by Kendrick, Sharon; Lawrence, Kim; Crews, Caitlin; Milburne, Melanie
She pushed the bitter memories away because her hair was still damp and she had now started to shiver so Keeley forced herself to get up and to go into the cramped bathroom, where the miserable jet of tepid water trickling from the shower did little to warm her chilled skin. But the brisk rub of a rough towel helped and so did the big mug of tea she made herself afterwards. She’d just put on her uniform when there was a knock on the door and she frowned. Her social circle was tiny because of the hours she worked, but even so she didn’t often invite people here. She didn’t want people coming in and judging her. Wondering how the only daughter of a wealthy man and an actress whose face had graced cinema screens in a series of low-budget vampire movies should have ended up living in such drastically reduced circumstances.
A louder knock sounded and she pulled open the door, her curiosity dying on her lips when she saw who was standing there. Her heart pounded in her chest as she looked into the blaze of Ariston’s eyes and she gripped the door handle, hard. His black hair was wet and plastered to his head and his coat was spattered with raindrops. She knew she should tell him to get lost before slamming the door shut in his face but the powerful impact of his presence made her hesitate just as the siren tug of her body betrayed her yet again. Because he was just so damned gorgeous…with his muscular physique and that classical Greek face with the tiny bump midway down his nose.
‘What are you doing here?’ she said coldly. ‘Did you think of a few more insults you’d forgotten to ram home?’
His lips curved into an odd kind of smile. ‘I think you left…this.’
She stared down at the cream shawl he was holding, her heart automatically contracting. It was an old wrap which had belonged to her mother—a soft, cashmere drift of a thing embroidered with tiny pink flowers and green leaves. These days it was faded and worn, but it reminded her of the woman her mother used to be and a lump rose in her throat as she lifted her gaze to his.
‘How did you find out where I live?’ she questioned gruffly.
‘It wasn’t difficult. You signed the visitors’ book at the gallery, remember?’
‘But you didn’t have to bring it yourself. Couldn’t you have asked one of your minions to do it?’
‘I could. But there are some things I prefer not to delegate.’ He met her eyes. ‘And besides, I don’t think we’ve quite finished our conversation, do you?’
She supposed they hadn’t and that somehow there seemed to be a lot which had been left unsaid. And maybe it was better that way. Yet something was stopping her from closing the door on him. She told herself he had gone out of his way to bring her mum’s shawl back to her and he was very wet. Did he sense her hesitation? Was that why he took a step forward?
‘So aren’t you going to ask me inside?’ he persisted softly.
‘Suit yourself,’ she said carelessly, but her heart was thumping like a crazy thing as she walked back into the little bedsit and heard him shut the door to follow her. And when she turned round and saw him standing there—so powerful and masculine—her breasts grew hot and heavy with desire. Why him? she thought despairingly. Why should Ariston Kavakos be the only man who should make her feel so insanely alive? Her smile was tight. ‘Though if you’re going to try to justify your ridiculously controlling behaviour, I wouldn’t bother.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he questioned silkily.
‘It means that you turn up and suddenly send your brother away to sea—just to get him away from me. Isn’t that a little desperate?’
His lips hardened. ‘Like I told you. He already has a girlfriend. A young woman of Greek origin who has just qualified as a doctor and is light years away from someone like you. And if you must know, the business in the Gulf is both urgent and legitimate—you flatter yourself if you think I’d manufacture some kind of catastrophe just to remove him from your company. But I’m not going to lie. I can’t deny I’m happy he’s gone.’
She felt the sting of his words yet she could almost understand his concern—even though it was misplaced—because the contrast between her and Pavlos’s girlfriend couldn’t have been greater. She could imagine how Ariston must see it, in that simplistic and chauvinistic way of his. The qualified professional doctor versus someone with barely an exam to her name. If he’d gone about it differently—if he’d asked her nicely—then Keeley might have done what he wanted her to do. She might have given him her word that she’d never see Pavlos again—which was probably true in any case. But he wasn’t asking, was he? He was telling. And it wasn’t so much the contempt in his eyes which was making her angry—it was the total lack of respect. As if she meant nothing. As if her feelings counted for nothing. As if she was to spend the rest of her life paying for one youthful mistake. She tilted her chin upwards. ‘If you think you can tell me what to do, then you’re wrong,’ she said. ‘Very, very wrong.’
Ariston stiffened because her defiance was turning him on and that was the last thing he wanted. He’d come here ostensibly to return the shawl she’d left behind and yet part of him had wanted to see her again, even though he’d convinced himself he was only looking out for his brother’s welfare. In the car he had briefly buried his nose in the soft cashmere and smelt Keeley’s faint and flowery perfume. He’d wondered whether she had deliberately left it behind to get his brother to come running after her when he arrived back in England. Had that been her not so subtle plan? Did she sense a softness in his younger sibling and a susceptibility to her blonde sexiness which could override what seemed to be a perfect relationship with his long-term girlfriend?
