The Greek Millionaire's Mistress

Grabbing at the remnants of her vanishing sanity, she stammered, “That hardly answers my question, Mikos.”

“No? Then perhaps this does,” he murmured, and lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that redefined the meaning of the word, at least as it applied to her experience.

She clutched at him, then, because it was either that or slither to the ground in a heap of molten hormones. How was it possible for fire to torch her senses, yet leave behind no scar? How could a man turn the most elementary tool of seduction into an instrument of such exquisite sensory torture that spasms of pleasure shot to the pit of her stomach and left her most secret flesh humming and aching and drenched?

Oh, this was madness! But telling herself so did nothing to stop an inarticulate moan from rising in her throat. Or keep her hands where they properly belonged, planted firmly at his shoulders to ward him off. Instead she wilted against him and wound her arms around his neck, and tunneled her fingers through his smooth, dense hair, and opened her lips to his persuasive tongue and let him do as he pleased with her mouth, and just generally behaved like a trollop.

Remember why you’re here! the dim voice of reason beseeched. You didn’t have to travel all the way to Greece, if all you wanted was sex!

Not even if this is sex transformed into something rare and wonderful? her other, shameless self inquired.

Not even then, you idiot! What kind of woman abandons her cause, the moment a handsome foreigner spares her a second glance?

But this is about more than exotic good looks. It’s about chemistry—alchemy, even. It’s about looking into a man’s eyes and seeing my future written there. It’s about trusting my instincts and recognizing destiny when it comes calling.

Tell that to the mother you left in the care of strangers!

The words slapped her in the face like a dash of cold water.

“Mmm…oh!” She tore her mouth free. Forced her hands to stop their exploration of his hair and pushed them hard against his chest. “I can’t do this! It isn’t right!”

His eyes smoldered in the gloom, primitive green fire warring with civilized restraint. “How can it be wrong, agapiti mou, when I find you so irresistible? We are free to follow our hearts, are we not—or is yours promised to someone else?”

“Of course it isn’t!” she responded heatedly. “If I were involved with another man, I would never cheat on him. But this…what we’re getting into here, well, it’s…!”

She floundered into silence, knowing she could not confide in him. Although he didn’t realize it, he was on the enemy’s side, and when he discovered her true reason for coming to Athens, he’d become her enemy, too. He wouldn’t find her quite so irresistible then.

“Moving too quickly. I understand. We met less than an hour ago, and have tomorrow and as many days after that as you are willing to spend with me, before we must say adio. There is no need to rush so pleasurable a prospect.”

His voice caressed her. Soothed her uneasy conscience. He was neither making nor demanding promises for anything beyond what either was willing to give. The way he saw it, the most they had to offer each other was a week or two of their otherwise separate lives. After that, he would move on to his next conquest and she would return home, possibly a little heart sore, but definitely more fulfilled as a woman than she had been when she left—and hopefully having achieved her covert objective. One of those win-win situations, in other words.

Pack your bags and get on that aircraft, Sam Irving, her doctor, had ordered when he learned she was following his advice after all, even if it wasn’t entirely for the reasons he thought. You’re a young woman in her prime, Gina, and it’s long past time you had a little fun. Discover Greece, have a fling and leave me to take care of things on the homefront.

Good advice, Sam, she decided, a little bubble of happiness erupting inside her.

Smiling at Mikos, she said, “No need at all. I’m enjoying just being up here with you, although I’m surprised we have the place to ourselves. I didn’t think Athenians ever went to bed before dawn.”

“You’re right. As a rule, we’d be just two of many enjoying the night. But for this occasion, the public rooms of the hotel are off-limits to all but those officially invited to attend the birthday celebration.”

“Then can we just sit and get to know one another better? You said earlier that you wouldn’t be where you are today if it weren’t for Angelo Tyros, and I’ve been wondering what you meant by that.”

He shrugged his impeccably tailored shoulders regretfully. “Much though I’d prefer to watch the sun come up with you at my side, I’m afraid I must deny myself the pleasure. I’m officially working and shouldn’t be gone from the party too long.”

Well, so much for finding her irresistible! As long as she was willing to let him seduce her, he had all the time in the world to spare, but the minute she called a halt to the physical side of things, duty called him elsewhere—probably to one of those women she’d earlier noticed salivating over him as if he were a particularly mouthwatering slice of baklava!

