The Virgin's Secret Page 10

  Disgusted with his reaction, he’d had to call her name to get her to turn around, and she’d done so, so slowly it had had the effect of a striptease on his body, even when she was fully clothed!

  Her breasts were lovingly caressed by the silk of the dress, the deep V between them a shadow of promise. Her head had been high, chin tipped up in a gesture that had seemed almost defiant. It had been all Leo could do to stand still and extend an autocratic hand, gesturing her to come to him. And when she’d walked, and the soft silk had swirled around her body—

  Leo came back to the present and shifted uncomfortably in the back of the car.

  For a second the cool and controlled woman suddenly looked slightly unsure. And Leo reacted. What was he doing, all but drooling over her like this? His hand tightened on hers for a second, and he felt the small delicate bones, the slight roughness of her skin that hinted at the work she’d been doing, and his chest tightened again for a second.

  He thrust aside all the nebulous feelings he didn’t understand, and asked, ‘How do you think your father will react to seeing us together when he gets the papers tomorrow? Because this is going to be all over the world, Angel…’

  Angel shivered and tried to pull her hand away, but Leo held it tight. She hated him in that moment. Really hated him. The only thing stopping her from trying to jump out of the car as it idled at a set of lights was the memory of the ecstatic phone call she’d had from Delphi earlier, telling her that she would be marrying Stavros in a month’s time. And also the surprise that Angel had felt at Leo acting on his word so soon.

  Her voice was unaccountably husky, with all the confusing emotions rushing through her. ‘I think you know very well how he’ll react. He’ll be apoplectic. He’ll be utterly humiliated.’

  Leo lifted a brow, speculation all over his face. ‘Will he, though, Angel? Or have you and he planned exactly this all along?’

  Hating feeling so cornered and mistrusted, Angel hit back. ‘What if we have? You’ll never know, will you?’

  Leo moved close and Angel arched back, but it was no good. Leo’s hand came out and caressed the back of her neck. His other hand came up and cupped her silk-covered breast. She hadn’t been able to wear a bra, and she was horrified to feel her nipple peak and thrust against the silk. His thumb moved lazily against her nipple and Angel bit back a moan. How could he have this effect on her?

  ‘I’ll know, Angel, because from now on, until I’m bored with you, I’ll know every move you make. So any plans you and he have cooked up will be futile.’

  ‘But we don’t—’

  Her words were crushed under Leo’s mouth and everything disappeared into a haze of urgent desire. Since he’d come into her room earlier, when she’d not even been able to turn around to face him until he’d called her name, finally doing so with her heart beating so loud he had to have heard it, Angel had, in some deep and traitorous place wanted to feel his mouth on hers again.

  And now it was, and she was being sucked under all over again. Mindlessly helpless to fight him. She wasn’t aware of the car drawing to a halt, or the driver clearing his throat. She was only aware of Leo pulling back, and her gasping in of breath when she opened her eyes and tried to focus. Her body felt jittery and on fire. Leo just smiled at her, triumph in his gaze, and Angel could only watch as his eyes travelled down and took in the obvious state of her arousal, her nipples as hard as berries, standing out starkly against the unforgiving silk.

  ‘Perfect.’

  And before Angel knew what he meant Leo was out of the car, coming around to open her door and pulling her out. She still felt dizzy, spaced out, and then there was nothing but Leo’s hand around hers and a barrage of lights and questions. She’d just become Leo’s very public property.

  Later, Angel sat in her chair and felt thoroughly out of place. She’d been away at boarding school for so long, and then at college, so that she’d never really integrated into Athens society. Her mouth twisted. Well, not the way Leo believed, anyway. Despite that, she did know people in the room, and she saw their looks and their whispering and she hated that it affected her. She’d gone to the bathroom earlier, and heard two women talking by the sinks.

  ‘Can you believe he came with her?’

