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Two days later, Kallie stared at the blinking light on the intercom of her phone. Her PA’s disembodied yet unmistakably awe-struck voice floated through again. ‘Kallie…did you hear me? Alexandros Kouros is on line one for you.’
Just like that. Alexandros Kouros is on line one…
Her heart, which had stopped, started to beat again, slowly. She’d somehow, in the past forty-eight hours, tried to convince herself that she hadn’t actually seen him. That it had been some sort of bad dream. She tried to speak but nothing came out and with a huge effort she shook herself out of the inertia that seemed to have taken control of her every limb. ‘Thank you, Cécile. I’ll take it now.’
She picked up the phone, pressed the button under the blinking light and took a deep breath.
‘Hello?’
‘Kallie.’ The deep authoritative voice sounded close in her ear and made her sit up straight.
‘Alexandros.’ She marvelled that she could sound so cool when her head and insides seemed to be self-combusting. The treacherous unfurling of desire that had started the minute she’d seen him again was still there. And that knowledge scared her. What did he want? Kallie swivelled around in her chair and didn’t take in the view of Paris outside her third-floor window, the Eiffel Tower going unnoticed in the distance. Her voice was clipped, tense.
‘What can I do for you, Alexandros? I’m sure this isn’t a social call.’
Even if they didn’t share history, the most successful Greek shipping magnate in the world wouldn’t be ringing up her small Anglo-French PR firm.
His slightly accented tones came like silk down the phone into her ear again. ‘It was certainly a shock to see you the other night. It’s been, what, six years?’
‘Seven.’ She had answered far too quickly and easily. Her hand tightened around the phone, hoping that he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t seem to as he spoke again. And took the wind out of her sails.
‘I was sorry to hear about your parents…’
Kallie was feeling more and more bemused. This man had been thrown out of their house by her father. Slapped by her mother. He had told her he never wanted to see her again. He must have picked up something in the silence because he said, ‘Despite the past, Kallie, I was sorry to hear of their deaths.’
The shock at hearing his voice was beginning to wear off. ‘Well…thank you.’
She repeated her question again. ‘What…what can I do for you, Alexandros?’
He didn’t speak for a long moment, and she was almost about to repeat her question when he said with devastating banality, ‘I want you to have dinner with me tonight.’
Kallie took the phone away from her ear for a second and looked at it. Alexandros was up to something. That was one thing she was sure of. She existed on his list of people to call for dinner somewhere alongside Attila the Hun. He whizzed around the world on his private jet, doing billion-dollar deals, meeting heads of state and dating what seemed to be an endless stream of models and actresses, like Isabelle Zolanz. It was only afterwards, when she’d got away from him, that she’d realised who the other woman had been: a famous French actress. He certainly didn’t ring people he despised to ask them out for dinner. People who had ruined his chance for marital happiness. And even by some accounts a huge merger with his fiancée’s family shipping company, but she wasn’t sure about that. She’d avoided listening to anyone talk about it at the time and in England, at least, it hadn’t hit the news with the same force.
‘Somehow I don’t think you do, Alexandros.’
‘But I do, Kallie. I’d like us to catch up,’ he returned easily. Far too easily. As if he’d anticipated exactly how she’d respond.
Kallie’s hand tightened even more on the phone and she felt dizzy. This had to be some kind of bad dream, a sick joke. He was playing with her.
‘Alexandros, I don’t want to go out for dinner. You said you never wanted to see me again.’
‘Well, I’ve changed my mind.’
‘Why?’ she almost pleaded.
‘Let’s just say you owe me at least this, don’t you think?’
Kallie closed her eyes weakly. What could she say? She searched frantically for an excuse but, as if reading her mind, his voice trickled down the line like dark honey, weaving around her senses.
‘I had a nice chat with your assistant. She was most helpful in informing me how clear your diary is this evening.’
