Proof Of Their Forbidden Night

In contrast to the sex-bomb image she’d projected last night, this morning she looked as pure as the driven snow in a pale lemon sundress with narrow straps that revealed her delicate shoulders. It was the first time Andreas had seen her hair loose and he wished he could run his fingers through the mass of honey-gold silk that tumbled in soft waves down her back.

Frustration darkened his mood. His fascination with Isla was something he’d never experienced before. Women came and went in his life without making any impact on him. He enjoyed their company as long as it was on his terms and he liked sex uncomplicated by commitment. Perhaps he wanted Isla so badly because she was off limits, he derided himself. For a man who had discovered while he was still a teenager that he could have any woman he wanted with the minimum of effort on his part, the fact that she was unobtainable made her exciting.

But maybe the reason why his heart jolted against his ribs when he met her cool grey gaze was simply that Isla was breathtakingly lovely. Tearing his gaze from her, Andreas glanced at the pile of newspapers on the table. Most of the European tabloids carried a photo on the front page of Stelios looking into the eyes of his new fiancée while he pressed his lips against the enormous diamond on her finger.

Andreas had woken to the storm on social media created by his father’s marriage plans. The announcement had resulted in a spike in Karelis Corp’s share price on the stock market. Investors liked strong company leaders, and presumably the news that Stelios was planning to marry a woman decades younger than him proved that the old man was still a force to be reckoned with, Andreas thought sardonically.

‘I am surprised that you decided to make a public statement about your engagement, Papa. You have previously been critical whenever my name has made the headlines.’

Stelios’s lips thinned. ‘A kiss-and-tell story by one of your disgruntled ex-lovers in a downmarket rag is not the same thing as an announcement about my future plans to the media.’

Andreas was genuinely curious. ‘You have always kept your personal life separate from business but I understand that you invited journalists into the boardroom of Karelis Corp to make your announcement. I am merely pointing out that it is not like you to court the paparazzi.’

Was it his imagination or did Stelios seem relieved when the conversation was curtailed by the arrival of the butler bearing a jug of coffee? Moments later, Dinos’s wife Toula, who had worked as the family’s cook at the villa for as long as Andreas could remember, bustled across the terrace carrying a plate with his favourite breakfast of spinach and feta wrapped in filo pastry. He was fond of the couple, who had taken care of him when he was a boy and had been sent to stay on Louloudi in the school holidays because his mother had preferred him to be out of the way.

‘I am happy that you no longer race your big motorbike,’ Toula told him after they had exchanged greetings. She glanced heavenwards. ‘Always I used to pray that you would be safe. When you had your accident I was so worried about you.’

‘As you can see, I am fully recovered,’ Andreas reassured her, automatically rubbing his hand over the long scar on his chest that was hidden beneath his running vest. The loss of his racing career was still painful and the scar was an ugly reminder of the accident during a race two years ago in which he’d suffered a ruptured aorta that had almost proved fatal.

‘We are all glad that Andreas has finally seen sense and given up fooling around on motorbikes and riding them at ridiculous speeds,’ Stelios said in a gruff tone.

Andreas’s mouth tightened. He hadn’t expected sympathy from his father, who had disapproved of his racing career. But the lecture he’d received while he had been recovering from his injuries had driven a wedge further between him and Stelios. It had been the same old rhetoric: Karelis Corp was his destiny and his duty.

‘I was the Superbike World Champion for four consecutive years,’ he reminded his father. ‘The racing team which I own and manage is regarded as a world leader in the development of analytics used to modernise engine configuration testing, and Aeolus Racing has sponsorship worth millions of dollars. I would not call that fooling around.’

Stelios frowned. ‘Your place is here in Greece, not in California. You know that I would like to retire and you should be preparing to take my place as head of the company.’

‘You have spent much of your time in England for the past eighteen months,’ Andreas pointed out. ‘Every time I visited you in London I tried to talk about Karelis Corp, and in particular some worrying rumours I have heard about the company, but you refused to discuss things with me.’

A dark flush appeared on Stelios’s face. ‘I need to be sure of your commitment to Karelis Corp. If you spent less time womanising, and there were fewer stories about your personal life in the gutter press I would feel more confident about handing the most powerful role in the company over to you.’

