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

by Clare Connelly

  Saphire shook her head. “No. I’ve just seen Jordan. It’s all happened very quickly.”

  Another nod. “What happened?”

  She sighed. “You and mum were right,” she said finally. “We should never have got married. I was too stubborn to see it.”

  He pulled a face. Something wasn’t adding up. “So you and Jordan just decided …”

  “Yes,” she nodded. “It was mutual. Amicable.” She leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee. “And I don’t want this to have any impact on his career path here.”

  Angus’s laugh was a deep, booming noise that resonated through to Linda. “Hell, I’ll promote him if you’re finally rid of the wanker.”

  “Daddy!” Saphire stared at her father in surprise, but a smile quirked at the corners of her lips. “I knew you didn’t like him.”

  “Of course I don’t. He’s an arrogant prick. I’ve come across my fair share of Jordans in my time, all of them with that same pretty-boy sense of entitlement. He doesn’t understand you, Saphire. You’re an ornament to him. Nothing more.”

  Saphire’s breath caught in her throat. “Why didn’t you ever say this to me before?”

  “I wanted to, but your mother thought we’d push you away.”

  Saphire nodded. “I mean it, though. I don’t want this to be bad for him, career wise. You know he wants to get into politics.”

  “Saff, he might be an arrogant prick, and I might think he’s a thoroughly worthless son-in-law, but he’s got a brilliant legal mind. I would never have let him progress in the company if it wasn’t warranted.”

  She grinned. “Good. I’m glad.”

  “A divorce, hey? I suppose it’s inappropriate to ask you to join me for a champagne.”

  She laughed, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

  “Another time. I’ve got a plane to catch.”

  Though London had been warm, Athens was even more so. The heat was stifling, with barely a breeze to offer even a hint of relief.

  Saphire fanned herself with the magazine she’d lifted from the aeroplane. KONSTANIDES was emblazoned proudly across the front page. She knew that if she opened the picture, Thaddeus’s face would greet her.

  So she didn’t.

  It had taken a lot of fast-talking and phone calls to confirm where he was, but she’d done it. In some ways, Saphire wished it was anywhere else. Being back in Greece was sending shards of anxiety through her.

  How could she be here and not know how he felt? How could she be here and not have the freedom of going to the island?

  Impatience was a whip at her back. He was somewhere in that building. She stared at the monolith with growing need, and, as she’d done earlier that day, she skipped across the street. This time, though, happiness increased with every movement.

  Thaddeus.

  Her whole body clenched as she thought of him.

  The foyer was elegant and modern. She crossed it and hit the button. She knew from the last phone call that his office was on the seventeenth floor. Butterflies were flittering through her.

  The doors pinged opened and she put a hand on her stomach to quell the anxiety.

  A man in a suit was sitting behind a timber desk. He spoke in Greek, his smile welcoming.

  “I’m sorry,” a little line furrowed between her brow. “Do you speak English?”

  “Of course,” his smile didn’t falter.

  “Good.” Her own smile was unknowingly dazzling. “I don’t have an appointment, but would you mind letting Thad — Mr Konstanides — know that Saphire Arana is here?”

  The receptionist’s look was slightly quizzical. “Oh,” his smile faltered. “I’m sorry madam, I know Mr Konstanides has meetings all day.”

  “That’s okay,” she nodded. “I can wait. Only please let him know that I’m … that I am … waiting,” she finished lamely.

  Something in her manner moved him and so he lifted his headset and punched his boss’s extension into it.

  Thaddeus’s voice was a gruff, impatient growl. “Yes?” He spoke in his native language.

  “Sir,” the receptionist’s eyes lifted to the beautiful English woman. “I have a Saphire Arana here for you.”

  There was a short pause as Thaddeus processed this. “On the phone?”

  “No, sir. In reception.”

  “Where?”

  “Here. In Athens. In reception.”

  Thaddeus, in the midst of examining the annual budget, hadn’t had a minute to himself for days. He’d travelled to Paris, and back again, and he’d worked non-stop ever since. But in those brief moments when he’d been free to do so, he’d thought about Saphire. Only the certainty that missing her would be the end of him had encouraged him to get back to his normal life.

  “I see,” he said, stalling.

  “Yes, sir,” the receptionist waited for further instructions, his eyes not meeting Saphire’s. The hope there was too obvious.

  “Please tell Mrs Arana that her trip is wasted. I cannot see her.”

  “Today?”

  “At all. Please remind her that our business is concluded.”

  It was juvenile and cutting, but Thaddeus slammed the phone down with satisfaction. Who did she think she was, coming to see him after rejecting him so callously? She’d gone back to her husband. She’d made her choice. And her choice hadn’t been him.

  Thaddeus Konstanides was not a man to beg. And yet he’d begged her. He’d begged Saphire again and again and still she’d left him.

  For him. Jordan Arana.

  The thought kept swirling in his brain, but his body was on fire. Every nerve ending was screaming at him to stand up and run to her. There were only walls between them. She was somewhere in his building, waiting for him.

  He groaned, and pushed back in his chair, squeezing his eyes shut. He could see her as clearly as if she was before him.

