Exotic Nights: The Virgin’s SecretThe Devil’s HeartPleasured in the Playboy’s Penthouse Page 5

  With a husky whisper she entreated him, hardly knowing what she was looking for. ‘Leo …’

  Everything went very still. But Angel hardly even noticed until, with sudden ruthlessness that almost bordered on cruelty, Leo stopped what he was doing and thrust her back from him with two hands on her shoulders.

  For a long moment Angel stood in shock, breathing swiftly as the earth righted itself again. Her heart thumped painfully and a light sweat had broken out all over her body. He rearranged her top and bra so she was covered again, with an abruptness that made Angel wince. The material chafed against her still sensitive nipple.

  She just couldn’t believe— Her thoughts ground to a halt when she realised her hands were glued to his chest, fingers curled and clinging to the material of his shirt. Hurriedly she dropped them as though burnt. Angel also realised then that her legs were incapable of holding her up, and she nearly collapsed in a humiliating heap at Leo’s feet before he cursed and picked her up, bringing her back over to the chair and sitting her down.

  Angel let her hair fall around her face. She couldn’t find a word to articulate how awfully raw and exposed she felt. Leo had set out to humiliate her and it had taken a nanosecond before she’d turned into a groaning wanton in his arms. How he must be laughing at her. He’d accused her of stealing just seconds before he’d kissed her, and she’d all but lain down and given herself to him.

  Her cheeks burned so hot they felt on fire. She could remember the way she’d said Leo, breathlessly, huskily, just as her whole body had been about to tip over the edge into an experience she’d never had, an experience that her jangling nerves craved to know even now. She’d thought she’d been in love with her boyfriend at college, and he hadn’t even managed— She gulped. Yet here, with someone who clearly despised her … Mortification twisted her insides into hard knots.

  ‘Angel—’

  His voice was suddenly too close, and Angel jumped up in a reflexive surge of horrified anger at how she’d reacted. Too late she saw that Leo had been holding out a glass of what looked like brandy, and she could only watch dumbly as it was knocked out of his hand with the force of her jerky movement, spinning away to crash into the corner of the room, glass shattering, alcohol staining the parquet floor.

  She looked at Leo in shock. ‘I’m so—’

  He cut her off, his face all sharp angles and forbidding lines. Jaw tense. ‘You could have just refused, Angel. There was two of us involved in what happened just now, so don’t try the outraged virgin act.’

  If only he knew! His words fell like tiny cuts all over her skin. Angel quivered with a rush of contradicting and mixed emotions. Right then she was glad the glass had smashed, and yet she also wanted to rush to clean it up. She wanted to smack Leo across the face, when she’d never hit a soul in her life, but she also wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him to kiss her again. Her body still tingled and burned.

  She made a monumental struggle and tipped up her chin. ‘I didn’t see the glass. I’m sorry.’

  His eyes flashed in response. In a bid to put space between them Angel went on jelly legs to where the glass had smashed and started to pick up the bigger pieces. She heard something inarticulate behind her, and gasped as she was pulled up, a hand under her arm.

  ‘Leave it. I’ll get someone to look after it.’

  They were very close again, and all of Angel’s recent humiliation rushed back. Something caught Leo’s eye and he looked down at her hands, saying harshly, ‘You’re bleeding.’

  Angel looked down stupidly. She hadn’t felt a thing, but saw that her finger was bleeding from a nasty-looking gash. Leo expertly took the glass out of her hands and put it on the table behind them. Then, holding that hand carefully in his, he picked up the phone, dialled a number and bit out terse instructions in accentless Greek.

  Angel would have been impressed if she’d been able to think clearly. All she could do was follow Leo when he led her from the room and up the main staircase, her hand held in front of him so she had to hurry to keep up with his much longer strides.

  He brought her into a huge bathroom, switched on the light, and rummaged around for something in a cupboard. Angel could see that it was a first aid kit, and blustered, ‘Oh, no, don’t. Let me—’

  ‘Sit down and be quiet.’

