Billionaires: They're powerful, hot, charming and richer than sin...

by Clare Connelly

  “Well?” His voice was almost a growl.

  “Well,” she shaped her mouth around the same word, her eyes lifting to his. It was as though she had been singed. There was something so powerfully, ferociously hot in his look, and Sophie wasn’t sure she was equal to it.

  “You are not going to lie to me after all?”

  Sophie was lurching uncertainly. She had limited experience with the opposite sex, and absolutely zero clue with a man like Alex. “I … don’t know what you want me to say.”

  His laugh was a soft, teasing sound. He ran a thumb over her lower lip, and his eyes chased after it. His body was close to hers. So close she could feel his warmth and smell his intoxicating fragrance.

  “I hardly know you,” she whispered desperately.

  “So?” He dropped his hand to the collar of her shirt and traced the stitching. When his fingers moved close to the dip of her breasts, she drew in a shuddering breath.

  “Alessandros.” Step back! She needed to put some distance between them. Only her hips swayed forward and her eyes fluttered closed.

  They were long lashes, dark and curled. Alex stared at her face, and felt a swift jab of compunction for her youth. But this woman could not continue in his sister’s home if she harboured feelings for Eric. It was unacceptable.

  And it was Alex’s job, as had been divined by birth and circumstance, to make sure Helena was kept from harm.

  “I will not kiss you here, agape mou, for I do not trust that I can control myself to stop.”

  Sophie’s heart turned over in her chest. How she wanted him to kiss her! The very idea was terrifying, and sobering. She could not get involved with a man such as this. Oh, for so many reasons, it would be wrong, wrong, wrong. He was her boss’s brother! And a well known womaniser to boot. It would muddy the waters terribly if she allowed herself this indulgence.

  But what an indulgence it would be.

  She almost groaned when she imagined what it would be like to be kissed by him. For he was strong and confident and most definitely knew how to please a woman.

  “That’s probably a good idea,” she said, relief in her voice that he, at least, was going to be strong enough for both of them.

  “Oh, I’m going to kiss you.”

  Her eyes flared and her stomach rolled.

  “Not here though.” He put his hand around her shoulders and pulled her gently with him. His walk was faster now, and she had to stride quickly to keep up. It was not far to go though; he paused just outside the house at the corner.

  “This is yours?” She asked in surprise.

  He nodded. “I bought it when they married.”

  “To be close to Helena?” She guessed, remembering Eric’s assessment that Alex was a meddlesome, overbearing brother.

  “Of course to be close to her. And to give her somewhere to stay if it didn’t work out.”

  Sophie slanted a curious gaze up at him, but he was pushing the door inwards.

  “Surely Helena doesn’t need you to fight her battles for her.” The last few words of her statement were lost in the crush of his mouth to hers. He pushed her back against the front door and held her there with his lips alone. His tongue was demanding and Sophie felt her knees going weak with a deluging surge of need. Her insides were slick with heat. She moaned deeply in her throat and lifted her hands to his chest.

  He was just as firm to touch as she had known he would be. Firm, strong and warm. Up close he smelled of spice and summer. He was electrifying.

  “Alex,” it was a passionate cry into his mouth but he didn’t release her. Instead, he brought his hands to her back and curled them possessively inside the waistband of her jeans, to cup her naked rear. Sophie hadn’t been touched so intimately in a long time, if ever. Her one and only boyfriend had been a spectacularly unimpressive Rohin Smith, from the same little Margaret River school she’d gone to. They’d fumbled around a few times and that had culminated in a very brief coming together, followed by another attempt a week later.

  Beyond that, Sophie was an absolute novice.

  “Alex!” She pulled her mouth away with effort, and dipped her head forward. She was panting, not from exertion but from the sheer strength of her desire.

  The slight darkening along his chiselled cheekbones showed that he was not immune from the power of their kiss.

  Sophie tried again. “Alex, I can’t get involved with you.”

