by Sara Wood
‘Good grief! I’m not discussing my personal life,’ she replied airily, and half turned, only to be halted when his hand closed firmly around her arm.
‘He’s very interested in my money—and how much you’ll eventually win,’ he purred silkily. ‘Tell me, Olivia. I need to know…was that what drove you to marry me? Was it a bonus that there was the prospect of good sex? Did you think we’d have fun for a short while, till you struck out for independence and wealth when you judged you could legally sever our bonds? If so, I admire your single-mindedness, your tenacity and patience—if nothing else—for playing the long game.’
How could he believe that of her? It suggested that he held a very cynical view of women—and her in particular. It was outrageous to suggest she’d married him with a view to a lucrative divorce. Vile-minded rat. Deeply insulted, she picked off his fingers one by one, her mouth tight with contempt.
‘You don’t know me at all,’ she snapped.
‘I know you well enough to realise that Paul is only half the man you need,’ he bit.
‘At least he’s not the philandering kind,’ she countered.
He grinned. ‘I agree. He hasn’t, if you’ll pardon the expression, got the balls.’ It pleased him when her mouth twitched in amusement, acknowledging that he was right. ‘He might have a fight on his hands.’
She looked up at him in alarm. ‘What…do you mean?’
Dimitri gave a low laugh. ‘Oh, not that I’ll challenge him to a duel for you. I’m not interested in having a whore for a wife—’
‘I’m not!’ she yelled, pink with indignation.
‘Matter of opinion. No, I could contest the divorce. Make things difficult for you.’
‘That’s spiteful and beneath you,’ she croaked.
‘Mm. It might be in my interests, though,’ he mused. ‘What will I get out of legally severing our marriage—other than a halving of my fortune?’
‘Freedom,’ she told him, agitated.
‘I have that,’ he told her. ‘I do what I like.’
He always had. ‘To remarry?’
‘Maybe I don’t want to.’
‘You want children,’ she said bluntly. ‘Even you can’t create blood heirs without the help of a woman. And however many you father on the wrong side of the blanket, I know you would want at least some of your children to be legitimate. It’s definitely to your advantage to divorce me so don’t pretend it isn’t.’
He smiled. ‘You’re trying to tell me you’re doing me a favour?’
‘Well, we can’t go on like this, being neither single nor married!’ she said crossly. ‘I want out of this relationship, Dimitri. I want to wipe you from my shoes, where you’ve been for these past three years, and never see or think of you again. You have influence. See to it that we’re divorced quickly. You can play the field all you like then with a free conscience—that’s the little voice in your head that tells you when you’re doing something morally wrong, by the way,’ she added scathingly.
He smiled, clearly amused by her stinging jibe. ‘I don’t think a divorce will instantly erase me from your memory,’ he purred.
A shudder rippled through her in acceptance of the fact that he himself had made too powerful an impact to be forgotten. Somehow she turned it into a shudder of disgust.
‘I sincerely hope it does,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now. This divorce—’
‘Ye-e-s. There’s a little snag, though. It will take some time, I’m afraid,’ he said with feigned regret.
‘Then pull some strings.’ She wasn’t falling for that one.
He shrugged as if he had none to pull. ‘I made some preliminary enquiries after you rang. The courts are overburdened with work.’ Reaching forward to lift back strands of hair which had blown across her face, he came closer, his breath reaching her in a tantalising whisper that caused chaos in her frantically thudding heart. ‘I hope you realise that you’ll need to stay here while the proceedings are taking their course.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’ she cried. ‘I’m flying back tomorrow morning—’
‘As you like. But there’ll be no divorce. If work’s a problem—’
‘No.’ She frowned. ‘It’s not. Just that I don’t want to stay anywhere near you—’
He shook his head as if in regret. ‘It’s your choice, of course. There are officials to see, papers to sign… You’d never believe the complications. Even if you stay, it could be three or four months before our case even gets onto the list. Then there might be a year’s wait while—’
‘A year? That can’t be right!’ she protested, closing her eyes in dismay.