  Anger flared in his gut. How dare she try to see him? What could she have wanted? Briefly, he hoped that she had come to tell him she’d made a mistake. Only he’d seen the determination in her eyes for himself. He discounted the possibility as fantasy and reached for his phone once more.

  Before meeting Saphire, Thaddeus had enjoyed an active social life.

  He had a nice database of dates he could use to clear her from his memory banks.

  And that’s what she deserved.

  To be purged from his mind as she’d purged him from her life.

  10

  For the second time in a matter of weeks, Saphire could only stare as another woman moved her hands over a man that she considered herself to be in love with.

  This time, the couple weren’t in bed.

  They were standing on the sidewalk.

  They weren’t making love. Yet it was so much worse. They were laughing, his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his fingers moving with casual familiarity over her bare shoulder.

  The woman was stunning.

  Supermodel stunning.

  Her hair was jet black, her eyes enormous, her skin tanned brown. She was tall and slim with breasts that were almost completely revealed by the scandalously low-cut dress she wore.

  All that waiting, waiting and hoping, for this?

  Saphire’s cheeks flamed with mortification. Her stomach churned. Her heart broke.

  God, he looked good. Her body was thrumming in silent admission of his mastery over her. Her fingers itched to reach out and touch him.

  He was too far away.

  Saphire swallowed and blinked down at her iPhone. It was almost midnight. And they were returning to his Athens penthouse.

  It didn’t take a genius to guess what was next on the agenda.

  Saphire groaned silently and stood up straighter. Worse than knowing how easily he’d put her from his mind was the embarrassment of letting him know that she’d witnessed it for herself.

  Tears stung her eyes and she didn’t bother wiping them away. It was dark; no one was looking at her.

/>   She spun around and checked in both directions for traffic before stepping onto the road. At that moment, a bus jerked out from a stop and had to slam on its brakes to avoid hitting her. The impatient driver leaned into his horn, his brows beetling at the sight of the slim woman right in the middle of the road.

  Thaddeus’s attention was caught by the noise and Saphire turned around at the exact same moment he looked up. Their eyes connected and barbed shock crashed from one to the other. She swore softly and moved quickly off the road, then further down the footpath, away from him. She walked fast; running was beneath her.

  “Saphire.” His voice wasn’t raised, but it was commanding enough.

  Tears were sliding down her cheeks. She let them fall. One foot in front of the other.

  A sob tore through her chest. She swallowed it.

  “Saphire.” His hand curled around her arm and he pulled her to face him.

  She couldn’t look at him. Her breathing was wretched.

  “What are you doing here?” He demanded, refusing to feel pity for her. He hated seeing her cry though. He longed to comfort her. But he wouldn’t, ever again.

  “I … what do you think?” She responded, her words watery.

  “I have no clue.” He pursed his lips. “I presume my receptionist told you I was not available to see you.”

  “Yeah, no, I know.” She swallowed. “I got it. I just thought …”

  “What?” His eyes narrowed. “How do you even know where my apartment is?”

  Her cheeks flamed. This was going from bad to worse. She no longer felt that she was simply a lover he’d cast aside, but also like a stalker now too.

  “I googled you,” she mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut on the admission.

  “You googled me?” His response rang with icy distaste.

  It spurred her to defensiveness. “I needed to talk to you and I only realized once I got home that I didn’t even have your number.”

  “No,” he drawled, hardening his heart.

  “But you’re a … you’re a … person of public interest, I guess. There were photos of you here. At this apartment.” She squeezed her eyes shut again and fidgeted her hands behind her back. “Once I knew you were working from your Athens office I guessed you’d come home eventually.” I just hadn’t realized you wouldn’t be alone.

  “Like some kind of Macgyver?”

  She might have laughed if her feelings weren’t so completely tangled.

  “What do you want, Mrs Arana?”

  Another sob clawed at her throat. Her eyes moved beyond Thaddeus to the glamorous woman still on the opposite side of the street, watching with undisguised interest. Saphire’s cheeks burned.

  “Can we speak privately?” She asked self-consciously.

  He followed her gaze and then turned back to Saphire, his expression one of unconcealed impatience. “I’m on a date.”

  It was like a knife stabbing through her heart. “Why are you being such a bastard?” She murmured, anguish obvious in her features.

  “Why do you care so much?” He retorted. “You are married, remember? What difference does it make to you who I am screwing when you have your husband to keep you warm?” He leaned closer, his face only inches from her. “Tell me, Saphire, what did he think of my name on your back?”

  “I didn’t … we didn’t …” She rubbed her fingertips against her temples. “It’s not like that. It’s not like I was going to go back and act as though everything was normal.”

  Thaddeus felt a swelling of satisfaction at the hints she was dropping. “You haven’t slept with him,” he prompted, suddenly desperate for clarification.

  “I don’t know if that’s any of your business,” she whispered, her eyes again moving betrayingly to his date.

  “Fine. Have it your way. It’s none of my business. So why are you waiting outside my apartment in the middle of the night?”

  “I thought we should talk,” she said, so softly he barely caught the words.

  “We already have.” He pulled away from her and stuffed his hands in his pocket. His body language spoke of a finality that chilled her.

