Kidnapped by the Greek Billionaire (9 page)

“Don’t be so melodramatic!”

Andreas pushed himself out of his seat and stood against the low wall of the restaurant terrace with his back to her, his fists thrust into his pockets as he stared out toward the open sea.

She was right, he was forced to admit inwardly. To all intents and purposes she was a prisoner in that he wasn’t prepared to allow her total freedom for a few days.

But he had to keep an eye on her, didn’t he? For the Antonideses’ sake.

Who was he trying to kid?

Kizzy Dean was not going to run off and call the Antonideses at the first opportunity and he damn well knew it. He also knew that the legal contract he had been insisting on was completely unnecessary to ensure Kizzy’s side of the deal. It had been an excuse—an excuse to keep her within his reach until he could seduce her into his bed and work her delectable body right out of his overheated system.

“You want guarantees too, don’t you?” he demanded nonetheless. “Without some form of legal contract, there’d be nothing to stop me from breaking my side of the bargain and abandoning you here with nothing.”

“But you wouldn’t.”

He turned to face her. “What makes you so confident of that?”

Kizzy wasn’t quite sure what had made her say such a thing, but her mind was instantly drawn back to his office staff, to Dorinda and Stephanos. Their instinctive reactions to Andreas were something no amount of stick-wielding could enforce or money could buy. They were loyal, respectful, and affectionate even.

“I trust you.”

“You trust
me.” He shook his head skeptically. “I may have overestimated your intelligence. It’s not safe to trust anyone, Kizzy. Especially not men like me.”

Men as flawed and tarnished and warped as me. Men who would deceive and go against their own principles to get a woman like you into bed…

“But you’re young. You’ll learn. Sadly.”

“You’re absolutely right, Andreas. In fact, I imagine you’re rarely wrong about anything.”

“Never,” Andreas said.

He let her barbed remark pass without rebuke but that didn’t mean it hadn’t hit home. It had, and to his surprise, it hurt. Hurt more than it logically should.

Clearly he came across as arrogant and overbearing. And her cold reaction was no more than he deserved. But that little bit of fire she had just shown proved she had a tough inner core, a personality that could give free rein to her inferno of a libido.

“Getting back to practicalities,” he announced in a neutral tone. “Since you are so keen to spread your wings, I’ve decided we need to do some work on your career plans, so they can be properly built into the contract. I have a few possibilities in mind but I need to focus without external distraction. It’s just too busy here—too many demands. I need to attend personally to a number of other matters before an important UN meeting in Paris next week.”

“So we’re going away for a couple of days until the legal documents are ready. It’s the only sensible way forward at this point.” Slowly, his eyes followed a swallow’s black silhouette across the skyline. His voice was deliberately nonchalant. “Besides, you’re looking tired, so I’ve arranged a luxurious weekend on a private island. I’m hoping that should put the color back in your cheeks.”

Chapter Eight

The room Andreas had shown her to, her room was an exquisite, understated palette of ivory-painted floorboards, cream plasterwork, and the snowiest white linen she had ever seen. What she had encountered of his island retreat so far was breathtaking, but what exactly was she supposed to do in her own little piece of this heaven?

Their departure from Lindos had been rapid and ruthlessly efficient to the extent that her unwrapped boxes of new clothing had yet to be delivered. Andreas had insisted that they fly to the island by helicopter immediately before the light started to fade, having arranged for their luggage to follow on by sea, so she couldn’t even while away the time with unpacking.

Kizzy moved toward the French windows that stood open, invitingly, onto a balcony with a delicate black wrought-iron rail, and paused for a moment to run her hands across the rough stone that framed it. Its cold grayness contrasted beautifully with the thick, buttery cover surrounding it and the apricot blue of dusk outside.

Her eyes drifted to one of the imposing black picture frames that hung on either side of the door. Beneath the glass was a watermarked piece of fabric embroidered with a sweeping arc of simple flowers tied at the stem with a blue bow. Its bright ensemble of clashing colors and incorrect botanical structure was as delightfully naïve as the sepia photograph it surrounded was severe.

A stiff, unsmiling woman sat with hands primly folded in the lap of her black floor-length dress. Behind her was an equally stern, mustachioed man in a suit who was gripping a bewildered-looking child in a white dress on his knee.

“Those were the days.”

Kizzy jumped as Andreas’s words cut through the silence and turned to see him leaning nonchalantly against the doorjamb, his powerful shoulders almost filling the width of the frame.

“They all look terrified,” she said, and glanced back at the framed photograph. “Are they family?”

