Blackmailed Into the Greek Tycoon's Bed

by Carol Marinelli

  Till this morning.

  Karin had been taking her morning coffee-break, sitting in the library-staffroom and reading an article in the newspaper about the start of the Six Nations rugby tournament that was due to begin the following February. A small piece about the lavish hotel in Twickenham where the England rugby team would be for a charity event had caught her eye. It would seem that the owner, a Greek shipping tycoon, had an impressive display of sports memorabilia, she’d read—his latest acquisition, the bespoke ruby-rose.

  Karin lived a rigid and ordered life. She chose to; it was better that than succumb to the reckless, gluttonous gene that had ultimately killed her parents and was now wreaking havoc on her brother. She rarely acted on impulse.

  But an hour ago she had.

  Pleading a sudden migraine, she had grabbed her coat and hailed a taxi—and now here she was, in a place where she could barely afford a sandwich. Appearances to the Wallises were everything, so Karin had ordered refreshments and had sat to draw breath and try to form a plan. And then she had seen it, locked behind glass, just a few metres from where she sat.

  It had been cleaned.

  As she walked over to examine it, for a moment she wondered if it was her rose, but of course it was. In fact, glittering, sparkling and lovingly restored to its pristine glory, it was just as she remembered it from her childhood. Long-ago days when she would press her face to the glass and ask to hold the ‘fairy wand’, as she had called it. Bending her knees slightly and peering closely into the cabinet, she realised she was practically doing that now.

  ‘My rose is very beautiful, yes?’ A low, heavily accented voice reminded her of her surroundings, and Karin quickly straightened up.

  ‘Very,’ came her rigid response, her teeth grinding together as this man, who introduced himself as Xante Rossi, dared to tell her some more about it, dared to give her its history. Her head turned in confrontation, especially when he dared to refer to the rose as his.

  ‘Actually…’ When finally she faced him, Karin only managed a single word. So violent was her reaction to this man, she felt as if she’d been side-swiped. His black eyes slammed into hers and it felt as though she was falling into a dangerous spin. She wanted desperately to slam on the brakes, to swerve, to do something, but instead she stood for a telling moment, just too stunned to react.

  Usually she wore her frozen shield well, but, so focussed had she been on the rose, for a moment she had dropped her guard and utterly lost her aloof facade. Her face was flaming, as in one lingering second she took in the raven hair and the straight Roman nose. But it was the black eyes that continued to hold hers for a fraction longer than was decent, his full, sensual mouth curving into a slight smile as he gauged the intensity of her reaction.

  This would take no time at all!

  ‘Here.’ He unlocked the display cabinet. Xante did not need to show off, to impress, but somehow he did want to impress her. He was quietly pleased with his latest acquisition, the ruby rose the perfect accessory for his top-class hotel. He took no real pleasure in the actual possession of it, or the rest of his memorabilia. It was more that he thrived on the drive it had taken to succeed. But the rose really was exceptionally beautiful, and represented the lion-hearted men of England. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out the trinket.

  ‘It deserves closer inspection; you are welcome to hold it,’ Xante said, and Karin blinked, watching as long-fingered, olive-skinned hands unlocked the cabinet. A heavy, expensive watch was revealed beneath the pristine white cuffs of his shirt, the sharp cut of his immaculate suit moving to accommodate wide shoulders as he bent to retrieve the jewel. Even the back of his head was sexy. Jet-black hair, without a single hint of grey, was superbly cut into a delicious point at the back of his neck. As he stood to his impressive height her guard shot up. Hypervigilant now, Karin deliberately didn’t look at him. He was flirting, and Karin knew it. She didn’t usually look at men like that, didn’t invite them in, and with good reason. If he hadn’t been handing her the rose, she’d have paid her bill and left, would have terminated contact there and then. Except she could feel the familiar, cool weight of the trinket in her hand.

