Proof Of Their Forbidden Night (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Chantelle Shaw

  ‘Your sister said that you are only marrying me as a way of regaining full ownership of Louloudi and then you intend to divorce me.’

  Andreas swore. ‘Nefeli is still upset but it does not excuse her lies. I will speak to her.’ He moved to stand in front of Isla and ran his finger lightly down her cheek. ‘It’s true that I suggested marriage as a sensible solution to our situation.’

  Hearing him say it, even though he had never pretended to have feelings for her, felt like a knife through her heart. Fortunately her pride kicked in and she lifted her chin. ‘With the added advantage of hot sex,’ she suggested drily.

  ‘It’s more than just good sex,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I have enough experience to know that the chemistry between us, the passion, is different than with other women. It’s...special.’

  Special! The word wrapped around Isla’s heart like a security blanket. She had learned enough about Andreas to know that he did not say things he didn’t mean. If he thought that making love with her was special it gave her hope that over time his feelings for her might grow.

  ‘And there will be no divorce.’ His voice was resolute. ‘There has never been a divorce in the Karelis family.’

  ‘Perhaps it would have been better if your parents had divorced as the marriage made your mother unhappy.’

  ‘She made herself unhappy because she loved my father and it became an unhealthy obsession.’ Andreas’s jaw tightened. ‘But that won’t happen with us,’ he said in a hard voice that sounded as though he was warning her not to fall in love with him. He was too late, she thought heavily. But if she told him how she felt, it would put her in a vulnerable position. He might even decide not to marry her and instead seek custody of Loukas. She shivered and Andreas frowned.

  ‘You are getting cold out here. Let’s go inside and I’ll warm you.’ His eyes gleamed with sensual promise as he swept her up into his arms and carried her inside the penthouse. The master bedroom had floor to ceiling windows on three walls and the views over the city were spectacular, but Isla only had eyes for Andreas as he stripped off his shirt.

  Heat radiated from his skin and he smelled divine. The only place she wanted to be was in his strong arms. She traced her finger over the long scar that ran down his chest, a legacy of the motorbike accident that had almost killed him. Life was precarious and uncertain but he was offering her a future with him and their baby son, who they both adored.

  When he bent his head and claimed her mouth with his, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer to him so that she felt the erratic thud of his heart beating in time with her own. There was tenderness in his kiss tonight and something close to reverence in the way he undressed her slowly, trailing his lips over every inch of her skin that he exposed and paying homage to her breasts before he knelt between her thighs and pressed his mouth to the molten heart of her femininity.

  By the time he tumbled them onto the bed and lifted her on top of him she was shaking with need, and even more shaken by the realisation that his hands were unsteady when he guided her down onto his hard length. She rocked her hips, taking him deeper inside her so that he filled her, completed her.

  He cupped her bottom cheeks in his big hands as she arched above him. ‘You will never find passion as intense as this with anyone else,’ Andreas gritted. ‘Esai dikos mou.’

  His words thundered through Isla’s blood.

  You are mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘ISLA, WAKE UP, agapimenos.’ The deep voice, as rich and dark as bittersweet chocolate, roused Isla from a peaceful sleep. She stretched luxuriantly and opened her eyes to find Andreas leaning over her.

  ‘You remind me of a sleepy kitten and I have the marks made by your sharp little claws on my back,’ he teased softly.

  She blushed and sat up, tugging the sheet over her breasts, although heaven knew it was too late for modesty, she thought as memories of their wild lovemaking the previous night surfaced in her mind. Her disappointment that Andreas was dressed must have shown on her face. He looked breathtaking in a dark grey suit and a silk shirt the exact shade of blue as his eyes, but she preferred him naked.

  ‘If you carry on looking at me like that I will definitely be late for my flight to New York,’ he drawled. At her faint frown, he murmured, ‘I told you about my business trip last night but I don’t think you were concentrating on what I was saying.’ His sudden grin made him seem almost boyish and even more gorgeous.