“No.” He eased himself upright and took a few steps into the room, bringing him uncomfortably within touching distance. “If you look closely there are a couple of lovebirds hiding in the flowers, not the sort of symbolism most of my dreadful ancestors would think to incorporate. They’re descendants of the original owners, I believe. There was a ton of old stuff lying around when I bought this place. Most of it had to go, but a few pieces, like that one, I’ve kept. Lends a certain ambience to the building, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Kizzy agreed, folding her arms across her chest and gripping tightly onto her elbows, a defense against the proximity of his body. She didn’t dare turn around and face him, he was just too close, and one more lungful of his fresh scent would be her ruin.

There had been no mention yet of the absurd “mistress” proposition from the night before—he had clearly given up quite quickly on that idea—so it was vital that she didn’t even think about how much she wanted to kiss him.

In a physical sense, at least, Andreas was everything she could ever have imagined her perfect man to be. Just the memory of his touch made shivers run like wild electricity up and down her spine until she could hardly think straight.

She only prayed he couldn’t hear the catch in her breath.

They were together in her bedroom.

Alone.

“Can I assume you have recovered from my handling of the helicopter?” Andreas asked.

He reached around her to close the French doors, brushing his forearm against her bare shoulder as he did so.

Kizzy felt her eyes flutter shut for a second in direct reaction to his touch. She was forced to moisten her dry lips with the tip of her tongue before she could reply. “I can’t pretend I enjoyed it all that much—very noisy.”

“I’m sorry about that. I was very keen to get here before dark, that’s all.”

“You’ll have to excuse my nervousness, Andreas. You’re used to all this, but for me it’s quite overwhelming.” Kizzy continued to stare out of the window, willing the pounding of her heart to ease up. “Yachts, jets, helicopters—I guess that just leaves me the hideously expensive sports car to get accustomed to, right? No, don’t tell me—Lamborghini? Ferrari?”

“Neither of those.”

She turned to face him but her playful smile faltered at the shadowy expression on his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I just assumed it was all part of the image.”

“The idle, reckless, playboy billionaire image, you mean?”

“I suppose so,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to be rude, but you obviously drive
something
, so I assumed it would match everything else about you.”

“Such as my ego and heartlessness?”

Kizzy looked away, embarrassed. He clearly hadn’t forgotten the vitriol she hurled at him before she discovered the truth about the little beggar boy in Rhodes.

“It was wrong of me to say that about you,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said smoothly. “It’s quite refreshing to have someone tell me what they think of me—even if it isn’t palatable. I appreciate your honesty, Kizzy.”

“Besides,” he continued, “I’ve given up driving. Lindos village is a World Heritage Site and vehicles aren’t permitted here so I couldn’t anyway. I prefer sailing down from Rhodes rather than taking the road. It’s also a lot easier to get chauffeured about when I’m overseas—not driving is better all around.”

He let out a low breath.

“But my last car
was
a Lamborghini. It was the most beautiful piece of machinery I have ever seen and the first expensive item I bought for myself once the serious money started coming in. But,” and his whole body seemed to twist in on itself in response, “it wasn’t such a pretty sight when it was written off.”

“Showing off with handbrake turns, were you?”

“No—my little sister crashed the bloody thing,” he replied starkly. “Callista was already dead when it caught fire. Or that’s what the inquest said.”

Kizzy felt a sensation similar to a gigantic boulder plunging to the bottom of her stomach and her mouth dropped open into a silent, painful apology. She took a hesitant step toward him, then stopped herself as she saw the raw emptiness in his face, the way his shoulders were hunched around his folded arms.

“I’m so very sorry,” she began. “It was a thoughtless thing for me to say—”

“That’s okay. No need to feel awkward about it, Kizzy.” Calmly, he unfolded his arms. “It’s not something I usually discuss, so we’ll let the subject drop. But you could always make it up to me if you wanted to.”

“Name it,” Kizzy replied quickly, then realized how dangerous such an open invitation could be to a man like Andreas Lazarides.

He leaned back against the wooden post of the bed behind him and tipped his head toward the ceiling for a moment as though deep in thought.

The seconds ticked agonizingly away. It was almost as if he were deliberately calculating the exact period of silence it would take to stretch Kizzy’s nerves to the limit.

“Kiss me,” he said finally.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me,” he replied coolly. “Kiss me like you did last night and I’ll forget every tactless word you just said.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” he responded, without a flicker of concern. “It would make us both feel a lot better—and I know you want to.”

“Because it wouldn’t stop there, would it?”

“There’s no reason why it should have to stop at a kiss, pethi mou,” he replied, and curled long fingers around the back of her head to remove her hair clip. He smiled as her black curls tumbled over her shoulders, as undisciplined as the rest of her body. His voice dropped to a seductive growl. “We’re alone and we want to, need to, enjoy each other’s company.”

