The Greek Tycoon's Mistress

“Stop fighting me, Leandra, and let me give you the pleasure I know you ache for.”

His voice was low and sensual. She felt the fire flickering along her veins, stealing her sanity. She tried to fight it, but she couldn’t. The noose of his dark eyes had caught her, and she was helpless.

What was the point of trying to fight him—fight herself? Ever since she had laid eyes on him, Theo Atrides had set a flame alight within her—one she had never known existed, one she could not douse.

She had tried to douse it, dear God, how she had tried! She had tried to hate him, and despise him. She had tried yelling at him and ignoring him. She had wept and she had blushed.

But it was all for nothing. She knew that now.

The dark allure that was Theo Atrides held her in thrall.

Harlequin Presents has an exciting new author….

The Greek Tycoon’s Mistress

is the outstanding first novel from Julia James.

It’s highly sensual and very intense!

Theo Atrides has met his match, and

he’s decided he has to have Leandra…whatever that takes!

They’re the men who have everything—

except a bride…

The Greek Tycoon’s Mistress

Julia James

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

THEO ATRIDES narrowed his dark eyes. Fabulously wealthy, dangerous to cross, he was unfairly blessed with a sexual magnetism that had as much to do with the aura of raw power that surrounded him as the physical attributes with which he was so shamelessly endowed.

He paused at the head of the flight of wide-sweeping stairs, looking down into the hotel’s crowded banqueting suite. It was a sea of men in black tie, women in rainbow evening dress. Chandeliers caught the glitter of jewels everywhere.

From his vantage point, like an eagle poised in its eyrie, Theo let his alert gaze systematically quarter the throng below, searching with steady purpose. Suddenly he stilled. Beneath the silk-smooth covering of his superbly tailored tuxedo, his tall, powerfully built frame tensed.

Yes, they were there! Both of them.

It was the woman he studied, and as he did so his jaw tightened.

She was dressed to kill. Of that there was no doubt. His expert eye looked her over. Medium height, with a figure both slender and generous—and very, very much on show. Blonde hair cascaded down her bare back in rippling waves. Her skin was pale, like an opalescent pearl against the thigh-length little black dress which dipped so low over the swelling orbs of her breasts that only their delicate tips were veiled by the clinging satin. Likewise, her pert little bottom was tightly, and barely, sheathed, while shimmering stockings covered her legs from exposed thigh to provocative black satin stiletto heels.

A perfect package. So skimpily wrapped. So tempting to unwrap.

She laughed, throwing her head back, letting that fabulous fall of hair ripple down that naked back, exposing the tender line of her throat, the dazzle of diamonds hanging from the succulent morsels of her earlobes.

Theo couldn’t even see her face yet, and already he felt his loins tightening. Hardening.

The rush of sensual pleasure of his own ultra-masculine reaction warred with a hard, tight shaft, not of desire, but anger, mingling explosively. Women like that were trouble. Especially for the men they caught in their toils.

He should know…

Slowly, he began to walk down the wide sweep of stairs.

Leandra had never felt more naked in her life. With every breath she feared that her breasts would finally escape her low-cut bodice completely, and every movement of her legs would make the tight sheath of her skirt ride up over her bottom. Chris must have been mad to make her wear a dress like this!

But he had been adamant that she should look as brazenly sexy as she could, or there was no point in any of this charade at all.

Even so, she hated the way she looked in the tarty get-up!

She took a quick but deep, controlled breath—the same technique she used to subdue stage fright. For that was all this was, Leandra reminded herself—a stage performance. Certainly a glitzy charity gala at one of London’s top hotels was not her customary stamping ground.

She was more used to pub theatres and grimy green rooms—the usual lot of a struggling actress. Now, thanks to Chris, she was standing beside a handsome young Greek millionaire—and almost sick with nerves.

Demos Atrides, who ran the UK subsidiary of the vast Atrides business empire, turned to her with a reassuring smile. She gave him a wide smile back, the way her role demanded.

