by Julia James
But, though he lavished his largesse on her, she was as prudent as she could be with it. She bought clothes and accessories only when it was required of the life she led with him. Only when, with the slightest frown in his eyes, he remarked that he’d seen her too many times in a particular outfit. Only then would she replenish her wardrobe, so that she always looked pleasing to his eyes.
As she would now, she was sure, in this stunning dress that moulded down her slender body and flared in soft folds around her calves.
She bit her lip. Ten o’clock. It was so late. Of course, he worked ferociously hard. Running an international conglomerate was no sinecure. He spent his life travelling the world—it was no nine to five job, more like twenty-four-seven.
Self-reproach filled her. The last thing Markos needed was criticism from her for working so hard. One of the few things she could do for him, after all, was to make the hours he did not work as easy for him as she could. How could she possibly mind sitting here, waiting for him at ten o’clock?
She would sit on the sofa, slip off her shoes, and rest a while. He was a demanding lover, thrillingly so, and sleep didn’t figure a whole lot in their nights together. And she’d felt extra tired today—it must be that stupid bug getting at her. The journey into the West End on her shopping expedition had been exhausting, even by taxi—she would put her feet up now, and relax.
Markos would be home soon. He was just running late, that was all.
Markos let himself into the apartment, easing his cashmere overcoat from his shoulders and tossing it on a chair in the hallway. That damn business dinner had caught him unawares, but though he’d castigated his PA for having let him in for it, he’d had no choice but to go along. It might have been tedious, enduring a formal dinner at a City livery company, but the table he’d been on had had people on it that were useful to the Makarios Corporation. So, reluctantly but resigned, he’d changed into his tuxedo in his private apartment next to his office and been driven off by Stelios in his corporate limo. It was a bore, but it had to be done.
But now, at last, it was over, and he was home.
He walked into the lounge. The lights were set low, and the scent of fresh flowers caught at him.
So, too, did the splash of vivid, fiery colour against the white sofa. He walked forward, a smile pulling at his mouth.
Sleeping Beauty in person.
His eyes washed over Vanessa in the low light. God, but she was so lovely! For a moment he stood looking down at her as she slept, her long limbs relaxed, entwined with silk. Her breasts rose and fell, the bodice of her dress revealing their soft sweet mounds. He felt desire start in him, his blood quicken.
Time to wake Sleeping Beauty by the traditional means. But in his case, it would go a lot further than a kiss.
He dropped down beside her and lowered his mouth to hers. Her mouth was like velvet.
CHAPTER FIVE
CAREFULLY, VANESSA STEPPED out of the limo. Out in the chill of the still wintry night she was glad of the faux fur coat she was wearing over her thin evening gown. But she was only exposed to the elements for the few moments it took for Markos to unfold his long, lean form from the interior and take her arm to walk her into the famous West End hotel, the doors instantly opened for them by the attentive doorman.
She’d been to the hotel before with Markos, but tonight they were going to a private party being held in one of the function rooms. It was going to be a lavish affair; Markos had wanted her dressed to the nines, and had even come with her to choose her gown. It was a glittering gold sheath, with a décolletage lower than she was comfortable with but which didn’t seem to bother Markos in the least. Indeed, his eyes had gleamed appreciatively when she’d finally emerged from the ministrations of the stylist, hairdresser and manicurist who had been at work on her for two hours that evening.
‘You look breathtaking!’ he’d told her. ‘It only needs one more item…’
As Vanessa progressed across the foyer of the hotel she could feel the ‘item’ nestling in the valley of her enhanced cleavage—a pendant diamond that glittered like an iridescent rainbow.
‘Oh, Markos,’ she’d breathed, eyes wide, as he’d fastened it around her neck, ‘it’s beautiful.’
Now, as she walked beside him—the woman on Markos Makarios’s arm—she knew she looked as beautiful as she ever could. Whatever that bug had been that had been pulling her down, she seemed to have shaken it off at last. She felt healthy again—wonderful, in fact—and it was reflected in the mirror. There was a glow in her complexion, a brightness in her eyes, that was enhancing her beauty. And it was all for Markos. She felt her heart squeeze with emotion as she tilted her head to gaze up at him.