Kallie cursed Cécile mentally. And yet she couldn’t stop the entirely uncontrollable part of her that was intrigued…that wanted to be able to say yes. She had no excuse not to, and to fight was to invite him further into a dialogue that might take them down a path she didn’t want to go.
Her voice was stiff with obvious reluctance. ‘It would seem that I have no choice. I’m finished work around six this evening…when would suit you?’
‘I have a table booked for dinner at the Hotel de Crillon at the Place de la Concorde. Eight o’clock. I can pick you up…or send my driver?’
Kallie thought of her tiny flat in the Marais district and spoke quickly. ‘No. There’s no need. I can meet you there.’
She could almost feel him shrug on the other end of the phone. ‘As you wish. Eight, then. I’ll wait for you in the bar.’
CHAPTER THREE
ALEXANDROS put down the phone and stood up from the leather chair. In custom-made Italian trousers and shirt, he walked over to the window of his office and stuck his hands deep in his pockets. The action drew the fabric taut over his buttocks, the shirt stretched over broad shoulders. He cut an impressive, very masculine figure silhouetted against the window. He thought back to the other night. The remnants of the shock of seeing Kallie again still lingered. Along with the shock of how much she’d changed, and the desire that had pounded through his entire body. That still pounded through it just from hearing her voice.
It had been harder to extricate himself from Isabelle than he had thought. It had taken two nights. More jewellery. And dinner in the newest, most expensive restaurant. She’d been more tenacious than he’d realised and he was relieved the episode was over. She’d begun to fancy herself as perhaps being in line for marriage and had not been pleased to discover that, instead, he’d wanted to end things.
He looked out at the horizon, his gaze skipping absently over the Eiffel tower in the distance. His thoughts centred on Kallie. Her blue-green eyes flashed again in his mind’s eye. Seven years might as well have been seven seconds. He’d been transported back in time that quickly. Felt all the old emotions surge up. Emotions he’d long thought he had under control. Apparently not.
He’d been such a fool all those years ago. How had he missed seeing her true colours? How had he ever thought for a second of her family being closer to him than even his own? His hand clenched into a fist as he remembered how vindictive she’d been. And how he hadn’t seen it coming at all.
He’d been fooled into somehow believing that she of all people wouldn’t have changed. He could still remember seeing her across the room that night, smiling sweetly at him. It had been like balm to his ravaged spirit. A cool reminder of happier times, more carefree concerns. And then to have her morph into some kind of temptress, right in front of his eyes. He could still feel the astonishment that had slammed into him. So immobilising that he hadn’t even pulled away from her kiss immediately.
Everyone along the way had shown their true colours in the end. Not least his own family. But for Kallie to join those ranks…and to behave in a way that he would never have even imagined. She’d had him thrown out of her house, his fiancée’s life, and his name had been dragged through the mud.
By using her own e-mail to send the photo and story, it had been so obvious she’d meant it like a taunt! And she’d had the nerve to reveal deeply personal details to the newspaper that only she could have known…because she had been the only person he’d ever told them to. Details like wishes and dreams…aspirations that had had nothing to do with what had been expected of him.
His mouth slashed into a grim line. The vultures who had already smelt a possible weakness on his father’s death had circled for a long time. He repressed a shudder. And they’d nearly got him.
He had to acknowledge that when he’d told her those things he’d been two years younger, before his father had died, and she’d been fifteen. He hadn’t yet been flung at top speed into a reality that had torn any rose-tinted dreams away. A reality that had mocked him for having been so open. The fact that she would have stored those conversations up to use in such a way made his stomach turn.
That period had been the turning point for so much. A turning point that meant he’d never, ever let anyone get that close again. He operated on his own now. He didn’t need anyone.
He slammed a fist against the wall beside him. How could she have changed so much in those two years? He closed his eyes. He’d asked himself the questions over and over. The fact was, he’d been betrayed. All he’d ever represented to anyone around him had been a means to make money. To generate wealth. When he’d turned his back on her that day, he’d turned his back on a lot of things.
