Greek Bachelors: Buying His Bride: Bought: The Greek's Innocent Virgin / His for a Price / Securing the Greek's Legacy

But, just as long as he kept that fact from his father, there shouldn’t be a problem.

Feeling the heat of the sun on the back of her neck, Chantal followed Angelos up the path that led from the jetty to the villa. The garden seemed to tumble down the hillside, a joyful haven so breathtakingly beautiful that she paused for a moment just to enjoy the scent and colour. Orange and magnolia trees bordered the path, and the sea sparkled turquoise in the dazzling sunlight.

Aware that Angelos was glaring at her impatiently, she hurried towards him, followed him round a bend in the path and had her first proper view of the villa.

It had obviously been built to give the owners the benefit of what must surely be the best views in Greece, and her first impression left her speechless with wonder.

Between the villa and the sea lay a series of terraces, shaded by vines and linked by narrow paths. And on the same level as the villa itself was a large curved pool which followed the shape of the hillside and which appeared to merge with the ocean beyond.

Despite its obvious size, the villa itself was a vision of Mediterranean charm. Bougainvillaea tumbled from balconies, down over whitewashed walls to the scented gardens below. On the ground floor an arched entrance offered a tantalising view of a shaded stone courtyard with a central fountain. Doors opened from the main living area to the pool and inside the spacious room she could see rich-coloured textiles set against cool white walls.

‘Kalispera!’ A nurse appeared, wearing a crisp white uniform and a stern expression on her face.

Angelos walked towards her. ‘How is my father today?’

‘Determined to do himself as much damage as possible!’ The nurse set her mouth in a disapproving line, and Angelos lifted an eyebrow.

‘His tests are not good?’

‘His tests are excellent, but he refuses to make any changes to his lifestyle.’ Clearly exasperated with her patient, the nurse glanced at Chantal. ‘Perhaps you will be able to influence him. He’s been very excited about your arrival. Hopefully now you are here he will join you for dinner. I couldn’t persuade him to eat lunch.’

Angelos frowned. ‘He isn’t eating?’

‘He doesn’t have much of an appetite.’ Her tone sharp, the nurse flipped through her notebook, checking her facts. ‘Black coffee for breakfast, nothing for lunch, and now he’s asking for a drink.’

‘Presumably not water?’ Angelos said wearily. ‘All right. I’ll talk to him.’

‘I’d appreciate that.’ The nurse gave a brief nod and slipped the book back into her pocket. ‘I’ll go and talk to the kitchen about his diet. See if there’s anything we can make that might tempt him.’

Angelos took Chantal’s arm and steered her towards the pool. It was set high enough up to give a breathtaking view of the bay and several small islands in the distance, and for a moment she just stood there, wondering if there was a place more peaceful or beautiful anywhere on earth. She’d travelled, and seen many sights, but there was something about this place that made her catch her breath.

‘It’s stunning.’

Angelos turned towards her and smiled and that smile was so intimate and sexy that her stomach flipped. For a moment she was blinded. The world around her shrank and there was nothing but him. No view, no villa, no other person. She just gazed back at him, the words in her mouth melting away unspoken.

She was just reminding herself of the need to breathe when he leaned towards her, a smile in his eyes as his lips brushed against her cheek.

‘Don’t get too comfortable. I’m watching you,’ he murmured softly in her ear, and she realised then that the smile and the sudden softening in his eyes had been for the benefit of his father, who was beaming with delight as he watched them.

And she took a step backwards, confused and disorientated because for one deeply humiliating moment she’d actually believed that the smile was for her.

And then she remembered. Men like him didn’t smile at women like her.

Reminding herself of the dangers of slipping into fantasy land, she stepped away from him and walked to his father, automatically gravitating towards a friendly face. ‘It’s good to see you again, Mr Zouvelekis.’

‘Call me Costas. After all, we’re virtually family.’ The older man struggled to his feet. Then he took her hands and squeezed, and the pressure of his fingers and the warmth in his eyes made the breath catch in her throat.

To be shown affection was such a rare and surprising gift that she clung to his fingers, unwilling to end a contact that felt so good.

