The Savakis Mistress

by Annie West

  That didn’t negate her manipulative plot with her uncle or her mercenary first marriage. Though if she’d spent her married life without her husband in her bed that perhaps explained her breathtaking enthusiasm for sexual pleasure.

  But it altered the situation enormously.

  Had Damon demanded too much? Too fast? He’d been insatiable and had given free rein to long-thwarted desire.

  Yet despite her occasional hesitance, she’d been willing. So willing just the thought of her in bed threatened to blow the lid off his control.

  More, the knowledge that what they’d shared was somehow right…more right than anything he’d had with any woman, overcame his pangs of conscience.

  He couldn’t let her go. Not yet.

  ‘You’re not going anywhere.’ His voice was thick with the desire that filled every pore, strained every sinew.

  She swung her head round, staring at him with the eyes of a seductress, a sorceress. Surely she’d bewitched him. Desire consumed him, obliterating all else.

  No evidence now of any vulnerability in her. Not the innocent nor the anguished woman he’d held in his arms aboard the Circe. The woman who’d evoked all his protective instincts.

  The memory of her last night, the sight of her now, proud and defiant and alluring, ripped the oxygen from his lungs.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Damon’s lips quirked in appreciation. She really did have attitude. So superior. So irresistible.

  ‘I said you’re not leaving.’

  Even the moue of surprise on her soft pink lips tugged at his control. Had she really thought she’d leave after one night in his bed?

  She was either incredibly naïve or playing some deep Machiavellian game.

  He spun on his foot and paced the room, facing his doubts and his conscience.

  ‘That’s not for you to decide.’

  He turned back to find her sitting taut and straight, her chin notched haughtily, her eyes blazing.

  His belly tightened and some alien sensation stirred deep in his chest.

  He couldn’t let her go.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ He paused, waiting as she digested his purposeful tone.

  ‘But I delivered on my end of the bargain!’ She leaned forward, eager to press her point.

  His eyes dropped to the hint of cleavage visible as the fisted hand securing the sheet moved. With a supreme effort he returned his gaze to her face.

  ‘You were to be my mistress for as long as I want.’ He walked towards the bed, tugging at the tie that suddenly seemed too tight around his neck. ‘And I still want. One night is barely a deposit. We’ll discuss your plan to leave in a few months.’

  Why this unholy pleasure in baiting her? The fire in her eyes ignited a flame of expectation that swamped the last of his scruples.

  No other woman, ever, had affected him like this.

  She froze, her mouth working as if lost for words.

  ‘Too bad.’ Her eyes narrowed and she pressed back against the bed head. ‘One night was more than enough for me.’

  Through the taut silence her eyes held his defiantly. Finally her lashes dropped and her gaze skated to the windows on the other side of the room.

  Not so poised and certain, then.

  ‘I don’t want you,’ she said in a voice that was too high, too light. Telling this lie didn’t come easily. ‘I never wanted you. And your ego won’t allow you to force an unwilling woman to stay in your bed.’ That note of triumph only stirred his fighting spirit.

  ‘Liar,’ he whispered as he dropped his tie. Of course she wanted him. Her eyes widened as she followed the movement. ‘You don’t convince me, Callie. You won’t leave.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Her expression turned arctic. ‘Are you threatening to chase after my cousin again? You’re big on threats, aren’t you?’

  Damon shook his head. He had no desire to become Aristides Manolis’ son-in-law.

  ‘No threat required, princess. This isn’t about Angela. This is about you and me.’

  A smile hovered on his lips as he approached.

  She swallowed hard, her eyes on him as he paced to the base of the bed.

  ‘You want me. You want to stay here, with me.’ His gesture encompassed the vast, rumpled bed. With his other hand he flicked open the top button of his shirt. And the next. And the next.

  Somewhere down the row her mouth opened a fraction and her eyes darkened to a deep emerald glow.

  Damon shucked off his shoes and stripped off his socks.

  When he straightened she’d moved further away, hands clenching the sheet to her collarbone.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Definitely a wobble in that voice now. She held herself like a monarch, oblivious to the actions of commoners like him. But her eyes gave her away.