She liked him a lot, and not just because of Chris. For all his wealth Demos was very diffident—he needed Chris’s buoyant confidence to keep his spirits up, Leandra knew. She wasn’t the only one dreading the coming confrontation.

Would their charade be convincing? Leandra swallowed. She mustn’t be the one to let them down—after all, she was the professional actress.

Demos’s light touch on her arm made her start slightly.

‘He’s here,’ he said in his soft, mellifluous voice, the Greek accent distinct. As was the tension in his face.

Leandra drew in her breath. ‘Here goes,’ she said, and wished herself luck.

As he approached them Theo Atrides felt his mood darken. He didn’t want to be here, but his grandfather Milo had insisted. As patriarch of the Atrides clan he was used to getting his own way. That was why, Theo knew, Milo was taking it so hard that his younger grandson refused to come to heel.

Not that it was like Demos to cause trouble. He’d always done everything Theo had asked of him, running the London office diligently and competently. His affairs had always been conducted with discretion; even Theo knew nothing about them.

Why make such a fuss about this one?

Theo’s mouth thinned. The reason was right in front of him. Blonde, lush and very, very sexy. No wonder his little cousin didn’t want to come home and marry Sofia Allessandros, the bride Milo had chosen for him. What man would want to give up a mistress like this?

Demos Atrides felt the heavy hand on his shoulder, and for a moment it felt like the clap of doom. Then he recovered.

‘Theo!’ he exclaimed, with a forced expression of delight. ‘It’s good to see you. My PA told me you’d phoned from the jet to ask where I’d be tonight.’ He glanced beyond his cousin. ‘Where is Milo?’

‘Resting,’ returned his cousin tersely. ‘The flight was a strain. You shouldn’t have made it necessary, Demos.’

The words were a reproof, and Demos coloured slightly.

‘There was no need for him to come,’ he replied defensively.

‘Wasn’t there?’

Deliberately Theo shifted his focus to the woman hanging on to Demos’s arm like a gilded limpet. As his eyes lit full on her face for the first time he felt, like an electric shock, a response that was like a kick in the gut.

For a moment his brain churned. She wasn’t in the least what he’d been expecting from what he’d seen of her so far. He’d assumed that the brazenly sexy body would be accompanied by nothing more than a vacuous expression and an avaricious nature.

Instead, a pair of intelligent amber-coloured eyes flashed up at him, deep-set and lustrous, catching him with an unexpected beauty despite being caked in eyeshadow and their lashes clotted with too much mascara. Something showed in their depths, but before his scrambled brain could identify it it was gone. Theo dismissed it, and went on studying the rest of her face. It was layered in make-up, far too much of it, but the excess could not camouflage the height of her cheekbones and the fine, straight line of her nose. Nor could the sticky scarlet lipstick disguise the tender curve of her mouth.

Theo suddenly felt an odd desire to take a tissue and sweep away the acres of gunk smeared all over her extraordinary natural beauty…

For a moment, the merest instant, something stirred in him that had nothing to do with his immediate and all too easily identifiable reaction to the lush physical charms of the woman in front of him. Something that disturbed him—moved him…

He snapped his mind away. It didn’t matter an iota what he thought of Demos’s mistress. It only mattered that he got his cousin away from her and back to Athens and his engagement to Sofia Allessandros.

It was what everyone expected—especially Milo. He was desperate to see the next Atrides generation secure. He had never, Theo knew, recovered from the tragedy that had almost overwhelmed the family eight years ago, when both his sons and their wives had been killed when the Atrides jet had crashed. Theo himself had hardly had time to grieve. At the age of twenty-four he had found himself single-handedly in charge of the entire Atrides business empire as Milo suffered a near-fatal stroke at the loss of his sons. Business rivals, seeing the Atrides clan so stricken, had swooped.

Theo had fought them off, swiftly becoming battle hardened, and now, at thirty-two, the Atrides empire was stronger and wealthier than ever. No one dared challenge its ruthless boss these days.

All it needed now was a new heir for the next generation—Milo was right.

But it would not be Theo who provided one.

