Greek Mavericks: At The Greek's Pleasure

She wanted to find that boy again. Strip off the layers and layers he’d put over the person he’d been. The one she had... Well, the one she had felt so many things for.

She let her eyes flutter closed again, and when she opened them, they had landed in Greece. Customs and passports and the like were handled in an efficient manner involving people coming to them and apologizing for any delays. After that, they were ushered into a limousine, all their bags packed quickly into the trunk as they departed straight from the plane to the highway.

Athens was an incredible sprawl she hadn’t accurately pictured in her mind. The rolling hills were capped with white, not from snow, but from the stone houses packed tightly together, flowing along with the landscape.

The downtown wasn’t anything like the glass-and-steel jungle of Manhattan. Ancient structures mixed with more modern buildings, the history and heritage of the nation evident in the intricate stonework, the massive pillars and marketplaces scattered throughout.

“Where are we going?”

“I have a villa just outside the city.”

“Of course you do,” she said. “But I thought we were going to your offices?”

“We will. At some point. But some adjustments have been made to accommodate some of our new goals.”

“Meaning what?” she asked, tearing her eyes away from the scenery to look at him.

“I don’t think it’s that difficult to guess.”

They drove out of the city, winding up the steep, packed hillsides. They escaped the sprawl, moving to an area where trees were more plentiful. Where houses were a little bit less common. Until they reached the top of a completely vacant hill that overlooked the sea. There, behind a secure set of wrought-iron gates was a white stone house that was even more imposing than the St. James family estate in upstate New York.

“Is this your primary residence now?”

He lifted his shoulder. “As much as any place, I suppose. It is my home, after all.”

“I do know that. You were born here. You left here when you were eight.”

His focus sharpened. “Have you been reading unauthorized biographies?”

“No,” she said. “I just paid attention when you used to speak around the dinner table. I used to know you, Apollo, as difficult as it is to remember back that far.”

An emotion she couldn’t put a name to flashed through his eyes. “I did not realize such memories were worth saving.”

“Know your enemy, and all of that.”

“I suppose so.”

The limousine pulled closer to the house, and the driver put the car into Park. Elle opened up her own door, stepping out and looking up at the house. To her, it looked like a lot of cubes of varying sizes stacked on top of each other, large windows on all sides looking out at the hills behind them, and the ocean before them.

“It doesn’t seem like you’re afforded very much privacy,” she said.

“Are you concerned that the village will see you naked? Because make no mistake, most of the time spent in this house will be spent without clothes.”

The dark, sensual promise should have frightened her, offended her. Instead, it excited her.

“The thought crossed my mind,” she said. No point in playing the prude now. Not when he knew full well she wasn’t.

“Never fear. I can tint the windows at the flick of a switch, and we won’t even have to sacrifice the view. But good to know you are on the same page as I am.”

“I have great concern for my modesty.” And her sanity.

“Well, I hope you don’t concern yourself much with it in my presence.” He walked ahead of her, moving to the front of the house. “Our things will be brought in momentarily. Come, let me show you around.”

She followed him inside, her heart hammering, her mouth suddenly dry. She didn’t know what might happen next. If he was going to strip her of her clothing immediately and press her up against a wall again. And if he did, what would she do? She would capitulate. She knew that from experience.

But he didn’t make a move to touch her. Instead, he paused in the expansive entryway. “I think this is self-explanatory,” he said, indicating the living area with the low-profile couch that was up against the wall, curving around to another. “Beyond that is the pool.” He walked ahead, up the open staircase that led to the second floor. She followed him. “My office,” he said. “The library, kitchen and dining area. I felt the second floor made for a slightly better view.” He continued straight up the stairs, to the third floor and she quickened her pace to keep up. “That way is my room,” he said, pointing down to the left. “And then here you will find yours.” The opposite direction from his. He began to walk to her room, and she followed, feeling a little bit like a lost puppy afraid of losing sight of her master.

He pushed the door open and revealed a light and airy space. Everything was white. The bedspread, the gauzy curtains that hung around the bed frame. There were no curtains on the windows, just as with the rest of the house. The square, unobstructed glass pane afforded a brilliant view of the jewel-bright sea, and let in the pale, sun-washed light.

“There are several settings for the windows. One is a blackout setting. That way the sun won’t disturb your sleep,” he explained.

She nodded. “I’m not sure I understand,” she said, looking around the room. “I thought we would be sharing a room.”

He chuckled. “I don’t sleep with my lovers, agape. I have sex with them. We don’t need to share a bedroom for that.”

Dammit. He managed to make her feel completely gauche and out of her depth even though she was doing her best to appear like all of this was commonplace for her. She’d been feeling like she was succeeding. Until this moment. She gritted her teeth. “Of course. How could I be so silly?”