  Ah, Callie. Why fight it? Why not admit that, for now at least, he was the man who fired her blood and ignited her senses? The man who could give her everything she desired.

  Excitement surged as he remembered her claim that he’d been the only man in six years. The thought thrilled his masculine ego.

  As if she’d kept herself just for him.

  Madness. She’d done no such thing. But that didn’t stifle his pleasure.

  ‘What am I doing? Proving you wrong, lover.’

  He shrugged out of his shirt, noting the way her gaze followed the movement.

  Not so aloof now, princess.

  His belt slid to the floor as he climbed onto the bed. Slowly he prowled its length on hands and knees. Callie’s eyes rounded as she shrank back.

  His knees straddled her feet, her legs, her thighs. Still she glared back, a study in aristocratic disdain. But he had her measure now. He knew that behind the façade pulsed a heart as hungry for passion as his own.

  The knowledge was immeasurably exciting.

  Callie was exciting.

  His heart drummed a staccato beat as he felt her warmth beneath him. He breathed deep, inhaling the fragrance of sweet female skin and the sultry scent of sex.

  ‘You won’t change my mind.’ She blurted the words out, but they were a poor camouflage. Her nipples peaked like succulent fresh berries beneath the sheet. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing.

  ‘You want me, don’t you, Callie?’

  She shook her head, her lips a flat line.

  He contemplated a frontal assault, kissing her till she capitulated. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted the words. He needed to know her hunger matched his.

  Braced above her but not touching, he lowered his head and pressed an open-mouthed kiss on the pleasure point where her neck met her shoulder.

  She jerked beneath him.

  Damon grazed his teeth across the spot and was rewarded with a judder of response. He watched her skin prickle and repeated the caress. The rhythm of her breathing altered, its tempo rattling out of control.

  ‘Say it, lover. Say you need me.’

  Callie sidled away. He prevented her simply by sliding his hand under the linen to cup her warm, full breast.

  A bolt of energy sheared straight to his groin. He wondered if he had the control to manage a slow, persuasive seduction when every hormone screamed the need for haste.

  Callie turned him into a man he barely recognised.

  Her breath sawed as he kissed along her shoulder and back to her neck.

  ‘Say it, Callie. Or walk out the door.’

  He moved his hand, tracing his fingertip in spiralling circles towards her nipple.

  She gasped as he tugged the sensitive point.

  The sound of her, the feel and scent and memory of her stiffened his body to breaking point. Just like that.

  What had been intended as erotic torment for her was torture for him too.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Yes, Callie?’ He pressed another kiss to her collarbone then across her rapidly working throat.

  ‘I…need you, Damon.’ Her voice was deliciously hoarse.

  His heart stuttered as
slim, delicate fingers caressed his shoulders, slid down his chest, exploring across, up and then inexorably down.

  Relief shuddered through him.

  Damon slanted his mouth hungrily over hers, sinking into her generous depths like a sailor coming home to port after a long and dangerous odyssey.

  He’d expected triumph when she capitulated. But the surge of warmth and overwhelming tenderness that enveloped him at her welcome was new.

  For an instant it teased his mind. Then, inevitably, he fell into the pleasurable oblivion of Callie’s loving.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘THANKS for your hospitality, Damon. It’s been a profitable meeting. And a delight getting to know you, Callie. I’ll enjoy returning the favour when you visit.’

  Callie smiled. ‘It was lovely meeting you too, Paulo.’ She watched the older man shake hands with Damon, surprised to discover how much she liked Damon’s associates and friends.

  This business lunch at Athens’ picturesque Mikrolimano Harbour had revealed Damon as a relaxed and attentive host, as well as an astute entrepreneur.

  There’d been wealthy businessmen and their partners, most now leaving the marina for the fleet of limos that would take them to their destinations. None had been in a hurry to go. All valued Damon’s opinion and friendship.

  ‘My pleasure,’ Damon responded with an easy smile. ‘We’ll look forward to taking you up on your offer.’

