Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife

by Sabrina Philips

  ‘But you are undoubtedly in full support of your husband’s policies now?’

  ‘From what I have just heard, yes.’ She paused, drawing the line at actually lying. They did sound good, but so did a lot of things which came out of his mouth. ‘But they are as new to me as I am sure they are to many of you. So, since I’m afraid I have never believed in adopting the opinions of those close to me simply because of the ties of marriage or blood, ask me again when I have had time to mull over the facts.’

  To Libby’s surprise the whole room suddenly filled with delighted applause—from the women in the crowd, who seemed to be bowled over that she had spoken her mind, and from the men, who nudged each other knowingly, as if it was heartening to know that even Orion Delikaris had a headstrong wife to contend with. From everyone except Stamos, who slipped out of the back door with a face like thunder.

  Libby resumed her seat as new questions about health-care and schooling began to pour in thick and fast, the crowd’s tongues apparently loosened by the moment.

  ‘You’re a genius,’ Stephanos whispered from the edge of the stage.

  But something about the look on Rion’s face told her that was not going to be an opinion he shared.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AS LIBBY sank down into the low leather seat of the Bugatti, Rion removed his tie, loosened his collar, and turned the key in the ignition. The car roared into life.

  He had maintained his flawless composure during the remainder of the meeting, effortlessly answering each new question from the floor with just the right blend of consideration, substance and wit, but she’d known that inwardly he was seething. And if she’d been in any doubt, then the firm hand at her back and his frosty silence as he’d escorted her to the car afterwards had made it explicitly clear.

  Well, Libby was positively seething herself. Yes, she’d gone to the meeting with the intention of riling him, but surely he could see that in the end she’d decided to try and breed a little common decency? It seemed she’d made a serious error of judgement. He didn’t have an ounce of common decency left.

  ‘Has it escaped your notice that I actually did you a favour in there?’ she shot out suddenly, convinced that if she didn’t say something then the car’s windows would implode under the tension, ‘That the people of Metameikos got to see you as a human being instead of a billionaire who flies around the sky in his own plane and whirls around the streets in his Bugatti?’ She made a disparaging spinning gesture with her forefinger.

  ‘Hark at you, “Lady” Ashworth, lecturing me about keeping in touch with the common people.’

  ‘I’m not the one swanning around in the fancy transport.’

  ‘No, you’re the one who—in the absence of your parents’ wealth to wallow in—has come to wallow in mine.’

  She seethed at the accusation. ‘Being forced to do so has only reminded me that money counts for nothing. Doesn’t it occur to you that the people of Metameikos might feel the same?’

  Rion’s knuckles went white against the steering wheel, and for a moment his fury was so acute he couldn’t speak. ‘You think that money counts for nothing? Here, of all places? But of course—why would you think anything else when you’ve never known what it is to have none?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant. Just because my parents have money it doesn’t mean I have no idea—’

  ‘How it feels to live in squalor? Oh, yes, I’m forgetting the slum of an apartment I made you live in.’

  She shook her head, wondering how it was possible that he always got her so wrong.

  ‘Just because my parents have money it doesn’t mean I have no idea about poverty, Rion. I’ve been all over the world—all over it, not just to the places with bright city lights.’

  ‘And what did you do when you saw it? Put away your digital camera and thank God you were born lucky?’

  ‘I did what I could,’ she said solemnly, turning to look out of the window. Which hadn’t been much when she’d been living on her wits herself. But the fund at Kate’s Escape she’d set up, to encourage staff and clients to donate to the areas they visited which were most in need, was now really starting to make a difference.

  ‘What I meant…’ She took a deep breath, steering her thoughts back to their original argument as they approached the house. ‘What I meant is that I doubt your display of excess is doing anything to endear you to your electorate.’

  ‘You don’t think so?’ He raised his eyebrows patronisingly. ‘Surely I don’t need to remind you that I was a boy in that crowd once?’

  ‘No, you don’t need to remind me.’ That was why they were here, instead of in Athens or anywhere else. He wanted power to go with his wealth and success, and the added authenticity of doing it here gave him the best chance of getting it. She missed his grimace.

  ‘Then—tricky as this may be for you—try for a moment to think yourself into the mindset of someone living in the old town. Wouldn’t you be inspired to see a man who started in the same place as you are now returning home a success?’

  Libby thought about it, and about the announcement that he intended to plough his own wealth into hospitals and houses too. She had to admit that if she didn’t know he was only in this for the power and the thrill of winning then she probably would. In fact, she didn’t know why for a minute she’d supposed the people would think anything else; he’d painstakingly considered every aspect of his image and made sure it was tailored towards gaining maximum support, hadn’t he? That was why she was here. But what was wrong with showing people that he was a human being as well as a success story?

  ‘So, if you’re so keen for the people of Metameikos to feel an affinity with you, how can you possibly be angry about what happened back there?’

  Rion pulled onto the driveway and killed the engine. How could he be angry about what happened back there? Oh, there were of plenty of ways: he could be angry that he’d allowed his desire for her to weaken his faculties; that for a moment she of all people had held his fate in her hands whilst he’d looked on powerlessly; that he hadn’t even slaked his goddamned desire for her yet!

