Contracted To Her Greek Enemy / Crowning His Unlikely Princess

Her breath eased out. There it was, the payment. Half today and half in eight weeks.

And there was her other stipulation.

No kiss on the lips unless specifically verbally invited by Ms Logan.

What an ego this guy had! As if she’d ever invite him to kiss her.

Steph frowned. No kiss on the lips. Surely she’d stipulated no kissing at all? Then she recalled saying ‘No lip locks’. She reached for the pen. Should she change it?

‘Is there a problem?’

She looked up to see Damen, hands in his trouser pockets, wearing a bland expression she suspected hid boredom. There was nothing in his expression that hinted at attraction. All he cared about was convincing people he had a new lover. It was a business deal, nothing else.

Why quibble over terminology? Over a kiss on the lips as opposed to any kiss? Damen wasn’t interested in her kisses.

With a determined smile Steph picked up the pen and signed the contract.

‘Excellent.’ Damen nodded and drew out his phone. ‘I’ll organise the transfer of funds.’

See? It was easy and straightforward.

Soon Gran would have the home she wanted and a comfortable nest egg too, and Steph would be free of debt.

So why did her neck tingle with a premonition that this wouldn’t be safe or easy after all?

CHAPTER FOUR

DAMEN STEPPED ONTO the main deck of his yacht and paused. He’d searched for Stephanie through half the vessel till a crew member mentioned she was outside. Now he saw her, barefoot and compellingly attractive in cut-off white jeans and a red-and-white-striped top.

Usually his girlfriends wore designer labels and regularly checked their hair and make-up. Stephanie didn’t bother with make-up and her clothes didn’t come from exclusive boutiques. Yet too often he found himself watching her, unable to look away.

He couldn’t put his finger on why she drew him. She was attractive rather than beautiful. Engaging. Appealing.

She leaned out, drinking in the view as they came into Athens, curls lifting in the breeze and every line of her body straining forward in excitement. A smile lit her face.

A smile she rarely turned on him.

A now familiar sensation stirred. It was a mix of appreciation, anticipation and annoyance. Though he’d given her time, choosing to sail rather than fly from Corfu to the capital, she was still guarded around him.

That wouldn’t do if Manos was to believe they were lovers.

Besides, her cool distance rankled. He was used to fending off women, not exerting himself to draw them closer.

Maybe Stephanie Logan was good for him. Clio always said he had it easy with women.

Not this woman.

At least she wasn’t trying to engage his interest, as so many other women had. Yet there had to be a happy medium.

There’d been a couple of memorable times when her defences had tumbled. Like when they’d stopped off the island of Kefalonia for some snorkelling and a sea turtle had swum by. Stephanie had been so delighted she’d grabbed Damen’s arm, her face wreathed in smiles.

For the rest of that sojourn he’d basked in her warmth and enthusiasm, enjoying the camaraderie and, he admitted, her approval as he shared his knowledge about the species and efforts being made to protect them.

That was the way she needed to be with him if they were to seem like lovers. No more tiptoeing around each other.

Damen had given her time. He’d waited long enough.

He stepped into the sunshine and felt a fillip of anticipation as Stephanie swung towards him. As if she was as attuned to his presence as he was to hers.

Her eyes ate him up and answering arousal kick-started in his belly. Then, as usual, her expression smoothed out, turning bland. But Damen focused on that moment of unguarded awareness. Despite her disapproval there was still attraction.

That was what they needed to persuade Manos. Damen intended to tap into it, starting now.

‘Kopela mou! There you are.’ He strolled to her side and wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close.

Stephanie froze, her head swinging up. ‘What are you doing?’ Her whisper was fierce.

‘Beginning our liaison, sweetheart. What else?’ He settled his hand on her hip and bent closer, enjoying her little shiver of response. He’d been right. For all her disapproval, Stephanie felt this attraction too. His mouth curved in a lazy smile. ‘We’re in Athens, or almost, and any one of those vessels you’re watching could have curious eyes turned this way.’

His gesture encompassed the traffic in and out of the busy port. ‘The Amphitrite is well known and there’s money in selling photos of an elusive billionaire and his new lover.’

