‘Do you want...do you want to go and circulate?’ she whispered, because now the dance was beginning to feel dangerously erotic. Her breasts were throbbing and tender and her skin was on fire. She could feel a silken tug at the juncture of her thighs as he tightened his hold on her and she swayed in his arms.
‘No, Marnie.’ His voice was uneven. ‘The only thing I want to circulate is you.’
But that wasn’t strictly true. Leon felt so turned on by having her in his arms like this that he could barely move. Against the musculature of his body her light weight and soft curves were tantalising, her subtle scent causing his heart to race like a train. With the tips of his fingers he began stroking her back, unable to resist touching her. He felt her instant shiver in response. He swallowed. It felt as though he were touching her bare skin and the provocation of that was making him grow hard. He thought her breasts seemed bigger than usual, as if they had expanded in the warmth of the Greek day. Or maybe the bodice of her dress could no longer defy gravity and contain their lush weight. He could feel her nipples getting tauter against his chest—and he buried his face in her hair, overcome by a sudden sensation which made him feel almost light-headed.
She was so different from any other woman he’d ever met and suddenly he found himself listing all the reasons why. She wasn’t pretending to feel things in order to impress him. She didn’t want his money and worked hard to pay her own way. She was here because she wanted to be and not because she wanted to be seen with him—indeed hadn’t she been noticeably uncomfortable when she’d seen the crush of people when they’d arrived? His billionaire status meant nothing to her—she had proved that over and over again. Was it possible that this woman—the most unlikely candidate of all—should make him rethink what he wanted from life?
‘Marnie,’ he said huskily.
‘Mmm?’ She dragged her head away from where it had been resting against his chest and looked up into his face.
Her eyes were wide and her lips utterly irresistible and something clenched deep inside his chest. Oblivious to the watching eyes and his usual restraint in public, he started to kiss her. And suddenly the world tipped on its axis. He could feel the tremble of her lips and heard the sigh of pleasure she gave as his tongue began to explore her mouth. Or was he confusing that sound with his own shuddered groan, as he revelled in the taste of her and found himself thinking that he’d never known anything quite so delicious as this kiss.
He knew he should stop what they were doing and move this upstairs to the bedroom, but for once his famously steely self-control was eluding him. What the hell did she do to him, that all his certainties suddenly seemed as insubstantial as dust? He was fired up by something he’d never felt before, something he couldn’t seem to evaluate. It was a feeling of excitement, tempered with calm. It was comfort and joy. It was anticipation and serenity—all spiced with a powerful sense of desire which pulsed through his veins like a fever. It was feeling as if he’d come home at last. Properly home. Not to a vast, cold mansion where he’d spent so much time alone, nor to any number of lonely luxury houses in enviable locations, but to a place of sanctuary which wasn’t defined by bricks and mortar but by the soft, giving woman he was holding.
He kissed her again. And again. And perhaps if he hadn’t been so captivated by her, he might have noticed the dark-clad figure moving stealthily around the edge of the dance floor. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice anything except the shining blonde in his arms.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT WAS A NIGHTMARE.
It couldn’t be happening.
But it was. It was happening right now and right here.
Marnie’s first clue that something was wrong was an early-morning phone check to discover dozens of missed calls from numbers she didn’t recognise, including several from Pansy, who never called at this time in the morning.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, she raked her hair out of her eyes and stared down at the screen, but even in the midst of such unusual telephone activity her thoughts were flitting elsewhere and there was no mystery about who was dominating them.
Leon.
She puffed out a sigh of sheer pleasure. He had taken his jet to Paris at some unearthly hour and she must have fallen asleep after he’d gone, but not before he’d kissed her with a hard stamp of possession which had made her toes curl. Her finger hovering above the call button, she couldn’t prevent a smile of satisfaction from creeping over her lips.
They’d only arrived back from Greece late last night, leaving his father’s house straight after the wedding—thank goodness—and then taking a yacht down to Leon’s new property in Thessaloniki. And she had loved it. Just loved it. Its spectacular position on the edge of the sea was the only thing the house had in common with Leon’s forbidding childhood home. With light-filled and airy rooms, it had been the antithesis of the cold mansion they’d just left.
In the warm October sunshine, they had picnicked on the beach and swum in the sea. Marnie had sailed for the first time in her life and surprised herself by enjoying it, although Leon was an excellent and very patient teacher. They’d even had a midnight skinny dip in his enormous infinity pool, with a giant moon reflected silver in the rippling waters. And they’d been having sex. Non-stop sex, actually.
Marnie leaned back against the pillows and stared dreamily at the ceiling. At times, she’d thought Leon had been almost...
Loving?
No. Surely that was nothing but wishful thinking. But he had definitely been behaving differently towards her. For a start, he had practically ravished her on the dance floor at the wedding—something she hadn’t been expecting. And it hadn’t stopped there. It was difficult to put it into words, exactly, but his behaviour had made her decide that maybe she didn’t need to walk away from the relationship quite yet. As long as she kept her emotions in check—and surely she’d had enough practice to be able to do that?—and they continued to be discreet now they were back in England, there was no reason why this blissful state of affairs shouldn’t continue for a little while longer.