  ‘Excuse me, sir…’ The hotel manager brought welcome diversion for Karin, but not Xante. ‘Another player has just arrived.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Xante had to go. It was right that he go, but he also wanted to return. It would be rude to take the jewel from her now and lock it up; she was staring at it so intently, enjoying its beauty, just as Xante was enjoying hers. She had the most exquisite eyes, the only flash of colour in her pale face, a rich turquoise-green, a colour that reminded Xante of the Aegean Sea of home…Dangerous seas, Xante simultaneously reminded himself and discounted. She was a lady; Xante was sure of it. In an instant he’d made up his mind. ‘Enjoy.’ He gave her another devastating smile. ‘I shall be back in just a moment.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE’D left her with it.

  As Xante walked off, Karin stood reeling at the turn of events. She’d walked in here with no notion or plan, and the owner had just handed the rose to her and left her with it.

  It was a sign surely that it was hers to do with as she wished.

  Karin had never stolen a thing in her life. Not once had such a thing entered her head. But it entered it now. She had come here on impulse, to plead with the buyer just to see it…She truly didn’t know. She had no money to buy it back; her brother Matthew had spent it before Karin had even realised the rose was missing.

  And now here it was, in her hands, and this man had no idea who she was…

  Her heart was pounding, her head whirring with indecision.

  It belonged in her family, Karin frantically reasoned. It had been her grandfather’s most treasured possession, and this Greek billionaire with his bags of money had just bid for it! Had just assumed his money gave him the right to own it, to display it…Well, it wasn’t his!

  There was a fire-escape door to her right, but her coat was at Reception.

  It was a coat, for heaven’s sake…Her mind was racing, sweat beading on her forehead and running between her breasts, as slowly she wandered nearer the door, sure everyone knew what she was contemplating. Glancing around the room, she saw the world appeared to be carrying right on as normal—men laughing, couples chatting, the chinking sound of china as afternoon tea was taken. And, with one last, furtive glance to the lobby, impulse took over for the second time that day.

  Pushing open the door, Karin stepped out. The air felt cold and delicious on her burning cheeks, and she ran. Guilt and shame chased her as she dodged people, colliding with them at times, dirty water splashing her stockinged legs; her lungs felt as though they were bursting. Then stars that had been exploding in front of her eyes suddenly went black as her forward movement was rapidly halted by a huge wedge of flesh. Arms wrapped around her from behind as she was expertly tackled and brought down to the floor.

  The brute of a man who had felled her, yet who had also partly cushioned her landing, spoke. ‘Going somewhere in a hurry?’

  Karin recognised him as the England rugby captain, and prayed, just prayed, that he wouldn’t recognise her at that moment. She lay in stunned silence, her stockings laddered, her knee grazed and her face muddied as, less than gracefully, he hauled her up to embark on her walk of shame. Karin felt sure that her grandfather must be turning in his grave, as the granddaughter he had so proudly adored was frogmarched back to the hotel by one of his beloved England team.

  It was the most humiliating walk of her life, but because it was Xante Rossi’s hotel at least the incident was dealt with discreetly—even a common thief was treated with dignity at Xante’s establishment.

  She was spared the shame of being dealt with in the lobby; instead she and the captain were guided to the manager’s office. She could hear the distant sound of police sirens as the door closed; the manager stared at her grimly, the captain eyeing her with utter distaste.

  ‘It’s not how it l
ooks,’ Karin croaked, still clutching the rose, holding it in her hands, the evidence irrefutable.

  ‘I’d say it’s exactly how it looks,’ came the captain’s surly response.

  ‘Let’s just wait for the police,’ the manager said politely.

  For Xante, most of the event had gone unnoticed. Chatting to his staff and guests, he had been mildly aware of some activity in the lounge, but Albert’s well-oiled crisis machine meant that even he hadn’t noticed the drama. He had looked over, frowning, when he realised that she wasn’t there. His mind was not on the jewel, but the woman; he was more than ready to commence from where he had left off.

  And then Albert discreetly told him what had just occurred.

  He was incensed.

  Not just about the trinket, not just with her, but with himself.