It overwhelmed her sometimes, the strength of her feelings, overpowering her. He was just so handsome, so wonderful, so devastating, so gorgeous. She could gaze at him all day, every day, every night, for ever and ever…
‘Markos!’
A voice called out from a little way away. A man was walking towards them, clad in a tuxedo like Markos, and speaking in Greek to him. At her side, Vanessa could feel Markos tense slightly as he paused.
‘Cosmo,’ he acknowledged.
The other man walked up to them. He was about Markos’s age, but nowhere near as good-looking, with swarthy features and a soft jawline.
More Greek was exchanged, but even as the other man was speaking to Markos his eyes were drawn to Vanessa. She didn’t like it. She was used to male attention, which came in two types—the type that was appreciative but polite, and the type that made her feel uncomfortable. This was definitely the latter. Instinctively, she felt herself stiffen.
‘Come, Markos, don’t be selfish—introduce me!’ The other man had suddenly swapped to English, and now his black eyes were openly lapping her up.
Did Markos hesistate? Vanessa was sure he did, and she was grateful. Then the other man said something else in Greek and gave a laugh.
‘Vanessa, this is Cosmo Dimistris. Cosmo—’
But Cosmo had not waited for the completion of the formal introduction. He helped himself to one of Vanessa’s hands, enclosing it between his own. They felt large and beefy.
‘Hot, Markos, definitely hot—you certainly know how to pick them!’
Even though he was speaking to Markos, his eyes were still greedily on Vanessa.
With a jerk she pulled her hand free. Cosmo was saying something else to Markos, with another laugh. Whatever it was he said, it did not go down well with Markos. Not that Cosmo seemed deterred—rather the opposite. Swapping to English he went on, ‘Come and have a drink—there’s plenty of time.’
‘Not for us, thanks,’ Markos replied evenly. He nodded curtly at Cosmo and set off with Vanessa towards the bank of elevators at the far side of the lobby. She was glad. Cosmo Dimistris, whoever he was, was a creep.
‘Who was that?’ Vanessa found herself asking. She hoped he was someone they wouldn’t run into again.
‘No one you need bother about,’ Markos answered tightly. He hadn’t expected to see Cosmo Dimistris here, and he hadn’t liked the way he had been so obviously taken with Vanessa. Not that Vanessa had seemed the slightest bit taken in return—but then she made it abundantly clear that no other male existed apart from him. His eyes glanced down at her. Theos, she really was stunning! Always beautiful, tonight she had surpassed herself, looking so breathlessly alluring that he was not surprised Cosmo had slavered over her. There was a radiance about her that was almost incandescent.
The bank of elevators was in front of him and he halted, reaching to jab at the control button. Almost simultaneously one set of doors sliced open and two women emerged. One middle-aged, one very young.
Markos froze.
Hell! Why in God’s name had that cretin Cosmo not thought to warn him?
The answer came with a savage lack of humour.
Probably he thought it would be amusing.
Well, it wasn’t amusing. Not in the slightest.
In the event, it only lasted the briefest moment. Constantia Dimistris took in the situation instantly. Markos could see that she’d recognised him—how could she not have?—but there was barely a split second between her recognition, of him and who he was with, and her sailing forward without acknowledging him.
Her daughter, however, was less worldly-wise. Markos saw Apollonia hesitate, her eyes flying to him. To his intense irritation, a blush started to flush through her face as she stopped dead in front of him.
‘Apollonia!’
Her mother’s voice was sharp, commanding, and her eyes darted compellingly at her daughter. For a second Apollonia looked bewildered, as though she could not understand why her mother was not acknowledging the presence of the man she hoped would become her future son-in-law. Then, excruciatingly slowly, her eyes flickered to the woman beside Markos Makarios.
