The Savakis Mistress Page 3

  Her sensual abandon, her responsiveness had enchanted him on the beach. But from the moment tonight she’d stared at him with blank eyes and chilly hauteur he’d realised today’s interlude had been just a jaded socialite’s cheap thrill.

  If not something more contrived.

  He shot an assessing look from his host to Callista.

  ‘The necklace is stunning,’ he murmured.

  His gaze followed the fall of diamonds on her pendant, the way they dipped into the valley between her ripe breasts, visible in the low-cut gown.

  She knew how to show off her assets. The thought annoyed him. Or perhaps it was the cool way she surveyed him with those amazing green eyes that infuriated him. He wasn’t used to women, particularly women he’d made love to so thoroughly, being indifferent to him. Or telling him he was unworthy to share their table.

  One taste of her had left him craving more. He’d planned to look for his siren lover tomorrow. Now he discovered his fantasy woman was nothing but a spoiled rich girl who was ashamed of what they’d shared.

  Ashamed of him.

  That idea scored his pride, uncovering old wounds he thought he’d buried a lifetime ago. His slow-burning anger ignited at her dismissal, and at the fact he even cared.

  Perversely her cool-as-a-cucumber air ignited his desire. He couldn’t resist a challenge. Not while she tried to put him in his place like a dirty secret. As if, despite his wealth and power, a blue-blooded Manolis wouldn’t sully her fair skin by letting a man with his working-class roots touch her again.

  ‘Alkis’ taste was always excellent, wasn’t it, my dear?’

  ‘He certainly knew what he wanted, Uncle.’ Her voice was crisp and uninflected, as if she discussed tonight’s meal rather than the thousands of euros of gems that dripped down to her breasts. She took her wealth and her life of pampered indolence for granted.

  ‘Alkis?’ Damon queried.

  ‘My husband.’ Her eyes dropped in an expression that might have been demure if not for the flamboyant glitter at her slender neck, ears and wrist.

  Her husband. The syllables thrummed in his ears. Something hard and cold lodged in his belly. Fury sizzled along his veins.

  He should have guessed. She was a bored society wife, looking for a little diversion. That was what today’s escapade had been.

  She’d used him.

  Unbidden, memories crowded thick, of the days before he’d made his money. When his only assets had been his determination and his flair for commerce. And his looks. Rich women had clustered round him then, eager for adventure, the thrill of walking on the wild side.

  As if he’d swallow his pride to be any woman’s plaything.

  ‘Your husband isn’t here with you?’ Damon reined in brewing anger and self-disgust at having given his libido free rein without checking exactly who she was.

  Wide eyes lifted to meet his across the table. They were the colour of the sea in the secluded cove where his yacht was moored. The sea whose lapping waves had muffled the sound of this woman’s cries of ecstasy as she found release in his arms.

  For a moment he felt again that illusion of oneness they’d experienced as their bodies joined. He’d felt more pleasure with her than he could remember with any woman.

  That alone stoked his distrust. And his disgust that he’d fallen for the fantasy she projected.

  ‘My husband died some months ago, Kyrie Savakis.’ A chill shuttered the momentary warmth in her eyes.

  Too late, Callista! She might act the ice maiden now but he’d already discovered the sensuous fire that blazed inside.

  Her passion today hadn’t been the by-product of grief for her husband. There’d been no shadowy spectre between them, no yearning for the past. Just untrammelled lust.

  A merry widow indeed.

  ‘My condolences,’ he said and she inclined her head fractionally. She was so aloof. Not a trace of bereavement or even regret. Damon wondered what sort of female could lose a spouse and not feel anything. Instinct told him, whatever she concealed with that cool expression, it wasn’t a broken heart.

  ‘Alkis always chose the best,’ Manolis boomed. ‘Those diamonds are of the finest quality.’

  ‘Really?’ Damon leaned forward as if to get a better look. ‘They’re quite unusual.’ If it was unusual to expend a fortune on something so gaudy. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything to match them.’