  ‘I know. I mean, no one would be surprised if he crossed to the other side of the street to ignore her and that awful family after what they did…’

  The other woman had laughed nastily. ‘Can’t you just imagine her buffoon of a father’s face if he saw them together? I wouldn’t be surprised if Leo Parnassus is only taking her as some sort of revenge. He’s practically ignored her all evening…’

  The other woman had sighed lustily then, and said, ‘I wouldn’t mind him taking me for revenge… Obviously he sees something in her too-innocent-to-be-true face.’

  The stinging words came back to Angel now, and she held her head up high and gritted her teeth. This was all part of Leo’s plan. Ritual humiliation.

  Just then Angel saw Lucy Levakis return to the table where they’d been seated. She was the English wife of Aristotle Levakis, Leo’s business partner, and the only person who’d been genuinely sweet to Angel—no doubt because she didn’t know of the history. Ari Levakis, though, had been sending her dark speculative looks all night, clearly of the same mind as Leo, and suspicious of her motives. After all, he’d been one of the people she’d recognised at that party in the villa all those weeks ago. Angel felt sick. Did he know about Leo’s revenge?

  Lucy sat down and said chattily, ‘You looked lonely over here, so I thought I’d come and join you. Honestly, men—they get so wrapped up in themselves.’

  Angel smiled tightly. She didn’t want to taint this nice woman with her dubious reputation. ‘Really, I don’t mind if you want to go back. I’m fine here.’

  Lucy shook her head, and just then Angel noticed something and felt her heart lift for the first time in days. She’d obviously not noticed before, too preoccupied with everything. She sat forward and asked shyly, ‘That necklace you’re wearing, where did you get it?’

  Lucy beamed and told Angel all about how Ari had known how much she loved it and had proposed to her with it. ‘To this day I don’t own an engagement ring.’ She touched the necklace reverently. ‘This is my engagement ring.’

  Angel smiled, blushing with pride. ‘I designed that necklace.’

  Lucy gasped. ‘You what?’

  Angel nodded. ‘I did jewellery design at college, and that was the only piece I sold from my graduation show. I gave the rest of the collection to my sister and some friends as gifts.’

  Lucy gasped again, ‘But you could have made a fortune!’

  Angel was aware of the irony. It had been shortly after her graduating that their personal circumstances had changed so dramatically. She hadn’t known that she’d have to turn her back on her dream profession so soon, otherwise she might have kept her collection intact. She smiled now, ruefully. ‘I preferred to give it away.’

  Lucy said something incoherent, and before she knew it Angel’s hand had been grabbed and she was being dragged in the taller woman’s wake over to the men. She tried to remonstrate with her but to no avail.

  Angel heard her interrupt them excitedly and explain what Angel had just revealed. Angel looked up to see Ari’s very speculative gaze and then, gulping, looked at Leo. His eyes showed no emotion. No doubt he thought she might be lying. Lucy gave a groan then, when she realised the time, and said she’d have to go home to relieve their nanny. Angel had learned that they had two small children.

  Her heart clenched when she saw Ari’s attention go back to his wife and he pulled her close, making his excuses too, despite Lucy’s insistence that he stay. Clearly the man couldn’t wait to be alone with his wife, and Angel’s heart clenched even harder.

  They made their goodbyes, Lucy still excited to have discovered Angel’s secret, and then they were gone. Angel expected Leo to make an excuse and leave her alone again, and she had even started
walking back to the table when Leo caught her hand and pulled her back.

  She looked up at him.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

  ‘I…’ Angel faltered, and cursed herself for being so weak. She felt a fire of rebellion start to build. ‘I was going back to the table to sit alone again, so that everyone can see how you ignore me. But actually, now that the speeches are over, the dais is so much more public. Why don’t I just go up and sit there? I could even put a sign around my neck if you wish—’

  ‘Stop it.’

  Angel couldn’t, too hurt. ‘Why, Leo? Isn’t this exactly what you planned? A round of public appearances with your mistress of revenge, making it perfectly obvious that your only interest in me is completely superficial? Making sure there is maximum speculation, maximum humiliation?’

