The Millionaire's Virgin

‘I don’t think so,’ she said now, bestowing a slightly warmer smile on the waiter when he came to remove her barely touched plate. ‘No, it was fine,’ she assured him when he expressed his concern. Then, looking at Nikolas again, she said, ‘I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.’

‘No time is ever wasted,’ he responded, his brooding expression giving the lie to his words. ‘At least think about it, Paige. I shall be in London for a few more days and you can always contact me via this number.’ He drew out a card and scrawled some figures on the back before pushing it across the table towards her. ‘Take it.’

Somewhat against her better judgement, Paige reached for the card, but as she did so Nikolas covered her hand with his, successfully imprisoning her fingers within his cool grasp. And, although she made a futile attempt to free herself, she knew she had no real chance of competing with his strength.

‘Think about it. Please,’ he begged softly, and Paige was overwhelmed by the sensual appeal in his voice.

Dear God, she thought, dragging her eyes away from his to gaze unsteadily at the powerful fist encasing hers. A fiery warmth was spreading up her arm and invading every quivering pore of her slender frame, and no matter how she tried to rationalise her reaction she knew her body hadn’t forgotten anything about this man. It remembered; her skin remembered; and that was something she had never expected.

Eventually, he was obliged to let her draw her hand away and she cradled it in her lap, as if it had been abused. That was what it felt like, she thought shakily, the vibration his touch had evoked still rippling through her veins. She just prayed he wasn’t aware of her upheaval.

Somehow she got through the next few minutes. Although she didn’t want it, she agreed to coffee in lieu of a pudding, and endeavoured to come to terms with the fact that she had more than one reason for refusing his offer. Even if it was the only offer that came her way, she couldn’t work for him. Apart from anything else, she didn’t want to be hurt again, and Nikolas Petronides would have no qualms about recovering what he saw as his pound of flesh…

CHAPTER TWO

PAIGE caught the Underground back to Islington. At this time of the afternoon, the trains weren’t busy, and after finding herself a seat she reflected how quickly she’d adapted to using the Tube instead of taking taxis everywhere.

All the same, it had been raining when she’d left the restaurant, and she’d had to resist Nikolas’s offer to get a taxi for her. Although it was June, the weather was still unseasonably cold, and the pretty cream Chanel suit she’d worn to impress Martin was now dotted with damp patches.

She just hoped it didn’t pick up any dirt on the way home. She and Sophie were having to conserve what clothes they had, and it had been quite a drain on their meagre resources outfitting her sister with clothes for her new school.

She sighed. If only their father were still alive, she thought wistfully, but Parker Tennant had died as he’d lived: without making any provision for the future. He’d left his daughters with a mountain of debt besides, and the unhappy task of having to salvage what little they could from his possessions. Not that there had been much. The beautiful home they’d had in Surrey had been mortgaged twice over, and even their mother’s jewels had had to be sold to satisfy their creditors.

Paige thought it was just as well their mother hadn’t lived to see it. Annabel Tennant had died of an obscure form of cancer when Paige was seventeen and Sophie only ten, and she’d sometimes wondered whether that was when her father had started taking such enormous risks with his clients’ money. It was as if his wife’s death had persuaded him that there was no point in planning for a future that might never happen, and there was no doubt that losing her mother had affected him badly.

It was why Paige had left school without finishing her education; why she’d appointed herself his protector. She’d been there when he needed her, taking care of him when he didn’t, and somehow getting him through those first awful months after Annabel died.

It had taken a toll on her, too, but she’d never considered herself. She’d been happy making him happy, and until she’d been introduced to Nikolas Petronides she’d cared little for the fact that the only men she’d dated had been men her father had had dealings with.

Of course, he’d approved of Nikolas, too—at least to begin with. It was only when he’d discovered that the Greek had had no intention of investing money with him that he’d turned against him. And Paige had had no doubts where her loyalties lay…

Which was why there was no way she could accept Nikolas’s offer now. Apart from the fact that they had once known one another too well, she wanted nothing from him. In his own way, he was like Martin: he was using her situation to humiliate her, and however attractive the prospect of a summer in Greece might be—not to mention the generous salary he’d tried to bribe her with—she needed a real job with someone who wasn’t out for revenge.

