The Millionaire's Virgin

‘Wait a minute.’ Sophie grabbed her arm, and although Paige prepared herself for an argument it didn’t come. ‘This is Paris,’ she said, as if that was of some interest to them. ‘Mr Petronides has sent him to meet us. Isn’t that great?’

Paige blinked. ‘What?’

‘Kirie Petronides,’ ventured the young man helpfully. ‘You are Kiria Tennant, ohi? And Thespinis Tennant,’ he added, smiling at Sophie. ‘Kalostone, kiria. Welcome to Greece.’

Paige dropped her bags again. ‘Kirie Petronides asked you to meet us?’ she asked disbelievingly, even as the boy’s distinction between greeting an older woman and a younger one caused her to grit her teeth. Still, she probably looked a lot older, she conceded, right at this moment. She was hot and tired, and she wasn’t in the mood for precocious youths.

‘Ne,’ he said, looping the strap of Sophie’s rucksack over his shoulder and picking up her suitcase without obvious effort. ‘If you will come with me…’

‘Wait.’ Paige hesitated. ‘How do I know—?’ she began, only to have Sophie override her protests.

‘Come on, Paige,’ she muttered in a low voice. ‘How else did he know our names?’

‘Perhaps he heard me speaking to the ticket agent,’ replied Paige uneasily. And then, realising she hadn’t mentioned Nikolas’s name, she muttered, ‘Oh—all right.’

But she wasn’t about to stagger across the quay again with both her bags. If the boy could carry one suitcase so easily, he could carry two. Tapping him on the arm, she gestured towards the other bag, and although his smile slipped a little he nodded and picked it up.

‘Isn’t he a babe?’ Sophie whispered as they followed his sinuous saunter away from the busy ferry terminal and along a narrow quay where private yachts and motor vessels bobbed on the rising swell. ‘Great buns!’

‘Sophie!’ Paige realised she sounded like an old maid, but her sister’s language was too liberally peppered with comments of that kind. ‘You watch too much television.’

‘Well, I won’t be watching it from now on, will I?’ Sophie retorted, and Paige didn’t know if that was a blessing or not. When she’d insisted on them coming out here, she hadn’t considered that there might be other distractions, and Paris—if that was his name—might be far too available.

Still, she couldn’t worry about that now. This was their first real introduction to the blue waters of the Aegean, and the breeze blowing off the water was refreshingly cool against Paige’s hot cheeks.

By the time they reached their transport, a steady trickle of perspiration was dampening the skin between her breasts and the hair on the back of her neck was wet. Although she’d warned Sophie against wearing anything skimpy to travel in, she was wishing she hadn’t taken her own advice now. The denim skirt and matching waistcoat, worn over a simple round-necked navy blue T-shirt, had seemed perfectly suitable when they’d boarded the plane in London. Now, however, the shirt was sticking to her, and she wished she’d taken the time to go into the restroom at the airport and remove the white tights that were cutting into her legs.

Sophie looked hot, too, but she’d pulled her shirt out of her cropped jeans and tied it beneath her breasts. Paige hadn’t had the heart to stop her, even though she knew no Greek girl would dress that way. Well, no Greek girl of Nikolas’s family, she amended, thinking of Ariadne. But if Nikolas didn’t like it he had only himself to blame.

The vessel that awaited them was not a yacht. Paige, who had briefly entertained the thought that Nikolas himself might have come to meet them, quickly revised her opinion. The sleek motor launch was much smaller than the other vessel and it was deserted, its fringed canopy flapping in the breeze. But at least it would provide some protection, she thought gratefully. She couldn’t wait to get out of the sun.

Paris threw their bags onto the deck and then jumped aboard. Paige felt a momentary twinge of irritation at his treatment of their luggage and then decided it was probably no worse than the handling they’d suffered on the plane. He held out his hand to Sophie, and she quickly followed after him. Then he did the same for Paige, taking a good look at her white-clad thighs as her skirt lifted in the breeze.

He grinned then, aware of her indignation, and although she wanted to be cross with him she found herself smiling, too. He was only a boy, she told herself as he took her suitcase from her and stowed it with the rest of the luggage in the steering cabin. He probably lived and worked on the island, and they were unlikely to see him again.

CHAPTER THREE

PAIGE regarded her reflection in the long mirrored doors of the closet and wondered why she was taking so much trouble over her appearance tonight. It wasn’t as if she wanted to impress anyone; not with her looks anyway. But she was nervous about meeting Ariadne for the first time and finding out if they were likely to get along.

