Mediterranean Tycoons

On returning to London, he’d insisted on accompanying her to her apartment. She hadn’t wanted him in her own home, and she certainly hadn’t wanted him to make love to her there, but he did. She couldn’t sleep in her own bed at night without thinking of him sharing it with her.

The next evening he had called, supposedly to take her out to dinner; instead, she had landed up in the king-sized bed in his London penthouse, and dinner was a cheese sandwich before, at her insistence, she returned to her own home.

In the ensuing weeks, he had behaved as far as Katy and Harry were concerned as the perfect suitor for their friend, handsome, sexy but more than that—he was caring and concerned, and his input in the business had been invaluable. He had a wonderful sense of humour. Eloise had watched him joking and laughing with Jeff and Julian, and Katy and Harry; they had all dined frequently together, and according to all of them Marcus was wonderful.

He was the same with everyone; even baby Benjamin gurgled when Marcus appeared. Eloise kept reminding herself, he was a master manipulator and a devious swine—but, God help her, even as she hated him for what he was doing to her, she was finding it harder and harder to retain a semblance of distance from the man. Every night that she spent in his bed, when he made love to her with a passion, tenderness, or simply a ravishing hunger, it became more difficult to hold back the words of love she ached to say.

True to his word, their affair was high profile. He’d insisted on taking her to the premiere of a film, where they’d been photographed, and appeared in the gossip column of a national daily the following day. Eloise cringed at the publicity, and lived in fear of anyone making the connection with her past. She had tried to argue with Marcus and, to give him his due, after that one event, he’d bowed to her wishes, and intimate restaurants, and an occasional trip to the cinema had followed.

Surprisingly, as the weeks passed, Eloise found herself actually thinking of Marcus as a normal boyfriend. He did nothing to dispel the notion and remarkably the truce they’d struck in Paris was holding up. Neither ever mentioned the real reason for their togetherness. They talked, they laughed, they made love, and the few times he couldn’t see her, he sent her flowers, and phoned every day.

‘Daydreaming won’t get the work done.’ Katy’s voice cut into her troubled thoughts. ‘Mind you, I don’t blame you. Much as I love Harry, I can see what a wonderful catch Marcus is. If you play your cards right, you could keep him—wedding bells, the lot, I’m sure.’

Eloise gave a sharp laugh. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ But in her heart of hearts she wished it were true. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain the invisible barrier she had erected in her mind that kept her from declaring her love to Marcus. And lying to Katy didn’t help. She longed to confide the truth to her friend, but she could imagine Katy’s angry reaction if she did. Marcus is not my boyfriend, he simply blackmailed me into being his mistress for a year and in return he won’t wreck our business. Katy would probably kill him…

‘And, to answer your first question, he’s in New York and likely to stay there for a while. And, knowing Marcus, I doubt if he’ll be missing me for long. There are too many beautiful women in the world ready to accommodate him.’

‘Your trouble is, you don’t realise how lovely you are, both inside and out. But Marcus knows, I’m sure.’

‘Thanks for the compliment, Katy, and I hope you’re right.’ Eloise forced a grin and, turning back to her drawing board, she added, ‘But in the meantime I suggest you and I get back to work,’ and resumed sketching.

Freedom was a funny thing Eloise mused, as she strolled down Kensington High Street on the second Friday of Marcus’s absence. Retail therapy, Katy had said as she’d told Eloise to take off for the afternoon.

Eloise had told herself she was glad to be on her own again, free to spend her time as she chose, but the reality was she missed Marcus’s lovemaking—even if it was just sex—and yes, she missed his company. She missed him…

Marcus had stipulated one year as his mistress, and to her horror last night she had actually caught herself working out how many weeks she had left, and resenting his time away from her. He was stunningly attractive, and she had heard New York was full of bright, beautiful women. Alone with her thoughts, she was eaten up with jealousy and finally realised Marcus might not even stay a year with her…

She knew he wasn’t actually bothered about the money she was supposed to be paying in kind. How could he be, when he spent a fortune on clothes and presents for her? She comforted herself with the thought perhaps he had got over his original anger, and genuinely enjoyed her company.

More and more over the past weeks Eloise had the growing conviction Marcus was truly beginning to care for her on a deeper level. He showed it in so many ways—flowers, an exquisite antique emerald and diamond necklace with matching earrings. She’d tried to refuse, but he wouldn’t let her, telling her it was a memento of their time in Paris, and had actually belonged to some duchess who was beheaded in the French revolution.

Sometimes the present was small, a single rose, and sometimes ridiculous, like when he left for New York and he presented her with a tiny ugly troll, and demanded, ‘Promise me this is the only male you will look at while I am away.’ Giggling, she’d promised and they’d made wonderful love. He telephoned her first thing in the morning British time, from his bed as it was about two in the morning in New York, and he liked to talk to her before going to sleep. She found it endearing, and it fed the hope that was growing in her heart that her love for him had a chance.

He was coming back next Tuesday and her spirit lifted at the thought, and she walked into Harrods with a smile on her face. A negligée to knock Marcus’s eyes out, she decided. Stopping by the perfume counter, she picked up a tester, and was about to spray some ruinously expensive scent on her wrist when a familiar voice called her name.

