The Greek's Virgin Captive_She was wrong for him in every way but one...

by Clare Connelly

  “Oh,” she whispered, her eyes huge in her face.

  “Oh?” He repeated, stepping out of his jeans and grabbing a condom from the back pocket before discarding his denims in the sand.

  “You’re so…” she swallowed, looking away, and in the moonlight, he could just make out the pink of her cheeks. Her naivete was enchanting.

  “Don’t be nervous,” he said throatily, dropping to the sand and bringing his body over hers. He placed a soft kiss against her lips, but she groaned, deepening it, her tongue dueling with his, her fingers lacing together behind his head and then roaming down his back. She lifted her legs, trying to draw him towards her but he pulled away with a thick, urgent laugh.

  “Wait, agape,” he cautioned, smiling as he tore open the condom wrapper and slid it over his arousal.

  “God, condom,” she groaned, flopping back on the sand. “I completely forgot…”

  “It’s not your job to remember,” he said.

  “Well, that’s a great excuse and all, but I don’t think it would offer much comfort if I got pregnant.”

  She pulled a face of complete panic and he couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I’m a little offended.”

  She grimaced. “Don’t be. I just meant…”

  “I know what you meant.” He pecked a kiss to her forehead and then brought his body over hers, moving his lips to hers and taking possession of her mouth with a singular determination. She whimpered, and he smiled into the kiss, then slowly, gently, he separated her legs, running himself against her womanhood carefully, letting her brace for his intrusion.

  She made a sound of impatience and arched her back so he smiled once more, and then, with the kind of reverence he should have damned well observed earlier that same day, he glided into her beautiful warmth, hissing at the perfection of her muscles squeezing him, groaning as her body, so tight and wet, welcomed him.

  There was no barrier this time, but her muscles gripped him like a vice. It took every ounce of his self-control not to spill himself into her already.

  He stayed still, allowing himself to adjust to her perfect welcome, allowing her to become used to his size, and then he moved, watching her with every thrust and roll of his hips, watching as her face grew fevered and her eyes large, and then, as her cheeks filled with pink and her breath became rushed, and then, when he felt her muscles tense around his length and he knew she was about to burst apart, he kissed her again, slowly, tasting the euphoria that burst through her.

  He made love to her under the stars, and he held her body close, and he remembered his own missive:

  They were just pretending. For one night, that was all. This was an act—

  and it was also a perfect, fated truism.

  CHAPTER NINE

  IT MADE SENSE FOR him to do it, but as he re-read the article for the third time since depositing a sleeping Eleanor into her bed, he felt a bolt of disgust.

  This woman had destroyed his father’s reputation – such as it was. But more importantly, she’d lied to him! The whole time they’d been together, she’d been making notes of every conversation they shared. The conversations they’d had in private, late at night, lounging in his apartment, with no one else to hear his confessions, she’d made notes on all of them! And the more salacious of his revelations had ended up in the damned article.

  So what if she hadn’t written it? Her conscience had eventually asserted itself but it had been too little, too late. He’d sworn he’d never see her again, and that if he did, he wouldn’t touch her with a ten foot bargepole. So what the hell had just happened?

  He swept his eyes shut, and he saw only Eleanor. Eleanor as she’d been on the beach, all mussed and resplendent.

  And he felt her, too. Felt the soft perfection of her body, the sweetness of her kisses.

  Hell, he was playing with fire and he should have known better than that. Last time should have been ample warning. He pushed his chair back, standing abruptly, and stalking towards his room. He’d done it now – they’d slept together.

  So what?

  It was just sex, just like he’d said. He’d given her a memorable first time and now he could return to his original plan, couldn’t he?

  Sex. Sex with Eleanor until she was out of his system once and for all. And then, he’d send her away, and forget she ever existed. He wasn’t idiot enough to think that would be easy – but he wasn’t dumb enough to forget that it was vital. And so he would do it, no matter what.

