by Sara Craven
Get real, she told herself, scornfully. It won’t be the first dubious transaction of this kind that he’s been involved with. Not when he works for a man like Alex Mandrakis.
Nor would it be the last.
And suddenly, for no good reason that she could fathom, Natasha found herself sinking her teeth painfully into her lower lip.
The summons to the conference room came a few minutes later. Allowing sufficient time for her message to be delivered, Natasha thought bleakly as she allowed herself to be ushered down the corridor, only Madame Papadimos and her daughters-in-law remaining behind as non-board members.
Drawing a deep breath, she took her seat at the foot of the long polished table, Stavros and Andonis providing a solid bulwark between Irini and herself.
But she could still feel the other’s dislike reaching out to her like the first scorching touch of a naked flame.
What’s the matter with her? Natasha wondered silently. Surely she can’t hold me responsible in any way for what’s happened?
The opposing lawyers were lined up on either side of the table, bulging document files open in front of them, maintaining an appearance of civilised professional chat, while secretaries were bustling in with bottled water and trays of thick, sweet coffee.
But nothing could lessen the tingling tension in the room. The oppressive suggestion that some countdown had begun.
Because, at the head of the table, an empty chair was waiting. A throne for the conqueror, she thought bitterly. Whenever he chose to appear in order to stake his claim to his new empire.
And to herself…
It occurred to her uneasily that she should probably have informed her brothers in advance of her reluctant agreement with Alex Mandrakis. Warned them what to expect.
Except that they’d have undoubtedly gone into full explosion mode, she thought with a silent sigh, possibly wrecking the single concession her surrender had achieved in the process. She could not risk that.
But perhaps, too, she was still foolishly hoping—praying—that even now he might have a last-minute change of heart. That he might decide she was not worth the effort, after all, and simply accept her spoken compliance with his wishes instead of the coldly resentful physical capitulation which was the most he could hope for.
If so, there would be no need to say anything at all. And last night, therefore, could be put behind her as if it had never happened.
Unless…
But she wouldn’t let herself think about that. Refused to consider the possibility that her first, soulless encounter with a man might, even now, be bearing fruit.
Not that, she thought passionately. I can stand anything but that.
She was not watching the door at the far end of the room, yet she knew the exact moment when Alex Mandrakis finally came in.
It was not necessary for her to look up from her fixed scrutiny of the table, because a faint tremor went through her, as if a lazy fingertip had trailed the length of her spine, even before the scrape of chairs announced that the legal fraternity had risen respectfully to greet him.
Under her shirt, her skin felt damp. She had to resist an impulse to shift restlessly, to lick dry lips and raise a nervous hand to push back a stray tress of hair.
Beside her, she saw Andonis’s hands clench on the table until the knuckles turned white, and she placed a hand gently over his taut fist.
‘Don’t let him see,’ she whispered under her breath. ‘Never let him see.’
Alex Mandrakis spoke calmly and quietly in his own language, bidding everyone present good afternoon, and welcoming them to the meeting. There was no false note, or audible gloating in his voice.
As if, Natasha thought almost dazedly, this was just another day, with just another deal to be done. As maybe it was—for him. But not for them, or for the distraught women waiting in the other room.
And not for me…
As people resumed their seats, she ventured a swift glance under her lashes. But he was not looking at her, as she’d half expected. His attention was fixed on the sheaf of papers that had been placed in front of him, and which were being delivered to everyone else round the table, herself included. His expression was aloof and even a little stern.
As the man with glasses, who introduced himself as Ari Stanopoulos, rose to outline the main features of the buyout, Stavros and Andonis were leafing through their bundles of documents almost feverishly, their faces strained and dejected as each item of bad news was finally and irrevocably confirmed.
But as he reached the end, Andonis gave a smothered gasp. ‘The house,’ he muttered behind his hand. ‘There is no mention of the house. Perhaps that devil has some atom of humanity, after all.’
