emotions had swept over her, a sense of apprehension so fierce as to be almost total panic being uppermost amongst them.

  What was happening? Why was Andreas behaving like this? Earlier that afternoon, upstairs in his room, he had been distant it was true, but polite enough. Now he was in a dark, icy rage, his handsome features set into a mask of total hostility and rejection that made the panic come worryingly closer, her heart fluttering disturbingly and her thoughts whirling out of control.

  Had he remembered what had happened? Had something she’d done betrayed her so that Andreas had realised the true situation between them and had now come downstairs in savage rage to turn on the wife he had rejected so brutally twelve months ago and force her out of his home once again?

  ‘But I’ve only just unpacked.’

  ‘Then pack again,’ he commanded, eyes like cruel lasers fixed on her confused and worried face.

  She knew this mood of old and it frightened her. When he was like this, then Andreas had no intention of yielding anything—he would not be swayed in any way. Harsh memories of the way that he had flung almost exactly those words at her a year before now resurfaced and threatened to take all her emotional strength away at a blow.

  At last the haze in her mind was easing enough for her to be able to see him clearly but just the sight of him was enough to rock her composure once again.

  His pure white shirt was worn casually loose, clinging to broad, straight shoulders and falling softly over the leather belt at his waist, the narrow hips. The fine cotton contrasted sharply with the hardness of taut muscle underneath, the pale colour throwing the golden tones of his skin into sharp, devastating contrast. His jeans had been worn and washed so many times that they were faded and rubbed, actually beginning to rip in places, and clinging with an almost sensuous closeness to the long, powerful legs. The hems were frayed where they fell over long, narrow feet, the toes curling slightly on the polished wooden floor. He looked much more like some untamed, unsophisticated Greek shepherd, or perhaps a fisherman, rather than the urbane and powerful multimillionaire he actually was. And, when he was dressed as simply and as casually as this, it was the sheer physical power of the man that hit home hard and strong, knocking her off balance fast with his appeal to the most primitive, most basic part of her female nature. Her blood was pulsing in her veins so much that she almost missed it when he spoke again.

  ‘Pack up and get out.’

  ‘But you said—’

  ‘I know what I said and I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need a woman in my life and certainly not one who’s going to spend her time flirting with the rest of my staff.’

  Flirting …

  Well, at least there was one tiny hint of something that might give her a hope that all was not lost. Flirting, he’d said. So if a touch of jealousy was his problem, then perhaps the game was not up after all. Perhaps there was still a chance that he hadn’t realised the truth about who she was.

  It would be a bitter irony if he had. After the moment of weakness when she’d fled the bedroom in a panic, she had finally managed to get a grip on herself. It was the thought of Daisy that had done it. The memory of the tiny, frail little body she had last seen inside a hospital incubator, wires and tubes seeming to be attached to each tiny limb, to every inch of the baby’s skin. She could still hear in her head the doctor’s voice, giving them the terrible, the soul-destroying truth.

  Daisy was a desperately sick little baby. To save her life she needed a vital operation—an operation that was so new, so experimental that only one surgeon in America had ever performed it successfully. If they could find the money…

  Becca shuddered inwardly as she recalled the overwhelming despair that she and Macy had suffered at that moment. There was no way … no way but one.

  Daisy’s plight was what had brought her to speak to Andreas in the first place. Surely, even hating her as he did, her ex-husband could not harden his heart against the tiny girl. If only she could stay here long enough for him to regain his memory so that she could ask him for help. That image had stiffened her spine and brought her downstairs fired by a new determination to succeed. It had even given her the courage to tell Leander a version of the truth. That Andreas had been asking for her
and so she was here to take care of him.

  To her delight and amazement Leander had not only supported her idea, he had even got straight on the phone to the agency to tell them the nurse they had been asked to provide would not be needed.

  ‘After all,’ Leander had said, ‘who better to care for a man than his wife?’

