Long moments passed before his breathing returned to normal. He rolled off her and immediately drew her into his arms, frowning when he caught the glimmer of tears on her lashes. ‘Forgive me,’ he said deeply. ‘I was afraid I would hurt you. It was too much, too soon. I should have curbed my impatience.’
Tahlia shook her head, blinking back the tears she had hoped he would not see and giving him a brilliant smile that evoked a peculiar feeling in his chest. ‘I was impatient too,’ she assured him, and then to her surprise could not prevent herself from yawning so widely that Thanos chuckled, the sound echoing beneath her ear as he curved his arm around her and settled her against him.
‘And now you are tired. Go to sleep, agape,’ he bade her softly, when she opened her mouth to deny it. Her lashes were already drifting down, and Thanos was shaken by the unexpected surge of protectiveness that swept through him as he watched her fall asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
TAHLIA was awoken by the bright sunlight filtering through the blinds. She turned her head and found that she was alone, the faint indentation on the pillow beside her the only indication that Thanos had slept in the bed last night. That and the slight tenderness of her breasts, the ache of muscles never previously used…
She blushed as she recalled in vivid detail the passion they had shared. Sex with Thanos had been a revelation, and in all honesty she did not regret that he was her first lover. The incredible sensuality of their lovemaking was proof that it was possible to enjoy physical intimacy without emotional involvement—because of course her emotions were not involved, she assured herself. Sexual chemistry was a powerful force and she had been unable to resist its pull. Yet she was conscious of a dull ache around her heart that had nothing to do with the pleasurable excesses of the previous night.
The most important thing was that Carlton House was safe and her parents would be able to spend their retirement free from financial worries, she told herself firmly as she threw back the sheets and headed for the en suite bathroom. It was ridiculous to wonder what would have happened if she and Thanos had simply been two strangers who had met one evening and been instantly attracted to one another. Perhaps he would have invited her out to dinner or the theatre? Would they have gone the conventional route of dating for a while before their relationship progressed to the bedroom?
It would not have been long before their mutual sexual awareness had exploded into passion, she thought with a rueful smile. But she wished they’d had the chance to get to know one another, to become friends before they became lovers. Instead their relationship was a business arrangement, and although Thanos no longer seemed to despise her, there was no escaping the fact that he was paying for her to share his bed.
The sun was already hot when she stepped onto the terrace, and she was glad of the shade cast by the large parasol as she sat down to breakfast. A note propped up against the coffee pot informed her that Thanos would be in meetings until late afternoon, and, recalling his scathing comments about her lack of clothes, she decided to go shopping in Mykonos Town.
‘Yes, there is a bus,’ the maid told her, looking puzzled when Tahlia asked her for directions to the town. ‘But Mr Savakis would not expect you to take a bus. His chauffeur will drive you wherever you want to go.’
‘The bus will be fine,’ Tahlia replied cheerfully. She could not rationalise why she did not want to make use of Thanos’s personal staff. It was simply important that she retained her independence as much as possible.
Using public transport also meant that she had an excellent tour of the island, she discovered an hour later, as the bus sped along the road. She stared at the rocky hilltops where goats were grazing, and then turned her head to admire the stunning view of the sea. On the horizon she could see the famous windmills, standing like sentinels on the hills above the port, and as the bus wound down into the town centre she was entranced by the myriad square white, flat-roofed houses, jumbled together in impossibly narrow streets.
Even this early in the season the town was bustling with tourists who strolled along the rows of souvenir shops and sat beneath brightly coloured parasols outside the cafés and tavernas. Mykonos was one of the most cosmopolitan of the Greek Islands, and unfortunately this was reflected in the price tags inside the fashionable boutiques. Determined not to allow Thanos to buy her clothes, Tahlia spent the last of her savings, earmarked to pay her electricity bill, on two evening dresses which she did not particularly like but were the cheapest she could find.