  “Can’t you?” He murmured, lifting her shirt up to her neck. With a look of frustration, Sophie reached her fingertips to the sky, so that he could remove it completely. Her bra was a sensible, plain cotton piece; certainly not the lace and silk lingerie he was used to on his women, and yet he found it totally alluring.

  “What were you saying?” He murmured deeply, as he bent one scrap of fabric aside to reveal a perfect, pert breast.

  Sophie gasped as his fingers ran over her nipple possessively. “That you’re related to my employers. And that I hardly know you. I can’t do this with you.”

  Alex took her nipple in his mouth and rolled it with his tongue, before pressing his teeth against it lightly. Just enough to sear a sharp wave of painful longing through her. “Do you want me to stop?”

  Sophie was hot and cold; pins and needles were in her body and soul.

  And Alex understood. He knew the effect he was having on her. He knelt before her and undid her jeans, but he only slid them down to her knees, so that she was virtually imprisoned against the door. He quickly brought his mouth back to her breast, and his fingers he drifted lower, to her most intimate core.

  “Do you want me to stop?”

  Sophie felt a shudder of delirium as he moved one long finger inside her silky, wet centre.

  “Alex?”

  “So-phie,” he teased, his accent thicker than normal as he transferred his mouth to her other breast. He tasted her through the fabric of her bra, and Sophie cried out impatiently.

  “Please,” she whimpered, her fingers digging sharply into his shoulders.

  “Please?” He repeated, slipping another finger inside her. She bucked against him, hard, but her jeans were limiting her movement. He grinned and lifted her over his shoulder thinking that she was like his very own mermaid.

  Only far, far more beautiful, and infinitely more dangerous.

  His room was upstairs, but he was too impatient for that. He took her to his study instead, and lay her down on the rarely-used desk.

  “This is cold,” she surprised him by laughing.

  Her laugh was a beautiful, sweet sound. Her face was beautiful and sweet too.

  But she was not. At least, he was pretty sure she wasn’t. The flash of doubt wasn’t welcome. He disregarded it.

  “You’ll survive.”

  His tone was cold and it surprised her. She blinked up at him, but before she could question his meaning, he reached behind her and unclipped her bra, freeing her breasts into his broad hands. He held them and moved his body over hers, so that his arousal was intimately connected with her, despite the pants he wore.

  Sophie lifted her hips, but her jeans were still wrapped around her ankles and she couldn’t get as close to him as she wanted. She went to pull a leg free but he shook his head.

  “No.”

  “No?” Her voice was puffed. She was breathless from desire.

  He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to seduce her. He wanted to make her beg for him, over and over again.

  He wanted her to fall in love with him.

  To fall so hard, so spectacularly, that she would do anything he asked of her.

  Including quit her job and never speak to Eric again.

  His smile hid a cold sense of determination.

  He undressed quickly, pausing only to protect them from unwanted consequences, and then he took possession of her body. She was ready for him, and yet when he swiftly pushed into her, she cried out. Her voice was a tremulous throb in the silence of his house.

  “You are okay?” He checked, strok
ing her cheek.

  Tears sparkled in her eyes and she nodded, dragging her lower lip between her teeth. Her cheeks were flushed. And as he looked into her face, he knew. No one had made her feel like that.

  She was his already.

  The power was a beast; a seductive mistress for it made him feel God-like.

  He moved slowly, feeling his way, and watching her constantly, to see what pleased her most. When Sophie was almost manic with need, he stopped teasing her and returned to what she loved most.

  She released herself almost instantly, and he held her while she fell apart, whispering words in his native tongue until she slowly regained her breathing. But he wasn’t done with her yet. He began to move once more, thrusting powerfully into her, this time rough and hard, and she bucked even harder against him and screamed in surprised pleasure.

  He dug his fingers into her buttocks and when she began to spiral out of control for a second time, he followed after her, releasing himself with a guttural cry.

  Their breath combined in the air as a strangled sound of agreement.

  That had been earth-shattering.