Instantly the blush deepened and a soft noise escaped her throat, mingled shock and, Markos could see, fascination. He was not surprised—doubtless Constantia Dimistris would have instructed her virginal daughter that ‘men were different’, but her carefully sheltered existence would have ensured that Apollonia would never have seen in the flesh visible proof of that ‘difference’. The most she’d have seen would have been photos in celebrity magazines of fashionable nightspots with coy captions like Greek magnate, Markos Makarios, and friend.
To his intense relief, Constantia summoned her daughter again, even more sharply, and this time she responded. Still blushing, she hurried after her mother. With grim smoothness Markos ushered Vanessa inside the elevator, jabbed the button, and the doors slid shut.
Hell, thought Markos, he could have done without that. He really could have done without it! Typical of Cosmo Dimistris to think it amusing not to warn him that his mother and sister were staying at the hotel—Markos hadn’t even known they were in London.
His expression tightened. Had Constantia Dimistris deliberately trailed her daughter to London because his father had told her his son was still there? Well, if so, maybe that unfortunate encounter just now had served a useful purpose. He’d better make sure he took Vanessa with him wherever he went until the Dimistris females had taken themselves off again! Nothing like having your mistress in evidence to keep unwanted would-be brides out of your hair…
His eyes flickered to Vanessa again, taking in her rich, glittering beauty. What man in their right mind would want a wife when he had so beautiful a creature devoted to him? Deliberately, he let his finger trail along the low-cut line of her bodice, and saw her respond to his touch, just as he had known she would.
He gave a low laugh, good mood restored.
It was, indeed, a lavish affair. The huge, opulently decorated suite was thronged with people, and she could hear a polyglot buzz of languages. Vanessa didn’t have any idea who was actually hosting the affair, or what it was for, but it didn’t bother her. She was simply at Markos’s side, and that was that. He could converse in at least four languages, and she only in English, so a lot of the time she was simply smiling and sipping her glass of champagne. Even when the conversation was in English she said very little. Not that many people spoke directly to her, anyway, and then it was usually men. If they were the type like Cosmo Dimistris she was glad when they didn’t.
He was here; she’d seen him on the far side of the room, when the throng had parted a moment. He’d been laughing, showing a lot of teeth, and instinctively Vanessa had turned slightly away. Presumably he was one of the many guests here, but he hadn’t come up to Markos again and she was glad of it. Instead, since Markos was talking in French to a middle-aged man, she went back to doing what she instinctively did whenever his attention was elsewhere—looking at him.
She loved looking at him, taking in everything about him, from the arch of his eyebrows to the lines indenting around his mouth when he laughed, from the way his dark hair was oh-so-slightly ruffled to the way his dinner jacket sat taut across his shoulders. Every detail of his endless physical perfection. She could just gaze and gaze, and let her heart fill up with emotion and flow over the brim…
‘Vanessa?’
The voice was amused, indulgent, and she blinked. Markos had stopped speaking French and was glancing down at her.
‘Excuse me for a moment, will you?’
She nodded at once. ‘Of course,’ she murmured. Markos smiled briefly at her and made off with the other man, joining a couple some way off—another middle-aged man and a richly dressed elderly woman with a grand air about her. Other people moved, and she could no longer see Markos. For a moment Vanessa just stood there, feeling stupidly bereft.
Then a voice spoke beside her.
‘Alas, you’ve been abandoned. How foolish of Markos.’
Her head twisted just as her heart sank. The florid features of Cosmo Dimistris loomed at her side.
Automatically she lifted her champagne glass. It was both a psychological and a physical barrier. She took a sip, uncomfortably aware of the other man’s perusal.
‘Yes,’ mused Cosmo, his eyes fixed on her, ‘Markos certainly knows how to pick the most luscious fruit on the tree. Have you been with him long?’
Vanessa’s smile was tight, nothing more than social civility required.
‘We met in September.’