He remembered how close she and Pavlos had been on that holiday, how they used to run around together all the time. People said the past had powerful and sentimental tentacles and she’d known his brother when he was young and impressionable. Long before he’d reached the age of twenty-five and come into the massive trust fund which had changed people’s attitude towards him, because wealth always did. Mightn’t Pavlos read more into his date with the sexy blonde than there really was and forget the safe and settled future which was carefully laid out for him? What if Keeley Turner realised that a fortune was there for the taking if she just went about it the right way?
He glanced around her home, more surprised by her environment than he could remember being surprised by anything in a long time. Because this wasn’t just a low standard of living—this was breadline living. He’d imagined peacock feathers and glittery necklaces draped over mirrors. Walls dripping with old photos depicting her mother’s rather tawdry fame, but there was nothing other than neatness and an almost bland utilitarianism. The most overriding feature was one of cleanliness. His mouth hardened. Was that simply a clever ploy to illustrate what a good little homemaker she could be, if only some big and powerful man would take her away from all this and give her the opportunity?
He’d been doing his best not to stare at her because staring only increased his desire and a man could think more clearly when his blood wasn’t heated by lust. But now he looked at her dispassionately and for the first time he registered that she was wearing some kind of uniform. He frowned. Surely she wasn’t a nurse? He took in a shapeless navy dress edged by a paler blue piping and then noticed a small badge depicting a bright, cartoon sun and what looked like a chicken drumstick underneath the words ‘Super Save’. No. His mouth twisted. Definitely not a nurse.
‘You work in a shop?’ he demanded.
He could see the indecision which fretworked her brow, before she gave him another defiant tilt of her chin which made her lips look utterly kissable.
‘Yes, I work in a shop,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’ she questioned angrily. ‘Somebody has to. How else do you think all the shelves get stacked with new produce? Or, let me guess—you never actually do your own shopping?’
‘You’re a shelf-stacker?’ he asked incredulously.
>
Keeley drew in a deep breath. If it had been anyone else she might have blurted out the truth about her mother and all the other dark stuff which had led her to having to leave so many jobs that, in the end, Super Save supermarket had been her unlikely saviour. She might have explained that she was doing her best to make up for all those lost, gypsy-like years by studying hard whenever she had a spare moment and was doing an online course in bookkeeping and business studies. She might even have plunged the very depths of her own despair and conveyed the sense of hopelessness she felt when she visited her mother every week. When she saw how the once vibrant features had become an unmoving mask while those china-blue eyes stared unseeingly into the distance. When, no matter how many times she prayed for a different outcome, her mother failed to recognise the young woman she had given birth to.
Briefly Keeley closed her eyes as she remembered the awkward conversation she’d had last week with the care-home manager. How she’d been informed that costs were spiralling and they were going to have to put the fees up and that there was only so much that the welfare state could do. And when she’d tried to protest about her mum being moved to that horrible great cavern of a place which was not only cheaper but miles away, she had been met with a shrugging response and been told that nobody could argue with economics.
But why imagine that Ariston Kavakos would have anything other than a cold and unfeeling heart? As if he would even care about her problems. The controlling billionaire clearly wanted to think the worst about her and she doubted whether coming out with her own particular sob story would change his mind. Suddenly she felt sorry for Pavlos. How awful to have a brother who was so determined to orchestrate your life that you weren’t allowed the personal freedom to make your own friends. Why, the sexy Greek billionaire standing in front of her was nothing more than a raging megalomaniac!
‘Yes, I’m a shelf-stacker,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’
Ariston wanted to say that the only problem he had was with her. With her inherent sensuality, which managed to transcend even the ugly outfit she was wearing. Or maybe it was because he’d seen her in a swimsuit, with the sopping wet fabric clinging to every feminine curve. Maybe it was because he knew what a killer body lay beneath the oversized uniform which was making him aroused. Yet it was a shock to discover just how humble her circumstances were. As a gold-digger she clearly wasn’t as effective as her mother had been or she wouldn’t have ended up in a crummy apartment, working unsociable hours in a supermarket.
In his mind he began to do rapid calculations. She was obviously broke and therefore easy to manipulate, but he also sensed that she presented an unknown kind of danger. If it hadn’t been for Pavlos he would have fought the infuriating desire to kiss her and just walked away, consigning her to history. He would have phoned the sizzling supermodel he’d taken to the photographic exhibition and demanded she drop everything. Especially her panties. He swallowed, because the equally infuriating reality was that the model seemed instantly forgettable when he compared her to Keeley Turner in her unflattering uniform. Was it the fire spitting from her green eyes and the indignant tremble of those lips which made him want to dominate and subdue her? Or because he wanted to protect his brother from someone like her? He’d sent Pavlos off to sea to deal with a crew in revolt—but as soon as the situation was resolved he would return. And who was to say what the two of them might get up to if his back was turned? He couldn’t keep them apart—no matter how powerful he was. Mightn’t her ethereal blonde beauty tempt his brother into straying, despite the lovely young woman waiting for him in Melbourne?
