The Savakis Mistress Page 8

  Quite an act. She looked almost apprehensive.

  As if she didn’t know her uncle had spent the last hour haranguing him about his intentions, trying to manoeuvre him into ‘doing the right thing’ by the woman he’d compromised.

  Disgust rose as Damon thought of their cleverly orchestrated ploy.

  He’d been genuinely remorseful for his behaviour last night. There’d been no excuse, not even the confusing welter of emotions Callie created inside him.

  After a lifetime protecting the women in his family he understood how appalling his behaviour was. He’d spent a sleepless night berating himself for arrogance, stupidity, his bloody ego. To distress her so…

  He’d arrived at the house early, needing to see her.

  That was when he’d learned the whole scene had been a charade. Manolis and his niece had set him up. Again.

  Manolis had taken the tone of disappointed host and strict guardian. He’d seen Callie enter the house last night. She’d been distraught, he’d said, adding a reference to her dishevelled state, her lack of jewellery and shoes.

  It was a new experience for Damon, being wrong-footed by his own actions.

  A niggle of conscience reminded him that, as far as the world was concerned, he’d acted reprehensibly. Society’s rules, his obligations as a guest, his own sense of honour all damned his behaviour.

  Except Callie was no victim. Manolis had pulled out all the stops. Throwing his daughter at Damon in hopes of a marriage to secure financial security. And, as back-up, a dirty little scheme of blackmail. From the moment Callie had given herself to her tearful flight, it had all been a con to entrap him. She’d played the role of distressed victim last night.

  Fury sizzled in Damon’s veins. He’d never been so gullible. He should have been more cautious dealing with an unscrupulous old fox like Manolis.

  Instead he’d let desire cloud his judgement. In that their cheap ploy had worked.

  His pride screamed for payback.

  Damon interrupted Manolis as he wittered on about resolving the situation. Damon would resolve it, but not the way this pair intended.

  ‘I’ll talk to your niece alone.’

  Manolis objected but Damon cut him short.

  ‘It’s too late for a chaperone.’ Damon met her snapping gaze and wondered if she’d ever been a naïve innocent. She was perfectly suited for the role of femme fatale. ‘Your niece is a widow, not an inexperienced teenager.’

  Callie shut the door carefully behind her uncle. She pressed clammy palms to the wood, trying to centre herself. Between her uncle’s words and Damon’s steely glare, she felt dazed and cornered, her pulse tripping unevenly.

  ‘What game are you playing?’ She swung round to confront Damon where he slouched in an armchair.

  One eyebrow rose indolently and her fingers curled into fists. She longed to shatter his superior air.

  ‘Game? You accuse me of playing games?’ Never had Damon looked so remote, yet Callie knew what she’d heard.

  ‘What’s this about us marrying?’

  Her uncle couldn’t be serious. Just the words froze her blood.

  Her stomach dived in distress. The sangfroid she’d clung to so desperately deserted her. She pushed away from the door and paced, unable to keep a lid on churning emotions.

  ‘What’s wrong, Callie? Having second thoughts? Or do you feel cheated I haven’t grovelled on one knee?’

  Callie couldn’t imagine Damon grovelling. Yet the idea of him on his knees before her made her feel hot and unsettled. Abruptly she paced to the window.

  ‘I want to know what you’re up to!’

  ‘According to your uncle I’m satisfying honour and obligation by making an honest woman of you.’ His face was unreadable, his words sharp. Her eyes narrowed on his rigid shoulders and tight jaw.

  ‘It was Angela you talked of marrying.’

  ‘So it was.’ His expression didn’t alter.

  Her hands curled into fists of frustration. ‘You don’t want to marry me! You said so.’

  He crossed one leg over the other, surveying her as she paced the room. He said nothing.

  ‘I’m not—’

  ‘What? A virgin?’ He smiled and instantly fire sparked in her veins. ‘It’s not a prerequisite these days. Besides, our sexual compatibility is proven.’

  ‘There’s more to marriage than sex!’ She turned her back on his penetrating gaze and stalked to the window.

  ‘Ah, there speaks the expert. Tell me, is that what held your previous marriage together? Sex?’