  He flung open the car door. ‘I am needed in a conference call with Delikaris headquarters.’ He looked down at his watch. ‘Now.’

  Libby scrambled after him as he unlocked the front door, desperate to force him to see how unreasonable he was being. ‘If you can’t think of an answer then why not consider the fact that maybe there isn’t a reason? I could have told everyone exactly how you’re capitalising on my return, but I chose to help you, and yet you still look like you’re about to explode.’

  The second the words were out of her mouth Rion turned so sharply back on himself that she almost crashed straight into him. ‘You’re right,’ he breathed, stretching out his arm and pushing the front door shut behind her head. For a second she froze, her eyes wide with hope that he was about to announce that he’d been wrong to try and use her in this way, to reveal that he was still the old Rion she’d fallen in love with. But then he continued. ‘I am about to explode. And so are you.’ He reached down for her hand and then raised it to his chest, placing it at the exact point where the fabric of his shirt gave way to flesh.

  It was so unexpected that for a second she just stood there, feeling the heat of his hair-roughened chest, the pounding of his heart which began to reverberate through her body so she couldn’t tell which was her rhythm and which was his, almost as if they were—

  ‘No!’ she gasped, wrenching her hand away and drawing in a fast, deep breath, hoping the rush of oxygen would kick her brain into gear, remind her that he didn’t really want her, that he wasn’t the same man any more, that it would only lead to heartache. She tried to take a step backwards, but she was already up against the front door, and when she took a side-step to the right he mirrored it, keeping her hemmed in.

  ‘No?’ he said huskily. ‘That isn’t what you want? Then why is your body temperature soaring? And why tear your hand away as though you’re terrifi
ed of what you might do next?’

  ‘I’m not terrified—’

  ‘Good—then there’s no reason to remove it, is there?’ He reached for her hand again and placed it back inside his shirt, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Libby’s breath caught in her throat. So now she was damned if she removed her hand and damned if she didn’t? She lowered her eyes, desperate to reduce the effect that touching him was having on her by blocking out the sight of him, knowing her only hope was to try and convince him she felt nothing whatsoever.

  Gently he ran his forefinger along her outstretched right arm and softly up her neck. Libby closed her eyes and shook her head, so that the short length of her hair fell forwards. For the first time since she’d had it cut, in a bid to start afresh upon arriving in Manchester five years ago, she wished she hadn’t—just so she had something more substantial to hide behind.

  ‘Don’t you know that trying to look away says even more than if you just drank me in with your eyes, as I know you’re longing to do?’ he murmured. ‘Do you think I don’t remember how you always hid behind your hair…’he smoothed the wisps away from her face now, tucking them behind her ear in a gesture which made Libby’s stomach lurch in painful remembrance ‘…when you wanted me most?’

  She opened her eyes wide and looked directly into the depths of his, hoping he didn’t notice the increased pressure of her hand against his chest as she fought to steady herself. ‘The meaning of things can change, Rion. Just because I lacked self-confidence then it does not mean I avert my gaze out of coyness now.’

  ‘Coyness?’ He laughed nastily. ‘No, I’m well aware that’s not the reason.’

  Wounded at his insinuation, Libby dropped her lashes again. ‘Then why can’t you just accept that I don’t want to look at you or to…touch you?’ She removed her hand from his chest a second time, and stared down at her palm as if it had betrayed her.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he answered, marching his fingertips against his lower lip in feigned deliberation. ‘Maybe it’s because you can’t say that and look me in the eye. Maybe it’s because ever since you turned up in my office you’ve been looking at me the way a man who is starving might look at a banquet. So why don’t you just come and taste it?’

  She heard her breathing grow heavy, felt the exaggerated rise and fall of her chest. Why had she bothered even trying to fool him? He could read the subtle body language of people he’d only just met, for goodness’ sake, never mind the unsubtleties of hers.

  And he’s been using that against you from the start, a voice reminded her from deep within the lust-filled labyrinth of her mind. Not because he desires you, but for the benefit of his political career.

  Which meant that if she looked hard enough she’d catch the look of reluctance in his eyes, she thought with both pain and relief. For surely if she could see that his desire was nothing but a mask he wore, as a means to an end, she’d have the strength and the self-respect to walk away?

  But as she flicked her eyes up to his face again there wasn’t even a hint of disinclination. And although it had been missing yesterday too, then she’d been sure that he’d just been turned on by the challenge of proving he was better than her ‘other man’. Now he knew that there was no other man. So could it really be possible that…she was turning him on?

  ‘Stuck for an answer yourself now, gineka mou?’

  ‘No, I’m—’

  ‘Still here,’ he finished, stepping back and sweeping his arm across the gap between them, to emphasise the fact that he was no longer blocking her escape.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, willing the words I’m just leaving to come out of her mouth. But they didn’t. Because how could she leave when he was looking at her the way he had that very first day when she’d walked into her father’s showroom, as if no amount of her would ever be enough?

  ‘Yes,’ she repeated, ‘I’m still here, and I…don’t want to go anywhere.’

