Helios Crowns His Mistress Read online

  Agon had been an obsession.

  Somewhere in its history was her history, and the key to understanding who she truly was. To have the opportunity to live there on a nine-month secondment had been beyond anything she could have hoped. It had been as if fate was giving her the push she needed to find her birth mother. Somewhere in this land of half a million people was the woman who had borne her.

  For seventeen years Amy had thought about her, wondering what she looked like—did she look like her?—what her voice sounded like, what regrets she might have. Was she ashamed of what she’d done? Surely she was? How could anyone live through what Neysa Soukis had done and not feel shame?

  She’d been easy to locate, but how to approach her...? That had always been the biggest question. Amy couldn’t just turn up at her door; it would likely be slammed in her face and then she would never have her answers. She’d considered writing a letter but had failed to think of what she could say other than: Hi, do you remember me? You carried me for nine months and then dumped me. Any chance you could tell me why?

  Greek social media, which Greta had been helping her with, had proved fruitful. Neysa didn’t use it, but through it Amy had discovered a half-brother. Tentative communications had started between them. She had to hope he would act as a conduit between them.

  ‘Have you arranged transport for Friday?’ Helios asked, the dark eyes hard, the bowed, sensual mouth tight.

  ‘Yes. Everything is in hand,’ she said for a second time, as a sharp pang reached through her as she realised she would never feel those lips on hers again. ‘We’re ahead of schedule.’

  ‘You’re confident that come the Gala the exhibition will be ready?’

  His voice was casual but there was a hardness there, a scepticism she’d never had directed at her before.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, gritting her teeth to stop her hurt and anger leeching out.

  He was punishing her. She should have answered one of his calls. She’d taken the coward’s way out and escaped from the palace in the hope that a few days away from him would give her the strength she needed to resist him. The best way—the only way—of beating her craving for him would be by going cold turkey.

  Because resist him she must. She couldn’t be the other woman. She couldn’t.

  But she hadn’t imagined that seeing him again would physically hurt.

  It did. Dreadfully.

  Before her job had been rubber-stamped, Helios had interviewed her himself. The Jubilee Exhibition was of enormous personal importance to him and he’d been determined that the curator with the strongest affinity to his island would get the job.

  Luckily for her, he’d agreed with Pedro that she was the perfect candidate. He’d told her some months later, when they’d been lying replete in each other’s arms, that it had been her passion and enthusiasm that had convinced him. He’d known she would give the job the dedication it deserved.

  Meeting Helios... He’d been nothing as she’d imagined: as far from the stuffy, pompous, ‘entitled’ Prince she’d expected him to be as was possible.

  Her attraction to him had been immediate, a chemical reaction over which she’d had no control. It had taken her completely off guard. Yet she hadn’t thought anything of it. He was a prince, after all, both powerful and dangerously handsome. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought the attraction would be reciprocated. But it had been.

  He’d been much more involved with the exhibition than she’d anticipated, and she’d often found herself working alone with him, her longing for him an ever-growing fire inside her that she didn’t have a clue how to handle.

  Affairs in the workplace were a fact of life, even in the studious world of antiquities, but they were not something she’d ever been tempted by. She loved her work so much it took her entire focus. Her work gave her purpose. It grounded her. And working with the ancient objects of her own people, seeing first-hand how techniques and social mores had evolved over the years, was a form of proof that the past didn’t have to be the future. Her birth mother’s actions didn’t have to define her, even if she did feel the taint of her behaviour like an invisible stain.

  Relationships of any real meaning had always been out of the question for her. How could she commit to someone if she didn’t know who she truly was? So to find herself feeling such an attraction, and to the man who was effectively her boss, who just happened to be a prince... It was no wonder her emotions had been all over the place.

  Helios had had no such inhibitions.

  Long before he’d laid so much as a finger on her he’d undressed her with his dark liquid eyes, time and again. Until one late afternoon, when she’d been talking to him in the smaller of the exhibition rooms, she on one side, he on the other, and he’d gone from complete stillness to fluid motion in the beat of a heart. He’d walked to her with long strides and pulled her into his arms.

  And that had been it. She’d been his for the taking. And he’d been hers.

  Their three months together had been a dream. Theirs had been a physically intense but surprisingly easy relationship. There had been no expectations. No inhibitions. Just passion.

  Walking away should have been easy.

  The eyes that had undressed her a thousand times now flickered to Pedro, giving silent permission for him to move the discussion on to general museum topics. There might be a special exhibition being organised, but the museum itself still needed to be run to its usual high standards.

  Clearly unnerved—Helios’s mood, usually so congenial, was unsettling all the staff—Pedro raced through the rest of the agenda in double-quick time, finally mentioning the need for someone to cover for one of their tour guides that Thursday. Amy was happy to volunteer. Thursday was her only reasonably quiet day that week, and she enjoyed taking on the tours whenever the opportunity arose.

  One of the things she loved so much about the museum was the collaborative way it was run, with everyone helping each other when needed. It was a philosophy that came from the very top, from Helios himself, even if today there was no sign of his usual amiability.

