His Mistress by Blackmail

by Maya Blake

  The door opened behind her and Ashley, a fellow dancer, entered. She looked on the verge of tears. ‘Heads up—Melissa has had a personality transplant overnight. And it’s not made her a better version of her original diabolical self,’ she snapped, then burst into tears.

  Consoling the distraught girl momentarily put a lid on her own nerves and on the late-night conversation with Xandro that she couldn’t get out of her head. More than anything, she was grateful she didn’t have to dwell on her body’s reaction to Xandro’s proximity or the evocative images that her suddenly rampant imagination had conjured up when he’d spoken of lovers and liaisons.

  After her single, disappointing foray into a relationship three years ago when she’d first arrived in Washington, DC, she’d swiftly concluded she was better off pursuing the thing she loved most to the exclusion of all else. Dating, casually or otherwise, had been placed on a back burner that hadn’t been lit since.

  But last night, with a few words spoken in his deep, faintly accented voice, Xandro had sparked something inside her. Something unsettling enough to disrupt her sleep. Disturbing enough to have made her wonder, for a single insane moment, what it would’ve been like not to cut herself off so completely from any deeper interaction with the opposite sex. Perhaps even get involved with a man like Xandro?

  No. Never him.

  He was manipulative and controlling. And she’d gone to great lengths to distance herself from those who wanted to clip her wings. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Xandro was growing more impatient and ruthless the longer Ben remained elusive. The fact he hadn’t stopped at buying an interest in Hunter’s but had gone for a controlling interest spoke volumes about his need to control everything and everyone around him.

  Even if there weren’t battle lines drawn between them, she’d sought this position at Hunter’s long before Xandro Christofides had come along. She’d woken up this morning determined to fight for what she wanted. If the final outcome was truly up to Melissa, then Sage wasn’t going to let Xandro drive her away. Nor did she intend to lose her focus for the sake of giving in to the extra curious butterflies running wild in her belly.

  She’d barely managed to calm Ashley down before another dancer entered the room and signalled to her. ‘You’re up, Sage.’

  A deep breath and a ‘break a leg’ from Michael, and she was entering the ballroom where the choreographers were waiting.

  She noticed his absence immediately.

  The tight knot gripping her belly unfurled. But only for a moment because Melissa’s narrowed eyes were trained on her, her mouth pinched in a displeased line. Whatever had put the ex-dancer in a filthy mood was still very much present. Sage was wondering whether the enigmatic Greek magnate had anything to do with it, and berating herself yet again for thinking about the man, when Melissa spoke sharply.

  ‘Miss Woods, I’m changing things up a little. This morning we’ll be testing your improvisation skills. Some routines have been lengthened, others have been shortened. Your seven minutes have been reduced to four and a half. Use that time wisely.’

  Despite her nerves, Sage suppressed a smile. At least something was going her way. The churning inside her subsided as she flicked through her music selection, and set her MP4 player in the provided dock. A slow steady breath filled her lungs with not just oxygen but serenity.

  Thoughts of Xandro receded.

  Thoughts of her parents and their callous indifference to her bullying retreated to a small space at the back of her mind.

  Even the faint ache in her wrist that she’d woken up with faded away as she immersed herself in the one place that she would give her heart and soul to for ever.

  The strains of Vivaldi’s operetta filtered through the room, mercifully blanking her mind of everything else but the one thing that had made perfect sense to her the moment she’d stepped into Mrs Krasinky’s drama class in high school.

  Her parents had accused her of being melodramatic when she’d told them dancing was the only reason she got out of bed in the morning. The alternative had been to give up and let her torturers win. She’d tried and lasted for a day. The ache of not dancing had driven her back to Mrs K’s class the next day. Before she was done with practice, she’d known it was her life and her lifeline.

  Ben had supported that belief. Encouraged her to nurture her talent while placing himself as a solid wall between her and their parents’ escalating pressure. Even then, more than a few barbs had slipped through.

  ‘Dancers are born, not made. If you were any good you wouldn’t need to practise fourteen hours a day.’

  ‘One day, when this frivolous whim is over, you’ll regret that you didn’t honour your responsibilities to this family. Don’t expect us to welcome you back with open arms.’

  Accepting that years of devoting her life to dancing was still seen as just a passing fancy had hurt like hell. Their actions when she’d needed them most had caused even more anguish because it’d forced her to make a painful decision. To walk away.

  But she’d done so believing it was a better option than staying in Virginia to be consumed by bitterness.

  At least when she was dancing the pain wasn’t so bad. And she even managed to forgive them a little bit more for not being there for her. For not believing in her.

  A light sheen of sweat had coated her skin and she was fighting for breath by the time she’d finished, but the joy and freedom she found in her dancing was worth every second. As was the affirmation that she was doing the right thing, no matter what her parents thought.

  ‘Bravo, Sage. On the off-chance Melissa is crazy enough to let you go, remember my job offer still stands.’

  ‘Leonard, you really are testing my last nerve,’ Melissa snapped.

  He waved her away and smiled at Sage. Although Sage smiled back, she cautioned herself not to count her chickens. She’d been down this road before, where half-baked promises were made and offers were hinted at, only to fall through in the end.

