by Annie West
CHAPTER THREE
COSTAS FORCED HIMSELF into a semblance of patient stillness as the girl beside him digested the news.
Admitting that the chance of success was slim had brought the black fear surging back. The inescapable truth that for all his power and authority, this was one thing he couldn’t make go away.
He’d give anything to save his daughter. Do anything. He wouldn’t hesitate a second to take the illness into his own body, if only it were possible. Anything to save Eleni.
Instead he’d been forced into a role of unbearable powerlessness. He’d demanded the best medical attention, engaged the top physicians and bullied Eleni’s distant relatives into testing their compatibility to donate bone marrow. All to no avail.
If the doctors were to be believed, this girl beside him was the only hope his daughter had left.
It was the smallest of chances. But hope was all they had left, he and Eleni. He’d bargained with God and would tackle the devil, too, if it meant they could overcome this disease.
Why didn’t Sophie Paterson say something? Why not answer his unspoken question?
His hands fisted so tight that pain throbbed through them. The muscles of his neck and shoulders stiffened into adamantine hardness as he fought the impulse for action. He wanted to shake her into speech. Bellow out that she was their last hope. She had to take the test. She had to.
What was she thinking?
He reviewed the material the private enquiry agency had just phoned in about her and her mother. A pity they hadn’t reported before he’d arrived at her house. He winced, remembering his demand to see Christina Liakos.
Sophia Dimitria Paterson was twenty-three, had just finished her course in speech pathology, an only child. Her father had died in an industrial accident when she was five. Her mother had worked as a cleaner to support them.
He wondered how Petros Liakos would feel, learning his once-beloved daughter had spent years working double shifts to keep food on the table. Such a far cry from the pampered life she’d led in Greece.
Sophie had worked as a waitress part-time while she studied. She liked to party. Was outgoing and very popular, especially with young men.
Educated but no money. In fact, according to the financial report he’d just heard, Sophie Paterson had inherited a substantial debt from her mother.
Why didn’t she say something, damn it? Wasn’t it obvious what he wanted from her?
Or was she waiting for him to persuade her?
He darted a measuring glance her way. Surely not. She didn’t seem the type.
But then he had personal experience of exactly how acquisitive and devious women could be. It wasn’t a lesson he needed to learn twice.
Unable to contain the urgent need for a physical outlet for his tension, he shot to his feet, towering over her as she stared into space. He shoved his fists into his trouser pockets, hunching his shoulders against the hollowing pain he refused to admit into his consciousness.
For an instant her eyes met his. Then quickly she shifted her gaze.
In that moment Costas felt the last of his hard-won control tear apart. The social niceties, the veneer of the civilised world were stripped away, like a long, uncoiling ribbon, leaving him free of everything but his desperation.
‘If it’s money you want there’s plenty of that to sweeten the choice for you.’
Her head swung round and she stared up at him, eyebrows arched. As if she didn’t already know just how wealthy the Liakos family was.
And their riches were nothing compared to his. Would she do what he wanted for money? He’d met too many people, including beautiful young women, who’d sell their integrity, much less some bone marrow, for a tiny fraction of his material wealth. And she was a Liakos. He knew exactly what that family was capable of.
Still, the idea that she could be bought sickened him. He swallowed down hard on the sour taste of disappointment and swung away from her.
‘Your grandfather set aside a legacy for Eleni. Money and company shares.’ His tone was clipped. Anything to get this over with. They’d strike a bargain and settle it.
He sensed her involuntary movement and knew he had her hooked. He heard her breath catch.
‘If the doctors say you’re a match and you go through with the procedure,’ he continued, ‘I’ll arrange to have that legacy passed to you instead. There’ll be no argument from your grandfather, I’ll guarantee it.’ He paused, letting her wait for the clincher. ‘I haven’t had it valued, but I guarantee it totals well into seven figures.’
Silence.
No doubt she was imagining what she could do with several million dollars. Already in debt, she’d be eager to take up the offer.
‘Is that all?’
‘What?’ He swung round. She stood at his shoulder. Colour tinted her cheekbones and washed across her slender neck. Her eyes were brighter too.
Again he experienced that shaft of molten desire straight to his lower body. But now he felt contaminated by it. Even in lust his taste was usually more discriminating. Gold-diggers had never held any appeal for him.
‘Is that the last of your offers?’ she asked.
He ignored her attempt to bargain for more and cut to the chase. ‘You’ll agree to be tested and take my terms?’
‘I’ll agree to nothing, you arrogant bully.’
He stared down, shocked to realise the gleam of avarice in her eyes was instead a flare of blatant fury. No sign here of a grasping, money-hungry opportunist. She looked as if she’d like to tear his eyes out.
Could he have got it wrong?
‘You might think you’re a big man but you’re just a hollow sham.’ She shoved her mass of riotous hair back behind her shoulder and squared up to him, toe to toe. Her head barely topped his shoulder. Her chin jutted at an impossible angle as she glared at him.
‘What gives you the right to assume that I’m some heartless, avaricious monster?’ She jabbed his chest with her index finger. ‘Who’d take money,’ jab, ‘to help a sick child?’ Jab and twist.