She stared at her phone but before she’d a chance to hit the call button an icon of a pouting Pansy began flashing on the screen and Marnie answered immediately.
‘Morning,’ she said cheerfully.
‘Have you seen the online edition of the Daily View?’ demanded her twin, without bothering to return her greeting.
‘You know I never read the tabloids.’
‘Well, maybe you should. In fact, I would study that one with particular care. And then you’d better call me back. And just to let you know—one of the stylists from Hair Heaven has put a link to the piece on social media and it’s already had hundreds of “likes”.’ There was a short, tense pause. ‘Oh, Marnie, what have you got yourself into? I knew getting yourself mixed up with Leon Kanonidou was only ever going to end in tears. Have you told him?’
‘Told him what?’
‘About Mum.’
There was a pause as a trickle of fear started sliding down Marnie’s spine. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, I’ve never told him.’
‘Why not? When are you going to get it into your thick head that it’s not your fault, Marnie?’
‘He doesn’t need to know,’ she answered, her voice hollow.
Pansy gave a laugh which sounded bitter. ‘Well, good luck with that. I think he’s about to find out—if he doesn’t know already.’
Now in a state of terror, Pansy cut the call and went straight into the sitting room to find her laptop. Plonking herself down on the sofa, she scrolled to the free, online version of the Daily View newspaper, which apparently had one of the biggest circulations on the planet.
It didn’t take long to find it—not when it was splashed all over the top of the page. Marnie’s stomach twisted into a writhe of knots as she stared at it. Because there, in glorious Technicolor, was a photo of her dancing with Leo
n at his father’s wedding. Only dancing didn’t seem a very accurate way of describing what the camera had captured. They were all over each other. As if their bodies had been joined together with superglue. There were accompanying comments from some of the other guests saying how close they’d been, along with snatched photos which had obviously been taken on people’s phones.
It was bad, but the headline made it even worse.
Upstaging his father’s wedding!
Marnie’s heart contracted as she read the piece.
When Greek shipping magnate Stavros Kanonidou (eighty-five) tied the knot with his latest young bride this weekend, his billionaire son, Leonidas (thirty-three), made sure all eyes were focussed on him. It seems heart-throb Leon has exited the marriage market at last, judging by his tactile display on the dance floor with nubile blonde English hairdresser Marnie Porter.
Just who is Marnie Porter and how has she managed to land herself one of the world’s most eligible bachelors?
Phone this number if you know. (We pay for any information used.)
Marnie felt faint. Dizzy. A wave of pain and regret made her glad she was sitting down because she honestly didn’t think her trembling knees could have supported her. When her phone began to buzz, she looked down to see another unknown number flashing on the screen. A journalist? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. She turned it to silent just as Leon’s chef tiptoed in to deposit a cup of steaming black coffee in front of her, but when she mimed eating—presumably asking if she wanted breakfast—Marnie shook her head because the thought of food made her want to heave.
But as well as the pain, the irony of the situation didn’t miss her. It seemed that just as she’d got used to this rarefied life with its servants and planes and luxury yachts it was about to be taken away from her. She didn’t care about the trappings, the only thing she cared about was the man and she needed to speak to Leon. She badly needed to tell him before anyone else did.
He didn’t answer. Not the first time she tried, nor even the fifth. After an hour had gone by, she sent him a text.
Please ring. It’s urgent.
But Leon didn’t ring, or text, and after she’d sent the chef away for the rest of the day Marnie began to pace around the huge apartment like a caged animal, staring out of the vast windows without really noticing the park’s blazing autumnal display. It was past noon when she realised she hadn’t even taken a shower and she was just emerging from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, when she heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock.
She froze. And wasn’t it funny the things which crossed your mind at moments of high tension? So that instead of wondering just how she was going to tell him, she found herself wondering whether or not she should call his name and let him know where she was.
But it seemed there was no need, because she could hear Leon striding down the corridor and when he walked into the bedroom, loosening his tie, she couldn’t seem to read anything from the tight, closed look on his face. His icy gaze scanned over her and she thought about how he’d made amazing love to her that very morning and somehow she couldn’t imagine that ever happening again.
‘Get dressed and then come to my office,’ he ordered succinctly. ‘I’ll be waiting.’
Here came another stupid dilemma—deciding what to wear. And although there were plenty of exquisite clothes in the wardrobe which Leon had bought for her, Marnie couldn’t bring herself to put any of them on. The clock had struck midnight. It was time to return to her familiar rags. Wriggling into a pair of tracksuit bottoms, she swathed her bosom in a roomy top, unable to miss the faintly contemptuous curve of his lips as she walked into his office, where he was sitting perched on the edge of his desk.
‘Sit down,’ he said, gesturing towards the brown leather sofa on which they’d once spent a very passionate couple of hours one rainy Sunday afternoon.