Enough. Kallie Demarchis was about to learn what it meant to cross Alexandros Kouros. It was time for her to taste a little of the reality he’d had to taste.
His mind went to the plans he’d set in motion since seeing her again. It was true that he’d never been one with a lust for revenge, seeing it only as a device that could betray a weakness to the opposition. That could betray emotion. When all around him had descended to that visceral level in business, he never had. And it was part of the secret of his success. Part of what had helped him claw back control, get to the top. Go further than even his father had done.
He thought of how, when Alexei Demarchis had come to him for help, he’d debated for a long time whether or not to entertain the man. He smiled grimly. He’d made the right decision. Fate had just told him so.
Now he was willing to rethink his views on revenge…especially when it was laid out for him so enticingly, so temptingly, when his loins ached with a hunger that was all too rare. It was time for him to lay the ghost to rest and indulge a little.
Kallie took in the passing streets of Paris. She’d never normally take a taxi, the métro being more than efficient for her needs, but a last-minute crisis at work and a derailed train had meant she was under pressure to make the Hotel de Crillon for eight. She felt nervous and jittery. Her hands felt clammy, so she smoothed them distractedly on her dress. What would it be like, seeing Alexandros again? He was even more handsome than she could have imagined. The stark, masculine lines of his face were indelibly imprinted onto her retina. He’d seemed even bigger to her. Six feet four of nothing but lean, hard muscle. Her belly clenched in a pure spasm of sheer, unadulterated lust and she tried to take her mind off his physical attractions.
He hadn’t ever married, there had been no talk of it since the debacle with Pia Kyriapolous. He obviously hadn’t managed to mend bridges there. From what Kallie could remember, Pia had quite quickly married someone else. No doubt further rubbing salt into Alexandros’s wound. Pia had been one of the most successful models in Greece, the daughter of another very wealthy shipping magnate. The day after the engagement had been announced, Kallie had had to endure everyone saying that it was a match made in heaven.
Kallie knew now with maturity and hindsight that her developing sexuality had been hopelessly snared by Alexandros. But, of course, he hadn’t noticed that. Hadn’t noticed her like that. So that’s why, with the very vocal, almost bullying encouragement of Eleni, she’d gone out to find him that night. She closed her eyes and gulped. She did not need to go there now, not when she was going to be seeing him in mere minutes. She was a grown woman, in control of herself and her emotions.
She smiled grimly to herself, opening her eyes. She’d confused immature, infatuated lust with love. And as for Eleni…Kallie sighed deeply. There was no point thinking about that now, there was nothing she could do anyway. It was all water under the bridge.
She saw that the taxi was pulling into the area outside the main door of the hotel. She went hot and then cold in the space of seconds. They came to a halt. The porter stepped forward to help her out. She looked up at the distinctive name on the awning over the door and, with her legs feeling decidedly wobbly in her high heels, stepped into the distinctively honey-coloured marble foyer.
At the door to the small bar she saw him immediately. And felt the urge to turn around and step back outside. Go home, pack up and move back to London. She straightened her spine and walked forward. He was sitting on a high stool, a glass with dark liquid swirling around the bottom in his hands. He didn’t see her approach and there was something so intense about the way he was studying the liquid…almost as though he was looking for some kind of answer. Kallie dismissed her fanciful notions and came to a halt near him, doing her best not to be bowled over by his physicality.
She cursed her voice, which sounded unbearably husky. ‘Alexandros…’
He looked up and those dark, deep depths caught her and sucked her in. She was in trouble. He stood with lithe grace, no hint of expression on his face. He reached to take her coat. Reluctantly she let him help her out of it, studiously avoiding touching him anywhere.
‘Sorry I’m a bit late. I got held up at work.’
He smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. ‘No problem. We’ll have a drink here and then go through.’
He was charm and urbanity incarnate. And he didn’t fool her for a second. Kallie followed him on legs which had become like cotton wool. He led her over to a table and gestured for her to sit down. She was glad of her simple silk shirt and plain back skirt. Glad she hadn’t made an effort. The waiter arrived and Kallie ordered water.