She spent another enjoyable hour window-shopping, had lunch in a charming little restaurant in an area of the town called Little Venice, where the buildings were so close to the sea that the balconies overhung the water, and finally caught the bus back to the Artemis, feeling hot and weary, but satisfied that she had two suitable outfits to replace the blouse that Thanos had ruined.
She was surprised to see him standing by the French doors when she walked into the suite, and his grim expression as he swung round to face her made Tahlia’s heart sink.
‘Where have you been for the past five hours?’ he queried tersely. ‘The maid said you went out at eleven this morning,’ he added, when Tahlia frowned and checked her watch.
‘I can’t believe I was out for so long. I went into the town, and there was so much to see. Time just flew,’ she said defensively.
‘Particularly as you travelled by bus,’ Thanos said disapprovingly. ‘The maid told me she had explained to you that I have assigned a driver to act as your personal chauffeur. Yianis would have given you a tour of the island—and carried your shopping,’ he added, his eyes dropping to the bags she was holding. ‘I was beginning to worry that something had happened to you,’ he said tensely. ‘You are a stranger to Mykonos, and some of the bars are not good places for you to go on your own.’
Tahlia’s temper prickled at the note of censure in his voice. ‘I’m a big girl now, and I can take care of myself.’
Did she have any idea how young she looked, with her face bare of make-up and her hair caught up in a ponytail? Thanos mused. He could imagine the interest she had aroused among the male population of Mykonos in her faded denim shorts and a white strap top, beneath which she was clearly not wearing a bra, and he felt a caveman instinct to lock her away in the highest tower.
‘During my student days I spent two summers backpacking around Europe. I know the kind of seedy places to avoid. I worked in many of them,’ she admitted ruefully.
‘Doing what?’ Thanos asked curiously.
‘Waitressing, mainly—although I did try a brief stint cooking pancakes in a crêperie in Spain. Until I set light to the kitchen and the manager sacked me,’ Tahlia told him cheerfully. ‘I was better at bar-work, or cleaning. Often I worked seventy hours a week, and saved the money I earned to see me through my next term at university.’
Thanos frowned. ‘Didn’t your parents support you financially while you were studying?’
‘They couldn’t afford to. Carlton House suffered serious structural damage in a storm a few years ago, and the cost of the repairs was astronomical. But I was happy to pay my own way. I never expected hand-outs.’
The Tahlia he was getting to know was nothing like the image fostered in the tabloids of a spoilt party-girl, Thanos brooded, trying to picture her waiting on tables. He remembered the exhaustion of working ridiculously long hours as a labourer, struggling to earn enough to pay the bills and feed and clothe Melina. Memories of those years of poverty were the reason why he now made regular donations to charities supporting the under-privileged, and they had made him appreciate all that he had. Until now he had never met any woman, apart from his sister, who respected the value of money.
‘But presumably your parents paid for your flat? You could not have afforded to buy a property in such an affluent area of London on the money you earned as a waitress.’
‘Oh, the flat isn’t mine, it belongs to George. My aunt Georgina,’ Tahlia explained hastily, when Thanos’s brows drew toge
ther. ‘I moved in with her after I left university. She’s elderly, and had had several falls. I wanted to take care of her, but sadly she developed dementia and it got to the point where I was terrified of leaving her to go to work because she had so many accidents. After she left a plastic jug on the electric hotplate and the kitchen caught fire my parents and I decided that it would be better for her to move into a residential home where she could have full-time care. I visit her twice a week—’ Tahlia broke off at the realisation that she would be unable to visit her aunt for the next month. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll miss me,’ she said quietly. ‘She doesn’t recognise me any more.’
‘Yet you still visit her regularly?’ Thanos murmured.
‘Of course.’ Tahlia shrugged. ‘Dementia is a cruel illness, but it doesn’t define Aunt George. She’s still a wonderful person.’
