Claimed For His Duty (Greek Tycoons Tamed Book 1)

by Tara Pammi

  In a needy, hoarse voice that unlocked every last fear in her, he punctured the kisses with words in Greek.

  “Please, pethi mou. Let me in.” He swiped at her mouth with his tongue, his body pressing into hers. “I would drown if you would not let me kiss you, Leah, I would stop breathing if you gave up on me now. My life is no life without you in it. Until you brought it to me, I have not known love. Do not take it away now, Leah.”

  And the tender gesture, the unvarnished love in his words undid her. Twining her arms around his neck, Leah gave in. He kissed her as if he were truly drowning, with desperate desire.

  Lips scraped against teeth, limbs tangled, breathing was secondary as the fire between them consumed them.

  “Tell me that I haven’t lost you already. Tell me that you will teach me how to love you, Leah. Theos, it is all I want.”

  When she remained silent, he whispered, “I love you, Leah.”

  The declaration rang around in the silence, and slowly Leah opened her eyes. The truth of it shone in his eyes, rendering him acutely vulnerable. It was a look she had never thought to see on Stavros’s face.

  “You sent me away without a thought to me. I couldn’t believe how cruel you were, how much it hurt,” she said, her mouth trembling. “How easily you could break my heart, reject my love...”

  “The news about Calista devastated me, I thought I could never love you like you need to be loved... I stomped on my own feelings, Leah.”

  “But you do know, Stavros. You don’t say it in words, you won’t share your thoughts, but your actions...they speak so much. You are incredibly giving, caring, even if you drive me up the wall with your arrogance.”

  He traced a finger over her mouth, such tenderness in his eyes that Leah couldn’t breathe. “I will never stop loving you, nor will I ever give you up. I—”

  She ran shaking fingers over his brow, pushing back his hair. “When I’m with you, I’m unafraid. All I want is to take risk upon risk, all I want is to live and love you.”

  “Then let’s do it, pethi mou.”

  Burying her face in his neck, Leah nodded, her head dizzy with euphoria, fear beating a tattoo. He pushed them both off the bed and brought her to the edge of it. While she shivered all over from the intent on his face, he knelt in front of her.

  Looked at her with such love in his eyes that fresh tears fell on her cheeks.

  “Will you marry me again, Leah?” he asked against her lips. “Will you...choose to spend the rest of your life with me, pethi mou?”

  Leah buried her mouth in his throat, swallowed the tightness in hers. “Yes, Stavros. I’ll marry you... Tomorrow, if you can arrange it.”

  “No, not tomorrow,” he said, tugging her face up to his.

  “Why not? Are you having second thoughts already?”

  The ache in his eyes undid her. “I...want you to have the wedding you’ve always wanted. I want to take you out a few times. I want to do all the things you might have wanted to do before you married... I want you to take all the time you want...and until then...” He looked into her eyes and the love she saw there sent her heart to bursting.

  She shook her head, instantly understanding how his mind worked. Scooting closer to him, she straddled him and they both groaned. “No... I can’t sleep without you by my side. I can’t bear it if you—”

  “You will see me every day. When I make love to you again, you will have chosen to be my wife this time.”

  Something in his tone told her how important this was to him. That she marry him, that she become his wife because she loved him. “Three months,” she moaned, tugging his lower lip with her teeth. “Let’s set a date for after three months and no later. I don’t have your patience or your willpower...”

  He took her mouth in a hungry kiss that set fire to her claim... “Willpower, yineka mou? Waiting for you to walk toward me in your wedding dress...that’s the only thing that will keep me going.”

  EPILOGUE

  Three months later

  STAVROS HAD NO idea that three months could feel like an eternity. Theos, he must have been insane to set the rule he had because touching Leah and kissing Leah without taking her had been an exercise in torture.

  But in the same breath, he was also extremely glad that they had waited. Because Leah was worth every smile, every ache, every moment he had spent thrashing in his bed because he missed her with a bone-deep hunger.

  On a beautiful October evening, he waited with his breath hovering in his throat while a hundred guests looked on.

  Giannis’s mansion and grounds had been decorated lavishly and he stood under an archway in the garden. Lilies in beautiful arrangements spread their fragrance while the sky glittered a brilliant blue.

  Most of the guests had come to see his beautiful bride, the new designer that had shaken the fashion world with her designs—models she had worked with the past couple of months, half the population from his estate, workers from her factory, all because of Leah’s generosity of spirit, her kindness, the depth of her commitment and loyalty.

  And finally today, the magnificent woman was going to be his in a bond born out of love and laughter and joy. His heart ached as he remembered how much Calista would have loved to see Leah and him like this...

  And there she was, on Dmitri’s arm, walking toward him with sure steps.

  His heart threatened to jump out of his chest when he saw her.

  She had told him she was going to wear her own creation—the first wedding gown she had ever designed.

  She looked utterly fragile and so beautiful that he stared hungrily, desire fisting tight in his gut.

  Her long hair was combed away in a stylish ponytail, pearl earrings that had been a gift from Giannis at her ears, and the dress she wore was a demure creation in lace and sheer silk that didn’t bare an ounce of flesh.

