by Lynne Graham
‘You’re annoyed that I didn’t phone you,’ he murmured with silken derision. ‘I’m a busy guy, and I make no apology for the fact.’
His very intonation was like a red rag to a bull for Maddie. Every syllable he spoke seemed to touch a raw nerve inside her and she bristled, green eyes brightening to emerald chips above her flushed cheekbones. ‘I suspect that you don’t apologise for very much in life. Obviously people let you get away with being rude and offensive and arrogant—’
‘Don’t forget insensitive,’ Giannis Petrakos purred in helpful addition, while his scorching golden eyes rested on her with raw incredulity. No woman had ever dared to criticise or insult him in such a way. Outraged though he was, he still could not quite believe that she was addressing him with such disrespect.
‘Yes—and that too!’ Maddie gasped, letting anger become the vent for her emotional turmoil. ‘Out of the blue you send an employee to tell me I’m going to have lunch with you…you don’t even bother asking…and then you send him back to pick me up. You act and you talk like you’re doing me a big favour. Are you so used to women falling over themselves to please you that you just assume I’m the same?’
It was exactly what Giannis was accustomed to. But torture would not have persuaded him to own up to the fact. In a graceful movement he shifted closer, invading her personal space with alacrity. He was seething with anger. He curled a purposeful hand to her chin and tipped up her face. His smouldering gaze clashed head-on with her startled upward glance. ‘You gave me good cause, glikia mou,’ he told her, his Greek accent roughening the delivery of every word.
Her nostrils flared at the faint exotic aroma of the designer cologne he used. Locked to his fierce appraisal, she was shocked to feel a pronounced prickle of sexual awareness travelling through her like a contained electric shock. Her nipples pouted and pushed against the lacy cups of her bra and she tensed in dismay. ‘I—’
‘And the invitation is still there in every look you give me—because the sex was fantastic,’ Giannis intoned thickly.
Her memory flung up an explicit image of his lean, powerful body engulfing hers, and the pain of initiation which had been followed by the waves of hot, piercing pleasure. But even as she helplessly responded, as though he had programmed her, she was shocked by his earthy candour. The sex was fantastic. Not exactly a solid base on which to build romantic girlie dreams, she thought painfully.
‘And that’s all you want.’
Giannis anchored a hand briefly in the luxuriant fall of her rippling curls and intoned steadily, ‘I want you. Whatever that entails.’
With a valiant effort Maddie detached herself and pulled back from him, snatching in a gulp of oxygen. She was trembling. ‘For how long?’
Giannis shifted graceful lean brown hands in a speaking gesture that asked how he could possibly answer such a question. Watching him, Maddie felt almost mesmerised by his cool sophistication. He was gorgeous, a powerful and masculine work of art. He was out of her league, though—way out. She had already had a taste of how he would treat her. If this was what he was like when he was keen, what would he be like when her attraction had faded? Pride and her usual common sense began to reassert its sway.
‘It wouldn’t work…it didn’t start out right,’ she muttered tightly
Sardonic amusement lightened his lean bronzed features. ‘Is that the problem? You imagine I might think less of you for matching my passion?’
Maddie shot him an unconvinced glance. ‘You don’t? You mean, you treat all women this way?’
Stung on the raw, Giannis dealt her a fulminating appraisal
But it was wasted on Maddie, who had just realised what time it was and groaned in dismay. ‘Oh, my goodness. I’m going to be late for work!’
‘Work?’ Giannis repeated. ‘You work at the weekend as well?’
‘Yes.’ Snatching up her bag and her overall, Maddie hauled open the door. ‘I have to go,’ she told him feverishly.
Giannis strode out on to the landing and watched her lock up. ‘Where do you work?’
‘In the supermarket down the road.’ Maddie hurried down the stairs at a rattling pace.
‘When do you finish?’
Out on the street, Maddie focused wide-eyed on the opulent black limousine with its tinted windows, and on the number of well-dressed men wearing sunglasses hovering watchfully in its vicinity. The instant Giannis appeared behind her all the men went on visible alert. He was protected everywhere he went. He did not live anything like a normal life. They might as well have been creatures from a different planet, she acknowledged painfully.
