Proof Of Their Forbidden Night

Giving a soft sigh, she pushed open the French windows and stepped outside onto the terrace. It was dark now, and the stunning view across the gardens to the sea beyond was hidden. Although summer was coming to an end, the night was sultry and the air was thick with the scents of rosemary and lavender which grew in big terracotta pots.

Isla’s hand strayed to the ruby and diamond necklace around her throat and once again she checked that the clasp was securely fastened.

‘I’m terrified I might lose it,’ she’d whispered to Stelios earlier in the day while they had posed for photographers in the boardroom of Karelis Corp in Athens. ‘The necklace must be worth a fortune. I’d feel happier wearing something less ostentatious.’

Stelios had dismissed her concerns and taken hold of her hand, lifting it up to brush his lips across the enormous diamond ring that he’d slipped onto her finger just before they had faced the cameras. ‘Try to relax and smile,’ he murmured. ‘The eyes of the world will be on you when the news of our betrothal is announced in the media tomorrow. I am a billionaire and people will expect my fiancée to wear fabulous jewellery and dress in haute couture.’

After the press conference recording they had boarded a helicopter for the short flight to Stelios’s island. When they were seated in the helicopter’s luxurious cabin he gave her a wry smile. ‘I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the importance of making our engagement appear convincing in front of the press. It is vital at this time of financial turbulence that Karelis Corp’s competitors believe I am a strong leader of the company. Just as importantly, I want to hide my illness from my family until after my daughter’s twenty-first birthday.’

‘I know you are trying to protect Nefeli. But I urge you to tell her and Andreas the truth. Your children won’t be pleased about our engagement. They already dislike me.’

Stelios’s daughter had barely hidden her hostility towards Isla whenever she had visited her father at his home in Kensington. And Andreas had nothing but disdain for her. Isla was quite certain of that, even though she had only met him a handful of times. Oh, on the surface he was polite enough. Quite charming, in fact. But she wasn’t fooled by his laid-back air and the careless smile that curved his lips but did not match the coldly cynical expression in his eyes.

She didn’t know why Andreas had disapproved of her when she’d been employed as his father’s housekeeper, or why he’d kissed her the last time he had come to London. The kiss had been unexpected, which was why she had responded to him, she assured herself.

‘You are mistaken. I am sure my children find you delightful.’ Stelios had sought to reassure her. ‘I need you to be the focus of attention. Everyone will be fascinated by my beautiful fiancée and they won’t notice that I have lost weight. I will explain about my illness when the time is right to do so. But I want Nefeli to enjoy her twenty-first birthday party, spared from the knowledge that I will not be around to celebrate future birthdays with her.’

Isla couldn’t argue with Stelios’s reasoning or his desire to protect his daughter when she understood the devastation of losing a parent. It had taken her a long time to come to terms with her mum’s death in a horrific accident. Tragically, Stelios had arrived in England in search of Marion six months too late.

The muted sounds of the party drifted across the terrace and Isla was glad to be outside, away from the spotlight for a few minutes. The ruby necklace felt heavy around her neck and she wished she hadn’t allowed Stelios to persuade her to wear it. But he had insisted that the necklace and matching drop earrings were perfect accessories for the red dress he’d suggested she should wear to the press conference and dinner party. The tight-fitting dress clung to her body and the scooped neckline revealed more of her cleavage than Isla was comfortable with. She did not normally wear attention-grabbing clothes. But the point of her overtly sexy outfit and the reason for the announcement of their engagement was to draw attention away from Stelios’s ill-health.

The sound of footsteps on the terrace behind her caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end, a sixth sense warning her of imminent danger. She froze when a mocking voice drawled, ‘Ah, the blushing bride-to-be! You have been a clever girl, Isla.’

Her heart gave an annoying flip, as it always did when Stelios’s son was in the vicinity, and it took every ounce of her willpower to turn towards him when her instincts urged her to flee. Somehow she managed to say calmly, ‘Whatever do you mean, Andreas?’