Kizzy closed her eyes and struggled to wrench out a negative response. But her unspoken words were stolen by the burning touch of his lips against hers. Her mouth trembled as he withdrew a tiny bit to assess her reaction. The intimate warmth of his breath against her cheek made her abandon all reason and professional sense.

Tangling her fingers in the black silk of his hair, Kizzy pulled him tightly back toward her and drew him to her parted lips. As his tongue began gently to explore, she felt his hands slide around her waist and pull her hips firmly into the cradle of his own.

She felt the rigid heat of his arousal, and gave a little moan.

“This is destiny, Kizzy.” He held each cheek of her bottom in the palms of his hand and groaned with pleasure. Bending his head, he kissed her again. “I’ve wanted you since the very first moment I saw you, wanted you so much that I couldn’t think straight.”

Kizzy began to shake her head. “Andreas, I—”

“No, Kizzy,” he told her adamantly, and ran the flat palm of his hand across her breast, lingering over the swollen, heaving jut of her nipple through her top. He inhaled sharply, as though already testing the limits of his control over the situation. “No more denial, no more pretending. Your mouth can do much more exciting things when it’s not trying to deny you the most natural pleasure in the world.”

He stroked both nipples with the pads of his thumbs, anchoring the deep blue of her eyes with his own intense stare.

“Now, are you going to take all these clothes off or am I going to do it for you?”

Rendered speechless by the intoxication that was coursing through her body like a potent aphrodisiac, Kizzy was only able to place her shaking palms on the black cotton of his T-shirt.

His chest lay under her fingers. Stroking him, she relished the sudden tightening of his nipples under her inexperienced touch.

“You do it,” she said, with a voice so altered by sexual excitement that she wondered if she had actually uttered the words or just imagined them as part of the wicked, forbidden fantasy that this must be. Then reality caught up with her. She sucked in her breath as he undid the buttons of her blouse, his fingers swift and skillful. “But Andreas—before we get carried away, I need to tell you, I don’t—I haven’t—”

“Don’t worry, I have,” he muttered quickly as he slid the blouse off her shoulders. He paused briefly to cup both heavy, lace-covered breasts with reverent hands. “I will take care of you, pethi mou, trust me.”

He reached back to unfasten her bra. His voice was deep and throaty. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this, to get you alone, to touch your bare skin, just you…” Slowly, painstakingly, he slid the straps of her bra down the length of her slender arms. “And me. And
that
.”

Her gaze followed his to the bed and her skin tingled with the shock of sudden cool exposure as her bra fell to the floor. Any words she might have uttered vaporized at that point into tiny exquisite breaths of longing.

He inhaled at the sight of her naked breasts, the sinews in his neck taut as he held each one in his warm hands. His body trembled with undisguised arousal. “I could die for just one taste of these,” he whispered, tracing a path of feathery kisses along her collarbone, his fingertips brushing lightly over each nipple until it tightened into a peak.

Kizzy’s fingertips sank into the hard strength of his biceps, relishing the feel of his intense maleness. The desire building within her was overwhelming as she took his hand and crushed it hard against the soft swell of her breast.

“Then don’t stop, you don’t have to be so gentle. It’s okay, I…I want it.”

Expertly, he maneuvered her backward against the edge of the bed, and she arched her back in supple compliance, urging him to continue with his kisses. Clumsily, she tried to ease up the fabric of his T-shirt. He quickly shucked it off, barely breaking contact with her body, and she uttered a small moan as the dark, wiry dusting of hair on his chest brushed against her tender skin.

In a haze of physical sensation, Kizzy watched his upper body muscles ripple powerfully as he lifted her onto the mattress.

His fingers continued to coax her breasts to a peak of excitement. At last, she knew what it was like to feel truly desired by a man.

“Yes...”

She could barely comprehend the pleasure that she was experiencing.

His hot, ragged breath raked her tense body, and she sighed as he seized one taut nipple between his lips and ran the tip of his tongue around its velvet peak.

“You have the body of an angel,” he murmured against her skin, then sucked harder and more insistently, caressing her other breast as the urgency of their need began to take over rational thought.

She helped him ease off her pants, leaving her in the tiny, blue silk panties he had purchased in Rhodes. Needing no further persuasion, he slid his fingers under the lacy trim to languorously explore her soft, velvety curls.

A low noise in the depths of his throat reminded them both of the primitive nature of the act about to take place between them.

Kizzy lifted her hips to help him free her from that last scrap of material, then ran her fingertips tentatively along the waistband of his shorts. The bulge of his erection straining beneath the fabric was as intimidating as it was mesmerizing, and Kizzy bit down hard on her bottom lip as she dared to trail her fingertips over its pulsating heat.

She met the smoldering intention in his eyes.