She had wondered if the girl would be curious to meet them but evidently Ariadne did not regard paid companions as honoured guests. Instead, it had been left to a black-garbed housekeeper to greet the new arrivals, and although Paige thought she was vaguely familiar Kiria Papandreiu had given no indication that they had met before.

The journey to the island had not been unpleasant, though it had taken rather longer than Paige remembered. Still, once they were out of the busy harbour, Paris had provided light refreshments, and because she’d eaten little of the lunch on the plane Paige was grateful for his consideration.

So much so that she hadn’t objected when Sophie had asked if she could go up front with Paris. Of course she hadn’t anticipated that Sophie would spend most of the journey seated beside him at the controls. But having given her permission there was little she could do about it and at least it had kept her sister occupied throughout the two-hour trip.

Arriving at the small port of Agios Petros had been rather nerve-racking. It had been dark, and although Paige hadn’t expected anyone to meet them at the quay she had anticipated that Nikolas would be waiting at the house. But she’d been wrong. When they’d emerged from the car that had brought them up from the harbour, Kiria Papandreiu had explained, albeit in barely comprehensible English, that Kirie Petronides was away. Where he was, she didn’t say; nor when he’d be back. But, once again, Paige got the impression that as employees they didn’t warrant that kind of information.

It was all a far cry from the last time she was here, she reflected wistfully, and then chided herself for allowing thoughts of that kind to colour her mood. She’d been a guest then, not a servant, and Nikolas had done his best to make both her and her father welcome.

But Parker Tennant hadn’t known what was really going on…

She stiffened now, smoothing down the calf-length skirt of her turquoise taffeta sheath. She’d hesitated some time before choosing the fairly formal outfit, but until she knew what was expected of her, she’d rather not take any chances. However, the clothes she’d bought for the trip, both for her and Sophie, had been off the peg. Sophie, who had grown in the last year, had needed a selection of summer clothes, but Paige herself had had to make do with a couple of dresses.

Fortunately her hair was easy to handle. Unlike Sophie’s, she wore it fairly short and straight, the simple bob curling under at her chin. When she’d known Nikolas before, her hair had been long and she’d worn it in a French braid, but that was in the days when a visit to the hairdressers’ was a weekly event.

She sighed, touching her hot cheeks with nervous fingers. She wasn’t beautiful, not like Sophie anyway, who seemed set to rival their mother’s looks when she’d been young. Paige had expressive green eyes and a generous mouth, but her features were not particularly memorable, which was why she’d never really believed that any of the men she’d dated had wanted her for herself.

A knock at the door aroused her apprehension. What now? she wondered anxiously, but it was only Sophie, who came into the room without waiting for a response. She’d changed, too, but the yellow slip dress she was wearing barely covered her bottom, and her clunky wedges clomped across the rug.

‘Are you ready?’ she asked, viewing Paige’s appearance with critical eyes. ‘Is that new? I don’t remember seeing it before.’

‘It’s not new,’ said Paige, wondering if she dared broach the subject of Sophie’s appearance, but her sister just pulled a face and sauntered over to the balcony doors.

‘I wonder what the view’s like from here?’ she mused, drawing back as a particularly large moth came and fluttered against the glass. ‘You did say you’d stayed here before, didn’t you? I couldn’t see much of the island as we drove up from the harbour, but the house seemed huge.’

‘It is.’ Paige chose her words with care. ‘Is that what you’re wearing for dinner?’

‘Well, I’m not going to get changed again,’ retorted Sophie, swinging round. She looked down at her dress. ‘What’s wrong with it?’

Paige hesitated. ‘Nothing, I suppose—’

‘Just because you like to wear frumpy clothes doesn’t mean I have to.’ Sophie’s jaw jutted belligerently. ‘I bet Paris would approve.’

Paige shrugged. ‘I dare say he would, if he could see you,’ she declared evenly. ‘But until we know what our position is here—’

‘I thought we did know,’ countered Sophie, frowning. ‘We’re going to keep some old man’s ward company. But don’t expect me to dress like a nanny. You can, but I’ve got better things to do.’

Paige shook her head, deciding not to pursue it right now, and changed the subject. ‘So,’ she said pleasantly, ‘have you unpacked your things and put them away?’