  ‘They were made to order. Callista, give our guest a closer look. No need to stand on ceremony, girl.’

  ‘Uncle, I’m sure he doesn’t really want to see—’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Damon cut across her. ‘I’d very much like to see them up close.’ If the Manolis clan was vulgar enough to flaunt its apparent wealth, he was happy to take advantage of the fact.

  He watched a swift unreadable glance pass between Callista and her silent cousin. Then she rose and walked round the table towards him.

  Her exquisite body shimmered seductively and his groin tightened. Lamplight caught thousands of tiny silver beads on her dress. Each step accentuated her lithe lines and sultry curves in a shifting play of light. His muscles tensed with the effort of sitting still and not reaching out to touch. To claim her as, even now, he hungered to do.

  When she stood before him he caught a waft of scent that he knew retailed for an exorbitant price. He’d bought some as a parting gift for his last mistress.

  He got up, annoyance flaring as he realised he preferred the fresh, natural fragrance of her bare skin this afternoon. The artificial scent masked that.

  Yet it served to remind him the woman he’d met earlier, the woman he’d been drawn to, was a fake.

  Callista stood, her breasts rising and falling rapidly, making the stones flash and glitter. To his mind she’d look better without them. Just bare golden skin to match the dark-honey hair piled up in a chic style behind her head.

  Damon reached for one drop earring. She trembled and the stones scintillated. The fine hairs on her arms stood up, signalling her awareness of him. It couldn’t be a chill on a night so warm. Damon’s body stirred, attuned to her tension.

  He enjoyed the knowledge that she wasn’t as calm in his presence as she appeared.

  ‘Remarkable,’ he murmured, stepping in so his body almost touched hers, as if to view the heavy pendant. Instead his eyes traced her décolletage. His palms itched as he remembered the bounty of her breasts in his hands.

  ‘They are, aren’t they?’ Manolis’ voice had a self-congratulatory ring. ‘Alkis always got his money’s worth.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Damon stared into her sea-green gaze, close enough now for him to note again the gold flecks that had dazzled him earlier.

  What had her price been?

  He’d realised now, remembered the story. A pity he hadn’t made the connection earlier today. His enquiries about the Manolis family had revealed only a daughter, no scandalous niece.

  This was the woman who at nineteen had been the talk of Athens when she married a rich Greek-American more than old enough to be her father. She’d cashed in her youth and good looks for his wealthy lifestyle and prestigious name, selling herself as a trophy wife.

  Damon had been in the Pacific at the time, finalising work on a luxury marina complex. On his return everyone had talked of the match. Now he knew why. Callista was stunning, one of the loveliest women he’d met.

  His lips twisted wryly. Like her name, Callista was most beautiful. But that gorgeous body hid a strong mercenary streak. A heartlessness that had enabled her to sell herself for a life of pampered luxury.

  Deliberately he turned away, catching the startled gaze of the other woman present. ‘But sometimes it’s not fabulous jewels that are most alluring,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Sometimes a more natural style is the most attractive.’

  He caught the sound of a hastily stifled gasp beside him. Callista would be used to holding centre stage at the expense of her quiet cousin. She must have read the insult in his words.

  ‘You’re right, Damon. Absolutely right.’ Manolis boomed in that over-hearty voice as Callista resumed her seat on the other side of the table, her face expressionless. ‘Sometimes true beauty is more subtle.’

  Subtlety wasn’t a trait Damon’s host possessed. There was no mistaking his eagerness as he extolled his daughter’s virtues, as if she were a thoroughbred in an auction ring. Nor could Damon miss the younger girl’s embarrassment as her father’s bluff encomiums continued so long.

  Damon’s eyes narrowed as he sized up the situation.

  Did Aristides think he, Damon Savakis, who could take his pick of women, would be interested in a shy little mouse who couldn’t even look at him without blushing? Under her father’s watchful gaze she stumbled into halting conversation of the blandest sort. Then Manolis began blathering about the importance of family connections, of trust between those who had personal as well as commercial interests in common.