But he’d obviously not spoken quietly enough, because all heads turned in their direction, and Alex Mandrakis himself looked down the table at them, his mouth twisting in cynical hauteur.
He said silkily, ‘Or perhaps I have decided to trade it for something I prefer, Kyrios Papadimos.’
And for a nanosecond, his gaze flicked to Natasha.
No one else could possibly have noticed, but she was aware of the fleeting caress of his eyes, just as he’d intended she should be, and she felt her body burn suddenly under her clothes. She poured some water into a glass and drank, forcing the cool liquid past the tightening muscles in her throat, as she made herself accept that there would be no reprieve. That he intended to enforce their unholy deal.
There was a pause, then Ari Stanopoulos, with a slight cough, renewed his summary of terms, while Stavros and Andonis exchanged bewildered shrugs.
Natasha let the words brush over her, without even attempting to follow them. Her mind was already reaching ahead to the end of the meeting. To the ‘trade’, and all its implications.
You do what you have to do, she told herself steadily, as and when he requires, and no more. You don’t protest, and you don’t plead. You speak only when spoken to. You ask for nothing. You don’t look at him unless you have to, you certainly don’t smile, and you never cry. That above all.
She realised that Ari Stanopoulos had finished and sat down, allowing the Papadimos lawyers to voice their objections, but it was clear their hearts weren’t in it. They’d been defeated long before this meeting had been scheduled, and they knew it.
It’s all over bar the shouting, she thought as she took the pen she was handed and silently signed her name where indicated. And the shouting was probably about to begin.
She watched the broad smiles of the Mandrakis team as they shook hands with each other, exuberantly applauding the young man sitting quietly and collectedly at the head of the table.
‘Let us go,’ Stavros growled, getting to his feet. ‘I wish to get out of here, before I choke.’
Alex Mandrakis pushed back his chair, and rose too, the hubbub around him silencing immediately.
He said softly, ‘Natasha mou,’ and held out his hand.
So this was how it was to be done, she thought as her stomach churned. Publicly and irrevocably, just as he’d warned.
Andonis was glaring at him. ‘You dare to address our sister by her given name?’ he challenged belligerently.
She put a hand on his arm. Her legs were shaking under her, but she kept her voice clear and steady. ‘You do not understand, brother. Kyrios Mandrakis has invited me to become his companion for a while, and I—I have accepted.’
She added, ‘So there’s really no more to be said.’
And, head held high, she walked the length of the hushed room to where Alex waited for her, a faint smile playing about his mouth.
CHAPTER SIX
AS NATASHA reached him, Alex took her hand and raised it courteously to his lips, only to turn it so that his kiss found, instead, the inside of her wrist, making the startled pulse leap and judder at the swift brush of his mouth.
Something he was no doubt well aware of, she thought, cursing him under her breath as her face warmed helplessly.
‘Tramp! Whore!’ The
stunned silence in the room was suddenly interrupted by the screeched words from Irini, jumping to her feet, her face contorted. She pointed a shaking finger. ‘Have I not always said, brothers, that we should not trust this English witch that our father brought to our home? See now how she betrays his memory with her lust for his enemy!’
Natasha moved swiftly—convulsively—her skin not merely warm now but burning, and felt Alex’s grasp tighten almost warningly on her fingers.
‘Control her.’ His instruction was curt, as he looked coldly down the table at Stavros and Andonis. ‘Explain to her, some time, how her insults are completely undeserved. How this girl beside me, who has been a sister to you, is the real, the only victim of betrayal. And how it is thanks to her alone that your home still remains to you. Or had you not realised that?’
His condemnatory glance moved to Irini, standing now between the two crestfallen Papadimos men. He added icily, ‘Maybe, thespinis, you should practise gratitude instead of calling Kyria Natasha names as foul as they are untrue.’
He paused. ‘Our business is now concluded, and you are all free to go.’ He released Natasha’s hand, instead encircling her with his arm, drawing her against him. He said softly, ‘Except, of course, for you, my heart’s delight. We have a journey to make together.’