‘Would that be a problem?’ he murmured. ‘Staying here, discussing each stage with me…’
She couldn’t do that. Even now his seductive voice was creating havoc within her. It felt to her as though she might drown. Her senses were taking over. Dimitri’s eyes had been as liquid as her bones. Every bit of her was screaming for a sexual release—a kiss, a touch, to be crushed in his arms…
Olivia floundered, trying to keep her head above water. It wasn’t over between them, she thought bleakly. She hated him. Despised him. Yet the terrible bond was as strong as ever.
‘I could, perhaps,’ came his voice perilously close to her mouth, ‘hurry things along a little…if I so wished.’
She gulped and surfaced, opening her eyes to find that he was kissing-close, his head already angled as if he was contemplating his assault on her mouth. The drowsiness of his eyes and the sultry set of his lips sent any rational sense to the four winds.
Ruthlessly she gritted her teeth and reminded herself that he’d be unbearable if she ever let him touch her again. He wasn’t worthy enough to clean her shoes, let alone have access to her body. Adulterer. Man of few morals… She searched for words to strengthen her resolve. Yes, she thought grimly, and with the self-restraint of a rutting stag!
‘Then wish. Find a four-leafed clover, a black cat, a fairy godmother—I don’t care, but wish! Bribe someone if necessary, but hurry everything up,’ she told him, her tone deliberately acid.
His smile would have beguiled her in times long past. He took her glass from her trembling hand and put it, with his, on the table beside the loungers. Then he took her hands in his, moving his thumbs rhythmically over her skin. And all she could do was to look at him, washes of warm heat turning her body into a glowing furnace.
‘I’ll do that,’ he agreed.
‘Good,’ she husked.
‘For a price,’ he said thickly.
Her body slumped. Yes. If it’s sex, she thought in a crazy moment of weakness, she’d say yes. One last moment together before she shut down her hunger for him and became celibate again.
How awful! she thought, appalled by her feebleness. What was she thinking?
Despairing, she fought her appallingly wayward, abandoned nature and tried desperately hard to remain indifferent. But he had taken her in his arms now and his body almost touched hers. Every inch of her wanted to strain forward so she could feel the hard, muscular torso against the softness of her breasts and enjoy the pressure of his narrow hips as his pelvis settled against hers.
‘I won’t pay your price!’ she croaked. They fitted so well. Always had. Her head spun.
‘I think you will,’ he countered with soft certainty.
He was exultant. Her arousal had astonished him. But then they’d always matched one another in their demands. No doubt Paul had starved her of true satisfaction. He had a powerful urge to erase her lovers from her mind and body.
She would definitely pay the price he demanded. He’d see to that. Dimitri touched her quivering mouth, a knife-wound of excitement shafting through him when she gave a little gasp. Oh, yes. To have that glorious body in his bed, to remind her how good their sex had been, that would ease his ache. He would keep her until she didn’t know which way up she was. And then when she was utterly dependent on him he’d dump her so fast her feet wouldn’t touch the floor.
&
nbsp; But hell. He wanted her. Now! For the time being, a quick retreat might be wise.
‘Wait there. I’ll see what I can come up with,’ he whispered. And couldn’t resist touching her lips with his, intending the kiss to be brief and casual.
Yet in seconds they were wrapped around one another. The ferocity of their passion startled even him. A warning voice in his head told him that he must get away before he showed his desperation.
‘Mm. Very nice. But I have a call to make.’ Everything throbbed. His blood raced around his body, turning his head to mush. He pushed a hand through his hair and steadied himself, mentally, physically and emotionally. ‘I will see what I can do to speed things up.’
Somehow he found his way to the cabin door, though he felt as intoxicated as a drunk. But then he was addicted to her and the more he had the more he wanted. This time, however, it would be on his terms and he would be emotionally detached. The safest way, where his harlot wife was concerned.