‘I’ve unpacked some,’ said Sophie carelessly. ‘I’ll do the rest in the morning.’ She scowled suddenly, turning on her high heels that added inches to her five-feet-six-inch height. ‘Hey, your room is bigger than mine. That’s not fair.’

Paige glanced about her. In all honesty, she’d paid little attention to the spacious apartment she’d been given. She’d noticed the bed was square, with a solid wooden frame, and that the quilt that covered it was made of hand-woven silk. But she’d scarcely admired the carved oak furniture or heeded the high arching ceiling above her head. There were rose chiffon curtains at the windows, she saw now, and richly patterned rugs dotted about the polished floor. In other circumstances, she wouldn’t have failed to be charmed by its simple elegance, and she could understand why Sophie was so impressed.

‘Do you want to swap?’ she asked.

‘No.’ Sophie had the grace to look slightly shamefaced now. ‘I was just admiring it, that’s all.’ She went to take a look into the adjoining bathroom. ‘I think my bathroom’s bigger than yours.’

‘Good.’

Paige decided it was time they were leaving. It was no use putting it off any longer, however apprehensive she felt. She took another look at herself in the mirror, and tucked a loose strand of brown-gold hair behind her ear. Then, after checking that the gold hoops she was wearing in her ears were secure, she picked up her purse and turned towards the door.

‘Shall we—?’

‘This guy—’

They both spoke together, and although Paige wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what her sister had been going to say she knew they couldn’t leave until she did.

‘Nikolas Petronides,’ went on Sophie, after receiving a silent go-ahead, ‘he must be filthy rich, mustn’t he? I mean, according to Paris, he owns a fleet of oil tankers and you have to admit, this house is something else.’

Paige suppressed a groan. The last thing she needed was for Sophie to start getting ideas about Nikolas. And she hadn’t even seen him yet! Her sister thought he was old, but Nikolas was only about forty. And he was still a disturbingly attractive man.

‘I don’t think that’s of any interest to us,’ she declared reprovingly, as if talking about Nikolas didn’t bother her in the least. Didn’t remind her of the first time she been introduced to him by her father, or of the hot dark eyes that had seduced her on the spot…

‘Get real, Paige. I wouldn’t mind marrying someone with pots of money,’ retorted Sophie, with a grimace. ‘I wonder how he’d feel about taking a child-bride?’ She giggled, and Paige knew an almost irresistible impulse to slap her. ‘Or perhaps he has a son. What do you think?’

‘I think you’re being very silly,’ said Paige, aware that she was overreacting. But right now she couldn’t think about Nikolas without remembering the past they’d shared. It was this house, she thought. It had so many connotations—even though he’d never made love to her here…

‘What’s silly about wanting to marry a millionaire?’ exclaimed Sophie at once. ‘Or wanting to know if he has a son?’

‘He doesn’t.’

Paige was abrupt, and Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘Of course,’ she blurted excitedly. ‘You’ve met him. I’d forgotten about that. Go on: tell me what he’s like.’

‘Not now.’ Paige was determined not to get into that discussion. ‘Come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.’

‘So what? Petronides isn’t here. You heard what that old witch said when we arrived. I’m not worried about keeping some Greek schoolkid waiting.’

Paige forbore to mention that the Greek schoolkid in question was a year older than she was. And, looking at Sophie as they left the bedroom and started along the upper gallery, she was reluctantly aware that the younger girl was probably years older when it came to experience of life. Ariadne might have lost both her parents, but she hadn’t been left alone. She’d been protected and cared for all the time she was grieving, and she had the comfort of knowing that her future was secure.

But now was not the time to be having negative thoughts about the girl she’d come here to chaperon. Instead, Paige concentrated on her surroundings, finding that her memory hadn’t deserted her when they reached the top of the stairs. Marble treads led down to an Italian marble foyer, a black iron balustrade following their sweeping curve.

‘Wow!’ Sophie was impressed, and she paused on the first stair to admire the cut-glass chandelier that illuminated the hall below. ‘What a pity we don’t have an audience,’ she taunted. ‘We could make quite an entrance from here.’

‘Thank goodness we don’t—’ Paige was beginning, when a tall figure moved out of the shadows and into the light.

‘Parakalo,’ said Nikolas, a black silk shirt and black trousers accentuating his darkly tanned appearance. ‘Please—Sophie, is it not?—feel free to descend the stairs any way you choose.’

