Kidnapped by the Greek Billionaire (5 page)

A ripple of excitement made her heart beat a little faster, the sparkling, bejeweled vista reminding her of what it was like to be a small child. It looked like fairyland—a picture-perfect,
Christmas
fairyland!

She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the whisper of waves breaking on the beach but opened them quickly when her ears registered the distant bleat of a goat. Kizzy spotted its proud, male horns and lithe body, an inky silhouette fixed between the gray tangle of rocks and astonishing orange-purple skyline.

“Beautiful.”

Kizzy’s body jerked with surprise at the sound of Andreas’s voice, behind her. His deep tones reverberated through her body, and he was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.

“Yes,” she replied tensely, trying to quell the breathlessness that his sudden proximity was causing. “It’s the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured softly as his hands slipped around her waist. “Utterly beguiling.”

Chapter Four

“This is where the billionaire lifestyle stops for a while,” Andreas announced as they walked along a wooden jetty in the dusk.

Kizzy looked back at the yacht dominating the bay with its luxurious white and gold sparkle. She could hardly believe she had been on board only a few minutes earlier, feeling the hum of the engines beneath her feet and the thunder of her heart as Andreas had touched her again.

The curve of her waist, where his hands had held her, still bore the memory of his touch. Her skin burned with pleasure at how wonderful it had felt to be so physically close to him. To be held by anyone was an unusual experience for her—but by Andreas Lazarides?

It was a sensation she had better not get used to, she told herself firmly.

He was Greek, for goodness’ sake! Warm European cultures touched each other frequently; even men openly kissed one another in greeting. She was being ridiculous, allowing herself to imagine that Andreas could have any interest in her as a woman.

He’d only kissed her to make it clear who was boss around the place. And she knew her place all right.

Kizzy was perfectly accustomed to being at the bottom of any pecking order—her stepfather had made sure of that over the years, even to the extent of making sure she and her mother were made legally destitute upon his death. She couldn’t care less for herself; she’d have rather slept in a gutter than spend one more night under that roof. But her mother had suffered so much in her travesty of a marriage—she didn’t deserve to die in poverty, the final insult.

…

She was thinking again, Andreas observed.

Silently, he watched every twitch of her face, each tiny mannerism, waiting for the first clue that would expose her as a ruthless fortune-seeker.

She was probably wondering how to claw her way back to his yacht after heroically refusing the five-star accommodations on offer. But it would take more than that
act of piety to convince him she was a humble, low-maintenance woman. She had refused to accept new clothes from him at first, but it hadn’t been long before she had given in.

“From here we take the Lindos taxi or continue on foot,” he announced gruffly at the end of the pontoon.

“Taxi?” Kizzy shielded her eyes against the harbor lights and squinted past the bustling taverna they were approaching. “I can’t see a road.”

“Correct,” he replied. “No road required.”

He smiled into the darkness as he led her around a corner to a cave set in the cliff behind the beach. It was dark and full of curious, wide-eyed donkeys.

“This is one of Lindos’ taxi ranks,” he announced. “Hairy and noisy, but totally at your service.”

Kizzy looked at the animals’ faces, noting the way their owner was clanking grumpily about with an armful of buckets.

She reached out to the nearest donkey and scratched its rough forehead. The beast closed its eyes in appreciation.

“They look tired,” she murmured, and turned on her heel. “Let’s walk.”

The donkey owner barked out a few grouchy sentences, then roughly threw a cracked leather bridle past Andreas into a crate.

Andreas frowned with interest as Kizzy made for the path outside. “Are you absolutely sure about that?”

Since when had a woman walked any farther than the jetty without complaining before now? He had been expecting an undignified wail about ruining her Louboutins.

Then he smiled. He’d almost missed the trick—she was wearing sensible pumps on the end of those shapely legs.

A happy coincidence? Or natural pragmatism?

Oh no, he didn’t think so. She was just very,
very
good at this game.

And those practical little slips of footwear? They’d cost three hundred euros and were embellished with mother of pearl. She was going to have to do better than that if she wanted to hide her true colors.