Not for nothing did he come from ‘under the ditch’, the ditch being the pet name for the Corinth Canal that cut off the Peloponnese peninsula from the Greek mainland and turned it into a technical island. People from his area were considered to have a particularly devious mental agility. They could assess a situation and turn it to their advantage, which was why so many Greek politicians came from his homeland.
He headed for the salon, his brain fizzing as if it had been plugged into a socket, his body vibrantly alive. An idea had come to him of such startling simplicity that it left him breathless. He’d deal with Olivia and the Eleni problem at the same time.
A sense of elation made him want to shout and he caught himself grinning stupidly. He’d have one hell of a roller-coaster ride with Olivia. By the time he’d finished with her, she’d be begging him to let her stay as his wife and she would know for herself the humiliation and pain of being rejected. And he’d make sure she realised that he’d treated her like the callous little tramp she really was.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR a moment or two after Dimitri had disappeared into the cabin, Olivia remained at the rail, clinging on to it for dear life because her legs were in no fit state to do the job for which they’d been designed.
No wonder she hadn’t been interested in those other men who’d been keen to take her out. Over the past couple of years she’d accepted a few invitations to dinner, hoping that she could forget Dimitri in some other man’s arms. All too soon she had discovered that the experimental dates had only reinforced the hold Dimitri still had on her.
Being with him again was like leaping into a maelstrom of emotion and feeling, where her senses became heightened and every cell in her body hummed and vibrated as if they’d been connected to a power source.
She paced the deck, horrified by her arousal and deeply ashamed that her sexual hunger could override her contempt for Dimitri. He really imagined that she’d leap into bed with him, given the chance—and perhaps she might, she thought with a groan.
Hearing him flinging open the cabin doors again, she spun around, her heart pounding at the sight of him, his passionate eyes dark and unwavering as he strolled towards her trembling body.
‘I can offer you a quickie if you like.’ He smiled at her, one eyebrow lifted in query.
Olivia inhaled sharply and raised her hand to slap his face but he caught it, laughing, the sudden crinkling of his eyes and the warmth of his expression making her knees liquefy.
‘How dare you?’ she whispered.
‘Sorry. Your language sometimes has too many meanings. I meant a quickie divorce,’ he said, amused.
Sceptically she narrowed her eyes. Dimitri knew exactly what he’d said. His English was impeccable. If she’d gone all coy on him, he would have grabbed her and rushed her down to his cabin without a second thought. Though what the pneumatic blonde would think of that, she wouldn’t know. It shocked her that Dimitri could juggle two women, only a few feet from each other, without turning a hair!
‘Do it, then,’ she said coldly, snatching her hand free.
‘And you’ll agree to what I want?’
‘Not to anything illegal or immoral!’ she declared.
‘Absolutely not,’ he said, sounding prim and shocked. She stared at him witheringly and he grinned again. ‘Well?’
‘Depends. I can think of several things I won’t do for you.’ Her wary eyes searched his and met a wall of blandness.
‘Don’t worry. It’s something well within your capabilities,’ he said, not calming her suspicions at all. ‘I’ll explain to you over lunch.’ He motioned her to the cabin but she stayed put.
‘Is this a pretext to get me into your cabin and your bed?’ she asked, trying to keep a rein on her runaway desires.
‘Is that a round-about way of asking?’ he enquired silkily.
A flush spread from her neck to the roots of her hair. ‘It certainly isn’t!’
‘Uh-huh.’ He didn’t sound too convinced.
‘I loathe you, Dimitri. Do you honestly think I’d want to slip between the sheets with you?’ she derided.
His shoulders lifted in a typically Greek shrug. ‘It doesn’t have to be sheets. I have a very wide desk… Still,’ he hurried on, seeing her furious expression, ‘it looks as if I must settle for lunch and a discussion, then. Hungry?’ he asked.
She blinked. It was hours and hours since she’d eaten, her nerves preventing her from touching breakfast—or even her meal the night before. There was no point in starving. And Dimitri always ate well. He had the most wonderful chef who prepared sumptuous meals for when he was on the boat. Her mouth watered.