Even Sophie was taken aback and Paige wished she could just fade into the woodwork behind her. Evidently Nikolas had returned and it was him they’d been keeping waiting. Always supposing he intended to eat with the hired help this evening, of course. Until she knew what their position in the household was going to be, she couldn’t be sure of anything.

‘Is that him?’

Sophie’s stage whisper must have reached Nikolas and Paige gave her sister an exasperated look. ‘Go on,’ she urged, pushing the girl forward without answering her, and Sophie returned her look with interest before obediently starting down.

‘I only asked,’ she muttered, but Paige wasn’t in the mood to be placated. She was already wondering how she’d ever thought that bringing Sophie here would be a good idea.

Nikolas had stepped back as they came down the stairs but now he approached them, greeting them in his own language as if to reassure them that he hadn’t heard what Sophie had said. ‘Kalispera,’ he said, his deep voice scraping across Paige’s already frayed nerves. ‘Kalos orissate sto Skiapolis.’

Sophie blinked, clearly not understanding his words, and he took her hand and said easily, ‘Welcome to Skiapolis. Did you have a good journey?’

‘Oh—yes. Thank you.’ Paige was amazed to see that her sister had actually turned fiery red. ‘I’m sorry about—you know—saying what I did. But this house is, like—way cool.’

‘I am glad you like it,’ he responded smoothly, but Paige closed her eyes for a moment, praying for deliverance. She dreaded to think what Sophie was going to say next and she started violently when Nikolas murmured, ‘Paige?’ in a concerned voice. ‘Are you all right?’

He was standing in front of her now and she had no choice but to allow him to shake her hand, too. But her fingers tingled within the strong grasp of his, her damp palm sliding revealingly against his firm flesh.

‘I—I’m fine,’ she managed, extracting her hand again as soon as she possibly could. He was so close, much closer than he’d been across the table at the restaurant in London, and she was instantly conscious of his height and the broadness of his shoulders, and the intimidating awareness that this might not have been such a good idea on her part either. ‘I’m sorry if we’ve kept you waiting. Your housekeeper said you were away.’

‘I was. But now I’m back.’ Nikolas continued to regard her with considering eyes, and Paige, whose eyes were on a level with the opened collar of his shirt, concentrated on the V of dark hair that was visible above the placket. ‘You’re flushed, aghapita. Are you not feeling well?’

‘I’ve told you, I’m fine—’ Paige started protestingly, only to be overridden by her sister’s voice.

‘She didn’t eat any lunch on the plane,’ Sophie told him smugly, not to be outdone, and as if realising they had an audience Nikolas took an automatic step away.

‘That was unwise,’ he said softly, his eyes lingering on her embarrassed face. ‘Was it so stressful? The journey, I mean.’

‘No. No, of course not.’

Paige wished he would leave her alone. Sophie wasn’t a fool and if he continued to behave as if her well-being was of some importance to him her sister would begin to suspect she had something to hide.

But perhaps that was his intention, she mused uneasily. She’d never truly believed he’d offered her this job out of the goodness of his heart. Men like Nikolas Petronides didn’t forgive—or forget. And, although she had no illusions that she’d ever meant a great deal to him, she had walked out on him, which in his eyes was probably unforgivable.

‘Kala,’ he murmured now, inclining his head towards a room on his left. ‘Ariadne is waiting for us. We will go and introduce you, ne?’

Paige nodded, glancing at Sophie before accompanying him across the vast expanse of marble that lay between them and what she seemed to recall from her previous visit was an elegant drawing room. Around them, the plain walls of the reception hall were hung with literally dozens of paintings, large and small, that added vivid colour to what was essentially a neutral area. But there were flowers, too: huge bouquets of magnolia and oleander and lily in sculpted vases, whose distinctive fragrance hung sweetly in the cool conditioned air. It was all very beautiful and very civilised, and Paige wished she could relax and stop thinking that she’d made a terrible mistake.

The lamplit salon they entered was as she remembered: high ceilings above striped silk walls; long undraped windows at either side of an enormous stone fireplace, above which hung an impressive portrait of a woman she knew to be Nikolas’s mother; several upholstered sofas in green and gold; and rich, subtly woven rugs scattered over a polished floor. The many display cabinets were the repository for delicate china and ceramics, a collection Nikolas’s grandfather had begun in his lifetime and which his late father had continued. And, although there were other paintings here, too, there were also a handful of jewelled icons to draw the eye. It was a beautiful room, casually luxurious, yet revealing a lived-in comfort and informality in the sprinkling of cushions on the sofas, in the sprawl of magazines decorating a low granite table, and the squat vase of wild flowers residing on the mantel.