“That would be convenient,” Andreas replied, suddenly spotting an easy opportunity to further test Kizzy’s mettle. “Stavros has just informed me in no uncertain terms that the donkeys are finished for the night. And he doesn’t give a damn how many euros I’ve got.”

“Good for him,” she countered, and shot him a defiant smile before striking out up an extremely steep and rough path into the gloom.

…

“Are we going around in circles?” Kizzy muttered half an hour later, and pressed a shaking hand against her breastbone to steady her breathing.

The narrow paths and alleyways of Lindos village were bustling with life but she could no longer appreciate their fusion of color, noise and fragrance. She was far too hot and exhausted to care.

They had climbed achingly steep, narrow routes, worn smooth over the centuries, and she had stumbled a few times in her attempts to keep up with Andreas’s long strides. Naturally she had refused his offers of a steadying hand—she wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to consider her a weakling.

Ancient shop fronts, archways, and crumbled architecture formed an impenetrable canopy that gave only brief glimpses of the night sky and held in the warmth of the day like a thick blanket above their heads.

Kizzy realized she was becoming disoriented. The stars that were beginning to dance in front of her eyes were clearly a warning.

“Is it much farther?” she managed.

Andreas turned to look down at her, expecting to see a frowning, pouty little madam stamping her foot in annoyance. He had been set to continue his deliberately protracted and circuitous tour of the village in a cynical attempt to break her spirit, maybe even get her to explode into the spoiled diva she inevitably must be.

But looking at her now, she’d clearly had enough.

Staring down into the deep lilac of her eyes, Andreas saw that she was too weak even to prevent him from brushing away the damp lash of hair plastered to her forehead.

He felt a lurch of shame at the pit of his stomach.

He was starting to feel hot and bothered himself, and he’d been brought up with this heat whereas she—well, she was clearly struggling, and the last thing he wanted was for her to faint on him.

She was still in control of herself, he noted, not verging on hysteria as many women would have been. She was stron
g
, both physically and mentally. He was in danger of being impressed by that. But her hands were visibly shaking.

“We’re almost there,” he replied casually. “But we can stop for a cold drink—”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Kizzy replied with a determined shake of her head. She rubbed the small of her back. “I’m right behind you.”

Kizzy’s heart sank as he turned sharply left and marched up another claustrophobic alleyway, even if it was beautiful with geraniums and bougainvillea in shades she’d never seen before, lit up against ancient creamy stone. She had resolved to stay calm, but was so tired now that a flood of tears was welling up against her will.

“We’re here,” he announced, in the gloom of an extremely dark and quiet corner, adorned only by the battered frame of a scooter. “You can relax now.”

Was he kidding?

Alone, exhausted, vulnerable, and about to pass through a mysterious door in a deserted alley was not the best position in the world for a penniless woman in Greece. A sane person would be telling her to run as fast as she could away from this dangerous situation and Kizzy knew that, but her knees were wobbling and she was so exhausted she no longer cared what happened to her.

Her head spinning, she leaned against the wall to steady herself.

Andreas punched a series of numbers into a keypad set in a recess, and a heavy wooden door creaked open. Kizzy was vaguely aware of being guided through a dark, rocky tunnel and emerging into a basin of honeyed lamplight; a strong arm had somehow been threaded around her waist, warm and powerful.

The scent of jasmine and lemon blossom flooded her senses as a blurred, round shadow of a person rushed toward them, chattering in animated Greek. Kizzy felt small, cool hands press her down into a cushioned seat and it was only a matter of seconds before she heard the clank of ice cubes and a cool drink pressed against her lips.

The liquid soothed her parched throat as her eyes gradually began to focus. Before her, she saw the concerned face of an elderly woman whose eyes twinkled as she smoothed gnarled hands down Kizzy’s smoldering cheeks and tutted over her hot brow.