  Callie spun back, her hair flaring around her shoulders. ‘My marriage is none of your business,’ she hissed as poisonous memories swarmed to the surface. It was as if he knew all her weak points and delighted in prodding them. With every challenge, every snide remark, he stripped her bare and vulnerable.

  ‘You don’t even like me,’ she whispered, focusing on a point in the distance.

  The walls pushed in. Claustrophobia choked her.

  Marriage! To another controlling male! Over her dead body.

  The sound of slow clapping jerked her round. Damon’s mouth twisted in a jeering smile as he straightened.

  ‘Congratulations, Callie. If ever you decide to work for a living you’d be a huge success on the stage. You got that distress and confusion just right.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Callie felt she was walking on sands that shifted beneath her feet.

  ‘Your display of reluctance is a little overdone. I know you and your uncle concocted this plot to snare a rich man to salvage the family fortunes. But I refuse to fall in with your plot.’

  Callie frowned. ‘There was no plot.’

  ‘Your uncle just happened to be in the right spot at the right time to see you looking the picture of compromised virtue?’ His eyes flashed. ‘Give me credit for some sense.’

  Numbly she shook her head. ‘I don’t want to marry you.’

  ‘Just as well. Marrying you is the last thing on my mind.’ He spat the words as if tasting poison.

  Yet as she watched his expression changed.

  ‘But I want you, Callie.’ His voice vibrated with repressed passion. The stark hunger in his eyes sent incendiary sparks through her tense body. ‘And now I’ll have you. On my terms.’

  ‘Terms?’ It was a strangled whisper.

  ‘In my bed. But the stakes have just got higher.’

  He couldn’t want her if he believed that of her. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘After the…inconvenience of your little farce, I’ve decided I want more than one night. You’ll be my mistress, at my beck and call, for as long as I desire.’

  The sizzle in his eyes gave a whole new meaning to the phrase beck and call. The breath whistled from her lungs as his intentions sank in.

  ‘But my uncle—’

  ‘What? He’s old-fashioned enough to be distressed at the notoriety of his niece living as my mistress rather than my bride?’ His dark eyes snapped. ‘Tough. The pair of you should have thought of that before you tried to manipulate me.’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath, Callie. Those are my terms.’ He steepled his hands under his chin. ‘Accept them or face the consequences.’

  Her limbs stiffened at the threat in his dark velvet tone. Her mouth dried. ‘What consequences?’

  Damon uncurled his body from the seat and paced towards her. Each deliberate step reinforced the sensation she was being stalked. Backed against the window, she had nowhere to run. Her hands splayed on the cool glass behind her.

  ‘You think I’d let you make a fool of me then walk away unscathed? You’re not that naïve. I can break your uncle like that.’ The click of fingers near her ear made her jump.

  ‘Refuse me and I ruin him in a hostile takeover. I owe the Manolis family nothing. On the contrary,’ his lips flattened to a grim line, ‘the Manolis debt to my family is too long outstanding.’

  Callie’s eyes widened at the burr of deep-seated anger in his voice. He sounded, and looked formidable. She couldn’t doubt he meant every word.

  ‘Or,’ he continued, ‘I could temper my annoyance by taking sweet Angela for myself and leave your uncle at least the appearance of dignity.’ Damon thrust his head forward aggressively, obliterating her illusion of personal space.

  ‘Either way you lose. Your dear departed husband didn’t leave you more than a pittance and that’s already gone. Perhaps he’d discovered you weren’t an ideal wife.’

  His sarcasm barely penetrated. Callie’s stomach hollowed as memories crowded. Of Alkis’ accusations and threats. Of the nightmare life she’d led, unable ever to satisfy her husband’s expectations.

  ‘You had me investigated?’ He must have, to know Alkis had left his money to his children by an earlier marriage. Callie had thought herself beyond outrage, but a new shaft of pain sliced through her. She felt violated, knowing some investigator had pried into her life.

  Was there no end to this nightmare?

  ‘Only a cursory report into your current assets,’ he said as if invading her privacy was nothing.

  ‘Well,’ she drawled, summoning the last of her fading strength, ‘that’s all right, then.’

