by Trish Morey
Until his surging thrusts sent her spinning for a second time, light and weightless, as the wave of shimmering ecstasy lifted her out of herself to a place where nothing was important, nothing mattered, other than her blissful acceptance of his own shuddering, pumping release.
They lay together, their limbs entwined, their breathing raggedly steadying, bodies slick and spent.
Loukas stared blankly up towards the darkened ceiling, mentally congratulating himself on his unexpected progress. She’d fallen in with his plans much more quickly than he’d anticipated. How much longer should he wait before he could start asking her questions?
He turned his head to where he could just make out her profile in the darkened room, just see the line of her closed eyes, her slightly parted lips, as she replenished her oxygen-depleted lungs. New questions sprang to mind—new questions that had nothing to do with the reason why she was here.
What was she hiding?
How could someone who looked like her be so inexperienced? Why would she be so shy? None of it made sense.
He’d scarcely believed her claim on the deck to be nervous, and yet she was an ingénue, and her performance had proved her near-innocence. She hadn’t lied to him—she’d been no virgin—though she had been deliciously tight and so responsive. She’d accepted his caresses with genuine enthusiasm, and yet made no attempt to reciprocate or take control. She’d made no attempt to explore his body beyond his chest and back. She’d made no attempt take him in her hand.
His body hummed at the thought, already anticipating that act. He’d like to feel her soft fingers curl around him, maybe even… He felt a sudden rush of blood at the prospect. No, she might not be a virgin but she was the next best thing. It would be more than gratifying to teach her more, to have her learn more of what he liked.
And why shouldn’t he make the most of this opportunity? It had been a long time since he’d been interested in a woman.
It had been a long time since Zoë.
His breathing stilled, before softly expelling the air in his lungs on a sigh as he curled one hand behind his head. Four years it would be, come December. Four years since her vivacious green eyes had danced for him, and he’d wound her long dark hair around his hands and tugged her laughing mouth closer to his.
But then, it was probably longer still than that. It might be coming up to four years since she’d died, but they’d not made love for months before her death. He’d accepted her claims of illness or inconvenience for far too long, not realising that under her clothes her five-foot-ten-inch frame had been reduced to little more than a walking skeleton. And yet still she’d complained of being fat, exercising herself until she’d collapsed.
She’d never been fat, even when they’d first met, and he’d had no inkling of the insecurities lurking below her glamorous exterior. But even before she’d become so ill, so obsessed with the body beautiful and how cosmetic surgery could lend a hand, he’d never found on her the lush curves he’d enjoyed so much tonight.
He expelled a burst of air, guilt seeping into his consciousness. No, it had been too long if he was starting to compare the likes of this woman with Zoë.
Zoë didn’t deserve it.
Still, that needn’t stop him from pursuing his plan. He had the time now. The latest from his father said that Olympia was leaving on a shopping trip to Paris in the morning, meaning she was safe from Della-Bosca’s witchcraft for a few days at least.
Which gave him the perfect opportunity to take his time with Jade.
He’d get the information he wanted. There was no doubt of that. Already he could sense her attitude warming to him, her once prickly defences coming down. A few more days of this and she would be his to control. She’d tell him everything he wanted to know and more. She wouldn’t stand a chance.
But first he’d make the most of her refreshingly innocent body. He’d teach her how to pleasure a man. He’d teach her how to pleasure him. And then he’d take as much of her as he had time for.
He turned fully to her, running his hand along her sensual side-on curves and stirring her provocatively back into wakefulness.
There was no time like the present to begin.
CHAPTER SIX
‘LOUKAS? It’s Con.’ His father’s strident tones boomed down the landline. ‘Olympia is back in the States.’
Loukas reeled and checked the chronometer on his watch. Not already! ‘Are you certain?’
‘I told you she was only going for three to four days! She called her mother today when she got back. Stella dropped that she’s going in for some “home improvements” this week. So, what have you found out?’
‘I’m…working on it,’ Loukas managed, trying to work out where in God’s name three days had gone.
‘What? I thought you had that girl eating out of your hand? What the hell have you been doing?’
Loukas took a desperate gasp for oxygen. Eating out of his hand. He might have used those exact words himself the last time he’d called his father, but eating out of his hand wasn’t the direction his thoughts had been going in just lately. Not the way his student had been so skilfully progressing. ‘It’s—more complicated than I thought.’
‘No way!’
‘Listen, Con, about Jade—she’s not what we assumed. It’s taking more time to get what I want.’
‘There is no more time! You know what those paparazzi are like. I’m trying to run on a family ticket and I haven’t got time right now to come over and sort Olympia out. The papers will make a meal out of me if they snap her coming out of a place like that. So you need to find her first. You have to find out when she’s scheduled for surgery and you have to keep her out of there.’
‘I know that,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to.’
‘Then try harder. Have you tried calling her lately?’
‘You know she won’t take my calls—not after what happened before. Chasing her halfway across the country to stop her from making the mistake of her life and marrying Kurt sure hasn’t helped me out in the big brother stakes. She’s not likely to talk to me any time soon, Con.’