‘Madeleine?’ Giannis prompted drily.
‘Six—but what’s that got to do with anything?’ A rueful laugh fell from her lips. ‘Guys like you don’t date shopgirls!’
An hour after she started work the flowers arrived. A glorious bouquet of old-fashioned buttery yellow and cream roses was brought to her. Nobody had ever sent her flowers before, and at first she thought there had been a mistake. The sight of her own name on the gift envelope convinced her, however, and she opened the card.
Personally selected and delivered. See you at six, Giannis.
She laughed at that first assurance, and then her face fell. Even had she been tempted she wasn’t free this evening. But he didn’t quit, and she had always admired that in a man. She thought of what he had done for her dying sister and reminded herself that Giannis Petrakos was very far from being all bad. And she was as much to blame as him for their sexual encounter. Was he right? Was she just angry with him because he hadn’t got in touch sooner? She was being torn in two by conflicting promptings, and she felt horribly confused and out of her depth. His arrogance still infuriated her, and she could not shake free of her guilt at having slept with him. Furthermore he was not trying to conceal the fact that only sexual desire drove his continued interest. That was no basis for a relationship—at least not the kind she wanted and needed. So why was she still tempted by him? Why did the gesture of the roses delight her so much?
Half an hour after she got home, Giannis called back for her.
‘I never even asked you how you got my address,’ she muttered awkwardly, drinking in the sight of his lean bronzed features with strained green eyes.
‘Such information is always available for a favour or a price.’
To Maddie, that was yet another unsavoury glimpse of a world and a way of thought foreign to her principles. ‘Look, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t see you tonight,’ she told him hurriedly, keen to bring the conversation to a swift conclusion.
‘How so?’ he incised, level dark golden eyes pinned to her with questioning force.
There was no apology in Maddie’s quiet voice as she explained that she had agreed to sit with her elderly neighbour so that the lady’s daughter, who looked after her mother full-time, could enjoy a rare evening out.
‘How praiseworthy, glikia mou.’ A wry smile of approval curved his wide stubborn mouth. ‘Naturally I’ll organise a qualified carer to stand in for you.’
‘No, you can’t do that. I never said I would see you tonight, and even if I did want to—which I don’t—I wouldn’t consider letting my friends down at the last minute,’ Maddie declared, her chin coming up at a pugnacious angle because she was indignant at his assumption that she would rearrange her life and her responsibilities to suit him.
But she was even more appalled by her spasm of disappointment that it was not possible for her to consider his offer of providing another companion for her neighbour. She no longer knew what she wanted any more.
Giannis released his breath in a slow, sardonic exhalation. ‘Why do you make such a fuss about trivia?’
Maddie was very tense. ‘When I make a promise to someone it’s not trivial. Mrs Evans would be upset if she was left with a stranger. You are being selfish.’
‘Do not insult me again. I will not tolerate it!’ the tall, powerful Greek interposed, with cold, cutting emphasis.
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‘Between the sheets we’re dynamite.’
A red-hot blush crept up her slender throat and she could not trust herself to look at him. ‘You’ll have to leave. I have to go down to Mrs Evans.’
‘Is this a joke? Or are you wondering how far you can push me?’ Giannis demanded with hauteur. ‘I leave London again tomorrow.’
Reluctantly she lifted her head again, and collided with hot, dark golden eyes that made her tummy lurch as if she had gone down in a lift too fast. ‘It’s not a joke.’
With languorous cool he let his fingers feather through her long, rippling coppery curls. The faint brush of his fingertips against her taut temples sent a quiver through her, and a feeling of sensual paralysis swallowed up all her good intentions. He brought his darkly handsome head down, and her hand seemed to rise of its own volition to glance across one smooth olive cheek and move into the luxuriant thickness of his black hair. It was all the encouragement he needed. He took her mouth in a storm of passionate hunger and pinned her back against the wall with his lithe, powerful body.
‘So what’s this?’ he enquired lethally.
‘Madness,’ she mumbled, stretching up on tiptoe to find the heat and hardness of his mouth again in a fruitless attempt to assuage the painful ache low in her belly.
