by Olivia Gates
“Listen, Andreas, we do share an unhealthy level of sexual affinity, as we just proved....” Her gaze flicked to the wall a few feet away, where he’d taken her the first time tonight. “And that was why ‘our past’ happened. I take full responsibility for how it turned out, as I was young, more in experience than in actual age, and you were my first adventure, my first passion. You were as clear as possible about what you expected, and I still mixed up my intense lust for you with expectations that had no place between us.”
His focus was total as she talked, as if he was memorizing her words. But then he did that with everything. His retentive powers were phenomenal, and it had nothing to do with interest in her or what she said specifically.
She inhaled. “But since you made your expectations clear from the start, you didn’t accept it when I walked out. You no doubt thought you were justified in trying to stop me, as I was reneging on the terms of our agreement. I’m the first to admit I did, and that was why I ended it. Now you have a card to pressure me into rectifying my transgression and resuming the arrangement you found so convenient, but I can’t ‘accommodate’ you anymore. I am ready, though, to have as much no-strings sex with you as you want, in return for you not disrupting Dora’s life. We both have the obvious to gain from that kind of arrangement. Anything else is out of the question.”
“Why?”
That was all he had to say? After all she’d said?
Holding on to her temper, she forced herself to answer. “Because I won’t enter another charade with you. Certainly never with Dora caught in the middle.”
“There was no charade tonight. That was all too real.”
“As real as these things get. You know it was just sex.”
“There’s nothing ‘just’ about it. That after all these years I still want you.”
“And you can have me. Just not like that.”
“Again I ask, why? If you want me as much as I want you?”
“Because desire never made a difference. I wanted you at times more than I wanted to breathe, and yet being with you was the worst chapter of my life. Considering that I lived through the horror and desolation of losing my mother when I was so young, then losing Nadine, that gives you an idea of just how miserable I was with you.”
That emptiness in his eyes intensified. And suddenly she realized something.
That blankness was a unique indicator of his emotions. The more surprised or dismayed he was, the emptier his gaze became.
Which made no difference now. Or ever. Only one thing mattered. Making him take back his demand.
Struggling to keep her voice level, she continued. “Agreeing to something as disruptive to me as what you’re demanding would damage me and undermine my ability to mother Dora. And that’s what I will never let happen.”
After looking at her as if he wouldn’t answer, he let out a forcible exhalation. “If you’re willing to sleep with me as frequently and for as long as I want, why is calling it marriage any more disruptive?”
“Because it would be. Labels and legalities and the life adjustments stemming from them complicate everything. No-strings sex is all I can offer you. It’s all you want, anyway.”
“I already told you what I want. Marriage.”
Now it was her turn to ask. “Why?”
He shrugged. “Because I’m not in the market for no-strings sex anymore. I have Dorothea now.”
“No, you don’t. Dora isn’t yours, she’s mine.”
“Not according to Petros’s will.”
Anxiety and aggression almost overpowered her. She reeled them back with all she had.
Andreas was a shark, and the scent of blood—her vulnerability and desperation now—would only make him more vicious.
But appealing to his compassion, as her attorney had advised, would get her nowhere, either, as he had none.
Only one thing remained. Appealing to his paramount sense of self-service, what had seen him to the top in his cutthroat field.
She drew in a steadying breath. “It’s clear you haven’t thought this through, Andreas. You might assume that having a child, with your power and wealth, would be easy. But there’s nothing more disruptive and consuming than having a little one in your life, even with others handling the daily caretaking. If you consider it without the influence of duty or pride...” She swallowed the words “or challenge.” Not prudent to provoke his cold-blooded killer instinct. “...you’d know you can’t take on the responsibility of a child.”
“I know I can’t. I already admitted that.”
“Then what do you think you’d do if you take Dora? Toss her to a nanny and a string of private tutors, then send her off to an exclusive boarding school once she’s old enough, and go about your business as if she doesn’t exist?”
“I already told you this isn’t what I intend. I never factored in that I won’t have you both.”
She gaped at him. He’d intended this remarriage thing all along? A “convenience package” that would allow him to have her cake and eat Dora’s, too?
She swallowed the outrage, emptied her voice of expression. “Well, start factoring it in now. You have my offer.”
He inclined his head, as if he accepted her refusal.
Then he stepped aside to let her pass.
Feeling as if her prison door had opened, she hurried away. He followed at a slower pace, his longer strides keeping him a step away, making her struggle not to break into a run.
She was almost out the door when he said, “I’ll have my chauffeur follow you home.”
She shook her head without turning. “The area is safe, and it’s only a five-minute drive.”
“Still.”
Something in his solitary word made her turn. And she regretted it at once. Getting another eyeful of his half-naked grandeur, and remembering what he’d done to her with it, wasn’t conducive to her ability to breathe.
He took the door from her hand. “I would have done it myself, but we’ve had enough arguments tonight.”
Suddenly she was clasped to his hot hardness, and his lips were pulling her heartbeats right out of her pulse point. Her blood surged with need, and she was on the verge of begging him to take her again when he muttered into her flesh.