“I imagine you typically date nice boys who like to spend the evening making love before they pull you close and cuddle you.”

His mocking tone burned her down deep. She was starting to feel at a disadvantage again. She would not allow it. “Do I seem like the type of woman who enjoys cuddling?” she asked, arching a brow. “You cannot possibly guess at the sort of man I typically associate with. You don’t even know me. Not even a little bit. You know what I’ve bothered to show you, and that’s all.”

“My mistake. If you will excuse me, I’m going to get ready for this evening. And I have a bit of work to catch up on.”

“You worked the entire time we were on the plane.”

“Impatient for me?”

She swallowed hard. She swallowed her honest answer, which was most definitely yes. “Just concerned you’re going to fall over at the age of twenty-nine from high blood pressure or something.”

“Your concern is touching. I will see you this evening for the charity gala.”

He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

She turned and looked out the window, gazing at the view. For some reason, this time, she had the feeling of being inside of a terrarium, but it didn’t feel quite so open. Once that thought entered her mind she felt as if she were some kind of creature he was keeping in a cage until he was ready to take her out and play with her.

Somehow, back in New York this had all felt equal, like they were in the same space, wanting the same things. But not now. Silly, because he owned her company. She should not have felt equal with him in the workplace. Should not have felt like they were on the same footing at all. And yet, for some reason—her pride, her intense dedication to her business persona—she had felt like they were.

But not here. In his house, in this show of his incredible wealth, she felt vulnerable. Powerless. She was in his home country, a place where she didn’t even speak the language, trapped in his house on the hill.

She wondered, for a moment, if this was what he had felt. Walking into her family home as a teenager, his mother engaged to a powerful man so far above her station. And he had been greeted by a stepsister so consumed with her own feelings, her own issues, that she’d been nothing but horrible. Had done nothing but try to make him feel completely unequal to the place.

She blinked, pushing back an unwanted wave of sympathy. That was in the past. What she’d done had been out of girlish fear of the strength of her feelings.

Apollo was not acting as a boy, reacting to fear. He wasn’t reacting at all. He was a man on the warpath, and God help her if she got in his way.

CHAPTER FIVE

WHEN ELLE APPEARED at the top of the stairs that evening wearing the silk gown that he’d had sent up to the room earlier, Apollo wasn’t sure he had the strength to attend the gala. No, most of him wanted to grab hold of her and drag her straight into her bedroom and strip it off her.

The emerald green silk gown seemed almost demure in the front. It had a high neckline, the delicate, shiny fabric skimming her curves. It rippled when she walked down the stairs, flowing over her body like water.

But it was the back he couldn’t wait to see. He had selected the dress for that very reason. True to his word, he was intent on raising her profile in the company. All the better to make her family’s humiliation more apparent. If no one knew who the St. James family were, if they were only aware of the companies, while the family itself remained faceless, his disgrace of them would not carry the impact he required.

In a few weeks he would cut ties completely. He would let her drown along with her father and the rest of the St. James family.

It was cruel. But what David St. James had done to Apollo’s father, the way he had manipulated Apollo’s mother...

He forced himself to smile at her. To practice some form of charm. He did possess it, after all. Though he didn’t often exercise it when dealing with Elle. He could have any woman he wanted, and had, even before he had become the man he was now.

The girls he had associated with from nearby all-girls institutes back when he had been a teenager had found him fascinating. None of them had ever intended on taking him home to meet their parents. But a great many of them had taken him to nearby gazebos, backseats of cars and vacant dorm rooms. He might not be the kind of man they could proudly claim, but they had certainly found him attractive enough for certain uses.

Of course, Elle had already proven she had no issues using him for her physical satisfaction while she despised him on a personal level. So, he supposed that there was no point in attempting to be charming now.

All thoughts of charm or anything else were completely emptied from his mind when he saw the side of the gown as she reached the bottom of the stairs. He could think of nothing more than the possibility of stripping it from her body now.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice hard.

“Why?” she asked, turning to face him, her hands clasped in front of her, demure, as though she had no idea what she was doing to him.

“Turn around,” he said, deciding that he would forgo charm completely.

A flash of color spread up her neck, into her cheeks. Clearly, even if it made her angry, she quite enjoyed it when he gave orders. She turned slowly, teasing him by taking her time. And when she revealed her back fully, his stomach tightened, his blood pooling in his groin.

The back of the dress was a deep V ending just above the curve of her rear, exposing her entire back, the edges glittering with delicate beadwork. The seams over the silken material served to enhance the round shape of her backside, creating an even more dramatic shape to her curves.

He wanted to take her back upstairs, not just so he could have his way with her, but so he could keep any other man from laying eyes on what he thought of as his.