  Angel bit her lip. The words had spilled out before she could stop them. ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, the gossip in the powder room is already rife, and let’s just say I don’t come off well.’

  Leo frowned. ‘What did you hear?’

  Angel shook her head, aghast at having revealed so much. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  Because the awful thing was, he might be humiliating her in public, but he’d be taking her to bed at night, and once in his bed the last thing she felt was humiliated.

  Leo opened his mouth to speak, but just then someone came to interrupt them. Much to Angel’s surprise, he didn’t let go of her hand; he kept her close, introducing her to the other man. And, while he didn’t go out of his way to include her in the conversation, he didn’t let her out of his sight for the rest of the evening, making Angel’s emotions see-saw even more.

  In the car on the way home, Angel rotated her head to try and ease out the kinks. She was exhausted.

  ‘Did you really design Lucy’s necklace?’

  Angel stopped rotating her head and looked at Leo warily. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. What would be the point?’

  Her simple assertion struck him somewhere deep. Leo just looked at her for a long moment. ‘It’s a beautiful piece.’

  Angel shrugged awkwardly. He sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t meant to give her a compliment. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You haven’t been making jewellery since you left college because…?’

  Angel jumped in. This was a very tender point for her. ‘I haven’t been making jewellery because I don’t have the facilities.’

  Leo shook his head. ‘But you’ve been working, surely it’s possible to rent a workspace?’

  ‘The equipment and the raw materials I need are too expensive.’

  Leo sat back. ‘You must really resent having had to resort to menial work.’

  Angel blinked. In that moment she realised that she’d never resented having to work; she’d only missed the fact that she’d had to put off her dream. It had been very simple: she’d had to be there for Delphi. Necessitating that they stay at home to cut down on living costs. She shook her head. ‘I had no choice.’

  Leo found himself wondering uncomfortably why Angel hadn’t just resorted to hanging out on the vibrant Athenian social scene in order to try and seduce a rich husband from her own social sphere. Evidently her sister had done just that… But then just as quickly he found himself quashing the curiosity when he found it inevitably led to wondering how she’d remained a virgin. A virgin didn’t go out to seduce rich husbands.

  She wasn’t a virgin any more; she was his. Something deeply primitive and possessive moved through him. Ruthlessly he pulled Angel over until she sat in his lap. She resisted him, but he caressed her back through the flimsy silk. He’d seen her sitting alone at their dinner table earlier, and had had to restrain himself from going over and claiming her. The only thing that had stopped him had been the weakness he’d felt that would show, especially when Ari Levakis had been quizzing him as to why on earth he’d taken her as his mistress. So he’d let her sit there, but had been burningly aware of her every second, of the proud way she’d held her head—defiant, almost.

  It hadn’t sat well with him, and when Angel had said those things to him he’d felt shame clawing upwards. Not an emotion he was used to when it came to women.

  No matter why he was with Angel, he’d had no conscious intention of ignoring her in public. His plan had been humiliation, yes, but that would come when he had had enough of her and ejected her from his life, making it very clear she’d been just a temporary addition. It would come from knowing that Tito Kassianides would be confronted with pictures splashed all over the tabloids tomorrow of his daughter in bed with the enemy.

  In truth, he’d been shocked to hear her say that she’d already been the subject of gossip; clearly Athens was in a league with New York and its wildfire gossip circuit.

  Angel still resisted him on his lap, looking resolutely out of the window. He stroked her back and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her arm. He felt the first tiny signs of her relaxing and smiled. His caressing hand pulled her in closer, until she fell against him, yet still she was tense. His other hand rested on her thigh and then started to move to where her legs were pressed tightly together.

  With gentle force he pressed his hand against her mons. He could feel heat coming through the silk, and the inevitable hardening of his own arousal. He moved subtly and heard Angel’s indrawn breath as she felt him push against the thin barrier of her dress, against the globes of her bottom.