‘Eloise. How are you?’

She dropped the bottle back on the counter and turned around.

‘Ted. Ted Charlton, I have a bone to pick with you,’ she said bluntly, but she could not help smiling at his sheepish expression.

‘Guilty,’ he held up his hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say, but let me take you out for an early dinner, and I’ll explain.’

It was a warm summer evening and a long, lonely weekend stretched before her. She had nothing planned for tonight other than returning home and watching television. Why not? she thought.

‘Yes, okay.’ She waited while he bought a bottle of perfume.

‘I have a hot date Saturday night,’ he explained with a chuckle. ‘Let’s find somewhere to get a drink and then we’ll eat, and I’ll confess all my sins.’

Ted found them a great French restaurant and ordered a couple of Martinis, a bottle of good wine and the food.

‘I saw the pictures of you and Marcus in the press, and I can guess why you want to talk to me.’ Ted’s comment came over the aperitif.

Eloise took a moment to find her voice. ‘Marcus appears to be under the impression you and I…’ She cleared her throat, suddenly embarrassed.

‘I know what you’re trying to say.’ Ted helped her out. ‘And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lied. But try and understand from my point of view, Eloise.’

‘I’m listening,’ she said quietly.

‘Marcus Kouvaris is a lot younger than me—very handsome, very successful, very clever.’ Ted lifted his glass and drained it, looking rather wry.

One delicate brow arched quizzically. ‘So?’ she prompted.

‘Well, it doesn’t show me in a very favourable light.’

‘Ted, forget the light—just tell me what happened,’ Eloise said bluntly.

‘It was really my ex-wife’s fault. Her lawyer did me for millions, and I had a very sweet deal, almost completed. No disrespect to KHE, but it was worth a lot more than your small business, I was short of cash, and I needed the money quick. I knew Marcus Kouvaris was in town, and I remembered the way he’d looked at you.’

‘The way he looked at me? What on earth has that to do with your business dealings?’ she asked, totally confused.

‘I’m a man; I know how the male psyche works. So I approached Kouvaris to take my share of KHE off my hands. I knew he could easily afford it, and it would earn him Brownie points with you. I wasn’t wrong; he agreed immediately.’

‘You mean, you think Marcus bought in to KHE to please me?’ The enormity of what Ted was suggesting boggled her mind, until she remembered the blackmail. But, even so, Ted’s suggestion made her think… Marcus had not gone deliberately seeking shares in KHE, so that must mean something.

‘Of course, Eloise, you are a stunningly beautiful woman and a talented artist as well. There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t fancy you, believe me.’

‘Flattery, Ted, won’t get you off the hook. I want to know why you lied to Marcus about you and me.’

‘You can put it down to an old man’s pride or sour grapes. I invited Marcus to have dinner at my hotel to celebrate the deal, and then at my insistence we retired to the bar. What can I say?’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I had too much to drink and this exquisite blonde I had been trying to impress for the past few days made it very obvious she wasn’t interested in me—but that she fancied Marcus instead. He made it obvious he wasn’t interested, and when she finally gave up and left, after giving me the cold shoulder, I was feeling pretty miserable. So when Marcus asked exactly how well I knew you—’ He hesitated, his face turning a dull shade of red.

At least he had the grace to blush, Eloise thought, holding Ted’s blue eyes with her own. ‘Go on.’

‘I lied and said we’d spent the night together. It was male ego, and plain old-fashioned jealousy. First my ex-wife rejected me, and then the girl in the hotel who’d been quite happy to drink with me the night before only had eyes for Kouvaris. There’s only so much rejection one man can take. I admit I was drunk and I didn’t see why Marcus should get away worry-free, and if my stupid lie has hurt you in any way I’m sorry.’

Eloise shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter, Ted.’ The fact Marcus had turned down the other woman made her feel generous. ‘I forgive you.’

‘You love the guy.’

‘Something like that,’ she said with a smile. Marcus was not quite the devil she tried to paint him, she knew, and a tiny seed of hope rooted in her brain. Maybe her love for Marcus was not completely futile…

The food arrived and was excellent. It was nice to sit and chat with the ease of old friends; Ted was one of the few men she was comfortable with. Later, when Ted got her a cab to go home and insisted on accompanying her, she made no objection. She even asked him in for coffee…

Marcus swung out of the taxi, and leapt up the few steps to the entrance door of the Georgian building. He lifted a finger to press the bell for Eloise’s apartment and realised the door was open. Careless, but it suited his purpose. He wanted to surprise Eloise, and the tingling sense of anticipation at the thought of seeing her again lent speed to his long legs, as he ran up the two flights of stairs without catching his breath.

He’d spoken to her on the telephone late last night and told her he wouldn’t be back until next week. But after putting the phone down, having heard the husky sound of her voice ringing in his ears, he’d wanted her so badly he’d cancelled some meetings and crammed the rest into a couple of hours in the morning, and taken the next flight out of New York.

Marcus moved towards the door at the end of the hallway. He could hear the sound of voices. Good: she was home, and obviously watching the television. His hand grasped the door handle; it yielded to the pressure and he strode across the tiny inner hall, and into the sitting room.