  Only at the very end of the meeting did Pedro say, ‘Before we leave, can I remind everyone that menus for next Wednesday need to be handed in by Friday?’

  As a thank-you for all the museum staff’s hard work in organising the exhibition, Helios had arranged a night out for everyone before the summer rush hit, all expenses paid. It was a typically generous gesture from him, and a social event Amy had been very much looking forward to. Now, though, the thought of a night out with Helios in attendance made her stomach twist.

  There was a palpable air of relief when the meeting finished. Today there was none of the usual lingering. Everyone scrambled to their feet and rushed for the door.

  ‘Amy, a word please.’ Helios’s rich voice rose over the clatter of hurrying feet.

  She paused, inches from the door, inches from escape. Arranging her face into a neutral expression, she turned around.

  ‘Shut the door behind you.’

  She did as she was told, her heart sinking to her feet, then sat back in her original place opposite him but also the greatest distance possible away.

  It wasn’t far enough.

  The man oozed testosterone.

  He also oozed menace.

  Her heart kicked against her ribs. She clamped her lips together and folded her arms across her chest.

  Yet she couldn’t stop her eyes moving to his, couldn’t stop herself gazing at him.

  His silver chain glinted against the base of his throat. That chain had often brushed against her lips when he’d made love to her.

  And as she stared at him, wondering when he was going to speak, his eyes studied her with the same intensity, making her mouth run dry and her hammering pulse race into a gallop.

  His fingers drummed on the table. ‘Did you have a nice time at Greta’s?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied stiffly, before she realised what he’d said. ‘How did you kn
ow I was there?’

  ‘Through the GPS on your phone.’

  ‘What? You’ve been spying on me?’

  ‘You are the lover of the heir to the throne of Agon. Our relationship is an open secret. I do not endanger what is mine.’

  ‘I’m not yours. Not any more,’ she spat at him, running from fear to fury in seconds. ‘Whatever tracking device you’ve put in my phone, you can take it out. Now.’

  She yanked her bag onto the table, pulled out her phone and threw it at him.

  His hand opened to catch it like a Venus flytrap catching its prey. He laughed. But unlike on Saturday, when he’d thought he’d been indulging her, the sound contained no humour.

  He slid the phone back to her. ‘There’s no tracking device in it. It’s all done through your number.’

  ‘Well, you can damn well untrack it. Take it off your system, or whatever it’s on.’

  He studied her contemplatively. His stillness unnerved her. Helios was never still. He had enough energy to power the whole palace.

  ‘Why did you leave?’

  ‘To get away from you.’

  ‘You didn’t think I would be worried?’

  ‘I thought you’d be too busy cherry-picking your bride to notice I’d gone.’

  Finally a smile played on his lips. ‘Ah, so you were punishing me.’

  ‘No, I was not,’ she refuted hotly. ‘I was giving myself space away from you because I knew you’d still expect to sleep with me after an evening of wooing prospective brides.’

  ‘And you didn’t think you’d be able to resist me?’

  Her cheeks coloured and Helios felt a flare of satisfaction that his thoughts had been correct.

  His beautiful, passionate lover had been jealous.

  Slender, feminine to her core, with a tumbling mane of thick dark blonde hair, Amy was possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. A sculptor wouldn’t hesitate to cast her as Aphrodite. She made his blood thicken just to look at her, even dressed as she was now in an A-line navy skirt and a pretty yet demure lilac top.

  But today there was something unkempt about her appearance that wasn’t usually there: dark hollows beneath her taupe eyes, her rosebud lips dry, her usual glowing complexion paler than was normal.

  And he was the cause of it. The thought sent a thrill through him. Whatever punishment she had hoped to inflict on him by disappearing for a few days, it had backfired on her.

  He would never let her know of the overwhelming fury that had rent him when he’d seen the box she’d left by his door.

  Which reminded him...

  He slid the thick padded envelope he’d placed on the table towards her. Smashing the box when his anger had got the better of him had caused the perfume bottles to spill and ruin the books, but the jewellery had been left undamaged.

  Her eyes narrowed with caution, she extended an elegant hand to it and opened it gingerly. Her mouth tightened when she saw what was inside.

  She dropped the envelope back on the table and got quickly to her feet. ‘I don’t want them.’

  ‘They’re yours. You insult me by returning them.’

  She didn’t blink. ‘And you insult me by giving them back when you’re about to put an engagement ring on another woman’s finger.’

  He got out of his chair and stalked over to her. With the chair behind her she had nowhere to retreat. He pulled her to him, enfolding her in his arms so that her head was pressed to his chest. He was too strong and she was too slender for her to wriggle out of his hold, and in any case he knew her attempts didn’t mean anything.

  He could feel her heat. She wanted to be in his arms.

  Her head was tilted back, her breaths quickening. He watched as the pupils of her eyes darkened and pulsed, as the grey turned to brown, with a passionate fury there that set his veins alight.

  ‘There is no need to be jealous,’ he murmured, pressing himself closer. ‘My marriage doesn’t change my feelings for you.’