‘Photos?’ Her eyes widened as she turned to stare at the harbour. ‘You mean the paparazzi keep you under surveillance?’ Her voice sounded brittle with shock.

Had he just destroyed an innocent’s illusions? But it was better she was prepared for the inevitable media speculation. An unknown Australian, appearing at his side out of nowhere, would provoke interest.

Was that why he’d been so determined it should be Stephanie at his side? To get maximum coverage for this masquerade?

It was convenient to think so but Damen knew his motives were more complex. More personal.

‘There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ll protect you. They won’t invade our privacy.’ Or they’d suffer the consequences. ‘Especially if we provide some photo opportunities.’

He turned, curling his index finger under her chin and lifting her face towards his.

To her credit she didn’t shy away, but nor did she look lover-like. If there was a photographer out there with a telephoto lens they would see his companion wary rather than enthusiastic. He needed to remedy that, quickly.

Steph told herself there was nothing to be nervous about in broad daylight on the open sea. Except the idea of hidden cameras trained on them sent tension darting through her. Plus Damen’s expression did little to reassure.

He barely touched her, yet the warmth of the skin-to-skin touch felt intimate. It was a lover’s caress.

No other man had touched her like this.

There’d been no lovers. Her early experiences, with a stressed, distracted mother and an absent father who never kept his promises had made her wary of emotional intimacy. And from her teens on she’d put in long hours working while her peers partied. The closest she’d come to letting down her guard and giving in to passion had been with Damen Nicolaides.

How he’d gloat if he knew! It would feed his already enormous ego.

‘What are you doing?’ Was that reedy voice hers?

‘Providing a photo opportunity.’ His mouth kicked up at one side, driving a groove down his cheek that was ridiculously sexy. Or maybe it was his intense stare that was sexy, as if he was aware of nothing but her.

Steph breathed out slowly, finding calm. The notion of Damen unaware of anything but her was laughable. This was an act for the benefit of the public. The realisation eased her racing pulse.

‘You really think there are paparazzi out there?’

He shrugged. ‘Probably. It pays to be careful. From now on it’s best we act in character.’

In character.

As lovers, he means.

Steph gulped and told herself she could do this. She had to. She’d accepted a great wad of his money and it was currently being used to purchase Gran’s new home.

Yet now it came to the crunch, with his body a mere hand span away and his breath feathering her face, the warning voice Steph had ignored for days became strident.

‘What is it, Stephanie?’ Damen actually sounded concerned, which made her wonder what he read in her face.

She tried to smooth her expression. ‘This is tougher than I expected.’

Because in his embrace she felt things she’d vowed she wouldn’t. Even knowing this was a charade, it was hard not to respond to the evocative tenderness of his touch and the hint of blatant possessiveness.

That scared her. Steph didn’t want to be possessed by any man. She was her own woman. She’d learned never to be reliant and had no intention of forgetting that lesson, especially after the way Damen had made a fool of her.

‘You’ve got cold feet?’ His fingers tightened on her waist and a crease was carved between those ebony eyebrows. ‘It’s too late. You signed a contract.’

His voice was terse, at odds with the lingering hint of a smile.

The disparity chilled her, sending a shiver scudding down her backbone. It was proof that appearances and embraces could lie. They had before with this man.

‘Of course I’ve got cold feet. I’m not used to living a lie. But,’ she said when he opened his mouth, ‘I won’t go back on my word.’

Especially since she no longer had the money he’d paid her.

‘I knew I could count on you.’ His voice dropped a notch, burring like rough suede across her bare neck and arms.

That, too, was a lie. That hint of desire in his voice. Yet some fatally feminine part of her responded, secretly thrilled.

Steph swallowed.

She was in trouble. Deep trouble.

But there was no escape.

His face tilted and his hand glided along to her jaw, her cheek, brushing her unruly hair back. She’d been too busy before she came to Greece and a hairdresser had been an unnecessary expense. She wished she’d had her hair cut short again, as strong fingers tunnelled through her curls, massaging her scalp in delicious circles that loosened her tense shoulders.

Her blood thickened and slowed and she found herself leaning into his touch.