  ‘You may leave, Miss Woods.’

  ‘And we promise not to keep you in suspense for much longer,’ the English choreographer said, earning himself a dark look from Melissa.

  Sage re-joined the rest of the group on the terrace, where breakfast was laid out. She was polishing off her scrambled eggs on toast when a member of staff informed them that Melissa wished to see them again. Varying expressions of hope and fear greeted the summons.

  Appetites lost, they hurried back into the ballroom, lining up as the three judges conferred for another minute.

  Finally, Melissa leaned forward, her gaze slashing over the crowd before she cleared her throat. ‘We’ve made a decision on the final six.’ And, with perfectly manicured fingers steepled before her, she reeled off the names.

  And, just like the night before, the news that she had made the cut, that she was finally a member of Hunter Dance Company, hit Sage with a mixture of elation, shock and dread.

  She’d done it.

  The single ambition she’d pushed herself to the limit of her endurance to achieve for the past three years had come to fruition. And yet the heavy stone wouldn’t move from her belly.

  The reason for that dread walked into the room one minute later.

  ‘Oh, hell. Here comes Mr Storm Cloud,’ Michael muttered with a grimace. ‘I don’t think he likes me very much.’

  ‘I think you’re overreacting,’ she offered feebly.

  ‘Really? Then why is he glaring at me right now?’

  She glanced at Xandro and, sure enough, his eyes were narrowed on Michael. Sage remained silent, her focus almost magnetically drawn to the tall, lithe figure striding to the only remaining seat in the room.

  Xandro was dressed less formally this morning. But although the dark cargo pants and white open-necked linen shirt were a contrast to the bespoke suit and tie he’d worn to dinner last night, the package was no less intimidating. No less visually captivating.

  With his broad shoulders, rugged looks and
an almost regal profile, the man carried himself like one of the many gods his homeland was famous for.

  Inwardly grimacing at herself for her runaway thoughts, she dragged her gaze to Melissa—who was smiling at Xandro as he took a seat next to her and leaned over to catch whatever she was saying to him.

  Sage was sure the sour taste in her mouth was due to the shock and nerves strangling her insides and not the mild jealousy the voice in her head suggested.

  ‘Allow me to officially add my congratulations and welcome you to Hunter Dance Company.’ His gaze travelled over the group, skated right over her as if she didn’t exist, as if their charged conversation last night hadn’t taken place, before he continued. ‘I have other business matters to attend to this morning but now you’re under the broader umbrella of my company, it’s right that we celebrate properly. Melissa will give you further details. I’ll demand your one hundred per cent commitment to future projects and you have my word that you will be well-rewarded in return.’ With a flicked glance at Melissa, who preened under the attention, he stood up again. ‘I look forward to seeing you all again very soon.’

  Sage was trying very hard to dig out the traps behind his words as he walked out, again without acknowledging her.

  Melissa sat back, toying with the ends of her teased blonde hair. ‘Before your curiosity eats you alive, the celebrations Xand... Mr Christofides referred to will take place at his hotel in Las Vegas in three weeks’ time. He’s throwing a party for the whole dance company and you’re all expected to attend. Full rehearsals won’t start for another month, but until then, you’ll be given routines to rehearse on your own. And that’s it. Pack your bags; we leave for the airport after lunch.’

  With the adrenaline high of their good news settling in, the noise levels rose. Sage forced herself to join in. She must have done a moderate job because she didn’t attract any puzzled glances. In fact she made it to her room in one piece, with a promise to join everyone for lunch.

  But as she undressed and headed for the shower, the smile she’d pinned on her face dissolved, leaving her eyes prickling with tears.

  Her greatest achievement. And she had no one to share it with because the only person who’d ever truly believed in her was still maintaining radio silence. With his mailbox still full, she couldn’t even leave Ben a message with her good news.

  Hot, bitter tears fell as the jets pummelled her body. She allowed them for a minute, before she furiously scrubbed them away. She’d drawn the line at having the rest of her life controlled.

  As much as it hurt to be alone right now, she wasn’t about to back down from following her dream.

  Helena, the affable and efficient housekeeper, was the first person she met when she went downstairs for lunch. She smiled, then eyed the case Sage had brought down with her before she indicated for Sage to follow her to the dining room.

  Sage frowned, wondering why she wasn’t heading for the terrace, where their lunch was normally served. She found out why when she walked in to find Xandro seated at the head of the table.

  A table set for two.

  He stood and muttered an instruction in Greek to his staff. The young man she’d seen around the villa approached and held out his hand to her. ‘Stavros will take your suitcase,’ Xandro said.

  ‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘So you can sit down and have lunch. Unless you intend to eat with one hand?’ he mocked.

  Sage pursed her lips but, short of snapping out another fiery response, she had no choice but to hand it over. Stannis left the room, shutting the door after him.

  She faced the man who, unlike this morning, was fully focused on her in a way that made those damned butterflies in her belly take wild flight again. ‘Why aren’t I eating out on the terrace with the others?’ Already she was beginning to feel isolated, singled out with a ruthless efficiency she’d known he was capable of.

