Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction: Demetriou Demands His Child / Olivero's Outrageous Proposal / Rafael's Contract Bride. Кейт Хьюит
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on his shoulder. Alekos felt a corresponding surge of protectiveness that he barely understood. Yes, she was young and impressionable and naïve, but she was also a stranger. Why did he care? Why did it alarm him to think of her fragile dreams being shattered by the harsh realities of life? Just as his had once been, a cruel blow had left him reeling for years.
‘Important?’ he prompted, an edge entering his voice. Dancing with this wisp of a girl, hearing her whisper her dreams, was presenting him with far more of both an emotional and physical challenge than he’d ever anticipated. He wanted her in ways he couldn’t even begin to contemplate. He wanted to make her laugh again, and he wanted to kiss that soft pink mouth.
‘I suppose everyone wants to feel important,’ Iolanthe answered with a dismissive shrug of her slim shoulders. ‘And it’s not that I want to be important myself... I couldn’t care less about that. But I want to do something that makes a difference to somebody, even if it’s just something small. I want to live, not just watch other people do it, my nose pressed up against the glass.’ She laughed, and this time the sound was tinged with bitter resignation. ‘But what does it matter? I’m only likely to end up married.’
The simply stated truth, one he’d already arrived at himself, now had him tensing in instinctive resistance. ‘Why do you say that?’
She tilted her head to look up at him, the sparkle leaving her eyes, her mouth flattening. ‘I’m twenty years old and my father intends to choose my husband. The only reason I’m at this ball is to show myself off to suitable men.’ She practically spat the words out, her hand clenching on his shoulder.
‘Does he have one in mind?’ Alekos asked, hating the thought.
‘Maybe.’ Her expression tightened and she glanced away. ‘But I want to have some say in the matter.’
‘As you should.’
‘I don’t know if my father agrees.’ She sighed, the sound too weary for a young woman whose life should stretch ahead of her with nothing but promise and possibility. ‘But let’s not talk about that. I can’t bear to think about it, not when tonight is the only time I might be able to have fun and enjoy myself with the most handsome man at the ball.’ Her smile turned deliberately coquettish, and he saw the humour in her eyes, the acknowledgement that she was flirting shamelessly. It made him smile.
‘Indeed,’ he murmured, and whirled her about the dance floor.
‘I must sound ridiculous,’ Iolanthe said with another little laugh, her head tilted back so she could look up at him. ‘Wittering on about being important and changing things.’
‘You don’t sound ridiculous.’ Hadn’t he once been the same, burning with ambition, flying high on hope? Then he’d come crashing to the ground, and now the only thing he burned for was revenge. ‘I think everyone wishes to make a difference in life,’ he told her.
‘And you?’ She glanced up at him, her expression all open curiosity. ‘How would you like to make a difference?’
Alekos hesitated, wondering how much to reveal. ‘I want to see justice done,’ he said finally, for that was certainly true. He wanted Talos Petrakis to pay for his crimes.
Iolanthe gave him a small smile. ‘That certainly seems a worthy goal. Far more than I’ll ever achieve, I’m sure.’
‘Who knows what you might do?’ Alekos returned. ‘You are young, with your whole life in front of you. You don’t have to marry if you don’t want to.’
She pursed her lips, considering his statement with perhaps too much seriousness. Who was he to encourage this naïve socialite to rebel? ‘What would I do if I didn’t marry?’
‘You could get a job. Go to university, even. What subjects did you like at school?’
‘I was tutored at home, but I always enjoyed art.’ She laughed. ‘Not that I possess enough talent to become a proper artist.’
‘You never know.’
‘You seem very optimistic.’
He laughed, the sound harsh. That was one adjective that would never be attributed to him. ‘I just don’t like to see a young woman such as yourself closing down all her possibilities.’
She smiled wryly. ‘I’m sure I seem very young and naïve compared to most of the women here.’ She nodded towards the crowd of sophisticated guests.
‘Most of the women here are jaded,’ Alekos said. ‘You are a breath of fresh air.’ Although he’d intended the words as mere flattery, he realised they held truth. Iolanthe’s inability to dissemble, the very innocence that had put him off, now intrigued and intoxicated him. He was disillusioned himself; he no longer trusted or cared for anyone. What would it be like to feel as Iolanthe yearned to, as if the world held nothing but possibility and hope? Once he’d felt it, as a child, but it seemed so long ago now he could barely remember the emotion, the happiness. He realised he didn’t want Iolanthe to lose her optimism, no matter what the future held for her. He didn’t want the flame he saw burning inside her to be extinguished so quickly on the altar of familial duty.
The music ended and yet Alekos was loath to walk away from Iolanthe as he’d intended to do earlier. And so, against all better judgment, he found himself asking instead, ‘Would you care to get some air on the terrace?’
‘A real breath of fresh air?’ Iolanthe teased, her eyes sparkling. Alekos conceded her point with a rueful nod, holding his breath as he waited for her acquiescence.
Iolanthe’s gaze skirted the ballroom before returning to rest on him. She squared her slender shoulders as if making a decision. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I would like that very much.’
* * *
Magic. Everything about this encounter with Alekos Demetriou felt magical, surreal, as if Iolanthe would wake up at any moment and find herself back in her bedroom, the evening yet to begin.
She’d enjoyed their conversation, had found her insecurities falling away as Alekos had looked at her with such blatant male admiration, but, more importantly, had listened to what she’d said—and had seemed to understand. His words thrilled her, because they made her wonder and even hope that there might be more to her life than what her father demanded and everyone expected—marriage to a man of his choosing, most likely Lukas Callos.
But she wouldn’t think of that now. Alekos took her hand as he led her towards a set of French windows that had been left open to the evening air, and the slide of his palm across hers made her insides quake like jelly. Was it normal to react to a handsome man like this? She certainly hadn’t reacted to Lukas this way. And she barely knew Alekos. In truth she didn’t know him at all. Yet his smile made her sway, and the touch of his hand set her heart to hammering, giving her a new, buoyant sense of hope. How was it possible?
Alekos pulled aside the window’s gauzy curtain as Iolanthe stepped through onto the terrace. She rested one hand on the stone balustrade, breathing in the warm, dusty air as the sounds of the night settled around her—a distant beeping of a car’s horn, the strains of music from the ballroom. A woman’s laughter, low and throaty, and a man’s answering murmur.
The nape of her neck prickled as Alekos joined her, his shoulder nudging hers as they both looked out at the night. The Acropolis, lit up against a dark sky, was a stunning backdrop to the narrow streets and terraced buildings of the Plaka.
‘So I don’t actually know anything about you,’ Iolanthe said with a little laugh. ‘Besides your desire for justice.’
Alekos slid her a sideways glance. ‘What would you like to know?’
Everything. Anything. They’d shared only one dance, and yet this man captivated and enchanted her. ‘You live in Athens?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you do? For work, I mean?’
‘I run my own business, Demetriou Tech.’