Not to convince unseen eyes that they were lovers, but because Damen’s touch was magic. Slow, sure and sensual, it mocked her determination to keep her distance.

He’d done this before, pretended attraction when there was none, yet even pride couldn’t make her pull away.

If she did he’d realise his touch bothered her.

She was caught whatever she did.

Steph opened her mouth to say something, anything to divert him into conversation, when that arm at her waist tightened and his head lowered.

For a second shock held her still, then her hands went to his broad chest, flat against hot muscle and thin cotton as she tried to hold him at a distance.

She needn’t have worried. He stopped a scant centimetre away, but his mouth was at her temple, lips scraping her skin as he spoke.

‘Try not to look fazed. We’re supposed to be lovers, remember?’

How could she forget?

With an effort that felt shockingly like no effort at all, Steph made her hands slide up his chest. Of their own volition they continued, curling around his neck. It felt hard and strong, the flesh there smooth and warm.

It was like the day he’d insisted she prove she could act the part of his lover. She’d made the first move, pleased with her boldness, until proximity to Damen made her body go soft and eager. As if it had been waiting to get close to him.

‘Much better,’ he purred against her forehead and to Steph’s dismay she felt the words like an unfurling ribbon that trailed down through her body.

‘You’re not supposed to kiss me,’ she protested, far too aware of the graze of his mouth.

The protest sounded limp, but she needed words to keep him at a distance when her body refused to obey her command not to melt against him.

‘Hardly a kiss, kopela mou.’ A pause and then he spoke again, his voice deeper than before. ‘You’d know it if I kissed you.’

She would indeed. She had perfect recall of the last time. Of how she’d thrown caution to the wind as their mouths fused and desire had quaked through her.

It had been wonderful and cataclysmic at the same time, leaving the defences she’d spent a lifetime constructing in ruins.

‘Not that I will, of course, given our contract.’ He paused. ‘Not without a specific, spoken invitation.’

Steph licked her lips. She was about to blurt out that she’d never give such an invitation, when instinct stopped the words. It would sound like a challenge and the last thing she needed was to provoke Damen Nicolaides into seeing this as a game of one-upmanship.

‘How long do we have to stay like this?’

She hitched a breath, conscious of his torso so close she could almost feel it abrading her budding nipples. Heat drenched her. She told herself it was a hot day and Damen held her too close. But Steph wasn’t that innocent. This heat came from deep inside. From the feminine core that gloried in being held by Damen. The part of her that had sprung to life once before in his arms.

That untamed, unthinking woman terrified her. She couldn’t let her loose. She had to keep control.

‘You make this sound like a chore, Stephanie.’ Once more his voice drifted low on her name to a note that settled in her bones.

Steph drew a deep breath then stilled when it brought her breasts into contact with Damen. Did she imagine a change in the tempo of his breath tickling her forehead? A tightening in the clasp of that hand at her waist?

She didn’t have time to be sure, for Damen stepped back, just enough to watch her with enigmatic eyes. For a moment she felt as if she were sinking out of her depth. Then his mouth crooked up in that slight smile she was coming to know and enjoy far too much.

‘But practice makes perfect and in Athens we’ll get plenty of practice.’

‘We will?’ Steph rubbed her palms together, trying to erase the tingling memory of his flesh against hers.

‘Of course. I have business here but we’ll go out too. Plenty of opportunities to be seen together.’

It was a timely reminder that this was for show. The closeness, his touch, the way his gaze lingered.

‘Will she be in Athens? The woman you were involved with?’

That cleared her head like a shower of ice water. The thought of the woman who was the reason for this charade. No matter what Damen said, she was clearly important to him.

Steph reserved judgement on whether the mystery woman was really just Damen’s friend or, more likely, his lover. Yet she felt something akin to dislike for the unknown woman.

Because Damen cared so much for her that he’d embark on this outrageous scheme?

It couldn’t be that. Steph wasn’t jealous.

‘That needn’t concern you.’ His hand dropped and the remnants of that satisfied smile disintegrated.

So she was in Athens. Would Steph meet her? Would she even know her if she did?

