Greek Affairs: In His Bed: Sleeping with a Stranger / Blackmailed into the Greek Tycoon's Bed / Bedded by the Greek Billionaire. Carol Marinelli
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was about to say she didn’t want another drink, but Milos had already whipped the glass out of her hand and handed it to the other man. Alex looked a little doubtful, but he was too polite to argue with a guest.
‘Kanena provlima,’ he said, good-naturedly, and with a brief word to excuse himself he walked away.
‘He said, no problem,’ Milos offered artlessly, as soon as they were alone, and Helen gave him an accusing look.
‘I didn’t want another drink,’ she said tersely. ‘Please don’t presume to make my decisions for me.’
‘Did I do that?’ Milos lifted his glass to his lips before continuing and she was unwillingly treated to the sight of the muscles moving sinuously in his throat. ‘I thought it might help you to relax,’ he went on, lowering his glass again. ‘You’re strung as tight as a mandolin.’
‘And whose fault is that?’
Milos’s dark brows ascended. ‘I assume you’re making me the culprit.’
‘Who else?’
‘Why?’ His eyes rested briefly on her mouth and she felt the heat of that sensuous appraisal liquefying her insides. ‘I admit, I’m flattered, but as we know one another so well—’
‘We don’t know one another so well,’ she retorted hotly. ‘We—we hardly know one another at all.’
‘Oh, I think we do.’ Milos held her gaze now, and she was helplessly aware of how easily he could turn the tables on her. There was a pregnant silence and then he said, ‘Your daughter likes me.’
Helen felt suddenly chilled in spite of the warm evening. ‘And that’s supposed to be a recommendation?’ she demanded at last, albeit a little faintly. ‘Melissa befriends the most unsuitable people.’
‘Yes, so she was telling me.’
Helen’s jaw dropped. ‘She told you?’
‘Mmm.’ He was infuriatingly casual. ‘We had quite a conversation on the way back from Vassilios.’
Helen had known that, of course. Had seen the conspiratorial smile that had passed between them before her daughter had got out of his car. She’d tried to put it to the back of her mind, had convinced herself it meant nothing. Melissa hadn’t mentioned it and Helen had been too proud to question her.
But now she gazed at Milos with worried eyes. What had Melissa told him to put that look of smug complacency on his face? Not the truth, obviously. But something he considered powerful enough to taunt her in this way.
‘How long has she been dodging school?’ he asked abruptly, and Helen gulped.
‘How do you—?’ Helen broke off and rephrased the question. ‘Did Melissa tell you that?’
‘She didn’t have to,’ said Milos flatly. ‘It goes with the territory. She hangs about with losers. What else can she do?’
Helen wet her dry lips. ‘They’re not all losers,’ she began, and then halted again when Milos gave her a knowing look. ‘Well, all right. We have had some trouble with—with truancy,’ she admitted. ‘But all teen—all children,’ she corrected herself hurriedly, ‘go through a rebellious period.’
‘And that’s all you think it is? A rebellious period.’
‘What else could it be?’ Helen was defensive.
‘It could be the start of a lifetime of underachieving,’ said Milos brutally. ‘What the hell kind of example did your late husband set for her? The girl doesn’t even think education is worth the effort.’
Helen bent her head. ‘I didn’t ask for your opinion.’
‘You did, actually.’ He was relentless. ‘In any case, you’re getting it for free.’
‘You mean, you can’t resist interfering in my life.’ Helen glanced uneasily about her. ‘Where’s Alex? I hope he didn’t take your intrusion as a reason to stay away.’
Milos shrugged. ‘He’ll be back.’
‘And until then, you’re going to annoy me.’ Helen gave a sigh. ‘Isn’t there some other woman desperate for your attention? Why pick on me?’
Milos gave a short, mirthless laugh. ‘Perhaps you’re good for my ego.’
Helen shook her head. ‘What do you really want, Milos? I can’t believe you’re enjoying this any more than I am.’
‘You’re wrong.’ Milos leant towards her, his wine-scented breath enveloping her, causing a film of heat to spread unchecked all across her body. ‘We need to talk, Helen. Don’t you agree?’
Helen’s legs felt like jelly. ‘We’re talking now.’
‘Not like this.’ Milos’s eyes bored into hers. ‘We have things to say to one another that are best said in private.’
‘Wh—what things?’
Milos’s hand came up to stroke the exposed skin of her shoulder. ‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ he murmured softly. ‘Like why you tremble when I touch you.’ His fingers trailed down her arm, pausing to caress the curve of her breast. ‘Or why you’re not yelling your head off because I’m taking liberties no decent woman would permit.’
‘Or no decent man would perpetrate,’ she got out tremulously. ‘Leave me alone, Milos. Please!’
‘I can’t do that,’ he said huskily, and she felt the brush of his mouth against her temple.
She was sure he was going to kiss her mouth and she was ashamed to admit that she tilted her head back almost compulsively. But then, abruptly, he stepped away from her, and as her brain clicked back into gear she saw Melissa and his sister standing at the other side of the terrace, watching them.
So, no belated twinge of conscience, she thought bitterly. With her history, she should have known better.
It was perhaps predictable that Alex should choose that moment to return with her drink. ‘There you are,’ he said, handing the refilled glass to her, and, uncaring what she’d told Milos, Helen gulped at it greedily.
‘Thanks,’ she said, when she lowered the glass, aware that both men were regarding her with differing expressions. ‘I needed that.’ And let Milos make what he liked of it!
In the event, her defiance was wasted. As if suddenly losing interest in her, Milos paused only long enough to say ‘Signomi,’ which she knew meant ‘Excuse me,’ before leaving them. He strode away towards the buffet tables where Maya was more than happy to welcome him.
‘Milos seems annoyed,’ said Alex, watching the other man with thoughtful eyes. ‘Has he said anything to upset you?’
‘To upset me?’ Helen’s voice rose on the automatic denial. She struggled to steady herself. ‘Um—no. We—er—we were just talking about old times, that’s all.’
She realised too late that that had probably not been the most sensible thing to say when Alex frowned. ‘I didn’t know you and Milos were old friends,’ he remarked quietly. ‘How did you meet?’
‘Oh—it was years ago,’ said Helen hastily. ‘Milos was on holiday in England and my father asked him to—to look me up.’
‘Really?’ Alex was obviously intrigued. ‘You know, I’ve never known Milos go to England except on business.’
That’d be right, thought Helen cynically. She’d been just another piece of business. A piece of something, anyway, and she’d been the one to pay the price.
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS still early when Milos stepped out onto the balcony of his bedroom at Vassilios.
Although