Pollyanna and the Greek Billionaire (Innocent and Betrayed) (4 page)

“Eight.”

“I can’t believe Abram’s your friend!”

Ah.
Kyr recognized the name easily.
Abram, one of the island’s local flirts
, he thought, and no doubt using his connections to win himself some points with the idiot in front of him.

“Six.”

“You skipped seven! You’re cheating!”

“No, I’m just being accurate. Five.”

“Liar!”

“Four.”

“I can’t believe—”

“Three.”

“You win!” Her grudging tone, combined with her disapproving glare, almost made him smile.
Almost.
“I asked Abram for a recommendation about where I could snorkel, for a reasonable price, and he told me I could borrow his gear from you.”

Silence.

“Can I?” she asked finally.

Kyr studied her from head to toe, his gaze deliberately insolent as it roamed her form. He took note of the lush red-gold silk of her hair, her creamy skin, and voluptuous curves. He suddenly remembered that he had not fucked a girl for almost a year now, and just as soon as the thought occurred, his cock twitched, as if saying it could do with a fuck.

Kyr glanced back at the girl, and his cock stretched and hardened. He thought dispassionately,
I could do worse.
And so Kyr heard himself say, “I know a good place to snorkel.”

She looked at him doubtfully, as if waiting for the catch.

Smart of her,
Kyr thought. Maybe she wasn’t that much of an idiot, after all. He continued easily, “It won’t cost you a thing, and it comes with free food as well as a ride on my yacht.”

Her eyes went wide, and her lips opened and closed.
 

She looked
, Kyr thought in amusement,
very much like a blowfish
.

“Did you just say
‘yacht?’
” Her voice was faint.

He didn’t answer and simply waited for the inevitable.

And to her credit, she was able to figure out the truth in the next second. “You’re not…Chris, aren’t you?”

“No.” He gave her a devastating smile, and Kyr wasn’t surprised at all that the girl reacted to it like all the others did. The only difference was that her blush seemed genuine enough.

“Who are you then?” she stammered.

“Does it matter?” Excitement was starting to stir in his blood in a way that he had not felt in
years.
He thought about how she would react to the other things he could show her, in the most intimate ways, and his excitement deepened.

In front of him, she was giving him another one of her ‘blowfish’ looks, and Kyr nearly smirked. A very cute blowfish she made, but it was still a blowfish, and he had never met a woman who could be so unguarded with her expressions like this one was.
 

“Of course it matters,” she was arguing with him. “I’m not that stupid. I won’t go anywhere with a stranger, especially someone like you.”

He raised a brow. “Someone like me?”

“Too rich for your own good,” she spelled out before hurrying to add red-faced, “No offense meant.”

Kyr mentally rolled his eyes.
Didn’t she know that insults lost their power when they were followed by apologies?
Pulling out his phone from his board shorts’ pocket, he dialed a number and when it started to ring, he handed it to her. “He will vouch for me.”
 

“Who is it?” Her tone was extremely suspicious.

Instead of answering, he deliberately surprised her by taking her hand, gently but firmly forcing her slender fingers to open so he could place his iPhone in her palm. “I’ll be waiting by the yacht.” He started walking away.

She gasped. “You are so—”

“And this time, I’ll give you…” He paused then said generously, “Two minutes.” He heard her gasp again, the sound teeming with frustration, and this time it did make him smile.

Chapter Two

“Master Kyrillos?” The voice that answered the call on the stranger’s phone – the stranger who was
not
Chris – was immediately familiar to Pollyanna.

“Abram?” she gasped.

The voice on the other end of the line gasped as well. “Is that you, Polly?”

It was Abram!

“Oh God, Polly,” Abram groaned. “Why do you have Master Kyr’s phone? What did you do?”

She didn’t know whether to feel confused or insulted.
Why was he assuming this was her fault? And Master Kyr? Who the heck was—

Pollyanna froze.
 

Wasn’t the name of Teleios’ reclusive owner…
Kyrillos Gazis?

“Polly? Are you there?”

Paling, she whispered through dry lips, “A-Abram, am I using Kyrillos Gazis’ phone?”

“Yes.” Abram’s tone was miserable. “What did you do, Polly?”

She was beginning to feel faint. “I think I…” She couldn’t think straight, too busy trying to recall the things she had said. Had she unintentionally insulted him in any way? What if he got back at Abram because of it? Or even Ezio and Dinah?

She suddenly remembered what she told him about Chris loaning Abram’s gear to her, and she whispered, “I think I got you into trouble.”
 

There was an audible gulp, but Abram answered her bravely, “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not your fault.”

“It is,” she countered guiltily. “I thought he was Chris, you see, and I told him what you told me, so now he knows, and…” She winced at the way Abram let out a girlish squeak of terror.
 

“The thing is, Polly, I lied, too,” Abram admitted in a low, shamed voice. “I really don’t have any gear there, but Chris is my bud, and…” His voice trailed off.

Feeling bad for Abram, Pollyanna forgot about her own worries and squared her shoulders, saying, “I’ll make things right, I promise.”

