Her gaze darted to his tanned hand covering hers, the dusting of dark hair which disappeared under the cuff of his shirt. She could feel the heat from his touch infusing her, awakening all she wished to suppress.
She pulled her hand from under his at the same time as jumping up from her chair, making it scrape noisily on the marble floor. ‘What would the press do?’ She gulped the words out, hardly daring to form an answer to that question.
‘What would they do with a story like that, Charlie?’ He sat back in his chair, all cool, calm sophistication, but the glittering hardness of his eyes told her he knew exactly what they would do.
‘That’s easy,’ she retaliated harshly. ‘They’d ruin your reputation.’
He stood up, his body full of restraint and composure, but ice had filled his eyes, chilling her to the core. ‘Whatever you may think, Charlotte, I have done nothing wrong.’
‘You lied—to me and the world.’
‘Damn you, don’t you see?’ He strode towards her, his face full of anger, the angles sharp. ‘I wasn’t protecting myself. I was protecting Seb—and you.’
In exasperation he flung his hands up and marched towards the gleaming car and, before she could say anything more, he turned to look at her across the room, but it might as well have been across a continent.
The first bubbles of anger rose up like a shaken bottle of champagne and her breathing deepened, but still she couldn’t find her voice. How could he stand there and use Seb again, after all that had happened?
Just like she’d seen happen on the podium, the champagne burst out, showering her with fizzy drops of anger. ‘How dare you hide behind my brother’s reputation after engineering that photo of us kissing? Right here.’ She pointed at the car as she crossed the floor to him, her footsteps hard and forceful. ‘That photo alone was enough to clear your name. That kiss absolved you of any blame and now it’s splurged all over the papers and probably the Internet too.’
He looked taken aback by her outburst but he didn’t move. He stood tall and strong as she moved closer and closer, stoking the fiery anger higher and higher.
‘I didn’t force you to kiss me.’ His cool words poured cold water over the flames and for a moment she just looked at him. She couldn’t answer that, couldn’t offer any defence, because he was right. He hadn’t forced her. She had wanted that kiss so badly.
‘You manipulated the situation.’
‘By “the situation” I assume you mean the heated passion that raged between us from the moment we met?’ Suddenly the frozen depths of his eyes heated, so intense they almost scorched her skin.
‘That was just a convenient smokescreen.’ Despite the bravado, her voice trembled—and she hated herself for it.
She should never have given in to the heady desire that had filled her body and starved her heart. Somewhere deep down she was sure she’d known that, but at the time she’d known she would regret not tasting the desire which had been between them from the beginning. She hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of her life wondering what if? Now she was going to have to live with the fact that not only had she been used so callously, she’d fallen in love with the man who’d lied and cheated his way into her heart.
* * *
Alessandro saw the emotions play out across her face like a movie. Shock, denial, hatred. They were all there. Even passion and longing, but not once did he see anything which resembled what he felt for her.
‘So you don’t deny it existed.’ It was like walking a tightrope. At any moment he could lose his balance and fall. He held his nerve, calling on every bit of control he had. ‘You don’t deny you wanted me when we kissed right here.’
She looked at him, her eyes saying things he hoped were true but her lips stony silent. He moved forward but she stayed rooted to the spot.
‘Don’t run from the passion which exists between us, cara.’
‘I don’t need to run from that. I can handle the passion.’ Finally words tumbled from her with a force so fierce he drew in a sharp breath. ‘But it wasn’t passion, Sandro. It was lust.’
He remained still and silent, sensing there was more, but right now she was visibly shaking with emotions so powerful. He watched her beautiful face as she closed her eyes against them, her long lashes spreading across the paleness of her skin. His heart twisted and it was all he could do not to reach for her and hold her against him.
‘Lust I can deal with.’ She spoke again, her voice firm and resolute. ‘What I want to run from is your deceit.’
‘My deceit?’ He knew what she was referring to and regret piled on top of the guilt because he hadn’t had the strength to find a way to tell her everything. This guilt was intensified because he’d pushed aside the promises he’d made to spend the weekend with her, to indulge the lust, as she called it.
‘You lied to me, kept the truth from me, then used the spark of lust which was there, even at my cottage, to lure me to the launch night. To this very spot, and engineer the photograph that would prove to the world my family had forgiven you.’
Slowly he shook his head. How was he ever going to prove he had nothing to do with the photo, that it was just a lucky shot for the photographer? ‘I know how it must look,’ he began, but she cut his words off.
‘What would Seb say if he knew what you have done, how you tricked me so cruelly? What would he say about us?’
A glimmer of hope trickled through him at her mention of ‘us’ and he gave voice to the conclusion he’d reached just a few hours ago. ‘Maybe it was what he wanted all along.’