  Angel was forced to sit down on the closed toilet seat, and she watched incredulously as Leo knelt before her and inspected the cut. And then he brought her finger to his mouth and sucked it deeply.

  Angel’s breath stopped. She tried to pull back, but he was too strong. Finally he let her finger go and said tersely, while inspecting it again, ‘I want to make sure there’s no glass in it. It’s a deep cut, but I don’t think you need stitches.’

  Thoroughly bemused, and feeling as if reality as she knew it had morphed out of all existence, Angel watched as Leo expertly and gently cleaned the cut and placed a tight plaster around the top of her finger.

  Then, just as perfunctorily, he led the way back downstairs, this time into a drawing room adjacent to the other side of the hall. She saw someone scurrying out of the study with a dustpan and brush. Leo let go of her hand and Angel scooted over beside a couch, sitting gingerly on the edge because she didn’t think she could stand.

  Leo poured a measure of something dark and golden—like his eyes—into a glass and brought it over. His mouth was set in a grim line. Angel accepted it with both hands, while avoiding his eyes. She didn’t drink much alcohol at all, but right now she welcomed the prospect of its numbing quality.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LEO watched Angel take the glass in both hands, a curiously child-like gesture that made something in his chest twist. He wanted to wring her pretty neck. But he also wanted to flatten her back against the couch and finish what they’d started in the study. He could still remember how it had felt to roll his tongue over her small tight nipple, the way she’d arched into him, and he had to use iron will right now to control the rush of response.

  He had not meant to ravish Angel standing in the study like that. The impulse to kiss her had been born out of his inarticulate rage that she had such a visceral effect on him, especially when he knew exactly who and what she was. But the kiss had got out of control very quickly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so consumed, to the extent that he’d shut out every clamouring voice in his head. Until she’d said Leo with that husky catch, and her hips had jerked against his hand, and he’d emerged from what had felt like a trance.

  He’d touched down in Athens barely three hours ago and was still reeling slightly at facing the reality that he’d willingly upended his life. Feeling acutely vulnerable again, Leo turned and strode back to the sideboard, to pour himself a drink and try and gather his scattered thoughts. They’d scattered as soon as he’d taken the call from the security guard and seen who was at the gate. For a disturbing second he’d almost believed he was imagining her.

  And yet he couldn’t deny that he’d felt a rush of pure sensual excitement at seeing Angel approaching the house. It had eclipsed the disappointment he’d felt that her effect on him hadn’t grown less in the interim.

  Her guilt had been obvious from the moment she’d gone straight to the kitchen entrance rather than come to the main door. And then, when he’d seen her creeping through the house like the little thief she was, something hard had solidified in his chest.

  He hated to admit it but he had thought that perhaps he’d judged her too swiftly. Seeing the evidence of her avarice in front of his eyes tonight had made a fool of him again. She was no innocent. Hadn’t years of witnessing hardened New York socialites in action taught him anything?

  As he poured himself a drink now, and threw it back in one gulp, he told himself that his decision to come home and the speed with which it had been expedited had absolutely nothing to do with the woman sitting on the couch behind him. He knew exactly how he was going to deal with her and get her out of his system, so that he could get
on with his new life here in Athens.

  Angel sat on the couch, cradling her glass, and felt as if she was waiting to hear a sentence pronounced. Leo kept his broad back turned to her for long moments, and the tension in her body was beginning to ratchet up, despite the calming effects of the alcohol.

  Eventually he turned around, and Angel almost breathed a sigh of relief. Leo’s face was stark, unreadable. Not once had he cracked a smile, shown a glimmer of humanity … apart from when he’d tended her cut. Angel remembered the way he’d sucked her finger into his mouth and quivered deep in her belly.

  She swallowed. She thought of how his lazy, easy American accent had made her assume he was just one of the guests at the villa that night … She’d never have suspected she’d ever hear the steel running underneath the velvet caress of that voice. But he was Leonidas Parnassus. Practically the uncrowned King of Athens. And she was his bitter enemy. Even more so now.

