by Abby Green
And then she’d emerged and his blood had left his brain completely. She’d turned around and showed him a bare back, asking with a shy look over her shoulder, ‘Can you do me up?’
To this day Andreas wasn’t sure how he’d done it without pulling that dress down and off completely. But he hadn’t. She’d turned round and some of her hair had been coming loose. He’d reached out and tucked one golden strand behind her ear and she’d blurted out, ‘What’s your name?’
Andreas had looked at her and said, ‘Andreas Xenakis.’
She’d repeated his name and it had sounded impossibly sexy with her slight Italian accent. ‘Andreas.’
And then all Andreas could remember was heat and need. His mouth had been on hers and she’d been clinging to him, moaning softly, sighing into his mouth, her tongue making a shy foray against his, making him so hard…
Andreas’s mind snapped back to the present. He was holding his glass so tightly in his hand he had to relax for fear of shattering it. He grimaced at his body’s rampant response just at the memory of what had happened and willed himself to cool down.
He looked out at the millionaire’s view of London he could afford now. A far cry from his roots and from painful memories of lives wasted. His mouth twisted. Wasted because of love. But, strangely, his usual sense of satisfaction deserted him. Because a new desire for satisfaction had superseded it. For a satisfaction that would only come from taking Siena into his bed and sating himself with her.
He’d never forgotten the way she’d changed in an instant that night—from a she-witch, writhing underneath him, begging him to touch her and kiss her all over, to pushing him off as if his touch burnt her. The way she’d sprung up, holding her dress against her, looking at him accusingly. He’d only realised then that there was someone else in the room. Her father. Looking at him with those cold eyes, as if he were a piece of scum.
The dream and the memory made Andreas shiver. Because it reminded him of how duped he’d been that night. How, despite his better instincts, he’d let himself believe that Siena had really been that giggling, shy, artlessly sexy girl. And, worst of all, how she’d made him want to believe that girl existed.
He should have known better. He of all people. As soon as he’d started working in the city of Athens his looks had attracted a certain kind of sexually mature and confident woman. Inevitably wealthy. They’d offered him money, or promotion, and had laughed at his proud refusal to get help via their beds. One had mocked him. ‘Oh, Andreas, one day that hubris will get you into trouble. You’ll fall for a pretty girl who pretends not to be as cold and hard as the rest of us.’
And he had. He’d fallen hard. In front of Siena and her father that night. In all honesty Andreas hadn’t truly become so cynical yet that he’d believed someone as young as Siena could be so malicious and calculating. But he’d watched her transform from shy sex kitten to a cold bitch. Colder than any of those other women he’d known. And just like that he’d grown his cynical outer skin and his heart had hardened in his chest.
Since then he’d surrounded himself with the kind of women who populated the world he now inhabited. The kind who were sexually experienced and worldly-wise. He had no time for women who played games or who pretended they were something they weren’t. And he would never, ever, believe in the myth of sweet innocence again.
A flare of panic in his gut propelled Andreas out of the drawing room, setting down his glass as he did so. He went to Siena’s bedroom door and opened it silently. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dimmer light, and when it did and he saw the shape on the bed his heart slowed. Relief made a mockery of all of his assurances that he was in control but he pushed it aside.
For a second he’d thought it part of the dream. That she wasn’t really here. That he was still looking for her.
He found himself standing by her bed and looking down. She was on her back, hair spread out around her head, breathing softly, dressed only in a T-shirt. Her breasts were two firm swells that had the blood rushing to Andreas’s groin again.
Triumph was heady. She was here. She would be his.
Andreas knew that if her father’s business hadn’t imploded the way it had he would have been equally determined to get to her, but it would have been much harder to get close.
In the dim light he could see dark shadows under her eyes and he frowned. She looked tired and he felt his chest constrict. Just then she moved slightly, making him tense. As she settled she snored softly. Andreas found his mouth tipping up at this most incongruous sound from one so perfect.
Then he remembered the way she’d asked for money and the smile faded. He had to remember who she was, how she had fooled him so easily into thinking she was something she was not. He’d already learnt his lesson and he wasn’t about to repeat his mistake.
* * *
The following evening Siena was standing at the window of the main living area in Andreas’s palatial apartment. She turned her back on the evocative dusky view of London’s skyline and sighed. She couldn’t be more removed from the hovel of a flat she’d been living in. But as much as she’d hated it, on some perverse level she’d loved it because it had been symbolic of her freedom.
And now once again she was incarcerated in a gilded prison. Andreas had already gone to work when she’d woken up that morning, and she’d been relieved not to have to deal with him when she still felt dizzy with how fast things had moved. He’d left a curt note, informing her that it was his housekeeper’s day off but she must help herself to whatever she wanted, and that a stylist and a beautician would be arriving later that morning.
Sure enough, a couple of hours later two scarily efficient-looking women had arrived, and within hours Siena had been waxed, buffed and polished. She now had a dressing room full of clothes, ranging from casual right up to haute couture. Not to mention cosmetics, accessories and lingerie so delicate and decadent it made her blush. And shoes—a whole wall of shoes alone.
