Modern Romance July 2015 Books 1-4. Maisey Yates
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his young daughter. ‘How?’
He leaned back in his chair, his outward air of relaxation mocking the churned-up way she was feeling inside.
‘By giving you a new look—one which reflects the woman you are now and not the girl you used to be. We make you over. New hairstyle. New clothes. We do the whole Cinderella thing and then reveal you to the public. The nation’s sweetheart all grown up. Just imagine the resulting publicity that would generate.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Priceless.’
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. ‘You make me sound like a commodity, Loukas,’ she said, in a low voice.
He laughed. ‘But that’s exactly what you are. Why would you think any differently? You sell images of yourself to promote a product—of course you’re a commodity. You just happen to be one which has reached its sell-by date, I’m afraid—unless you’re prepared to mix it up a bit.’
She met the hard gleam of his eyes and a real sense of sadness washed over her. Because despite the way their affair had ended, there had still been a portion of her heart which made her think of him with...
With what?
Affection?
No. Affection was too mild a description for the feelings she’d had for Loukas Sarantos. She had loved him despite knowing that they were completely wrong for each other. She had loved him more than he’d ever known because she’d been trained to keep her feelings locked away, and she had taken all her training seriously. The way they’d parted had filled her with regret and she’d be lying if she tried to deny that sometimes she thought about him with a deep ache in her heart and a very different kind of ache in her body. Who didn’t lie in bed at night sometimes, wondering how different life might have been if you’d taken a different path?
But now? Now he was making her feel angry, frustrated and stretched to breaking point. He made her want to pummel her fists against him, but most of all he made her want to kiss him. That was the most shameful thing of all—that she was still in some kind of physical thrall to him. She wanted him to cover her mouth with one of his hot kisses. To make her melt. To feel that first sharp and piercing wave of pleasure as he entered her and have it blot out the rest of the world.
She stared into his mocking eyes, telling herself that her desire was irrelevant. More than that, it was dangerous, because it unsettled her and made her want things she knew were wrong. No good was ever going to come of their continued association. He wanted to change her. To make her into someone she wasn’t. And all the while making her aware of her own failures, while he showcased his own spectacular success.
Was that what she wanted?
‘Why are you doing this, Loukas?’
‘Because I can.’ He smiled. ‘Why else?’
And suddenly she saw the Loukas of old. The man who could become as still as a piece of dark and forbidding rock. Foreboding whispered over her skin as she rose to her feet. ‘This isn’t going to work,’ she said. ‘I just can’t imagine having any kind of working association with you. I’m sorry.’
‘You should be.’ His voice was silky. ‘I’ve had my lawyers take a good look at your contract. Refuse this job and you aren’t in line for any compensation. You leave here empty-handed. Have you thought about that?’
Briefly, Jessica imagined Hannah, happily backpacking in Thailand. Hannah who had defied all expectations to land herself a place at Cambridge University. Her teenage half-sister on the other side of the world, blissfully oblivious to what was going on back home. What would she say if she knew that her future security was about to be cut from under her, by a black-eyed man with a heart of stone?
But as she bent to pick up her handbag she told herself that she would think of something. There were opportunities for employment in her native Cornwall—admittedly not many, but she would look at whatever was going. She could turn her hand to plenty of other things. She could cook and clean or even work in a shop. Her embroidery was selling locally and craftwork was becoming more popular, so couldn’t she do more of that? Better that than to stay for a second longer in a room where the air seemed to be suffocating her. Where the man she had once loved seemed to be taking real pleasure from watching her squirm.
Her fingers curled around the strap of her handbag. ‘You might want to think about changing your own image rather than concentrating on mine,’ she said quietly. ‘That macho attitude of yours is so passé.’
‘You think so?’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair and surveying her from between narrowed eyes. ‘I’ve always found it particularly effective. Especially with women. Most of them seem to get turned on by the caveman approach. You certainly did.’
With his middle finger, he began to draw a tiny circle on the contract and Jessica found herself remembering when he used to touch her skin that way. The way he used to drift his fingertip over her body with such light and exquisite precision. She’d been unable to resist him and she wondered whether any woman would be capable of resistance if Loukas Sarantos had them in his sights.
And suddenly he looked up and smiled—a cruel, cold smile—as if he knew exactly what was running through her mind.
‘Yes,’ he said softly. ‘I still want you, Jessica. I didn’t realise quite how much until I saw you today. And you’d better understand that these days I get everything I want. So I’ll give you time to reconsider your decision, but I’m warning you that my patience is not infinite. And I won’t wait long.’
‘Don’t hold your breath,’ she said, meeting his eyes with a defiant look which lasted only as long as it took her to walk out of his office, her heart pounding as she headed for the elevator.
He didn’t follow her. Had she really thought he would? Had there been a trace of the old Jessica who thought he might rise to his feet and cover the distance between them with a few purposeful strides, just like in the old days? Yes, there had. And wasn’t part of her still craving that kind of masterful behaviour? Of course it was. What woman could remain immune to all that brooding power, coupled with the steely new patina which his wealth had given him?
She shook her head as she left the building, realising that Suzy had been right. He was dangerous and the way he made her feel was more dangerous still. Far better that she walked away now and left him in the past, where he belonged.
Hurrying through the emerging rush hour, she caught the train to Cornwall with seconds to spare, but the usually breathtaking journey was shrouded in darkness. The January evening was cold and rain lashed against the carriage windows, seeming to echo her gloomy mood.
She leant her head back against the seat, wondering if she was crazy to have turned her back on a job which had been her security for so long. Yet surely she’d be crazier still to put herself in a situation where Loukas held all the power.
Her love for him might have been replaced by a mixture of anger and frustration—but she was far from immune to him. She couldn’t deny the sharp kick of desire when she looked at him, or her squirming sense of frustration. And if that frustration had been unexpectedly powerful, was that really so surprising? Because there had been nobody else since Loukas. No other lover in eight long years. He had been her first man and the only man. Wasn’t that ridiculous? And unfashionable? He’d accused her of being stuck in a rut, but he didn’t know the half of it.
Because nobody had come close to making her feel the way Loukas had done. She’d tried to have relationships with other men but they had left her feeling cold. She stared out of the window as the train pulled into the darkness of a rain-lashed Bodmin station. Other men had made her feel nothing, while her Greek lover had made her feel everything.
Just under an hour later and she was home. But the sight of the little Atlantic-facing house which usually filled her with feelings of sanctuary tonight did no such thing. Rods of rain hit her like icy arrows as she got out of the taxi. The crash of the ocean was deafening but for once she took no pleasure from it. Tonight the sound seemed lonely and haunting and full of foreboding.
And