Marriage was not for Theo. Never would be.

If anyone was going to give Milo the great-grandsons he craved, it would have to be Demos—and Sofia Allessandros. As for the foxy piece clinging to Demos’s arm—well, she’d just have to look for another rich lover!

His eyes swept over her again. With looks like that it shouldn’t take her long to find one…

Leandra stared at the man looking her over with those dark, heavy-lidded eyes. Just stared. Oh, good grief, but he was devastating! Absolutely devastating! She’d heard enough about Big Bad Cousin Theo from Demos, heaven knew. He wasn’t just a tough, ruthless businessman.

Women flocked around Theo Atrides, and he helped himself to the ones he wanted, sampled them, then discarded them for fresh sweetmeats. Leandra could see why—and it was not, definitely not, just because he was stinking rich. Theo Atrides could have pulled women by the bucketload without a drachma to his name!

Leandra felt herself helpless under the impact of his sheer physical presence, from the commanding height of his six-foot-plus frame to the subtle but heady scent of his aftershave mingled with raw, potent maleness. The photos she’d seen of him—family shots in Demos’s apartment, glossy spreads in celebrity magazines—whilst capturing his eye-catching good looks, had not prepared her for the real Theo Atrides. Let alone for his effect on her.

She’d blithely assumed, because she was totally unattracted by Demos’s looks, that she’d be as immune to his cousin’s.

Oh, boy, what a mistake! Theo Atrides’s features were much stronger, his eyes keen and hooded, darker than his twenty-six-year-old cousin’s and far, far more knowing. His nose was a strong slash, his cheekbones powerful and high, and his jaw might have been hewn with a chisel. His mouth had none of Demos’s fullness, but was wide and mobile and, Leandra registered with a hollow feeling, a million times sexier…

In fact, in just about every atom of his being, Theo Atrides was a million times sexier than his cousin.

And a million times more dangerous. In an act of unconscious self-preservation Leandra veiled her assessing eyes, adopting instead the vacuous expression of a bimbo that fitted the charade she was acting out. Doing so had its compensations. It allowed her to look him over just the way she wanted to—needed to.

Not that he’d look twice at her. All his women, however briefly they lasted, were either celebrities in their own right—a couple of supermodels, an opera singer and an Oscar-winning movie star sprang effortlessly to mind—or else they were blue-blooded scions of Europe’s cosmopolitan aristocracy and America’s Wall Street plutocrats.

Except that he was looking at her. Theo Atrides was looking her over very, very thoroughly, with all the expertise of a practised connoisseur of the very best in female beauty.

It was a nerve-tingling experience.

As she felt, almost physically, those dark, knowing eyes wash over her, Leandra could feel her legs jellify. Her breath had frozen solid in her throat, making it impossible to breathe. Her heart, it seemed, slewed to a stop in her chest and her eyes were stretched so wide she must be goggling. Then, just as she started to go into complete meltdown under his blatantly sexual appraisal, she realised she could see contempt openly sitting in his eyes. It was obvious what he thought of a woman dressed as revealingly as she was.

Two impulses warred within her. One was to grab the nearest tablecloth and cover herself up. The other was to slap his face so hard it would spin the stars for him!

Of course she did neither—she could not afford to.

Instead, she behaved in the way that her role in this elaborate charade required her to behave. Badly.

‘Demos,’ she husked, pressing into his side more closely, unconsciously seeking his protection from such an arrant sexual predator, ‘who is this gorgeous, gorgeous man?’

Leandra’s voice was slightly breathy. It was not entirely put on. Her body was out of control, reacting to this man’s presence in ways she had only ever read about, never experienced. It was a mix of terrifying and exhilarating.

Demos opened his mouth to answer, but was forestalled.

‘Theo Atrides,’ murmured his cousin. His voice had dropped a register and taken on a deep, dark husk of its own, heavy with his drawling Greek accent. The raw sexiness of it made Leandra’s toes curl, accompanied as it was by a kilowatt’s worth of sexual charge blazing through eyes which were suddenly, devastatingly, heavy-lidded and half closed.

