The Ruthless Greek's Return

As his words filtered down the line, Jessica froze, because even though it had been a long time since she’d heard it, the Greek term sounded thrillingly familiar. My doll. That was what it meant. Jessica bit her lip. He used to say it to her a lot, but never with quite such contempt. Once she had trembled with pleasure when he had whispered it into her ear but now the words seemed to mean different things. They seemed tinged with foreboding rather than affection.

‘And if I don’t?’ she questioned defiantly.

‘Why not take a little advice, mmm? Let’s not get this relationship off on a bad footing,’ he said. ‘Your initial refusal to cooperate irritated me but your game-playing is starting to irritate me even more. Don’t make the mistake of overestimating your own appeal, Jess—and don’t push me too far.’

‘And is that...’ she drew in a deep breath ‘...supposed to intimidate me?’

‘It’s supposed to make you aware of where we both stand.’

There was a pause and his voice suddenly changed gear. It became sultry and velvety. It sounded irresistible.

‘Do you really have a date tonight, Jess?’

She wanted to say yes—to tell him that some gorgeous man was coming round to take her out. A man who was carrying a big bunch of flowers and wearing a soppy grin on his face. And that after champagne and oysters, he would bring her back here and make mad, passionate love to her.

But the vision disintegrated before her eyes, because the thought of any man other than Loukas touching her left her cold. And how sad was that?

‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t.’

‘Thavmassios.’ His voice dipped with satisfaction. ‘Then I will see you later. Oh, and make sure you bring your passport.’

‘What for?’

‘What do you think? The new team want to use an exotic location for the shoot,’ he said impatiently. ‘Just do it, will you, Jess? I don’t intend to run everything past you for your approval—that’s not how it works. It’s certainly not how I work.’

He terminated the connection and Jessica found herself listening frustratedly to a hollow silence. But there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to have to change her image, if that was what it took. She would accept the makeover and smile for the camera and do her best to hold onto her contract for as long as she could. But that was all she would do. She knew what else he wanted and that certainly wasn’t written into the deal.

She didn’t have to sleep with him.

She closed all the windows, turned off the heating and emptied the fridge and two hours later a sleek black limousine arrived to collect her, slowly negotiating its way along the narrow, unmade road which led to her house.

It felt disorientating to hand her bags to the uniformed driver and slide onto the back seat as the powerful vehicle pulled away. During the journey she tried to read but it was impossible to concentrate. Her mind kept taking her back to places she didn’t want to go—and the past was her biggest no-go destination. She stared out of the window and watched as the Cornish countryside gave way to Devon and found herself thinking about Loukas and the way he used to come and watch her practising, way before they’d got to know each other.

The public footpath used to cross right by their tennis court when she had lived at the big house, and she would look up with a fast-beating heart to find a dark and brooding figure standing there. It used to drive her father potty, but it was a public space and he could hardly order the Greek bodyguard away. Not that he would have dared try. Loukas Sarantos wasn’t the kind of man you would order to do anything. She’d been a bit scared of him herself. He had been so dark and effortlessly powerful, and the way she’d caught him looking at her legs had made her feel... It was difficult to put into words the way he’d made her feel. She had tried very hard to steer her thoughts away from him and to concentrate on the fact that she double-faulted every time he watched her.

‘He will destroy your career!’ her father had roared and Jessica had promised that she wouldn’t see him—though at that point he hadn’t even asked her out.

And then she’d run into him in the village when her father had taken his wife and Hannah up to London and Jessica had been given a rare day to herself. She hadn’t gone near a tennis ball all day and that had felt like a liberation in itself. She’d been feeling restless and rebellious and had wandered to the nearby shop to buy herself chocolate. Her hand had been hovering over the purple-wrapped bar when a deeply accented voice had said,

‘Do you really think you should?’

She had looked up into a pair of mocking black eyes and something had happened. It had felt like being touched by magic. As if her heart had caught fire. She didn’t remember what they’d said, only that he’d flirted with her and she’d flirted back in a way which had seemed to come as easily as breathing—because how could you not flirt with a man like Loukas? He had been exotic, different, edgy and enigmatic, but that hadn’t mattered. Nothing had mattered other than the urgent need to be near him.

She’d offered to show him the famous borehole which was set in the surrounding cliffs like the imprint of a giant cannonball. His stride had been longer than hers and she remembered the wind whipping her ponytail as they’d stared down into the dark hollow. He’d told her that it reminded him of the diamond mine owned by his Russian boss, but she hadn’t been particularly interested in hearing about diamonds. All she’d wanted was for him to kiss her, and he must have known that, because mid-sentence he’d stopped and and said, ‘Oh, so that’s what you want, is it, little Miss Tennis?’ And he had caught her in his arms and his dark head had moved slowly towards hers and she had been lost.

