Mediterranean Nights: The Mistress Purchase / The Demetrios Virgin / Marco's Convenient Wife. PENNY JORDAN
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away from the courtyard and headed for the stairs that led up to the house’s living quarters and Raoul’s ‘office’.
Hélène, who protected her employer as devotedly as any guard dog, preceded Sadie up the stairs, giving her a final suspicious look before pushing open the door.
Ready for the battle she knew was about to commence, Sadie took a deep breath and stepped firmly into the room, beginning calmly, ‘Raoul, I am not—’
Abruptly she stopped in mid-sentence, her eyes widening, betraying her, as shock coursed through her, scattering her carefully assembled thoughts like a small whirlwind.
There, right in front of her, standing framed in the window of Raoul’s office, was… was…
CHAPTER TWO
SADIE gulped and struggled to regain her equilibrium and self-control, but those perma frost eyes were trapping her in an invisible web of subtle power.
His gaze made her feel dizzy, disorientated, helplessly enmeshed in sensations and emotions that terrified her into fierce, self-protective and angry hostility. And yet at the same time beneath all those feelings lay another, stronger, and darker one too. A rush of instinctive awareness of her vulnerability towards him as a man who, at the deepest most intense level of herself, she was responsive to.
She could feel her body quickening like mercury just because he was there, her every single sense reacting not just to the sight of him but to everything else as well, including his scent, male, potent and dangerous, prickling her sensitive nose, making her want to both breathe in the essence of him and yet at the same time close herself off from it and from him. Instinctively Sadie tensed against what she was experiencing, her eyes liquid gold with the intensity of her feelings.
She gave a small inward shudder.
‘I warned you, didn’t I, Leon, that my cousin doesn’t exactly present a businesslike image?’ Sadie could hear Raoul saying.
Leon? Leoneadis Stapinopolous? The Greek Destroyer? Silver spears of hostility and wariness glinted in the gold of Sadie’s gaze as she stared at him.
‘Miss Roberts.’ A brief inclination of his head, an Olympian acknowledgement of her presence which matched the unimpressed Australian scorch of his voice.
‘Okay, Sadie, now that you’re here let’s get down to business. Leon doesn’t have much time,’ Raoul breezed on.
So he had no time and too much money. It was a dangerously volatile combination—much like the man himself, Sadie reflected inwardly. He hadn’t, she noticed, made any attempt to shake hands with her, for which she was mightily thankful, as the last thing she wanted or needed right now was any kind of physical contact with him.
He had made no indication of having recognised her from the trade fair. Perhaps he had not done so. Maybe, unlike her, he had not suffered that feral surge of instant recognition. Maybe? There was no maybe about it! He was a man who was armoured against any kind of emotional vulnerability!
As Raoul started to talk expansively about the benefits which would accrue to them all on Leon’s acquisition of Francine Sadie had to force herself to focus on what he was saying. Deliberately she started to turn away from Leon to face her cousin, hoping that by doing so she could lessen the almost mesmerising effect Leon’s presence was having on her.
She spun round on her heel and a flurry of dust motes danced around her. Out of the corner of her eye she just caught the swift movement Leon made as he stepped towards her, his fingers curling round her upper arm, shackling her. She could feel the pulse throbbing at the base of her throat, driven by the acute intensity of the sensations bombarding her—the cool, steely grip of his hand on her arm, the sleek suppleness of his fingers, hard and strong, the dry, controlled warmth of his flesh, the steadiness of the surge of his blood in his veins as her own pounding heartbeat went wild.
Instinctively Sadie’s head snapped round. Her eyes were on a level with his throat. A drenching surge of hot female awareness roared over her, swamping her. She wasn’t used to feeling like this, reacting like this, wanting like this, she acknowledged shakily.
Wanting… How could she want him? He was a stranger, her enemy, representative of everything she disliked and despised.
He was leaning towards her, his cold gaze releasing her as his eyelids came down, shuttering his eyes away from her as his head slanted towards her throat.
It was impossible for her to stop the fierce tremor that raced through her as she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin
‘Well, at least the scent you are wearing today is a great improvement on whatever it was you were touting at the trade fair.’
His hold on her upper arm slackened the imprisoning bracelet of hard male flesh, his hand sliding smoothly down to her wrist and then holding it whilst the soft pad of his thumb pressed deliberately against her frantically jumping pulse. The shuttered lids lifted. Shockingly, the ice had melted and turned into a shimmering blinding heat that sent her heartbeat into overdrive.
‘What is it?’
What was it? Didn’t he know? Couldn’t he tell?
‘It’s obviously a very highly marketable scent, and…’
Scent; he was talking about her perfume! Her perfume, Sadie reminded herself savagely as she pulled herself free and stepped back from him.
‘Pity you didn’t choose to wear it at the trade fair. What you did wear—’
‘Was Raoul’s father’s creation and had nothing to do with me,’ Sadie snapped sharply, quickly defending her own professional status. ‘I didn’t even want to wear it!’
‘I should hope not,’ Leon agreed suavely. ‘Not with your reputation.’ He gave her a silkily intimidating look. ‘One of the reasons we are prepared to pay so generously for Francine is, as I am sure you must know, so that we can secure the combination of its old recipes and your perfumery skills. We want to bring to the market a new perfume under the Francine name which…’
The briskness of his manner snapped Sadie back to reality. This man was her enemy—bent on destroying everything she held dear professionally—and she had better keep that thought right to the forefront of her mind! Accusingly she looked at Raoul.
‘Raoul, I think—’ she began.
Raoul stopped her, smiling fawningly at the other man. ‘Leon, Sadie is as excited about your plans for Francine as I am myself—’
‘No, I am not,’ Sadie interrupted him sharply. ‘You know my views on this subject, Raoul,’ she reminded her cousin. ‘And you assured me that we would have time to talk in private today, before we met with… with anyone else!’
What was the matter with her? Why was she finding it so hard to so much as say his name without betraying the effect he was having on her?
‘Raoul may know your opinions,’ Leon cut in smoothly, ‘but since I do not, perhaps you would be good enough to run them past me.’
‘Sadie—’ Raoul began warningly, but Sadie had no intention of listening to him, and refused to be intimidated by the challenge she could see gleaming dangerously in Leon’s eyes.
Leon was no longer the man whose presence had swamped her female defences, the man who had somehow reached out to her and touched her senses and her emotions at their most primeval level. Instead he was the man who was threatening everything that mattered most to her. And there was no way that Sadie would break the mental promise she had made to her grandmother that she would cherish and protect the inheritance she had passed on to her in every way that she could.
Turning to confront Leon, Sadie began as calmly as she could. ‘I may only be a minority shareholder in the business, but I do own one-third of the shares.’
‘And I own two-thirds, ‘Raoul reminded her angrily. ‘If I want to sell the business to Leon, then as the majority