Andreas gritted his teeth. ‘You know full well that the woman who sold her story to the papers was lying.’

But the damage to his reputation had been done, Andreas thought bitterly. When lingerie model Sadie Barnes had told him she was pregnant with his child he’d asked for a paternity test. She had tearfully accused him of not trusting her, but he’d insisted on a test. Instead, Sadie had sold a story to the tabloids saying that Andreas had abandoned her and his unborn baby.

The media storm had broken on the day he was due to compete in a motorbike race which, had he won, would have given him the title of World Superbike Champion for a record fifth time. But an hour before the race Stelios had phoned Andreas and accused him of bringing shame to the name Karelis and damaging the company. The furious exchange of words with his father had, Andreas was sure, contributed to his lapse of concentration that had resulted in the high-speed crash.

‘I accept that that particular story turned out to be untrue, but your playboy image is not good for Karelis Corp,’ Stelios muttered. ‘You should be thinking about marrying a suitable wife and settling down.’ Andreas gave a snort of derision and Stelios rose to his feet and shook his head when Isla immediately stood up. ‘Sit down and finish your breakfast, my dear.’ He spoke to her in a softer voice than he had used to his son. ‘I need to phone my lawyer and I’ll go to my study to make the call.’

Isla looked as though she wanted to argue as she watched Stelios walk slowly towards the house. After a few moments she sat back down and glared at Andreas. Clearly she blamed him for the argument with Stelios. The truth was that he and his father were both strong-willed, but Stelios wanted an heir he could mould into his likeness, not a maverick son who was determined to make his own mark on the world.

Andreas scowled at the plate of food in front of him, his appetite suddenly non-existent. He felt taut and strung out and his mood turned blacker with the realisation that for once he had no control over his feelings. For the first time in his life he wished he was far away from Louloudi, far away from the woman who had such an unsettling effect on him.

The floral fragrance of Isla’s perfume assailed him and his skin felt too tight for his body. He wondered what she would do if he walked around the table, leaned over and claimed her mouth with his. Would she respond to him as she had done in London? She had wanted him to kiss her on the terrace last night. Her eyes had flashed silver-bright with desire and he’d sensed the effort it had taken her to resist the attraction that blazed between them. He forced his mind back to the present when Isla spoke.

‘Your father loves you, you know,’ she said softly. ‘He told me that he wishes the two of you were closer.’

Andreas was outraged that Stelios had discussed him with Isla. It felt like a betrayal. ‘With respect,’ he said grittily, ‘my relationship with my father is none of your damn business.’

‘I was simply trying to help. I care about Stelios...’

He snorted. ‘You sound convincing, but unlike my father I am not the least bit taken in by the role of ingénue that you play so well. Let’s face it, Stelios is not the first wealthy old man to be susceptible to your charms. A few years ago you inherited a substantial sum of money from a Major Charles Walters who you had befriended.’

‘It’s true that I was friends with Charles and his wife Enid. I was shocked when I learned that they had left me a bequest but there was nothing grubby or underhand about it.’ Hectic colour flared on Isla’s cheeks. ‘They were an elderly, childless couple who owned the manor house in the village where I grew up, and they were patrons of the local school. When I was a teenager I had a part-time cleaning job at the manor, and Charles and Enid encouraged my hope of going to university. They died within a few months of each other and left legacies to several young people in the village with the stipulation that the money was to go towards paying university fees. Without their generosity, I would have graduated with a huge debt and struggled to continue with my studies.’ She frowned. ‘How did you know I had been left some money?’

‘You were investigated,’ he told her smoothly, watching her grey eyes flash with anger. It gave him a sense of satisfaction knowing he’d rattled her. ‘My family are one of the wealthiest in Greece and, although security here on Louloudi is discreet, I asked the protection team to run some checks on you. My father especially is at risk of being kidnapped and held to ransom by criminal gangs.’

‘I’m not a criminal.’ Isla’s finely arched brows drew together in a frown. ‘Does Stelios know that you had me investigated?’

‘Does he know that you inherited money from another wealthy old man?’ Andreas countered to avoid answering her question.

‘Your father knows everything about me.’