  *

  She woke in her own bed, and she woke alone, so for a few confusing seconds, it was easy to believe it had all been a dream. It was easy to think the night hadn’t happened, that they hadn’t made love for hours, against the backdrop of the sea and the night sky.

  But she couldn’t remember what had happened next. She’d become tired and had fallen asleep? Yes, she remembered trying to stay awake and her eyes being simply too heavy, and she remembered the way he’d been watching her and the ocean had been rolling in and everything had been so like a fairytale that she was certain she’d fallen asleep with a ridiculous smile on her lips.

  She lifted her fingertips to them now, looking around her room for evidence of Apollo.

  There was none, and her side of the bed was the only side that had been disturbed. He hadn’t slept with her. Had he carried her in here? She looked beneath the blankets – she was naked.

  Colour heated her cheeks, and pleasure swiftly followed. She stretched her arms over her head and her whole body reacted. Muscles that had never been used made little winces of complaint; she was sensitive all over. Her breasts particularly so – the cotton of the sheet was a sensual torture, rubbing over her skin.

  She smiled, kicking the sheet back and stepping out of bed. It was another perfect day, but it wouldn’t have mattered to Eleanor if it had been raining cats and dogs.

  How could she feel anything but blissed and on cloud nine when they’d shared such an incredible night?

  He’d said her first time should be special – was there anything more special than what they’d done? Every detail had been perfect.

  But where was he? Her body was waking up, and with each step she took, she wanted him more and more. She pulled on the first thing she saw – one of the bikinis he’d bought for her – and then grabbed a simple lemon yellow kaftan for good measure. But she was too impatient; she simply pulled it over her head as she walked, moving towards the kitchen quickly.

  Carlotta was there, carrying some groceries in a cardboard box.

  “Good morning,” Eleanor greeted, shy suddenly.

  “Ah, good morning. You look well.” Carlotta smiled warmly. “Are you going for a swim?”

  Eleanor frowned, belatedly remembering the bathers she’d donned only a little earlier. “Oh, um, yes, I thought I might. Is Apollo in his office?”

  “Mr Heranedes is in Athens for the day,” Carlotta said, with no idea the statement was anything more than a simple answer to a question.

  “Oh.” Disappointment burst through her. “Just for the day?”

  Carlotta shifted her shoulders. “He says so, but Mr Heranedes often stays longer than he means. I am here, though. Do you need anything?”

  “No, no,” she smiled, but it was brittle on her face. “I’ll just… go for a swim.”

  “You put some cream on your skin? You’re not used to our sun.”

  She blinked and nodded, but slipped out of the house before she could do any such thing. Oh, it was a good suggestion, but Eleanor wanted to be alone to make sense of this, and that instinct overrode all other concerns. Worries were knotting her stomach.

  He’d gone to Athens the day after they’d slept together? Without so much as a word or note of farewell? She grimaced, striding towards the beach, at first, needing to see evidence of what they’d shared. As though the sight of the blanket and burned-down candles might reassure her – might remind her that it had been real and amazing and that she had every reason to smile and be happy.

 
; But it had all been cleared away; there was no physical trace of what they’d shared the night before.

  With a soft exhalation, she turned away from the beach, moving to the pool instead. She’d not had any intention of swimming initially, but diving into the water, she had to admit that it felt good. She strode across the pool several times, tapping the end, turning under water and kicking back to the original side. She swam until her limbs were tired and her breath was burning, and finally, she stopped with the laps and simply floated, on her back, staring up at the sunlit sky, doing her best not to think of Apollo.

  Pushing him from her mind meant drawing something else into it, and of course it was Elizabeth and Joshua that filled the gap. She would have been due to arrive back in London today, and Elizabeth would be counting on that.

  She’d panic if Eleanor simply didn’t arrive. Worse, she’d worry.