He turned to Demos.

‘And this is…?’ He paused expectantly, the purring note still deep in his voice.

His appeal to his cousin sent a frisson of waspish anger through Leandra. Doesn’t he think me capable of answering for myself? she thought indignantly.

‘Leandra,’ supplied Demos. He said her name reluctantly.

‘Ross—’ completed Leandra, with the very slightest bite to her voice.

‘Leandra,’ echoed Theo Atrides drawlingly, ignoring the irrelevance of her surname. Women like her had no need of anything other than a first name—preferably something exotic.

‘You are very lovely, Leandra.’ He paused infinitesimally. ‘Very lovely. All over.’

The heavy-lidded dark eyes washed over her. She felt they were stripping off every last vestige of clothing. Then he helped himself to her hand.

His touch was as electric as his look. To her shame, Leandra believed that she actually trembled as he made contact.

His hand was large and smooth. Warm and strong. And very powerful. Hers looked pale and fragile within its olive-tanned grasp.

Leisurely, Theo lifted her scarlet-tipped, freshly manicured fingers to his lips. But instead of grazing her knuckles in a courtly fashion, as Leandra was steeling herself to expect, he turned her hand over to expose her palm and bent his head.

As his lips touched her flesh she felt them part slightly. Then, in a caress that exploded every nerve-ending in her palm, they laved her skin softly and sensuously. She felt a prickle of arousal all over her body, delicious and enticing. Warm, liquid coils of heat pooled in her veins. Then suddenly, shockingly, she felt the tip of his tongue flicker exploringly at the junctions of her fingers.

Shock, outrage and a sizzle of raw sexual excitement electrified her, searing the breath in her fractured lungs. She couldn’t move even as he released her from his shockingly intimate caress.

She grabbed her hand back into her own possession. It felt as if every nerve-ending in it had been set on fire, humming like flame racing along her veins. For one long, overwhelming moment she felt as if the world was whirling round her, and the only still point was the flare of sensation echoing in her hand.

Her lips parted and she stared, helplessly, at Theo Atrides.

He smiled down at her. A warm, intimate smile. A knowing, indulgent smile. A dangerous, sexy smile.

Almost, almost she felt herself moving blindly towards him, to press herself up against his lean, hard body and give herself to him absolutely. He was like a powerful magnet sucking her towards him.

But she had to resist. She must! She was here to play his cousin’s mistress—nothing more. Forcibly she relaxed her muscles, and by sheer effort of will—still reeling from the sensual onslaught of Theo Atrides’s terrifyingly skilful, insolent mouth on her exposed, defenceless skin—she managed to pull her body back from leaning into his.

Thee mou, thought Theo, as she drew back with obvious reluctance, the girl couldn’t have come on stronger if she’d given him her telephone number! She’d all but gone up in flames for him! What the hell would she be like if he got her horizontal?

A sudden, overpowering image of her lying beneath him, naked and aching for him, yielding her body to him with soft moans, filled his mind with devastating, vivid clarity. He thrust it aside brutally. This was no time to get the hots for a woman who was threatening the stability of his family and its very future! All her sizzling reaction to his deliberate sexual provocation had proved was that, whatever she felt for Demos, it wasn’t anything that stopped her lighting up for any other man. The faithful type she wasn’t!

He turned back to his cousin.

As his attention snapped off Leandra wondered why she felt bereft, instead of relieved—as if a source of heat suddenly turned off had revealed how cold she had been feeling.

All her life.

In a daze she tried to make herself concentrate on what Theo was saying to his cousin. It was hard, because her brain felt like mush.

‘So,’ Theo said to Demos, his deep voice sounding amused, ‘this is what is keeping you in London so long, I see! I can’t say I’m surprised, now I’ve met this delicious morsel of female flesh—’ His eyes worked over Leandra once more, so brazenly she felt her stomach drop even as anger leapt in her throat at such a description. ‘But,’ he went on, holding up a hand peremptorily and focusing back on his cousin, ‘all good things come to an end, Demos. Sofia is waiting for you. It’s time to come home.’