  ‘Because I require privacy for our conversation. And also because your group left the island ten minutes ago to catch their plane back to the States.’

  About to sit down, she jumped back up. ‘What? No!’ She rushed to the nearest window. But of course the speedboat she’d heard from her room was nowhere in sight. Even from here she could see the jetty was empty. She whirled back to face him. ‘That’s unacceptable. You can’t do this.’

  His shrug was entirely self-assured. Utterly unapologetic. ‘And yet it’s done.’

  ‘Well, undo it. Call the captain. Tell him to come back. I want to leave this island. Right now.’ She was aware her voice held a sickening tremble, but the connotations of what he’d expertly orchestrated had left her feeling decidedly shaky. That silken net felt even tighter.

  ‘You will in good time, as soon as we’ve talked.’

  She paced back to the table, her insides congealing with dread she’d managed to hold at bay so far. But alongside it came anger fuelled by the unwillingness to play his game. ‘I’ve told you before: I don’t know where my brother is.’

  He watched her for a beat before he nodded. ‘I accept that you don’t. I’m not going to grill you further about his whereabouts,’ he stated.

  Her heart lurched. ‘Why not? Have you found him?’

  ‘No, I haven’t. Sit down, Sage.’

  Whether it was the sound of her name on his lips, or the notion that this game was about to take yet another twisted turn, she didn’t know. She took the chair he’d pulled out for her and accepted the glass of water he poured into her glass.

  He’d knocked her feet from under her by stranding her with him on the island, and he knew it.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked after he’d taken his own seat. She struggled but succeeded in keeping her voice steady despite the shakiness she felt.

  ‘We picked up your brother’s trail briefly, when he bought a first-class ticket to Singapore,’ he replied.

  She frowned. Watching his face, it occurred to her that something wasn’t quite right still. ‘Singapore? He doesn’t know anyone there.’

  His shrug was relaxed but the look on his face was scarily rigid. It was almost as if he was barely holding himself together. ‘Whether he does or not doesn’t matter now. My men lost his trail again.’

  Her stomach hollowed. ‘Why are you telling me this? And why are you keeping me here? I can’t tell you what his next move will be because I don’t know.’

  He didn’t answer immediately. Probably because he was still caught up in whatever Machiavellian thought process he’d designed to get his own back. But then Helena walked in bearing a large bowl of salad and a platter of meze dishes. Xandro sat back in his chair, sipping the white wine he’d poured as his housekeeper dished out the food onto their plates.

  Sage was biting her lip to keep from blurting her impatience when Helena finally smiled and left the room.

  ‘Eat, Sage,’ Xandro instructed, his voice a deep rumble that drew an unwanted shiver deep in her belly.

  She looked down at the plate of food she would’ve taken pleasure in devouring had a stone of dread not wedged itself in her stomach. ‘You think I have an appetite after what you’ve just done?’ she demanded.

  ‘All I’ve done is delay your departure from the island.’

  ‘You did it without telling me. I hate being manipulated, Mr Christofides.’

  He took another sip of his wine. ‘Yes, you said that before.’

  ‘Well, perhaps you should heed it because any cooperation I would’ve considered giving you is now gone for good.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Her hand curled into a fist. ‘You may find that perfectly acceptable in your world, but I won’t jump through any more of your hoops. Especially when you’ve trapped me here, knowing very well I don’t have the first idea how to get off your damn island unless I swim—what—ten miles?’

  ‘Fifteen,’ he supplied smoothly. ‘But it won’t come to that unless you remain stubborn. And you forget that I warned you I would make use of any tool at my disposal. This
is merely one of them. Now, it would please me if you ate something. Only then will we have a civilised conversation.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ This time her voice was a shaky mess of anger and hopeless frustration, the knowledge that she was right where she hated most, in someone else’s overbearing control, raking raw fingers through her.

  ‘Extremely. You have a few demanding weeks ahead of you.’

  Sage couldn’t tell whether he was referring to her professional or personal life. She told herself it was the need to curtail her temper and keep her wits about her that was preventing her from exploding. If she’d learned anything about Xandro Christofides, it was that even though he had a burning need to be reunited with his possession, which was evident every time he spoke of it, he was also infuriatingly patient in playing the long game.

  Right now he was tucking into his meal, helping himself to shrimp saganaki with rice, followed by lamb and herb meatballs, as if he had all the time in the world.

  There was nothing to be achieved by ranting and raving. Not when he was her only means of getting off the island. So she forced herself to take a few bites of food, washed down with water after she’d refused wine.

  When her plate was half-cleared she set down her cutlery. ‘Explain to me what’s going on.’ Her voice emerged firmer this time, much to her relief.

  He twirled his wineglass, looking down into the golden depths for several seconds before he directed his gaze to her.

  ‘I kept you here because your phone records show that he’s due to get in touch with you soon. When he does I need you to talk to him. Convince him that he’s better off coming back to the States to deal with me.’ Again she heard that hint of the unknown in his voice.

  ‘You’ve already tried to talk to him, haven’t you?’