“But Polly, Master Kyrillos isn’t the type—”

She hurriedly cut him off, saying, “I, umm, got to go. I’ll call you later, okay?” The truth was, she didn’t want to hear anything discouraging about the island’s owner. She was already nervous as it was. She didn’t need to know more terrifying things about Kyrillos Gazis.
 

And then she belatedly remembered the warning issued to her.

Two minutes…
and she had what left?
 

Thirty or twenty seconds?

“You almost didn’t make it.” His tone was lazily amused, and pure wickedness gleamed in his compelling hazel eyes as he watched Pollyanna climb up into his yacht, collapse on the deck, and fight to catch her breath afterwards.
 

She wanted to kill him, but she was too tired to lift a muscle. Getting to his yacht in half a minute was no joke, especially when he had it moored a short distance away from the shore.

Still flat on her back on his deck, she opened her eyes and told him hopefully, “You can’t be as evil as you seem to be, right?”

Kyrillos Gazis only smiled. Bending down to take his phone from her hands, he asked with sham concern, “Has Abram allayed all your fears then?”

She made a face at him. “You. Know. He. Would.” But her retort sounded a thousand times lamer than it should have been, with the way she was still trying to catch her breath.
I’m going to exercise more after this,
Pollyanna vowed to herself.

With her expressive face revealing her every thought, Kyr struggled to rein in his amusement. When he was certain he could speak evenly, he said, “Follow me, please. And I’ll give you just thirty seconds to stand up this time.”

Pollyanna groaned, but knowing she was in no position to argue, she forced herself to move. “Tyrant,” she muttered under her breath.

“I heard that,” he said over his shoulder.

“You were meant to,” she retorted.

He laughed.
 

As Pollyanna followed behind him, she tried to rack her brains of whatever she knew about Kyrillos Gazis.
A billionaire,
she thought after a moment. She had definitely read somewhere that he was a billionaire
. But unlike other billionaires, he was no playboy
, she also recalled reading.
 

“Are you really not a playboy?” she blurted out loud.

Kyr almost lost his footing at the unexpected question. Halting in his tracks, he spun to face her. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry,” she said awkwardly. “I was just curious.”

He raised a brow. “Do you want me to be a playboy?”

It was her turn to be shocked. “Uh…”
What kind of question was that?
She couldn’t even imagine any other boy she knew who would think of asking the same thing. It was just so…

Manly.

The word came out of nowhere, but she knew, as soon as she thought it, that there was no better way to describe him.

Her gaze met the billionaire’s, and what she saw in his eyes made Pollyanna feel the strangest thing.

It started as the faintest tingle, but the electrifying sensation spread swiftly all over her body until she was almost beside herself with restlessness. She suddenly felt empty and aching and she didn’t understand why. Her breasts also felt different, like they were heavy and swollen, like they had to be…
what?

A shadow fell over her, and she gasped upon finding that the billionaire was standing right in front of her, so close that she smelled the scent of his aftershave, something masculine and exotic, which was exactly what he was.

This close, she became even more aware at how extraordinarily beautiful he was, like someone who was created to prove that Greek gods did exist. Those eyes were too intensely sexy, that nose too aristocratic, and his cheekbones to die for. His jawline was strong and hard, and oh Lord, let her not get started on the perfect shape of his lips—

Wait. A. Minute.

Where were all these horrendously shameful thoughts coming from?

Her eyes flew to the billionaire’s in miserable confusion, and oh, dear Lord, was it just her imagination or were those hazel eyes of his smirking at her knowingly?

One thing became clear to her then.

She had to leave before things got any…stranger.

“I, uh, just remembered something, uh…”
 

But just as she turned around, desperate to leave before she did anything stupid – which Pollyanna was terrified she was bound to do in the billionaire’s strangely hypnotic presence – she heard him say, “You haven’t answered my question.” His voice was seductively low, and dear Lord, the only time she heard someone who could speak like that
without
sounding like a conceited loser was when she was watching a George Clooney movie. That actor could speak a mixture of African-Chinese and still make it sound as sexy as French.

And yet,
Pollyanna thought with a gulp, the Hollywood actor had never managed to make her heart beat so hard and loud like the Greek billionaire behind her.
 

Without a word, she started walking away, intending to leave the yacht. But as soon as she took a step forward, she sensed Kyrillos Gazis coming after her, moving slowly but steadily like a predator deadly methodical in its pursuit.

She panicked and quickened her steps, stammering, “I really have to—”

Caught.

His hands, large, strong, and so unbelievably hot, settled on her slim shoulders from behind. His touch set her on fire, and Pollyanna stumbled to a stop.
Oh dear Lord, what was happening? Was this how being seduced felt?

Again, she sensed him taking a step closer, and then his breath was tickling her ear as he commanded, “Tell me your name.”
 

Her knees were wobbling precariously by the time he finished speaking, and she whispered helplessly, “Pollyanna.” A part of her thought he was being too high-handed, demanding her name rather than asking nicely for it, but a larger part of Pollyanna didn’t care at all. All this latter part of her cared about was how he made her feel so…strangely…
alive.

Again, the same question popped in her mind, and this time, she blurted it out, unable to stop herself.