  The modern, no-frill design hugged her slender body, leaving her arms bare, highlighting the long line of her thighs and legs.

  Had she made the outfit more modest because of him? Did she think he wouldn’t like it if it was one of her outrageously sexy, insubstantial creations?

  Had he made her doubt his love again?

  But one look into her gorgeous, shining eyes and all his doubts perished like so much dust.

  They shone with such happiness that he felt a tightness in his chest relent.

  They had spent the last three months touring for fabrics, laughing, and teasing each other, learning each other and falling in love all over again, and breathlessly waiting for this day.

  He felt his entire world sway and tilt at the love he saw in those eyes, at the way her luscious mouth trembled.

  She kissed Dmitri’s cheek and he handed her over to him.

  Gripping her fingers with his, he pulled her closer, the scent of her hitting him right in the solar plexus. “I love you, Leah,” he whispered in her ear, without waiting for the priest to begin.

  Her breath caught, she ran shaking fingers over his cheek as if she needed to check that he was all there.

  “I can’t wait for tonight,” she finally whispered, and pulled back, a wicked twinkle in her eyes.

  * * *

  It was only later that Stavros finally noticed the back of Leah’s dress. Specifically when the photographer had asked her to turn around and smile over her back.

  Her gaze holding his, she turned slowly, a coy smile curving her mouth.

  Heat pounded his blood, desire hitting him like a tsunami.

  Her back was bare, dipping precariously low to the curve of her buttocks, except for a row of white buttons drawing a tempting line down her spine, holding the sheer illusion panel together...

  Just the sight of that smooth, bare skin sent heat searing across his own.

  He could love her for years t
o come but his wife would always surprise him, he realized with a smile.

  Joining her, he ran his fingers up her spine, a fever overtaking his muscles.

  “Ready for your wedding night, yineka mou?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

  She trembled and turned into his arms. “Do you like the dress?”

  He nodded, and picked her up. A hundred cheers went up around them as he walked toward the entrance to Giannis’s house. “I love it. But I apologize in advance.”

  Her hands tightened around his nape. “For what?”

  “For ripping those delicate buttons. That’s the only way to get it off you, isn’t it?”

  Her smile reached into the depths of his heart. He carried her over the threshold and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. “Now you’re mine forever and forever.”

  “And you are mine,” she whispered, before claiming his mouth again.

  *****

  Keep reading for an excerpt from CHATSFIELD’S ULTIMATE ACQUISITION by Melanie Milburne.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Presents title.

  You want alpha males, decadent glamour and jet-set lifestyles. Step into the sensational, sophisticated world of Harlequin Presents, where sinfully tempting heroes ignite a fierce and wickedly irresistible passion!

  Enjoy eight new stories from Harlequin Presents every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  http://www.harlequin.com/harlequinexperience

  Chatsfield’s Ultimate Acquisition

  by Melanie Milburne

  CHAPTER ONE

  NOWHERE ON ISABELLE’S list of things to do before The Meeting was there any mention of cleaning up a fur ball. She looked at Atticus in dismay. ‘You do this to me now?’

  Atticus purred as he indolently lifted a front paw to groom as if to say, What is your problem?

  Isabelle blew out a flustered breath. ‘Why didn’t you do this yesterday when I had time to take you to the vet? Why today, when I’ve got a hundred people filing into the boardroom—’ she glanced at her watch and groaned ‘—like in about five minutes. Argh!’

  She pictured the Chatsfield clan striding in—Gene and his eight adult children...and Gene’s nephew Spencer Chatsfield and his two younger brothers. Even thinking Spencer’s name made her blood boil. As if what he’d done ten years ago hadn’t been enough. How could she have fallen for someone so hard and so fast when he’d only been playing a game? That was what made her veins throb and pulse with rage. She had been too stupid to see him for what he was. Too gullible and naive to see he was toying with her because he could, not because he wanted to.

  Seven months ago he had come breezing back into her life with a takeover offer. A takeover offer! As if she would ever sell anything to him.

  But he was up to his old tricks, somehow in the interim gaining forty-nine per cent of the Harrington shares. But at least they were equals now. She had the other forty-nine so he would have his work cut out trying to get them off her.

  To get anything off her, including her clothes— especially her clothes.

  ‘I should’ve brought home the smooth-haired tortoiseshell,’ Isabelle said as she gingerly picked up the fur ball in a tissue. ‘What was I thinking getting a hair machine like you?’

  Atticus blinked his green eyes and then lifted his back leg into a position Isabelle as a wannabe yogi could only envy.

  ‘Or a dog.’ She flushed the fur ball in the ensuite toilet. ‘One of those cute little yappy purse ones. That’s if dogs were allowed at The Harrington.’ She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror, grimacing at the way her layered hair hadn’t sat quite the way she’d wanted it to. ‘Or any pet for that matter. You should think yourself lucky I bent the rules to sneak you in.’

  She came back out and looked down at her blue-grey Persian cat again. ‘Are you sure you’re not going to choke to death while I head downstairs?’

  Atticus blinked again and mewed. ‘Purrht.’