  Leander, Becca decided, had a strong sentimental streak in him. But, as he had never met her when she had been in his employer’s life, then he obviously didn’t know that sentimental was the last way that Andreas would feel about his particular wife. But she didn’t disillusion him. Having Leander on her side was more than she could hope for, and just that one small gesture of support had made her feel that she could stay. That she might just be able to handle this—and hope to save baby Daisy as a result. She had even started to relax just a little.

  But that had been before Andreas had appeared in the room, stiff-necked and scowling, with dark fire in his eyes, and ordered her to pack up and go, destroying all her hopes in a single moment.

  ‘I wasn’t flirting.’

  Somehow she imposed the control she needed over her voice and made it sound calm and just a trifle indignant. She had to keep the pain of the last eleven months out of her voice. That would give her away for sure.

  But Andreas’ current lover—the mistress he assumed her to be—would feel much more able to cope with his temper and his jealousy.

  ‘No?’

  The mocking lift of one black eyebrow questioned her response in a way that almost shook her confidence. But she couldn’t let him get to her. For Daisy’s sake she had to be strong—for Daisy’s sake she had to make sure that she stayed here.

  ‘No!’

  The forceful emphasis got his attention, making those deep-set eyes widen just for a moment before his handsome features settled back into their expression of cynical scepticism.

  ‘Can I point out that you were the one who told me to come downstairs …?’

  The affronted tone was a good idea. It was quite clear that he hadn’t expected her indignation and was decidedly taken aback by it.

  ‘The one who lo …’

  No, don’t mention the locked door or protest about it—that would take things to a deeper level. One that was clouded by the past between them that he remembered nothing about.

  ‘The one who told me not to fuss.’

  That actually won her a tiny sign of acknowledgement from the dark, distant man before her. Not a nod, that would have been too much of a concession, but the proud head inclined faintly to one side and something flickered in the black eyes that might have been respect.

  ‘Kyrie Petrakos …’

  It was Leander who spoke, inserting his words carefully into the tensely silent stand-off that had come between them. He said something in Greek, speaking swiftly and, Becca thought, rather nervously. Obviously Leander felt that his job was on the line—so would he continue to support her?

  Andreas’ response was in the same language, sharp and obviously dismissive—a dismissal that was repeated when the younger man hesitated, looking distinctly uncomfortable and unsure.

  ‘It’s all right, Leander,’ Becca put in, turning to him, wanting to reassure him. ‘You don’t have to worry about me.’

  Out of the corner of her eye she could sense Andreas’ head snap round, feel the dark fire of his eyes burning into the back of her head as she spoke, and she could see the reflection of the furious glare in the concern on Leander’s face. But she made herself smile, pretending at a composure she was far from feeling.

  ‘Really …’ she said. ‘This isn’t your problem.’

  As she watched Leander leave, the silence behind her seemed to grow all the more ominous, all the more oppressive, and she held her breath as the door swung to after him, waiting for the inevitable explosion that she had sparked off with her response.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  TO HER astonishment it didn’t come. Instead there was a faint, soft sound. The sound of Andreas drawing in his breath and letting it out again in a deliberate attempt at control.

  ‘So who put you in charge?’ he drawled cynically. ‘Who gave you permission to give my staff orders?’

  ‘Not orders.’

  Becca caught her own breath, aiming to match his cold-toned restraint as she made herself turn round, coming to face him. She wouldn’t let his imposing stature, the arrogant set of his jaw, or the cold light in his eyes overawe her. If she did then he would win and she knew that Andreas Petrakos had never lost this sort of a battle in his life. He hadn’t almost tripled the family fortune in his thirty-three years by being anyone’s pushover, least of all any woman’s. But she had to manage this somehow; had to win herself at least permission to stay. The repercussions for Daisy if she didn’t were too terrible even to consider. She wasn’t going to let herself even imagine the possibility of defeat.

  ‘You’d already told him to leave. I was just making sure that he didn’t feel obliged to stay to protect me.’

