The Greek's Blackmailed Wife

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘I’ve been longing to do this for two weeks,’ he groaned, shifting her body so that she was virtually lying underneath him. ‘Every time I turned round you were standing there in your perfect suit with your hair up—’

  His breathing decidedly unsteady, he kissed her neck, finding that sensitive spot just behind her ear, and then worked his way back to her mouth, the erotic invasion so explicitly sexual that Lauranne sank her hands into his glossy dark hair, frantic to maintain the contact.

  ‘I wanted you too—’ She gasped the words against his seeking mouth and he kissed her as though it was to be their last kiss, their last contact as man and woman, and she matched his desperation, tongue for tongue, bite for bite, in an undisciplined mating that was totally out of control.

  ‘Anni—’ The intimate version of her name transported her back in time to the heat of a Caribbean beach in the moonlight.

  Her fingers wrenched at his shirt, losing buttons in her frantic haste to be closer to him. And then finally his shirt was open and she slid her hands over his sleek, bronze flesh, shivering in a purely feminine response to his masculine strength.

  She whimpered his name and he licked into her mouth, stealing the words, her breath and her will-power.

  She felt the thrust of his body against hers, the thickness of his erection pressing through the fabric of his trousers and she lifted against him, instinctively drawing closer to his masculine heat.

  A ferocious need engulfed her and it was only when he dragged his mouth away from hers and muttered something in Greek that she realised that they were close to making love in the back of his car.

  His eyes fierce with passion, he gazed down at her, his breathing unsteady. ‘Theos mou, I don’t know myself with you,’ he groaned. ‘I start off wanting to punish you and end up punishing myself.’

  Punish her?

  He wanted to punish her?

  Utterly disorientated, she stared up at him dizzily, looking first at the dark curls that shadowed his muscular chest and then at the streaks of colour that touched his hard cheekbones. Her whole body throbbed with unfulfilled need, ached with a desire so powerful that she had to struggle not to grab him again and beg him to make love to her. For a brief moment she wondered where he’d found the will-power to stop. But he had. And his cool-headed ability to end the contact between them with so little effort suddenly quenched her own frantic response.

  Gradually the harsh reality of what they’d done—what she’d done—intruded on her sex-induced stupor.

  She pushed at his broad chest and he shifted, something unfamiliar blazing in his eyes as he looked at her. It occurred to her that he certainly didn’t look cool.

  ‘We shouldn’t have done that.’ Lauranne scooted away from him, shredded by humiliation, her cheeks flaming red as she tugged her skirt down over her exposed thighs. ‘I-it was a mistake.’

  ‘I agree. My car is not the place,’ he said savagely, raking long fingers through sleek dark hair in a very obvious effort to regain control. ‘Let’s end this farce and go back to my hotel.’

  His intention was quite explicit and she shook her head.

  ‘No!’ Her lips were swollen and tingling from the heat of his kiss, every secret corner of her body awakened by his touch. ‘It’s not the car. It’s you. Me. It isn’t what I want.’

  He sucked in a breath, still visibly aroused and battling with his baser instincts.

  ‘Not what you want?’ As he registered her words he shot her an incredulous look. ‘So what was that all about? You were ripping my clothes off in case I caught a chill?’

  Breathtakingly aware of his bare chest still within touching distance, she forced herself to look away. Forced herself to resist temptation—

  ‘Of course not—’ she was too shocked by her own fevered response to be anything but honest with him ‘—but it isn’t right, Zander, and you know it.’

  He frowned. ‘It was totally right. It was what we both want and if I hadn’t called a halt then we would now be making love on the back seat of my car.’

  His less-than-subtle reminder that it had been him that had stopped it made her want to sink into a dark hole. She was just so vulnerable to him and she hated herself for it. Hated herself for her lack of control.

  She looked at him and then wished she hadn’t as her eyes homed in greedily on his sexy mouth and the darkness of his very masculine jaw. If ever a man had been designed to tempt a woman it was Zander Volakis.

  Maybe she needed to face the fact that she’d never be immune to him.

  ‘All right. It was you that called a halt,’ she admitted bravely, ‘but there’s more to a relationship than sex. We’re opposites, Zander.’

  ‘And opposites attract,’ he said dryly, ‘as we seem to prove every time we meet.’

  ‘They also make each other’s lives miserable,’ she pointed out with a humourless laugh. ‘We’re too different.’

  ‘Differences are good. It’s the differences that make our relationship so exciting, agape mou.’ He lounged back in his seat, totally relaxed, the expression in his eyes shielded by thick, dark lashes. ‘You’re totally unpredictable and you always surprise me. And I look forward to being surprised again and again.’

  ‘No!’ She said the word to herself as much as him, trying to remind herself of the havoc that this man had created in her life and in her heart. ‘Do you really think I’d sleep with you after everything that’s happened?’

  ‘Why not?’ He lifted broad shoulders in a casual shrug. ‘We’re both consenting adults and we share a powerful attraction. I’ve already told you that I’m willing to forget the past. Why shouldn’t you?’

  ‘Because our marriage is over!’