  Isabelle snatched up her bag and phone. ‘I hope to God that wasn’t a yes.’

  * * *

  Isabelle saw him as soon as she entered the boardroom. He was sitting to the left of his brothers, Ben and James. Dressed in a sharply tailored designer charcoal-grey suit, with an ice-white shirt and black-and-silver-striped tie, he looked every inch the corporate player. Wheeling and dealing was his forte. He thrived on the challenge of the game, be it in the boardroom or the bedroom...especially in the bedroom. Damn him.

  His sapphire-blue eyes met hers across the space that divided them, making something punch against her heart like the jab of an elbow. His expression was inscrutable. But he’d always had the amazing ability to cloak what he was thinking behind a mask of marble or an enigmatic smile. Unlike her. Over the years she’d trained herself not to be so transparent. But it took so much energy to contain her emotions. Controlling them was like trying to bail out a wave-swamped dingy with a thimble.

  She raised her chin and shifted her gaze to encompass the assembled family and hotel management staff. ‘I’m sorry I’m late. I was held up with a...a housekeeping issue.’

  Leonard Steinberg, the business manager who was chairing the meeting, gave her a smile. ‘All sorted now, I hope?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Isabelle looked at the one vacant chair on the other side of the table from Spencer. ‘Who are we waiting for?’

  ‘The mystery shareholder,’ Spencer Chatsfield said, clicking his pen on and off as his gaze tethered hers.

  Isabelle suppressed a shiver as that cultured baritone with its English accent moved down her spine like a caress. She had to focus. This was the moment the Chatsfield family were waiting for, the moment when the final two per cent would be brought back to the table. She knew exactly who was going to walk through that door. Had known for quite some time. Had known and wondered how no one else had put the pieces of the puzzle together before now. The blowout in the press would be monumental. The Chatsfields were good at attracting scandals but this one was going to top the lot.

  The door opened and in came Isabelle’s stepmother, causing no less of a shock to the assembled family than if a vaporous ghost had appeared.

  ‘Mum?’

  ‘You?’

  ‘How could you?’

  ‘Liliana?’

  Isabelle felt sorry for all of them, all except Spencer. How Liliana had kept her identity a secret for so long was part miracle, part luck, especially in the digital age of camera phones and social media tagging. But Isabelle had always found her stepmother to be a secretive, elusive type, hard to get close to, even harder to know.

  The Chatsfield siblings had been young children—Cara, the youngest, a tiny baby—when their mother had left after suffering postnatal depression, but Liliana never made contact again. Isabelle found it hard to understand how Liliana could have remained incommunicado with her own flesh and blood but she knew her stepmother to be a complicated personality who kept very much to herself. How did it feel for the Chatsfield family to see their mother sweep in like a reclusive Hollywood celebrity who had suddenly decided to reclaim the limelight?

  ‘I know this must be a terrible shock to you,’ Liliana said. ‘I know you can’t possibly forgive me but I would like to explain. But business first.’ She turned to Spencer. ‘I’m giving you my two per cent.’

  Isabelle shot to her feet so fast her chair rolled back and hit the wall behind. ‘What?’

  Liliana turned to look at her. ‘On the condition you remain as president of the Harrington chain.’

&n
bsp; Isabelle opened and closed her mouth but she couldn’t access her voice. She felt the colour drain out of her face like one of those cartoon characters she had watched as a child. All of her extremities fizzed as if her blood pressure was dropping. This couldn’t be happening. Those shares were meant to be hers. It was her dream. Her life’s goal was to own a majority share in The Harrington. She’d been working in the hotel since she was in bobby socks. She was a Harrington, for God’s sake. The staff were her substitute family. They relied on her to keep things ticking over like clockwork. How could the hotel be handed to someone else who didn’t love and nurture it the way she did?

  It was her hotel, not Spencer Damn-his-eyes Chatsfield’s.

  ‘As majority shareholder Spencer will now be CEO of The Harrington, New York,’ Liliana said.

  Isabelle ignored the rumble of voices from the Chatsfield siblings and their father, Gene, who looked like he was about to have a conniption. Spencer remained composed and silent. Coolly composed. How he must be enjoying this, she thought as a knot of resentment twisted hard and tight in her belly. How he would be getting off on seeing her hopes dashed. He must have known this would be the outcome of the meeting. Why else would he be sitting there as if butter wouldn’t melt in his blistering-hot mouth? Had he done something to win over Liliana? Isabelle knew all too well how skilled he was at getting what he wanted by fair means or foul. Look how he’d showered her with gifts and romantic attention in the past. She had tried not to succumb but in the end she had fallen and fallen hard. But then, how could she not? Back then she had lacked street smarts while he had graduated from the school of charm with first-class honours.

  ‘I’m not working with him!’ she said, flashing him a livid glare.

  Liliana gave her a placating look. ‘I’ve given this a great deal of thought. Believe me, Isabelle. I know this is the right thing to do. I think it’s what your father would’ve wanted.’

  ‘My father?’ Isabelle choked. ‘How can you say that? He’s the one who gave Jonathan forty-nine per cent to throw away in a stupid poker game. Those shares should’ve been given to me in the first place.’