  ‘You understand Greek?’

  Just for a moment Andreas sounded so taken aback that Becca actually allowed herself the smallest hint of a smile. Typical male—typical Greek male, she told herself. He made assumptions from his lordly position in charge of everything and was stunned to find that perhaps those suppositions and his assessment of the situation were not quite as perfect as he believed.

  ‘I don’t have to know precisely what words you used to know just what you meant,’ she pointed out. ‘So tell me, do you always order everyone around as if they were a dog that was yours to command?’

  ‘Leander values his job too much to do anything stupid.’

  ‘Leander knows that you’re in a vicious mood and liable to bite his head off if he didn’t do as he was told. You surely didn’t really think that I was flirting with him? You have to know that…’

  Yikes, no!

  Mentally Becca screeched to a halt, slamming the brakes on the foolishly betraying words she had almost let slip. Don’t go down that road—just don’t!

  Had she really been about to say to Andreas’s face that he had to know that when he was in a room—anywhere nearby—any other man just didn’t have a chance? That beside his incandescent male sexuality, every other male within a hundred miles became just a shadow of himself, fading into insignificance beside Andreas?

  ‘I have to know that what?’ Andreas enquired with silky menace when she caught herself up, biting hard on her foolish tongue. His brilliant dark eyes had narrowed sharply, the look he turned on her from them shrewdly assessing, and to Becca’s horror she felt a rush of embarrassed heat flooding her cheeks.

  ‘That I’m with you,’ she managed to force out.

  Her voice grew stronger as she recalled her thoughts of moments before, putting them into words to get herself out of the hole she had dug for herself. If she was his current mistress, then she would probably laugh off Andreas’ over-reaction just now.

  ‘And even if you don’t want anyone to fuss, if you’re determined to dismiss your staff like that, then someone needs to keep an eye on you.’

  ‘And you’re happy to do that?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Did his question mean that perhaps he was reconsidering? That he would let her stay after all? Behind her back, Becca crossed her fingers secretly. She didn’t know what she would do if Andreas still insisted that she leave.

  ‘You should sit down.’

  She waved a hand towards the nearest chair, cursing the way that, in her own eyes at least, her fingers’ unwanted tremor gave away too much to that cold-eyed scrutiny.

  ‘And would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee?’

  ‘Wine?’

  It was a deliberate provocation and a wicked gleam in his black eyes told her that he was testing her. But he moved towards the chair just the same.

  ‘You’re just out of hospital after a nasty accident. Do you think wine is a good idea? How about thinking of something else?’

&nb
sp; ‘I would but you’d probably veto that as well,’ Andreas tossed at her surprisingly lightly, but Becca noticed that he took the seat she’d indicated all the same.

  He sank down into it with every appearance of ease and lounged back, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles. He looked as if he was simply relaxing but there was a slight tightness to his mouth, a shadow on his skin that reminded her he was still convalescent. Pushing back her own chair, she got hastily to her feet.

  ‘I’ll get you some water, then.’

  ‘If that is all that you’re offering …’

  Andreas’ reply stopped her in mid-flight to the kitchen, and she froze for a moment before she turned slowly back again. Had she heard right? Was that note in his voice what she thought it had been?

  Was it possible that Andreas was actually flirting with her?

  She realised what had happened. She had taken the route in the conversation that she would have done when they were together and an argument had broken out. She had stood up for herself, refused to give in to his anger, then she had moved the subject away and on to another topic entirely—and Andreas had followed her. Just as he had used to do when they were together, he had let himself be eased out of his bad mood and into another, very different one.

  But was this different mood any less dangerous than before?

  There was one thing she did know and that was that the way to make Andreas reveal his hand when he was determined to keep it hidden was to challenge him—call his bluff. And although he might not remember her or their life together, this was still Andreas, wasn’t it? She had to know where she stood and she thought she knew the way to go about it.