‘How can you know that? Much less say it.’ She turned from him and for a moment he thought she was going to walk away. He knew he couldn’t go after her again. As she stood, lost in thought, he moved towards her cautiously.
‘Seb made me promise to look after you,’ he said softly and saw her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she took. ‘Not just that night after the accident, but several times before. He played on my loyalty to my sister.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything.’ She turned her head slightly and he saw her profile as she looked distractedly at the floor. Pain and hurt lingered on her face.
Her voice trembled and finally she turned to look at him and, like the moment he’d unveiled the car, he saw her with all her vulnerabilities exposed, all her barriers down. ‘You should still have told me about the drink and the drugs. I had a right to know. I don’t care about anything else, not even that stupid photo, but that was the one thing you shouldn’t have kept from me. Not even because of a promise.’
He fought really hard against the urge to hold her, to soothe all the pain, but right now he didn’t dare. If she ran again it would be for ever; he knew that much.
‘Seb was beside himself, desperate that you should never know, and I made the promise to keep him calm. By the time your father arrived I was firmly fixed into it. I’m sorry, Charlotte. I had no choice at all.’
As he spoke he thought of why he was here, what had made him race to the airport in the first place. All he’d been able to think about was taking her in his arms and holding her, comforting her as he had that night in his office. He should have told her the truth then but she’d been too fragile, so he’d kept the secret.
How did you tell the woman who had just kissed you with such passion news like that? Selfishly, he’d kept silent, enjoying the spark that had been lit between them. Now he knew that spark wasn’t just lust, not for him at least. It was love.
He loved her. He didn’t just desire her—he loved her, so much it hurt.
He needed Charlie, or Charlotte, as he thought of her, when passion blazed in her eyes. She was Charlie behind the wheel of a car and Charlotte in his arms, and he loved her—completely and unconditionally.
* * *
Charlie thought of what Alessandro had just said, the sit
uation he’d been forced into. He had kept that promise to Seb. He hadn’t been the one who had told her the truth, so did that make the whole situation any more honourable?
She closed her eyes against the pain of finally knowing the truth and the knowledge that it was time to move on, time to leave her garden of sanctuary and live life as Seb would have wanted her to do. As the realisation dawned, Alessandro put his arms around her and pulled her close. This was where she wanted to be, in the arms of the man she loved, but that still didn’t mean he loved her. He’d agreed to her terms of ‘not for ever’ as they’d stood in his apartment on that first night, had even taken her away to his villa to enable him to distance the affair from everything else.
‘Why are you here, Sandro?’ She looked up at him, hardly daring to hope. But he was here, holding her so tenderly—didn’t that mean something?
‘I couldn’t let you go, not without explaining.’ His face was full of concern, but she searched for more, desperate to find even a trace of something else.
‘So, cara. Why are you here?’ The term of endearment, said in the most gently seductive tone, gave her just enough hope. ‘You know the truth yet you are still in my arms.’
She looked up at him, wondering if he’d see the reason shining from her eyes. He’d been protecting her from the truth all along. She didn’t hate him. She loved him. He had honoured Seb’s promise at great cost to himself and that just made her love him even more, but could she say those words aloud?
‘I couldn’t go, not yet.’ She lowered her lashes, not wanting to see what was in his eyes, not daring to hope. ‘I needed the truth.’
Was it her imagination or had his arms loosened slightly around her? She swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
‘And now that you have it?’ He let go of her, walked towards the car, pressing his palm against the fiery red paintwork. ‘Now that you know the truth, will you return to your life, move on?’
It was as if he was letting her go, allowing her to walk away and find her destiny. Did he not know he was her destiny? That if he didn’t want her she didn’t have a life to return to? She couldn’t stop her limbs from trembling and couldn’t find the words to tell him what he needed to know.
‘Sandro, I...’ Her shaky voice deserted her; she began to feel suffocated, as if she couldn’t get enough breath into her lungs.
He looked over at her, his brow furrowed into a frown, but it was his eyes that finally showed her what she needed to see. His gaze darted to her as her words died as she saw it. In the dark depths she saw the same hopelessness which filled her heart and she knew she had to say those words. With a jolt she also realised why he wouldn’t say them first.
I don’t do for ever.
Her words on that first night they’d made love drifted through her mind like a haunting spirit. ‘Sandro, I have to say this. I can’t go without telling you.’
Slowly she walked towards him, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she almost couldn’t think. He looked away from her and jabbed his fingers through his hair, turning his body away, deflecting anything she might try to say. Had she misread the hope in his eyes?
‘Just go, Charlotte. If that’s what you want to do, there is nothing more to say.’ She saw his jaw tense as he gritted his teeth, felt the raw pain and knew she hadn’t misread anything.