But she didn’t want to think about that now. It was four years since her relationship with Nikolas had foundered and since then she’d insisted on taking charge of her own life. She sighed. Not that she’d been any more successful, she conceded wryly. Her association with Martin Price had hardly been a success. But then, she hadn’t been aware that the handsome young accountant had been more interested in furthering his own career, and in paying court to Parker Tennant’s daughter he had envisaged a partnership in her father’s investment brokerage firm as his reward. Of course, when Parker Tennant died in such inauspicious circumstances, he’d quickly amended his plans. In a very short time, Paige had found her engagement had only been as secure as her father’s bank balance, and although Martin had made some excuse about finding someone else she’d known exactly what he really meant.

She stared dully out of the window. That was why she’d felt so mortified when she’d learned that Martin had arranged for her to see Nikolas Petronides. It was galling to think that his prime concern was to put some distance between them, and she half wished she could tell him exactly what she and Nikolas had once been to one another. Would he be jealous? She doubted it. Of Nikolas’s wealth, perhaps, but nothing else.

The train pulled into her station and, leaving her seat, she discovered to her relief that it had stopped raining. Which was just as well, as she had a ten-minute walk to Claremont Avenue, and no umbrella.

Aunt Ingrid’s cottage was about halfway down the avenue, and Paige approached the house with some relief. It had been quite a day, one way and another, and she was looking forward to changing into shorts and a T-shirt and spending some time weeding her aunt’s pocket-sized garden. It was what she needed, she thought: mindless physical exercise, with nothing more momentous to think about than what the soil was doing to her nails.

She heard her aunt’s and her sister’s voices before she’d even opened the front gate. The windows of the cottage were open and their raised tones rang with unpleasantly familiar resonance on the still air. Several of her aunt’s neighbours were taking advantage of the break in the weather to catch up on outdoor jobs, and they could hear them, too, and Paige offered the elderly couple next door an apologetic smile as she hurried up the path.

What now? she wondered wearily. She glanced at her watch. It was barely three o’clock. Sophie shouldn’t even be home from school yet. For heaven’s sake, didn’t she have enough to worry about as it was?

‘You’re a selfish, stupid girl,’ Aunt Ingrid was saying angrily as Paige let herself into the house.

‘And you’re a harried old bag,’ retorted Sophie, before there was the ominous sound of flesh meeting flesh. There was a howl from her sister before she apparently responded in kind, and Paige slammed the door and charged across the tiny hall and into the over-furnished parlour just as her aunt was collapsing into a Regency-striped love-seat, her hand pressed disbelievingly to her cheek.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Paige stared at them incredulously. ‘What on earth is going on? I could hear you when I turned into the avenue.’

That was an exaggeration, but they were not to know that, and it had the effect of bringing a groan of anguish from her aunt. The thought that someone else might have been a party to her disgrace was too much, and Paige, who had been hoping to shame her sister, gave a resigned sigh.

Of course, Sophie was unlikely to care what anyone else thought, and as if to prove this she would have pushed past her sister and left the room if Paige hadn’t grabbed her arm. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she demanded. ‘I asked what was going on here. You might as well tell me. I’m going to find out anyway. Have you been excluded from school? What?’

‘Ask her.’ Sophie’s face was mutinous. She gave her aunt a baleful look. ‘She’s the one who’s been poking around in my things.’

Paige didn’t make the mistake of letting go of her arm. ‘I asked you,’ she reminded her shortly, although her heart sank at the thought that Sophie might have some justification for her complaint. Casting a silent appeal in the older woman’s direction, she added, ‘This is Aunt Ingrid’s house, not yours.’

‘Ask her what she’s got hidden in her underwear drawer.’

Aunt Ingrid’s voice was frail and unsteady, and for a moment Paige wanted to smile. Dear God, what had Sophie been hiding? See-through bras; sexy knickers; what? Then, the reluctant admission that Ingrid shouldn’t have been looking through Sophie’s belongings anyway wiped the embryo grin of amusement off her face.

