The Savakis Mistress

by Annie West

  It was emotional strain that made her feel like a wrung-out rag.

  Five months, three weeks and six days since she’d seen Damon.

  With each day she grew more needy, hungrier for a glimpse of the man who’d dragged all her skeletons from where they hid in her cupboard, who’d made her face her greatest fears. The man who’d infuriated her and challenged her and disrupted her life.

  Who’d supported her and listened to her and given her peace as well as pleasure.

  The man she’d rejected because she was too proud to settle for anything less than his love. Because with him she’d finally convinced herself dreams might come true. And her dream was Damon—loving her.

  Her heart plummeted. Now she had the independence and the opportunity she’d fought for so long. It was wonderful, satisfying and challenging. Proof that she was capable. That she was worth more than Alkis or anyone else, herself included, had thought possible.

  But independence wasn’t enough. Not now she’d had a taste of life with Damon.

  She was greedy enough still to dream of what might have been. If only he’d loved her.

  He must have cared for her a little, to go to so much trouble on her behalf. But being pitied and propped up was no life for her. To be cared for because he felt sorry for her—that would have destroyed her. Especially when he moved on to his next charity project.

  Or worse, fell in love with another woman.

  Callie tucked her hair behind her ears, blinking rapidly as she finished unpacking a consignment of lamps.

  No, Damon didn’t love her. He found her sexually compatible. She stirred his protective instincts. But in the end he hadn’t tried to stop her leaving. That had hurt the most, the knowledge she’d been right, that what he felt for her was simply pity.

  By now he’d have moved on. Found another lover. A man like Damon would never be short of female companionship.

  Her teeth sank into her bottom lip in an attempt to stop a betraying wobble.

  Callie avoided the news as much as possible, not wanting to see him with another woman on his arm. She wanted him to be happy but she couldn’t bear the thought of him bestowing that special, bone-melting smile on someone else.

  Her vision blurred.

  ‘They’re beautiful.’ A warm voice behind Callie made her swing round, blinking hard.

  A woman in her late fifties or early sixties beamed at Callie. Her dark eyes gleamed as she gestured to Callie’s silk hangings on the back wall.

  There were only two left of her series of seascapes. One day, when she had more leisure, she’d make some more. Her embroidery work had always been therapeutic, especially in the dark years of marriage when she’d had few outlets for her creativity and energy.

  ‘I’m pleased you like them,’ she murmured.

  Truthfully Callie would be glad to see them go. Those seascapes held too many memories.

  She’d begun them in the early days of widowhood: stormy scenes of lashing waves or foggy, deserted coastlines. She’d finished them in a burst of energy and happiness when she lived with Damon. In those the sea was clear and calm, the mood exultant.

  Looking at them now, so vibrant and serene, Callie felt more than ever she lived in the shadows. Despite the thrill of her initial tentative business success, the joy was missing.

  ‘My daughter tells me they’re your work.’

  ‘Your daughter?’ Callie struggled to focus on the conversation.

  ‘Yes.’ The woman gestured to her elegant companion bending to examine a small bronze sculpture Callie had just put on display. ‘She bought one a few weeks ago and I had to come and see the rest for myself.’ Her smile widened. ‘And the remarkable woman who made them.’

  Callie remembered that hanging so well. Once upon a time she couldn’t have imagined selling it. That scene reminded her of all she’d let slip through her fingers. Of the happiness that had shone so briefly. But in the end keeping it had been too painful.

  ‘Thank you.’ Callie wished she felt more enthusiasm for her work. She should be thrilled, but it was a struggle to summon the energy.

  Yet the older woman’s interest was genuine and Callie forced herself to focus.

  ‘Would you like a closer look at them?’ Together they walked towards the hangings.

  ‘I sew myself, but nothing as beautiful as this,’ her companion said. ‘I can’t believe what you’ve achieved with fabric and thread.’

  ‘Why, thank you. What sort of sewing do you do, Kyria…?’

  ‘Savakis.’ Her dark, intelligent eyes took in Callie’s instant reaction, watching calmly as she jolted to a stop, eyes widening. ‘But please, call me Irini.’