Virtually family.

Never in her most extravagant fantasies would she have allowed herself to imagine a father as amazing as him. ‘How are you?’ Looking at him now, she could see that he’d lost weight and that his face had a greyish tinge.

‘Better now I have something beautiful to look at. The nurses Angelos found—’ He peered around him to check that the nurse was out of earshot and then pulled a face. ‘He might as well have employed men.’

‘Believe me, I tried,’ Angelos said sternly. ‘You’re not supposed to be looking at the nurses.’

‘I’m not.’ Costas sounded gloomy. ‘What is there to look at? That woman has the appeal of a wrestler. If she gets bored with nursing she could be a prison governor. Why did you employ her?’

‘I employed her because her credentials are excellent. She tells me you haven’t been eating.’

‘She is a spy,’ Costas grumbled, still holding Chantal’s hands. ‘Yesterday I tipped my medicine into a plant, and she immediately delivered another dose. Obviously she was watching from the bushes.’

Chantal chuckled. ‘So that’s why the garden is looking so good.’

Costas laughed too. Only Angleos wasn’t amused.

‘I’m paying her to make sure you make a full recovery.’

‘If life is going to be this tedious I’m not sure that I want to. Still—’ Costas lifted both Chantal’s hands to his lips and kissed them gallantly. ‘You’re here now, and that changes everything.’

‘Take your hands off my woman,’ Angelos drawled, his expression faintly exasperated as he firmly removed Chantal’s hands from his father’s and enclosed them in a cool, hard grip. ‘It isn’t good for your blood pressure.’

‘You have nothing to fear from me, Angelos.’ His father looked suddenly tired, but the smile lingered in his eyes. ‘The way she was looking at you a moment ago—no one else existed. That is how love should be. A woman in love can be in a crowd of handsome men, but she sees only one of them.’

Realising that it was true, Chantal felt suddenly vulnerable. She’d looked at Angelos. And he’d looked at her. The difference was that Angelos had been acting a part, whereas her reaction had been genuine. For a moment she’d forgotten that none of this was real. Staring into his eyes, she’d been taken straight back to those endless minutes on the dance floor, where their connection had been disturbingly intense and entirely genuine. The attraction between them had been primal and instinctive, undiluted by the complications of identity.

Costas sank into the nearest chair, as if standing was just too much. ‘We haven’t even been officially introduced.’

‘I’m Chantal,’ she said, and then caught the sardonic lift of Angelos’s brows and knew instantly what he was thinking. That she was embarrassed to admit her true identity.

And the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. She’d spent her life trying to be someone different, but now that she’d been offered a genuine alias she didn’t want to take it.

She didn’t want to be a woman who took money from a man.

It wasn’t that she aspired to be perfect. Far from it. But that was the one sin she wasn’t prepared to commit.

Maybe if Isabelle had been someone different she would have sat comfortably in her shoes for a few days, but as it was she was beginning to wonder whether her failure to confess her identity had been a mistake.

Costas sat for a moment, his weathered hand clutching the edge of the table.

Angelos stepped closer, a frown in his eyes. ‘Are you unwell?’ There was no missing the sharp anxiety in his voice, and Chantal found herself experiencing the same anxiety.

Costas Zouvelekis looked drained and exhausted, as if almost all of the life had been drained from him. She remembered him as an energetic, good-humoured man, and was shocked that his illness could have wrought such changes in such a short time.

‘I’m fine. Don’t fuss.’ He glared at Angelos, and there was pride in his eyes. Then he said something in Greek, and Chantal knew from the sudden tension in Angelos’s powerful frame that Costas had been talking about her.

‘I’m sure you have family matters you want to discuss, so I’ll just—’

‘You are family.’ Costas gestured to the chair opposite. ‘Sit down, and Maria will fetch you a drink to celebrate the occasion. The day my son finally brings a girl to his real home. Until I saw you in the boat I still couldn’t believe it would happen. You have made me a very, very happy man.’

The nurse stepped out onto the terrace. ‘You should take a nap before dinner, Mr Zouvelekis.’

