His Greek Wedding Night Debt (Passion In Paradise Book 10) Page 6

  He gazed right at her a moment longer before turning his stare back to the area of levelled ground where his bedroom would be situated. His voice dropped to a murmur. ‘Do you still find the thought of being pressed naked against a window while being taken from behind erotic?’

  His question was so unexpected that it took a few moments for the words to sink in, but when they did and provoked the accompanying imagery...

  Her whole being became suffused with sticky heat that sucked all the air from her lungs.

  ‘That,’ she hissed when she found her voice, ‘is completely inappropriate.’

  And cruel. That was another thing whispered during those long nights: seductive discussions about where they wanted to make love in their imaginary future home. The prudish woman he’d met in the Agon palace garden had, under Theo’s tutelage, discovered her sensual side, one she’d never suspected existed. He’d opened her mind and set her imagination free and it had been headily joyous. In truth, they had tortured each other with those seductive talks, Helena because she’d been desperate for Theo to forgo his ridiculous pledge to wait until they were married before making love to her and Theo torturing himself in turn by his inability to allow anyone to best him at anything, even his fiancée at erotic fantasies.

  The man who saw any woman with a pulse as fair game for bedding had been ruthless about keeping their genitalia apart, whereas she, the strait-laced, hard-working virgin, had been desperate to experience his lovemaking. His willpower had been stronger than her desperation.

  Helena swallowed hard and forced the conversation back to the job at hand. ‘What about guest rooms? Are they all to be en suite?’

  ‘Of course. Each to have its own bath and walk-in shower.’

  She nodded and unnecessarily wrote it in her notebook. She hadn’t needed to take any notes but would rather hurl herself into the sea than admit she remembered it all.

  She forced her features to remain neutral just as she had a few hours ago when he’d finally deigned to return to the peninsula as lunch was being served, looking like a man about to embark on a yachting holiday. Helena, dressed in her usual uniform of A-line skirt and blouse, had resisted the impulse to throw her salad at him. Now she resisted the impulse to throw her notebook at him.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to return to the lodge,’ she said with all the politeness she could muster. She would keep her professionalism even if it killed her. Which it probably would.

  ‘You have enough to get going on the designs?’

  ‘I’ve enough to make a start but that’s not the reason I want to return to the lodge.’ She stared hard at him, trying to meet his eyes behind the double barrier of their shades, but failing. ‘I’m not used to such heat.’

  ‘You’re half-Greek.’

  ‘Born and raised in England, which I haven’t left in three years. It would be better if we make site visits early, rather than in the afternoon when the sun is at its highest.’

  His wide lips twitched, the corners lifting in what could be regarded as a smirk. ‘Do I detect a rebuke?’

  ‘You’re the client. It’s not my place to rebuke you. I’m just pointing out that it’s easier to concentrate when my brain isn’t being boiled by the sun.’

  More lip-twitching. ‘Point taken.’

  ‘Thank you. Can we come back after breakfast?’

  ‘If I’m back.’

  ‘Back?’ She didn’t mean for it to come out so sharply but Theo had, again, caught her off-guard.

  ‘I have a function to attend in Athens this evening.’ Even through his shades Theo could see the colour rise on Helena’s face. ‘A preview exhibition at an art gallery.’

  ‘Then you must want to get going,’ she said stiffly, striding away from him. Unfortunately for Helena, her legs were so short it took him only three of his own strides to catch up with her.

  ‘Come with me?’

  She gave him a look that could strip paint.

  ‘Is that a no?’

  ‘I am not here for a social life, I’m here to work.’

  ‘You have been working all day.’

  ‘Actually, no. I couldn’t start work this morning as you didn’t get here until lunch.’

  ‘That must have been torture for you.’ Helena was nothing if not dedicated to her career. It had meant far more to her than he ever had. ‘How did you pass the time?’

  Her nose rose. ‘By familiarising myself with the computers in my office.’

  ‘You had a morning to yourself on the most beautiful island on Earth and spent it playing with your computer?’

  ‘I wasn’t playing.’

  ‘How has your social life been?’ he asked pointedly, revelling in her growing fury. He could sense her clinging to her professionalism by a thread, using it as a cloak to hide behind. He wanted the Helena he remembered to throw the cloak and all its shackles aside and emerge in her full, seductive glory, and he had no qualms about using whatever weapons he had at his disposal to achieve it.

  ‘That is none of your business.’

  ‘I’m just making conversation. You’ve made friends?’ Helena was the only person he’d ever met who could count her friends on the fingers of one hand, the thumb surplus to requirements. This solitude was alien to him, a man who enjoyed a healthy social life with a vast network of friends.

  ‘Yes, Theo, I have friends.’

  ‘Any friends under the age of fifty? A boyfriend?’ He nudged her teasingly with his elbow. ‘A lover?’

  She stepped out of his reach and accelerated her pace.

  ‘Definitely a lover,’ he said knowingly, then was unable to resist adding, ‘Does he turn you on as much as I do?’