The simple act of uttering his name evoked a wild heat inside her, and she prayed he would think her cheeks were flushed because the temperature in Greece was much warmer than the chilly, grey England she had left two days ago. Isla hated that Andreas Karelis made her feel like a gauche teenager but she suspected he had the same effect on most women.

Handsome did not come near to describing his sculpted features, with those razor-edge cheekbones, square jaw and outrageously sensual mouth that looked as if it had been shaped entirely for the purpose of kissing. His hair was the same shade of dark brown as the rich Greek coffee she had served him when he had visited his father at the house in Kensington.

It was not just his height—she estimated that he was three or four inches over six foot—or his attractive features, dominated by his startling blue eyes, that set him apart from other men. Andreas possessed a smouldering sensuality that Isla could not ignore, however much she wished she could.

Although he had retired from motorbike racing he was still regarded as a sporting legend by an army of adoring groupies. His reputation as a playboy was reinforced by stories of his love-life played out in the pages of tabloid newspapers and celebrity gossip magazines. Not that Isla took the slightest interest in the scandalous headlines about Andreas, but she knew they upset his father and she had resolved to protect Stelios from stress and worry as much as she possibly could for the time he had left.

It was inexplicable the way her pulse quickened and her breasts rose and fell jerkily when she was anywhere near Andreas. Worse was the realisation that he knew the effect he had on her. He smiled, baring his teeth and reminding her of a wolf that had cornered its prey. Isla considered walking as quickly as her skyscraper stiletto heels would permit, back inside the villa where Stelios was chatting with some of his dinner guests. But before she could move Andreas stepped towards her and she found herself edging up against the stone balustrade.

In the moonlight he seemed even bigger and distinctly menacing as his muscular, whipcord body loomed over her. There was nothing she could do but brazen it out and she forced herself to tilt her head and meet his hard stare.

‘I have a feeling that you were not paying me a compliment when you called me clever,’ she remarked, pleased that she sounded composed when she felt anything but.

His eyes narrowed, but not before she’d glimpsed a flash of surprise at her challenging tone. ‘There are words to describe women like you and none of them are complimentary.’

Isla blinked, taken aback by the ferocity in Andreas’s low voice. The contemptuous curl of his lips caused a stab of hurt beneath her breastbone. Her treacherous heart hammered when he lifted his hand and ran his forefinger over the rubies at her throat.

‘Very pretty,’ he said, still in that harsh tone that seemed to come from deep within him. But although he touched the blood-red stones strung alternately between sparkling diamonds, his eyes were on her face and his expression made her shiver and burn simultaneously. She held her breath when he moved his hand up to one of her ears and flicked his finger against the huge ruby surrounded by diamonds dangling from her earlobe. ‘Was this jewellery, and the shiny bauble on your finger, your price for agreeing to marry my father?’

‘I don’t have a price.’

He gave a disbelieving snort. ‘Tell me, Isla, why would a beautiful young woman choose to become engaged to an elderly billionaire if not for financial gain?’

Her temper flared at his implication that she was a fortune hunter. ‘Do you think I’m a gold-digger?’

‘Well done. I said you were clever,’ he mocked.

The condemnation in Andreas’s eyes was unjust. For a moment Isla was tempted to defend herself by explaining the truth about her relationship with his father. But she’d given her word to Stelios that she would keep his secret. A secret which was going to have huge implications for his family and possibly for his oil refining business. As yet Andreas was unaware that Karelis Corp was threatened by a hostile takeover bid from another company. Soon he would learn that her engagement to his father was intended to make Stelios appear strong and in control of the company, and Andreas might even thank her.

‘Your father and I have an understanding...’

He swore, his voice low but no less savage. ‘Does Stelios know about us?’

‘Us?’ Isla’s brows lifted and she injected cool disdain into her tone. ‘There has never been us.’

‘We shared a scorching kiss at my father’s house in London. Theos! The chemistry between us was explosive,’ Andreas reminded her.

Heat spread across Isla’s face. She needed no reminding of her uncharacteristically wanton behaviour. She had declined Stelios’s invitation to join him and Andreas when she’d served coffee in the drawing room. Making the excuse that she was doing some baking, she had carefully not met Andreas’s speculative gaze. But later he had returned the tea tray to the kitchen.