  And for Alex, it had been necessary.

  He had done it.

  He had physically possessed her; but that wasn’t enough. He needed all of her, for good, to make sure she would stay out of Helena’s way. And so he did not pull away from her and put some distance between them, as he usually did with his conquests.

  This was a game, and he had to play his part.

  “You are every bit as perfect as I had hoped.”

  Sophie’s eyes fluttered shut and she lifted a hand to her neck. The fingers were not steady and her throat was pink from his stubble. “I don’t think I understand what just happened.”

  Sex. Sex had just happened. For the first time in her life, Sophie had just done something she’d always sworn she wouldn’t. She’d slept with a man she knew nothing about, just because he was gorgeous. She’d thrown caution to the wind and … and … fucked. Or been fucked. She didn’t know which.

  “Oh, God.” She covered both eyes with her hands and shook her head slowly from side to side. He was still inside of her, but mortification was beginning to take over any sense of lust she’d been indulging.

  “Sophie, what is the matter?”

  Even the way he said her name turned her insides to mush. She had never been so utterly vulnerable to a man as she was now, to this man.

  “I can’t believe that just happened.” She kept her eyes shut beneath the veil of her hands. “What the hell was I thinking?”

  “You weren’t thinking,” he teased. “You were feeling.”

  “Oh, stop. You’re making it worse. Please, please get off me.”

  He laughed softly, but did as she’d requested.

  “Oh, God.”

  Her guilt and shame were obvious, and he had a sinking feeling that he understood what motivated those emotions. She had, after all, just cheated on her lover. And it had been spectacular.

  “What we did is not wrong, agape mou.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she groaned. “You do this all the time.”

  He pushed aside the statement. “And you don’t?”

  “No!” She said it with such venom that he stilled. His hands were running down her arms, bringing her slowly back to life. But her guilt was too difficult to assuage. She was upset.

  He sighed and did as she’d asked, moving away from her. The instantaneous emptiness that filled him was a surprise.

  “You do not have sex?”

  “No!” She shook her head, her eyes still winched shut.

  “You were not a virgin.” He grinned down at her, genuinely amused by the picture she made. Somehow he doubted she had any idea how utterly ravishing she looked, stretched naked across his desk with her eyes shut and her lips pouted.

  “No, but I don’t know you. I mean, I hardly know you. And you’re just the kind of man I try to avoid.”

  Because I’m not married, he wondered bitterly. “What is it about me that you try to avoid?”

  “Your experience.” The way she said the word, an insult was obviously implied, but he couldn’t fathom what it was.

  “Did my experience displease you in some way?”

  She risked blinking one eye open, and even with a single look was able to convey a sense of mockery. “This is not the time to seek praise for your skills.”

  “Ah,” he shrugged. “You are wrong there. It is always the time for a man to be complimented on how well he makes love to a beautiful woman.”

  “Stop!” She closed both eyes again. “You’re making it … So. Much. Worse.”

  She was the woman who was breaking up his sister’s marriage and yet he felt a lovely kernel of pleasure at this unexpected conversation. He moved back to her and gently glided her jeans up her legs. “I do not know what you feel is bad about our situation, but I should like to have dinner with you while you try to explain it to me.”

  Sophie’s sharp intake of breath showed her surprise. “You would?”

  “Ne.”

  “No?”

  “Ne is yes,” he admonished softly. “And if you are to raise two Greek boys, you should learn to speak some of the language.” He gripped her hands and pulled her gently to standing. “I will teach you.”

  Her eyes were enormous, and she stared at his face as though she were drowning. “You will?” For that implied so much more than what she was expecting from him.

  “Ne,” he grinned, and pressed a light kiss against the tip of her nose.

  “Alex.” But what did she want to say? What could she say? This was wrong. Or was it? It certainly felt a thousand shades of right. “What shall we eat?”

  3

  “Two sisters?” His look of disbelief was priceless. Then again, Alex had led his life to that point looking out for Helena. The idea of multiplying his worry and responsibilities was onerous indeed.