  No, she had been focused on what he was doing with his long fingers and wicked tongue. ‘How long will you be away for?’

  ‘Three days.’ A gleam lit his eyes when she gave a faint sigh. ‘Come with me? Toula won’t mind looking after Loukas.’

  Isla was startled by his invitation. ‘But you will be working.’

  ‘Only during the days, but we would have the evenings and nights to ourselves.’

  She was tempted, especially when he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his in an achingly sensual kiss. When she parted her lips he groaned and tangled his tongue with hers.

  ‘I don’t want to leave Loukas for that long,’ she muttered when a need for oxygen made them break apart. Did she imagine a look of regret in his eyes as he stood up?

  ‘I’ll cram three days of meetings into two days so that I can return home early,’ Andreas said thickly. He glanced at his watch and cursed. On his way out of the bedroom he halted in the doorway and looked back at her. ‘Will you miss me?’

  She wanted to deny it but she was a hopeless liar. ‘Maybe a bit,’ she whispered.

  He held her gaze for what seemed like eternity. ‘I’ll miss you too.’

  It was just a figure of speech, Isla told herself after Andreas had gone. She doubted he would really miss her, but she was already counting the minutes until she saw him again. The penthouse felt empty without him. She showered and dressed and was about to walk outside to the helipad, where the pilot was waiting to fly her back to Louloudi, when her phone rang.

  Andreas sounded tense. ‘I’m at the airport, but I left in a hurry this morning and forgot my passport. You should find it on my desk, and I’ve sent a motorcycle courier to collect it.’

  Isla went into his study. ‘I can’t see your passport on the desk.’

  He swore. ‘The maid has probably tidied up. Can you check in the drawers for it?’

  She opened a drawer and sifted through some paperwork in case the passport had slipped between the pages. She was amused that Andreas was so untidy. It was an endearingly human trait in a man who she still found enigmatic. The headed notepaper on one document caught her attention: DNA Assured.

  Her curiosity got the better of her and even though she felt guilty to read his private correspondence she quickly skimmed her eyes down the letter. Her heart slammed into her ribs and her confusion turned to shock when she realised that the letter was from a DNA testing clinic where Andreas had requested a paternity test. The letter was dated almost a month ago, when he had met his son for the first time. But clearly Andreas had suspected that Loukas wasn’t his child.

  ‘Isla, have you found it?’ Andreas’s voice jolted her out of her state of numb shock. She pulled open another drawer and saw his passport.

  ‘Yes, it’s here.’ Heaven knew how she managed to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Good. The courier will be there soon. I have another call that I need to take.’ Andreas’s brisk voice turned husky. ‘Think of me while I’m away, moro mou.’

  Oh, you bet I will, Isla thought grimly as her phone slipped out of her trembling fingers and she stared at the damning letter. I’ll think what an absolute bastard you are, Andreas Karelis. The last paragraph of the letter from the DNA clinic explained that the result of the paternity test would be sent to Andreas in a sealed envelope, but because a sample from the child’s mother had not been sent for testing the result might take longe
r than usual.

  A wave of nausea swept over her and she collapsed onto the chair as the extent of his betrayal sank into her stunned brain. All the time that she and Andreas had spent together on Louloudi—becoming friends as well as lovers—he hadn’t trusted her. That meant he either didn’t believe she had been a virgin when she had slept with him at the fisherman’s cottage, or that she’d had sex with another man, or men, after him.

  Isla crumpled the letter in her fist and pressed her other hand against her mouth to hold back a sob. She was beyond hurt, but she was angry too. Fury bubbled up inside her. How dare Andreas go behind her back and have Loukas tested? She tried to think rationally. He seemed to genuinely adore the baby, which suggested that he did believe Loukas was his. And if he really had doubts, why had he asked her to marry him?