‘Then use that woman of yours more effectively. She knows something. If she’s in with Della-Bosca then she has to. Find out what it is and stop her.’
Loukas raked his fingers through his hair as he looked skyward. Yeah, what his father said all made sense, but… Just lately he’d been beginning to think he’d made a mistake. For all the things he’d thought so fake about Jade, she seemed so real in his arms. And she felt damned real in his bed.
‘Loukas!’
‘I’m here.’
‘This is more important than ever. You can’t let Olympia get dragged through the papers. Not now. It’s crucial you stop her.’
‘I know. I’ll sort it out for her. She’s my sister, after all. I’m not going to let anything happen to her.’
‘She’s not your sister.’
‘Well, half-sister, then. It’s the same thing isn’t it? She’s family.’
‘Listen to me, Loukas. Very carefully. She’s not your sister. Not by blood, at any rate.’
The silence hung between them, a dank and heavy curtain that smothered conversation for several seconds.
‘What are you saying? I thought that was why you married Stella—because she was having your baby.’
‘That’s what I thought too. And, even though her colouring was all wrong, I was too besotted with your stepmother back then to think anything of the baby’s blonde hair. All I cared about was that ten years after your mother had died I’d been lucky enough to find another beautiful wife and father another child. It never occurred to me then that Olympia might not be mine.’
‘So she’s not my sister—at all?’ No wonder they’d never connected—on any level. It wasn’t just half a generation and attitudes that separated them, it was their parentage as well.
‘Unless your father was a Scandinavian prince—no.’ He hesitated. ‘Which is why nobody wants this getting out to the
press. Not a sniff. Everything has to stay locked down—until after the primaries at least.’
‘How long have you known?’ Loukas asked.
He could hear his father’s irritated exhalation all those miles away. The older man was still angry about it. ‘It started to bug me when she was growing up—let’s face it, she hardly looked like a Demakis! But it was only about eight months ago that Stella finally confirmed it—that I didn’t father Olympia.’
‘Eight months ago?’ echoed Loukas, nodding as another piece of the puzzle slotted into place. ‘Just before she suddenly took off with the brat-pack and married Kurt.’
‘Well, I sure as hell didn’t tell her!’ his father said. ‘It was Stella. She thought she had a right to know.’
It all made sense to Loukas. No wonder she’d gone so far off the rails. She’d always fought against all things Demakis—news like that would have been the last straw. And he could see why his father didn’t want the press involved. If the scandal sheets got hold of a story like this before the elections they’d have a field day.
‘Can’t Stella help you get through to her now?’
‘Pia won’t listen to her—not now she’s got that bum Kurt telling her what to do. She only calls her mother up now to irritate the hell out of her. She says her mother betrayed her, should never have married me. Now she feels vindicated for hating me all these years, and it’s payback time for Stella.’ He hauled in a long burst of air.
‘But Olympia has to be stopped, and you’re the only one who can reach her. Nobody knows better than you what this Della-Bosca woman is capable of. You have to get her out of there, Loukas, no matter what it takes!’
Tonight was the night. For three days now she’d lived a life of bliss, being whisked away by Loukas to the Malibu Beach house and made love to late into the night. Life had never been so good. Life had never been so happy.
Only guilt threatened to cloud her joy—the guilt that she hadn’t been honest with him.
Jade finished writing up the notes from her last patient for the day and closed down her computer. Loukas would be collecting her soon, and already her blood fizzed in anticipation. But this time more than ever it was anticipation tinged with foreboding.
She entered the en suite bathroom adjoining her office to freshen up. Every day she’d sworn that this night would be the one—that she’d reveal her secret tonight, that she would leave the light on and take off her clothes and let him discover the truth.
And every night her resolve to tell Loukas had been blown away by the sheer force of their lovemaking and the knowledge that things would have to change once he knew.
Her face stared back at her in the mirror. What would it be like for him to see her scars for the first time? Would he think them as bad as she anticipated or worse? How would he react? In horror? In revulsion? Or would it just turn him off completely? There weren’t a lot of options, and none of them were good. He could hardly react with joy.
On a sudden whim she lifted the hem of her knitted top and pulled it over her head before she could change her mind. Her satin and lace bra followed. She needed to prepare herself for what was to come. She needed to be able to face what she expected him to.
She opened her eyes and looked into the mirror. First at her eyes—a little bewildered, a lot afraid—then at her mussed hair, and finally to the red mottled stain that started on one side of her ribcage and crept up like a red wine stain on a white tablecloth, the edges crazily uneven, to devour most of her left breast.
She squeezed her eyes shut. The contrast with her untanned white skin only accentuated the scars. And if she found it ugly…
But it couldn’t be put off any longer. No more covering up with robes, with lace teddies and negligees. No more hiding from the light, no more deception. If she couldn’t trust Loukas now, after what they’d shared, then she was never going to be able to trust him.
She summoned all the strength she had as she replaced her clothes, smoothing her hair before heading for the exit.
Tonight was the night!
She was waiting for him outside the clinic, just as they’d arranged, and one sight of her was enough to quicken his pulse in anticipation of what the night would bring. She’d been such a good student, eager and quick to learn, turning from an innocent into a she-devil in less time than he would have imagined possible even under his skilful tutelage.