  He smiled, maddeningly unperturbed by her passionate outburst. ‘Stop changing the subject.’

  ‘I hated you—’

  ‘And I hated you back.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘So stop this car and let me out. While we’re both still relatively sane.’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘I think sanity deserted us both that night we met on the beach.’

  ‘We should never have married—’ She muttered the words, wanting him to deny them but knowing that he wouldn’t. Zander had been involved with some of the most beautiful women in the world. Why had she ever expected him to stay faithful to her?

  ‘But we did.’ His eyes glittered and she closed her eyes, a vision of being Zander’s lover exploding inside her brain with a vividness that was as disconcerting as it was unwelcome.

  ‘Our relationship was a disaster.’

  ‘Our relationship was fine until you slept with Farrer.’

  She flinched. ‘I did not sleep with Tom!’

  ‘You were in bed together.’

  She looked at him in outrage, wondering how he had the nerve to accuse her of being unfaithful when he’d been the one sleeping with another woman.

  ‘It’s true that I kissed him,’ she confessed finally, ‘but we never slept together. We’ve only ever been friends. I kissed him because I wanted to hurt you the way you’d hurt me.’

  There was a loaded silence and when he finally spoke his voice was cold. ‘Why did you want to hurt me?’

  Because she’d expected fidelity and what she’d been given was betrayal.

  This was the time to tell him what she’d seen. To tell him why she’d rushed to Tom. To tell him just how much he’d hurt her.

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again. What was the point? It was all five years too late.

  ‘It doesn’t matter now,’ she said wearily. ‘But for the record, I never had an affair with Tom. And it was me that kissed him, not the other way round. I wanted you to think it was something more.’

  His eyes hardened. ‘You were in each other’s arms.’

  ‘We were friends. I was upset. He was comforting me.’

  ‘We were lovers,’ Zander shot back relentlessly, his mouth set in a grim line. ‘If you needed comfort then I should have been the one comf
orting you.’

  But he’d been the cause of her distress. But she’d never once confronted him with his infidelity. And after that ghastly moment when he’d walked in on her and Tom her whole life had unravelled with alarming speed.

  ‘There is nothing between Tom and I.’

  For Tom’s sake, she wanted to get that straight. The rest of it didn’t matter any more.

  ‘The guy is in love with you.’ It was a statement of fact, delivered without a shred of emotion, and Lauranne shook her head.

  ‘You’re so wrong.’

  Maybe Tom had been a little bit in love with her at one time, but there had never been anything between them.

  Zander stared back at her, lean fingers tapping rhythmically on his muscular thigh. ‘I used to notice him watching you.’ His tone was conversational but something in his eyes stopped the breath in her lungs. ‘If you hadn’t been so fond of him I would have blacked his eye eight weeks earlier.’

  Her heart was thumping so hard she was aware of every beat. ‘You’re an animal—’

  ‘You were mine.’

  For endless seconds they stared at each other and Lauranne felt a treacherous warmth spread through her veins. What was wrong with her? His possessive statement felt good when it should have felt bad, the sheer force of his personality melting a resolve that should have been as hard as steel.

  ‘I was never yours.’

  ‘No?’ His voice was barely audible and she gazed at him, hypnotised by the look in his eyes. ‘When we ran hand in hand across the sandy beach to find somewhere secluded just so that we could laugh and talk about everything in private, were you mine then?’

  It was as if he’d pressed her face against a mirror, reflecting her own thoughts and memories in glorious Technicolor.

  She swallowed. ‘Zander—’

  ‘Or when we shared a romantic dinner of lobster and wine on my terrace, both so hot for each other that we could barely eat. Were you mine then?’

  She opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  ‘Or that first night we came together as a man and a woman,’ he said hoarsely, leaning towards her as he spoke, ‘you wound your arms round my neck and told me that you trusted me. And when I finally thrust inside you, you sobbed my name, Anni. My name. Were you mine then?’

  She’d thought she was.

  Dear God, she’d wanted to be…

  Lauranne bit her lip, still not trusting herself to speak.

  It had been so unbelievably good—

  ‘Which brings me back to my original question,’ he said, relentless in his pursuit of an answer, ‘which was why you turned to Tom instead of me.’

  Finally she found her voice. ‘Because you were the problem.’ Her blue eyes flashed with reproach and accusation. How dared he be so self-righteous when he’d been the one in the wrong? ‘Because you are just so Greek. You talk about fidelity but you know nothing about fidelity yourself and you certainly don’t understand women. Why do you think I married you?’

  ‘Unlimited access to my credit card?’

  She stared at him, stunned into silence by his cynical assessment of their doomed marriage. ‘You think I married you for your money?’

  He shrugged. ‘Why else?’

  Because she’d loved him. She’d loved him so much that the emotion had completely overwhelmed her.

  But he’d never loved her. And she’d always known that, but at the time she’d thought that she loved him enough to compensate.

  She’d been wrong.

  Matching his careless attitude, she stuck her chin in the air. ‘Just for the record I’m going to tell you one more time that I did not sleep with Tom!’

  ‘And just for the record I’m going to tell you one more time that I don’t believe you.’