  Eleanor climbed out of the pool with alacrity, as though a bull-nose shark had leaped into the water with her, realizing belatedly that she hadn’t thought to bring a towel. No matter. She pulled her kaftan on and moved towards the terrace. Standing at the entrance to the kitchen, she called out, “Carlotta?”

  A moment later, footsteps heralded the arrival of the housekeeper.

  “I forgot a towel,” she smiled apologetically.

  “I’ll get you one.”

  “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant. I need to make a call but I don’t have my mobile. Is there a phone in the study?”

  “Oh.” Carlotta’s eyes slid to the left and then back to Eleanor’s. Her expression was noticeably awkward. “There is, of course.”

  “Great,” Eleanor relaxed.

  “Only Mr Heranedes … locks the office when he is not here.”

  Eleanor lifted a brow, skepticism only natural. “Does he now?”

  She’d just bet he didn’t routinely lock it at all, if the housekeeper’s expression was anything to go by. Far more likely that he had locked it expressly to prevent Eleanor having access. Not just to his phone, but to papers which he apparently thought she might snoop through. Ditto his computer.

  “The call is quite urgent, Carlotta,” Eleanor continued, giving the housekeeper no indication of how offended she was. “Do you have a phone I might use?”

  The housekeeper didn’t meet Eleanor’s eyes. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

  Another lie.

  Eleanor snapped her teeth together. “I presume you can contact Mr Heranedes if there’s an emergency?”

  Carlotta didn’t answer and, taking pity on the housekeeper – who was not at fault for any of this – Eleanor sent her a smile of understanding. “Don’t worry about it. But when Apollo gets home, can you please tell him I need to see him right away?”

  “Of course,” there was both gratitude and apology in the housekeeper’s response. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Eleanor smile ruefully, and shook her head. But the smile dropped as soon as she went outside. Anything else she needed? How about her freedom! How about an explanation! How about Apollo?

  By the time he returned that evening, Eleanor’s temper was stretched thin.

  He strode into the villa, looking to all the world like the billionaire tycoon he was. A dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt, polished brown shoes, aviator sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt, green eyes mesmerizing.

  Oh, for goodness sake, she snapped at her inner-self. Now wasn’t the time to be appreciating the details of his very delicious appearance.

  She stood from where she’d been reading a book, on one of the luxurious white leather sofas in the lounge, and stalked towards him. “Apollo.” She could barely meet his eyes, so enraged was her temper. “I need to make a phone call.”

  His frown was infinitesimal. He placed the slender leather document wallet he carried onto a side table and crossed the distance between them. “Hello to you too.”

  She did look at him then, recrimination and hurt in her eyes. “I need to make a phone call and you’ve apparently given Carlotta instructions to forbid that…”

  “Yes,” he said, shrugging, as though it didn’t matter.

  Eleanor had, she realized then, been hoping for a denial. She’d been hoping for him to shake his head, and say that of course he hadn’t. That it had been a misunderstanding and she could use the phone whenever she wanted. His bland agreement with her assessment cut her to the quick. “How dare you?”

  His expression was carefully blanked of emotion. “I’ve told you, there’s no one you need to contact.”

  “Because you say so?”

  “Because I don’t want anyone to know that you’re here,” he returned, walking away from her, back to the front door. He grabbed up the document wallet and crossed back to her, removing several sheets of crisp white paper as he walked across the room. “To that end, I have this paperwork for you to sign.”

  She looked at him, bemusedly, for a moment, and then dropped her gaze to the paper. Documents. A contract! With a frown, and fingers that were unsteady, she reached out and took it.

  A non-disclosure agreement?

  She had signed a few of these in her time, usually related to her employment. But never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined being asked to sign one by a man she’d just slept with.

  She looked at him, and saw only a hard, businesslike mask on his face. There was no sympathy nor apology there, just ice-cold determination.

  “I’ve back-dated it to the day you arrived. No one can know you were here – or in Ras el Kida, ideally. Not your sister, not your friends, definitely not your agent.”