“Thanks for reminding me that I’m slacking off, too,” she said, not quite able to keep the sting out of her voice. “I’m being paid to produce an article about the rich and famous, and could be missing all kinds of delicious goings-on downstairs.”

He started to speak, but she was in no mood to listen because her little bubble of happiness had burst and left her flat with disillusionment. She’d been out of circulation too long, that was the trouble. Adopting the role of parent to her poor, lost mother had blunted her social skills, and left her so hungry for a touch of glamour, a soupçon of romance, that she’d lost all perspective the very second Mikos had spared her a second glance.

How could she have been so naive? Sophisticated men like him weren’t interested in cosy chats by moonlight. She ought to be grateful he hadn’t laughed in her face at the mere idea!

Swallowing the absurd lump in her throat, she swept to the elevator and pressed the call button. Mercifully the doors slid open promptly, offering a fast escape. But not quite fast enough. Mikos was right on her heels, ushering her into the car with such charming continental gallantry that it took every iota of willpower for her to maintain a stony-faced mask of indifference.

“I have offended you,” he observed ruefully, as the doors ghosted shut.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted, and wished he’d stop staring at her. Didn’t he know that people in elevators were supposed to look at the illuminated numbers on the directory panel, and never at other passengers?

“If that is true,” he replied, after a lengthy pause, “then once things start to quieten down a little, perhaps you’ll join me for a late snack?”

She covered her mouth with her hand and faked a long yawn. “Oh, I doubt that. I’m pretty tired already, and won’t be hanging around once I’ve collected enough material to complete my article.”

“I see.” Another silence followed, this one more protracted, then, “You have a room here, at the Grande Bretagne, do you, Gina?”

She thought of the Grande Bretagne, newly restored to its nineteenth century grandeur, and laughed, a brittle humorless sound that echoed harshly in that confined space. “Hardly! I’m a working woman, remember?”

“But you have adequate accommodation in a decent neighborhood?”

“I’m at the Topikos, just a couple of blocks from the Hilton.” It was nothing splashy, and certainly didn’t compare to the Grande Bretagne, but her room was clean and comfortable, came with its own bathroom and was affordable.

“Then I’ll arrange for a car to take you home when you’re ready to leave.”

“No need,” she said. “It’s not far. I can walk, or take a taxi.”

“I will not allow any such thing. Please let me know when you’ve had enough of the party.”

Fat chance! she almost told him. Fortunately the elevator sighed to a stop and the second the doors slid open, the din from the party swam through, drowning out any possibility of further conversation.

Once inside the ballroom, she waggled her fingers in farewell. “See you later,” she mouthed, and promptly put as much distance between him and her as possible.

Sadly he made no attempt to stop her. Instead, with the careless elegance only the very rich and self-assured dared assume, he sauntered across the imposing lobby and struck up a conversation with a man seated in an alcove.

Well, if Mikolas Christopoulos wasn’t going to give her access to Angelo Tyros, she’d have to do it on her own. Refusing to admit the bitter taste in her mouth sprang from a disappointment that had to do with more than thwarted ambition, she made her way unimpeded to the head table, only to suffer another setback. There was no sign of the Greek billionaire.

“Excuse me, do you speak English?” she asked a woman still seated there.

“A little, yes.”

“Then can you tell me where I might find Mr. Tyros? I was hoping he’d grant me an interview.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose in amusement. “You’re too late, Kyria! Even if he’d have agreed to speak to you, which is doubtful, Angelo left some time ago. He is eighty, after all!”

Oh, great! Just wonderful!

No denying her letdown this time. It burned her throat raw.

She’d started out on such a high note. Been greeted on her arrival at the Grande Bretagne by a cloaked doorman who’d ushered her into the lobby as if she were royalty. Somehow caught the eye of the most attractive man in the room, who’d singled her out for his undivided attention, only to dump her as soon as he realized she wasn’t up for a quick grope between the potted palms. And matters had gone steadily downhill ever since. All in all, the evening had been a complete bust.

Discouraged and exhausted suddenly, she circled back to the ballroom’s exit, grateful to see that although the faithful four continued to stand guard against gatecrashers, Mikos was nowhere in sight.