Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction: Demetriou Demands His Child / Olivero's Outrageous Proposal / Rafael's Contract Bride. Кейт Хьюит
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her hurtling back to that wonderful, terrible night, when she’d known both pleasure and pain so acutely.
And now Alekos Demetriou owned her father’s company? Her company? Except of course it wasn’t hers at all.
‘What does this mean exactly?’
‘I don’t know,’ the older man admitted. ‘Demetriou only just revealed that he has a controlling interest. I requested a meeting with him to discuss the future of the company.’
Iolanthe’s stomach soured. ‘So the future of Petra Innovation is up to Alekos Demetriou?’
‘In a word, yes.’
Abruptly she rose from her seat and paced the room, stopping in front of the window that overlooked Athens’ business district. She barely saw the wide boulevard, the neat buildings, busy people going to and fro. In her mind’s eye she saw Alekos as she’d last seen him, in his own drawing room, his face cold and closed and forbidding, as he’d demanded she leave.
And so she had.
‘Kyria Callos, I realise this news comes as a shock.’
‘You have no idea,’ Iolanthe admitted with a harsh laugh. What would Alekos do with the company? With her son’s—his son’s—inheritance? ‘Do you think it likely that he will simply allow things to continue as they are?’ Even as she spoke the question she knew it was a ridiculous hope. A naïve one, and she’d put naïvety behind her long ago. She’d had to. She knew how bent on revenge Alekos had been back then. A decade didn’t seem to have changed things. He still wanted to get back at her father, her family, or maybe even her. Why else would he have bought controlling shares?
‘I really don’t know what Demetriou will do,’ Metexas answered. ‘I don’t know why he has essentially initiated a takeover of Petra Innovation. But the fact that he was secretive about it concerns me, of course.’
Iolanthe nodded numbly, her unseeing gaze still on the city street.
Metaxas cleared his throat. ‘Do you have any history with Demetriou?’ he asked.
‘Me?’ Iolanthe turned around, her expression once more composed, closed. ‘What are you asking? I married Lukas when I was twenty.’
‘Of course, of course, forgive me. I only meant, perhaps, between the families...’ Metaxas trailed off as Iolanthe regarded him coolly, giving nothing away. She hoped.
‘Demetriou was in a race with my father a long time ago,’ she said. ‘Something about a software system. My father beat him to the invention—I think Demetriou was angry about it.’ So angry that he’d seduced his daughter, all for a petty, pointless revenge.
‘So you think he has bought the company as some sort of payback?’
‘It seems like him.’
‘You know him, then.’
‘I know his deeds,’ Iolanthe corrected crisply. ‘And what my father told me. He is not an admirable man in any shape or form.’ That she knew all too well.
Metaxas sighed heavily. ‘This doesn’t bode well for Petra Innovation. But I expect Demetriou will inform us of his plans when I meet him tomorrow.’
Iolanthe tensed, shock like an icy flame rippling through her body. ‘He agreed to a meeting?’
‘Yes—’
‘With you,’ Iolanthe said, repeating his words. Metaxas, like her husband and father before him, intended to cut her out of any business decisions. Before Lukas’s death she’d made herself be content to stay at home, out of the way. But not any longer. Not when her son’s inheritance was at stake. ‘I want to be present at that meeting.’
Metaxas looked startled. ‘If that is your wish,’ he said after a pause. ‘But as you know it had always been your husband’s desire for you not to be bothered by business concerns—’
‘And look where that got us,’ Iolanthe finished. The thought of coming face-to-face with Alekos Demetriou again filled her with both terror and dread, but she would still do it. She wanted to know exactly what Alekos intended for her father’s company—and for her son.
* * *
‘Kyrie Metaxas and Kyria Callos will see you now.’
Alekos’s mouth twisted in wry bitterness as he strode into the CEO’s office at Petra Innovation. He might have been kept waiting like a supplicant, but he was one no longer, neither lackey nor slave. Petra Innovation, to all intents and purposes, belonged to him. And he found he was looking forward to informing Iolanthe Callos of that fact.
The receptionist opened the doors and he stalked through them, stopping abruptly at the sight of Iolanthe standing by the window, the sunlight gilding her dark hair. Looking upon her after so many years felt like a punch to the solar plexus, and he found, to his surprise and irritation, that he was suddenly breathless. Memories assaulted him, a kaleidoscope of images and sensations that he’d long ago determined to forget. A white silk mask, the petal-pink curve of a smooth cheek. The touch of her lips, the breathy sigh of her pleasure.
Resolutely he moved his gaze from the woman by the window to the other occupant of the room: her solicitor, Antonis Metaxas. Alekos gave one brief nod.
‘Kyrie Metaxas.’
‘Kyrie Demetriou.’
The silence stretched between the three of them, taut and brittle. Alekos glanced at Iolanthe again, determined not to react to her as he had before. At that first burning glance he’d thought she looked the same, but now he saw that she was older, just as he was. He glimpsed faint lines by her eyes, and, although she looked pale, he saw a composure to her that had not been there before. She was thirty years old and recently a widow. He noticed she wore a pale grey suit, a suitable colour for mourning. The jacket was belted around her slender waist and the pencil skirt emphasised her lithe figure. Her hair was caught up in a neat chignon and it made him remember how those inky locks had felt tumbling through his hands as he’d drawn her towards him for a deep kiss...
‘Kyria Callos. May I offer my condolences on the recent loss of your husband?’ He would observe the niceties.
Iolanthe inclined her head in regal acceptance of his words. She didn’t speak. Her face looked as if it had been made of marble, as blank as a statue, no expression visible in those mist-silver eyes.
‘I have informed Kyria Callos of your controlling interest in the company,’ Metaxas said. ‘She would like to know what your intentions are regarding Petra Innovation.’
Alekos’s gaze snapped to Metaxas. ‘And can Kyria Callos speak for herself?’ he asked with deliberate mildness. He moved his gaze back to Iolanthe, surprised and strangely gratified to see a flash of ire in her eye; the statue was gone.
‘Yes, Kyria Callos can,’ she informed him shortly. The sound of her voice was another surprise; gone was the girlish lilt, replaced by the crisp tones of a grown-up woman in control of her life, if not her business.
‘Very well.’ Alekos gave her a nod, just as she had given him. ‘What is it you wish to know?’
‘I wish to know why you have bought controlling shares in my father and husband’s company,’ she said, and he heard the dislike in her voice, mixed with contempt. The realisation that she scorned him made his resolve for revenge harden inside him, a core of steel that had been the basis of every choice and desire for his entire adult life. ‘And were so secretive about it,’ she added, tossing the words like an insult.
‘If you had cared to dig a little deeper, you would have found that I was not as secretive about my purchases as you seem to think. It was simply that your husband did not care to look closely into the matter.’
A small gasp escaped her before she pressed her lips together. ‘How dare you?’
‘How dare I?’ Alekos arched an eyebrow, coldly incredulous. Her fake posturing of