  He reached up and pulled her chin around to face him. He didn’t like the look in her eyes: it was too naked. Too full of things he didn’t want to know. So he pulled her head down and kissed her, hard, and with a deep groan of triumph felt her sink into him completely, her lithe body pressing into his, enflaming him so much that by the time they reached the villa he was aching to bury himself inside her.

  By the end of that first week the whole world knew that Leo Parnassus had taken Angel as his mistress. Paparazzi were camped at the gates to the villa. Every night they’d gone out, either to a function or just for dinner, and the response had been a growing hysteria.

  Headlines screamed out of newsstands: ‘Parnassus and Kassianides bury seventy years of enmity between the sheets.’ And other headlines, more snide, with suggestions of Leo Parnassus being paid in kind. It was awful. It was exactly what Leo had planned.

  One morning, when Angel had gone down to breakfast and had been surprised to see Leo there, she’d asked nervously, ‘What about your father—won’t this hurt him?’

  Leo had looked at her sharply, and then with a hard look had said, ‘My father is aware of the situation, but he has no say in who I choose as my lover.’

  Angel had swallowed nervously, unaccountably concerned for the much elder man she could remember seeing at the party in the villa; he’d looked so frail. ‘But still, it can’t be easy, when he’s spent his whole life wanting to avenge his family name.’

  Leo had just replied with silken emphasis, ‘Which is exactly what I’m doing. My father, above all things, is a strategist. If he knew for a second what you’d done, what a threat you are, he would endorse my methods wholeheartedly.’

  Angel had still felt miserable to think of how his father might be feeling, and had been reminded again that whenever Leo spoke of him it was clear that little love was lost.

  And then Leo had asked casually, ‘Have you spoken to your father yet?’

  Angel had blanched and shaken her head. She knew from Delphi that her father was home and in a near constant state of violent inebriation, cursing her volubly. His trip to London had been spectacularly unsuccessful. Angel knew a lot of his bluster was just that. And she wasn’t scared for Delphi’s safety. Her father had only ever lashed out at her, Angel, with his fists, in those moments when she reminded him too much of her mother.

  She’d shaken her head again. ‘No, we haven’t spoken.’ Angel sent up a silent prayer. At least when Delphi was married she’d be moving in with Stavros and Angel would be free to live elsewhere. And
lick her wounds from the fall-out of her association with Leo.

  Leo had looked suspicious. Angel had done her best to ignore him.

  Now, Angel sighed as she looked in the full-length mirror of her dressing room. She was tired. And she had to admit that she was still shell-shocked. She felt as though from the moment she’d met Leo again, that fateful night in the study, she’d not had a chance to draw breath.

  He consumed her utterly. In the nights he taught her body how it could respond so powerfully to his; but she was still shy, still mortified at her reaction to him. And her days were filled with vivid flashbacks to moments that took her breath away, making her body heat up and melt all over again.

  She quite literally could not remember what it had been like not to know this man, not to know his hard features, the faint line of the scar above his mouth which still tantalised her.

  She tried to clear her mind of him and twisted in front of the mirror. The dress she wore was the most daring one yet. It was strapless and mostly gold, ending a few inches above her knees, where the gold tapered off into silver. Her waist was cinched in with a gold belt, and gold hoop earrings and strappy sandals completed the outfit.

  Something defiant had made her pick it out of the myriad clothes that now filled the walk-in closet, along with a glittering array of stunning jewellery. When she’d seen the jewellery her heart had twisted. How she longed to make her own again. She’d always found the designs of others too garish for her tastes, preferring delicate chains and subtle designs. Like Lucy’s butterfly necklace.

  She heard a sound, and whirled around to see Leo, leaning nonchalantly against her door, already dressed and ready to go. She felt vulnerable at having been observed. This was how it seemed to be going. He’d be gone every day to work when she awoke, her body heavy after the rigours of a long night of lovemaking. Then he’d come home and get ready, only coming to fetch her when she too was ready. Minimal conversation. Minimal emotional involvement.