Bartered to the Sheikh & Rakanti's Indecent Proposition (Clare Connelly Pairs Book 8)

by Clare Connelly

  It was warm in the kitchen but Elle began to shiver uncontrollably. Her stomach swooped as though she’d crested over the highest point on a rollercoaster and was now in free-fall. “What do you mean?” She asked in a weak attempt to buy some time. But it was futile. His information was perfectly accurate and they both knew it. “How did you find out?”

  “Your phone.”

  “You went through my phone?” She responded, numbed by shock.

  “No. A message came through in plain sight.” He drew his eyes closer together. “And I clarified it because I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer out of you.”

  She startled. “I … what message?”

  “About blackmailing me,” he hissed angrily. “I have never paid a woman for sex and I do not intend to start now.”

  She swallowed and twisted her fingers nervously in front of her. “It’s not like that. I can explain,” she promised, turning her back on him and moving slowly through the kitchen. She sat with a dejected slump on one of the stools. He didn’t follow her.

  “I doubt it. But tell me of your plan so that I may enjoy the joke before kicking you out of my home.”

  “Please … please don’t talk to me like that,” she implored numbly. “I know you’re angry. And you have every right to be.” She shook her head. “But I didn’t know what to do.”

  “So you spread your legs to get ahead? You seem intelligent enough to realise that is the very definition of prostitution.”

  “God, stop it,” she begged, her eyes enormous as she stared at him. But hadn’t she said as much to Hannah, when she’d first suggested this outrageous scheme? She felt nauseous. “Please stop staring at me like that. I just need a minute.”

  “You aren’t going to get a cent from me. I won’t give you that satisfaction. Say what you want in the press. Having a sexual appetite is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  “So? What am I missing? What were you going to say about me? Tell me everything immediately or get the hell out.”

  She stood up jerkily. She wanted to go. She wanted to get as far away from him as possible. Only thoughts of Filip kept her anchored to the spot. “We have something … or rather someone … in common.”

  He didn’t visibly react. He waited for her to speak, to continue the cryptic thought. It was probably a lie, anyway.

  “My brother is … he’s your brother too.”

  Christos stared at her as though she was certifiably mad. “Are you saying we’re related?” He demanded, disgusted by the very idea.

  “No. Oh my God. No. No!” She shook her head, similarly repulsed by the idea. “Not you and me. Him and me. You and him.”

  He stared at her waiting for the words to penetrate his brain.

  Miserably, Elle sat back down. “He and I share a mother. You and he … share a father.”

  “That isn’t possible,” he said after a beat had passed. “My father was devoted to my mother.” He thought of the myriad evidence he had of that; the way he had celebrated her not just on special occasions but every day. “Their marriage was almost sickening for its happiness.”

  “I don’t know anything about their relationship,” she said with a small twist of her lips. “But Filip is your brother.”

  “Filip?” He said in disgust. “You’re actually using my father’s name?”

  “I’m not using your father’s name,” she promised darkly. “My mother did that.”

  “This is absolute bullshit.” When he swore his accent was thicker. “It’s some elaborate lie and I’m not going to buy into it. You’re tarnishing my father’s reputation when he’s not here to defend himself. Theos, he’s not even cold in the ground.”

  She blanched with self-disgust. There was no denying the timing was terrible. If Filip Senior had paid the school feels more promptly then Elle might have had the luxury of waiting a decent time; she squirmed to think of arriving like a vulture to pick over the wealthy carcass. But she’d done what needs must, and with the ruin of what they’d shared at her feet, she could only focus on why she was there.

  “It’s not a lie,” she said quickly. “I can prove it.”

  “Oh?” His laugh was laced with scorn. “I would just love to see you try.”

  “Please, Christos, let me explain.” She sucked in a deep breath and simply for something to do with her hands, lifted her tea to her lips. It was lukewarm now but she didn’t care. “Your father insisted on a DNA test before he would pay a cent towards Filip.”

  At that, Christos froze. “You’re actually trying to tell me there is DNA evidence linking my father to this bastard?”

  With difficulty, she ignored the foul description of Filip. “Yes.” She nodded. Her eyes contained genuine sympathy as she looked at him. “Your father agreed to pay for my brother’s schooling, and that was all. He didn’t want his family knowing anything about this, and my mother was satisfied that the sum was sufficient.” Elle dipped her eyes from his. Oh, her mother would have liked more. So much more. But Filip Rakanti had been a horrible man and faced with school fees or nothing, she’d taken what she could get. “When my mom died … your father was worried, I guess, that I would tell the world about his love-child.”

  “None of this makes sense. If my father actually had another son, he would have been entitled to considerably more than paltry school fees.”

  “The school fees are definitely not paltry.” Elle’s cheeks flushed. “But yes, I know that. So did mom.”

  “But?” He tapped his fingers on the bench, a caustic tattoo sounding through the kitchen.

  “Your father said he would bury all his assets. That then my mom would get nothing, and Filip would always know how unwanted he was.” Her eyes sparkled with angry tears.

  Christos tried to listen to her words but his anger was intense. “And now your lie is shown for what it is. My father would never speak like that.”