She stood in silence, staring down at the floor as the room emptied, acutely conscious of the lithe warmth of his body against hers. Angered by an awareness she seemed unable to control.
When they were finally alone, she said bitterly, ‘Why did you bother to defend me against Irini? Isn’t that what you wanted her—and everyone else—to think?’
‘Originally, yes,’ he said. ‘Now they will all know, as well as I do myself, that you were a virgin when I took you, and that will be a much deeper wound for their pride, matia mou, believe me.’
Something that was almost a pain seemed to twist inside her, but was instantly dismissed. After all, she thought with an inward shrug, what else had she expected him to say? The feud was the only thing that mattered to him, and she was simply an integral part of his victory. He would never forget that, and neither would she.
He reached up a hand and removed the clips from her hair, letting it tumble free to her shoulders.
He said quietly, ‘I told you last night. I like to see it loose.’
She was expecting him to pull her fully into his arms and kiss her, to establish his domination if nothing else, and was surprised to find herself released as he moved away to lean back against the edge of the table.
She swallowed. ‘May I ask about this trip you’re planning? You may have noticed I don’t have a great deal of luggage with me.’
‘That will not be a problem,’ he said, smiling faintly. ‘Arrangements have already been made to provide you with a new wardrobe,’ he went on softly. ‘You will find it waiting for you later.’
She gasped. ‘You’ve bought me clothes?’ Her voice rose. ‘But that’s not possible. You don’t even know my correct size in—in anything.’
‘I could have guessed,’ he said drily, his eyes travelling down her body, ‘but I did not have to. A maid that Kyria Irini recently dismissed for clumsiness told me happily all I needed to know.’
Natasha stiffened. ‘Was there anyone working at the Villa Demeter who was not in your pay?’ she asked.
‘The cook,’ he said, ‘and the gardeners. I decided to discover for myself the food and flowers you favoured.’
‘But when it came to clothes, of course, it would never occur to you that I might prefer to choose my own stuff.’
‘Stuff is right,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘if that suit you are wearing is an example of your taste. Believe me, matia mou, its only charm is to remind me of how lovely you look without it.’
‘And if I refuse to wear the things you’ve bought for me?’ she demanded defiantly.
He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Then go naked.’ He sounded almost bored. ‘Whatever you decide will be no hardship for me, I promise.’
She bit down the cutting remark she longed to fling back at him. She had to stop picking fights she couldn’t win, she thought bitterly, and remember only that she’d made a deal with herself to endure whatever he said—whatever he did—and she needed to keep to it. The way he looked at her, the way he touched her could not be allowed to be of any concern to her.
‘Very well,’ she said, keeping her voice neutral. ‘I’ll wear what you’ve provided, if I must.’
‘You are gracious indeed,’ he said silkily. ‘And, as a reward for your reluctant co-operation, I will make you a small gift.’
Jewellery, I presume, Natasha thought, biting her lip. As a symbol of his munificence, I have to be lit up like a Christmas tree.
But the hand that emerged from inside his jacket was not holding the flat leather case she’d expected, but an envelope.
She took it from him, and put it in her own pocket.
‘Aren’t you curious to know what it contains?’ he asked.
‘Not unless it’s a one-way airline ticket to London,’ she said. ‘And that I doubt somehow.’
He clicked his tongue reprovingly. ‘Your desire to be rid of me is almost wounding, Natasha mou.’
‘But the cuts are hardly deep, and I’m sure you heal very easily, Kyrios Mandrakis,’ she returned tautly. ‘Besides, consolation won’t be too far away.’
‘Not if I choose to seek it, no. But for now, I look forward to my desires being satisfied by you alone, agapi mou. Because in the days to come, the journey you make with me will be into pleasure. And you will not find it as difficult as you expect.’
He allowed her to assimilate that, and added, ‘But, for now, you will be free of me for a few hours, as I need to spend some time at my office. I will join you for dinner later.