Once his words sank in, she tore out of his arms. “You are a monster.”
This time she ran away, as if she were really escaping from one.
* * *
After a night that was one of her life’s worst, Naomi arrived at her office next morning, the last words Andreas had said still echoing in her head in a maddening loop.
Whatever you felt about our marriage, or think you feel about me now, you’ll end up agreeing to my terms. I’m not letting you go again.
The first thing she did was call her attorney. He assured her again that she had no leverage, that Andreas would be the one to call the shots. She bet if she told him about Andreas’s ultimatum, he would have thought it a fantastic offer she should snap up before Andreas changed his mind.
Not that she thought he would. Once Andreas set his mind to something, he never let go. But she was damned if she’d let him steamroll over her. There had to be another way out.
After an hour of frantic thinking, an idea burst into her mind. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like her only hope. Gaining an ally who was as powerful as Andreas, one who had power over him.
Only one man on earth met both criteria.
Andreas’s older brother, Aristedes Sarantos.
* * *
An hour later, Naomi entered Sarantos Shipping headquarters, suffering from whiplash at the speed with which this meeting had been arranged.
After failing to find a personal number for Aristedes, she’d settled for his headquarters, gone through the automated menu until final
ly a live person, a man named Dennis, had regretted there was no way she’d get hold of Aristedes himself. Some collected voice in her churning mind had inspired her to say it was a matter of paramount urgency, concerning Aristedes’s brother. At the silence her claim had been met with, she’d thought the man had hung up. Then Dennis had said that Mr. Sarantos’s brother was long dead.
That had stunned her, that Aristedes might not know that his brother was alive.
But Dennis had rushed to apologize. She must have meant Mr. Andreas, not Mr. Leonidas. He hadn’t heard of him in so long, he didn’t remember him right away.
That had been news to Naomi, that Andreas had a brother named Leonidas, who was dead. He’d never volunteered the fact, and she’d never heard it from Petros, the only other source of information on him. Petros had clearly been under strict instructions not to share anything about Andreas, even with his wife. The only way she’d known anything about his family life had been through investigating Aristedes. But beyond a fleeting internet search once, she hadn’t been about to dig any deeper into what Andreas hadn’t wanted her to know.
Once Andreas’s name had been introduced, she’d been put through to Aristedes’s personal assistant. Within minutes, the woman had come back to her. Aristedes could meet her in half an hour. Would that be soon enough for her?
She’d almost blurted out it was too soon. Thinking that securing an audience with Aristedes would be an arduous endeavor, she’d thought she’d have time to prepare for meeting the man. If Andreas was anything to go by, she cringed to think what his big brother might be like, the man everyone mentioned in whispers of awe and called “the raw material of ruthlessness.”
But she couldn’t postpone meeting the only man in existence who might be able to hold Andreas at bay.
And here she was, in his imposing skyscraper’s lobby, not knowing where to go or what to do.
As she swept her uncertain gaze around, a gorgeous dark-eyed brunette in her early twenties, a little shorter than her five foot seven, in an exquisite navy blue skirt suit, came rushing toward her.
“Ms. Sinclair?” Naomi nodded dumbly in answer to the woman’s inquiring smile, noticing that she was older than she’d first surmised. Maybe thirty, like her, but untouched by tragedy. The woman’s smile widened, showing off a stunning set of teeth as she held out her hand. “I’m Cora Delaney, Mr. Sarantos’s junior PA. Please come with me. He is waiting for you.”
Cora steered Naomi through security, then to a private elevator, seeming in a hurry.
Oh, God, was she late? What if this started the whole thing off on the wrong foot? How could she start this on the right one? What was she doing here, anyway? What would she tell Aristedes?
“Relax.”
Her gaze jerked to Cora, and only then realized she was clutching the railing in the elevator car, her white knuckles stark against the mahogany walls.
Sympathy filled the secretary’s eyes. “Mr. Sarantos can be really scary when he wants to, I’ll admit, but he rarely wants to nowadays. Today is certainly not one of the days anyone is in danger of being shredded by him.”
“What makes today special?” Naomi croaked.
Cora’s smile widened. “He’s expecting Mrs. Sarantos, his wife.”
Mrs. Sarantos. Naomi had once been that. Not that anyone had ever known. Now she was here in hope of never becoming that again, whether people knew about it this time or not.
The elevator door whirred open smoothly. They were there. In the lion’s den. Or was it the devil’s domain? She’d once heard it would be bad-mouthing the devil, calling Aristedes Sarantos that.
A minute later, Cora ushered her to what had to be Aristedes’s inner sanctum, clearly not intending to accompany her, and Naomi’s knees almost gave out. She was used to interacting with moguls, but this man, from what she’d heard about him and especially because of who he was to Andreas, unnerved her as nothing had before. And she hadn’t even seen him yet.
Then she did.
Rounding the corner of the waiting room, she spotted him at the far end of the austerely elegant office, rising from a spaceship-like desk. Even across the distance, his impact almost made her feet gnarl.