‘I’ll stand if you don’t mind,’ she declined stiffly. As a doyenne of the formal reprimand, she was conscious that he might be employing a touch of psychological warfare here. Did he want her passively seated—and was he intending to make it seem as if he were interviewing her, as if she were his subordinate?
And aren’t you?
Aren’t you?
Had she ever imagined for more than a second that she was really his equal?
There was silence for a moment while he studied a paperweight containing an iridescent shell, before lifting his gaze to hers—and it seemed she had forgotten how beautiful his eyes were and how sometimes his gaze could wash over you, as brilliant and as blue as the ocean itself.
‘So, where do we begin, Marnie?’ he questioned heavily.
‘That’s up to you,’ she answered, in a low voice. ‘How much do you know? Have you been told that my mother was a prostitute?’
‘Yes.’
She nodded. Had one of the journalists prised out that particular nugget and presented it to him, or had someone in his office been tasked with uncovering her past? It didn’t matter. She had often wondered how it would feel to talk about this to someone, to open the door on a room which had been kept closed and locked for so long. And although she knew that what she was about to say was going to bring to an end this part of her life with Leon, wasn’t there another part of her which felt a funny sense of relief to be able to unload the dark and heavy burden, after so many years of carrying it around?
‘Do you want to hear why?’
‘Not really.’
It hurt to think he didn’t care enough to want to find out more—but wasn’t that just another layer of hurt to add to all the others which were building up inside her?
‘Well, I’m going to tell you anyway,’ she said, suddenly fierce—and Marnie realised that maybe she was defending the indefensible. But really, she was defending her mum.
‘She came from the north of England,’ she said slowly. ‘They said she’d had a tough childhood. A father who drank and who liked to beat her mother. He beat my mum, too, and I think...’ For a moment her voice faded away as she recalled the other things she’d heard. Things buried too deep ever to be resurrected. Dark things hinted at by social workers, too tired and overworked to know how to deal with two angry and confused little girls.
‘Anyway, she ran away to London and got in with a bad crowd. It’s as simple as that, really. There was no safety net—and if there was she had no idea how to access it. Nobody to look out for her. She got pregnant by one of her clients.’ Her mouth was working like crazy now, but years of practice meant she was able to keep the prick of tears at bay. ‘I guess I should be grateful that she kept us.’
She lifted her chin, aware that her voice was trembling, waiting for him to prompt her—and when he didn’t, she continued of her own accord.
‘I told you I didn’t remember anything about my early years, but, of course, I did.’
‘Yes,’ he breathed. ‘I imagine you did.’
‘I remember we used to have to stay very quiet whenever she had clients round. I remember the sounds they used to make.’ She pulled a face. ‘That was probably what put me off sex for so long. We used to sit upstairs in our bedroom and I would whisper little games for Pansy to play to keep her amused. We always kept the door locked, of course. And it wasn’t all bad. If...’ Her voice wavered again. ‘If mum had had a particularly good night, then she used to go to the corner shop next day and buy us a cake, for tea. Ch-cherry was our favourite.’
‘Go on,’ he said grimly.
Marnie nodded, but the bitter lump which had risen in her throat was suddenly making it very difficult for her to breathe. ‘Then she got pneumonia. It was all very quick. One minute we were being taken into care while mum went into hospital and the next we were told she’d died.’ She shrugged. ‘And it was as if she had never existed.’
‘You didn’t go to the funeral?’ he said, as though this mattered, as though he were remem
bering the secrecy surrounding his own mother’s illness.
‘No. Things were different then. As you know yourself. Apparently they thought we would get over the whole experience more quickly if we moved on. So we did. We were sent to a children’s home and from there we were farmed out to various foster families, but nobody wanted to adopt us.’
‘Why not?’
She shrugged. ‘We were too damaged, I guess. Too suspicious and too close and too much of a handful. They tried to split us up but I made sure that was never going to happen.’
Marnie’s knees felt wobbly and she would have loved to have taken Leon up on his offer and to have sunk into that squishy sofa, but that would mean she was looking up at him and would definitely put him at an advantage. And he certainly didn’t need any more advantages. Besides, how would she be able to leave quickly and with dignity if she had to haul herself up? ‘It’s okay, Leon. You don’t have to worry about how to tell me. It’s over. I know that. Who wants a girlfriend with a past like mine?’
He stood up then and she could see the shadows which were flitting like dark clouds across his face, making him look like a Leon she didn’t recognise. His blue eyes were boring into her with a coldness she’d never seen directed at her before.
‘It’s not okay,’ he negated harshly. ‘It might have been if you’d told me all this right from the start.’
‘Really? And how would that have worked?’ She gave a bitter laugh. ‘Should I have thrown it into the conversation on our first date? Maybe confided it when I came to see you at your office, or murmured it as pillow talk a little further down the line? At what stage of our relationship should I have told you the truth, Leon?’
‘But surely that’s the whole damned point!’ he ground out. ‘That you didn’t tell me the truth. That you feigned ignorance and pretended. That in essence you lied to me, Marnie. And I can bear a lot of things, but not lies.’
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