  She remembered Nefeli’s claim that Andreas was prepared to marry her because when she was his wife her assets would become his and he would regain full ownership of the island. And then there was the highly publicised photo of him kissing her. He needed to convince Karelis Corp’s board and shareholders that he was a reformed playboy and so he had announced their engagement. Presumably he’d intended to call off their marriage if the paternity test showed he wasn’t Loukas’s father. But of course he was, and she would have married him unaware of his deceit.

  What a fool she was. Isla covered her face with her hands as tears seeped from beneath her lashes. She had thought that they had grown closer in the past weeks but now she had proof that Andreas did not have any faith in her. She had accepted that he didn’t love her, but she’d thought she had earned his trust. She deserved his trust, dammit. And she deserved his love. But he wasn’t worthy of her love.

  Her backbone stiffened and she choked back another sob, angrily brushing away her tears. It struck her that she had spent far too much of her life longing to be loved, first by her father and then by Andreas. But she was wasting her time. Andreas was cynical to his core. He had even gifted her an exquisite wedding dress, knowing that their future hung on the result of the paternity test he’d had done behind her back.

  God, she hated him. But she loved him too, and she despised herself for her weakness. She couldn’t marry him now, and she dared not risk seeing him again for fear that he would undermine her fragile defences with his charm and charisma, which she knew were fake.

  An hour later the helicopter landed on Louloudi. Isla asked the pilot to wait while she collected Loukas and then they were to immediately return to Athens. She had booked tickets for her and the baby on a flight to London.

  Loukas was asleep in the pram when she entered the villa, and she ran upstairs and quickly packed the clothes she had brought to Greece almost a month ago. In three days’ time she was due to inherit the half-share of Louloudi left to her by Stelios, but only if she remained on the island. It was Loukas’s birthright but it was a poisoned chalice and she was determined to sever all links with the name Karelis.

  Her heart clenched at the thought of her little boy growing up without his father. Was she allowing her hurt pride to influence her decision to take Loukas away from Andreas? The thought pricked her conscience. For her son’s sake perhaps she should stay and confront Andreas, and they would have to find another way to be parents to Loukas that didn’t involve a farce of a marriage.

  She opened the wardrobe and her throat ached with tears as she stared at her wedding dress that she would never wear. Andreas had chosen a white dress that symbolised purity but he suspected that she’d had other lovers besides him. Isla felt heartsick. It was the only way to describe the tearing pain in her chest at the loss of a dream that she had wanted so desperately. She squeezed her eyes shut but hot tears escaped and slid down her cheeks. It had been cruel of him to give her the beautiful dress and let her hope that fairy tales could come true. Why was she so weak that she loved a man who treated her feelings in such a cavalier way?

  Anger and frustration with herself as much as with Andreas swirled black and rancid inside her. She opened the drawer in the dressing table and picked up a pair of scissors. Driven beyond reason, she slashed the dress with them. The scissors were small but sharp and the blades cut through the delicate lace easily. Isla made another cut and another, destroying the dress just like her hopes had been destroyed. Above the sound of the ripping material and her uneven breaths she heard Loukas crying. Sanity returned and she dropped the scissors, utterly horrified by what she had done. The destruction of the lovely dress that a seamstress had painstakingly sewn filled Isla with shame. Loving Andreas had turned her into someone she did not recognise, and she did not want to be the person she had become.

  When she ran downstairs she found that Toula had picked Loukas up from the pram. The Greek woman looked troubled when she saw Isla’s bags.

  ‘I have to go back to England urgently,’ Isla mumbled as she took the baby into her arms. Loukas stared at her with his big blue eyes that were so like his father’s and gave an angelic smile that squeezed her heart.

  ‘When will you come back?’

