Mediterranean Nights: The Mistress Purchase / The Demetrios Virgin / Marco's Convenient Wife

One of the men made a sexually abusive comment about her in French, causing Sadie to lock gazes with him in silent contempt. Thanks to her maternal grandmother, her own French was fluent and comprehensive, but there was no way she was going to lower herself to making any kind of response to what she had just overheard.

Instead she stepped sideways and, keeping her head held high, walked past the group of men, mentally promising herself that she would make sure Raoul knew exactly what she thought of him and his promotional ideas when he later returned to their hotel!

She was almost past the men when one of them suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of her arm.

Sadie was wearing a sleeveless black dress, and the sensation of the man’s unwanted touch on her bare skin made her shudder and immediately pull herself free. Not only angry now, but also beginning to feel queasily apprehensive, Sadie kept on walking, her gaze resolutely fixed on the exit.

Which was no doubt why she didn’t see the other man who suddenly loomed up at the side of her, having either bypassed or emerged from the leering crowd she had just escaped from.

She might not be able to see him, but she was immediately conscious of him, Sadie acknowledged as the felt the restrictive shadow his presence cast over her. And instinctively she knew! A sharp frisson of awareness shuddered through her, causing her to turn slightly towards him, even though she didn’t want to. Her recognition of him was immediate—and shocking. His height and the breadth of his shoulders made her catch her breath, and she could sense too the alien and intensely male quality about him that had stopped her in her tracks earlier that day. Now it caused her to sway a little on her high heels as her body registered things about him that broke through her normal reserve.

She turned back sharply, determined to continue her journey. To her shock he lightly tapped her on the shoulder. Immediately Sadie swung round on her heels to confront him, her tawny gaze suddenly hazing as she realised just how far she had to look up before she could look into his eyes.

Just how tall was he? Six-two… six-three… four? He looked as though he might be Greek, Sadie recognised; he had olive skin colouring and the right kind of arrogantly and openly aristocratic good looks—the sculpted cheekbones; the hawk nose, the clean jawline and the thick jet-black hair. But his eyes weren’t a warm, rich brown, they were an icy pale green, and he had a lean fitness about him that was possessed by very few Greek men in their early thirties, which Sadie estimated he must be.

Sadie saw him look at her and then frown slightly, leaning closer to her and very deliberately sniffing the air. The disparaging look he gave her made her whole body burn.

‘That’s an unusual perfume you’re wearing. Is it up for sale as well?’ he demanded, in a voice that was pure soft sensuality with an accent that was equally pure Australian.

Sadie had had enough. In fact she’d had more than enough. Jerking back from him, she hissed bitingly, ‘How dare you imply that I am for sale? What is it about men like you?’

‘Men like me?’ His pale green eyes narrowed icily. ‘Well, let’s put it this way—when it comes to women like you, then men like me tend to be a bit on the fussy side. I like my women like my perfume. Exclusive!’

He broke off suddenly, turning away from Sadie as the older man at his side touched his arm, and murmured something to him whilst looking at Sadie with distaste.

CHAPTER ONE

“HUBBLE bubble toil and trouble.”

Sadie grinned as she met the teasing look her best friend Mary gave her as she stepped into the workroom where Sadie distilled the ingredients of her perfumes.

‘Mmm… What a wonderful smell!’ Mary exclaimed enthusiastically.

Sadie’s smile widened. ‘It’s a special personal order I’m doing.’

‘For someone famous? Who?’ Mary pounced.

Sadie shook her head and laughed.

‘You know I can’t tell you that. It’s a matter of client confidentiality.’

‘Mmm… well, since the press got wind of the fact that a certain very, very famous singer has asked you to design a special signature scent for her, I can only assume…’

‘Don’t ask me any more questions about it,’ Sadie begged fervently. Her smile changing to a look of concern. No doubt other people in her position would have welcomed the publicity she had received when it had become public knowledge that she had been asked to design the singer’s perfume, but Sadie valued her privacy and her anonymity. And besides…

‘I take it that you’re still going to France?’ Mary asked her.

Sadie’s frown deepened.

‘I don’t have any real choice,’ she admitted tersely, ‘Raoul is making it impossible for me not to go. He’s determined to sell the business to this Greek billionaire who wants to add it to his luxury goods consortium…’

‘Leoneadis Stapinopolous, you mean?’

‘Yes,’ Sadie agreed even more shortly. ‘Or the Greek Destroyer, as I call him!’

‘Destroyer?’ Mary shook her head. ‘You really don’t like him, do you?’

‘I certainly don’t like what he’s planning to do to Francine!’ Sadie told her fiercely.

‘Well, by all accounts he’s a very shrewd operator,’ Mary allowed. ‘The consortium he heads is worth billions, and since he took on that new designer to redesign the women’s wear side of his acquisitions… well, there isn’t a woman going who doesn’t secretly yearn for a little something with their label on it.’

‘No?’ Sadie gave her a grim look. ‘Well, I certainly don’t.’ When she saw her friend’s face, she protested, ‘Mary, he doesn’t just want to buy the perfume house, he wants to buy the rights to the perfume my grandmother left to me as well…. Raoul is trying to pressurise me into selling it, but there is no way I am going to. That perfume was designed by my great-grandfather for my great-grandmother. He only allowed a handful of clients to have the perfume. My grandmother left the secret of its make-up to me because she knew that I would protect it! The whole reason she quarrelled with her brother was because he wanted to do exactly what Raoul wants to do now.’

‘So don’t go to France, then!’ Mary told her forthrightly.

‘I have to. I own thirty per cent of the business, and there’s no way I’m going to let Raoul sell it to this… this… Greek…’

‘Sex god?’ Mary supplied helpfully, with a gleam in her eyes.

‘Sex god?’ Sadie queried disapprovingly.

‘Haven’t you seen his photo in the financial press?’

When Sadie shook her head Mary grinned.

‘Wow, is he something else! His great-grandparents were Greek, and they settled in Australia as a young couple.’

‘You seem to know a lot about him,’ Sadie challenged her.

‘Like I just said, he’s a very sexy man—and I’m a sexy-man-hungry woman!’ Mary grinned. ‘Speaking of which, you are crazy, you know, hiding yourself away down here in Pembroke when you could be living the high life in Paris and Cannes—not to mention flying here, there and everywhere mixing powerfully potent perfumes for your celeb clients. How does Raoul feel about your business, by the way?’ she asked.

‘Francine no longer makes one-off perfumes to order,’ Sadie responded, ‘so there is no conflict of interest there. But…’

When she paused, Mary urged her to continue. ‘But?’

Sadie gave a small sigh.

‘Well, Raoul is pressing me to produce a new perfume. The one he tricked me into wearing at the trade fair was one of his late father’s “mistakes”. Grandmère always said her brother did not have a “nose”, and her nephew seems to lack one also! Now he wants me to create a new perfume for Francine.’

‘But you don’t want to?’ Mary guessed.

Sadie gave an exasperated sigh.

‘I do want to. I want to very much. In fact it would be a dream come true for me to create a new Francine perfume. But…’ Sadie lifted her hands expressively.

‘As you know, my perfumes come from wholly natural materials, and are made in a traditional way, whereas Raoul favours modern procedures and chemically manufactured products. And it’s not just that! I just hope that I can persuade him not to go ahead with this sale, Mary. Raoul is the majority shareholder, of course, but we are one of the last few remaining traditional perfume houses, and to sell our birthright for—’

‘A mess of pottage?’ Mary interrupted obligingly, tongue in cheek.