  He read women. Apart from making an obscene amount of money, that was what he did best. He had grown up on it, thrived on it, and after his bitter break-up with Athena he had honed his skill and perfected it, determined he would never be beguiled again. Yet Karin Wallis just had.

  He would press charges! Xante’s face was as black as thunder as he walked unannounced into the manager’s office. He would have her prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Let’s see how ladylike she looks being loaded into the back of a police car, Xante thought as he slammed into the office.

  And then he saw her face.

  Drained of colour, streaked with mud, her green eyes pleaded with him. Her legs nervously bobbed up and down as she sat, and he took in her grazed and bloodied knee. It was then that Xante remembered where he knew her name from.

  Wallis.

  The rose he had purchased had been awarded to the late, great Henry Wallis—and now, here before him, was the greedy seller. Even Xante had been taken aback by the high reserve-price that had been placed on the rose, but his appetite had been whetted, and he had paid the inordinate sum. Now it seemed the little vixen had decided she wanted it back.

  She made him sick!

  ‘I saw her leaving with it,’ the captain explained. ‘I chased her.’

  ‘What were you thinking, Karin?’ He saw the flash of question in her eyes as to how he knew her name. Xante’s mind was working overtime. Henry Wallis was a legend, a legend who deserved protection. His intention had been to press charges, but with the England rugby team staying at his hotel he could do without this type of publicity. No. He stared into Karin’s curious eyes and decided he would deal with her himself.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Her teeth were chattering so violently she could barely get the sentence out. ‘Please, I’ll do anything…’

  Which was something to work with, at least!

  ‘My apologies, officer.’ He flashed his charming smile to the police officer present. ‘We appear to have wasted your time. There’s been a misunderstanding.’

  ‘She was caught stealing…’

  ‘We were arguing!’ Xante interrupted. ‘This is her grandfather’s jewel; Karin does not like the fact that I have it on display, do you, darling?’ He watched her nervous swallow and smiled his black smile at her. ‘She feels it cheapens his memory.’

  ‘You’re Karin Wallis?’ The England captain winced in recognition. ‘Of course you are. I’m so sorry…’

  ‘You were not to know,’ Xante assured him, rapidly clearing things up as Karin sat there reeling. ‘Come.’ He offered her his hand, his face smiling; only she could see the dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘We’ll go upstairs and sort this out.’

  She didn’t have much choice, but for an instant Karin actually considered calling the police back and confessing; anything was preferable to going up to this man’s room. She could sense his anger, sense danger, and for Karin it was terrifying. As they stood in the lift, his black eyes bored into her. She stood rigid, refusing to look at him, fingering the scar on her wrist and wondering how she could possibly extricate herself from this mess. Thinking of her sister Emily at boarding school, and the very public humiliation she would have suffered had Xante Rossi pressed charges.

  ‘Sit down,’ he ordered when they reached their destination, but not unkindly. He poured her a large glass of water from a jug and watched as she drank. He refilled her glass, before taking himself to his desk and sitting directly opposite her.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  Funny, given the circumstances, that he cared enough to ask. But Karin was strangely touched that he had. ‘I’d like to apologise.’ She tried to look him in the eye, except she couldn’t. ‘For the misunderstanding.’

  ‘Karin.’ Xante halted her there. ‘We both know the truth, remember? You came here with every intention of stealing the rose.’

  ‘No.’ Karin pleated the hem of her skirt with her fingers, wondering how to possibly explain the moment of madness that had come over her. ‘I came here to talk with you. I’m supposed to be attending a function on Saturday at Twickenham to honour my grandfather. It was his rose, and I’m expected to bring it—only it was stolen from my home; I’ve been trying to track it down…’ Karin knew that if she were strapped to a lie detector it would be smoking now. Could almost see the needle waving frantically as she spoke, and, worse, she knew that Xante knew she was lying. ‘I never intended to steal it, it was…’ His black eyes just stared and she willed him to halt her, but he didn’t. ‘It was just on impulse. I’m probably not making much sense.’