Far from being heartless, as he had once believed, Tahlia clearly possessed a depth of compassion and kindness that he had never found in any other woman, Thanos acknowledged. He did not want to dwell on how he had misjudged her and he strolled towards her, glancing curiously at her shopping bags.
‘So, what did you buy?’
‘Clothes—as ordered,’ she replied brightly. ‘Two evening dresses, to be precise.’ She pulled a garish pink gown from one of the bags and held it up for his inspection. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you had better show me the other one,’ he said flatly.
‘If you don’t like the pink, I thought I couldn’t go wrong with classic black.’ Tahlia held the plain black dress against her and gave an impatient sigh when he shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s cheap, badly made, and it drains the colour from your face,’ Thanos told her bluntly. He lifted his hand and ran his finger lightly down her cheek, watching the soft flush of rose-pink stain her skin. ‘If they are the only two choices, then I have to say that I definitely prefer you wearing no clothes at all, agape.’
The sultry gleam in his eyes caused a delicious little shiver to run through Tahlia, and her breath snagged in her throat when he slid the strap of her cotton top over her shoulder. It would be so easy to close the few inches between them and tilt her head in readiness for his kiss, but she was suddenly gripped with shyness. She was here with him to fulfil her side of a business arrangement, she reminded herself fiercely. She had not expected to be so utterly captivated by him—or to feel this lingering regret that their relationship would never be more than sex.
‘I think I’ll hit the shower,’ she mumbled. ‘It was hot and dusty in town.’
She quickly made her escape, crossing the lounge to the bedroom and carrying on into the en suite bathroom. A long, tepid shower cooled her heated skin and went some way to restoring her equilibrium. When she’d finished she wound a towel sarong-like around her body and blasted her hair with the hairdrier, wondering if Thanos had returned to work.
The sight of him propped up in bed halted her in her tracks, and her heart missed a beat as her eyes travelled down from his bare muscular chest, covered with whorls of dark hair, to the sheet draped low over his hips. The word handsome did not do justice to his stunning looks and simmering virility. One look at him was all it took for her to melt, she thought despairingly, unable to tear her eyes from the sensual promise of his mouth. The feral heat in his gaze was both an invitation and a demand, and when he wordlessly flicked back the sheet to reveal the awesome strength of his arousal, she swallowed, her eyes locked with his as she walked slowly towards the bed.
Heart pounding so hard she was sure he must hear it, she stretched out beside him, her faint sigh muffled as he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a slow, drugging kiss that sparked a flame inside her. His tongue probed between her lips, demanding access as he deepened the kiss, and she responded mindlessly, her body quivering with delight. He unwrapped her towel and stroked his hand over her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks before he replaced his fingers with his mouth and laved each dusky tip until she gasped with pleasure.
Passion built swiftly, and when he slipped his hand between her thighs she spread her legs wider, heard his low groan of approval as he parted her and discovered the slick wetness of her arousal.
‘You can touch me too,’ Thanos murmured, smiling when colour stained her cheeks.
After a moment’s hesitation she complied, and tested his restraint to its limit when she stroked her fingers lightly along his swollen length and then grew bolder and encircled him. Her innocence was indisputable, but she was an apt pupil, he acknowledged, his heart racing as he reached for a protective sheath and then positioned himself over her. He entered her with slow deliberation, watching her eyes widen as she felt him slide deeper, filling her to the hilt before he withdrew almost fully and thrust again, establishing a rhythm that drove them both to the edge and over, as their passion exploded in the glory of mutual climax.
It was just good sex, he reminded himself when he finally withdrew and rolled onto his back, taking her with him and tangling his hand in her hair. He guided her mouth down on his and kissed her with lazy appreciation. Physical compatibility at its best—which left him with a feeling of contentment that he had never experienced with any other woman.
‘I need to work for another couple of hours,’ he told her as he pulled on his trousers. ‘This evening we’re attending a reception. The shipping magnate Christos Petrelis is hosting a party on his private island.’
‘Which dress shall I wear?’ Tahlia mused. ‘The black or the pink?’
