Mediterranean Seduction
The series of verbal blows left Charlotte dumbstruck. ‘If I had any idea what you were talking about,’ she said at last, hoarsely, ‘then perhaps I could defend myself.’
‘Try this,’ Iannis said coldly, holding some crumpled sheets of paper up in front of her.
Taking them from him, Charlotte blenched as she read the notes for her article. ‘These are just some notes I made for an article I’m writing—a draft—’
‘A draft?’ he said derisively. ‘So you didn’t finish it?’
His face told her he already knew the answer to that.
‘So?’ he said when she remained silent. ‘You don’t even bother to deny it?’
Of all the emotions washing over her, it was guilt that made Charlotte feel the most wretched. ‘Perhaps I should have discussed it with you first—’
‘Perhaps?’ Iannis echoed incredulously. ‘And now?’
‘I wrote it, and I stand by it,’ Charlotte said. Her voice was soft and steady.
The laugh Iannis gave was short and contemptuous. ‘And how much money will this little effort make you?’
Was money all he cared about?
‘I said,’ Iannis repeated, and his voice was tight with fury, ‘how much do you hope to make from this, Charlotte? Enough to make you feel better when you realise how much damage you’ve done to me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Charlotte protested. ‘This won’t damage you, Iannis. It will make people sit up and wonder where their own lives are going wrong. You’ve got it all—can’t you see that?’
He laughed in her face, and then shook his head. ‘You really don’t understand anything, do you, Charlotte? You just don’t know what you’ve done.’
‘Of course I know what I’ve done,’ Charlotte said, defending herself fiercely. ‘Looking for stories like this one is what I do every day of my working life—’
‘I bet it is,’ Iannis snarled. ‘Go on.’
He made Charlotte feel as if she was standing on a cliff-edge and he was about to push her off. ‘I have written an article,’ she said, ‘and it’s a good one, according to my editor—for which I will be paid enough to cover my bills back home.’
‘And that’s it?’ Iannis challenged derisively. ‘What about the worldwide rights?’
‘Worldwide what?’ Charlotte cut in incredulously.
‘You heard me,’ Iannis said, picking up her camera again. ‘And don’t let’s forget the photographs.’
‘The photographs will add colour to the article,’ Charlotte pointed out distractedly, while her mind whirled with possibilities. What was he thinking? What was he getting at?
‘I can just imagine—’
‘Don’t tell me you’re superstitious?’ she broke in suddenly, as realisation dawned. Remembering Marianna’s warning not to take photographs at the taverna, she knew it had to be that. ‘If you’re offended because I took a photograph—’
‘Offended? Superstitious?’ Iannis repeated incredulously. ‘Do you think we live in the Dark Ages on Iskos?’ When Charlotte only stared blankly at him he added icily, ‘You patronising woman. How dare you insult me and my kinsmen in such a manner?’ And with a sharp gesture he flung the printed sheets at her.
Charlotte made no move to retrieve them from the floor.
‘Where’s the rest of the article?’ Iannis demanded, staring at her coldly. ‘Let me have it now.’
‘On the kitchen table,’ Charlotte said evenly. ‘Why don’t you take it with you, Iannis? Perhaps when you’ve read the finished article you might feel like making me an apology.’
Iannis narrowed his eyes and looked at her as if she had gone quite mad. Shaking his head, he said coldly, ‘I shall take it away with me—but only so that it can be checked against the published version.’
‘Do as you please,’ Charlotte said, meeting his gaze steadily. ‘I should have told you from the outset that I was writing an article around you and what I believed about your lifestyle—this island.’ She held her arms wide and shook her head in frustration at his inability to accept her explanation. ‘Don’t you understand, Iannis? It was an ideal that captured my heart, my imagination. You remain anonymous all the way through. The fisherman of Iskos is never named—’
He cut her off with a sharp sound of derision. ‘If you believe that, you are more of a fool than I took you for. You claim to be a journalist—’ He put up his hand to silence her when she tried to interrupt. ‘By your own admission you work for a magazine.’
‘Yes—yes, I do.’
‘Then you can hardly claim to be ignorant of the term paparazzi.’
‘Paparazzi!’ Charlotte’s short laugh touched on hysteria and she raked stiff fingers through her hair. Wheeling away from him, she struggled to make some sense of his accusation.