She folded her arms and looked straight back at that narrowed green stare.

‘This masquerade won’t work if you’re secretly meeting a lover on the side. Someone’s bound to find out—’

Damen shook his head and said something sharp in Greek. Steph didn’t need to understand the language to hear scorn and impatience.

‘How many times do I have to tell you she’s not my lover? I don’t have a lover!’ His voice rose as he made a dismissive gesture. ‘The only girlfriend I have is you, Stephanie.’

This was the second time she’d provoked an unguarded response from Damen. Steph told herself she shouldn’t be pleased at puncturing his formidable self-assurance. At seeing emotion flare in those heavy-lidded eyes. Yet she was. The sight made her feel less helpless, less a mere pawn caught in his machinations.

‘Careful, Damen.’ She wagged her finger. ‘If there are paparazzi out there, they’ll see you scowling at me. That would destroy the illusion you care about me before we start.’

Even if he did look dramatically sexy with those dark eyebrows scrunched and that strong jaw honed tight.

For a second he didn’t react. Then Damen surprised her with a crack of laughter, his face creasing into a smile of rueful amusement that tugged at something deep inside her.

‘What they’ll think is that we’ve had a spat. But that’s okay because it gives us the chance to make up, very publicly.’

His eyes danced and anticipation swirled through her at the thought of making up with Damen.

Till she realised what she was doing and slammed a brake on her thoughts.

She’d assumed a few days on his yacht would cement her dislike but her feelings for Damen were ambiguous. He got to her in a way no other man did. Even the way he insisted on using her full name, lingering on the syllables as if savouring them, unravelled her defences.

Steph leaned on the railing, needing to look at something other than this man who disturbed her so easily. She saw a marina filled with luxury yachts. Some almost as enormous and beautiful as the Amphitrite. Maybe there was some billionaire’s convention in town.

‘Are we staying on the yacht?’

Not that ‘yacht’ seemed the right word for a ship with its own helipad, cinema, glass-bottomed pool and umpteen guest suites.

Steph had been in awe, until Damen’s insistence that she was free to use anything she wanted, and the genuine friendliness of the staff, put her at ease. She’d earmarked a cosy corner of the library as her own and grown used to the state-of-the-art gym equipment. Playing the doting girlfriend would be easier if she could retreat to her comfortable stateroom.

‘No, we’ll head to my apartment.’

‘Just an apartment?’ She turned to look at him as he joined her at the railing, trying to hide her nerves. Suddenly this masquerade felt uncomfortably real. ‘You surprise me. I thought you’d have a posh town house.’

Actually, she hadn’t thought about it. The opulence of his superyacht had been a revelation. She’d known Damen was rich, but this level of wealth was far beyond her experience.

‘Sorry to disappoint.’ The curve of his mouth told her that her jab didn’t bother him. ‘But in Athens I find an apartment convenient. I’m sure you’ll find it comfortable.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ If his yacht was any indication it would be gorgeous and purpose built. He probably owned the rest of the building too.

‘And it’s convenient for shopping. I’ve had a list drawn up of the boutiques that might be best for you.’

‘That’s kind.’ If a little strange. ‘But I doubt I’ll be shopping.’

If she had time in Athens she intended to use it to see the sights she’d read about. Besides, the money she’d got from Damen had already been sent to Australia for Gran and to put towards the business debt Jared had left her with. The business loan still needed servicing even though there was now no business.

Damen’s eyebrows lifted. ‘You’ll need new clothes.’

Steph straightened, pushing her shoulders back. Her hackles rose. ‘Are you saying I don’t measure up to your exalted standards?’

Damen read the flash of heat in those wide brown eyes and felt a frisson of awareness.

It was like that each time he and Stephanie argued. Or touched.

Her pride and contrariness were a nuisance. Yet he relished each clash, revelled in the moments when Stephanie shared her feelings and thoughts instead of keeping her distance.

This was when he felt closest to the passionate woman who intrigued him despite his best intentions.

Logic said she could be trouble. But Damen had been careful and sensible for a long, long time. Would it be so wrong to give free rein to this attraction?