‘I love you, Sandro.’ The silence that suddenly shrouded them was so heavy she almost couldn’t stand and for a moment he didn’t move, frozen in time.
When he did, it was such a small movement, disbelief all over his face as he stepped towards her. In slow motion he reached for her hands, taking them in his and drawing her towards him. She was desperate for him to speak, to say something, but he just looked at her, his hands firmly wrapped around hers.
‘Ti amo, ti amo...’ His seductive accent caressed each word and his lips, which had moments ago been pressed into a hard line, smiled. Wonder and happiness sparked from his eyes and she fell into his embrace, feeling as if she had come home. She’d found where she needed to be to move on in life.
Right here in the arms of the man she loved.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from GREEK’S LAST REDEMPTION by Caitlin Crews.
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
CHAPTER ONE
THEO TSOUKATOS SCOWLED when his office door swung open despite the fact he’d given strict orders that he wasn’t to be disturbed. He expected his orders to be followed—and they usually were, because no one who worked for him enjoyed the consequences when they were not.
He was becoming more like his widely feared father by the day, he thought grimly. Which he could tolerate as long as that was only true here, in the business sphere. God help him if he ever acted like his father in his personal life.
Never, he vowed, as he had since he was a child. I will never let that happen.
“I trust the building is on fire?” he asked his secretary icily as she marched inside, because it could only be a crisis that brought her in here against his instructions, surely. He glowered at her. “Or is about to be?”
“Not as far as I’m aware,” she retorted, appearing utterly unperturbed by his aggressive tone. Mrs. Papadopoulos, who reminded him of his hatchet-faced, steely-haired and pursed-mouthed aunt and acted about as enamored of Theo as Aunt Despina always had been, was meant to keep him from distractions rather than cause them. “But it’s early yet.”
Theo sighed his impatience. He was in the middle of compiling the rest of his notes on fuel efficiency and trim optimization strategies for the meeting that he’d be running in his father’s stead today, now that wily old Demetrious Tsoukatos was focusing more on his mounting medical issues than on the family business. He glanced out the wall of windows surrounding him and saw all of Athens arrayed at his feet, the sprawling commotion and hectic madness of the greatest city in Greece serving as a reminder, the way it always did.
That all that rose must fall—before rising again, stronger than before.
That was the unspoken Tsoukatos family creed. It was the story of Theo’s own life, certainly. It was built into every inch of the proud Tsoukatos tower, where Theo now sat. Just like the steel girders themselves that made the building an imposing physical testament to his shipping magnate father’s searing vision and ruthless success in the face of all obstacles, from sworn enemies to the faltering economy.
These days, the tower stood as a marker of Theo’s own growing reputation as a fearless risk taker and out-of-the-box thinker in a business cluttered by those who played it safe straight into bankruptcy. That wasn’t going to happen to the Tsoukatos fleet. Theo might have acted the spoiled heir apparent for most of his twenties, but in the past four years he’d dedicated himself to proving he was every bit as formidable and intimidating as the old man himself.
It turned out he was good at this. As if ruthless power really did run in his veins the way his father had always assured him it did. Or should.
And he’d decided he could emu
late his father here, in the boardroom, where that kind of ruthlessness was a positive thing. Theo’s own personal life might have been a mess, such as it was, but not for the same reasons Demetrious’s had been. I may not be happy, he often told himself fiercely, but at least I’m not a liar, a cheater or a hypocrite.
He was surrounded by too many who couldn’t say the same.
Theo aimed his most ferocious glare at Mrs. Papadopoulos as she came to a sharp stop on the other side of his wide desk. She eyed him right back with her special brand of mild judgment and automatic condemnation, which, perversely, he quite enjoyed. The woman was his own, personal version of the proverbial hair shirt and Theo was nothing if not the kind of man who liked to keep his sins as close as possible to his skin.
“It’s your wife,” Mrs. Papadopoulos said crisply, speaking of his sins, and Theo stopped enjoying himself. With a great thud that he was momentarily worried was actually audible.
His wife.
Holly.
Theo was so used to that flare of dark rage, that thunderbolt of pure fury, that he told himself he hardly noticed it any longer as it careened through him, setting off a string of secondary explosions. It had been almost four whole years since he’d laid eyes on his errant wife. Almost four years since they’d been in the same room, or even in the same country. Four years since he’d last touched her, tasted her, lost himself in her—which he never would again, he reminded himself coldly, as it was, not coincidentally, also four years since he’d discovered the truth about her. And the mockery she’d made of their marriage.
You did not discover the truth about her, he reminded himself darkly. Pointedly. She presented her confession to you, as if on a silver platter...
Craving Her Enemy's Touch Page 16