  Triumph and arousal surged through Rion’s veins. He’d never been in any doubt that her body craved this as much as his did, but for a minute there he’d wondered whether the shame she felt at that was going to win out all over again. But it hadn’t, and that made him the winner. Because this time around there would be no holding back.

  ‘Good,’ he growled, lowering his head. ‘Because right here is perfect with me.’

  Libby’s stomach did a part-fearful, part-excited somersault as she realised he’d interpreted her words literally. He’d made it clear that he suspected she’d had other lovers, and thanks to her failure to correct him he probably presumed that she was now some experienced seductress who was used to making love in the middle of the day, wherever the urge took her. And if that was the kind of woman he was used to making love to, she was bound to disappoint him.

  An arrow of pain shot through her at the thought, but as his mouth descended to feast on hers with such hot, hedonistic pleasure that she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d actually caught alight, her fears didn’t just diminish, they were eclipsed by sensation completely.

  Of course he’d always known exactly how to turn her on—he’d introduced her to the pleasures her own body was capable of—but he’d always rebuffed her attempts to learn what turned him on. She’d always supposed it was because once he’d taken her to bed she hadn’t excited him half as much as he’d expected, but now he was showing her that just exploring her mouth was driving him wild, and, to Libby, that was the most powerful aphrodisiac she’d ever experienced.

  Desperate to learn what else he liked, she used his earlier action as a guide and hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt. He sucked in a deliciously impatient breath as she encouraged it over his shoulders and began to explore the hard planes of his chest, skimming her fingers over the sensitive area of his nipple without restriction.

  In the next instant he returned the favour, his fingers moving quickly to the buttons of her top. But rather than discarding it immediately he placed his hands flat against her tummy and slowly began to move them upwards beneath the thin fabric.

  Libby closed her eyes and arched her back against the wall, imagining the symmetrical pattern his hands were making on her body as they skimmed upwards until they reached her bra, where they changed shape in order to cup her breasts. It sent a dart of need between her legs so acute that it was painful.

  ‘Rion!’

  Aroused, but frustrated by the material obstructions, she scrambled to discard both offending items herself. She rid herself of her top, but as it hit the floor his hands came behind her to work the fastening of her bra. Slowly he peeled it away from her body. Like a gift to be unwrapped, she thought glowingly, and enjoyed. Because, whilst he clearly hadn’t forgotten the way she liked to be touched, now he was revelling in the way he liked to touch her, stroking, kneading, tasting.

  Libby groaned, and he smiled in delight, his hands going in search of more pleasure, trailing lower, finding the globes of her bottom beneath her skirt, reaching for the hook, the zip. She kicked off her sandals, the marble floor cold beneath her feet, and in seconds she was completely naked before him.

  Desperate for him to join her, she began to feather kisses down his chest whilst her hands moved to unbutton his trousers. He moaned in encouragement, but it excited her so much that her fingers lost their way.

  He came to her aid, discarding the rest of his clothes at speed—only stopping to slip his leather wallet out of his trouser pocket before they hit the ground. But Libby didn’t even notice. She was too transfixed by the smooth beauty of his erection.

  She’d had the instinctive desire to touch him in all his glory since the very first time she’d seen him naked, but in the past he’d always steered her hand away. Now, encouraged by his pleasure at her exploration of his chest, she pushed those memories aside and took his tip between her fingers, running her thumb around its head.

  She felt his whole body go still, his breathing become loud and fast and irregular. She looked up, excitement rippling through h
er at the effect she was having on him. His eyes were wide and black with desire. She moved her hand to stroke the whole length of him. His eyes grew darker still. This time he did not stop her.

  At least not until it was obvious to both of them that unless she stopped now, this was going to be over too soon.

  Instantly he turned his attention back to his wallet. He’d already torn open the silver foil before it occurred to Libby that his protecting himself was actually unnecessary, given that she was on the pill. She’d only gone on it for the convenience of knowing when to expect her previously irregular periods whilst travelling, had never had reason to consider its other function before. But she sensed it would rather shatter the mood if she suddenly tried to explain that now, when his hands were already sweeping purposefully up thighs, beneath her bottom…

  Deftly, his upper body taut with strength, Rion lifted her up and took a step forward, so that her back was supported by the wall. Libby gasped at the sheer eroticism of what his body was proposing, but as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her body accepted it instinctively.

  The feeling as he drove into her was exquisite. Maybe it was sinful, a crime against her sex to be glad that he’d made no attempt to tenderly touch her, to check that she was ready for him first. But to her it was proof that they’d never been closer. That he understood he could toss the rulebook out of the window because she couldn’t wait a moment longer. Any more than he could.

  His thrusts were urgent, primitive, perfect. She looked down at his thick dark hair, ran her hands through it, over the hard muscles of his arms that held her there so effortlessly, loving the incongruent looks of both power and powerlessness she saw intermittently on his face, heard in the shameless, guttural sounds that he mouthed into the hollow of her shoulder.

  She leaned her head against the wall, the movement arching her back so that she could feel her nipples graze the taut plane of his chest. Every nerve-ending in her body was tight—no, loose—no, a whole mixture of sensations. As if her body had given up trying to work out which ones it was supposed to be possible to feel at the same time and was just making her feel everything.