He gave her a level look. ‘Neither.’
‘You think I should go nude?’ she teased him, her impish smile tugging faintly on his heart.
‘It would certainly be an attention-stealer, but I admit I like the fact that I am the only man who has ever seen your naked body,’ he told her, frowning slightly as he acknowledged a degree of possessiveness that was unexpected. He reached for his phone and spoke rapidly in Greek before cutting the call. ‘Fortunately, I am a much better shopper than you. Come and see.’
Puzzled, Tahlia pulled on her robe and followed him into the lounge. He strode over to the door and opened it, to admit three porters laded with bags and boxes emblazoned with the names of famous design houses.
‘What…?’ She lifted her eyes to his face and waited for his explanation.
‘You need new clothes,’ Thanos murmured coolly. ‘So I phoned a friend in Paris who is a personal stylist, gave her your measurements and a description of your colouring, and asked her to send over a selection of suitable outfits.’
‘Well, you can just send them straight back.’ Tahlia stared around at the dozens of boxes and bags, from Chanel, Gucci, Prada, and felt sick with misery. The laughter she had shared with Thanos a few moments earlier had been replaced with a tangible tension. ‘I won’t wear clothes paid for by you. I told you—I pay my own way and I won’t accept hand-outs. Even though they are haute couture,’ she added grimly.
Thanos’s smile had faded and his expression was unreadable, although Tahlia sensed that she had angered him. ‘You will wear them,’ he told her, with a note of implacability in his voice that warned her she would have a fight on her hands if she refused. ‘As we discussed before, your sole purpose for the next month is to please me, and I expect you to dress appropriately.’
‘I don’t need reminding that you are paying for me to act the role of your mistress,’ she said stiffly, hurt pride churning in her stomach. In a battle of wills he would be a clear winner, and a dignified retreat was her only option. ‘Very well, I’ll wear the clothes while I am here on Mykonos. But I shall regard them as a uniform, and I will leave them behind when our contract is over.’
Thanos restrained himself from pulling her into his arms and shaking some sense into her, and ignored the stronger urge to kiss her into submission. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said laconically, snatching up his jacket from the back of the chair and heading for the door. ‘I believe Monique included a Valentino evening gown
in the collection. Wear that tonight,’ he ordered, and he stepped into the corridor and slammed the door behind him without giving her the chance to argue further.
Tahlia worked off her fury at Thanos’s high-handedness by swimming thirty lengths in the private pool. When she returned to the bedroom she discovered that the maid had unpacked the clothes and hung them in the wardrobe: beautiful classical evening dresses, elegant trousers, skirts and tops, all with matching shoes and accessories, and a variety of exquisite nightgowns and sets of lacy underwear which were nothing like the plain cotton bras and knickers she usually wore.
Presumably Thanos believed that as he was paying for her he could indulge in a typical male fantasy of seeing her in flimsy scraps of silk and lace, she thought dully as she held up a low-cut black basque complete with silk ribbons which laced up at the front. In different circumstances she would have taken huge delight in a cupboard full of designer outfits, but the knowledge that Thanos had bought them emphasised the fact that she was—as he had pointed out—here to please him.
The Valentino dress was stunning, she was forced to admit later, after she had taken a leisurely bath and smoothed fragrant body lotion onto her skin before dressing for the party. The heather-coloured silk gown left her shoulders bare and clung lovingly to her waist and hips, the side-split in the skirt reaching to mid-thigh. It was the most daring dress she had ever worn, and as she stared at her reflection in the mirror she barely recognised the sultry seductress looking back at her as sensible Tahlia Reynolds.
Thanos walked into the bedroom as she was spraying perfume to her pulse points. She guessed he must have used the spare bedroom as a dressing room, because he had changed into a black dinner suit which emphasised his lean length and the formidable width of his shoulders. She hated the way her heart jerked as her gaze skittered over the chiselled beauty of his face.
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