  ‘And I don’t even care any more,’ she shot back. ‘It’s history. And you and I are history. The gap between us is so wide that even a ferry couldn’t cross it. And now let me out of this car. After tonight I never want to see you again.’

  She thumped on the window that separated them from the driver and he pulled over instantly. Knowing that even the slightest hesitation would be disastrous, Lauranne was out of the door while the car was still moving. She heard Zander swear softly in Greek, registered that he tried to stop her, but hit the pavement running and vanished into the crowd.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ZANDER paced the floor of his hotel suite, simmering with barely contained frustration as he tried to unravel the mysteries of female conversation.

  What the hell had Lauranne meant by telling him that he didn’t understand women?

  He understood women perfectly.

  Or, rather, he understood most women, he admitted, grinding his teeth together as he turned and paced back again. The problem was that Lauranne was definitely not most women.

  What exactly had she meant about that comment that he was ‘so Greek’? Of course he was Greek!

  And why had she made that wildly passionate remark about wanting to hurt him and him not understanding fidelity when it had been her infidelity that had ultimately pushed them apart?

  Zander poured himself a large whiskey and stared out of the huge glass windows that afforded him a perfect view of London. An ominous frown darkened his sharply drawn features as he pondered the facts.

  Finding her with Farrer had induced a jealousy so ferocious in its intensity that he hadn’t stopped to question what he’d seen. He hadn’t thought it needed questioning. Until this evening.

  He downed the whiskey in one mouthful, forcing himself to confront the unpalatable possibility that he’d overreacted and misjudged the situation.

  For a man who prided himself on his ability to make rational, unemotional decisions, acknowledging the degree of emotion he’d employed in ending his relationship with Lauranne left him feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

  Her remark about needing comfort still hovered in his mind, refusing to go away.

  Why had she needed comfort? She’d been in a hotly passionate relationship with him. The fact that she might have turned to another man for comfort angered him as much as the concept that she might have had an affair.

  Zander ground his teeth with frustration, feeling as though he were confronted by a giant, complex jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing and no clue as to the final picture.

  ‘Why do you think I married you?’

  He stared thoughtfully into the empty glass, unable to ignore the fact that Lauranne had never shown any interest in money or possessions. On the few occasions he’d wanted to buy her something she’d refused to let him and he’d dismissed her reluctance to spend his money as another example of her stubborn nature. All the other women in his acquaintance had made spending an art form. Only Lauranne had shown absolutely no interest in his money.

  But then Lauranne was cleverer than most women.

  Had their marriage lasted longer then she doubtless would have shopped till she dropped. Didn’t they all?

  But in the five years they’d been apart she’d never asked him for a penny. Instead she’d turned to Farrer.

  He gritted his teeth.

  And she expected him to believe that she hadn’t slept with the guy?

  He was still dealing with the knowledge that another man had been financially responsible for his wife when there was a tap on the door.

  A thrill of anticipation ran through his veins and he was across the room in seconds, opening the door with a surge of anticipation, the smile instantly wiped from his face when he saw his lawyer standing there.

  ‘You’re frowning. Who were you expecting?’ Alec stepped into the room, every inch the sharp lawyer, briefcase clasped in his right hand.

  ‘No one.’

  Shocked by the depths of his disappointment, Zander frowned in irritation. Why had he thought it might be her? She was on the run and there was no way she was going to turn up at his hotel room. That wasn’t Lauranne’s style. Far be it from her to make it easy for him.

&nbs
p; He gritted his teeth and reflected that her stubborn resistance to the powerful attraction they shared was as infuriating as it was stimulating and that if it didn’t end soon he was going to have to start conducting business meetings from a cold shower.

  Alec placed his briefcase down on the table and flicked open the catches. ‘Well, you were right. As usual. The old guy has agreed to a meeting.’ He shook his head, admiration clearly visible in his expression. ‘How do you do it? He’s said no for nine months. How did you know that tonight he’d say yes?’

  ‘Instinct.’ Zander put his empty glass down and Alec smiled.

  ‘Well, it’s an instinct that’s made you billions. And all that press coverage obviously worked.’ Alec didn’t try and hide his delight and satisfaction at the result. ‘He said that for the first time he had a sense of who you really are.’

  Zander almost laughed at the irony. Theo Kouropoulos had absolutely no idea who he was.

  ‘There’s just one slight complication that we hadn’t anticipated—’ Alec rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and Zander frowned.

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘He wants you to stay for ten days, to get a feel for the island and the business.’ Alec swallowed. ‘And he wants you to bring your—er—your wife.’

  There was a long silence while Zander looked at him thoughtfully and Alec carried on briskly. ‘Obviously that’s out of the question so—’

  ‘Why is it out of the question?’

  Alec gaped at him. ‘Well, obviously, since you can’t be in a room for five minutes without killing each other, I assumed that ten days would be an insurmountable challenge.’

  ‘I thrive on challenge,’ Zander drawled. ‘I accept his invitation and ten days is fine.’ And if he had his way she wouldn’t be leaving the bed for any of that time. ‘You can tell Kouropoulos that we look forward to seeing him for dinner tomorrow night.’