  She came to a sudden stop. Slowly, she twisted to face him and cast him with a look of pure disdain. And then she laughed. ‘Do you really want me to answer that? Do you think your ego can take it?’ They’d reached the lodge. She smiled serenely and said airily, ‘Enjoy your evening, Theo. I’ll see you in the morning—in a professional capacity. I trust you’ll be able to find your professionalism then too.’

  Theo let her go inside. His heart was thudding at the dawning realisation that Helena really had taken a lover in the intervening years. It had always been in the back of his mind that she had no reason to hold on to her virginity, but until that moment he’d never believed it had happened. Theo had been unable to move on, but Helena...

  She had thrived without him.

  She’d had lovers.

  He couldn’t believe how heavy and twisted it made his guts feel.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE OFFICE HELENA had been appointed by Theo was, she had to admit, perfect. He’d provided her with everything she’d requested and as a result she had a humungous rectangular table on which to spread out her plans and display 3D models of her designs, a ginormous desk with three brand-new desktop computers and two brand-new laptops, all with the specified software installed. She also had a 3D printer, an ordinary printer and enough of the specific stationery she used to keep her going for the next year.

  She had no intention of being here for even a quarter of a year. Once the designs were approved, she was out of here. A Greek project manager would take over the day-to-day running of the build and liaise with officials. To get to that point, though, was going to take a lot of hard work. Greek planning law was a whole new area for her and, while she’d crammed the subject every spare minute this past month, she was quite sure there were many areas she could trip herself up on if she didn’t give it due diligence.

  The five days she’d already spent here had gone much better than anticipated, mostly because Theo had stopped flirting with her. Her parting shot at the end of their first site visit must have worked, for he’d turned into the epitome of professionalism. Or had it been her insinuation that she’d had lovers? Whatever the cause, she was glad he’d stopped t
ormenting her. She was.

  If it weren’t for the sparks that played beneath her skin, working with him would be easy. Theo, she was learning, had a keen but relaxed approach to business that stopped her second-guessing herself and tying herself in knots about meeting his approval. If she suggested something he didn’t agree with he would dismiss it, but not in a way that made her feel foolish for broaching the subject. The suggestions he did agree with, he had a way of approving them that made her feel as if she’d grown wings.

  It was the nights she struggled with. Her five nights here had been spent with her own company. Theo disappeared the moment business hours finished, sailing away on his yacht to wherever he planned to enjoy his evening. He invited her to join him every time and every time she refused. Each refusal was met with a nonchalant shrug before he strolled off.

  So much for him being available to her day and night, but she was in no position to complain, not when he’d complied with all her requests. Since that first day, he’d made sure to be back and ready to work by the time she’d finished breakfast. All their site visits had been done before the sun blazed hot enough to chargrill them.

  Last night, for the first time, he’d arrived back before the sun rose. Helena hadn’t been listening out for him or anything, but sleep had been slow to arrive since she’d been on the peninsula. She could only have been dozing when she heard footsteps, then his bedroom door close. Whose bed had he crept out of before returning?

  Every time she’d closed her eyes after that she’d been plagued by images of Theo and a faceless woman entwined.

  It shouldn’t bother her whom he spent his time with or what they did together. Theo was never going to live like a monk and it was unreasonable for her to expect him to curb his lust just because she was working for him. It was unreasonable for her to feel irritated by Theo being Theo.

  And the definition of feeling irritated shouldn’t need to be changed to mean the flares of burning, twisting violence in Helena’s chest and stomach whenever the images taunted her. She’d spent three years seeing real-life images of Theo and his conveyor belt of women without feeling anything apart from the occasional flash of fury that ended the moment she’d scrunched the offending picture into a ball or shredded it into tiny pieces.

  In the early hours of the morning, afraid to close her eyes, waiting for the sun to rise and announce the new day, she felt a violence in her stomach that had made her feel capable of ripping someone’s head from their shoulders.

  It was a violence of emotion that frightened her and that not even an extra-long shower had washed out of her.

  To make her frazzled nerves worse, her cumulative lack of sleep had left her looking awful. It was one thing to look dreadful deliberately, but when it came naturally and involved puffy eyes, lank hair and dry skin as side-effects, her vanity cringed every time she caught her reflection. The icing on the cake had come in the form of Theo strolling into the dining room for breakfast with a spring in his step, looking as if he’d had a full eight hours of sleep. Again, he was dressed for the sun in shorts and polo shirt while Helena was dressed in her uniform of skirt and blouse. He hadn’t shaved but still looked and smelled as fresh as the morning sun.

  It wasn’t fair. Theo had everything. He’d always had everything—a life of luxury, his choice of women, unlimited funds...

  But he’d known tragedy. His mother’s death from cancer, followed three months later by his father’s fatal heart attack not long after he’d turned eighteen, had devastated him. He’d been as close to them as a son and his parents could be. Being an only child, he’d inherited the lot, become a multimillionaire while still in his teens. Using that inheritance, he’d quickly established himself as a party animal, then just as quickly established himself as a maverick businessman. Within five years he’d turned those millions into billions.

  The sound of approaching footsteps brought Helena up short from her reverie and she blinked herself back into focus, pushed her glasses up her nose and poised herself over her paperwork.