The sheer extravangance had stunned Siena. Her father had been extremely tight with his money, so while she and Serena had always been decked out in the most exclusive designs it had been to perpetuate an image—nothing more.
Andreas had called a short while before and informed her that there should be some beef in the fridge. He’d instructed her to put it in the oven so they could eat it when he returned to the apartment. Siena had just spent a fruitless half-hour trying to figure out which furturistic-looking steel appliance was the oven, to no avail.
She went back into the kitchen now, to try again, and started to go hot with embarrassment at her pathetic failing when she still couldn’t figure it out. Her father had forbidden Siena and her sister ever to go near the kitchen of the palazzo, considering it a sign of a lack of class should either of his daughters ever know its ins and outs.
Before Siena had a chance to explore further she heard the apartment door open and close and distinctive strong footfalls. She tensed and knew Andreas had to be in the doorway, looking at her. She turned around slowly and fought to hide her reaction to seeing him in the flesh again, dressed in a dark suit. His sheer good looks and charisma reached out to grab her by the throat. She could feel her body responding, as if it had been plugged into an energy source coming directly from him to her.
Siena retreated into attack to disguise her discomfiture. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. ‘I didn’t put the beef in the oven because I refuse to be your housekeeper.’
Andreas regarded her from the doorway. Siena noticed that his jaw was darkly stubbled in the soft light. He was so intensely masculine and her blood jumped in response.
‘Well, then,’ he said with deceptive lightness as he came further into the room, his hair gleaming under the lights, ‘I hope you had a decent lunch today. Because I refuse to be your chef just because you can’t be bothered to take something out of the fridge and put it in the oven.’
At that moment Siena felt an absurd rush of self-pity. She was actual
ly starving, because she’d only had a sandwich earlier, but she clamped her mouth shut because she knew she was acting abominably. And if she had no intention of telling him why then she had no one to blame but herself. She would spend all day tomorrow working out where the blasted oven was and how to work it even if it killed her.
Lying through her teeth, and trying desperately not to look at the succulent lump of meat he was taking out of the fridge, Siena said loftily, ‘I’m not hungry anyway. In fact I’m quite tired. It’s been a long day. I’m going to go to my room, if you have no objections.’
Andreas looked up from his ministrations and said easily, ‘Oh, I object all right. I think you could do with being forced to watch me eat after your pettish spoilt behaviour, but the expression on your face might put me off my food.’
He went on coolly. ‘As it happens I have some work to continue here this evening…so feel free to entertain yourself. You don’t have to confine yourself to your room Siena, like some kind of martyr.’
She turned and walked out, not liking the way Andreas was dealing with preparing himself dinner so dextrously. It caused something to flutter deep inside her. She didn’t like these little signs that Andreas couldn’t be boxed away so neatly.
She was about to go towards her room when she found herself seeking out the more informal sitting area that Andreas had shown her the previous evening. She forced herself to relax in front of the TV, even though she really wanted to escape to her room and avoid any more contact with Andreas.
* * *
A short time later Andreas gave up any attempt to work. It was impossible when he knew that Siena was somewhere nearby. He shook his head again at her spoilt behaviour. He didn’t know why it had surprised him, but it had. It was as if some stubborn part of him was still clinging onto the false image of that sweet girl in Paris, before she’d morphed into the spoilt heiress.
He got up and put his cleared dinner plate in the dishwasher in the kitchen, noticing as he did that nothing else had been touched. His mouth flattened into a hard line at this further evidence of Siena’s stubborness. She was too proud for her own good. He walked back out and stopped when he heard the faint sound of canned laughter. He followed the sound and found Siena curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Her lashes cast long dark shadows on her cheeks.
Absently Andreas found the remote and switched the TV show off. Siena stirred but didn’t wake. He’d been blocking out how it had felt to see her in his kitchen when he’d come home earlier. Dressed in softly worn jeans and a T-shirt. Hair in a ponytail. Bare feet. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected but it hadn’t been that. He wasn’t used to women dressing down, but told himself that she was obviously making a petty point, refusing to make an effort for him.
He knew Siena had seen the beautician, and inevitably his mind wandered to the parts of her body that would be sleek, smooth. He hadn’t noticed any discernible physical difference but then, he reminded himself cynically, it was hard to improve on perfection. And even as she was now, asleep on a couch in jeans and a T-shirt, she was perfection.
Andreas saw her hands now and bent down. They looked softer already, and he could see that her bitten nails had been cleaned up, but they had been filed very short. He felt that constriction in his chest again at noticing that.
And then suddenly she was awake, looking up at him with those huge startling blue eyes. For a moment something crackled between them, alive and powerful. And then he saw Siena register where she was and with whom. The way she grew tense and her eyes became wary. He straightened up.
Siena struggled to a sitting position, more than discomfited to find Andreas watching her so coolly while she slept. ‘What time is it?’ Her voice felt scratchy.
He flicked a glance at his watch. ‘After midnight.’
Siena stood up and only realised then how close she was to Andreas, and how tall he was when she was in bare feet. ‘I should go to bed.’