“It does not matter how many men have come before me,” he said, not realizing he was speaking the words out loud until they had already escaped his mouth. “You are mine now. You have always been mine, Elle.” The words were more raw, more real than he’d intended.

But then, this feeling was more raw, more real than anything that had ever come before it.

He saw attachments for what they were. Saw clearly how easily feelings could be manipulated. But what he felt for Elle was beyond him. It could never be distilled into one neat emotion. Could hardly ever be defined.

He needed it gone. Needed to burn it out. So that in the end he could walk away from the St. James family and never look back.

Walk away from her.

She turned to face him, her signature red ponytail swinging along with the movement. “That’s quite possessive,” she said.

“I’m kind of a bastard. You have agreed to be my mistress until such time as we have burned out the attraction between us. That means you are mine. And mine alone.”

“I hardly make a habit of overlapping lovers.”

He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, planting his hand firmly at the center of her back and drawing her close to him. “I would not permit it.”

“You might own my company, Apollo,” she said, her voice low, sultry, “but you do not own me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, I think,” he said, sliding his hand up the center of her back, cupping the back of her head. “Because for now those two things are the same. I own both the company and you.”

“You’re a caveman.”

He wrapped his fingers around her ponytail, tugging hard. “Shall I drag you back to my lair?”

She gasped, the sound one of arousal, not fear.

“You can pretend to hate this thing between us all you want. You can pretend to hate my commands. But we both know that no matter how shocked and appalled you pretend to be, you want this. You want me.”

She leaned in slightly, and he kept his hold tight on her hair. Then she pressed her lips gently against his before biting him hard. “I might want you,” she said, “but it is not the way a woman should want a man.”

“Take your hair down.”

“I refuse to give in to your every command.”

He shifted his hold on her, grabbing the bobby pin that was buried in the ponytail that wrapped one coppery strand around the rubber band that secured her hair, concealing it from view. Then he grabbed the rubber band itself, pulling it free.

Her red hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves, extra full because of the way it had been restrained.

She frowned, her brows locked together. “I can’t go like this. My hair is a mess.”

“It is perfect.”

“I do not have to wear my hair to please you.”

“Your hair pleases me however it is fixed,” he said. “But this way, this way, all I can think about is burying my fingers in it. Pulling you toward me. Kissing you deeply. With it like this, I want nothing more than to take you straight back upstairs and make you scream my name. And so, I leave the final decision on how you wear it up to you.”

She tilted her chin upward. “Well, it’s already down.”

He chuckled, the soundboard of satisfaction. “I thought you might come to that conclusion.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I prefer you without a tie.”

“It is a formal event.”

“Without the black tie, with the first button on your shirt undone, so that I can just see your chest hair, all I can think of is you tearing the shirt open the rest of the way so that I can put my hands on your hard muscles. So that I can feel your heartbeat raging against my palms. I can think of nothing but leaning in, running my tongue over your skin. And so,” she said, arching her brow before turning away from him. “It is up to you.”

Apollo smiled and began to loosen his tie.

* * *

No matter that they were pretending to be merely business associates at the gala, Elle could not help but think the two of them looked like they had been engaged in sexual intimacy in the car on the way. Her hair was down, looking very much like he had already run his fingers through it. His shirt was undone, his tie long discarded.

And yet, they had not had the benefit of engaging in any kind of intimate activity.

When they had gotten in the limousine she had scooted as far away from him as possible, telling him she needed space, time to collect her thoughts. She did. She was exhausted, jet-lagged, and the nap she’d had earlier had only helped a little bit. Beyond that, she was still raw from their last encounter. And if they were supposed to appear in public together in a platonic fashion, she did not want the feeling of his touch lingering quite so strongly in the forefront of her mind.

Now though, she was regretting it. Now she sort of wished she had climbed onto his lap in the car and satisfied her desire for him. Anything to take the edge off the extreme arousal that was pounding through her even now.

The gala itself was beautifully appointed, held in one of the oldest and most sophisticated hotels in Athens. When she arrived, she was surprised to see that Apollo’s name was on everything.

“You didn’t tell me that it was your charity gala we were attending.”

He shrugged his shoulder, taking a glass of Champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. “It did not seem important.”

“I think it is rather important. I wasn’t aware that you had founded the charity.”

“It’s very boring. Press junket stuff. The kind of thing that one says to improve their reputation with the media. It’s a game I scarcely have the patience to play at the best of times. I did not see the point in trying to convince you that I was somehow a paragon of virtue simply because I donate money to impoverished families.”

“You do?” In spite of everything she knew about him, in spite of her feelings about him, she could feel herself softening.

“Yes. Do not look at me like that. I am a businessman. Believe me when I tell you this benefits me in financial ways.”

“Why are you so resistant to being seen as good in any fashion?”

“I do not like to raise people’s expectations.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because they will find themselves disappointed.”