  ‘I... I don’t know,’ she lied, aware that she would never return to Louloudi. Tears filled her eyes as she hugged Toula. When she and Loukas were on the helicopter and it took off, she watched the island grow smaller and smaller and felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

  In his hotel room in New York, Andreas sloshed bourbon into a glass and paced restlessly around the room, halting by the window which overlooked Times Square. Neon lights flashed and yellow taxis were bumper to bumper on the road below, but he wasn’t interested in the view. Why the hell wasn’t Isla answering her phone? He’d been in meetings all day and hadn’t had a chance to call her until now. The time difference meant that it would be late at night in Greece, and maybe she was asleep. But something didn’t feel right.

  She had sounded strange when he’d phoned her from the airport to ask her to look for his passport. And after the party, when she’d asked if the only reason he wanted to marry her was because of Loukas and he’d agreed, Isla had looked hurt and, more than that, she’d looked disappointed, as if he had failed her.

  He swirled the amber liquid around in the glass. The truth was that he had failed her consistently. He knew she had doubts about marrying him but he’d steamrollered her into agreeing, telling her and himself that it was only because he wanted his son. Isla had seemed to accept the limitations he had put on their relationship, but he wondered if she wanted something other than the emotion-free zone that he had decreed their marriage would be.

  His jaw clenched. Whatever it was that she wanted he was incapable of giving to her. He simply wasn’t wired that way. And he didn’t want to be, he reminded himself. He had decided when he was a boy that he would never be a hostage to his emotions like his mother had been for most of her wretchedly miserable life.

  He lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed its contents, feeling the whisky’s fire at the back of his throat. Isla would be all right, he assured himself. She would marry him because she wanted Loukas to have a better father than hers had been. And he would give her a good life, financial security and the opportunity to pursue her career. He wanted her to be happy but he wanted their relationship to be on his terms, he acknowledged.

  His phone rang and his heart leapt, mocking his belief that he was emotionally detached. It must be Isla returning his calls. ‘Toula?’ Andreas’s disappointment turned to foreboding when the Greek woman spoke. ‘What do you mean, they’ve gone?’ Dread settled like a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. ‘Where are Isla and Loukas?’

  Toula sounded tearful. ‘Isla said she was taking the baby to England. Andreas, you need to come back to Louloudi. There is something you must see.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE SUFFOLK FENS on a dank day towards the end of October were bleakly beautiful. Isla took a chance when the rain stopped for a while to take Loukas out in the pushchair that her friend Jess ha
d lent her. The cottage where she had been staying since she’d left Greece ten days ago was a converted barn on Jess and her husband Tom’s farm.

  ‘Stay as long as you like,’ Jess had told her. But Isla knew she needed to make plans for the future, find a job and a nursery for Loukas and start living again, instead of existing in the fog of despair that had settled over her. It didn’t help that Loukas was unsettled. According to the baby book, he might be teething, but she sensed that he was missing Andreas as much as she was and guilt made her feel worse than ever.

  As she walked up the lane leading to the cottage her heart gave a jolt when she saw an expensive-looking saloon car parked outside the house. Andreas had no idea of her whereabouts, she reminded herself. She watched the driver’s door open and panic surged through her when he got out.

  Despite everything he had done, despite hating his guts, her eyes swept over him greedily, taking in his big, dark figure dressed in black jeans and a black wool coat. Taking a deep breath, she forced her feet to move forwards. When she drew nearer to him she was shocked by how haggard he looked. He could never be anything other than beautiful but there were deep grooves on either side of his mouth and several days’ growth of black stubble on his jaw. He looked like she felt—defeated. But Isla reminded herself that Andreas was far too arrogant to know the meaning of defeat.

  She reached the front gate and curled her fingers around the key in her pocket, wondering what her chances were of pushing the buggy up the path, unlocking the door and getting herself and Loukas inside the cottage before Andreas stopped her. Unlikely, she decided, her panic escalating. She did not fear him but she didn’t trust herself to be anywhere near him. Already she could feel the betraying tightening of her nipples when she breathed in the spicy tang of his aftershave as he walked towards her.