  * * *

  Damon shot to his feet.

  ‘She’s where?’ he barked into the intercom.

  ‘In the foyer, Kyrie Savakis. Shall I tell Reception to send her up?’

  ‘Yes. Straight away.’

  Damon put the phone down, registering the bolt of electricity hot-wiring his body. His pulse leaped at the thought of Callie here. In his office.

  His brain buzzed with possibilities. Why here? Why now? Thoughts crammed and jostled for consideration till he slammed a lid on them.

  He sat back in his chair and propped his fingers under his chin.

  Six months since Callie had run from him. Six torturous months in which he’d plumbed the depths of doubt, fear and despair. Letting her go had tested his resolve beyond bearing. Allowing her distance till she was ready to trust had almost killed him when his instinct had been to hold her close and prevent her leaving.

  She’d left him no option but to stand helplessly and watch the woman he loved walk out of his life. That had gutted him, knowing he’d hurt her and there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation but wait and pray.

  Today he’d reached the end of his endurance. He’d promised himself, after half a year of waiting, he’d visit her apartment this very evening. He’d given her enough time, surely, to deserve a second chance.

  Why was she here?

  His lips thinned. Whatever her intentions, what mattered was the outcome of their meeting.

  There could only be one possible result.

  The alternative, to continue life without her, was unthinkable.

  He’d driven his staff, his friends and his family to their wits’ end, pushing himself harder than ever, yet unable to stick to anything. He’d lost his enthusiasm for work, for socialising. Even for sailing.

  He had to resolve this. Now.

  * * *

  ‘Enter.’

  Callie stepped over the threshold of the massive doorway and halted, her heart leaping against her ribs.

  Just as dark as she remembered. Just as virile and stunningly good-looking. If anything, Damon looked even better than before. Hungrily she devoured the sight of him.

  With his sleeves rolled up, his top button undone and his tie missing, he looked as though he’d been working hard. His hair was slightly rumpled as if he’d dragged those long fingers back through it, as he’d once caressed her own locks.

  Her thoughts juddered to a halt. Intimate images swirled before her and she had to shove them aside.

  ‘Hello, Callie.’ She couldn’t read his voice, or his face, it was poker-blank. Unlike her own. She was sure her roiling emotions were visible for him to see.

  ‘Hello, Damon.’

  The door snicked shut behind her and she jumped, feeling the weight of tension bearing down on her.

  ‘Won’t you take a seat?’

  ‘Thank you.’ She stumbled forward, aware of him assessing every aspect of her appearance. She’d hurried here from the shop. Hadn’t taken time to go home and change. Her clothes were neat but not glamorous. Suddenly she realised that after a long day her tailored jacket and skirt probably looked creased and tired.

  Callie stiffened her spine and met his stare. Closer to him now, she noticed what she hadn’t from the door—the lines of fatigue bracketing his mouth, the way his eyes seemed t

o have sunk a little as if from too little sleep. The grim cast of his solid jaw.

  Her stupid heart pounded. He’d been working too hard.

  But she wasn’t in a position to remonstrate. She wasn’t supposed to care.

  Yet she did, so much it hurt.

  ‘It was good of you to see me.’ She hated her stilted voice, the need to hide behind social niceties and pretend she was calm when her stomach churned with nerves.

  Damon inclined his head.

  Did he deliberately try to make her uncomfortable, sitting on the other side of that vast desk, saying nothing?

  It didn’t matter. Her pride was sawdust and she didn’t care. All that mattered was connecting with him again.

  If he’d let her.

  She’d thought today, when she met his mother, that there was a chance. Just a slim hope he felt something more for her than pity. The fact that he’d talked to his mother about her must mean something, surely? But, looking into his set face, she realised she’d come on a fool’s errand.

  Damon didn’t love her.

  Nerves stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth for so long the silence thickened between them.

  ‘Would you like some refreshments?’

  ‘No. No, thank you.’ She swiped her tongue over her dry lips as she tried to pull herself together.