  There was a final reckoning to be had between their families, and Angel was very afraid this was going to be it. She tried to force the fear down—after all, what else could happen to them now? She thought of Delphi then, and felt slightly sick.

  Leo came over and took a seat on the couch opposite Angel. He sat back and crossed one ankle over one knee. He spread a hand out across the back of the seat, making the material of his shirt stretch enticingly across his chest. It was a dominantly masculine pose. Angel could feel her face heat up and willed it down.

  ‘Why did you come here the night of the party?’

  Angel couldn’t believe it. Weariness tinged her voice. ‘I already told you. I had no idea where we were headed. I couldn’t have just walked out; I would have lost my job on the spot.’

  ‘But you lost that job anyway,’ he pointed out silkily.

  Angel held in a gasp. How did he know that? Not that it would have taken a rocket scientist to deduce that her behaviour that night might result in that. Did he know that she’d been working as a chambermaid in the plush Grand Bretagne Hotel since then, and was doing regular double shifts? No doubt he’d love to know that she’d felt compelled to find jobs in areas where her name would require the minimum amount of investigation. She’d been conscious of Delphi still being in college, and had not wanted to draw any potential press attention by going for something more high-profile, only to get knocked back because of their name. Humiliation was becoming annoyingly familiar in this man’s presence.

  Leo took a sip of the drink he’d carried over. ‘My picture was splashed all over the papers here the week I arrived. Your father has been scrabbling around like a rat in a sinking ship looking for someone to rescue him—and you expect me to believe that you saw me at the pool-side that night and had no idea who I was?’

  She shook her head. She truly hadn’t known, having instinctively shied away from reading anything about the Parnassus family and their triumphant return. It had been too close to the bone on so many different levels. Also, she’d been preoccupied with her sister’s news.

  Angel sat forward, hands clenched around the glass. From somewhere deep and protecting came a dart of anger at his high-handed arrogance, at how threatened he made her feel. ‘Believe it or not, I had no idea. Aren’t you satisfied that your family has done its level best to ruin mine?’

  Leo let out a short, sharp laugh, making Angel flinch. ‘I fail to see where the satisfaction comes when it’s clear, based on the evidence tonight—which, I might add, is recorded on CCTV—that you are intent on re-igniting this feud. No doubt you have something to gain from it—most people would have moved on from the drama of the Parnassus family coming home.’

  He sat forward then too, his eyes flashing sparks. Angel wanted to cower back, but held strong and cursed herself for provoking him. For a moment she’d forgotten all about why she was here in the first place. He scrambled her brain that much.

  His tone was withering. ‘And do you really want to play the game of apportioning blame?’

  Angel felt something cold trickle down her spine when Leo’s eyes turned dark and deadly.

  ‘We have done nothing to affect your family directly. Your father’s greed and ineptitude has seen to the demise of the Kassianides shipping fleet. All we had to do was merge with Levakis Enterprises, and that in itself highlighted the inherent weakness of your father’s position.’

  Angel swallowed. Everything he said was true. She couldn’t really blame him or his father for having done anything concrete. Her father had done it all by himself.

  ‘However,’ Leo continued, sitting back like a lord surveying his subject, ‘it leaves me with an interesting dilemma.’

  Angel said nothing. She’d no doubt that Leo was about to enlighten her.

  ‘While we’ve managed to get our due revenge in seeing the Kassianides fortune reduced to nothing, lower than even we were ourselves seventy years ago, I must admit that it feels somehow … empty. Since seeing the extent of your sheer boldness, I find myself desiring something of a more … tangible nature.’

  Panic struck Angel. She felt as if an invisible noose was tightening around her neck. Desperation tinged her voice. ‘I’d call going bankrupt pretty tangible.’