He sank his hands below her curvaceous behind and lifted her, cradling her easily on his lap as he seated himself on the bed. ‘How long have you got?’ he intoned thickly.
She felt surrounded and controlled by him, and it was incredibly sexy. Her bra was tight over her full breasts, the tender nipples swollen and sensitive. While her body felt weak, her heart was racing with anticipation. She pressed her hot brow against a broad shoulder and wondered frantically what was happening to her. She fought to rescue her self-control. Giannis would take her back to bed if she allowed him to. Was she really that besotted with him?
Maddie was shaken by that inner question, and in a sudden movement of denial scrambled off his long, lean thighs with more haste than grace. ‘We mustn’t…No, absolutely not. Not unless we get to know each other better…’ Her voice petered out as a wave of giddiness momentarily left her head swimming.
Giannis sprang upright in an equally abrupt movement, and swung away to stand by the window. He was fully aroused, hotter than hot. Rampant sexual frustration laced the raw sense of disbelief that held him taut. He was not accustomed to suffering that particular discomfort. He could not remember when a woman had last said no to him. The intensity of his desire for her infuriated him. And now she was laying down pre-conditions. Unexpectedly, the fresh taste of that challenge stimulated him. She had backbone and standards. He liked that.
Maddie braced her hand on the table to steady herself. Raw panic threatened to eat her alive because she had never felt so dizzy before. Dizziness was not something she suffered from, so what was causing it? Oh, dear heaven—was it possible that she could be pregnant? How likely was it that she would get symptoms so soon? She scolded herself for overreacting, but the fear she had kept below the surface of her mind for the past few days was now out in the open. Unfortunately it would be another week before she could put that fear to rest.
‘I’ll be in Morocco mid-week. I have a house in the High Atlas mountains. It’s very private and peaceful,’ Giannis advanced levelly. ‘Why don’t you let me fly you out to join me for a couple of days?’
‘Morocco?’ Maddie was astonished by the invitation.
‘You said you wanted to get to know me, glikia mou.’ Giannis drawled, honey-soft. ‘It would be the perfect opportunity.’
In a decisive movement he set down his personal card on the table. ‘The number of my mobile phone—should you want to contact me.’
CHAPTER FOUR
AS THE helicopter rose in the air at Marrakech-Menara airport, Maddie closed her eyes tight. Unfortunately that exercise made her feel dizzier than ever, and she lifted her lashes and stared woodenly ahead while she prayed that the last leg of her journey would be brief. Maybe she had a problem with her balance? Or perhaps she wasn’t eating sensibly enough? It would be paranoid for her to assume that she was in the early stages of pregnancy. She reminded herself that in just a couple of days she would be able to stop worrying, because she had very regular menstrual cycle.
Maddie had flown out from London first thing that morning. It was now after midday, and hot. The long-sleeved shirt and cotton trousers she had worn to travel were sticking to her damp skin. The cloudless sky was a glorious deep lilac-blue. In a covert movement she pinched her thigh, in the hope that the tiny pain would help her to believe that she had indeed come to Morocco as the personal guest of a Greek billionaire. So far nothing about the trip had felt real, since it bore no resemblance to her only previous venture abroad—a package tour to Spain with her grandmother.
On this occasion, however, Maddie was travelling in amazing style and comfort. Collected from her bedsit by Nemos, she had been the sole passenger on a private jet with a crew who had been almost embarrassingly eager to ensure that she enjoyed the flight. Having watched a terrific film, she had browsed through the morning papers and enjoyed an appetising breakfast while being waited on hand and foot. On landing she had been whisked through official channels at wondrous speed and escorted to a helipad.
Now the helicopter landed, and the merciless ear-battering whine of the propellers finally stilled. Nemos helped Maddie out with care. Initially engaged in adjusting to walking a straight line on solid ground again, she was unprepared for her first sight of the imposing building in front of her. Its sheer size made her stop dead. Soaring ochre walls decorated with geometric patterns were further embellished with slender tapering towers at each corner. Her eyes were wide with astonishment.