She’d seen him in photos, had thought him photogenic, but in reality, he was far, far more incredible. Like Andreas, nothing but in-person exposure could do him justice. He wasn’t handsome. It would be an insult to call him, or Andreas for that matter, that. They were beautiful in a way that transcended good looks, were the embodiment of unadulterated power and raw maleness in human form.
Beyond that, they had the same color of eyes and skin, but Aristedes’s hair was darker, with silver-shot temples, whereas the highlights in Andreas’s hair were the gilded touch of the sun.
There was no doubt those two juggernauts were brothers. Even with eight years between them, the differences were slight, physically speaking. On another level, there was a major difference that she sensed, but couldn’t put her finger on. And probably wouldn’t.
As Aristedes unfurled to his full height, which appeared equal to Andreas’s, her observations stalled. He was unsmiling as he walked around his desk, his steel eyes as penetrating and unsettling as Andreas’s, even if their disturbance had a different texture. She could feel him reaching inside her to extract the truth about her and about her claim that she had urgent business concerning his estranged brother.
Before he came within hand-shaking distance, she heard a soft knock. It was followed by a gently opening door, rustling clothes and light feet on the plush carpet.
It had to be his wife.
Feeling like an intruder, Naomi kept her eyes fixed on Aristedes. And got a direct hit of the spectacular change that came over his face.
It was as if his deepest recesses opened, every passion and emotion blazing in his eyes. His delight at the sight of his wife was blinding.
“Selene, agápi mou...”
Agápi mou. One of the empty endearments Andreas had lavished on her...only at the height of arousal or the pinnacle of satisfaction. But from the ragged edge in Aristedes’s bass voice, she had no doubt he meant it. His wife, the lucky Selene, was his love.
With a brief excuse, he strode past Naomi.
She didn’t want to witness the greeting of this man who’d probably left his wife’s side this morning, and yet was already so elated and eager to see her. But standing there with her back to the woman might be construed as rude. So she forced herself to turn around...and caught the tail end of the passionate kiss the couple exchanged.
Aristedes’s lips relinquished his wife’s, only to return immediately for another brief but profound taste. Then, after one last look full of all the secrets and trials and certainties that constituted their intimacy, he turned his attention to Naomi.
And she realized what the major difference between him and Andreas was. Even though she felt the demons of his harsh beginnings on the quays of Crete lurking within his psyche, to be unleashed when needed, she felt Aristedes had mastered them and relegated them to the deepest corner of his being. This man had reclaimed himself from the darkness. He was something Andreas had never been and would never be. He was serene, content. Happy.
And it was clear this hadn’t happened only for Selene, but with her help, and was maintained by her unstinting support. A man of Aristedes’s caliber didn’t develop that level of emotional involvement and dependence without total trust in an equal, who offered him a commitment of matching depth, scope and strength. From the fleeting yet unequivocal demonstration she’d witnessed, Naomi had no doubt Aristedes would lay down his life for his wife, and that his devotion was reciprocated in full.
Her instincts had once told her she could share that level of allegiance with Andreas. Even against all evidence to the contrary, her senses had insisted they’d turn out to be right. But he’d proved to be exactly what he him
self had warned her he was—a man incapable of emotional commitment and unworthy of it.
So how could two brothers who were so alike in genetics, in background, even in intelligence, determination and achievement, be such opposites? How was it possible for one to have the capacity to feel so much, while the other was incapable of feeling anything?
Aristedes was tugging his wife ahead, to be the one to meet Naomi first. “Ms. Sinclair, please meet my wife, Selene.”
Selene Sarantos was the embodiment of her name. A moon goddess, tall and voluptuous, with a waterfall of ebony silk hair and the most vivid, midnight-blue eyes Naomi had ever seen. But she was more than beautiful, she was...ripened. By the passionate worship of the virile, powerful Aristedes.
Selene extended her hand to Naomi with the smile of someone who had no idea who she was meeting, but was very open to making the new acquaintance. It was clear she didn’t mind finding her incredible husband with an unknown woman. That she was okay with that, and with having women like the gorgeous Cora working so close to him, was a testament to her security in his fidelity and her hold over his heart.
Naomi shook her hand with a smile she hoped wasn’t brittle. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Sarantos.”
Selene let out a crystalline laugh. “Selene, please. I’m Mrs. Sarantos everywhere. In private, I want to revert to being Selene only.”
“You’re Louvardis-Sarantos everywhere,” Aristedes mock griped.
Selene laughed again, her eyes crinkling at Naomi. “Would you drop a name like Louvardis if you can possibly keep it?”
Naomi shook her head, making the connection. “If you mean Louvardis of Louvardis Enterprises fame, I certainly wouldn’t. I wouldn’t anyway, based on the chicness and uniqueness of the name alone.”
Selene turned her face up to her husband’s, her eyes teasing and caressing him, and telling him so, so much. “You see?”
“Oh, I do see.” His eyes caressed her back, and Naomi doubted that this was ever an actual issue with him.