‘I bet you didn’t put this proposition to any of your relatives back in Greece, did you?’
He opened his mouth to argue. But she was right. They were family. They’d be mortally offended at the very idea. But Sophie Paterson…She was Eleni’s family, yet she was an unknown quantity.
He refused to question the way his mind shied from the idea of her being part of his family.
‘Of course you didn’t,’ she almost spat at him. ‘You wouldn’t offend your daughter’s real family.’ Again that jab into his chest. ‘But we Australians…we were never up to scratch, were we? You’d expect the worst from us.’
Her voice rose in strident accusation yet he saw the glitter of unshed tears in her eyes. Her soft mouth quivered and she bit down so hard he feared she’d draw blood.
Burning shame seared out from the accusing point of her finger, through his torso, right to his heart. It wasn’t an emotion he was used to. And he didn’t like the sensation of guilt one iota.
‘Enough,’ he growled, clamping one hand round hers and pressing her open palm across his shirt.
His heart leapt at the contact, thudding an uncontrollable tattoo, and he fought the impulse to drag her into his arms and stop her voice with his mouth. Her lush lips were open now, in a circle of surprise that made him want to dip his head and discover the taste of her on his tongue. She’d be sweet as honey. Hot as flame. Heat burst across his skin, just at the thought of it.
Anger. Guilt. Lust. They rushed through him in a feverish swirl that escalated into raw desire. So savage it slammed through him with a force that almost made him reel.
He dragged oxygen into his air-starved lungs and stared down at her, wondering. He knew desire—had no trouble assuaging it. But he’d never felt anything like this before. Ever.
What the hell had he got himself into?
Sophie blinked up into his glittering black eyes and felt the blaze of fury that had buoyed her
through the outburst dwindle and fade.
He was so close she could see that, for all the severe planes and angles of his face, his skin was fine-grained and smooth but for the rough shadow along his jaw. Her nostrils flared as she detected and instinctively responded to his scent: heat and musk. One hundred per cent pure masculine pheromones.
‘Enough,’ he said again, his voice a husky growl that sent all her nerves into alert.
For an endless space their eyes met and held, an indefinable heat pulsing through the crackling silence between them. If she could have broken his hold she would have backed away, put some distance between them till she felt safe again. When he looked at her like that she couldn’t think. And she didn’t want to feel.
‘You have my apologies,’ he said at last. He shook his head decisively when she would have spoken. ‘In the extremity of the situation, I leaped to the wrong conclusion. I saw your silence in the worst light.’
He paused and dragged in a breath so deep that his chest almost touched hers.
‘I have experience in dealing with people who are not so…un-affected by material wealth as you.’ His eyes, darkly mesmerising, held hers. ‘I regret the offence my words caused you.’
His heart drummed beneath Sophie’s fingers, the encompassing heat of his body surrounded her. His eyes seemed to gaze right into her soul. If she could have looked away she would. But the intensity of his scrutiny held her in thrall, as surely as if he’d bound her physically to him.
This was dangerous. She had to end it. Now.
‘I accept your apology,’ she said, wincing at the stilted sound of her voice. ‘I was hurt that you believed…’ She shook her head. What did it matter now? ‘It was a misunderstanding,’ she said as graciously as she could.
‘Thank you, Sophie.’ His voice was a low burr, brushing across her skin.
And then he did something totally unexpected. He lifted her hand, raised it to his lips and, gaze still meshed with hers, pressed a slow kiss to the back of it.
A jolt of sensation speared through her and her eyes widened. For a moment she saw the reflection of her own shock in his ink-dark eyes, and then they turned blank, giving nothing away. But ripples of awareness raced through her body, awakening dormant senses into stirring life.
It scared her.
She tugged her hand away, rubbing it with her other thumb, as if that would erase the burning sensation of his mouth on her flesh. He stepped back and she released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.
For the first time she looked, really looked, at Costas Palamidis. Trying to see beyond the stereotype she’d assigned to him.
He was more than the epitome of ruthless machismo she’d first thought him. More than a father fighting against the odds for his daughter’s life. He was clearly used to dealing with wealth and power, and from what he’d said, with the sort of people she’d prefer to avoid.
The grimness of his face had seemed bone-deep when they’d met. But was it simply the overlay of despair on a man protecting his family against the worst possible odds?
And there was more to ponder over. Now she’d seen that spark of undiluted sexual energy in him, felt its potency in her own crazily jangling nerves. It set off every alarm bell in her brain. But she couldn’t simply walk away from him. Not now she understood why he was here.
She was no closer to understanding who Costas Palamidis was. And, she realised, she was torn between wanting to have nothing more to do with him and the disturbing need to find out everything.
Sophie drew in a slow breath, acknowledging that she was in deep trouble.
Something had happened in that short, violent storm of emotions. Some barrier had been breached, some internal barricade splintered, leaving her feeling wide open and defenceless. She hadn’t a clue how, but now, instead of feeling only grief at her loss and fury at the thought of her grandfather, a new mix of feelings swirled within her. They threatened the iron-hard control that had kept her going through the last few weeks.