  His bark of spontaneous laughter echoed round the room. ‘I see we understand each other.’ He placed one hand on the wall beside her head, blocking her in. His heat enveloped her; his warm breath caressed her forehead.

  ‘The time for playing is over, Callie. Come with me now, today. It’s your only choice.’

  Panic gripped her as she felt her avenues of escape cut off. She had too much experience of ruthless men to doubt for an instant that Damon would deliver on his threats.

  Last night she’d run, unable to give herself cold-bloodedly to him. But escape had been an illusion. She’d have to face even that mortifying ordeal. Her heart sank.

  Callie shuddered at potent images of Damon demanding her submission, Damon making her body sing like an instrument tuned only to his touch.

  At least Alkis hadn’t possessed her body. But with Damon there’d be no escape, no privacy. Instinctively Callie knew she couldn’t survive a long-term relationship with him. His will was too strong, her physical weakness for him like a Trojan horse planted deep within the last bastion of her defences. Who knew what damage her destructive craving would do to her fragile sense of independence and self-worth?

  Her only hope was to keep this short-term.

  Determination and weary acceptance seeped through her, strengthening her spine.

  His face was close when she raised her head. So close her heart thudded as awareness rippled through her.

  ‘I have your word you’ll leave Angela out of this?’

  ‘You have it.’ A gleam in his eyes betrayed his pleasure. No doubt he was planning ways to enjoy her surrender. Callie repressed a shudder at the knowing, intent lick of heat in his gaze.

  Her tongue was clumsy as she capitulated.

  ‘Very well. You can have your revenge. I’ll go with you.’

  ‘I thought we were taking the big ferry.’ Damon heard a thread of what sounded like anxiety in Callie’s voice and shot her a look as a servant took their bags from the four-wheel-drive and went ahead.

  In the shade of the pine grove her face gave nothing away. It was a stiff mask, leaving him to speculate on that tiny betraying quiver at odds with her appearance.

  Yet nothing could dim his satisfaction. Ever since she’d given in to his ultimatum two hours ago, anticipation had sizzled in his blood.

  He intended to enjoy this liaison to the full.

  ‘Do I look the type to travel on crowded ferries?’

  Callie’s shoulders lifted in a tight shrug. ‘It’s either that or a helicopter to the mainland.’

  ‘Why bother when I have my yacht? We can be private aboard Circe.’

  Damon took her in slowly, from her blonde head to the white top, pale yellow trousers that cradled her neat curves and low-heeled sandals. She looked fresh and alluring in a way that had nothing to do with mercenary schemes. She looked…innocent.

  His mouth thinned at the absurdity. She was an expert in playing up to male fantasies. Last night’s charade had proved her anything but innocent.

  She knew how to tease a man’s libido. And his conscience.

  He hadn’t been privy to her conversation with Aristides Manolis this morning, but he’d heard her uncle’s bellowed disapproval. Manolis was chagrined his plan to snare Damon in marriage hadn’t worked. Seeing the barely contained fury in the older man’s eyes later, Damon knew an unexpected admiration for Callie. No little innocent could handle such a bully. Callie was savvy and determined. Quite an operator.

  ‘But…’ She paused and gnawed on her lip. He zeroed in on the movement, heat building in his belly even as his brain filed away that surprising hint of nerves for later consideration. ‘We’d get to Athens faster if we flew.’

  ‘Who said I want to return quickly? I told my assistant to cancel my appointments.’

  Damon’s gaze travelled appreciatively down her slim body. They were near the place where they’d discovered exactly how much pleasure they could give each other. Memories rose hot and close, tugging at his control.

  But he wanted the luxury of his own bed when he had her again. Despite his anger at her plot, it was desire not revenge that fired his blood now.

  ‘I’m looking forward to a leisurely trip,’ he murmured.

  She blinked but said nothing.

  He’d swear she’d been about to blurt something. Curiosity stirred. The idea of Callie saying anything unguarded intrigued him. Even in anger she gave little away. Except when she’d argued so passionately that he shouldn’t marry Angela. Then he’d known for sure she was genuine.