‘I could eat a horse,’ she admitted.
‘I think we can come up with something a little less controversial than tucking into one of our equine friends.’
Olivia almost smiled at his dry comment, but stopped herself in time when she remembered that the blonde was hanging around somewhere and they might not be alone. There was safety in numbers, but she wasn’t too keen on watching Dimitri play footsie under the table with one of his gooey-eyed groupies.
He picked up her shoes and politely handed them to her, then led the way to the cabin.
Olivia felt suddenly nervous. ‘Will your blonde…friend be joining us?’
Dimitri pulled a face. ‘Not if I can help it.’ He put out his hand to help her down the steps but she ignored it.
‘Not into threesomes, then?’ she said sarkily.
‘No. Are you?’ he enquired.
Her glare answered him. ‘I don’t particularly want to meet one of your…popsies,’ she began, her mouth twitching when Dimitri roared with laughter at her choice of words. ‘But it seems rude to eat separately—’
‘Believe me,’ he said as they moved into the panelled dining room, ‘I want to stay separated from…the popsie. She’s the reason I need your help. One of the crew is discreetly putting her ashore now we’re in the dining room.’
Callous brute, she thought, feeling a little—only a little—sorry for the woman. She supposed that Dimitri was used to shuffling his mistresses around in order that they never met. How tacky.
They’d eaten their mezedhes, choosing delicacies from the countless small dishes of tempting snacks, and had been served with a beautifully presented dish of red mullet before Dimitri ended his non-stop commentary on the delights of Greek cooking.
She’d listened patiently, sipping champagne with the strangely loud notes of a haunting Greek folk tune swirling about them noisily from a hidden music system, and wondering when he’d get to the point.
During his monologue, Dimitri had leaned confidentially towards her. Because of the deafening music she had been forced to do the same, so that she could hear what he’d said. It had given an uneasy intimacy to the meal.
The haunting notes of the bouzouki filled her head and stirred her emotions. She wondered if that was deliberate and she tried to remain unaffected, but it was difficult with Dimitri’s handsome face so close, the faint scent of
aftershave lingering in the air whenever he threw back his head and laughed.
The waiter deftly slipped dishes of artichokes, courgettes and green beans beside each of their plates and then exited, discreetly closing the door. She almost felt like calling him back, because being alone with Dimitri seemed increasingly risky.
The tender flesh of the fish seduced her tastebuds but Olivia instantly adopted a businesslike air and broke in on Dimitri’s lyrically sensual praise of the dish. Before she knew it, he’d be moving from food to other things…
‘I have to check in to my hotel this afternoon. There isn’t enough time for a tour around Greece’s gastronomic delights,’ she rebuked. ‘Tell me what you want me to do in exchange for a quick divorce. And don’t suggest sex. You can find that elsewhere.’
In a leisurely movement, Dimitri leaned back in his chair, eyeing her over the rim of his flute. He looked very satisfied with himself.
‘You could get me out of a difficult situation,’ he said casually. Olivia popped a forkful of green beans into her mouth and made no comment. Dimitri sighed as though the weight of the world lay on his shoulders. ‘It’s my mother.’
Her lashes flicked up in surprise. She’d thought the blonde was his problem. ‘Go on.’
He tried to sound concerned. It wasn’t easy when his pulses were hammering with the cleverness of his plan and every inch of him surged with hard-to-suppress excitement. Carefully he produced a frown and another sigh.
‘Once I am a free man she wants me to marry a suitable woman—’
‘As opposed to an unsuitable one like me,’ Olivia said drily.
‘I’ve never understood why you two have never got on,’ he told her. ‘The fact is, all these years she’s been hassling me to trace you, to divorce and remarry and to provide heirs for the Angelaki empire.’
‘You…didn’t search for me at all?’ She sounded surprised and disappointed.
He scowled, hating to remember that time. Of course he hadn’t. She’d made it clear that she didn’t love him. What was there to be gained—other than heartache and a series of heated arguments?