  Damon’s lips firmed. So that was the way the wind blew. Manolis hoped Damon would fix his interest on his host’s daughter.

  The man was mad.

  Or, perhaps, more desperate than he’d realised. Did he know Damon intended to dismantle his company?

  Damon’s gaze flicked to Callista. If their passion had meant anything she couldn’t be happy about her uncle’s matchmaking plans. Yet she looked regal and unruffled, if a trifle stiff. Her message was clear: she’d had her little adventure but now it was over.

  Had she acted on her own behalf when she offered herself to him today? A rich woman looking for a tumble with what she thought was a working-class lover? His mouth tightened in distaste. He’d met the sort years ago.

  Or had Aristides Manolis planned her convenient visits to the isolated cove?

  The notion had been at the back of Damon’s mind from the moment he’d found her here, glittering from head to toe like some provocative Christmas gift. The suspicion had made him lash out at her when he arrived, even as he crowded close, unable to keep his distance.

  Had Manolis discovered Damon’s early arrival to enjoy a low-key, incognito break while recuperating from flu? Had Manolis decided to soften him up before the negotiations began, using his niece as bait? It was the sort of underhand ploy he’d expect from a man like him.

  If so, Manolis had miscalculated badly. While she didn’t mind slumming it with a stranger for hot sex, obviously her aristocratic pride revolted at having to socialise publicly with a man with working-class roots.

  Anger seethed beneath Damon’s skin.

  Had she bartered her favours to help her uncle, just as she’d bartered her body for a rich husband?

  Disgust was a pungent bitterness on Damon’s tongue.

  Manolis was desperate. Soon Damon would take over the Manolis family company, lock, stock and barrel. The notion warmed the part of his soul that, despite his enormous success, could never quite let go of the past.

  There would be satisfaction in crushing Aristides’ pretensions and obliterating him commercially.

  He was minded to leave and delegate the negotiations to his lawyers. Only curiosity had prompted him to come. He remembered the awe with which his parents had spoken of the Manolis family that employed his father and grandfather. The company that had finally destroyed them.

  Times had changed and the mighty had fallen. Now Damon was the powerful one, the man whose word could make or break this family.

  Nothing he’d seen tonight made him feel anything but contempt for his hosts.

  And yet…he looked at Callista, felt the slide of her cool gaze glance off his face as she turned to her cousin. Her lips tilted in a half-smile that made his stomach tighten and his breath catch.

  Whatever her motives, she’d used him, played him for a fool.

  His male pride demanded satisfaction. Damon Savakis was used to calling the shots, not being manipulated.

  Yet even now his body hungered for hers with a raw, aching need. This wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over while he still felt this tide of desire.

  He decided in that moment to accept Manolis’ offer of hospitality and stay on. Not because the commercial negotiations demanded his presence.

  It was business of a much more personal nature he intended to pursue.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘WHAT do you mean my trust fund is frozen? It can’t be.’ Only by a supreme effort did Callie keep her voice steady as she stared at her uncle across his over-sized desk. ‘I inherit the day I reach twenty-five. That’s today.’

  He didn’t meet her eyes.

  That was a bad sign. Usually Aristides Manolis bullied his way out of answering awkward questions. The fact that he didn’t attempt it this time set alarm bells ringing. Plus he’d gone to such lengths to avoid a private conversation all week. Finally he’d summoned her to his study after they’d farewelled Damon Savakis.

  She shivered despite the sultry air wafting through the open windows. Damon Savakis was someone she didn’t want to think about.

  Her nerves were raw from an evening of stilted conversation with the man who’d alternately treated her with polite condescension and devoured her with his gaze. The man she’d actually trusted for a few short hours.

  ‘On your birthday, that was the plan,’ her uncle said, shifting a silver letter opener. ‘But circumstances have changed.’

  Callie waited, every instinct alert. But he refused to continue.

  ‘No, Uncle. Not a plan. It’s the law.’ She took a calming breath. ‘My parents set up the trust when I was a baby. Today I inherit the estate they left me.’