‘Don’t pretend innocence now,’ Iannis warned. ‘You are in far too deep.’
‘I am in too deep,’ Charlotte agreed, hearing her voice break as she whirled around to face him. ‘And you’re quite right—it does show what a fool I’ve been. But let me put your mind at rest, Iannis. I am a bona fide journalist. I am not a member of the paparazzi, nor have I ever been one. I can assure you of that. How dare you accuse me of such a thing? Take my article,’ she said, thrusting it towards him. ‘Show it to anyone you choose. But why don’t you read it yourself first? Really read it. Then perhaps you will see how much I admire you. And when you have read it—if you can understand anything I have written—then perhaps you’ll regret what you’ve done here. Or maybe not—maybe you’re just not capable of feeling anything at all. Now, get out! Get out!’ she repeated furiously when he just stood looking at her.
She had no intention whatsoever of letting him see her cry.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IANNIS poured himself another beer, and then sat down again at the small dining table in the cottage. After the worst day of his life—a day he had spent doing all the normal things he’d promised himself he would get through before reading anything she had written—he had been up all night with the pages of Charlotte’s article spread out in front of him. His mobile phone was by his side, the number already keyed in, but he couldn’t bring himself to ring—not yet. Not until he had read every word she had written once more, and slowly this time. He owed Charlotte that much before he set the wheels in motion to bring her whole world crashing down around her ears.
It was almost dawn. Charlotte knew that because she could hear the first bird singing outside her bedroom window. Soon it would be light—the strange lemon-tinted light that always heralded a new day on Iskos. She buried her head into the pillows, wishing the night could last for ever. But it wouldn’t, and Charlotte tossed the thought away as her survival instinct kicked in.
She had to look on the bright side: with no distractions she could polish the article, tidy the villa and pack. What had happened the day before seemed like a bad dream now—a nightmare. But if she was in over her head with Iannis Kiriakos she had no one to blame but herself.
In over her head? Charlotte padded across the cool tiled floor to open the shutters, knowing without any doubt at all that she was in love with Iannis. What was the use in pretending? Leaning out of the window, she gave a wry grimace. Irony had triumphed in the end. She had been so busy wondering whether she could adapt to a simpler life—his pride was something she had never even considered.
She frowned, remembering how Iannis seemed to imagine everyone would ridicule him for choosing to live a simple life, and drew a shuddering breath to think how mistaken he was. ‘They…would…envy…you!’ she called to the empty seashore. But only silence came back at her—the same silence Charlotte knew would be hers until she left Iskos for good.
Iannis glanced at his wrist-watch, as he had been doing every few minutes for the past hour. It was just after five. Charlotte would be asleep, but how much longer could he wait?
He had combed her article meticulously throughout the night, looking for any hint of sensationalism or ridicule, but had come to the same conclusion every time. She had written a love story with the simple fisherman of Iskos at its heart. Far from the exposé he had feared, Charlotte had taken a tender and sometimes whimsical look at his life—and her view of it, had it been only half true, would have meant he was indeed the happiest and most fortunate of men. But it was flimflam—nothing more than the wishful thinking of an impressionable young woman.
Harsh reality would intrude soon enough, he realised bitterly. After a shower and a change of clothes he would go up to the villa to see her—have it out with her, explain why the article had to be pulled. Then at least his conscience would be clear.
But as he picked up the small film card and turned it over in his hand a spear of doubt entered his mind. Maybe she had only intended to use the photographs for the article —but how could he be sure? And could he afford to take that risk? Words could be dealt with—withdrawn before the magazine went to print, discredited by dismissing them as gutter-press drivel. But photographs were impossible to refute, and could be sold on to others with a very different agenda. They supplied hard evidence that even he would find impossible to deny. Experience proved photographs could be flashed around the world at the click of a mouse. How many more cards like this one did she have stashed away?
Trust was the one luxury he could not afford, Iannis thought grimly as he pushed back from the table.
Charlotte was certain Iannis was close by. She knew from the change in the air and from the subtle current that swept through her, leaving her more aware, more alive.
She froze in the middle of sweeping under the bed. There was, of course, nothing to sweep. Marianna had finished work for the week, and always left the villa spotlessly clean, but Charlotte had to do something to fill in the time before she left. It hardly seemed possible that only a day ago she had been trying to hold time at bay. Now she was ticking off the minutes to her departure.