The kiss had sealed a deal she hadn’t realised they were making. Jessica had wanted to have sex with him instantly, but something had made her pull back. Because even though she’d wanted him very badly, instinct had told her that he was a man used to women falling at his feet and she should take it slowly. And somehow she had.

Two weeks had felt like an eternity before she’d let him take her virginity, and if part of her had wondered if all that sensual promise could possibly be met, she’d discovered that it could. Oh, it had. For someone who’d spent her life relying on her body to help her win, who had worked through all the pain and injuries, she had now discovered a completely different use for it. An intense pleasure which had made the rest of the world fade away. He had made her gasp. He had made her heart want to burst with joy. She had been hooked on sex and hooked on him.

They had snatched what moments they could and maybe the subterfuge had only added to the excitement. He’d told her his boss wouldn’t approve of their relationship and Jessica had known her father would have hit the roof if he’d known. But that hadn’t stopped her falling in love with Loukas, even though she would sooner have flown to the moon than showed it. Until the night when she’d blurted it out to him. She could remember even now the slow way he had smiled at her...

And then her father had found her contraceptive pills. Even now she cringed at the humiliating scene which had followed. She should have told him it was none of his business, but she had been barely eighteen and had spent her life being told what to do by someone for whom ambition had been everything. He had confronted Loukas. Told him he had taken advantage of his daughter, and had threatened to go to his boss. And what had Loukas done? She bit her lip, because even now it hurt to remember him squaring up his shoulders, as if he’d been just about to step into the fray. In a gruff and unfamiliar voice he had offered to marry her.

And her response? She had said no, because what else could she have said? She’d known he had only been asking her because he’d felt it was the right thing to do and she couldn’t bear to trap this proud man in a relationship he’d never intended. Had she been able to see the two of them together—even ten years down the line? No, she hadn’t. And if she was being honest, her career had been too important for her to want to risk it on the random throw of an emotional dice. She’d been working towards being a champion since she’d been four years old. Had she really been prepared to throw all that away because Loukas had been offering something out of a misplaced sense of duty?

But her heart had been breaking as she’d ended their affair, even though she’d known it was the right thing to do. She remembered the way he had looked at her, an expression of slowly dawning comprehension hardening his black eyes, before he had laughed. A low, bitter laugh—as if she had just confirmed something he’d already known.

She remembered the way she’d felt as he had turned his back on her and walked away—a clear bright pain which had seemed to consume her. That was the last time she’d seen him, until the moment she’d walked into the penthouse office at Lulu’s—a bodyguard no longer but an international tycoon. Jessica shook her head in slight disbelief. How on earth had he managed that?

The slowing pace of the traffic made her realise that they’d hit central London and that the limousine was drawing up outside the Vinoly Hotel, a place she’d never stayed in before. The company usually put her up in the infinitely larger Granchester whenever she was in London and she wondered why they’d sent her here.

The driver opened the door. ‘Mr Sarantos says to inform you that a suite has been booked in your name and that you are to order anything you need.’

Jessica nodded and walked into the interior of the plush hotel, whose foyer was dominated by a red velvet sofa in the shape of a giant pair of lips. A Perspex chair on a gilt chain was suspended from the ceiling and impossibly cool-looking young people in jeans and expensive jackets were sprawled around, drinking coffee and tapping away furiously on their laptops.

The receptionist smiled as she handed her a key card and an envelope. ‘This was delivered for you earlier,’ she said. ‘We hope you have a pleasant stay with us, Miss Cartwright. The valet will show you to your suite.’

Jessica didn’t have to look at the envelope to know who it was from. Her heart was racing as she recognised Loukas’s handwriting—bold and flowing and unlike any other she’d ever seen. She knew his education had been patchy. He’d taught himself to read and write, but had ended up at the age of seventeen without a single qualification, other than a driving licence. But that was pretty much all she knew because he had been notoriously tight-lipped about his childhood. A sombre look used to darken his face whenever she dared ask, so that in the end she gave up trying—because wasn’t it easier to grab at rainbows rather than chase after storms?

She waited until she was in her suite before opening the envelope, so intent on reading it that she barely noticed the stark decor of the room. Loukas’s message was fairly stark, too.

I trust you had a good journey. Meet me in the dining room downstairs at eight. In the wardrobe you will find a black dress. Wear it.

Jessica’s mouth dried. It was an explicit request which sounded almost sexual. Had that been his intention? Did he plan to make her skin prickle with excitement the moment she read it, or to make her feel the molten pull of desire? Walking over to the line of wardrobe doors, she pulled open the first to find a dress hanging there—noting without any sense of surprise that it was made by a renowned designer. It was deceptively simple—a masterpiece fashioned from heavy silk and Jessica could instantly see how exquisitely it was cut. She thought how beautifully it would hang, and wasn’t there a tiny part of her which longed to wear it? Because it was a sexy dress. A woman’s dress. The kind of garment which would be worn in the knowledge that later a man would remove it.