  She had precious little left of her parents. Memories and a well-worn photo album. When she’d come to live with her Greek relatives, a grief-stricken fourteen-year-old from the other side of the world, her uncle had brusquely informed her that her parents’ home would be sold with its contents. It was an unnecessary luxury, he’d declared, storing furniture. Better to plough the proceeds into the fund she’d inherit.

  Callie had arrived with only a suitcase and her new lime-green backpack. The one her mum had bought for the sailing holiday they’d planned.

  A jagged shaft of pain shot through her, drawing her up straight. Even now memory of that loss had the power to hurt.

  ‘You’ll get your inheritance, Callista. It will just take time to organise. I had no idea you’d be in such a rush to access the funds.’ His voice had a belligerent, accusing ring. ‘What about the money Alkis left you?’

  ‘Alkis left his fortune to his children, as you well know. I’m sure that was covered in your negotiations over my marriage.’ A tinge of bitterness crept into her voice. She cleared her throat, determined not to get sidetracked. ‘What was left I spent paying his debts. Which is why I want to sort this out. I need the money.’

  Callie had plans for her future but she needed her money to achieve them. She’d sell the last of her gaudy jewellery when she left here and put the cash to good use, starting a small retail business. She’d make her own decisions and run her life without interference.

  She’d learned her lesson. The only way to be happy was to rely on no one but herself. She knew what she wanted and nothing was going to stop her achieving her goal.

  For the first time in years she felt energised and excited, looking forward to the challenges, hard work and satisfaction of building something of her own.

  ‘Perhaps I should just call the family lawyers and—’

  ‘No!’ The word was a bellow that made her pulse jump. Her uncle wrenched his tie undone and slumped back in his chair. ‘You were always headstrong and difficult. Why can’t you wait instead of badgering me about this?’

  Years of practice kept Callie’s face impassive though her blood boiled. Headstrong! Over the years she’d allowed the men in her life to lead her from one hell into another. If anything she’d been too submissive, too stoic. She’d had enough, starting now.

  ‘Clearly I’m distressing you, Uncle,’ she said in her coolest tone. ‘Don’t disturb yourself. I’ll go to Athens tomorrow and sort out the legalities myself.’

  There was something akin to hatred in his glare. ‘It won’t do you any good. There’s nothing there.’

  Callie felt the blood drain from her face. Her uncle never joked, especially about money.

  ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ he snarled. ‘You’ll get it. As soon as this deal with Damon Savakis is finalised.’

  ‘What’s he got to do with my inheritance?’ The freeze she’d felt earlier clamped tight round her chest.

  ‘The family company…hasn’t been doing well for some time. There have been difficulties, unexpected labour and resource costs, a market downturn.’

  Strange the downturn affected only the Manolis company when rival ones, like Savakis Enterprises, were booming. Aristides Manolis wouldn’t expect his niece to know that. He thought the women in his family empty-headed and incapable of understanding even the rudiments of business.

  ‘And so?’ Callie sank into a chair, grateful for its support. Her knees felt like jelly.

  ‘So when the deal with Savakis goes through, this…temporary cash crisis will be rectified.’

  ‘No, Uncle. Even if the deal succeeds, that doesn’t explain my trust fund.’

  Aristides’ fingers tightened on the paper knife with barely repressed violence. His gaze slid away. ‘Things were so difficult with the company; I had to find a way to keep it afloat. A temporary measure to tide us over.’

  A burning knot of emotion lodged in Callie’s throat, choking her, making it difficult to breathe. She squeezed her eyes shut, hearing only her desperately thudding pulse.

  How many times would this man betray her?

  Why had she naïvely believed that finally, for the first time in her life, things would work out right?

  Greed and betrayal. Those were the constant themes in her adult life. You’d think she’d have learned to expect them by now. Yet the shock and hurt, the disbelief, were as overwhelming now as they’d been each time she’d been victim of a man’s duplicity.

  Wearily she opened her eyes and gazed at the mottled face of her dead father’s brother. The one man who, above all, she should have been able to trust.

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