Straightening up, she went across to the window. Iannis was almost at the door, dressed casually in jeans, a shirt and desert boots, his hair still damp from the shower, his face unshaven. There was no time to do anything about her own appearance, Charlotte realised self-consciously, bringing a hand up to smooth her hair. Her feet were bare. She had dressed for cleaning—nothing more.
She saw the manuscript in his hand, as well as the film card. He had come to apologise! A bubble of anticipation formed inside her, only to burst when she opened the door and saw the expression on his face.
‘May I come in?’
Charlotte felt a chill sweep over her as she moved aside to let him pass.
He walked straight into the kitchen and, moving aside the bowl of fresh flowers she had put there, left the article next to her laptop. Swinging around, he showed her the film card in the palm of his hand.
‘Thank you for returning—’
‘Are there any more of these?’ he demanded coldly.
‘I’m sorry—?’
‘You will be, if you’re hiding any more.’
Before she could stop him he went over to the kitchen drawers and started dragging them open.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Charlotte exclaimed angrily. ‘Stop that right now!’ Storming across the room, she slammed the drawers shut again. ‘I thought you had come to apologise,’ she cried in an agony of hurt and bewilderment. ‘I should have known better!’
‘Get out of my way!’ Iannis warned softly.
‘If you want to search this house you’ll have to get past me first.’
Iannis didn’t doubt it for a moment. He wondered if he had ever seen a woman looking so furious—or so desirable. He scowled in exasperation at the turn his thoughts were taking.
‘Nothing to say, Iannis?’ Charlotte demanded coldly. ‘Then may I suggest you get out of my house?’ With movements so jerky she felt like a marionette, Charlotte forced herself to walk across the room and take up position by the door.
‘Sit down, please,’ Iannis said with unconcern, holding out a chair for her. ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘I don’t think we’ve got anything left to say to each other.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ He sprang up and came to take hold of her arm.
‘If you’re trying to intimidate me,’ Charlotte flared, staring up into his face, ‘you’ve picked the wrong woman.’
‘And you picked the wrong man to involve in your little scheme,’ he informed her scathingly, guiding her to a chair.
‘Little scheme?’ Charlotte’s brow pleated in bewilderment, and she sat rigid with shock to confront him.
‘You made the wrong choice, selecting me as your victim,’ Iannis explained, holding her gaze steadily.
‘My victim?’ Charlotte’s mind raced. The article had been little short of a paean of praise to him. How could he possibly take offence at anything she had written?
As if reading her thoughts, Iannis picked up the top sheet of her article. ‘Life styles; life choices—’ He stopped reading after the title, waiting to see how she would react. ‘By Charlotte Clare.’
Charlotte shook her head, completely mystified. ‘But if you’ve read the article then you know—’
‘Know what?’ Iannis demanded in a dangerously low voice. ‘Know that you intended to expose me? Know that you intended to make money out of me? Yes, I am aware of all those things.’ He sat back and viewed Charlotte coldly. ‘The question is—what am I going to do about it—about you?’
‘You don’t have to do anything,’ Charlotte protested heatedly. ‘If you have read the article you know how positive—’
He cut in with a short, scathing laugh. ‘You don’t even bother to deny it!’
‘Why should I?’ Charlotte demanded in bewilderment. ‘I have done nothing wrong. Perhaps I should have squared it with you first, but—’
His sound of contempt cut her off. ‘Yes, perhaps you should,’ Iannis remarked bitterly.
‘I only featured you at all because—’
‘I am the type of individual that paparazzi feed off?’ Iannis cut in harshly. He was taken aback by the look of surprise on Charlotte’s face.
‘Paparazzi?’ she echoed. ‘Not that again!’
Iannis sliced a hand through the air to cut her off. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
‘You’re way off track, Iannis,’ Charlotte insisted stubbornly. ‘If I was paparazzi, why on earth would I be interested in—?’ She broke off and paled. ‘Unless…’
‘Unless?’ Iannis echoed harshly.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, as if to protect herself against him, Charlotte felt as if a dam had just burst in her mind. If only she hadn’t been so short-sighted, so obsessed with her article. The moment was like an epiphany. Suddenly she could see the whole picture…all the clues and inconsistencies she had so far chosen to ignore.