And yet he hadn’t managed to transform her completely. She was a strange mix—so sexy with her new knowledge one minute, and yet still so shy and innocent the next. She continued to plead to make love in the dark, as he hungered to see her body stripped of the shadows she preferred to adorn herself with.
But time had run out. He gritted his teeth as he remembered his father’s call. Olympia was back, and about to book herself into the clinic at any time. Which meant there was no more time for instruction of his protégée—no more time to break down her last remaining barriers.
And that annoyed him intensely.
How could time have slipped away so quickly? He wasn’t finished with her yet—not by a long way. He hadn’t had enough of her lush curves, her responsive body, the incredible feeling of her shattering in his arms as he pumped into her.
His teeth clenched as he pulled into the kerb alongside her, noticing the way the breeze sculpted the soft fabric of her skirt around the sensational legs beneath. Legs that climbed all the way up to a place where he’d found paradise for the last three nights. A place that would be available to him only in his memories once she discovered his real purpose.
He rammed the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.
Damn his father!
Damn his sister and her useless husband!
And damn Della-Bosca and the industry that fed like parasites off the insecure, fuelling their endless pursuit for the perfect body!
He lifted his eyes from Jade’s legs long enough to notice her slight frown—too bad if she’d picked up on his mood, he was too angry to pretend everything was all right. And it didn’t matter if he wasn’t the perfect host tonight. He had a more important job to do.
She had to tell him whatever she knew. Whatever Della-Bosca had planned for his sister he would have to prevent. And then hopefully he would have enough evidence to put her away for life. It was time someone did.
‘You seem tense,’ she said, when finally, after a conversation-starved journey, they arrived at the house. ‘Is something the matter?’
She waited while he fixed them both a drink, almost afraid to breathe, already rethinking her plans to come clean. Could it be that he was tiring of her already? Was her lack of experience and finesse a turn-off for him?
The thought almost paralysed her with a kind of grief—the last few nights had been the best in her life, and Loukas was the reason. But if he didn’t want her any more…
He turned then, and what she saw almost made her recoil—because for the briefest second his face looked exactly as it had done the first time she’d seen him: harsh and unforgiving and etched with a hostility she couldn’t fathom. But then in a blink of his eyes it was gone, replaced by a smile she’d become more familiar with, a smile that seemed so warm and sincere she almost reeled in confusion, wondering whether she’d imagined the transformation.
But she had seen that momentary flash in his eyes, the chiselled set of his chin. Underneath the façade he was angry with her—but why?
Unless he knew! Fear pooled deep down in her gut, turning the contents of her stomach to rebellion mode. She’d thought she was being careful enough, but maybe he’d discovered her secret himself. Maybe he was furious with her for not telling him, for deceiving him—just like Garry had been.
It was history repeating itself. Here was another man she’d hidden the truth from. Another man deceived. Why the hell hadn’t she learned something from her first appalling experience? Why the hell had she waited to tell Loukas?
Fool, she thought, as he left the drinks on the bar and closed the distance b
etween them empty-handed. Her stomach churned, her feet seemingly cemented to the floor when all she really wanted to do was flee. Of course she’d waited! Because she’d known exactly what would happen once she told him—she wouldn’t see him for dust. And she would have missed out on three incredible nights, the scorching memories of which were going to keep her warm at night long after he was gone.
Was that what he was building up to now? Was this the end?
She swallowed as he came to a standstill in front of her, the action forcing up her chin defiantly. ‘Have I done something wrong?’ She’d dredged confidence from somewhere. Her words sounded far braver than she felt. But she had to know where she stood. Her mind was already working on her defence. I was going to tell you! Now! Tonight!
He said nothing, the wine glasses on the bar forgotten, the look on his face confusing her—too many tangled emotions to make sense of, too much to understand. Then a muscle in his jaw spasmed, lifting the corner of his mouth, and somehow the layers seemed to slide from his features, the anger, the resentment dissolving away, so that all that was left was undisguised and all the more potent. Raw desire—need—there was no misinterpreting his message now.
‘I’m not actually all that thirsty any more,’ he said, his breath brushing lightly across her cheek, setting her skin to prickling awareness all the way down to her toes. ‘How about you?’
His eyes riveted her to the spot. She could no sooner take her eyes from his than walk to the moon. She gave a single barely-there shake of her head. ‘No,’ she said.
He smiled then, and curved his arms around her neck, the pads of his fingers still cool from the wine glasses while the reaction they triggered was anything but. His thumbs stroked her earlobes, tugging gently on her gold hoops. Her eyelids fluttered closed. There was something wonderfully sexy about the way he did that, something strangely hypnotic—his eyes locked on hers, his fingers tugging, insistent, on her soft flesh.
Then his mouth dipped to hers, and it was the turn of his mouth to catch her bottom lip, securing the plump flesh between his teeth before releasing it. Again and again he repeated the tender gesture, as sweetly as if he were playing an instrument, while she stood entranced, eyes closed, the rhythm of his gentle movements building on the need mounting, coiling inside.