  She gaped at him, and then blinked back at the page.

  “Needless to say, this covers all aspects of your time here. Any interaction between us, physical or otherwise, is covered by this NDA.”

  Eleanor swept her eyes shut, pain lurching through her. “Who do you think I’d tell?”

  “That’s the problem, Eleanor. I don’t know. The world? Given half a chance?”

  She swallowed, her throat moving convulsively as she tried – and failed – to bring moisture back to her desert-dry mouth. “I have no plans on telling anyone that I’ve been kidnapped by you, Apollo.”

  “It would make a great headline, though.”

  “Stop it.” She stood up then, and passed the contract back to him as though it were burning her fingertips. “Just stop.”

  “I need you to sign it.”

  “You’re out of your mind. How dare you ask me to sign a confidentiality agreement hours after we’ve slept together?” And the day’s worries played on her mind so that she shook her head. “No, not slept together. I slept alone. We just had meaningless sex, right? We just ‘pretended’ last night.” She tilted her chin defiantly, glaring at him with utter disbelief. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised. This is just the kind of move I’d expect from you.”

  He shook his head. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “Oh, I’m being unreasonable? My God, Apollo, you can’t even see how hurtful this is, can you?”

  “Hurtful? What is hurtful about asking you not to disclose any of this?”

  “You’re not asking me, are you? You’re legally obligating me. If you’d asked me, I would have said what I’ve already said – I’m not writing the article. I’m not interested in telling anyone about this –,”

  “Not even Elizabeth?”

  “Well, Elizabeth’s my sister. We tell each other almost everything.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you don’t think that, one day, being financially strapped might not lead her to sell this story to a tabloid?”

  Eleanor sucked in a harsh breath. “How dare you!”

  He grimaced. “You cannot be surprised that I don’t put much stock in any of your assurances on this score. It’s why I went to my lawyer and had this drawn up.” He took a step closer and she braced herself, not willing to feel the zing of chemistry that flashed between them. “But if you were planning on keeping this a secret, then there�
�s no harm in signing it.”

  “There’s every harm in signing it,” she contradicted. She glared at him, and her heart was twisting inside of her. “If I sign that, I’ll be accepting that you really don’t trust me. That you think I intentionally hurt you in the past and would do so again, given the chance, now. If I sign that, it will be a death knell to…”

  “To what?” He asked, when she stopped speaking.

  To a future. She breathed the words inside herself, her soul sagging under the weight of comprehension. He didn’t care about that, because he didn’t want a future with her. He’d made that abundantly clear. He wanted to have meaningless sex with a woman he desired, but didn’t ultimately want. He wanted to sleep with her this week, and then forget all about her next. And he wanted to do it with the assurance that no one would ever know.

  He wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

  “You can go to hell,” she snapped, but she reached across and took the document, scanning it once more before holding a hand out. “Pen?”

  He took one from his breast pocket and handed it to her, but she didn’t look at him, so she didn’t see the play of emotions on his face. The tightening of his jaw, the darkening of his expression. Nor did she see the way he closed his eyes as she scrawled her name across the bottom of the document.

  She handed it to him, not looking at him directly. “I’d like to call my sister now.” She stiffened her shoulders. “I’ll tell her I’ve been sent on another assignment. Don’t worry, Apollo. I’ll keep your name out of it.”

  He felt as though he’d stepped into the abyss. Her coldness had been unexpected, so too the look of obvious hurt on her face. She was pale, and he wanted to pull her into an embrace but he didn’t dare – he didn’t dare touch her, the mood she was in.

  “She’ll be anxious, and she’s got enough on her plate without worrying about me.”

  “Fine,” he said, realizing he’d have agreed to almost anything in that moment. Just to see her smile again, as she had done the night before. A stone twisted inside of him. “The thing is, Eleanor, I don’t even feel like I can speak to you without worrying you’re going to go and make notes on our conversation. Don’t you see how much easier this will make it?”