The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel

‘Sorry,’ he said hastily, loosing his fingers, which he’d tightened against her instinctively.

‘Where was I? Ah, yes, exploring avenues.’

‘Forget Nikator,’ he snapped. ‘He’s not an avenue, he’s a dead end.’

‘Yes, I’d managed to work that out for myself. I’m not seventeen any more. I’m thirty-two, in my dotage.’

In her dotage, he thought ironically, with skin like soft peach, hair like silk and eyes that teased, inviting him just so far and warning him against going any further. But she was right about one thing. She was no child. She’d been around long enough to discover a good deal about men, and he had an uneasy feeling that she could read more about him than he wanted her—or anyone—to know.

‘If you’re fishing for compliments you picked the wrong man,’ he said.

‘Oh, sure, I’d never come to you for sweet nothings, or for anything except—yes, that would be something—’ She hesitated, as though trying to phrase it carefully. ‘Something you could give me better than any other man,’ she whispered at last.

He struggled not to say the words, but they came out anyway. ‘And what’s that?’

‘Good financial advice,’ she declared. ‘Aha! There, I did it.’

‘Did what?’

‘I made you laugh.’

‘I’m not laughing,’ he said through twitching lips.

‘You would be if you weren’t trying so hard not to. I bet myself I could make you laugh. Be nice. Give me my little victory.’

‘I’m never nice. But I’ll let you have it this once.’

‘Only this once?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows.

‘I prefer to claim victory for myself.’

‘I could take that as a challenge.’

Then there was silence as their bodies moved in perfect time, and she thought that yes, he was a challenge, and what a challenge he would be; so different from the easy-going men with whom she’d mostly spent her life. There was a darkness about him that he made little attempt to hide, and which tempted her, although she knew she was probably crazy.

‘Do your challenges usually work out as you plan?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes,’ she assured him. ‘I won’t settle for anything less than my own way.’

‘I’m exactly the same. What a terrible battle looms ahead.’

‘True,’ she said. ‘I’m trembling in fear of you.’

He didn’t speak, but a slow smile overtook his face—the smile of a man who didn’t believe her and was planning a clever move.

Petra had a strange feeling that the other women on the dance floor were staring at her. Most of them had slept with Lysandros, she’d been warned, and suddenly she knew it was true. Their eyes were feverish, full of memories, hot, sweet and glorious, followed by anguish. Mentally they raked her, undressed her, trying to imagine whether she would please him.

And that was really unnerving because she was trying to decide the same thing.

They spoke to her, those nameless women, telling her that he was a lover of phenomenal energy, who could last all night, untiring, driving her on to heights she’d never reached before, heights she wanted to discover.

There was one woman in particular whose greedy gaze caught her attention. Something about the extravagantly dressed, petulant creature made Petra wonder if this was the most recent of Lysandros’s conquests—and his rejections. Her eyes were like the others, but a thousand times more bitter, more murderous.

Then Lysandros turned her in the dance, faster and faster, taking her to a distant place where there was only the whirling movement that shut out the rest of the world. She gave herself up to it completely, wanting nothing else.

Would she too lie in his arms in a fever of passion? And would she end up like the others, yearning wretchedly from a distance?

But something told her that their path together wouldn’t be as simple as that.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a shout from a few yards off. Everyone stopped dancing and backed away, revealing the bride and groom locked in a passionate embrace. As befitted a glamorous couple, the kiss went on and on as the crowd cheered and applauded. Then some of the others began to embrace. More and more followed suit until it seemed as though the whole place was filled with lingering kisses.

Lysandros stood motionless, his arm still around her waist, the other hand holding hers. The space between them remained barely a centimetre. It would take only the slightest movement for him to cover that last tiny distance and lay his lips on hers. She looked up at him, her heart beating.

‘What a performance!’ he exclaimed, looking around and speaking in disapproving tones. ‘I won’t insult you by subjecting you to it.’

He released her, stepping back and giving her no choice but to do the same.

‘Thank you,’ she said formally. ‘It’s delightful to meet a man with a sense of propriety.’

She could have hit him.

‘I’m afraid I must be going,’ he said. ‘I’ve neglected my affairs for too long. It’s been a pleasure meeting you again.’

‘And you,’ she said crisply.

He inclined his head courteously, and in a moment he was gone.

Thunderstruck, she watched him, barely believing what had happened, and so suddenly. He was as deep in desire as herself. All her instincts told her that beyond a shadow of doubt. Yet he’d denied that desire, fought it, overcome it, because that was what he had decided to do.

This was a man of steely will, which he would impose no matter what the cost to himself or anyone else. He’d left her without even a glance back. It was like a blow in the stomach.

‘Don’t worry. Just be patient.’

Petra looked up to see the woman who’d caught her attention while they’d danced. Now she recalled seeing her arrive at the wedding with one of the city’s most wealthy and powerful men. She was regarding Petra with a mixture of contempt and pity.

‘I couldn’t help watching you—and Lysandros,’ she said, moving nearer. ‘It’s his way, you see. He’ll come just so close, and then withdraw to consider the matter. When he’s decided that he can fit you in with his other commitments he’ll return and take his pleasure at his own time and his own convenience.’

‘If I agree,’ Petra managed to say.

The woman gave a cold, tinkly laugh.

‘Don’t be absurd, of course you’ll agree. It’s written all over you. He could walk back right this minute and you’d agree.’

‘I guess you know what you’re talking about,’ Petra said softly.

‘Oh, yes, I know. I’ve been there. I know what’s going through your head because it went through mine. “Who does he think he is to imagine he can just walk back and I’ll yield to him on command?” But then he looks at you as if you’re the only woman in the world, and you do yield on his command. And it’ll be wonderful—for a while. In his arms, in his bed, you’ll discover a universe you never knew existed.

‘But one day you’ll wake up and find yourself back on earth. It will be cold because he’s gone. He’s done with you. You no longer exist. You’ll weep and refuse to believe it, but he won’t answer the phone, so after a while you’ll have to believe it.’