‘You will go with Iorgos, after Ari Stanopoulos has spoken with you.’
‘Your fixer?’ It was difficult to keep her voice steady, with his words about pleasure still echoing in her head. ‘I thought I’d already had my interview with him.’
‘But there are also arrangements to be made in London to cover your absence, or had you forgotten such a place existed in the pleasure of my company?’
He smiled at her. ‘You have rent to pay, ne? A partner in business to be reassured and supplied with help also? Ari will deal with all these concerns on your behalf. You need have no worries.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said bitterly. ‘Life is the proverbial bowl of cherries. And I suppose in due time Mr Stanopoulos will invent a discreet lie about my current whereabouts that I can take home with me.
‘Or shall I simply say I was abducted by aliens? It doesn’t feel too far from the truth.’
He said gently, ‘Then I shall have great joy in demonstrating to you that I am indeed human—and male. And if I were not awaited elsewhere I would do so here and now.’
As he moved away from the table Natasha took an involuntary step backwards, and his smile widened.
‘Not so brave, suddenly, agapi mou?’ he taunted her softly. ‘Then stay that way, and please don’t sharpen your tongue on Ari. He is easily shocked. And play me no tricks, either,’ he added as he turned away. ‘Unlike the staff at the Villa Demeter, my people are loyal. No one will assist you in a daring escape. Besides, you know, I think, what the consequences would be for your family.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’ve made that more than clear.’ She paused. ‘Have they already left, because I would like to say goodbye?’
Alex swung back. ‘After what they have done to you—the things that have been said?’ His tone was frankly sceptical. ‘You are very forgiving.’
She said steadily, ‘No, I’m not. I only want to speak to—to Thia Theodosia. That is, if she’s still prepared to have anything to do with me.’
His voice was suddenly harsh. ‘You should not humble yourself, agape mou. Please believe that you have no reason to do so.’ At the door, he paused, glancing back to where she stood, taut, her hands balled into fists
at her sides.
‘Nor do you have to be afraid of me,’ he said. ‘Not again.’ And went.
She did not have to ask for Madame Papadimos, because it seemed that Thia Theodosia had already requested to see her, and was waiting to do so.
‘She is in my office, Kyria Kirby,’ Mr Stanopoulos told her politely. ‘You will not be disturbed there.’
The only wall in the room that was not lined with books had a massive leather sofa standing against it instead, and Thia Theodosia, looking small, was seated in one deep corner.
She did not smile and the dark eyes had pain in their depths as Natasha came to sit next to her.
‘Is it true, little one?’ she asked quietly. ‘Have you given yourself to Alexandros Mandrakis? Consented to live with him as his mistress so that the Villa Demeter can remain in our possession?’
There was a silence, then Natasha nodded, jerkily. She said, an open ache in her voice, ‘I—I wouldn’t let him make you homeless. But I realise what you must be thinking, and I—I’m so sorry.’
‘You are sorry?’ The older woman spoke with genuine astonishment. ‘But how can this be, dear child, when you are to blame for nothing?’ She sighed heavily. ‘No, pedhi mou, this tragedy is my fault, and mine alone. I should have stopped it all a long time ago, but I did not have the courage.
‘Now, sadly, the wheel has come full circle, and, like so many other innocents, you are the one to suffer.’
She paused. ‘You should not have made such a sacrifice, but even so, it is not too late. You can leave with me now. Let the house go to Mandrakis, if he wants it, and allow my so clever sons to plot themselves a new future—if they can.’
Natasha bent her head. She said quietly, ‘I gave my word to Kyrios Mandrakis, and I won’t go back on it. I—can’t.
‘Irini accused me of betraying her father’s memory, and that’s exactly what I’d be doing if I allowed his home—the house he loved so much, and where he lived with you—to be taken by his enemies, along with everything else. I owe Thio Basilis far too much to let that happen.’