Something about this man, this stranger, had reached straight out to her, unsettling her in ways she didn’t comprehend.
He wasn’t her type. Not at all. Big, bossy, take-charge guys weren’t her style. So how could she explain this feeling of linkage, of a bond between them?
She couldn’t.
‘Now we understand each other.’ His voice was low, vibrant, making her aware of her body’s immediate response of shimmering excitement. Just to the sound of him!
She nodded, not trusting her own voice.
‘And you’ll help?’ There was unmistakable urgency in his controlled tone.
‘Of course I’ll do what I can,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t ignore your little girl.’
His smile was taut, perfunctory. Already he was planning his next move; she could see it in his eyes, in his ready-for-anything stance. He was probably deciding how best to manage the logistics of the test.
‘But don’t forget,’ she warned, reaching out a hand as if to restrain him, then losing her nerve and letting her arm drop to her side, ‘there’s no guarantee it will work.’
His look told her what he thought of her caution. ‘It’s got to work. There’s no other option.’
He made it sound simple. As if the outcome were assured. Sophie shivered. The bleak reality was that she probably wouldn’t be able to help his daughter.
But she didn’t voice her caution again. She understood too well the desperation of watching a loved one wither away before your eyes. The eagerness with which you snatched any hope, no matter how tenuous. The constant prayers, the belief that somehow you might will them to survive.
She’d been like that as her mother lay in hospital, unable to fight the disease that robbed her of life far too early. And it was like that now with Costas Palamidis.
He might look hard as nails. In fact, she was sure he was. But the weary lines fanning from his eyes, the carved lines bracketing his mouth, revealed a pain that was no less real for being savagely hidden behind his formidable reserve.
That must be why she felt this unique connection to him. As if there was far more between them than their status as cousins-in-law.
Sophie breathed a deep sigh of relief. That was it. Of course there was a rational explanation. Fellow feeling for someone suffering the trauma she’d been through.
She looked up into his severe face and told herself it would be all right. She didn’t need to worry any more about the inexplicable fusion of awareness and fear that he evoked in her. It had an explanation after all.
Steadfastly she ignored the trickle of unease that slid down her spine as her eyes met his. Fire sparked again deep within her.
‘I’ll make all the arrangements,’ he was saying, and for the first time his gaze was warm with approval.
The trickle disappeared as a wave of heat washed over her. She nodded, trying to concentrate on what lay ahead and ignore her physical response to that look.
‘Can you be ready tomorrow?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’ The sooner the better.
‘Good.’ He took her elbow and turned towards her house, pulling her along with him. His hand was hot through the sleeve of her shirt and his warmth at her side enfolded her. Her chest constricted strangely, as if all the air had been sucked from her lungs.
‘I’ll organise our flight for tomorrow,’ he said.
Sophie faltered to a stop. ‘Sorry?’
‘Our flight.’ He sent her an impatient glance and started walking again, guiding her beside him. ‘I’ll call you with the details and drive you to the airport.’
‘I don’t understand.’ She frowned. ‘It’s just a medical test, isn’t it? A blood test or something?’
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘A blood test, and if that’s compatible the doctor will take a bone-marrow sample.’
‘Wait!’ She planted her feet wide on the ground so this time he was forced to stop and face her. ‘What’s this about a flight?’ she demanded. ‘Surely the tes
ts can be done in Sydney?’
His dark brows arrowed down in a V. ‘They can be done anywhere. But this way you’ll be on hand if the doctors say we can go ahead with the transplant.’
Again Sophie felt that stab of unease at his presumption this would work. That she would be Eleni’s donor. But what if the news wasn’t good?
‘You’re taking a lot for granted. It would be easier if I come to Greece once we know if this will work.’ That would be time enough for her to face her mother’s relatives. The very idea of that made her stomach churn.
His hand curled tighter round her elbow and he drew her up against his body. She stared into his face, so implacable, so determined that for a single, startled moment Sophie’s breath stopped.
Out of nowhere surfaced the mind-numbing idea that he wasn’t going to release her. Ever.
Costas stared down into her dark-honey eyes and told himself to slow down, to be patient. And, above all, to ignore the searing realisation of just how good it felt to touch her. To feel her body against his.
She was grieving.
She was off-limits for all sorts of reasons.
But she felt so right, tucked here against him. Her fresh scent had teased him from the moment he’d pulled her close, awakening long-dormant senses. Old needs.
He wanted…
Carefully Costas released his hold and stepped away, putting some space between them. Her chest rose and fell with her choppy breathing and he could see the reflection of his own puzzled response in her face.
No. This wasn’t about what he wanted from her. That could never be. This was about what Eleni needed from her. Nothing else could be allowed to cloud the issue. Nothing.
He stepped back another fraction and let his hands drop to his sides.
‘It will be simpler and faster this way,’ he said. He refused to voice the superstitious fear that if he let Sophie out of his sight, left Australia without her, this opportunity to save Eleni might slip through his fingers. That something would prevent Sophie from coming to Greece. He clenched his hands together behind his back.
‘I could go to a clinic here in Sydney—’