  Leo leant forward again, utterly cold, utterly ruthless. ‘The bankruptcy is for your father, not you. No, I’m talking about something as tangible as my great-uncle being accused of raping and then murdering a pregnant woman from one of the wealthiest families in Athens. As tangible as an entire family forced into exile from their homeland because of the threat of a criminal investigation they couldn’t afford, and the possibility of my great-uncle facing the death penalty. Not to mention the scandal that would linger for years.’

  ‘Stop,’ begged Angel weakly. She knew the story and it always sickened her.

  But he didn’t. Leo just looked at her. ‘Did you know that my great-uncle never got over the slur of being accused of that murder and eventually killed himself?’

  Angel shook her head. She felt sick. This went far deeper than she’d ever imagined. ‘I didn’t know.’

  ‘My great-uncle loved your great-aunt.’ Leo’s mouth twisted. ‘More fool him. And because your family couldn’t bear to see one of their own darlings slum it with a mere ship worker, they did their best to thwart the romance.’

  ‘I know what happened,’ Angel said quietly, her insides roiling.

  Leo laughed harshly, ‘Yes, everyone does now—thanks to a drunken old fool who couldn’t live with the guilt any more, because he’d been the one who committed the crime and covered it up, had it paid for by your great-grandfather.’

  Her own family had murdered one of their own and covered it up like cowards.

  Angel forced herself to meet the censure in Leo’s eyes even though she wanted to curl up with the shame. ‘I’m not to blame for what they did.’

  ‘Neither am I. Yet I paid for it all my life, I was born on another continent, into a community in exile, learning English as my first language when it should have been Greek. I saw my grandmother wither away a little more each year, knowing that she’d never return to her home.’

  Angel wanted to beg him to stop, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  Leo wasn’t finished. ‘My father was so consumed it cost us our relationship. And it cost him his first wife. I grew up too fast and too young, aware of a terrible sense of injustice and a need to put things right. So while you were going to school, making friends, living your life here in your home, I was on the other side of the world, wondering how things might have been if my father and grandmother hadn’t been forced out of their own country. Wondering if I might then have had a father who was present, not absent. Wondering what we had done to deserve this awful slur on our name. Do you have any idea what it’s like to grow up being reminded that you don’t belong somewhere every single day by your own family? Like you’ve no right to put down roots?’

  Angel shook her head. She didn’t think he’d appreciate hearing about how lonely she’d felt when her father had sent her to a rem
ote and ultra-conservative catholic boarding school in the wilds of the west of Ireland. Somehow she didn’t think that even the worst of her experiences there would come close to what Leo had described.

  She felt hollow inside. ‘Please, will you just tell me what it is you want or let me go?’

  Leo sat forward, elbows on his knees, glass held casually between long fingers. Supremely at ease, as if he hadn’t just related what he had.

  ‘It’s quite simple, really. I wanted you the moment I saw you, and I want you now.’ His lip curled. ‘Despite knowing who you are.’

  Angel could feel her mouth opening and closing like an ineffectual fish. ‘You don’t. You can’t.’

  In a flooding of panic, Angel stood up. She carefully placed the glass down on a nearby table and hoped Leo wouldn’t notice how badly her hand was trembling.

  Leo stood too, and they faced each other across the expanse of a few feet.

  ‘Sit down, Angel, we’re not finished yet.’

  Angel shook her head mutely, feeling the world start to constrict around her. Leo shrugged as if he didn’t care. She tried desperately to block out the way he looked so intimidatingly huge opposite her.

  ‘You’re going to pay me back for everything you’ve done to me, and you will do it in my bed. As my mistress.’

  Angel nearly burst out laughing, the need to release some of her pent-up panic almost emerging as hysteria. It faded, though, when she saw the look on his face. Her belly quivered.

  ‘You’re serious.’

  ‘Of course I’m serious. I don’t joke about things like this.’

  A pulse beat in his jaw, making Angel’s belly clench.

  ‘Do you think I’m so naive as to assume your father is just going to roll over and take what’s coming to him? I want you, and I want to keep you close, where I can see you—away from your father and his machinations. If that heat between us is anything to go by, I don’t imagine it’ll be unpleasant for either of us.’