Costas scowled. ‘Nap? What am I? A baby?’ But he rose to his feet swiftly, as if relieved that someone had suggested it. His gaze softened as he looked at Chantal. ‘I would feel guilty leaving you when you’ve only just arrived, but I’m sure Angelos will find a way of entertaining you in the meantime.’ His saucy wink implied that he knew exactly what form that entertainment was likely to take, but Angelos simply smiled as he strolled forward and helped his father to his feet.

Chantal watched the two of them, envy closing her throat. So it hadn’t been her imagination. Angelos was capable of gentleness. It was there in his eyes when he talked to his father, and it stayed there until his father was safely in the villa and out of sight.

Only then did he turn to her, and the sudden chill in his eyes was a blunt reminder that she was only here because of his love for her father.

‘Chantal?’ His voice heavy with emphasis, Angelos sat back in his chair and contemplated her with ill-concealed mockery in his eyes. ‘Changing the name doesn’t change the person, agape mou. Remember that.’

‘Chantal is my name.’

He smiled and reached for the jug of iced fruit juice that Maria had placed on the table in front of them. ‘I should imagine that it’s useful to have more than one name.’

His contempt for her stung, and she rose to her feet. ‘I think I’ll go and shower and change.’

‘Sit down.’ His voice was so soft that it barely reached her ears, but there was no missing the authority in his tone and she sat in automatic response.

Only afterwards did she wonder why she’d responded without question.

‘Do you expect everyone to obey you?’

‘No. In fact I enjoy being challenged. There is no point in winning if there is no one else in the race.’

It was the sort of remark she’d come to expect of him. He was so confident about everything. So sure of himself. There was no doubt in her mind that this man had never felt out of place in his life. ‘If you’re bored, then please feel free to go and find something more interesting to do,’ she muttered. ‘Don’t feel you have to entertain me. I’ll be perfectly fine on my own.’

In fact she wished he would leave her on her own, because then she could talk some sense into herself. She found him incredibly, impossibly distracting and it was ridiculous to feel this way when he clearly considered the chemistry between them to be nothing short of an inconvenience.

Looking at his dark, luxuriant lashes and his wide, sensuous mouth, she felt the strength ooze from her body. She just wanted him to kiss her.

Those dark eyes locked on hers and the strength of the connection between them was so powerful that it shook her. ‘My father likes you.’

‘And I like him.’ Her mouth was dry and her heart was thumping. ‘He’s an extremely nice man.’

They were talking about his father, but she knew, she just knew, that he was as distracted as she was. The chemistry between them was a living thing, a wild and dangerous force, curling itself around them like a million invisible threads.

Did he want to kiss her, too?

Was he thinking what she was thinking?

As if in answer to her question, Angelos dropped his gaze to her mouth and his eyes darkened. ‘“Nice” is a non-descriptive word that should almost always be substituted with something more specific. What are you trying to say? That’s he’s rich? Quite handsome for his age?’

They were talking, and yet an entirely different conversation was going on between them—one that didn’t involve words. The air vibrated with the force of it, and Chantal’s nerves were strained tight. She didn’t understand what was happening. It wasn’t as if they were flirting. In fact, the words they were exchanging were barely civil.

‘I’m trying to say that he’s kind and approachable.’ The heat around them rose to stifling proportions and her heart thumped uncomfortably. The atmosphere made her feel so jumpy that she was about to stand up in an attempt to disturb the tension when Maria walked onto the terrace and quietly informed Angelos that he was needed on the phone.

Her words shattered the explosive atmosphere and achieved what neither of them had managed to achieve by themselves.

With a sharply indrawn breath, Angelos rose to his feet. ‘It will be the Athens office.’ He looked at Chantal, but his glance was brief, as if he didn’t trust himself to look for longer. ‘This is going to take a while. Maria will show you to your room.’

CHAPTER FIVE

CHANTAL watched as he walked away from her, hating herself for feeling regret at his departure. What was it about him that was so irresistibly attractive? He was breathtakingly handsome, of course, but it couldn’t be just that, could it? Perhaps it was his strength—that aura of power that clung to him—or perhaps it was something else entirely.