  Sophie shook her head dolefully. “Not just two sisters. Triplets.”

  “Triplets?” He expelled a long, slow whistle. “You mean somewhere in Australia there are two girls just as gorgeous as you walking around the outback?”

  Sophie laughed. “No.” The champagne was excellent; the food even more so. She’d always been a sucker for Indian and this little restaurant was the most authentic she’d tried. She fingered a pappadum thoughtfully. “We’re not identical. Though if you saw us together, you’d know we were related. And as for the outback, Olivia and Ava wouldn’t be seen dead there.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  Sophie screwed up her nose unconsciously as she thought of her sisters with the same lurching in her gut that always accompanied their absence. “They’re the most amazing women you can possibly imagine.”

  “Really?” He reclined in his chair, his expression indomitable. It was very easy for Sophie to see him then as the powerful, dynamic megalomaniac who’d amassed a global empire all on his own.

  “Really,” she confirmed, ignoring her dry mouth and racing heart.

  “How so?”

  “They’re just … the kind of women that you look at and think ‘wow’.” He looked at her with an expression of doubt. Did Sophie not know that she was similarly impressive? “Olivia is the flighty one. She’s beautiful and popular and footloose and fancy-free. She travels on a whim. She’s truly …”

  “Amazing?” He supplied with a teasing grin.

  She nodded and sipped her water.

  “What about the other one?”

  Sophie smiled when she thought of Ava. “Far more serious. Then again, she’s the responsible one. Despite the fact we’re triplets, Ava has always seemed older. She’s felt very free to boss Liv and me around from day one.” She shrugged. “But we’re happy to let her. She’s holding the business together at home now, while Olivia and I get to travel and have fun.”

  “The business?”

  Sophie’s eyes assumed a faraway expression. “Casa Celli.” She sighed wistfully. “Our vin
eyard.”

  “I don’t see you as the agricultural type.”

  She smiled distractedly. “I’m not. Hence my itchy feet as soon as I left school.” She shrugged. “But we grew up on the property. Mum ran it and produced some fantastic vintages before she … before we lost her.”

  Something like pain sharpened inside his gut. Alex ignored it. “When did she die?”

  Sophie winced. “I’m sorry. I don’t think like that. Even now I find it hard to accept that she’s gone.” She shook her head wistfully. “It was five years ago this Christmas.”

  “How?” Ever the businessman, he was focussed on the information he could obtain.

  “When mum wasn’t checking the vines for pests and sugar, she was diving.” When he didn’t speak, she continued, though she couldn’t meet his eyes for they reflected her own pain too clearly. “Our vineyards slope all the way to the sea. It’s the most stunning piece of land on Earth. I can’t begin to explain the glory and goodness of those hills.” She smiled as she recalled her youth. “My sisters and I used to run amongst the vines for hours on end, building cubby houses and pretending we were wayward fairies on our way to the faraway tree. It was an air-bubble-childhood.”

  Alex linked his fingers with hers. “An air bubble? What does this mean?”

  Sophie flickered her gaze to his chiselled face and then turned her focus back to the pappadum. “You know, an air bubble. Like life is the water and our childhood was that single, miraculous bubble, floating indefatigably amongst it. We were immune from everything. Sadness, responsibility, grief and worry.”

  He didn’t speak, but his dark eyes urged her to continue. “Mum was magical all the time, but at Christmas, she was like an angel on earth.” Her smile was unknowingly enigmatic. “She spent months preparing. We didn’t have a lot of money, growing up, so she’d have to order our presents early. They were never extravagant. Just a book we wanted or maybe a special dress.” She shrugged. “We’d decorate the tree together, all four of us. It would take a whole day and we’d listen to carols, singing along as we hung all of our favourite pieces.” Her fingers toyed with her hair. “Mum was American, and she’d brought a heap of very old ornaments over with her. They were glass, and so beautiful and fragile that they still make me all gooey to think of them today.”