‘Thanks. You can leave the cups in the sink,’ she told him in a dismissive voice, hoping he would take the hint and return to his father. Her heart-rate quickened when he lounged against the kitchen counter.

‘So you weren’t lying,’ he murmured, watching her take a tray of madeleines out of the oven. ‘I assumed you’d said you were busy in the kitchen because you wanted to avoid me.’

‘I never tell lies,’ she said crisply, focusing her attention on lifting the delicate little cakes onto a cooling rack rather than look at Andreas. But she was fiercely aware of him, casually dressed in jeans that hugged his lean hips and a black T-shirt moulded to his muscular torso. His rampant masculinity disturbed her and the sensual musk of his aftershave in the warm kitchen assailed her senses.

‘I’m glad to hear it. Perhaps you can explain why my father has fallen asleep in his armchair in the middle of the day. I know he is not getting any younger, but he has always had the energy of a man half his age.’

Weeks of gruelling chemotherapy had drained Stelios’s strength, but Isla couldn’t reveal to Andreas that his father was undergoing treatment for cancer. So much for her boast that she did not tell lies, she thought ruefully. ‘Your father has been working hard recently,’ she murmured. ‘Why on earth would I want to avoid you?’

She had asked the question to distract attention away from Stelios’s health—and her ploy worked. Andreas moved closer and there was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slid his hand beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his.

‘You tell me, omorfia mou. Do you think I haven’t noticed the hungry looks you send me every time I pay my father a visit?’

‘I don’t...’ she began, her face flaming with embarrassment that Andreas had guessed her fascination with him. It was so unlike her. She was always guarded with men, determined to protect her heart against the pain of rejection that she’d felt so deeply in the past. Andreas’s sexy laugh sent a tremor through her and, fool that she was, Isla ignored her common sense which told her to step away from him.

‘Yes, you do,’ he drawled. ‘What’s more, you want me to kiss you.’

Her heart leapt into her throat. ‘I do not...’ she whispered, but her denial died away as he lowered his head until his lips were centimetres above hers and his warm breath grazed her skin.

‘Liar.’

He had kissed her then. Although kiss was not an apt description of the way he had claimed her mouth with an arrogant possession that should have appalled her. Instead she had capitulated to his mastery, unable to resist his fiery passion and the bold sweep of his tongue between her lips.

The kiss was unlike anything Isla had ever experienced before. She had been kissed by other men—a few, although she could count on one hand the number of dates she’d been on that had got as far as a fumbling kiss at the end of the evening, she thought ruefully. When Andreas kissed her, she discovered a deeply sensual side to her nature that shocked her. But, before she had a chance to explore how he made her feel, he snatched his mouth from hers and stepped away from her so abruptly that she grabbed hold of the kitchen counter to support her legs that had turned to jelly. Andreas’s hard-boned face gave no clue to his thoughts and he walked out of the kitchen without a word.

Isla felt humiliated by his rejection, which brought back painful memories of when she’d been a teenager and had introduced herself to her father. With hindsight, perhaps she had been naïve to hope that David Stanford would be delighted to meet the daughter he’d abandoned when she was a few months old. But his insistence that there was no place for her in his life had been a brutal end to her hopes of having a relationship with her father. Isla had vowed then never to allow herself to be hurt by any man ever again.

She was jolted back to the present when she felt the pressure of Andreas’s hard thigh against hers. She hadn’t been aware that he’d moved, but now she found herself trapped against the balustrade. Her breath hitched in her throat when he ran his finger lightly down her hot cheek. She realised that she had been staring at his sensual mouth while she’d relived the kiss they had shared in London. The gleam in his eyes told her he had read her thoughts.

‘Tell me about your romance with my father,’ he demanded in a cynical voice. ‘It seems very sudden. A few weeks ago you were employed as his housekeeper and you were quite happy to kiss me.’