It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that she was helplessly, hopelessly attracted to him and it didn’t make any difference that their relationship had been doomed from the start.

Their mutual desire was awkward, she admitted silently, finally turning her head and studying the still, glass-like surface of the pool. Confusing. He didn’t want to feel it because Isabelle clearly wasn’t the sort of woman who drew his admiration. She didn’t want to feel it because he wasn’t the sort of man she could ever get involved with.

Suddenly aware that Maria was waiting patiently to escort her into the villa, Chantal rose quickly and followed her down a different path and into a fabulous bedroom suite that opened directly onto the pool terrace. It was light and airy, decorated entirely in white, and brightened by touches of deep blue. Colourful oil paintings adorned the walls and a large rug softened the floor. It was tasteful and understated, and as she glanced through an open door into a spacious, marble bathroom Chantal tried not to look over-awed.

If this was a guest bedroom, she couldn’t begin to imagine what the master suite was like—and if Angelos Zouvelekis thought this was living ‘simply’ then she could only feel relieved that she wouldn’t be exposed to any of the other aspects of his life.

But she already knew that their lives were as different as it was possible to be. He had wealth and he had family. She had neither. And as for possessions—

She turned and glanced at her one small case, which now stood in the middle of the room. It was a forlorn reminder of the fundamental differences in their lives.

What was she doing here?

Maria was watching her, her expression sympathetic, as if she sensed Chantal’s growing misery.

‘I will help you unpack,’ she volunteered, but Chantal shook her head vigorously, her face burning with embarrassment at the thought of this woman seeing her lack of belongings.

She waited for Maria to leave, then opened the case herself and stared at the few outfits she’d brought with her.

Two dresses, a skirt, a pair of shorts, a few cheap tops and a swimming costume.

That was it. Nothing glamorous. Nothing that suited a few hedonistic weeks with a billionaire.

She didn’t belong here.

What arrogance had made her think her presence would have any effect on his father’s recovery? It was inevitable that Costas Zouvelekis would discover that their relationship wasn’t real and once he discovered the truth everything would be worse.

She should never have come.

And she should never have used that ticket to the ball.

Pretending was one thing; actually trying to live a life that wasn’t hers was dangerous and delusional.

But what could she do? For the time being, at least, she was trapped here and she had to make the best of it.

She fingered one of the dresses, wondering whether she could adapt it in some way. Or perhaps she didn’t need to. Angelos had said that there was no dressing up on the island, so hopefully what she’d brought with her would be fine. She just had a sinking feeling that her idea of simple and his weren’t going to coincide.

Hot and uncomfortable after her journey, she was just contemplating a shower when a faint breeze blew through the window. Walking across to the open doors, Chantal stared at the pool glistening in the afternoon sunlight. The water looked cool and inviting, and she couldn’t think of a reason why she shouldn’t swim.

Angelos was working and Costas was resting, so no one would be watching her. And by the time Angelos returned from making his next million she would be back in her room.

In fact, if she was very clever, it might be possible to avoid him for the entire fortnight. If Angelos worked during the day then their paths would only cross at mealtimes.

Angelos completed the last of his phone calls and ran a hand over his face in mounting frustration.

It was clear that his presence was needed in Athens. Ordinarily he would have taken a helicopter back to the city for a few days, but he didn’t feel comfortable leaving until he was satisfied that his father was making a good recovery. Nor did he want to leave the older man with a woman less than half his age—especially when the woman in question fulfilled his father’s definition of female perfection and was known to favour older men.

Just thinking about her made his stress levels soar to dangerous heights and he rose to his feet with a soft curse, rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension that had been mounting since he’d picked her up from the streets of Paris.

His body was humming with unfulfilled desire and he suppressed it ruthlessly.

What he needed was exercise: a hard, demanding physical workout that would use up some of his excess energy and take his mind off his ravenous libido. A hundred laps of the pool would be nowhere near as mentally and physically invigorating as truly satisfying sex, but it was the only thing on offer so it would have to do.

He flicked off the computer, found a pair of swimming shorts and strolled out onto the terrace, flexing the muscles of his shoulders in readiness.