  ‘Isn’t Circe up to your standards?’ The yacht, just visible through the trees, was a rare vintage classic.

  He’d spent a fortune refurbishing Circe to the most exacting standards of a man used to the best. Callie probably preferred an ostentatious cruiser over gracious lines and perfect craftsmanship. Her jewellery revealed a flashy taste rather than an appreciation of beauty.

  ‘Circe is glorious. Only a philistine would think otherwise.’ Callie shot him a look that mixed surprise and scorn. ‘It amazes me that a man obsessed with takeovers and revenge recognises quality when he sees it.’ She turned on her heel and headed away from him.

  Damon surveyed her. The clench and release of her sexy bottom as she walked drew a sigh of appreciation.

  ‘How you stayed married so long with your sharp tongue is beyond me, Callie,’ he said to her retreating back. ‘I bet you didn’t make allowances for your husband.’

  He paused, intrigued, as she stopped and slowly turned. Her face was set in lines of rigid hauteur, her body preternaturally still. Had he hit a sore spot?

  When she didn’t immediately respond he continued, surprised at his need to know more. ‘Did you give him the cold shoulder too?’

  ‘I’ve told you, my marriage is none of your business.’ She drew herself up straight, perfectly erect, perfectly poised. So damnably perfect to look at it was hard to believe she was so conniving.

  ‘Why don’t you talk about it? Because you’re ashamed of the way you treated your husband? Don’t try to tell me you’re sick with grief. You’re not mourning him.’

  She paced towards him. Fury flashed in her eyes.

  ‘I suppose you’d prefer I dressed in black and retire quietly for the rest of my life.’ Her lips curled in contempt. ‘It must be upsetting to realise a woman can get on just as well without a man in her life.’

  ‘You admit it? You weren’t in love with him?’ Triumph warred with disgust as he took in her supercilious expression. ‘Is that why you don’t use your married name? Why you reverted to Manolis? Because he meant nothing to you?’

  Damon knew an insane desire to stamp his presence deep in her psyche, make her feel so much her life wouldn’t be complete without him.

  If possible the chill in her gaze deepened. Her eyes were glacial pools that would suck the heat and the life from a man unwary enough to venture there.

  ‘You’re not sentimental about keeping your husband’s name?’ he prodded. ‘Or about the man who shared your bed for all those years?’

  Damon waited for her excuses, but her mouth stayed fixed in an unyielding line.

  She really was a piece of work.

  ‘So,’ he murmured, ‘you didn’t love him. Not surprising when he was so much older than you. He must have been, what, twenty years your senior? More?’

  ‘Thirty-five.’ Her lips barely moved on the words.

  ‘Thirty-five years older than you.’ Damon whistled. ‘It must have been a challenge, summoning the enthusiasm to make love to a man so much older.’ The image of Callie, sprawled naked and beautiful, letting some grizzled codger do what Damon had done with her, turned his stomach. Acid rose in his throat. ‘Did you lie back and think of all his lovely money you could spend?’

  Silence enveloped them. A stillness so thick he could almost reach out and grasp it. Yet she didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

  What would it take to unsettle her? He knew that behind the frozen façade was a flesh-and-blood woman whose physical passion matched even his.

  ‘You know nothing about my marriage,’ she said finally. ‘You’re not even original in your insults. There’s nothing you can say about my marriage that hasn’t been said before.’ She looked as if she didn’t give a damn. ‘You don’t know me,’ she added.

  ‘I know all I need to know. I remember in perfect detail. Every sigh, every moan, every passionate response. You couldn’t get enough of me.’

  Damon stepped near, raising his hand as if to caress her cheek, stopping with his palm centimetres from her skin. Static electricity sparked between them, tickling his hand and igniting his libido.

  He watched her sway the tiniest fraction, as if drawn irresistibly to his touch. She felt it too, the tug of desire, stronger than ever. Satisfaction warmed his belly.

  Soon he’d have what he craved. Then, when he was satisfied, he’d resume normal life, free of this net that bound him tight. Even his fury at the stunt she and her uncle had pulled barely mattered. All that mattered was the extraordinary intensity of his need for Callie.

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