Mediterranean Seduction. Кэрол Мортимер
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the film card. He had come to apologise! A bubble of anticipation formed inside her, only to burst when she opened the door and saw the expression on his face.
‘May I come in?’
Charlotte felt a chill sweep over her as she moved aside to let him pass.
He walked straight into the kitchen and, moving aside the bowl of fresh flowers she had put there, left the article next to her laptop. Swinging around, he showed her the film card in the palm of his hand.
‘Thank you for returning—’
‘Are there any more of these?’ he demanded coldly.
‘I’m sorry—?’
‘You will be, if you’re hiding any more.’
Before she could stop him he went over to the kitchen drawers and started dragging them open.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Charlotte exclaimed angrily. ‘Stop that right now!’ Storming across the room, she slammed the drawers shut again. ‘I thought you had come to apologise,’ she cried in an agony of hurt and bewilderment. ‘I should have known better!’
‘Get out of my way!’ Iannis warned softly.
‘If you want to search this house you’ll have to get past me first.’
Iannis didn’t doubt it for a moment. He wondered if he had ever seen a woman looking so furious—or so desirable. He scowled in exasperation at the turn his thoughts were taking.
‘Nothing to say, Iannis?’ Charlotte demanded coldly. ‘Then may I suggest you get out of my house?’ With movements so jerky she felt like a marionette, Charlotte forced herself to walk across the room and take up position by the door.
‘Sit down, please,’ Iannis said with unconcern, holding out a chair for her. ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘I don’t think we’ve got anything left to say to each other.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ He sprang up and came to take hold of her arm.
‘If you’re trying to intimidate me,’ Charlotte flared, staring up into his face, ‘you’ve picked the wrong woman.’
‘And you picked the wrong man to involve in your little scheme,’ he informed her scathingly, guiding her to a chair.
‘Little scheme?’ Charlotte’s brow pleated in bewilderment, and she sat rigid with shock to confront him.
‘You made the wrong choice, selecting me as your victim,’ Iannis explained, holding her gaze steadily.
‘My victim?’ Charlotte’s mind raced. The article had been little short of a paean of praise to him. How could he possibly take offence at anything she had written?
As if reading her thoughts, Iannis picked up the top sheet of her article. ‘Life styles; life choices—’ He stopped reading after the title, waiting to see how she would react. ‘By Charlotte Clare.’
Charlotte shook her head, completely mystified. ‘But if you’ve read the article then you know—’
‘Know what?’ Iannis demanded in a dangerously low voice. ‘Know that you intended to expose me? Know that you intended to make money out of me? Yes, I am aware of all those things.’ He sat back and viewed Charlotte coldly. ‘The question is—what am I going to do about it—about you?’
‘You don’t have to do anything,’ Charlotte protested heatedly. ‘If you have read the article you know how positive—’
He cut in with a short, scathing laugh. ‘You don’t even bother to deny it!’
‘Why should I?’ Charlotte demanded in bewilderment. ‘I have done nothing wrong. Perhaps I should have squared it with you first, but—’
His sound of contempt cut her off. ‘Yes, perhaps you should,’ Iannis remarked bitterly.
‘I only featured you at all because—’
‘I am the type of individual that paparazzi feed off?’ Iannis cut in harshly. He was taken aback by the look of surprise on Charlotte’s face.
‘Paparazzi?’ she echoed. ‘Not that again!’
Iannis sliced a hand through the air to cut her off. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’
‘You’re way off track, Iannis,’ Charlotte insisted stubbornly. ‘If I was paparazzi, why on earth would I be interested in—?’ She broke off and paled. ‘Unless…’
‘Unless?’ Iannis echoed harshly.
Wrapping her arms around her waist, as if to protect herself against him, Charlotte felt as if a dam had just burst in her mind. If only she hadn’t been so short-sighted, so obsessed with her article. The moment was like an epiphany. Suddenly she could see the whole picture…all the clues and inconsistencies she had so far chosen to ignore.
Turning around very slowly, she tilted her chin to stare into his eyes. ‘Who are you, Iannis? I already know you’re not Iannis Kiriakos, a simple fisherman of Iskos, so who the hell are you?’
Iannis laughed scornfully as he raked stiff fingers impatiently through his hair. ‘Don’t come the innocent with me, Charlotte. It’s been tried before and it won’t work.’
‘Just answer my question,’ she said calmly.
‘Very well,’ he agreed coldly. ‘As I’m sure you’re aware, my name is Iannis Kiriakos of the Kiriakos shipping line. My business interests span the globe—but I expect you already know that too.’
Charlotte felt as though she might well be sick, or even faint. She could not take it in. He was the Iannis Kiriakos—and she never suspected it. A businessman, yes, she had half expected that…but a tycoon, a billionaire. She froze, and shut her eyes for a moment. And in that instant she knew without a shadow of doubt that she could not have loved Iannis Kiriakos the Greek tycoon any more than she loved Iannis Kiriakos the simple fisherman. But Iannis’s opinion of her was so low she could hardly bear it. As far as he was concerned she was just a cheap gold-digger with no morals at all—a woman who gave her body in the interests of getting a good story and snaring herself a rich man.
She struggled to pay attention as he continued. ‘I like to step off the bandwagon a couple of times each year,’ he said evenly, oblivious to her state of mind, ‘and that is when I come to Iskos, the island of my ancestors.’
His words hummed around Charlotte’s head like an angry swarm of bees.
‘I can see you’re not interested,’ he said accusingly.
‘I am interested,’ Charlotte countered, struggling to find a way out of the black cloud of pain. ‘You say I know all about you, but you’ve just proved that I don’t know anything about you at all. You tell me you’re this man of great wealth and status. Is that supposed to change my opinion of you? Or does it mean that it is you, Iannis, who is ashamed of your heritage? Is that the real reason you choose to punish me now? Has my article uncovered something you are reluctant to share with anyone outside this island? Do you think you might be ridiculed because you find solace and renewal here, living the life of a simple fisherman? Because if you do—’
Her words were too close to the truth, Iannis realised angrily. ‘What do you know about such things?’ he cut in harshly.
‘I know you’re wrong,’ Charlotte said. ‘I know that when people read my article, far from deriding you, they will envy you.’
‘I will not lose this,’ Iannis grated softly, as if to himself. ‘I will not allow you to continue with the publication of your article just to satisfy the gossip-hungry readers of your magazine. Here on Iskos I live as my ancestors lived. I fish as they fished. I eat as they eat.’ And I love as they loved, he thought bitterly. But this he did not say. There