‘It looks like a Moorish palace.’
‘It did once belong to the Caid of the Jerid Valley,’ the older man replied. ‘But it was a ruin when Mr Petrakos bought it.’
‘It’s amazing. He must come here a lot.’
‘The boss owns a lot of property. It’s been a while since he was here.’
In the entrance hall, a jade-coloured fountain was playing down into a pool patterned with mosaics. The water was scattered with rose petals. Nemos introduced her to a Berber manservant, Hamid, who appeared to command a very large staff. He addressed her in French. It was a huge building, designed round a central courtyard ornamented with date palms and flowering vines in a lush tangle of greenery. The interior of the house was cool and opulent and impossibly chic. Ancient carved doors, delicate fretwork wooden screens and painted ceilings provided a backdrop for stylish furniture and extravagant comfort. Shown upstairs by two maids, Maddie walked through double doors set in an arch in the shape of a keyhole, and was immediately convinced that she had been transported into the land of an Arabian Nights fantasy.
Across the vast room a sumptuous bed festooned with gold drapes and tassels sat on a dais. ‘My word…’ Maddie whispered in wonderment.
With a youthful air of showmanship, one of the pretty dark-eyed maids tugged back the Indian silk drapes and cast open the tall French windows. A roof terrace stretched beyond, but it was the utterly breathtaking view of a fertile green valley ringed by snow-capped mountains that captivated Maddie. A silver basin was placed for her to wash her hands, and mint tea was served in a dainty glass cup before a light meal was brought.
Maddie wondered nervously when Giannis would arrive. Catching a glimpse of her creased and travel-weary appearance in the mirror above the beautiful mother-of-pearl inlaid chest of drawers, she winced. In the equally large adjoining bathroom, the maid was already running water into a luxurious sunken bath. While she scattered fragrant crystals on the surface, her companion laid out a mountain of snowy white towels. When everything was ready for her, Maddie thanked the girls in her rusty schoolgirl French and closed the door to undress. First she went into the steam shower, where she took a while to get acquainted with the elaborate technology before she could comfortably wash her hair. Then, her wet hair piled on top of her head, she sank into the bath and tried to relax.
In truth, she was as tense as a drawn knife. She did not quite know what had brought her to Morocco. The fact that Giannis had offered her the chance to get to know him just as she had asked? That it would have been downright contrary to refuse such an offer? Or had her decision been influenced by the fear that she might be pregnant? Was that what was making her feel so connected to him? Or was she just lying to herself and making silly excuses in a forlorn effort to avoid facing the embarrassing truth?
From the moment she had seen Giannis Petrakos in his office she had been virtually obsessed by him. The fact that he had once been the unwitting target of her adolescent crush had made her even more susceptible to his vibrant, dark good looks. She had fallen into bed with him because she could not resist him, and she was in Morocco for the same reason. There, she reflected heavily, she was finally being honest with herself. Only being honest made her feel infinitely more vulnerable.
What did she have in common with a guy who owned a palace in Morocco that he rarely visited? Evidently he had as many options in property as he must surely have with women. Where did she fit in? For the first time she was curious about her predecessors. What sort of women did Giannis get involved with? Was she typical? Suddenly she wished she could afford to buy the kind of magazines which featured photos and features on the lifestyles of the very rich. But, curious though she was, she knew that she would not be buying any such publications in the near future. She had taken three days out from working and earning—a decision that would ensure she was living right on the breadline for the next month.
When Maddie emerged from the bathroom in a towel, she was ushered into yet another connecting room, where a smiling English-speaking beautician and her assistant were waiting to offer a bewildering range of treatments. Disconcerted by the situation, Maddie agreed to have a massage because she really didn’t know how to keep on saying no without causing offence. Fragrant rose-scented oils were rubbed into her skin in what ultimately proved to be a wonderfully relaxing experience. She then allowed the talented duo to style her hair and do her nails. Afterwards, she felt amazingly sleepy. Although she could not find her case, a gossamer-light turquoise silk kaftan was draped on the bed. Too weary to go looking for her clothes, she put it on and lay down for a nap.
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