At His Revenge: Sold to the Enemy / Bartering Her Innocence / Innocent of His Claim. Trish Morey
Читать онлайн книгу.
that’s harsh.’ Stefan leaned back and stretched out his legs. ‘Here I am, sword at the ready, eager to chop the head off a dragon to save the maiden, and all you can do is knock my confidence.’
She didn’t smile. ‘Is that really what’s going on here? Because it occurred to me that maybe you’re using the maiden to taunt the dragon.’
Stefan’s smile didn’t slip. ‘When we were dishing out roles in this company I picked cynic, not you.’
‘We’re all cynical here. It’s contagious. Does she know how much her father hates you? Does she know the story?’
No one knew the story. Not even Maria, whom he allowed more liberties than most. Oh, she thought she knew—thought it was all about business rivalry and two alpha males acting out their deeply competitive natures. She had no idea how far back it went, or how deep the scars. And why would she? They weren’t visible. He didn’t allow them to be visible.
‘It’s because of my relationship with her father that she chose me.’
Maria’s mouth flattened with disapproval.
‘Are you sure this isn’t a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire?’
‘You’re suggesting I’m worse than Antaxos? That is hardly a complimentary view of one’s boss.’
‘We’re not talking about work right now. My admiration for your intellect and business skills is boundless but when it comes to women you’re bad news. What are your plans for her, Stefan?’
‘When it comes to women I never make plans. You should know that by now. “Plan” implies a future and we both know I don’t think like that. I’ve agreed to help her with her business—which, by the way, looks remarkably interesting on paper, particularly when you consider the product. And I’m taking her to a party. I intend to provide more fun than she’s had in the rest of her life. She can make her own decisions about how she spends her time. She’s twenty-two and on a quest for independence.’ Stefan battled a disturbingly vivid image of her breasts revealed through a cloud of lace. ‘All grown up.’
‘She’s very inexperienced.’
‘Yes. I’m finding that unusually appealing.’
‘And does that appeal have anything to do with the fact you are the last man her father would want her to be with? Thinking of her with you will drive him demented.’
Stefan smiled. ‘I consider that an added bonus.’
‘I’m worried about her, Stefan.’
‘She came to me. She asked for my help. I’m giving it.’ It was obvious that there was something going on beneath the surface and it intrigued him. She was playing a game, but he wasn’t sure which game. ‘I don’t recall you ever being this protective of the women I date before.’
‘That’s because you normally date women who don’t need protecting from anything.’
‘So maybe it’s time for a change.’ Cutting off the conversation, he rose to his feet. ‘How long until she’s ready? No doubt she’s still pulling clothes on and off, trying to decide what to wear.’
‘She decided what to wear in less than five seconds and it took her barely more than that to try it on.’
Used to women who could waste the best part of a day selecting one outfit, he was impressed. ‘I like her more and more.’
‘She has a very high opinion of you.’
‘I know.’ He walked past her to the door and Maria made a frustrated sound.
‘Where is your conscience?’
Stefan picked up his jacket. ‘I don’t have a conscience.’
When he’d mentioned his villa she’d imagined somewhere small. She hadn’t for one moment expected this spacious, airy mansion with high ceilings and acres of glass. Here, in this testament to innovative architecture, there were no dark corners or contagious gloom, just dazzling light exploding across marble floors and picking out the warm Mediterranean colours that turned the deceptively simple interior into a luxurious sanctuary.
Outside, a vine-shaded terrace led to gardens that created a blur of extravagant colour as they tumbled down a gentle slope that led to a crescent beach. And even there the idyll didn’t end. Unlike Antaxos, there were no killer rocks or dark, fathomless depths that threatened to swallow a person and leave no trace. Just sand of the softest, creamiest yellow and tiny silver fish dancing in the clear shallow water. The whole scene was so tempting that she, who avoided water, just wanted to rip off her shoes and plunge into the safe, cool shallows.
‘So this is why people see the Greek Islands as a tourist destination.’ She spoke without thinking and her unguarded comment earned her a questioning look.
‘Was the reason for that choice in doubt?’
Staring out of huge windows across the garden to the turquoise sea, she felt something stir inside her. It was like living a life in black and white and suddenly seeing it in colour. ‘Antaxos isn’t anything like this. No soft sand, just nasty rocks—’ She just stopped herself mentioning the rumour that a woman who’d been madly in love with her father had once fallen from those rocks and drowned. ‘My father’s house—our house—is built of stone with small windows.’ She managed to say it without shuddering. ‘The design supposedly keeps the heat out.’ And it kept everything and everyone else out, too. The bleak, dark atmosphere inside the place had somehow permeated the stone so that even the building felt unfriendly. ‘It’s stuffy in the summer and dark and cheerless in the winter. I like the light here. You have a very happy home.’
‘Happy?’ He glanced up at the villa, a faint frown between his eyes. ‘You think a building has moods?’
‘Definitely. Don’t you?’
‘I think a building is a building.’
‘Oh, no, that isn’t true. A building can make a person feel different. Here, the sunshine makes you want to smile. And all this space—it feels like being free.’ She spread her arms. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a bird so I can fly.’ Fly away from the island that had held her trapped for so long.
But she’d finally escaped. She’d done it.
This was the start of her new life.
Excited, she did a twirl. Stefan shot out a hand and steadied her before she lost her balance. ‘Probably best if you don’t fly here. I’ve seen pictures of your home on Antaxos. You live in a building the size of a castle.’
Selene was conscious of the strength of his fingers on her arm. ‘It isn’t anything like this. My father doesn’t like spending money on material things.’
‘Is there anything that your father does like?’
Hurting people.
She stood, searching for an appropriate response to his question, her heart a ball of pain in her chest. ‘Winning,’ she said finally. ‘He likes winning.’
‘Yes.’ His hand dropped abruptly from her arm. ‘Yes, he does.’
And he’d know, of course, because he was her father’s biggest business rival. She sensed the anger in him and she also sensed something more. Something dark lurked behind those sexy eyes. ‘You really hate my father, don’t you?’
‘It’s true to say he’s not my favourite person in the world.’ The deceptively light banter and that attractive slanting smile didn’t fool her.
This man was every bit as tough as her father.
She felt a twinge of unease, but already he was strolling ahead of her. She tried to ignore the little voice in her head telling her this might not have been such a good idea after all.
It