Turning around very slowly, she tilted her chin to stare into his eyes. ‘Who are you, Iannis? I already know you’re not Iannis Kiriakos, a simple fisherman of Iskos, so who the hell are you?’
Iannis laughed scornfully as he raked stiff fingers impatiently through his hair. ‘Don’t come the innocent with me, Charlotte. It’s been tried before and it won’t work.’
‘Just answer my question,’ she said calmly.
‘Very well,’ he agreed coldly. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware, my name is Iannis Kiriakos of the Kiriakos shipping line. My business interests span the globe—but I expect you already know that too.’
Charlotte felt as though she might well be sick, or even faint. She could not take it in. He was the Iannis Kiriakos—and she never suspected it. A businessman, yes, she had half expected that…but a tycoon, a billionaire. She froze, and shut her eyes for a moment. And in that instant she knew without a shadow of doubt that she could not have loved Iannis Kiriakos the Greek tycoon any more than she loved Iannis Kiriakos the simple fisherman. But Iannis’s opinion of her was so low she could hardly bear it. As far as he was concerned she was just a cheap gold-digger with no morals at all—a woman who gave her body in the interests of getting a good story and snaring herself a rich man.
She struggled to pay attention as he continued. ‘I like to step off the bandwagon a couple of times each year,’ he said evenly, oblivious to her state of mind, ‘and that is when I come to Iskos, the island of my ancestors.’
His words hummed around Charlotte’s head like an angry swarm of bees.
‘I can see you’re not interested,’ he said accusingly.
‘I am interested,’ Charlotte countered, struggling to find a way out of the black cloud of pain. ‘You say I know all about you, but you’ve just proved that I don’t know anything about you at all. You tell me you’re this man of great wealth and status. Is that supposed to change my opinion of you? Or does it mean that it is you, Iannis, who is ashamed of your heritage? Is that the real reason you choose to punish me now? Has my article uncovered something you are reluctant to share with anyone outside this island? Do you think you might be ridiculed because you find solace and renewal here, living the life of a simple fisherman? Because if you do—’
Her words were too close to the truth, Iannis realised angrily. ‘What do you know about such things?’ he cut in harshly.
‘I know you’re wrong,’ Charlotte said. ‘I know that when people read my article, far from deriding you, they will envy you.’
‘I will not lose this,’ Iannis grated softly, as if to himself. ‘I will not allow you to continue with the publication of your article just to satisfy the gossip-hungry readers of your magazine. Here on Iskos I live as my ancestors lived. I fish as they fished. I eat as they eat.’ And I love as they loved, he thought bitterly. But this he did not say. There was no point in fooling himself, nor in appealing to Charlotte’s better nature. Not when all she was interested in was making money out of him—like all the rest.
‘So, who are you really, Iannis?’ Charlotte pressed gently. ‘Iannis Kiriakos the Greek billionaire, or Iannis the fisherman?’
‘You choose,’ he said abruptly. ‘I despise all titles—though I suspect you have already chosen the one that suits you the best.’
Yes, she had—or thought she had.
‘No?’ Iannis demanded when she didn’t answer. ‘Would you like my help?’ And without waiting for her reply, he grated, ‘How about this one—Iannis Kiriakos, eligible bachelor?’
Charlotte’s face went white as she stared at him. ‘You despicable, arrogant man! Not only do you imagine that I can be bought, but you seem to think that I would sleep with a man in order to trap him into marriage. You are wrong on both counts Mr Kiriakos. I can’t be bought—and I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth. You say I tricked you?’ She gave a sharp, ugly laugh of incredulity. ‘You slept with me, but withheld your true identity. You deceived me, you used me. And now you calmly stand there, daring to suggest that I would sell you out—or, worse, that I choose my partners on the basis of their bank balance.’
‘Partners?’ Iannis roared, surprising himself with the force of his reaction. ‘How many men—?’
Charlotte cut across in a voice of pure steel. ‘Don’t think for one moment I am going to allow you another opportunity to hurt me, Iannis. You have done quite enough just by proving how little you really know me. I thought I had found someone special, someone untouched by all the cynicism and suspicion of the world I left behind when I came to Iskos. But I was just fooling myself, wasn’t I? All you wanted was a trophy to put on your shelf with all the others!’