  Theo, huge mug of black coffee in his hand, stepped into Helena’s office. It took a few moments for her to acknowledge his presence but one look at the colour on her face and the tucking of hair behind both ears proved how flustered his appearance made her.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ he asked, closing the door behind him.

  Cheeks flaming, she somehow managed to find yet more hair to tuck. ‘Fine. I have more things to discuss if you have five minutes.’ Her words came out in a rush.

  ‘Of course.’ He propped himself on her desk beside her, making sure not to sit close enough for complaint but close enough to disturb her equilibrium a little. This was a balancing act he’d been playing all week to great success.

  She reached forward for her notepad, her blouse loosening a touch around the top of her breasts. His vantage point gave him the briefest glimpse of creamy cleavage but it was as tantalising as if she’d left the blouse undone.

  Speaking briskly, she said, ‘The first thing I wanted to discuss is the location of the outdoor swimming pool. My advice would be to change it.’

  Theo forced his attention away from her breasts. Helena made some excellent points about privacy from passing boats and yachts that hadn’t occurred to him and resulted in them settling on the pool’s location elsewhere, followed by a brief discussion about the location of the summer house—also to be designed by Helena—that was to be built close by. Theo loved to host parties and his pool and summer house and all the space in between would be the perfect party location. The grounds surrounding the house would all flow from the swimming pool and he admired the fact that she’d picked up on that and understood what he wanted to create. Their late-night talks when they’d dreamed up their perfect house had only been about the interior. It took much effort not to mention sunbathing naked, just to have the pleasure of watching her squirm, but, after their first site visit, he’d decided to change tactics. If Helena wanted him to keep a cool, professional distance in working hours then that was what he’d give her.

  Her initial perplexity when he failed to deliver any double entendres, even when a subject was crying out for it, or when he restrained himself from making any salacious comment whatsoever had amused him greatly. Every evening, without fail, he politely asked if she would like to sail away with him for some fun. He never spelt out what that fun would entail—Helena’s imagination was perfectly capable of dreaming that up itself—which meant he got the pleasure of watching her cheeks flush and her eyes pulse as she fought her own longing to say yes.

  Did she realise that every time she spoke to him, she tilted towards him? Did she realise that she fidgeted her way through every conversation? Was she aware that her breath hitched whenever he walked past her? Was she aware that at that very moment her hands trembled?

  ‘The next thing I wanted to discuss is the kitchen,’ she said, moving the conversation on.

  ‘What about it?’ he asked lightly.

  She tugged at the sheets of paper he’d placed his backside on. ‘You’re sitting on my notes.’

  ‘My apologies.’ Sliding smoothly off the desk, he went and sat on the chair on the other side of her desk. ‘Is this better?’ But she didn’t respond. Her eyes were on his, wide and stark, her fidgety body suddenly frozen. ‘Helena?’

  She blinked at the mention of her name and quickly looked down at her freed notes.

  ‘Yes. The kitchen.’ Despite Helena’s best efforts, her voice sounded all wrong.

  It had been hard enough to breathe with Theo propped on her desk beside her—when he’d first perched himself there she’d feared her heart would explode out of her chest—but when he’d moved off she’d had to fist her hands to stop them from grabbing hold of him. Now he was sitting opposite her and she’d caught a sudden glimpse of his golden chest beneath the collar of his polo shirt, and in the breath of a moment her insides had turned to
mush.

  It shouldn’t be like this, she thought despairingly. She’d spent three months under Theo’s intoxicating spell, riding the rollercoaster of her life. He’d had the ability to make her forget everything that mattered. Under his spell she’d believed all she needed was Theo in her life to be happy. She was sure her mother had once believed the same thing before she’d sold her soul to a monster. Theo wasn’t a monster like Helena’s father but his power over Helena had been just as strong.

  How could she still react so strongly to him? She’d believed the sudden detonation of their relationship had killed her feelings for him but she saw now that she’d been hiding them, hiding them so deep inside that she’d forgotten how powerful they were until one look at him in the Staffords boardroom had seen them poke their heads out from dormancy. Now the old feelings were slapping her in the face, taunting her, and it was getting harder and harder to fight them.

  Eyes now determinedly fixed on the papers on her desk, she rubbed the nape of her neck, cleared her throat and tried again. ‘We need to discuss the kitchen’s layout. Do you still want to consult a professional chef about it?’

  She knew the moment she said it that she’d made a mistake.

  Something sparked in his eyes. He leaned forwards a little, a satisfied smile spreading over his face. ‘You do remember.’

  ‘Only that neither of us can cook.’ She quickly fixed her gaze back on her notes, aware her face was flaming with colour.

  ‘But you asked—specifically—if I still wanted to consult a chef about the kitchen... What else do you remember?’

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and wrote something nonsensical on her notepad. ‘Have you a chef in mind to consult?’

  ‘Answer my question.’

  Her hand was shaking too much to write anything else.

  ‘Helena.’

  ‘What?’ Helena intended for her one-syllable question to come out as a challenge. She might have succeeded if her voice hadn’t cracked.