Exotic Nights: The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse. Natalie Anderson
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smooth move, Angel realised that she’d been effectively shielded from view. She felt more than heard the deep rumble of response.
‘Give me two minutes here, Olympia.’
His tone was implacable. Clearly he was someone used to giving commands and having them met. He was Leonidas Parnassus.
Angel barely heard the older woman make some comment before she turned and clipped her way back into the party in her high heels, pulling the doors shut again. Shock was gathering force, and Angel started to react. She had to get out of here.
She knew that Leonidas Parnassus had turned back to face her, but she couldn’t look at him. A warm hand tipped her chin up and she felt sick. She couldn’t avoid his eyes unless she closed her own, and the thought of doing that made panic rise. He smiled a sexy smile.
‘Please forgive the interruption. I’ll have to go in a minute, but … where were we?’
Angel had to get out of here right now. She’d just been about to kiss Leonidas Parnassus, the very man who must be gloating over her family’s very public ruination. A sudden spurt of anger bloomed. They were in dire straits, and it was all because of his family and their lust for revenge. She thought of Delphi, who was so vulnerable now; she and her sister didn’t deserve to be paying for something that had happened decades before.
Angel pulled down his hand and forced frost into her voice. ‘Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at. I have to get back to work. if my boss saw me out here with you I’d be sacked on the spot, which is obviously something that hasn’t occurred to you.’
Leonidas Parnassus looked at her for a long moment before straightening to his full intimidating height and moving back a pace. Gone was the sexily teasing man of just moments before and in his place now stood the son and heir of a vast fortune. The man who was already a self-made millionaire. No wonder she’d had that feeling earlier that he was someone.
Arrogant confidence oozed from every pore, and Angel had to repress a shiver at the cold of his eyes—not tawny gold any more, but almost black, like flint.
‘Forgive me.’ His voice was frigid. ‘I would never have attempted to kiss you if I’d known you found the prospect so repugnant.’
His demeanour made a mockery of his words. He was completely unrepentant. At that moment he reached out and cupped her jaw again. Her heart hammered against her ribs, she felt herself flushing.
Any pretence of remorse was gone, or charm. ‘Who do you think you’re kidding, sweetheart? Don’t ever fool yourself like that again. I know the signs of desire, and you’re practically panting for me right now, just like you were by the pool.’
Angel ripped his hand down again, panic surging in earnest. If he had even an inkling of who she was … ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I am not. I want you to get out of my way, please, so I can get back to work.’
‘I will,’ he bit out. ‘But not before we’ve proved your words to be a lie.’
Before Angel could take a breath he’d cupped her face in both his hands, stepped right up to her body, and his mouth was crashing down onto her shocked open one with all the force of a huge wave. Her hands covered his in a hazy attempt to remove them, and she struggled against the onslaught, but it felt like going against the strongest current.
Her open mouth had provided an unwitting invitation to his, and his tongue stabbed deep and plundered, seeking hers, sucking it deep. To be kissed so intimately shook her to her core.
Her body had stiffened with the shock of his action, but a spreading, melting sensation was quickly taking over. The urge to fight was becoming more and more distant. All Angel could feel was the sinewy strength of those hands. They were so big that he was cradling her entire head, long fingers threading through her hair, massaging her scalp. And all the while his mouth and tongue were sucking her down into a deep spiral of the unknown.
When she stopped trying to pull his hands away she would never know. Nor would she be able to say when she moved her own hands and arms to wind their way up and over his shoulders.
She only knew that all reality had ceased to exist as they kissed and kissed with furious intensity. Their bodies were tight together and she pressed against the long, lean hardness of him. The thundering beating of their hearts was drowning out voices, concerns. She strained against him, on tiptoe to get even closer … could feel the unmistakable signs of his burgeoning arousal, and when she felt that her brain melted completely.
And then all of a sudden it was over, and he was stepping back from her. Angel made an awfully betraying move towards him, as if loath to let him go, her hands still outstretched from where they’d been wrapped like clinging vines around his shoulders. It was only then that she noticed her hands were held in his… . and the awful suspicion arose. Had he had to forcibly take them down? Mortification flooded Angel even as she tried to assess the situation, gather her scattered nerves. Her heart still hammered. She was mute. Dizzy.
Leonidas Parnassus just looked at her, his face flushed … with anger? Or satisfaction that he’d proved himself right? Angel’s mortification rose to a new level.
A discreet cough came from close by, and then a voice.
‘Sir? If you could join your father inside now … please?’
Leonidas just looked at Angel, nothing given away on his face. It held a steely imperviousness that she would never have guessed the teasing man she’d met earlier to possess.
‘I’ll be right in.’ Leonidas pitched his voice to reach the hovering staff member, but his eyes never left hers. He seemed to be utterly in control, apart from that betraying colour in his cheeks. She felt as if she was unravelling at the seams.
‘I—’ Angel began ineffectually.
He cut her off with an autocratic, ‘Wait for me here. I’m not done with you yet.’
And with that he turned on his heel, and Angel watched him stride powerfully back into the thronged room, raking a hand through his hair as he did so. His back was huge and broad in the black of his tuxedo.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened.
In shock she put a finger to her mouth, where her lips felt plump and bruised. Thoroughly kissed. In a fresh rush of embarrassment and disgust Angel could remember wantonly arching her body even closer to his … almost as if she’d wanted to climb into his skin. Not even in the most passionate moment of her relationship with Achilles had she felt that intensity of desire, every thought wiped clean from her mind. But then, she recalled bitterly, that had been part of the problem …
Angel felt raw and exposed, and painful memories were surging back, as if it wasn’t awful enough to deal with what had just happened.
She heard a hush descend on the crowd in the salon, and searched for some means of escape. Finally, growing desperate, she spotted where some steps led down from the patio to the lower levels, and presumably back around to the kitchen. Hurrying down, she knew that she could forget about her job. The incident with the wine would have sealed her fate anyway; her disappearance with the guest of honour would have merely ensured it.
If her boss hadn’t known the significance of who she was, he soon would, and she didn’t want to be around to witness that.
Down in the kitchen she grabbed her things, and then crept out and headed down the drive, away from the glittering villa, not looking back once.
Leo stood and listened to his father’s unashamedly emotional speech, Georgios Parnassus made no secret of the fact that he was ready to hand over the reins of power to Leo. The prospect of a shift in power had been evident in the room instantaneously. Again, Leo felt that welling of some ancient pride, that sense of right to be here. While he wasn’t going to give the old man the satisfaction of capitulating so easily, he couldn’t deny the sense of needing to stake his own claim to his birthright, the birthright that had been stolen from him.
His old