‘Yeah, how about that?’ Sophie broke in before she could respond. ‘The old bat’s been prying into my drawers, in more ways than one. Nosy old bitch! I told you that we had no privacy here—’

‘She’s a drug addict, Paige.’ The older woman’s voice trembled now. ‘An addict, in my house. I never thought I’d live to see the day that my own sister’s child—’

‘What is Aunt Ingrid talking about?’ Despite the fact that the old lady had been known to exaggerate at times, her words had struck a chill into Paige’s bones. ‘Why should she say you’re a drug addict?’

‘She’s lying—’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘She is,’ insisted Sophie scornfully. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I’m not an addict. For God’s sake, I doubt if she’d know one if she saw one.’

‘I know what marijuana smells like,’ retorted her aunt tremulously. ‘You’re not the first generation to discover illegal substances, you know.’

‘So?’ Sophie sneered. ‘You’re no better than me.’

‘I didn’t use heroin!’ exclaimed Aunt Ingrid, with evident disgust, and Paige’s jaw dropped.

‘Heroin?’ she echoed weakly, turning to stare at her sister. ‘Oh, Sophie, is this true? Have you been using heroin?’

‘No—’

‘Then what was it doing in your drawer?’ demanded her aunt, and Paige endorsed her question. ‘Oh, I should have known that you’d take her side,’ muttered Sophie sulkily, without answering. ‘Whatever I say now, you’re not going to believe me.’

‘Try me.’

‘You don’t have to take my word for it,’ persisted the old lady. ‘Go into your bedroom, Paige. You can smell it for yourself. Marijuana has a most distinctive scent: sweet and very heady. That was why I looked though Sophie’s belongings. I was expecting to find a pack of joints.’

Paige shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t recognise marijuana, Aunt Ingrid. It may sound stupid, but I’ve never smoked a joint in my life.’ She frowned. ‘But I thought you said you found heroin in the drawer?’

‘I did.’

Sophie snorted. ‘She has no right to criticise me. She’s obviously familiar with drugs or she wouldn’t be accusing me.’

Paige caught her breath. ‘You admit that you’ve been smoking marijuana?’ she exclaimed, horrified, and Sophie gave her a pitying look.

‘Where have you been living for the past ten years, Paige?’ she exhorted. ‘Not on this planet!’

‘Don’t you dare try and justify it,’ cried her aunt, but Sophie wasn’t listening to her.

‘Everyone uses these days,’ she said, and Paige stared at her with disbelieving eyes.

‘I don’t,’ she said, but somehow that wasn’t enough.

A sense of panic gripped her. What was she going to do now? When she’d accepted responsibility for Sophie, she’d never expected anything like this.

Her aunt shifted in her chair. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Paige?’ she asked. Then, after fumbling in the pocket of her trousers, she declared, ‘This.’

‘This’ was a tiny plastic packet of white powder and Paige could only guess at what it was. ‘Oh, Sophie,’ she exclaimed, feeling sick to her stomach. ‘Where did you get it? What is it doing in your drawer?’

Sophie hunched her shoulders. ‘That’s my business.’

‘Not as long as you’re living in my house, young lady,’ retorted her aunt sharply, and Paige wanted to groan aloud when her sister answered back.

‘We won’t be living in your house much longer,’ she announced triumphantly. ‘Paige is going to find us a decent place of our own, aren’t you, Paige? Somewhere better than this shoebox, without any crazy old woman telling us how to live our lives.’

‘Sophie—’

Paige’s protest was useless. There was only so much their aunt would take, she knew that, and Sophie had tried her patience for the last time. Struggling to her feet, she pointed a trembling finger at the younger girl. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your insolence. I don’t care what Paige does, but I want you out of here tonight!’

Two weeks later, Paige stood at the window of their room in the small bed-and-breakfast, watching somewhat anxiously for the taxi that was going to take them to the airport. It was already fifteen minutes late and her palms were damp with the realisation that if they missed the flight they would also miss the ferry that would take them to Skiapolis.

Behind her, Sophie lounged sulkily on her bed, making no attempt to gather her belongings together. She had left her sister to do all their packing, and Paige had had to bite her tongue against the urge to tell Sophie that this was all her fault. But it was. And Paige could have done with some reassurance that she wasn’t making yet another mistake.