  “Is this really over for you, Thaddeus?”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Of course it is, Saphire. Over as if it had never begun. Do not torment yourself looking for something I am not willing to offer.”

  She swallowed; her throat felt coated in acid. “I thought we were in love,” she whispered shakily, her eyes beseeching.

  “Love?” He laughed angrily. “You are married. You used me to fix your marriage. You used me then went back to your husband.”

  “I didn’t use you,” she promised urgently.

  Thaddeus cast a glance over his shoulder and waved at his date. “I do not have time for this now.”

  Stones dropped inside of Saphire’s heart. “It’s important.”

  “No.” He breathed out impatiently so that his nostrils flared. “If it had been important you would have stayed.”

  “I couldn’t,” she sobbed. “I had to go back.”

  “Fine.” He shrugged. “And you made that choice. So live with it.”

  “Please,” she raised her voice; it shook with emotion. “I love you.”

  He shook his head. “And?” He prompted, his emotion impossible to comprehend.

  “I love you, and I want to be with you.” She reached for him but he shrugged away from her.

  “You’re married.”

  “I’m getting a divorce.” Her eyes scanned his, looking for some sign of relief. Some indication that he welcomed this news. It wasn’t forthcoming.

  “That is your business,” he said finally.

  Saphire tried to catch her breath but it was almost impossible. “You don’t love me.”

  Thaddeus packed every little piece of his heart away. She had shown how she valued him when she’d walked away from him. All of this was just an afterthought. His face was dark. “I loved sleeping with you.” His smile was cruel. “But now I have her.”

  Saphire let the sob ring through her. She lifted her hand and slapped him hard across the cheek but he didn’t so much as flinch. Her fingers stung. Good. The pain suited her emotion.

  “I love you,” she cried, and now she let the tears fall freely.

  Thaddeus watched her with a growing sense of urgency. If he didn’t get away from her, he couldn’t have said what he’d do. “Was there anything else?”

  Saphire bit down on her lip and tried her hardest to marshal her thoughts into some kind of order. “I guess … I guess not.”

  Thaddeus had no idea what was happening to him. His blood was burning. His head was swimming. He stood still like a statue, staring after her as she walked down the deserted street. He worried for her. For her safety, for her happiness, for all of her. But he didn’t act on that worry. He watched and waited for her to turn the corner and then he squared his shoulders and crossed the street. Cassandra was waiting.

  Saphire surveyed the room with satisfaction. Everything was perfect. Well, almost everything. With a frown of disapproval, she clipped across the marble floor and straightened a stray white rose back into position. The ballroom high on a hill outside Rome boasted stunning glimpses down towards il Vaticano, and its many cupolas. She took a moment to appreciate the vista, kissed by purples and oranges, and then forced a smile to her face.

  It felt just as false as it had been for the past month.

  A month.

  She swallowed; the acid was still there. Would it ever go away? Would she ever feel like herself again? Or would she forever feel like a woman who’d only come to life briefly, in Thaddeus’s arms, and never would again?

  Her cell phone began to buzz in her pocket; she answered it gratefully.

  “Mel?” She frowned. Her boss’s usual army-sergeant tone was hoarse. “You sound terrible.”

  “I feel terrible,” Mel clipped. “I have a chest infection and severe tonsillitis, allegedly.”

  Saphire liked how she said tha
t, as though the doctor perhaps made up the diagnosis for his own amusement. “You were okay yesterday.”

  “That’s what I said,” Mel responded. “But I really do feel like utter shite.”

  “Terrible timing,” Saphire murmured.

  “I need you to run things for me at the event,” Mel cut straight to the chase.

  Saphire froze in the middle of the glorious ballroom. “You’re not serious?”

  “Of course I am. I can’t cough all over the crème de la crème of European society. You’ve been doing these things for years. You’ve got a knack for this stuff.”

  Saphire nodded, but her mind was spinning. “I’m just an administrative assistant,” she reminded the woman. After all, Melania Brompton had founded the charity and built it up from scratch. No way could Saphire step into her shoes, even for a night.

  “So? Do you need a raise?”

  “No, that’s not what I meant,” Saphire said with consternation.

  “Why not?” Repeated coughing had weakened Mel’s voice. “You’ve been faffing around doing volunteer work for years. Now you’ve finally accepted a paid role and it’s way below your skillset. Why?”

  “I don’t think it is way below my skillset,” she demurred frankly. “And this is not the time to be talking about it. You need to rest your voice.”

  “See? You’re even bossing me around,” Melania pointed out teasingly. “We will talk about this in a few days. I want you on board permanently. I have a knack for knowing which people are right for my business. And I know I need you. Think about it.”

  Saphire bit down on her lip. “I will.”

  “I have my personal assistant lined up to take my place in the auction tonight. Have you met Kate?”

  Saphire nodded, frowning. She had a vague recollection of a softly spoken blonde with pale skin and enormous blue eyes. “She seems sort of quiet …”

  “She is sort of quiet,” Melania agreed. “Probably why she agreed to this. Though I’ll admit I didn’t give her much of a chance to say no. Anyway, get her a champagne when she arrives. Poor thing’s a bag of nerves.”

  “Right.”