The Greek Tycoon's Bride - Page 36

A single thickness of white-painted brickwork on both sides of the balcony gave the rooms privacy, but she could distinctly hear Andreas sigh as he sat down on one of the wicker chairs the balconies contained, and then she heard the chink of a glass.

He couldn’t sleep, either. She wouldn’t have believed how comforting the thought was as a little tingle of something like excitement slid down her spine and her heart began to pound. Perhaps he was thinking of her? Maybe his body and mind were as restless as hers—knowing full well what was needed to assuage the craving that was part pain, part pleasure.

Should she call out softly to him? Suggest they share a nightcap together as they were both awake? And if by any chance one thing led to another—well, it wasn’t a crime, was it? She wanted him, needed him, tonight. She ached for his touch.

The sudden realisation of where her mind had gone came like a physical jolt, and it was in that second Sophy realised that much more than her body was involved in her feelings for Andreas. She had fallen for him. Okay, so she wasn’t sure if it was love or not—certainly this emotion was as different to the quiet, comfortable contentedness she’d felt with Matthew as it was possible to be—but something in her spirit had been drawn to him from their first meeting and she had started fighting it from that point, too.

‘Oh, no…’ It was just the faintest of whispers and he couldn’t possibly have heard it, but she covered her mouth tightly with the palm of one hand none the less.

Not Andreas Karydis. She couldn’t have been so stupid. He was everything she didn’t like in a man, so how had it happened? He was arrogant and forceful and intensely physical, and in spite of the good time they had had over the last days she didn’t doubt for a minute that he could be utterly ruthless and subjective when he had to be. Or when he wanted to be. And he had already made it abundantly clear that he wanted her physically and that was the point of his interest. Dress it up how you like, that was what it boiled down to.

She stepped quietly away from the windows which she left slightly ajar, fearing he would hear if she tried to shut them again, and fumbled among her things for the packet of painkillers she’d brought with her. The weeping she’d indulged in earlier, combined with lack of sleep, had created a nagging ache at the base of her skull, which had got distinctly worse in the last few minutes.

She wasn’t going to think about anything any more. She took two of the painkillers with a drink of water and climbed back into bed, drawing the stiff hotel covers over her tense body and willing herself not to cry again. She would be more level-headed in the morning; everything always seemed at its blackest in the hours before dawn.

When Sophy came downstairs in the rather quaint, old-fashioned hotel they had booked into the night before, Andreas was already seated, reading the newspaper, at a table for two in the far corner of the small, flower-festooned dining room. He was sitting next to an open window which overlooked the hotel’s pretty cobbled courtyard, which was complete with a sparkling fountain, and for a moment Sophy stood still in the doorway as she looked at him before he became aware of her presence.

The white sunlight picked up a sheen of blue in the jet-black hair and he was frowning slightly as he read, a little habit of his she had noticed over the last few days.

There was something so magnetic about his good looks, his whole persona, she thought weakly. And yet it wasn’t really his looks, nor even his powerful body or dark sexiness. She couldn’t find words, not even to herself, to explain the age-old call, but it was there, and it was virile and consuming and infinitely dangerous.

Being with him so closely over the last few days had confirmed what she had sensed the first time she’d met him—that women would want him, and badly. He would only have to lift his little finger and they’d come running. To get emotionally involved with a man like him would be a constant agony of wondering. Wondering if one female, more gorgeous or just plain predatory than the rest, had managed to get his attention. Wondering where he was if he was late any time and whether this was the day you would be replaced in his affections. Wondering how long you could hang on to him and to your sanity…

‘Miss Fearn?’ The young waitress who had served them dinner the night before was at her side, and as Sophy came out of the black thoughts she smiled at the pretty face but didn’t correct the girl, letting the Miss ride because it was simpler. Perhaps if you got involved with a man like Andreas you had to let a lot of things ride to keep things simple, she thought bleakly. Other women’s come-hither smiles and his responses, a phone call that was supposedly a wrong number, the faint odour of a different perfume to her own or a trace of lipstick…

She had listened to friends and colleagues list all those things during marital or long-term break-ups in her time, and on each occasion she had thought of her mother and the pain her father must have inflicted on a woman whose only mistake was to love her husband utterly. And whatever her father had had to draw the opposite sex, Andreas had it tenfold.

She followed the waitress across to the table automatically, forcing a smile as Andreas looked up at their approach. ‘What is it? You look pale. Are you unwell?’

He was all concern, but she couldn’t keep the thread of stiffness out of her voice as she said, ‘No, no I’m all right. I just didn’t sleep too well. The bed was lumpy.’

‘I told you we should have gone to a more modern hotel, but you insisted you found this one picturesque.’

The tender indulgence with which he spoke was untenable, and her voice was sharp as she said, ‘I’m not complaining, merely answering your question.’

Her tone straightened his face and narrowed his eyes, but after a long look at her white complexion he merely said quietly, ‘I have waited for you before ordering. I intend to have croissants followed by a full English breakfast. What would you like?’

Sophy glanced up at the waitress. ‘Just croissants and coffee for me please.’ She had snapped at him and been unforgivably rude; if she hadn’t realised it herself the touch of steel in the square jaw would have told her. But this…whatever it was—flirtation, tenuous dalliance, sexual game—had to stop. It had to finish where it mattered, in her head.

She was getting in too deep and Jill had been right after all. He was tying her up in knots and she wasn’t even sure if he was aware of it. All she did know was that the more she was with him, the more she fell under his spell, and what would be the outcome? What could be the outcome? A brief affair and then a lifetime of regret. He had pursued her because he wanted her physically and she hadn’t fallen into his arms like his other women. She appeared unattainable and that had intrigued him.

She rem

embered her mother saying once, with pathetic pride, that she had worn her white dress on her wedding day with every right to do so. Whether it had been due to her principles or a strategic plan, her mother had netted her father because she hadn’t given him what most other females had been only too ready to give, but it hadn’t altered the basic character of the man. Nothing could do that. She’d be fooling herself to think otherwise.

‘Okay, what has happened?’ Andreas’s voice was very quiet.

Sophy glanced at him and found the grey eyes were tight on her face, his own countenance expressionless. She took a deep breath before she could say, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Don’t give me that.’ It was low and controlled but intense. ‘You are a different woman to the one of the last few days,’ he said grimly. ‘This Sophy is the one who looked at me with such dislike at the airport, but I thought we had left that behind us.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Even to herself her voice sounded desperate. ‘How could I have looked at you like that when I didn’t even know you? And how could anything have happened since last night?’

‘This I do not know but I intend to find out,’ he said softly.

‘There’s nothing to find out.’ This was awful, and it was all her fault. ‘You’ll just have to take my word on that.’

‘So you are the same happy, sparkling-eyed girl of the last few days?’ he bit out caustically. ‘Is that what you are saying?’

Tags: Helen Brooks Billionaire Romance
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