Greek Tycoon, Waitress Wife

Greek Tycoon, Waitress Wife
Julia James

Step into a world of sophistication and glamour, where sinfully seductive heroes await you in luxurious international locations.She was working as a waitress when the most mindblowing man walked into her weary, drab world and, in the blink of an eye, swept her into his!Carrie Richards has stepped into the glittering world of Greek billionaire Alexeis Nicolaides. Luxurious hotels, designer clothes and rare jewels are all hers…if she wants to pay the price. Could life get any better? No! What they share in the bedroom is explosive, but the consequences of one night together lead to a shocking end to Carrie’s fairytale.She discovers that Alexeis is not her Prince Charming…he is a man who will make her his – no matter what the cost!

He found himself smiling at her. Giving her the reassurance she was silently seeking.

‘It will be all right,’ he said. ‘I promise you.’

The flicker was in her eyes again. ‘It’s just that…’

‘It’s just that I’m a complete stranger and I picked you up off the street.’

The blunt way he said it made her cheeks colour. But he had done it deliberately, spelling out her fears, her apprehension and unease.

‘Over dinner, I trust we will get to know each other more. But nothing will happen that you do not want to happen. You have my word on this.’

His eyes held hers, and then, out of the solemnity, a smile slanted suddenly across his face. Carrie felt that dazzle glitter inside her, as it had done when she’d first seen that incredible smile in the car.

Slowly she nodded, swallowing. She wasn’t being stupid—she wasn’t! She was simply being—

Carried away. Swept away. But why not? Why not? What was the harm in it? And how could she walk away now? She didn’t have the strength of mind to do so. And she didn’t have the will. Why should she? He wasn’t some seedy, creepy bloke—he was… gorgeous. Fantastic. Devastating. Irresistible. And someone like that would never, never appear twice in her life.

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out. The champagne still seemed to be fizzing in her veins.

Julia James lives in England with her family. Mills & Boon

novels were Julia’s first ‘grown-up’ books, read as a teenager—‘Alongside Georgette Heyer and Daphne du Maurier’—and she’s been reading them ever since.

Julia adores the English countryside—‘And the Celtic countryside!’—in all its seasons, and is fascinated by all things historical, from castles to cottages. She also has a special love for the Mediterranean—‘The most perfect landscape after England!’—and she considers both are ideal settings for romance stories! Since becoming a romance writer she has, she says, had the great good fortune to start discovering the Caribbean as well, and is happy to report that those magical, beautiful islands are also ideal settings for romance stories!

‘One of the best things about writing romance is that it gives you a great excuse to take holidays in fabulous places!’ says Julia. ‘All in the name of research, of course!’

Her first stab at novel-writing was Regency Romances—‘But, alas, no one wanted to publish them!’ she says. She put her writing aside until her family commitments were clear, and then renewed her love-affair with contemporary romances. ‘My writing partner and I made a pact not to give up until we were published—and we both succeeded! Natasha Oakley writes for Mills & Boon

Romance, and we faithfully read each other’s works-in-progress and give each other a lot of free advice and encouragement!’

In between writing Julia enjoys walking, gardening, needlework, and baking ‘extremely gooey chocolate cakes’—and trying to stay fit!

GREEK TYCOON, WAITRESS WIFE

BY

JULIA JAMES

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

GREEK TYCOON, WAITRESS WIFE

CHAPTER ONE

ALEXEIS NICOLAIDES glanced around him with displeasure. It had been a mistake to come here. A mistake to indulge Marissa. He was only in London for a twenty-four-hour stopover, and when he’d got out of the day-long meeting in the City and returned to his hotel suite he’d simply wanted to find her waiting for him. Then, once the bare niceties had been dispensed with, and they had made polite and completely empty enquiries about each other’s well-being, he would have done what his fundamental interest in Marissa was: taken her to bed. Instead, however, he had ended up in this overcrowded art gallery, bored rigid and surrounded by yapping idiots—among whom Marissa was the key offender. At this moment she was giving full throat to her knowledge of the art market and the financial worth of the artist on display. Alexeis couldn’t have cared less about either.

And with every passing moment he was caring less and less about Marissa, and about spending any more time with her. Not here—and not even in bed.

Even as he stood there, an expression of growing irritation in his eyes, he made his decision. Marissa was going to have to go. Up till now she hadn’t been much of a problem—no more than any woman was, for they all, invariably, wanted to outstay their shelf-life with him. But three months on Marissa, savvy as well as beddable, was evidently starting to think she could start making demands. Like insisting he take her to this opening. Doubtless she thought that an absence of a fortnight would have whetted his appetite for her so much that he would be complaisant to her whims.

His dark eyes narrowed.