  ‘I came to apologise,’ she said, meeting his direct gaze. ‘I should have done it before but it took a long time for me to…sort things out.’ She halted but he said nothing.

  ‘I should at least have thanked you for your generosity in refunding what my uncle stole.’

  He made a sudden, slashing gesture. ‘Forget it. It was nothing.’

  She leaned forward. ‘No. You’re wrong. It’s meant everything. It’s allowed me to make a new start. To prove to myself I’m capable of achieving something worthwhile.’

  ‘And that’s important to you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He nodded, his mouth twisting in a lop-sided smile.

  ‘And I wanted to tell you I’ll arrange to start paying you back when—’

  He shot to his feet. ‘You’ll do no such thing!’ His voice reverberated through the still room.

  For the first time Callie saw his eyes spark. She preferred him this way. Even furious was better than the distant aloofness she’d seen since she arrived. Her pulse quickened at the memory of Damon when roused.

  ‘Is that why you came? To settle a debt?’ Despite the glint in his eyes, his voice was cool.

  Callie’s insides nosedived. That was it, then. It had been a ridiculous, forlorn hope that absence would make the heart grow fonder. That Damon would realise it was love he felt for her, not sympathy.

  Her throat closed on bitter salty tears she refused to shed. She groped for the bag at her shoulder.

  It was over. Time to move on.

  Perhaps one day years from now she’d remember what they’d once almost had without the terrible wrenching sense of loss. Fatigue dragged at her limbs and the familiar leaden weight settled on her shoulders.

  ‘Is that all?’

  Callie nodded, avoiding his eyes. ‘Yes, that’s all. Thank you for seeing me. I hope…I hope things work out well for you.’ Hurriedly she stood and spun round towards the door, her eyes misting.

  ‘Wait!’

  Damon’s voice pulled her up short. But it was the artwork on the wall before her that rooted her to the floor. Her eyes bulged as she took it in.

  ‘Come and sit down again, Callie.’

  Numbly she shook her head. She blinked but it was still there, a massive appliquéd scene directly opposite Damon’s desk. Where he’d see it whenever he looked up.

  Her knees began to tremble. Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Damon approaching. Yet she couldn’t drag her eyes from the piece before her.

  ‘You’ve got my picture.’ Her voice was a reedy thread of sound.

  ‘I have.’ His voice was grave. She tore her gaze from the wall and tried to read the gleam in his midnight eyes.

  Not just any picture. Her favourite. The one that meant so much to her she’d once planned never to part with it. The secluded, pine-fringed beach where they’d met.

  ‘Having a glimpse of paradise between business meetings keeps me sane.’ His mouth tugged up on one side, creating a deep, sexy groove in his cheek.

  ‘It’s not paradise.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘It’s—’

  ‘I know exactly where it is.’ He stepped close till he took up her whole vision. There was nothing but him. Callie breathed in the spice and man scent she’d missed for so long. Her eyelids flickered.

  ‘That’s why I asked my sister to get it for me.’

  His gaze challenged. But it was all Callie could do to tamp down the rising bubble of excitement and disbelief inside her.

  ‘That doesn’t bother you?’ he challenged. ‘That you didn’t know she was buying it for me?’

  Callie shook her head, feeling a fizz of energy at the sudden glitter in his eyes.

  ‘There’s more,’ he said. ‘Not just that my sister told me about your work and I asked her to buy this piece.’ His jaw firmed. ‘You might as well know I asked her to visit your store in the first place. To see how you were.’

  Warmth rose at the idea of Damon wanting to check on her. It took a moment to realise some of that warmth flowed from his grasp of her hands.

  ‘Did you ask her to buy other things?’ She tilted her head to one side, trying to read his expression even as her heart pounded a distracting rhythm.

  ‘No. That was her idea. She was so enthusiastic she began telling her friends.’

  ‘I’ve had a lot of word-of-mouth referrals.’ But they were genuine, not orchestrated by Damon.

  ‘You’re not upset?’

  ‘How could I be upset that you cared enough to look out for me?’