‘Yes,’ he observed. ‘You seem to be extremely tired. It must have been all that pampering and choosing dresses today.’
Siena was about to protest at the unfairness of his attack, and inform him of just how hard she had been working, but the words died in her throat. He was too close all of a sudden, those dark navy eyes looking at her and reminding her of another time when they’d stood so close and she’d breathed, ‘Andreas…’
She moved back suddenly, but forgot about the couch behind her and felt herself falling back. With the reflexes of a panther Andreas reached out and circled her waist with his hands, hauling her against him.
The breath whooshed out of Siena’s mouth. Her hands were on his chest and he felt hot to the touch even through his shirt. ‘What…’ Her mouth went dry at the thought that he might kiss her. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What I’m doing, Siena, is…’ He stopped and the moment stretched between them.
Siena fancied she could hear both their hearts beating in unison. In that moment she wanted him with a sudden fierce longing deep in her abdomen. She was mesmerised by his mouth. She wanted him to kiss her. And that knowledge burned inside her…
‘…letting you go to bed.’
CHAPTER FIVE
ANDREAS HAD PUT Siena away from him before she’d realised what he was doing and instantly she felt foolish. She blushed and he raised a brow.
‘That really is some skill—to be able to blush at will. But you forget that it’s wasted on me, Siena. I’m a sure thing. You don’t have to pretend with me.’
Siena’s betraying flush increased—with anger now. ‘That’s good to know. I won’t waste my energy, then.’
She whirled around to leave but was caught when Andreas reached out to take her hand. Electricity shot up her arm. She looked back warily.
‘Actually, I have something for you. Come with me.’
Curious, Siena followed Andreas into his huge dimly lit study. It was a beautiful room, very masculine, with floor-to-ceiling shelves that heaved with books. He had the latest high-spec computers and printers.
He’d gone to a picture in the corner and pulled it out from the wall to reveal that it hid a safe. He entered the combination and pulled out a long velvet box. He came over and opened it, so that Siena could see that it was a stunningly simple yet obviously very expensive diamond bracelet.
Her heart thumped once, hard, and she felt a little sick. Andreas was taking it out and reaching for her wrist so that he could put it on. He said coolly, ‘You’ve been here for one night already. I don’t see why I can’t reward you.’
Feeling very prickly, and not liking the way the cool platinum and stones sat against her pale wrist, winking brilliantly, Siena said acerbically, ‘You don’t have to reward me as if I’m a child, Andreas.’
He dropped her wrist and looked at her, his eyes turning dark. ‘I know you’re not a child, Siena. I’m rewarding you because you asked me to. Tomorrow evening we are going to a charity function in town…tonight will be the last night you sleep alone.’
Trepidation and fear were immediate. The thought of being seen and recognised, having people point and whisper about the disgraced DePieros… But Siena wouldn’t let Andreas see how much it terrified her, or let him see how even more terrifying she found the thought that this time tomorrow night she would be in his bed…
Siena backed away. ‘I can’t wait.’
She’d almost got to the door when Andreas called her name again. She took a deep breath and turned around.
‘I’ve arranged for one of London’s top jewellers to come to the apartment tomorrow morning.’ His jaw tightened. ‘You can choose a selection of jewels to your hard little heart’s content.’
Siena said nothing. She suddenly looked starkly pale and whirled around, walking quickly out of the room. Andreas watched her go and had to relax his hands because they’d clenched to fists. Once again he wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that.
He had to take a deep breath, and he wondered why he
wasn’t following his base instincts and taking her here and now. Either on the couch earlier, or here in his office. Or following her to her bedroom. She was here. She was his. She was making him pay for it. But he wouldn’t do it now. Because she made him feel a little wild and out of control.
She reminded him far too easily of the raw, ambitious young man he’d once been. Desperate to be a part of the world she’d so easily inhabited because he’d believed that if he was, then he’d truly be as far away from stagnating in his home town as he could possibly be. But he’d changed since then. Being forced into exile had made him appreciate his home and where he came from. It had given him a more balanced view.
He might not want to be a part of his family’s cosy, settled world, but he respected it and their choices. A tiny voice mocked him, reminding him that sometimes when he went back now he found himself feeling a pang when he saw the interaction between his sisters and their husbands and children. It even made him feel slightly threatened—as if, if he stayed too long, everything he’d worked for would disappear and he’d become that young man again, with nothing to his name.
He would not let Siena bring back those memories or reduce him to such baseness. She’d done it once before, before he’d even realised what was happening, and she’d torn his world apart.
No, he would be urbane and civilised—all the things he’d become since he’d stood before her in Paris and been made to feel utterly helpless, at the mercy of the huge emotions seething inside his gut. She didn’t have that power over him any more and she never would.
* * *
Back in her room, Siena struggled to get the diamond bracelet off but refused to go and ask Andreas for help. She was far too volatile when in close proximity to him. Finally it sprang free and Siena put it down with a kind of fascinated horror. He’d given her a diamond bracelet—just like that. Tomorrow he’d be giving her a lot more. And tomorrow night…