She met Andreas’s gaze across the table and he found himself looking away first, shaken by the honesty in her expression. There was something else, an inexplicable sadness. The shimmer of tears made her grey eyes glisten like wet slate. She was a damn good actress, he thought grimly, but he refused to fall for her little-girl-lost look.

Isla stood up and Andreas was aware of the hard thud of his pulse as the breeze flattened her dress against her body, revealing the swell of her breasts and the gentle curve of her hips. ‘I wish you would believe that I mean your father no harm.’

‘Stelios doesn’t seem to be himself.’ Andreas also got to his feet, frowning as he remembered how exhausted his father had been at the end of the dinner party.

Isla hesitated. ‘He has been working hard.’

The gentle affection in her voice for Stelios evoked a feeling in Andreas that he refused to acknowledge was envy. His mother had not shown him tenderness or affection when he was a child, and since he’d reached adulthood he’d avoided emotional relationships, assuring himself that he neither wanted nor needed love. He swore silently, irritated that Isla made him question the status quo of his life that he’d been perfectly content with until now.

‘Perhaps Stelios is tired for another reason,’ he growled. Isla looked puzzled and he elaborated. ‘You are a lot younger than my father and he might be wearing himself out trying to keep you happy in the bedroom.’

‘Your father and I are not lovers,’ she said stiffly.

‘Why not?’ Andreas’s eyes narrowed when she did not answer. ‘I’m curious about your relationship with Stelios. I watched the two of you at dinner last night and I’d swear you do not feel any sexual attraction for my father.’

‘Not everything is about sex,’ she snapped. ‘Relationships—meaningful relationships, not the love-’em-and-leave-’em kind that you only seem capable of—are about mutual respect, friendship and trust.’

Andreas frowned, unsettled by her fervent words. In an ideal relationship those were the qualities he would want. But he did not believe in happy ever after. Isla certainly sounded convincing, but he was sure she had an ulterior motive for wanting to marry his father. His conscience pricked that he wanted to believe the worst of her. If he believed that she was untrustworthy, it might end his annoying fascination with her. His jaw hardened.

‘My guess is that you are determined to make Stelios wait until after he has married you before you will allow him to take you to bed. As his wife you will have access to his fortune.’

Isla drew an audible breath and swung her hand up to his face, but Andreas’s reactions were quicker and he captured her wrist before she could strike him. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he advised softly.

‘You have a vile mind.’ She was breathing hard and her breasts rose and fell jerkily. Her grey eyes darkened with temper but Andreas could feel the pulse in her wrist beating erratically beneath his thumb. The air between them prickled with sexual awareness and he was certain that Isla felt it as intensely as he did. Her voice cracked when she spoke. ‘I’m not surprised that Stelios doesn’t—’ She broke off and dropped her gaze from his.

‘My father doesn’t approve of me. Is that what you were going to say?’ he drawled. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it did. He and Stelios hadn’t seen eye to eye for years.

‘He doesn’t feel able to confide in you,’ Isla muttered. ‘I wish you would talk to Stelios and resolve the differences between you, before...’

‘Before...what?’ Andreas’s brows rose. But whatever Isla had been about to say she clearly thought better of it. She pulled her wrist out of his grasp and turned and walked away. He watched her go and cursed beneath his breath.

The differences between him and his father were not easily resolvable. Stelios had been a largely absent parent when Andreas was young, spending the majority of his time running Karelis Corp, and later with his English mistress. But Andreas was no longer a teenager who saw everything as black or white. He understood how his mother’s poor health—she’d often reminded him that she had suffered a stroke due to complications during his birth—must have put a strain on his parents’ relationship. He had never felt loved by either of them. He was the Karelis heir, born and raised to take over the company which had been started by his great-grandfather. His father had not forgiven him for putting his motorbike racing career ahead of his duty—especially as Stelios had put duty to his family before his personal happiness.

Nefeli’s birthday party could not come round soon enough, Andreas brooded as he resumed his seat at the table and forced himself to eat the spanakopita that Toula had made for him. In a few days he would return to California and concentrate on managing Aeolus Racing. Maybe he’d look up the redhead who had flirted with him in a bar before he’d left for Greece. It was weeks since he’d had sex, and celibacy was not a natural state for him. Frustration was no doubt the reason for his inconvenient attraction to his father’s fiancée.

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