But it was the girl who was standing on the hearth who took Paige’s eye. Ariadne—Stephanopoulous, as Donald Jamieson had advised her—was nothing like the schoolgirl she had been expecting. Tall and slender, with a long coil of night-dark hair hanging over her shoulder, she looked years older than the seventeen she admitted to. She was wearing black: an ankle-length gown that moulded her figure, and would not have looked out of place on a woman twice her age. She looked more like Nikolas’s wife than his ward, thought Paige in some dismay, wondering how on earth she was supposed to deal with her.

And, indeed, Ariadne reacted to their appearance with the kind of studied arrogance that seemed to confirm Paige’s assessment of her. ‘Nikolas!’ she exclaimed, ignoring the two women with him and going towards him, her hands held out in front of her so that he was obliged to take them in his own. ‘Ola entaksi?’

‘Speak English, Ariadne,’ Nikolas chided her mildly. ‘Our guests are not familiar with our language. And, after all, that is one of the reasons I have invited Miss Tennant here: to help you improve your accent.’

‘My accent doesn’t need improving,’ retorted Ariadne at once, with a little less maturity. But Paige had to admit she was right. The Greek girl appeared to speak English very well indeed. A lot better than the schoolgirl Greek she could manage.

‘Whatever…’ Nikolas’s tone had hardened now. He turned to Paige. ‘My ward,’ he said simply. ‘I hope you’ll become good friends.’

‘I hope so, too,’ said Paige firmly, taking the limp hand Ariadne offered her. ‘It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Stephanopoulous.’

‘Miss Stephanopoulous!’ Nikolas was impatient. ‘Her name is Ariadne.’ He glanced at the girl beside her. ‘And this is Sophie. Miss Tennant’s sister.’

‘Hi.’ Sophie greeted the other girl without enthusiasm, and Paige hoped she wouldn’t say anything too outrageous. ‘I guess we’re the same age, right?’

‘Are we?’ Ariadne sounded bored, and she immediately turned back to her guardian, wrapping her hands around his forearm and gazing up at him with wide, appealing eyes. ‘Isos—maybe we can have dinner now?’

‘After I have offered Miss Tennant and her sister an aperitif,’ Nikolas answered evenly, removing her hands from his wrist. ‘Paige?’ He indicated that she should follow him across to an ebony drinks cabinet. ‘What will you have?’

Paige hesitated; then, after exchanging a warning look with Sophie, she crossed the room. She wasn’t happy about leaving the two girls alone, and she kept glancing back over her shoulder as if she expected something awful to happen.

‘Ouzo? Retsina? Or something more familiar?’ asked Nikolas at her approach. ‘And relax. It will do Ariadne good to spend time with someone of her own age for a change.’

Paige expelled a breath. ‘I thought you said she still attended school.’

‘I did.’ Nikolas lifted a bottle of white wine from the refrigerated cabinet and arched an enquiring brow. Then, after she’d nodded her approval, he went on, ‘But Ariadne has been too much with older people this past year. She’s had a series of minor infections which have kept her away from school, and I had to hire a tutor to give her extra lessons.’

‘I see.’ Paige watched him pour her wine. ‘She seems very—attached to you.’

‘You noticed.’

‘It would have been hard not to.’ Paige took the glass he offered, carefully avoiding his fingers, and then looked up to find him watching her with a whimsical expression. ‘What?’ she exclaimed. Then, glancing over her shoulder again, she said, ‘Well—she’s hardly discreet.’

‘Unlike you,’ he remarked drily, pouring a generous measure of Scotch into a cut-glass tumbler. ‘I must admit I was surprised when I heard that you’d been in touch with Jamieson. If I’d thought for a minute that you’d change your mind, I’d have hung on for a few more days. Why did you?’

‘Why did I what?’

He pulled a wry face. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’

‘Oh—’ Paige knew she should have been prepared for the question, but she wasn’t. ‘I—I decided it was too good an opportunity to miss.’

‘Did you?’

His eyes were lazily intent and she hurried to explain herself. ‘Financially, I mean,’ she assured him. ‘And although it meant taking Sophie out of school a couple of weeks early all her exams are over.’