Another sip of homemade lemonade was gently offered before the woman straightened to deliver a blistering verbal attack on Andreas, hovering silently nearby. A rueful smile of contrition began to form on his face as her finger wagged in rapid time to what sounded like a fierce chastisement. She turned her back on him to give Kizzy her full attention.

“I sorry, my English not so good.” Her smile was warm and inquisitive. “I show you room and then you eat, yes?”

Kizzy sighed with embarrassment. “That’s very kind of you, and thank you for the drink; it was most welcome. But I’m afraid I can’t stay here.”

“What Miss Dean is trying to say, Dorinda,” Andreas interjected firmly as he leaned on the back of Kizzy’s seat, “is that it has been a very long day. I will show her to her rooms when she has had time to recover her composure. We look forward to the meal you’ve prepared for us.”

Dorinda smiled with pleasure as Andreas playfully shooed her in the direction of an open door in the walled courtyard.

“You’ve put me in a very awkward position now,” Kizzy whispered hoarsely. “I said I couldn’t afford to stay in a place like this. Now Dorinda has been so hospitable and kind, I’d feel rude if I just left.”

“So stay,” Andreas replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re going to make me spell it out again, aren’t you?” she said. “I have no money. I’ll have to request an advance on my first salary payment just to cover tonight.”

She pressed her lips together with humiliation and quickly glanced around at the intricate medieval stonework of the walled garden, the copper lanterns and luxurious potted plants. “Assuming my first month’s salary will
cover the cost of this place for the night.”

“It will be more than adequate,” he said with a smile. “Villa Madeline has a very low standard room rate as it happens.”

“But you said earlier on the boat that it was about five hundred euros a night!”

“Did you think I had just ignored you during that conversation?” His dark eyebrows rose in question. “Do I really come across as a thug who would deliberately go against a lady’s express wishes?”

“I don’t understand.” Kizzy felt her hands begin to shake with nerves again.

“Welcome to my Lindian home,” Andreas said, and saw her look of surprise. “I hope you enjoy staying here as much as I always do.”

He watched as her mouth opened to form a protest and then snapped quickly shut. She wasn’t prepared to slum it on the beach as a matter of principle, then?

Kizzy took a slow sip of her drink as her brain struggled to find a reasonable way forward from this awkward situation. She couldn’t think of anything more stressful than sharing an intimate meal with Andreas Lazarides—apart from spending a night under the same roof. Yet what choice did she have? She couldn’t easily turn down his generous hospitality. Andreas had acceded to her wishes regarding the hotel and was offering her free accommodation in his home.

The man was behaving in a perfectly respectable manner, for which she should be grateful. If she could just pull herself together and be rational about everything, she would see that things weren’t as awful as she imagined.

After all, how hard could staying in this fantastic place be?

“Your home is beautiful,” Kizzy managed. “And I’m grateful for your generous offer. But I will only burden you for as long as it takes to secure a suitable place of my own. In the meantime, I’ll be as unobtrusive as possible and will earn my keep.”

She got to her feet, reaching out to steady her empty glass as it tottered on the table. “And I can start by helping Dorinda with dinner.”

“Absolutely not!” Andreas rose to his full height to look at her. “Dorinda would never forgive either of us. The kitchen is her domain entirely and she’s ver
y
territorial.

“Please, sit back down,” he added less harshly. “It’s only been a few minutes since you arrived. Let your body recover.”

…

Andreas watched as Kizzy slowly resumed her seat. He found her almost overwhelmingly attractive, to the point that he’d come on to her like a teenager on the yacht earlier, and then had brought her to the point of exhaustion, just to see how she would react. He’d been cruel and arrogant, he realized, but now he would try to make amends for his behavior.

“We’ve been charging across the planet like lunatics for the last ten hours or so, and it’s just occurred to me that you must have someone to call, to let them know where you are.” He laughed uncomfortably at the angry glare she shot in his direction. “After all, you haven’t been kidnapped.”

“It does feel like I have.”

“You’re free to leave at any time,” Andreas told her, managing to suppress a surprising feeling of irritation. She was not
his
captive. “The door’s over there, you may leave whenever you wish.”