The Greek's Innocent Virgin

Sebastian had found it impossible to comprehend Matthias’s willingness to stay married. How could he have allowed himself to be manipulated by his sexuality into pursuing a lifestyle the total antithesis of what he had known his first sixty-plus years? A man should live his final years with dignity, but his uncle had not.

Humiliation had been his companion, particularly for the past year. What had spurred Andrea to wave her sexual conquests in her elderly husband’s face? What had made her behave so foully? And why had Rachel ignored it all, never once attempting to stop the abhorrent behavior?

The dark night outside his bedroom window offered no answers, but the questions served to remind him that no matter how different Rachel appeared on the surface, she had been too self-interested to care about Matthias Demakis.

Just like her mother.

Rachel finished packing the last box in her mother’s bedroom and closed it. A sense of accomplishment warred with disappointment. She’d searched Andrea’s room thoroughly and found nothing related to her life before she married Matthias Demakis. No indication of who the man who had fathered Rachel might be.

Considering her mother’s taste in companions, she would have given up her desire to find him years ago but for two poignant memories from her childhood.

She’d been little, three, maybe four, and sitting on a man’s lap. He’d been reading to her and while she had no idea what he’d been reading, she could still remember the sense of love and security she’d felt. She’d called him, “Daddy,” and kissed his cheek when he’d finished. He’d hugged her tight and when she closed her eyes she could remember that hug.

It had made her feel safe.

And she remembered waking in the night and searching an apartment in the dark for her daddy, crying and calling his name. She’d been about five, or six then. Her mother had slept on, no doubt passed out from alcohol or something more potent, but Rachel had stayed up all night, accepting that her daddy wasn’t coming back only when the first rays of sun indicated a new day.

She didn’t know if her father had chosen to stay out of their lives as her mother had claimed or if he had been unable to find them. Andrea and Rachel had lived in various parts of Europe since Rachel had started school. Her mother’s exploits had made the gutter press at times, but wouldn’t have been noteworthy in the States. She had been neither filthy rich, until Matthias, nor a celebrity.

Even her marriage to Matthias Demakis had only made her of interest to a few gossip rags in the States. While other students at her university had learned enough about her exploits to judge Rachel on them, that didn’t mean a man who hadn’t seen Andrea in over twenty years would recognize her in publicized photos, or even read that type of paper.

Rachel wanted to believe her father was an American man, unaware of Andrea’s recent notoriety and longtime residence in Europe. However, she had to acknowledge that he could very well be as permanently gone as Andrea.

Shaking off thoughts that led nowhere, Rachel ran tape along the box’s seam. For whatever reason, her father was lost to her and that was that. She tore the tape off and straightened, blowing at a strand of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. Emotionally detached, she surveyed the once decadent room now stripped of much of its sumptuous decor.

Sebastian had encouraged her to pack everything for the auction. He planned to redo the room in the near future, erasing Andrea’s influence on the villa as thoroughly as possible. Of course, that’s not how he’d put it. He’d been very tactful since their discussion in the study three days ago, but his feelings regarding Andrea Demakis were no secret.

Stretching tired muscles, Rachel reached toward the ceiling and then bent from one side to the other. Her muscles ached and her eyes burned with fatigue. She’d spent a lot of time on her knees packing and sorting in the past three days and had slept poorly at night, too much time given to reliving Sebastian’s kiss.

Bending forward, she touched her fingertips to the plush carpeting. Straightening, she leaned backward, doing almost a backbend, and saw a pair of trouser covered male legs.

The Greek curse that met her ears was instantly recognizable and just as startling.

Her balance gave way and she could do nothing to stop falling flat on her back, bumping her head in the process.

Sebastian dropped to his knee beside her, his gorgeous features set in concerned lines. “Are you all right, pedhaki mou?”

She couldn’t speak, her breath having been knocked right out of her. The best she could do was a series of guppy-like movements with her lips.

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and gently pulled her into a sitting position, causing a whoosh of air to make its way into her lungs.

“Thank you,” she croaked out.

He probed the back of her head with his fingertips. “Does this hurt?”

“Just a little.”

“There is no bump forming.”

“I’m all right.”

He didn’t release her, but continued checking for injuries in a way that left her trembly with want. “What were you doing?”

She felt heat blister her cheeks while she tried to control the urge to touch back. “Stretching.”

“You fell.”

“You surprised me,” she informed him in a cranky tone that made her cringe inside. “I lost my balance.”

“Ah, so it is my fault.”

She tilted her head back to see his face, unable to credit the humor in his voice, but it was reflected in his molten metal eyes. So was a warmth she would do well to pretend was not there.

“Yes.”

“Then I must do something to show my remorse at causing such a mishap.”

Her jaw locked against any word she might have uttered as his mouth came down to meet her own.

It was not a flaming kiss, had no overt passion in it, but nevertheless, her heart went wild and her body ached to align itself with his.

Thankfully, his hold on her shoulders was too strong to allow her to do it and humiliate herself in the process.

He lifted his head. “You have sweet lips, Rachel.”

She licked them, tasting only him. “Thank you.”

“So polite.” He kissed her again, this time letting his lips linger for a few seconds, letting his tongue slip out to gently mesh with her own.

He pulled back far enough to speak. “Have I made up for my transgression?”

His breath brushed her lips tantalizingly and she wanted to continue the kiss, but she forced out a choked, “Yes.”

“That is unfortunate.”

Oh, man…this guy was one-hundred percent lethal. “Y-yes, it is.”

“Maybe I should put something on account.”

She couldn’t say anything as his mouth came over hers again, but just as the kiss was turning wickedly interesting, Phillippa’s voice came from the doorway.

“Is she all right, Sebastian? What happened?”

Making a low sound of frustration, he lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. “I startled her when she was stretching and she fell.”

“I’m fine,” Rachel added, prickling with hot embarrassment at having her clumsiness revealed as well as being caught kissing him.

“Are you sure? You are still on the floor.”