  ‘Take your time.’ Xante gave her a thin smile. ‘I’m not in any rush.’

  ‘I’m sorry, okay?’

  ‘For lying or for stealing?’

  ‘I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Could I just say something here?’ Xante stared at the top of her head as she lowered her burning face. ‘I believe handling stolen goods is an offence—have you heard of that, Karin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which is one of the reasons I am extremely careful in all the acquisitions I make. This is all rather worrying; my buyer is normally meticulous with his background checks.’ He stood up and headed over to a filing cabinet, chatting politely, but all the while twisting the knife. ‘You reported the theft of the rose to the police, I assume?’

  Bastard!

  The word boiled inside her. Sitting up in the chair, she lifted her head, her chin set in defiance; she refused to let him see her shame.

  He handed her a sheet of paper, but Karin didn’t take it. She didn’t even look at it; she knew exactly what was written there. ‘Is that your signature?’

  ‘I thought I was signing just for the painting,’ Karin attempted, but she knew it was hopeless. What would he care that Matthew had duped her? Why sit and shame herself further by admitting that she was trying to run a stately home on an assistant’s wage, and that they’d agreed to sell the painting to pay for Emily’s school feels because there was no money left?

  ‘So it wasn’t, as you earlier said, stolen?’ Xante persisted.

  ‘Clearly not.’

  ‘So it is mine?’

  She ground her teeth together. It wasn’t his; technically, legally, it was his, but still she couldn’t bring herself to admit it.

  ‘It is mine, Karin,’ he answered when she didn’t. ‘You sold it, and just because you’ve suddenly changed your mind, just because you’re a spoilt little rich girl used to taking whatever she wants and getting her own way, it doesn’t alter the fact that the rose now belongs to me. Had you chosen to discuss this rationally, then maybe we could have come to some agreement.’

  Xante stared at the rose on his desk, and wondered what had possessed her to part with it in the first place. He couldn’t believe the beautiful, elegant woman that had walked into his hotel less than an hour ago had so easily fooled him.

  ‘I made a mistake today.’ Her voice was as clear as a bell now. Karin was frantically trying to regain control, to salvage what she could from this appalling situation, but she refused to bow to tears. She was sitting straight in the chair, her hands neatly in her lap, staring back at him as if she were the one conducti
ng the interview. ‘The rose means a lot to the Wallis family; there is a lot of history behind it. I don’t expect you understand.’

  ‘Why?’ A small coil of black smoke seemed to be rising inside him. Any sympathy that had doused his anger evaporated, as so coolly she stared back at him.

  ‘There’s a lot of tradition.’

  ‘Karin.’ He halted her there and then. ‘Greeks have tradition and history too, but in any culture a thief is a thief.’

  ‘Will you press charges?’

  ‘I am not going to waste the police’s time again.’

  ‘What about the rose?’ Karin asked, but Xante just smiled.

  ‘Ah, that’s right, you have a function next Saturday.’ He appeared to think about it, his shrewd eyes narrowing for a moment, and then he merely shrugged. ‘I will make a deal with you. You give me your number, and if it goes back on the market you’ll be the first to know.’

  It was pointless, because she couldn’t afford it anyway, but rather than admit that she duly wrote her number down.

  ‘Well, thank you.’ She couldn’t believe she was getting away so lightly, but even as she made to stand she soon realised her mistake.

  ‘I haven’t finished yet, Karin.’

  ‘I don’t see that there’s anything else to discuss…’

  ‘Oh, but there is.’ There were several women waiting for Xante’s summons, all vying for their place on his arm tonight—but Xante suddenly felt it appropriate that he arrive tonight with Henry Wallis’s granddaughter on his arm. He told himself it had nothing to do with the instant flare of approval he had seen in the England captain’s eyes when he had realised who Karin was.

  ‘There is a formal dinner here tonight in aid of charity.’ He watched a frown deepen between her brows—a rare pleasure to observe these days compared to the botoxed dates that usually graced his arms. ‘Given I have just implied to everyone that you are my mistress, there is no other way.’