Damen shook his head. ‘Charming as your casual clothes are, they won’t do. You’re my girlfriend now.’

Though if she really were he’d be happy for her to dress as she did.

His gaze dropped to the cropped red and white top that barely reached her waist. She looked feisty, fresh and sexy. He’d found it almost impossible to keep his hand firm on the waistband of her jeans and not let it slide under the loose-fitting top to her warm flesh. Not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t want to spook her. She was already jittery.

As far as he personally was concerned, Stephanie didn’t need couture clothes. She was alluring whatever she wore. But this was about image.

Predictably her hands jammed onto her hips and her chin tilted. ‘Because your high-class friends wouldn’t believe we’re an item? Are you ashamed to be seen with me as I am?’

‘I’m not ashamed, Stephanie.’ It was something quite different he felt when he was with her.

Would she feel so confident surrounded by socialites wearing expensive fashions? This wasn’t just about looking good for the press but protecting Stephanie from condescension. Not from his friends or family. They wouldn’t care, but there’d be others who’d underrate her because of her simple clothing choices. Damen refused to put her in that position.

He sighed. Why must she make this tough? Pride he understood but surely she was eager to get spending.

‘Do you have an outfit for a wedding?’

Her brow crinkled. He could almost see her reviewing the contents of the single suitcase she’d brought.

‘Your bridesmaid’s dress is very attractive—’ that was a masterly understatement, given the effect the sight of her in it had on his libido ‘—but as my girlfriend you’d have something new for the wedding we’re attending at the end of next week.’

‘You didn’t mention a wedding.’

‘I’m mentioning it now. And there’ll be social events in Athens. The women will wear designer originals, high heels, jewellery, that sort of thing.’ He paused. ‘Have you got something suitable in your luggage?’

‘Of course not. I came for a relaxed holiday on Corfu.’

‘Then you’ll feel more comfortable with a new wardrobe.’

Her gaze drifted from his and colour rose in her cheeks. ‘I can’t afford designer clothes.’

Damen stared. He’d just deposited a million dollars in her account. Surely she could afford a couple of dresses?

The silence lengthened and his patience wore thin. Stephanie was playing this part for the money, he understood that, but was she intent on screwing every cent she could from him?

Memories stirred of another woman who’d milked him for cash. And he, young and besotted, hadn’t seen her for what she was till it was almost too late.

Damen’s jaw gritted, his nostrils flaring in disdain as the woman before him stood silent, her eyes not quite meeting his.

So much for believing her to be difficult but fundamentally honest. It seemed she too was grasping when it came to getting her hands on his money.

He bent in a mocking bow, hiding his disappointment with a grim smile. ‘Then allow me, kopela mou. I’ll buy the clothes you need. But I reserve a buyer’s right to choose.’ His smile widened. ‘It will be a pleasure, dressing you.’

CHAPTER FIVE

STEPHANIE MET THAT glittering stare and wolfish smile and felt about an inch tall. Damen made her feel like a commodity he’d bought for his pleasure.

He talked about dressing her but the rapacious gleam in his eyes spoke of undressing.

She swallowed the knot of discomfort blocking her throat. He was aiming to unsettle her because she’d annoyed him. Fortunately she was wise to the fact his supposed attraction was a sham.

That didn’t make her feel better.

It didn’t take a genius to see Damen thought she angled to get whatever she could from this deal. He thought her a gold-digger.

She opened her mouth to explain then stopped. She had no intention of explaining the tangle of her financial affairs to this incredibly successful businessman. If she said she no longer had the money he’d pepper her with questions. The fiasco of her failed business venture, stolen funds and, above all, her grandmother’s precarious financial position because she’d trusted Steph—no, she wasn’t ready to share all that.

Pride rescued her.

‘Thanks, Damen. I’m quite capable of choosing an outfit for a wedding. Though you have the right of veto, since this is your scheme and you know the people.’ Anxiety shimmered through her at the thought of parading in unfamiliar finery amongst a crowd of sophisticates, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. Steph wasn’t and never would be a glamazon. She knew what she looked good in but her knowledge of designer originals was zero. ‘Other than that, I’ll get by with what I’ve brought.’