  “He didn’t trust my mother would manage other funds wisely. So he paid the school fees himself, and that was the sum total of his involvement. Even when …” she bit off the rest of the sentence, desperately wanting to conceal the awful, tragic truth from this man and his hate-laced expression.

  “My father was a good man. You dare come here and speak of him in such a manner? To me? His only son?”

  Elle shook her head from side to side; her blonde hair, still wet, flung with her. “You aren’t,” she whispered. “Filip is your brother and I need your help. He needs your help.”

  “My help?” He responded sarcastically. He honed his mind back on the facts she’d asserted. Christos was methodical and focussed. He would not let her distract him from the main issues. “Why did my father believe you would ‘tell the world’, as you say?”

  Now it was her turn to laugh, a strangled sound of frustration and despair. “Because we were broke, Christos. We don’t all live like this.” She swept her hand around the kitchen scathingly. “Not everyone can buy million dollar pianos just because they wake up and decide to ‘collect beautiful things’.”

  He dismissed the implied criticism. “So my father did what exactly?”

  “He came to see me. Right after mom … after the accident.” She swallowed, wishing she could dispel the memories. “He made me sign a confidentiality agreement and agreed to pay for Filip’s schooling per the original agreement.”

  “You have a copy of this alleged contract?”

  She nodded. “He mailed one to me. Or his lawyer did.”

  “What was his lawyer’s name?”

  “Anna Tsolkios.”

  Christos was very, very still. It was a detail she could have got off the internet, along with the rest of it. But a crack of doubt appeared in his confidence. “So? Now he’s dead you want to con more out of his estate?”

  “No!” She shook her head. “It’s not like that.” She ran her finger over the marble bench top, her shoulders slumped forward. “Filip’s incredibly bright.” She shook her head. “I think he
’s probably a lot like you.”

  “Don’t,” he said the word with a quiet hatred; it was far scarier than if he’d shouted. “Don’t you dare compare this bastard to me.”

  She flinched at his words; the long silence that stretched between them was barbed with fury. “He’s your half-brother.”

  He swore in his own language, turning so that he was in profile to her. He planted his hands on his hips and breathed deeply, his mind swimming. “So why sleep with me?”

  She swallowed. The whole situation was mortifying. She bit down on her lip. “Does it matter?”

  He closed his eyes, disgusted with himself and with her. “Yes.”

  “I … I don’t know anymore.” She made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh. “I was terrified you’d say no to helping me.”

  “Why? Why did you think I would turn you away if you’d presented this to me? You say you have evidence. So why not make an appointment, bring your proof and allow me a chance to respond?”

  “I couldn’t risk it. Your father … he … I had asked him for help for … something other than school fees. He always made it obvious that he hated Filip. That he didn’t want to be supporting him at all. I thought you might feel the same and I needed … I don’t know. I don’t know what my plan was.” She shook her head angrily. “I just thought I could … that I needed some leverage.”

  “Leverage?” He scoffed. “To what end? Money? Is that really all you care about? What about your pride and self-respect?”

  She flinched. “He goes to Fjord Academy. It’s …”

  “I am familiar with it,” he cut her off impatiently.

  “Then you might also know that the fees are exorbitant.”

  “So change him to another school.”

  “I can’t do that to him!” She was exasperated and desperate. “He doesn’t deserve to suffer because no one loved him enough to make the right decisions.”

  Her words struck a chord and he spun around, enflamed to defend his deceased father. “You mean my father never cared enough, I presume? You are judging him for not loving a child some woman burdened him with?”

  “Not some woman,” Elle interjected with the appearance of calm, though it cost her dearly. “Some woman he slept with. What would you do if I got pregnant after last night?”

  He ignored the emotional response to such an idea, but immediately an image of her rounding out with his child in her stomach flashed before his eyes. “We used protection.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Accidents happen.”

  “Theos, is this your plan?”

  “No.” She felt sick at the idea. “Absolutely not. Don’t be disgusting. I would never do that.”

  “But your mother did?”

  Elle wished she could have denied it, but in truth, knowing her mother, it wasn’t such an easy proposition. “I don’t know,” she whispered finally. “It might have been a genuine accident. Maybe she hoped to get pregnant.”

  Christos made a noise of disapproval.

  “But he chose to sleep with her. This was both of their responsibilities. And he never owned it. What would you do? If that was me? Or another woman?”

  A muscle jerked in his cheek. A thousand memories swarmed him, threatening to bury him beneath their persistent weight. Learning to sail with his father, following him around the estate and listening to stories of his father’s father, swimming together. He thought of the father who had always attended important events in Christos’s life and shook his head. That man would never have turned his back on his own kin. “I will need to see this alleged DNA test.”

  It was something. “Of course. I can send a copy to you.”

  “Send a copy to me? From where.”

  “My flat. I … everything’s there.”

  “You didn’t think to bring it?” He asked scathingly.

  Feeling utterly stupid, she shook her head miserably.

  “Where is your flat?” He asked, the words grim.

  “New York.” She was surprised he hadn’t worked that much out for himself.