She looked around, taking in the beautifully appointed marble interior of the hotel, the impressive pillars, the glittering chandeliers. Couples dressed in the finest couture were already making their way out to the dance floor. She wished she could dance with Apollo. That he would take her into his strong arms and pull her up against his chest, hold her...just to hold her. So that she could relish his strength, his heat, if only for a moment.

She shook her head. That was extreme foolishness. She wanted nothing more from Apollo than for him to leave her alone and allow her to run their business as she saw fit. Well, that and sex for the sake of sex, until they had burned out the attraction between them.

She did not want him to hold her. She did not want to press her head up against his chest and listen to the sound of his heart. Did not want to spend an hour kissing him, just kissing him. No, she didn’t want any of those things.

“I shall introduce you to some of my associates,” Apollo said. “And to some of the members of the press who are in attendance.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” she said, keeping her tone light.

He pressed his hand lightly on her back, guiding her toward a group of people who were standing there conversing. He made introductions, and dropped his hand quickly back to his side, bringing a great deal of distance between the two of them as he shifted his position within the group.

One of the men was a businessman from Italy, another a Greek, who had his business in the United States. They started to make conversation about staying relevant in the age of the internet and online superstores, and she was so lost in the discussion that it took her a while to notice that Apollo was no longer standing next to her. She frowned, searching the crowd quickly. And then she spotted him, out on the dance floor with a blonde woman wearing a dress with a hem that fell just beneath her butt cheeks. Rather nice butt cheeks too, Elle was loath to admit.

She fought to keep the scowl off her face. She knew that they were supposed to be playing the part of business associates but she felt this was taking it a bit far.

“I see Mr. Savas has abandoned you,” the Greek man, Nikos Vardalos, said.

“Not at all,” she said, taking a deep breath. “We are not here together. Mr. Savas is able to dance with whoever he chooses.”

“Then I suppose you are free to dance with whoever you choose?”

She could always tell him she had a boyfriend. She often did that when confronted with men she wasn’t attracted to in these kinds of situations. But Nikos was handsome enough, and Apollo was dancing with someone else. Really, it seemed rather silly for her to stay hidden away in a corner.

“Absolutely,” she said. “I am always free to do whatever I want.”

He laughed, treating her to a smile that she had no doubt often made women go weak in the knees. Sadly, not her. Not now.

But she pretended. She offered a smile in return.

“I like a woman who knows her mind. And does your mind tell you that you might want to dance with me?”

“I would be delighted.”

He extended his hand, and she accepted it, wrapping her fingers around his. His touch was warm, but it did not light her on fire, not the way that Apollo’s did. It was sort of comforting, to have a man touch her like this, and for her to feel so very little.

Every interaction with Apollo, every brush of his skin against hers, was so layered. Was so hot, so intense, she couldn’t ignore it, or pretend it hadn’t burned. It was never simple. It was always hate spread over lust, spread over a strange attachment that stemmed from all of the years they had known each other. And betrayal. The betrayal that was unique to what she felt for him because of how well they had known each other. Because of how she had felt about him for so long.

Because of the way she had trusted him.

And you betray your father by sleeping with this man. By wanting him.

Still, she couldn’t help herself. Still, she could feel nothing as Nikos pulled her into his arms and swept her onto the dance floor. Still, she felt more when she looked across the crowded room and locked eyes with Apollo, who was glaring at her and her dance partner with dark rage.

Fine. He was welcome to be murderous. She didn’t particularly care. They were here separately. He was dancing with another woman, and she would be damned if she would play the part of wallflower.

She shifted her hands lightly on her partner’s shoulder, tightening her grip on his hand.

“I think Savas wants to kill me,” Nikos said, his tone tinged with amusement.

“Oh, I don’t suppose he wants to kill you,” she said, her tone dry. “Anyway, he and I are associates, as I said before. And neither of us believes in mixing business with pleasure.”

“Excellent. Then I shall never do business with you.”

She laughed. “Well, that would be a shame. Since you are in retail, I would very much like to do business with you.”

“Perhaps it is crass of me to discuss this during a dance,” he said, “but tell me more.”

They spent the next two songs largely ignoring the music and discussing the various ways in which they could marry their two brands. She decided that she liked Nikos quite a bit even if he did not make her heart beat faster.

She only wished that he could.

He was Greek, he was wealthy, he had a hint of a gorgeous accent. Truly, if she had a type, this was it. If any other man was going to start a fire in her loins quite the way that Apollo did, this man would. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was an extreme disappointment.

Still, though she had not found a way to encourage desire toward another man, she had come away with a very promising business contact. They parted at the end of the song, and he did not try to make any sort of romantic overture. He must’ve sensed the lack of chemistry as profoundly as she did.