Exotic Nights: The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse. Natalie Anderson
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the will down on the table and reached out, taking her arm in a punishing grip. Angel bit back a cry at his touch, more of shock than pain.
He unceremoniously hauled her from behind the desk and led her over to a chair in the corner. He all but thrust her into it.
‘I should have guessed after your last stunt that you obviously don’t have any qualms about trespassing where you’re not welcome.’
He didn’t answer her redundant question. Patently he now knew exactly who she was, and she realised that someone at the party must have told him after they’d seen him take her outside.
She knew it was probably futile, but she said it anyway. ‘If I’d known for a second where I would be working that night I wouldn’t have been here, I found out when it was too late.’
He all but sneered, towering over her now, arms crossed again over his broad chest. ‘Please, give me some credit. You might be able to distract other people with that seductively innocent face, but after what I’ve just seen I know that you’re rotten to your core. Your whole family are.’
Angel went to stand up on a fierce wave of anger. It was not fair to assume that she was like her ancestors, or her father, but before she could get a word out Leo had easily pushed her back down, not even using much force. Angel felt as weak as a rag doll, shaky all over. Once again the reality of his touch was more shocking than his action.
She clenched her fists and welcomed the rush of energy that anger brought. ‘You have it all wrong. I’m not here to steal anything. If you must know—’
Leo slashed a hand through the air, silencing her. Angel stopped abruptly. As much as she held no love for her father, she realised in that moment the futility of landing the blame at his door. Leo Parnassus would just laugh in her face. She’d quite literally been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, and could blame no one but herself.
She watched as he paced back and forth, his hands on his hips. The fingers were long and lean, and a sprinkling of dark hair dusted the backs of his hands. Suddenly an image of him hauling himself out of the pool that evening in one sleek movement caused heat to explode low in her pelvis.
In a moment of blind panic, feeling intensely vulnerable, Angel sprang up again and stood behind the high-backed chair. As if that could offer protection! Leo stopped and turned around to face her, surveying her coolly.
Angel asked huskily, ‘What … what are you going to do? Are you going to call the police?’
He ignored her question and walked over to a sideboard, where he poured himself a measure of whisky. He downed the drink in one swallow, the strong bronzed column of his throat working, making Angel feel even more weak and trembly.
Leo’s eyes snared hers again, and she saw something flame in the dark depths, revealing golden lights.
‘Did your father send you here that night? Was it a recce for tonight? Or is this your own ingenuity?’
Angel’s hands clenched on the back of the chair; she could feel her ponytail coming loose. ‘I told you. The night of the party I had no idea where we were going. I worked for that catering company, they didn’t tell us until we were on the way for security reasons.’
He all but laughed out loud. ‘And once you and your father knew that Georgios was away, you took advantage of the opportunity. The only thing you didn’t factor in was my return.’
‘Th … there was nothing in the press.’
Leo glowered, and Angel quailed even more. Now she’d made it sound even worse. No way could she reveal that she’d been helplessly drawn to scanning the papers every day to read about his movements.
‘I came a week early, hoping to surprise a few people. We’re very aware—’ his mouth tightened ‘—more so now we’re in transition of power, that people will believe we’re an easy target to take over.’
Angel had a nauseating realisation. ‘You saw me arrive. The security guard checked with you …’
Leo indicated to Angel’s right-hand side, and she looked over to see an ante-room off the study, the door through which he had appeared. In it, she could clearly make out a glowing wall of cameras, showing flickering black and white images. CCTV cameras. One of which looked directly over the main gate. He’d watched nearly every step of her progress. She felt sick when she thought of how she’d crept through the house. Her naivety mocked her. Of course she’d never have got near this place if he hadn’t been here. She looked back.
Leo’s face was so harsh that Angel felt a jolt of pure fear go through her. This man was a million miles from the seductive stranger she’d met that night.
‘Your audacity is truly astonishing. Clearly you have the confidence born of your position in society, even if you don’t hold that position any longer.’
Angel could have laughed if she’d had the wherewithal. Tito might have been wealthy once, but he was a despot and had controlled all their lives with a tight fist. It hadn’t been audacity that had led her to that gate; it had been sheer fear and a desire to right a wrong.
‘I wasn’t coming to steal anything, I swear.’
Leo gestured back to the will sitting on the table and completely ignored her statement. ‘What were you hoping to glean from it?’ He laughed harshly. ‘That’s a stupid question. No doubt your father was hoping to use inside information on my father’s estate to undermine him in some way. Or were you going to use the information to do a bit of honey-trapping, maybe? You’d have enough information to try and winkle out some more? Take advantage of the kiss we shared that night?’
Angel flushed hotly when she thought of that kiss, and then remembered her father’s gloating talk last night. That was exactly how her father would think. Too late, she saw the hard, unforgiving look come into Leo’s eyes, his jaw tense. Clearly he was misinterpreting her misplaced guilt.
Once again she knew that it would be futile to tell the truth. Leo Parnassus would be more likely to believe in Santa Claus than in her innocence, especially when the circumstantial evidence was so damning. All she knew was that she needed to get out of there. She was feeling increasingly hot and bothered under his intense and concentrated regard.
Tentatively she came from around the chair. She reassured herself that he was an urbane man of the world. An American. She had to be able to appeal to some rational part of him.
‘Look. You have the will. I’m sorry for trespassing where I’m not welcome. I promise if you let me go that you’ll never see or hear from me again.’ Angel ignored the way her heart gave a funny little clench when she said that. She couldn’t even begin to contemplate her father’s reaction to what she’d done, and of course she couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t do something stupid again, but she kept her mouth shut.
Leo put down the glass silently on the table. Angel followed the movement warily. A strange charge came into the air between them and she found her eyes being helplessly drawn back to his. They were glowing with gold in their depths again, reminding her of how he’d looked at her just before he’d kissed her that night on the terrace. His eyes dropped then, insolently sweeping down her body, taking in her worn jeans, black top and jacket. Sneakers. And suddenly it was as if she was breaking out into little fires all over her skin.
Her heart started thumping. In a blind panic, to negate her reaction, she moved again, telling herself that he wouldn’t stop her if she just walked out. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d actually broken into the villa.
But just as she was about to pass him she felt her arm being gripped, and she was swung around so fast that she lost her balance and fell against him. All the breath seemed to leave her body.
In an instant he’d loosened her already unravelling hair, and it fell around her shoulders. His hand held her head, tilting her face up to him. His other arm was like a steel band around her back. Angel was afraid to move or breathe, because that would invite a contact that would scatter what remained of any coherent