Leandra could feel Demos tense.

‘I’m not ready,’ he replied tersely. His usually mild voice sounded strained.

‘Then be ready,’ said Theo unforgivingly. He reached out and closed his hand around his cousin’s shoulder, turning him slightly away from Leandra as if she were an intruder on the scene.

He switched to Greek, reinforcing her exclusion.

‘Milo’s on the way out, Demos. It’s only a matter of time. His doctors know it and he knows it. He’s old—he’s had too much to bear in his life—don’t do this to him. Come home and get engaged to Sofia. It’s all he asks. He needs to know that the next generation is assured—you can’t blame him for being anxious. He knows, Christos, he knows, just how uncertain life is! He needs to know that a great-grandson could be on the way soon—he needs an heir.’

He spoke rapidly, in a low voice.

Stiffly, Demos answered. ‘Milo has two grandsons, Theo. Why don’t you oblige?’

Theo’s jaw tightened. ‘I’m not the marrying kind, little cousin.’

For a second something showed in Demos’s eyes.

‘And suppose I’m not either?’ he said.

There was something in Demos’s voice that stayed his cousin. Theo looked at him narrowly.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asked slowly.

For a long moment Demos just looked across at him, as if he was going to say something. Then, with a fling of his hand, he shook Theo off his shoulder.

‘It means I’m having too much fun to want to settle down! I’m not ready to marry anyone, let alone Sofia Allessandros!’ An urgent note entered his voice. ‘Make Milo see that, Theo. Make him!’

Anger lashed through Theo. Anger at both of them—Milo for wanting to arrange other people’s lives because he was taking leave of his own, and Demos for insisting on living his own life when he had responsibilities to meet!

And most of all anger, irrational but powerful, against the girl plastered against Demos—the cause of all this trouble.

He wanted out of this! He hadn’t wanted to come here, and now he was here he wanted to wash his hands of the whole business. He wanted to get away—away from the endless demands of family, of business—go some place where all he had to do was gaze out over the blue Aegean, hear the cicadas calling, inhale the heady scent of the maquis, feel the zephyred wind from the south on his body.

With a soft, compliant woman in his arms…

Like the one at Demos’s side…

He gave a rasp in his throat, banishing the dangerously enticing vision.

‘Enough!’ His hand slashed the air with a short, brusque slash. ‘I’ll expect you tomorrow, Demos. Milo wants to see you at nine. We’re in the penthouse suite here. Be on time.’ He eyed his cousin darkly, his harsh gaze sweeping out to Leandra. ‘And get some sleep tonight!’ he finished, reverting to English.

His eyes flickered briefly over her face. The expression in them made her want to hit him. His thoughts were naked. With a woman like her at his side what man would want to sleep?

He, for one, could think of a thousand better things to do with her—

He snapped his mind away again. The woman was an irrelevance.

Soon her brief intrusion into his family affairs would be over—permanently.

Demos Atrides opened the door to his apartment and ushered Leandra inside. Immediately she was tightly enveloped in a bear hug.

‘Well,’ demanded the extremely handsome blond embracing her with long familiarity. ‘How did it go? Did he show?’

Leandra extricated herself, tossing her evening bag on the silk-covered sofa, and kicked off one of her high heels. Her feet were killing her. She said nothing. She didn’t think she could for the moment.

‘Oh, yes, he showed all right,’ said Demos behind her. His voice was tight.

‘And?’ demanded the other young man. ‘Did he fall for it?’

Demos gave a short laugh, displaying the tension he was still under.

‘Hook, line and sinker—isn’t that what you say?’

The blond laughed, showing an expanse of gleaming white teeth in a brilliant smile that lit his handsome face. Leandra laughed too, but hers was short, with an edge to it.

‘With the emphasis on hook—as in hooker,’ she said bitingly. ‘God, Chris.’ She kicked off her other shoe and flexed her aching ankles. ‘Thanks to that dress you poured me into, Theo Atrides looked at me like I was some kind of tart!’