Glancing round, she met the younger girl’s defiant gaze with some impatience. If only Sophie were older: if only she could have been relied upon to pull her weight, they might have got through this. Aunt Ingrid wasn’t a monster. With a little persuasion on Sophie’s part, the older woman would have come round.

As it was, with no other job in prospect and bills to pay, Paige had been compelled to call the number Nikolas Petronides had given her. At least working for him would give her a breathing space, she’d consoled herself, and if she saved every penny he paid her there might be enough to put the deposit down on a small apartment by the time they came back to England.

It had been a relief to find that someone other than Nikolas had answered when she’d rung. A man, who had introduced himself as Donald Jamieson, and who was apparently Nikolas’s solicitor, had been left to handle the details. He’d explained that Mr Petronides had had to return to Greece, but he’d issued instructions to the effect that if Paige should decide to take the job Jamieson should make the necessary arrangements for their journey.

Although she’d been reassured by Jamieson’s involvement Paige had wondered briefly if she was being entirely wise in accepting the position. It was useless telling herself that Nikolas couldn’t possibly have known she’d change her mind. That the instructions he’d left had been a logical attempt to cover all eventualities. But the fact was, Nikolas was an arrogant devil, and had it not been for Sophie’s problems she’d have done almost anything rather than accept his help.

Still, she consoled herself, it was only for the summer, and a lot of things could change in three months. Aunt Ingrid had been horrified when she’d explained what they were planning to do. As far as she was concerned, Paige was jeopardising her own future for the sake of a girl who had no appreciation of the fact. And, because the Petronides name meant nothing more to her than the logo on the side of an oil tanker, she’d considered Paige’s decision reckless in the extreme.

Which hadn’t improved her relationship with Sophie one iota. The younger girl continued to assert that despite the presence of the heroin in her drawer she’d never actually touched hard drugs, but Paige had known she couldn’t trust her not to use them in the future. She’d been horrified to learn that Sophie’s introduction to marijuana wasn’t a recent thing either. According to her, it had been in common use at her boarding-school, but if she’d thought that might reassure her sister she couldn’t have been more wrong. Paige had been appalled, and more convinced than ever that she was doing the right thing by getting Sophie out of London.

She scanned the street again for the mini-cab that had promised to pick them up twenty minutes ago. She hoped it came soon. In spite of everything, she didn’t want to admit that she was getting cold feet.

‘Come on, come on,’ she muttered impatiently, and Sophie, who had been viewing her sister’s agitation with a certain amount of satisfaction, now sat up. Pushing back the crinkled shoulder-length perm that was several shades lighter than Paige’s toffee-streaked blonde hair, she looked more optimistic than she’d done since Paige had first told her that she was going to accept the job in Greece.

‘Does this mean we’re going to miss the plane?’ she asked smugly, and Paige knew exactly how her aunt must have felt when she’d confronted Sophie’s insolent stare.

‘No,’ she retorted at once, although she wasn’t absolutely sure what she’d do if they did miss the flight. After all, it was the holiday season. Flights were booked well in advance. ‘We’ll just take a later plane,’ she added shortly, ‘so you might as well resign yourself to the fact that we’re going to Skiapolis.’

‘Skiapolis!’ Sophie spoke disparagingly. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad if it was Athens, or Rhodes, even. Somewhere I’d heard of. But Skiapolis! I don’t know how you can even justify what you’re doing to me. If Daddy was alive, he’d—’

She broke off, and Paige seized her chance. ‘Yes?’ she prompted. ‘If Daddy was alive—what? What would he do? Do you think he’d be proud to learn that his younger daughter was a—a junkie?’

Sophie sniffed. ‘I’m not a junkie.’

‘So you say.’ Paige was scornful now. ‘And what about what you did to Aunt Ingrid? Daddy was very fond of Aunt Ingrid. Do you think he’d applaud you for beating her up?’

‘I didn’t beat her up.’ Sophie was indignant. ‘She slapped me first.’

‘There are other ways of beating up old people than by hitting them,’ retorted Paige without hesitation. ‘What if she’d had a seizure? How would you have felt then?’

Sophie’s shoulders hunched. ‘She’d been nosing about in my things. She had no right to do that.’