  His whole body stilled, eyes narrowing.

  ‘That’s not all.’ He looked so sombre her heart stuttered. ‘I wanted to talk with you about it but you’d made it clear you didn’t want anything to do with me.’

  ‘What did you do?’ She couldn’t believe it was anything terrible but the look on his face worried her. She saw the white lines rim his firm lips, heard his clipped, distant tone and guilt speared her. She’d hurt him.

  ‘I had words with your uncle.’ A flash of satisfaction lit his expression. ‘I persuaded him his interests would be best served by expanding his horizons. He’s taken up an offer to manage one of my enterprises in the Caribbean. His wife isn’t well enough to travel. She’ll stay in Greece, preparing for your cousin’s wedding.’

  ‘That was your doing?’ Astonishment filled her. Callie had spoken to her aunt just days ago. She sounded like a new woman, freed of Uncle Aristides’ bullying influence. ‘You’ve made a terrible mistake,’ she blurted out. ‘He’ll ruin your business!’

  The sudden rich rumble of Damon’s laugh was like a blanket wrapping around her. ‘Don’t worry. His responsibilities aren’t quite as broad as he first thought and he’ll be strictly monitored. He might even have to work for a change.’

  But behind the laughter Damon’s expression was serious.

  ‘You did that for me?’ Callie could barely take it in. This was like a fantasy come true.

  ‘And for Angela and your aunt.’ He stood straighter. ‘You’ll say I was managing your lives.’

  She shook her head. ‘I think it’s wonderful.’

  ‘Truly?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘Even though you left me because I was like your husband, taking charge of your life?’

  ‘No!’ Callie reached out and put her hand on his arm. A surge of energy shot through her as she felt his living warmth. Her heart raced.

  ‘You’re nothing like Alkis!’ The thought horrified her—that he’d believe such a thing. ‘You’re warm and generous and caring.’ Her fingers clenched round his forearm, willing him to believe. ‘You’re…special.’

  His penetrating gaze seared her.

  ‘Then tell me, Callie, why did you walk out when I was about to ask you to marry me?’

  * * *

  Damon felt the spasm of shock rip through her taut body. Saw her eyes widen. In pleasure or pain?

  His gut churned. Anxiety pulled every muscle and sinew tight. He’d given her six months to realise what they had together was special. Had he any hope at all?

  ‘Don’t, please.’ Her jade eyes shone with distress and Damon felt a blow hammer his heart, robbing him of breath.

  ‘You don’t need to…’ She looked away, the picture of misery.

  Not as miserable as he’d be if he let her go again. It had nearly killed him the first time, even knowing he had to let her have her freedom if she was ever to return willingly.

  ‘Don’t need to what, Callie?’

  She blinked and he touched a finger to her cheek, feeling the tears slide down her soft skin. His lungs contracted at the sight of her pain.

  ‘Don’t cry, Callie mou. Please.’ It tore him apart to see her in pain.

  ‘I know you feel sorry for me. But please—you can’t marry me out of pity!’ She hiccoughed and he wrapped his other hand around her, tugging her close.

  It had been so long since he’d held her. Too long. His heart seized at the feel of her here, where she belonged.

  ‘What are you talking about, glikia mou?’

  ‘I…I…’ Huge, tear-drenched eyes met his and, despite his confusion, he felt the inevitable spark of desire igniting.

  ‘I’ve fallen in love with you,’ she said in a rush. ‘You must have realised that. But I can’t bear to think of you staying with me out of pity.’

  ‘You think I’d do that?’

  She nodded, eyes overbright. ‘Everything you did for me—I understand it wasn’t personal. That it was altruistic, your need to right wrongs, but—’

  ‘Altruistic be damned!’ He hauled her even closer, wrapping his arms round her as if he’d never let her go. Impressing her body against his.

  ‘That’s why you left? You thought I felt sorry for you?’

  She nodded against his chest and elation buoyed him as never before.

  ‘The proposal still stands, Callie. I want you to marry me. I even have a ring to prove it.’

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