‘The kiss was a mistake that I immediately regretted.’ She flushed at his look of arrogant disbelief. ‘It’s true. You’re a playboy who uses women for your pleasure and discards them like trash when you are bored of them. You asked why I accepted your father’s proposal and I’ll tell you. Stelios is a gentleman. He is kind and sweet...’

Isla’s voice thickened with emotion. Stelios was the only person, apart from her mother, who had ever cared about her, but soon he would be gone from this world, just as her mother had gone, and she would be alone again. The one tiny comfort was that Stelios and Marion would finally be together.

‘You expect me to believe that my father’s wealth has no bearing on your decision to accept his marriage proposal?’ Andreas gritted.

‘I don’t care what you believe. The truth is that I love your father.’

Andreas jerked as if she’d slapped him. His blue eyes burned into Isla like lasers, seeking out every last secret in her soul as his dark head came closer, blotting out the light from the room behind him so that there was just the darkness of the night and the harsh sound of his breaths echoing the erratic beat of her heart.

‘Love?’ he mocked. He captured her wrist between his strong fingers. ‘I could kiss you right now and you wouldn’t stop me, even though my father, who you profess to love, and the guests he invited to celebrate his engagement to you are only feet away from us.’

He dropped his gaze to the exposed upper slopes of her breasts that were rising and falling jerkily. Isla knew she should demand that he release her. But she couldn’t speak, could barely think. The spicy scent of his aftershave, mixed with something elusive and male, swamped her senses. His mouth, so close to hers but not close enough, was an unbearable torment. Heat swept through her and she felt an ache low in her pelvis. Her breasts felt heavy and she wanted... Oh, God, she wanted his mouth everywhere on her body.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Andreas swore. ‘This is crazy,’ he said hoarsely. He sounded as if he was waging an internal battle with himself and his voice jolted Isla to her senses.

She must be out of her mind to allow Andreas to undermine her defences. Even if she hadn’t agreed to the pretend engagement with Stelios, it would be foolish to succumb to her desire for Andreas, which made her feel hot and shivery at the same time.

No other man had ever excited her the way Andreas did, and she longed to press herself against his whipcord body and burn in his fire. But the kiss they had shared in London had clearly meant nothing to him, she reminded herself, still smarting from the memory of how he had walked away from her without a backward glance. She would not be Andreas’s plaything and she put her hand on his chest to push him away, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away from her.

Light spilled across the terrace from the drawing room as the door swung open and Stelios’s slightly stooped figure was silhouetted in the doorframe. ‘Isla?’

‘I’m here,’ she called out. She was still looking at Andreas and flushed at the contemptuous expression in his eyes when he stared back at her. Thank goodness she had come to her senses and stopped him from kissing her.

‘What are you doing out here in the dark?’ Stelios asked.

‘I was pointing out the lights of some of the notable buildings on the mainland to Isla,’ Andreas told his father, falling into step beside her when she walked back across the terrace. ‘I explained that the villa stands on a hill, hence the excellent view.’

Stelios was silent as his eyes moved between Isla and his son. ‘Yes, I see,’ he said softly at last. Isla prayed he didn’t. It was ridiculous to feel guilty, she told herself. Stelios had promised that he would explain to his family the reason for their fake engagement after Nefeli’s birthday party. But the affection she felt for the elderly man was genuine and she smiled at him as she slipped her arm through his.

‘I’m sorry you were looking for me. I should have told you that I was stepping outside for some fresh air.’

‘Your advice is needed,’ Stelios told her. ‘My friend Georgios is planning to visit the British Museum in London and he is especially interested in seeing the collection of ancient Greek antiquities housed there. I explained that you will be able to advise him which galleries and exhibits he would enjoy.’

‘Do you spend a lot of time in a museum, Isla?’ Andreas’s tone was sceptical.

‘I work as an assistant curator in the Greek and Roman department at the British Museum. The position is part-time, allowing me to fit the hours around my job as your father’s housekeeper in London, as well as studying for my PhD in classical civilisations.’