‘And you had no right to sneak out of school before your last period,’ Paige reminded her sharply. ‘If you’d had nothing to hide, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.’

‘I wish we weren’t.’

‘I dare say you do. But we are, and that’s all there is to it.’ Paige heard the unmistakable sound of a car in the cul-de-sac outside and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Here’s the taxi. Grab your things. We’re leaving.’

Sophie flounced off the bed. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, Paige. Never! Forcing me to go and live on some grotty old Greek island with some grotty old business acquaintance of Daddy’s. I’m going to be bored out of my mind.’

‘Better bored than stoned,’ replied Paige tersely, wishing she felt more positive. And at least Sophie knew nothing about Nikolas, other than the story she’d invented about how she’d got the job. In fact, she’d left Sophie with the impression that if she hadn’t gone crying to Martin about their problems Paige might never have been offered the position at all.

It was late afternoon when they arrived in Athens and the heat was palpable. Even Sophie breathed a little sigh of wonder as they walked down the steps off the plane. With the sun striking on the airport buildings, reflecting back off the glass, and heat rising up from the tarmac, the unaccustomed brilliance was dazzling. For a few minutes, even Sophie forgot her complaints as they walked the short distance to the arrivals hall.

The formalities were soon dealt with. The Greek officials were not immune to the attractions of two young women travelling alone, and in a very short time their luggage was stowed in the boot of an ancient cab, and they were on their way to Piraeus. The ferry was due to depart at seven o’clock that evening, and Paige was hoping they might have time to grab a bite to eat before they boarded the ship. She had no idea what facilities might be provided on the vessel. Her own trips to Greece with her father had never entailed travelling between the mainland and the many islands that dotted the area. Of course, they had visited Skiapolis—but that had been as guests aboard Nikolas’s yacht. This was an entirely different situation, and she had no illusions about the position she now occupied in his life.

Piraeus was the largest and busiest port in Greece. Ferries ran from its harbour to most of the larger islands in the Greek archipelago, some of the bigger ones looking as luxurious as cruise ships.

Paige doubted that the ferry to Skiapolis would fall into that category. Her memory was that it had been one of the smaller islands in the group. Nikolas owned most, if not all, of the island, and he hadn’t wanted to encourage tourists, at least in those days. A small ferry had brought mail and essential supplies, she remembered, but she doubted it possessed tourist accommodation. She was grateful the trip wasn’t a long one. They might have been obliged to sleep on deck.

The instructions they’d been given obliged them to collect their tickets from an agent at the Plateia Karaiskaki, and after the car had dropped them off they carried their bags across the busy concourse. Sophie was briefly stunned by the heat and the smells and the alien language, but although she exclaimed at the brilliance of the sea she was beginning to find the late afternoon sun more of a burden than a blessing. She grumbled every time someone jostled her, or the strap of her rucksack dug into her shoulder.

They eventually found the office they were looking for. Paige went to see about their tickets and was given the number of the quay where the ferry was supposed to leave from. But she was also informed that a seven o’clock departure schedule meant very little. If the ferry was late arriving at the port, they could be looking at nine o’clock or later.

Sophie understood little of the conversation Paige was having with the agent. The office was hot and stuffy, and she was quite happy to spend her time guarding their luggage beside the open door. And exchanging provocative glances with a curly-headed youth in jeans and trainers, whose brown, sun-bronzed arms were seen to advantage in his sleeveless T-shirt.

Their silent flirtation had not gone unnoticed, however. Paige, trying to concentrate on what the agent was saying, made furious gestures at her sister, but without much success. Hot and frustrated, Paige was beginning to wish they’d never left London. At least in England she could understand what was going on.

With the tickets in her hand, she eventually escaped the counter and pushed her way across to where Sophie was waiting. The youth was chatting her up now and, judging by the becoming flush in Sophie’s cheeks, she was having no trouble understanding him. Indeed, she hardly noticed Paige’s arrival, her husky laugh attracting the attention of more than one pair of eyes.

‘Sophie!’ Paige dug her in the ribs with her elbow, bending to pick up her own bags before confronting her sister with a baleful look. ‘Come on,’ she said, ignoring the boy. ‘Let’s go and find a café. I’m dying for a cool drink.’