So focused was he on his own needs that he felt a flare of irritation when he heard a soft splash coming from the pool and realised that someone else had shared his idea.

It couldn’t be his father, because he was resting, which meant that it could only be the one person he’d been hoping to avoid.

His first reaction was to acknowledge that she was a remarkably good swimmer. Accustomed to women who preferred to pose by the edge of the pool rather than actually expose themselves to the realities of getting wet, he watched for a moment, surprised by her skill. She slid through the water with the fluid grace of a sea creature and Angelos was gripped by an attack of lust so powerful that it shocked him.

Also accustomed to being with women whose choice of swimwear could only be described as minimal, he couldn’t immediately understand why a plain black swimming costume, clearly designed for sport rather than seduction, could have had such a powerful effect on him. A few minutes of studied concentration gave him the answer. His reaction had nothing to do with the swimming costume itself and everything to do with the woman wearing it.

The costume moulded to her shapely body, emphasising her long, slender legs, the tempting curve of her hips and her astonishingly small waist. Her body was incredible, and a rush of red-hot lust engulfed him. His reaction to her was so absolutely primitive that he took a step backwards, seriously disconcerted by the almost overpowering response of his body. He was not a man who indulged in thoughtless, mindless sex. Not since his teenage years had impulse played any part in his relationships.

It was true that beautiful women played an extremely important part in his life, but he was fiercely exacting in his choice and he was always the one in control. He made the rules. Relationships began and ended when he decided they should begin and end.

Understanding the true meaning of the word temptation for the first time in his life, Angelos inhaled deeply and attempted to obliterate thoughts that were as inappropriate as they were unwelcome. But his head was filled with a disturbingly clear image of her lush breasts trapped against his body and those long, long legs wrapped around his waist.

After the stress of the past two weeks, all he wanted to do was drag her out of the pool, strip her naked, and slake his lust in a vigorous session of mindless sex designed to leave them both numb and exhausted. At that precise moment he didn’t actually care that she represented everything he despised in a woman. He’d even stopped caring that she’d ripped off two vulnerable men. How could that possibly affect him? Vulnerable wasn’t a word that appeared in his vocabulary, so he wasn’t in the least bit worried for himself. He was as tough and uncompromising as she was and all that interested him was a thorough exploration of the physical connection that drew them together.

Trapped in a vortex of sexual hunger, he suddenly acknowledged a more immediate problem.

Once she finished the lap and saw him, she’d also see the very visible outwards signs of his reaction to her.

Solving the problem with his customary decisiveness, Angelos strode to the edge of the pool and executed a perfect dive, plunging head-first into the deep end and allowing the cool water to close around his thoroughly overheated body.

He rose to the surface and then powered through the water in a perfect crawl, reaching the side just as she turned.

He saw from the shock in her eyes that she hadn’t been aware of his presence until that moment.

‘I didn’t know anyone was—I thought you were working—’ The water clung to her cheeks and her upper lip, and her dark eyelashes were fused into spikes. Far from attempting to keep her hair dry and away from the vicious attack of the pool chemicals, she’d obviously swum under the water and it now lay sleek and smooth against her head. Wet, it was darker than its usual shade, but her eyes still sparkled the same miraculous blue.

Disconcerted by the feeling that this whole situation was slowly spiralling out of control, Angelos dragged his eyes away from the tempting fullness of her mouth. The cold water was supposed to have helped.

‘I needed some exercise.’ Suddenly he wished he’d chosen a run on the beach as an alternative to the swim. It would have been hot, but he doubted that it was possible to be any hotter than he was at the moment. His entire body felt as though someone had lit a furnace inside it.

How was it possible to feel hot in cold water?

‘Did you finish your business?’ It was an innocent enough question, but sufficient to remind him of the stress he’d been trying to put out of his mind.

‘For now.’ Deciding that lingering next to her was putting unacceptable pressure on his self-control, Angelos terminated the conversation by plunging forward and swimming twenty lengths in rapid succession, pushing his body to the limits as he chose athletic endeavour as a means to work off some of his mounting tension.