  They were going to Brazil? Callie shot a startled glance at Damon.

  He sent her an unreadable look. ‘I need to fit in a visit to South America in the next few months.’

  Callie digested that. They’d been together several weeks. Callie still reeled at the intensity of their relationship. Surrendering to Damon hadn’t been the punishment she expected. It had been mutual pleasure. No winner, no loser. Just the pair of them caught in a conflagration of desire.

  Callie was alternately scared and delighted by the passionate woman his loving had revealed. But she’d assumed a passion that flared so brightly would burn itself out in time. Wasn’t that why Damon never stayed with any one woman? Because eventually he tired of her?

  But he was talking about months into the future.

  Could she survive months with him and emerge unscathed? Already she found herself wishing for more. Wishing to understand the complex man who delighted her in bed, but remained an enigma outside of it.

  ‘And you’ll bring Callie? Excellent.’ Callie turned to find Mariana, Paulo’s gorgeous, dark-haired wife beaming at her. ‘That will give me a chance to show you some of the places I told you about.’

  Her smile was genuine and Callie responded automatically. She was still surprised at the warmth with which she’d been greeted by Mariana and the other women today. In her experience beautiful women with wealthy partners were more likely to be suspicious of potential rivals.

  ‘That means shopping,’ Paulo groaned theatrically. ‘She’ll ruin me yet.’

  Mariana turned and gave him a playful punch in the arm then kissed his cheek.

  Callie was dumbfounded at the pang of envy she felt as she watched the older couple. Her experience of marriage had put her off the institution. Especially as so many of her late husband’s friends were in unhappy relationships: mismatched couples brought together by greed, duty or convenience.

  For years she’d dreamed only of freedom and independence. But watching Mariana and Paulo…

  ‘You’ll enjoy yourself, Callie.’ Damon’s deep voice interrupted her thoughts. ‘Paulo’s home is the last word in luxury. And we’ll visit my resorts. Sybaritic pleasure guaranteed.’

  He thought that was what she wanted? She opened her mouth to disabuse him, but the words crumbled on her tongue as he reached out. One finger stroked a wisp of hair behind her ear then slipped down her cheek, under her jaw line, to nudge her chin up. Suddenly he was only a kiss away.

  His eyes blazed with an intensity that had been missing moments before.

  The fine hairs on her arms rose and a tingling started deep in her belly as she remembered his lips moving against hers. The swirl of fire as his tongue found hers and desire spiralled out of control.

  ‘Come, Paulo. It’s time we left.’

  Startled, Callie dragged her gaze from Damon’s and turned. Embarrassment warmed her cheeks as she met Mariana’s understanding smile and heard Paulo chuckle.

  ‘Very well, woman. We have matters of our own to see to, eh?’ He waggled his eyebrows so obviously Callie had to stifle a smile.

  He shepherded his wife to the door of the luxury cruiser’s main cabin. ‘By the way, Damon, do you still have that dog?’ There was a sparkle in Paulo’s eyes.

  ‘What would I do with a dog? I travel too much.’

  ‘She didn’t die after all?’ Mariana sounded upset.

  ‘Of course not.’ Paulo looped his arm around her. ‘She wouldn’t dare. Not after Damon took her under his wing.’

  Intrigued, Callie looked from one to the other. ‘What dog?’

  ‘Just a pup,’ Damon said brusquely. ‘It was injured in a car accident.’

  ‘The poor thing was being trained as a guide dog,’ Mariana added, ‘when a speeding car hit her. We were the next car along and Damon stopped to help.’

  ‘Which meant hours finding a good vet and sorting things out with its owners,’ Paulo added.

  ‘Sorting things out?’

  ‘They wanted to put her down,’ Damon said gruffly. ‘Just because she had a leg amputated. I arranged to take her.’

  ‘Buy her, don’t you mean? And pay the vet bills.’

  ‘Easy to do, Paulo. I’m not exactly short of cash.’ Damon looked as if he wanted to change the subject.