  Her left eye twitched, an affliction he’d never seen before. Her top teeth razed across her full bottom lip.

  ‘But it changes my feelings for you.’

  ‘Liar. You can’t deny you still want me.’ He brushed his cheek against hers and whispered into her ear, ‘Only a few days ago you screamed out my name. I still have your scratches on my back.’

  She reared back. ‘That was before I knew you were looking for an immediate wife. I will not be your mistress.’

  ‘There is no shame in it. Generations of Agon monarchs have taken lovers after marriage.’ His grandfather had been the exception to the rule, but only because he’d been fortunate enough to fall in love with his wife.

  Of the thirty-one monarchs who’d ruled Agon since 1203, only a handful had found love and fidelity with their spouses. His own father, although he’d died before he could take the throne, had had dozens of lovers and mistresses. He’d revelled in waving his indiscretions right under his loving wife’s nose.

  ‘And generations ago your ancestors chopped your enemies’ limbs off but you’ve managed to wean yourself off that.’

  He laughed at her retort, running a finger over her chin. Even with her oval face free of make-up Amy was beautiful. ‘We don’t marry for love or companionship, as other people do. We marry for the good of our island. Think of it as a business arrangement. You are my lover. You are the woman I want to be with.’

  His mother had been unfortunate in that she’d already loved his father when they had married, and it was that love which had ultimately destroyed her, long before the car crash that had taken both his parents’ lives.

  He would never inflict the kind of pain his father had caused, not on anyone. He had to marry, but he was upfront about what he wanted: a royal wife to produce the next generation of Kalliakis heirs. No emotions. No expectations of fidelity. A union founded on duty and nothing more.

  Amy stared at him without speaking for the longest time, searching for something. He didn’t know what she hoped to find.

  He brought his face down to meet her lips, which had parted, but she pulled back so only the faintest of touches passed between them.

  ‘I mean it, Helios. We’re finished. I will never be your mistress.’ Her words were but a whisper.

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why are you still standing here? Why is your breath still warm on my face?’

  Brushing his lips across the softness of her cheek, he gripped her bottom and ground her against him, letting her feel his desire for her. The tiniest of moans escaped her throat.

  ‘See?’ He trailed kisses over her delicate ear. ‘You do want me. But you’re punishing me.’

  ‘No, I...’

  ‘Shh...’ He placed a finger on her mouth. ‘We both know I could take you right now and you would welcome it.’

  Heat flared from her eyes but her chin jutted up mutinously.

  ‘I am going to give you exactly five seconds of freedom. Five seconds to leave this room. If after those five seconds you are still here...’ he spoke very quietly into her ear ‘...I will lift up your skirt and make love to you right here and now on this table.’

  She quivered, a small tell but one so familiar he knew the expression that would be in her eyes when he looked into them.

  He was right. The taupe had further darkened; the pupils were even more dilated. The tip of her pink tongue glistened between her parted lips. He knew that if he placed his hands over her small but beautifully formed breasts he would feel her nipples strain towards him.

  He released his hold on her and folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘One.’

  She put a hand to her mouth and dragged it down over her chin.

  ‘Two.’

  She swallowed. Her eyes never left his face. He could practically smell her longing.

  ‘Three... Four...’

  She turned on her heel and fled to the door.

  ‘One week,’ he called to her retreating back.
She was halfway out of the room and made no show of listening to him, but he knew she heard every word. ‘One week and you, matakia mou, will be back in my bed. I guarantee it.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  AMY GAZED AT the marble statues that had arrived on Agon by ship that morning and now sat in the grand entrance hall of the museum on their plinths. Three marble statues. Three kings at the height of their glory. All named Astraeus. The fourth, specially commissioned for the exhibition, would be transported from the sculptor’s studio in a week’s time. It would depict the current monarch, the fourth King Astraeus, as a young man in his prime.

  Helios had personally commissioned it. She didn’t want to think of Helios. But she couldn’t stop.

  He was everywhere. In every painting, every sculpture, every fragment of framed scripture, every piece of pottery. Everything was a reminder that this was all his. His people. His ancestors. Him.

  Her attention kept flickering back to the statue of the second King Astraeus, a marble titan dating from 1403. Trident in hand and unashamedly naked, he had the same arrogant look with an underlying hint of ferociousness that Helios carried so well. If she had known nothing of the Agon royal dynasty, she would have known instinctively that her lover was a descendent of this man. Agon had been at peace for decades but their warrior roots dated back millennia, were ingrained in their DNA.

  Helios had warrior roots in spades.

  She had to stop thinking about him.

  God, this was supposed to be easy. An affair with no promises and no need for compromise.

  She’d been so tempted to stay in the boardroom with him. She’d ached to stay. Her body had been weighted down with need for him. But in the back of her mind had been an image of him exchanging his vows with a faceless woman who would become his wife.

  Amy couldn’t be the other woman. Whatever kind of marriage Helios had in mind for himself, it would still be real. He needed an heir. He would make love to his wife.