Mistake. His was not a complaisant nature. The Nicolaides wealth had always meant that he could call the shots when it came to women. He chose the ones he wanted and then they did what he wanted—or they were out. No matter how beautiful, how desirable, how highly they rated themselves.

Marissa Harcourt rated herself very highly. She was ferociously chic, with head-turning looks, a well-connected background, an Oxbridge degree and a fashionable and highly paid career in the art world. Clearly she considered these attributes sufficient not just to attach herself to a man like himself, but to hold him.

Did she even, Alexeis found himself speculating, consider them sufficient to hold him permanently?

Her predecessor had thought so. Adrianna Garsoni, whose exotic looks, soaring soprano voice and talent for self-promotion ensured her status as a diva at La Scala, had clearly believed that marrying Alexeis would mean the rich Nicolaides coffers could be put to work furthering her career. The moment Adrianna had shown her hand, making it clear she considered that marriage was on the agenda, Alexeis had disposed of her. Her reaction had been volatile in the extreme, but irrelevant to him. In comparison with Adrianna’s tempestuous personality, Alexeis had welcomed Marissa’s cool chic, as well as enjoying her highly sensual nature in bed.

Now, it seemed, much to his irritation, she would have to go too. He had quite enough going on in his life as it was. Alexeis’s thoughts shifted closer to home, and mouth tightened automatically. His father was currently marrying his fifth wife, and far too busy to bother himself with the intricacies and pressure of running a global business. As for his half-brother, Yannis, he was the offspring of his father’s second marriage, and far too busy pursuing his twin pleasures in life—fast sports and faster women. Alexeis’s mouth tightened even more.

However, he knew that the last thing he’d welcome was his father trying to interfere in how he was running the group, or Yannis trying to muscle in on it. The latter, at least, was one thing upon which Alexeis saw eye to eye with his mother. Berenice Nicolaides was vehement in her determination that the son of the woman who had usurped her should not get his hands on what she considered her own son’s rightful inheritance—nothing less than total and permanent control of the Nicolaides Group. Alexeis’s reason for wanting Yannis out of the picture was less vindictive—he merely considered his brother feckless, hedonistic, and far too much of a risk to be involved in running so large and complex a company.

Alexeis didn’t always agree with his mother. And on one aspect of his inheritance he was completely at odds with her. Alexeis’s eyes darkened as they always did when his thoughts were called in that unwelcome direction. Berenice was convinced—obsessed, he amended—that he should marry an heiress, preferably Greek-born, both to bolster his own financial position and to present his father with a grandson to continue the Nicolaides dynasty. Her constant attempts to matchmake only exasperated Alexeis.

As did, right now, Marissa’s discoursing on the art market. He made some perfunctory reply, still considering whether to end their relationship right now. The trouble was, if he did, he would be facing yet another night on his own. The dilemma worsened his mood and, peremptorily, he beckoned to a server circulating with drinks. As his fingers circled the stem of a champagne flute, he found himself glancing at her.

And holding the glance.

Long, blonde hair, caught back in a clip at her nape, an oval face with flawless features, translucent skin, a short straight nose and accented cheekbones. Wide-set, long-lashed clear grey eyes completed the package—the very delectable package. His first thought was automatic. What was a girl with looks like that doing working as a waitress?

He took the glass, murmuring a thank-you, and the girl’s eyes met his.

He could see it happen as if in slow motion: her reaction to him. Her reaction to the way he was looking at her.

The soft grey-blue eyes widened, pupils dilating and her lips parted slightly. For one long moment she looked—helpless. That was the word, thought Alexeis. As if there was nothing she could do except meet his eyes and let him look at her.

Out of nowhere, Alexeis felt his mood improve. She really was very, very lovely—

‘There’s no mineral water.’

Marissa’s voice was a snap of complaint. Suddenly the waitress looked flustered. Her eyes broke from Alexeis, and went to the woman at his side.

‘I—I’m very sorry,’ she stammered.

She had a low voice, Alexeis noted, and sounded nervous and under stress. The tray, crowded with brimming glasses, wobbled slightly in her uplifted hands.

Marissa rasped in irritation. ‘Well, don’t just stand there like a dummy. Go and get some. Still, not sparkling—and no lemon.’

The girl swallowed. ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ she got out. Jerkily, she turned to go. As she did, another of the guests in the crowded gallery stepped back abruptly and collided with her. Instinctively Alexeis felt his hand go out to balance the tray in the girl’s hands, but it was too late. The glass of orange juice nearest the edge tottered crazily and then cascaded forwards, smashing to the ground and emptying its contents all over Marissa’s cocktail dress.

‘You idiot!’ Marissa’s voice was shrill with fury. ‘Just look what you’ve done!’