Cosmo’s heavy eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve lasted well,’ he remarked, his Greek accent pronounced. ‘But then, you are exceptional.’ He leaned towards her. ‘And only the best will do for Markos Makarios, of course.’ He gave a laugh that Vanessa did not like. Automatically her eyes went searching past Cosmo’s shoulders to where Markos was still engaged with the French group. Almost she started forward, to go towards him, then stopped herself. He must be talking business, and if he’d wanted her beside him he’d have taken her over.
So she held her ground. If she said as little as possible to this unappealing acquaintance of Markos, he might take the hint and move on.
But it seemed Cosmo Dimistris had no inclination to move on. He took a mouthful of whatever he was drinking, which looked like some kind of highball.
‘So,’ he said, his eyes still fixed on her, ‘you’re making the most of him, I take it?’ Casually he reached out and touched the diamond pendant with the tip of a fat finger. ‘Very pretty.’ As he took his finger away it seemed to slip suddenly, and touch her bare skin. It took all her poise not to flinch. ‘I’d give you emeralds, myself. Far more dramatic for your colouring. Tell me, what are your plans for the future? I would be interested in knowing.’ He paused. ‘Very interested.’ Again the hot eyes worked over her, in a way she hated.
Repulsion warred with sheer disbelief. Some man she had been reluctantly introduced to a bare hour or so ago was asking her about her plans for the future? Vanessa could only stare blankly, not knowing how to deal with such an intrusive question.
Oblivious, Cosmo Dimistris took another mouthful of his highball.
‘It would be quite funny, really,’ he went on. ‘Keeping it in the family, so to speak—I would be happy—more than happy—’ he bestowed another louche look at her ‘—to provide a convenient solution to your predicament.’
Vanessa was baffled. What on earth was he on about? She neither knew nor cared. She just wanted him to go away and Markos to return to her side.
She stiffened as Cosmo Dimistris leant forward suddenly, moving deliberately into her body space.
‘How loath Markos will be,’ he breathed, ‘to relinquish so delectable a mistress as you—but his loss would be my gain, no? And yours too, of course. I would be as generous as he, I assure you—you would not lose by coming to me.’ The hot eyes were all over her again, speculative, lascivious.
Vanessa jerked back, the movement sharp and instinctive.
‘Excuse me.’ Her voice was clipped. Shock and disbelief mingled in her. This repulsive man had actually said that to her? She turned away, lurching forward towards where Markos was still talking to the French group. She could not stay where she was and let that d
isgusting man talk to her in such a way. A shudder went through her, as if something unclean had touched her skin.
‘Markos—’ Her voice was pitched with relief as she reached him, her hand automatically going around his forearm as if he were a life-raft.
The Frenchman who’d been talking fell silent. Realising she must have interrupted him with her exclamation, she gave a shaky smile. ‘Please—do excuse me,’ she murmured a little breathlessly. She gave a social smile, her fingers closing around Markos’s arm a little tighter.
The Frenchman did not resume talking. Nor did anyone else say anything. There was a sudden silence. Then, abruptly, the elderly woman and the other man moved away. At her side, Vanessa suddenly realised that Markos was tense. As the couple moved away the man who’d been speaking said something again, in rapid French. Markos nodded curtly, then turned away, drawing Vanessa with him.
‘I’m… I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that—’
‘I told you I would only be a few minutes.’ Markos’s voice sounded sharp.
Vanessa stared, a hollow feeling in her throat.
‘What—what is it?’
She saw his lips press together, and then he spoke.
‘That was the Duchesse de Nerailles-Courcy,’ he said tightly.
Vanessa blinked. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know who she is.’
‘Well, obviously not.’ Markos sounded impatient, then gave a sharp sigh. ‘Look, forget it—all right? It’s too late now. But, please, next time I ask you to wait for me, I’d appreciate it if you did so.’
There was a sharpness in his voice that Vanessa had never heard before. Slowly, without realising she was doing it, she let her hand fall from his arm.
‘I’m sorry, Markos,’ she said. Her throat was constricted.