  There was a long beat of silence; his eyes locked to hers, his expression was inscrutable. Elle had spent the night with a man whose passions were written all over his face and body; in the breaths he whispered down her spine and the kisses he planted across her flesh. Now? He was a mystery to her. “Forget it.” The words were cold. “I don’t need it.”

  “Why not?” Panic stirred inside of her. Had he changed his mind? Would he refuse to help?

  He didn’t respond immediately. He walked purposefully into the kitchen and poured a fresh coffee from the silver pot. It was thick and dark; it filled the mug as tar might a hole in the road. “How much longer does your brother have at school?”

  “Three years.” She held her breath, trying desperately not to get her hopes raised.

  “Whether he is my father’s son or not, I am prepared to come to a new arrangement with you,” he said finally, draining his coffee and placing the cup down on the bench with cold detachment.

  “He is your half-brother,” she insisted through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t. I don’t want to hear that now. My offer does not hinge on the truth of your assertion.”

  Elle pressed her fingers lightly to her temple. “I’m surprised,” she said finally. “I thought you would fight me tooth and nail. Christos, you have to believe me, if this had mattered less I would never have contemplated anything devious or dishonest. I’m really, honestly glad that you can look past that to help him. If you knew Filip…”

  He held a hand up to silence her. “Stop. No talk of your brother. And you may not find the terms of the deal to your liking. But this is the only offer I am prepared to make. You may … take it or leave it.”

  And now her heart began to thud so slowly that she wondered if it might stop. “What terms?” She prompted after the feeling of electric shock had jolted her into speaking.

  His smile sent shivers down her spine. “In exchange for paying the remainder of your brother’s fees and creating a small trust fund for his eventual use, I will require three guarantees from you.”

  She lifted her brows to urge him to continue but her whole insides seemed to tremble like jelly.

  Christos Rakanti, billionaire tycoon, spoke as though negotiating the purchase of a building. “Silence will be required. From both you and this child. If my mother ever heard so much as a whisper of this, she would die.” His look was loaded with hatred and Elle fought the temptation to point out that none of this was her doing; she had played no part in the affair that had begot Filip. “My father died last week.” For a second he closed his eyes and when he opened them she glimpsed the man she’d shared a bed with; he was human, and he was hurting. But it was a tiny crack in an otherwise implacable façade. “You will not ruin the happy memories she has of my father with this foul accusation.”

  “I told you, it’s not an accusation. And as for Filip, he has no idea who his father is. That was part of the original deal.”

  Again he lifted a hand to silence her. “I am not interested in your explanations. So far as you and I are concerned, we do not need to talk about this again. Your brother does not exist to me. Nor will he ever.”

  “How can you be so cold?” She said, shocked to the bottom of her stomach. “He’s your flesh and blood. Aren’t you even the least bit curious as to what he’s like?”

  “No. I honour and respect my father far too much to ignore his wishes.”

  “You don’t know what his wishes were! Until ten minutes ago you didn’t even know you had a brother.”

  “On the contrary, I know that if my father had wanted me to know of this bastard, he would have told me of his existence. He didn’t want this child, and nor do I.”

  Elle didn’t realise that tears were streaming down her cheeks. But how could she not cry? Her heart was breaking for the boy she’d basically raised. “Fine.” She dashed at her eyes and nodded. “That’s your loss.”

  “Unlikely.”
It was a sneer that might as well have been a knife to her heart.

  “And the other two requirements?” She reminded him, wanting him to outline his terms so that she could agree to whatever he said and get the hell away from him.

  “That’s simple.” He leaned forward, his expression unfathomably menacing. “I want you. In my home. In my bed. And under my control.”

  She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. For surely it was some cruel joke? “No.”

  “Then no deal,” he shrugged.

  Her eyes flashed with grief. “Please, if you knew him, you’d understand. He’s had such a difficult life. But at school, he’s just … he has such potential.”

  He shook his head. “You’re forgetting the first term. Do not speak to me of him. I don’t wish to know anything about him. I will pay his fees if you agree to be mine.”

  A shudder of revulsion spread through her. The way he spoke of her was in the same manner he’d referred to the piano; as an asset he wanted for the sake of acquisition.

  “And the third term?” She whispered, dropping her eyes shut.

  “You will go, when I tire of you, without complaint and without emotional drama.” He crossed around the island, putting his strong hands on her shoulders. Hands that had brought her inexplicable pleasure. “And I will tire of you, agape mou.” It was as though he was making the promise to himself as much as to her.

  Her heart was breaking.

  “So?” He prompted, studying her with a lazy insolence. “Do you love him enough to agree? Do you stay, for your brother?”

  “Your brother,” she reminded him. An image of Filip flashed into her mind and she nodded. “In a heartbeat. And if you knew him, you’d understand why.”

  “Look. Isn’t that the guy you know?”

  Elle lifted her weary eyes towards Hannah. She was gesturing at a poster across the street. The traffic of Athens had breathed smog over its face, and she could just make out the name ANDRE in big, white letters. “So it is.” Her dark mood lifted slightly as she thought of her friend and mentor. “He must be releasing a new album. No. He’s on tour.”

  Hannah’s look was pointed. “That could be you, you know …”