And who knew better about trophies? Charlotte raged inwardly as her mouth tightened with disdain. ‘You just put on a convenient front to lure me into your bed, Iannis! How many times have you done that before?’
‘How dare you suggest I would stoop so low?’ he accused, coming a menacing step closer.
‘Why shouldn’t I when you treat me like this?’ Charlotte said, not yielding an inch. ‘Or is what I’ve said just too close to the truth for you, Iannis?’
‘I have never lured a woman into my bed—’
‘And how do I know that?’ Charlotte continued relentlessly. ‘Because you tell me so? How can I believe anything you say when by your own admission you have made such a good job of deceiving me? But you needn’t concern yourself any longer with what I might stand to gain from you, Iannis. You can keep your wretched money! I’m not interested in your money, or in anyone else’s money. I am quite capable of supporting myself. And in a few short hours I’ll be out of your life for good. So relax, Iannis. You can keep your precious bank balance intact. And now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a plane to catch.’ When he didn’t move, she added flatly, ‘If I haven’t made myself clear, I’d like you to leave.’
Iannis continued to stare at her, his eyes like twin probes, blazing their way into the very depths of her soul, searching for truth. ‘Not until you give me some assurances.’
‘Assurances?’ Charlotte demanded softly. ‘What more do you want from me, Iannis? You’ve taken everything I’ve got. And you’ve got my film card in your hand. The article? Here—take it.’ Removing the disk from her laptop, she thrust that at him too. ‘I think that’s everything. You can stay, if you want, and watch me erase the master document from my computer—or you can take my word for the fact that I cannot wait to be rid of it. As for the copy I have already mailed to my editor—I will tell her that I wish to have it withdrawn immediately. When I leave Iskos I want nothing to remind me of my time here or anything Greek—especially you.’
‘Unfortunately it’s not that simple,’ he countered coldly.
‘Of course it’s that simple,’ Charlotte insisted.
‘You don’t seem to understand,’ Iannis said evenly, making himself comfortable on the chair. ‘You see, Charlotte, I cannot take the risk that once you leave here you might just go ahead anyway.’
‘I have given you my word.’
‘In this instance that’s not enough, I’m afraid.’
‘You can’t hold me here against my will,’ Charlotte said, pressing her lips together in impotent anger.
Taking his mobile phone out of his back pocket, Iannis keyed in a number, his gaze fixed on her face the whole time.
A chill ran down Charlotte’s spine as she listened as he instructed his lawyers.
‘That was totally unnecessary,’ she said coldly, the moment he cut the line. ‘You’re throwing your money away. I could have done that just by e-mailing my editor—then I would have confirmed everything on Monday, when I return to work.’
‘You may not be at work on Monday,’ Iannis observed. ‘And e-mail is all very well, but I find court orders are always more effective.’
‘So you don’t trust me?’
‘Should I?’ he queried sardonically. ‘Unless this matter is concluded swiftly, and to my complete satisfaction, I will have an impediment of departure placed upon you and you will remain here on Iskos—as my guest.’
‘And that’s supposed to fill me with gratitude?’ Charlotte demanded, her voice dry with shock. ‘It sounds as if you mean to take me hostage.’
‘Please spare me the amateur dramatics,’ Iannis said coldly, ‘and do not credit me with your own flair for invention. I am merely offering you an extended stay as my guest, incurring no extra cost for you.’
Was she supposed to thank him? Charlotte wondered. She felt more like punching him. ‘I don’t want an extended stay,’ she said firmly.
Iannis shrugged dismissively. ‘I’d say you don’t have much choice. Why don’t you send that e-mail?’
The laptop was too precious to throw at him.
Charlotte’s fingers flew over the keyboard. She wanted to hate him, it would be so much easier, but even now her feelings were dangerously far from hate.
‘There,’ she said finally, tilting the screen so he could see. ‘It’s all finished—done with. Now will you let me go?’
‘No,’ Iannis said flatly. ‘You stay here with me until I hear from my lawyers. You can ignore me, be as awkward as you like, but it won’t change a thing. Until I have confirmation that this business is over I’m not leaving, so you might as well get used to the idea.’