Suddenly his thoughts took on a completely different direction as a solution came out of nowhere. A solution of such satisfying simplicity that it almost took his breath away. Because weren’t men territorial above all else—especially Kavakos men? He and Pavlos hadn’t been brought up to share—not their toys, nor their thoughts, and certainly not their women. The age difference between them had guaranteed that just as much as the bleak and unsettled circumstances of their childhood. So what if he seduced her before his brother got a chance? Pavlos certainly wouldn’t be interested in one of his cast-offs—so wouldn’t that effectively remove her from his brother’s life for good?
Ariston swallowed. And sex might succeed in eradicating her from his mind, once and for all. Because hadn’t she been like a low-grade fever all these years—a fever which still flared up from time to time? She was the only woman he’d ever kissed and not had sex with and perhaps it was his need for perfection and completion which demanded he remedy that aching omission.
He looked around her shabby home. At the thin curtains at the window which looked out over a rainy street and the threadbare rug on the floor. And suddenly he realised it could be easy. It always was with women, when you brought up the subject of cash. His mouth hardened with bitter recall as he remembered the monetary transaction which had defined and condemned him when he had been nothing more than a boy. ‘Do you need money?’ he questioned softly. ‘I rather think you do, koukla mou.’
‘You’re offering me money to stay away from your brother? Seriously?’ She stared at him. ‘Isn’t that what’s known as blackmail?’
‘Actually, I’m offering you money to come and work for me. More money than you could have ever dreamed of.’
‘You mean you have your own supermarket?’ she questioned sarcastically. ‘And need your very own shelf-stacker?’
He very nearly smiled but forced himself to clamp his lips together before returning her gaze. ‘I haven’t been tempted into retail as of yet,’ he said drily. ‘But I have my own island, on which I occasionally entertain. In fact, I’m flying back there tomorrow to prepare for a house party.’
‘How nice for you. But I don’t see what that has to do with me. Am I supposed to congratulate you on having so many friends—even though it’s difficult to believe you actually have any?’
A pulse began to beat insistently at his temple because Ariston wasn’t used to such a feisty and insolent reaction—and never from a woman. Yet it made him want to pull her into his arms and crush his lips down hard against hers. It made him want to push her up against the wall and have her moaning with pleasure as he slid his fingers inside her panties. He swallowed. ‘I’m telling you because during busy times on the island, there is always work available for the right person.’
‘And you think I’m the right person?’
‘Well, let’s not push credibility too far.’ His lips twisted as he looked around. ‘But you’re clearly short of money.’
‘I’m sure most people are compared to you.’
‘We’re talking about your circumstances, Keeley, not mine. And this apartment of yours is surprisingly humble.’
Keeley didn’t deny it. How could she? ‘And?’
‘And I’m curious. How did that happen? How did you get from being flown around Europe on private jets to…this? Your mother must have made a stack of money from her various liaisons with wealthy men and her habit of giving tell-all interviews to the press. Doesn’t she help fund her daughter’s lifestyle?’
Keeley stared him out, thinking how very wrong he’d got it but she wasn’t going to tell him. Why should she? Some things were just too painful to recount, especially to a cold and uncaring man like him. ‘That’s none of your business,’ she snapped.
A calculating look entered his eyes. ‘Well, whatever it is you’re doing—it clearly isn’t working. So how about earning yourself a bonus?’ he continued softly. ‘A big, fat bonus which could catapult you out of the poverty trap?’
She looked at him suspiciously, trying to dampen down the automatic spring of hope in her heart. ‘Doing what?’
He shrugged. ‘Your home is surprisingly clean and tidy, so I assume you’re capable of doing housework. Just as I assume you’re able to follow simple instructions and help around the kitc
hen.’
‘And you trust me enough to employ me?’
‘I don’t know. Can I?’ His gaze seared into her. ‘I imagine the reason for your relative poverty is probably because you’re unreliable and easily bored by the mundane—and that maybe things didn’t fall into your lap as effortlessly as you thought they might. Am I right, Keeley? Did you discover that you weren’t as successful a freeloader as your mother?’
‘Go to hell,’ she snapped.
‘But I suspect that if the price was right you would be prepared to knuckle down,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘So how about if I offered you a month as a temporary domestic on my Greek estate—and the opportunity to earn yourself the kind of money which could transform your life?’
Her heart was beating very hard. ‘And why would you do that?’ she croaked.
‘You know why.’ His voice grew harsh. ‘I don’t want you in London when Pavlos returns. He’s due to fly to Melbourne in two weeks’ time, hopefully with a diamond ring tucked inside his pocket—and after that, I don’t care what you do. Let’s just call it an insurance policy, shall we? I’m prepared to pay a big premium to keep you out of my brother’s life.’
His disapproval washed over her like dirty water and Keeley wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with his offer, yet she couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in her head which was urging her to be realistic. Could she really afford to turn down the kind of opportunity which would probably never come her way again, just because she loathed the man who was making it?