  Mariana leaned forward and gave him a motherly pat on the cheek. ‘You did more, Damon. You took the poor animal home yourself.’ She turned to Callie. ‘And when he found how long the waiting list was for trained companion dogs he endowed a new breeding facility and training program.’

  Fascinated, Callie watched Damon’s cheeks darken. He looked embarrassed.

  ‘One of your projects to set the world straight,’ Paulo murmured. ‘You’re always trying to make things right.’ He looked at Callie. ‘You’ll find it’s a fixation of Damon’s.’

  ‘You exaggerate as usual, Paulo. You’d have done the same if I hadn’t.’

  ‘So what did happen to the mutt?’

  Damon shrugged. ‘My nephew took a fancy to her and she bonded with him.’ He rubbed his chin, his expression rueful. ‘Only he insists on bringing her sailing. Keeping a four-year-old and his three-legged dog from sliding off a slippery deck has its challenges.’

  Paulo barked with laughter and clapped a hand on Damon’s shoulder. ‘I knew you hadn’t got rid of it. I just wish you were this soft in our business negotiations.’

  ‘So you could fleece me? I’d like to see the day.’

  After more farewells Callie watched Damon escort their guests ashore.

  He was passionate, single-minded and ruthless in getting what he wanted. Yet Damon had an unexpected tender streak. He’d comforted her aboard Circe. He’d organised a chopper to take them to his home, understanding her fear of sailing.

  What sort of self-absorbed tycoon cosseted the woman he’d blackmailed into his bed? Adopted a maimed pup? Went out of his way to fund a guide-dog centre?

  She didn’t understand him. She’d thought him cruel, relentless, motivated only by a desire for revenge and a taste for sensual pleasure. But there was more to his character.

  Donating to charity didn’t make him a saint. Alkis had supported charities, but on the advice of accountants, only to minimise tax. Never because he was moved by their cause.

  She watched Damon walk back aboard and felt an overwhelming need to understand him. To know where she fitted in his world.

  ‘What did Paulo mean about you trying to set the world to rights?’

  He paused then sauntered across the room.

  ‘Paulo exaggerates.’ He met h
er enquiring gaze and she knew he wasn’t going to elaborate. Instead the look in his eyes was intent, making her feel suddenly too warm, too vulnerable.

  She hurried into speech. ‘You were pleased with today’s lunch? With your meeting?’

  In her experience men were easily distracted by what interested them most—their plans to increase profits and prestige. If today’s lunch was any indicator, Damon had reason to smile.

  He shrugged and she couldn’t help but follow the movement of his rangy shoulders.

  ‘The discussions went well. It made a pleasant change to meet on board rather than in an office. Plus there was a lot of interest in this latest cruiser design.’

  His nod encompassed the vast cabin with its aura of wealth. From the impossibly plush carpet to the exquisite marquetry woodwork, sleek, modern design and equipment, the room was the perfect setting for a billionaire.

  Yet Callie remembered how Damon had looked, his hair rumpled by a sea breeze, his feet bare on the decking of Circe. As if he belonged. As if he enjoyed the unfettered freedom and simplicity of the grand old yacht.

  Part of her hankered to experience that moment again. She’d felt for a short, incredible time that, with Damon’s support, she might even conquer her fear of sailing.

  ‘How about you, Callie? Did you enjoy yourself?’ His question took her by surprise. He sounded genuinely curious.

  ‘It was fun. They’re nice people.’ She’d enjoyed herself more than at any social engagement during her marriage.

  What was different? The people? Damon’s friends had none of the brash self-importance of Alkis’ cronies. And the man at her side? With Alkis she’d always felt restricted, judged, undercut by his disapproval. With Damon…

  ‘You were a hit today,’ he murmured, his expression intimate. ‘The men in particular were impressed and very jealous of me.’ His smile was all male triumph.

  Her mouth primmed as a cold, all too familiar weight dropped in her chest.

  So that was why he’d invited her. She should have known.

  He’d invited her to be his hostess, to entertain the women while the men discussed business then help him look after their guests over lunch. She’d felt a spurt of pleasure that Damon valued her assistance. He must have some respect for her, even if only for her social skills.