That wiped the smirk off Andreas’s face, Isla thought with satisfaction as she allowed Stelios to escort her back into the salon to join the other guests. Andreas had accused her of being a gold-digger and she’d enjoyed his obvious surprise that she had a career. But she was annoyed with herself for caring about his opinion of her. Common sense told her that he was the last man on the planet she should be drawn to.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had followed them into the salon and taken a drink from the butler. Andreas must have sensed her eyes on him and he turned his head to look directly at her, lifting his glass in mocking salute before he drained the amber liquid in one gulp. Isla watched the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

He was unashamedly masculine and she remembered how his body had felt as hard as steel when he’d trapped her up against the balustrade on the terrace with a muscular thigh. His olive-toned skin gleamed like bronze in the brightly lit room, and when he raked his hand carelessly through his dark hair her fingers itched to do the same.

Isla had never been this fascinated by a member of the opposite sex before. She had dated a few guys at university but was wary of being hurt and she’d never felt a desire for any of those relationships to progress as far as the bedroom, which was why she couldn’t understand her response to Andreas. She did not like him and certainly didn’t trust him, so why did he make her senses sing and bring her body to urgent life?

She had the unenviable title of the world’s oldest virgin, Isla thought wryly. Although she doubted that Andreas would believe it. His cynical expression when he’d seen the sparkling diamond ring on her finger indicated that he was convinced she had used her feminine wiles to captivate his billionaire father.

CHAPTER THREE

ANDREAS’S FEET POUNDED on the sand where the waves rippled against the shore. The sun was climbing high in the sky and the temperature was already soaring. Usually he went for a run at the break of dawn when the day was fresh and full of possibilities. But he had woken late after a restless night. Sleep had eluded him for hours as he’d struggled to understand his behaviour the previous evening when he’d followed Isla out onto the terrace and been tempted to kiss her.

Theos, she had made him shake like a teenager at the mercy of his hormones. The chemistry between them had been almost tangible and if she hadn’t pushed him away he doubted he would have been able to resist her. But the realisation that he could have been caught in a compromising situation with his father’s fiancée had filled him with self-loathing. Even more incomprehensible was the fact that Isla had threatened his self-control with her mix of sensuality and innocence, which couldn’t be real, he told himself.

He was convinced that Isla was a gold-digger. Andreas had learned from bitter personal experience that some women had no scruples and would do anything to get their hands on the Karelis fortune. His mouth thinned as he remembered the lies that an ex-girlfriend, Sadie, had told the media about him after he’d seen through her attempt to deceive him. He should have realised sooner that Sadie had been more interested in his bank balance than him. He would bet his entire fortune that Isla was attracted to his elderly father’s wealth. Her air of vulnerability, which evoked a protective instinct in Andreas he hadn’t known he possessed, was no doubt part of her clever act, he thought grimly.

He ran faster, pushing himself until his lungs burned. But when he reached the end of the bay—after passing the old fisherman’s cottage that he’d turned into his private bolthole—and climbed the headland of volcanic rock, he barely noticed the stunning view of the crystalline turquoise sea. Instead he visualised Isla in her sexy red dress and remembered how soft her body had felt against his when she’d brushed past him on the terrace.

She had insisted that she loved Stelios. Of course she was bound to say that, Andreas brooded. But, for all his cynicism, he could not deny that there had been genuine emotion in her voice. Another thing which had thrown him was learning that she was highly educated and worked in a goddamn museum. If she had been an airhead it would be easier to dismiss her relationship with his father. Isla Stanford was an enigma. Andreas did not know what to make of her and it irritated the hell out of him.

On his way back to the villa his phone rang. ‘You are sure about this?’ he questioned the security officer who he’d asked to look into Isla’s background. ‘I see. That’s very interesting. Keep digging, Theo.’

His father and Isla were sitting at the breakfast table on the terrace which overlooked the infinity pool. Andreas hoped to slip unnoticed into the house, but Stelios waved to him and with a faint sigh he walked towards the table.

‘Kalimera, Papa, Isla,’ he murmured in greeting. The thought briefly crossed his mind that his father looked thinner than when he’d seen him in London a month ago. But his gaze was drawn to Isla and he forgot everything else.