Alexandros lifted a brow and ordered a whiskey for himself. ‘No alcohol tonight, Kallie?’
An immediate blush stained her cheeks as the meaning of his loaded question cut through her. He was referring to that night, the way she’d grabbed the bottle from his hand. Again she was aghast at his memory. Had he forgotten nothing? She shook her head tightly.
She wasn’t going to tell him that ever since that night she’d never touched a drop of alcohol. She’d had plenty of opportunity but somehow, when it came to it, she just couldn’t. Something would flash back into her head, and she’d find that even the smell turned her stomach. She had the very uncomfortable suspicion that her bizarre reaction was somehow tied in to the fear that something out of her control would happen. Like it had that night.
‘Look, I’m sure you’re busy. We really don’t have to do this whole dinner thing. Do you want to just tell me—?’
‘All in good time, Kallie.’ He bent forward and Kallie fought against arching back into the chair. She felt very keenly as though she were involved in something huge, but something she had no clue about. Like a fly caught in a web. And she didn’t like it. Not when Alexandros smiled at her like the hungry spider.
‘Tell me,’ he asked equably when her water arrived, ‘how have you ended up here in Paris? Didn’t you go to college in the UK?’
She nodded slowly, determined not to show her fear, her sense of being intimidated. But despite her wariness, she found it surprisingly easy to talk.
‘After my mother and father died, I wanted to get away from London. I’ve always loved Paris. I had spent a year here during my business degree, taking French…’ She shrugged, awkward under his intense gaze. ‘It seemed like an obvious choice. I had money from my inheritance and set up our small firm. We got busy quickly as we seemed to corner the niche in doing PR for English companies setting up here and vice versa for French ones in London…’
Alexandros thought of the rapid research he’d done on Kallie that day. The countless pictures he’d unearthed of her at various parties, looking like the life and soul of each one. Although her appearance opposite him begged to differ, as she sat there in her plain skirt and blouse, which did little to disguise the curves he’d seen on display the other night.
And despite her abstinence from alcohol so far, he didn’t doubt that she used it and maybe more to enhance her partying. He felt inarticulate rage start to rise, some indefinable sense of disappointment, and forced himself to be civil. For now.
‘You’ve done more than corner the niche. I read about your company in the financial press—you were awarded best new small business last year. That’s some achievement.’
Kallie was too surprised at his praise and it was given in far too much of a backhand manner for her to feel a glow of pride. She shrugged again modestly. ‘Like I said, we just got in at a good time. Britain has never been so close to France with the tunnel, and plenty of people are capitalising on it. I’m one of many.’
‘Yes, but not everyone makes a success of it. You obviously have the Demarchis genes.’
‘Which are nothing compared to the Kouros genes,’ she pointed out with a wry smile, feeling herself start to relax slightly. The smile surprised her and she pursed her lips immediately. She knew that to feel relaxed was entering very dangerous territory.
‘Maybe so.’ Alexandros’s eyes dropped to her mouth and rested on her full bottom lip. Her sudden smile had caught him off guard. His head felt uncharacteristically hazy as all he could imagine was how it might feel to take that bottom lip between his, explore its lush cushiony softness, parting them softly with his tongue…
With relief, he saw the head waiter from the restaurant approach the table. ‘Mr Kouros, I’m sorry to bother you. Will you be having another drink here or taking your table now?’
He stood with the grace of a huge jungle cat, making Kallie shiver. ‘Now, Pierre. Thank you for waiting.’
He waited for Kallie to stand and precede him from the bar, curling his hands into fists when an urge struck him to reach out and place a hand on the curve of her hip, feel it sway against his hand, explore how the silky fabric of her shirt played across her skin. He took in the sheen of glossy hair, longer at the back than he’d thought, the soft waves tamed from the unruly curls of her youth.
The crippling ennui was definitely fading, and he had to admit that he was looking forward to the future for the first time in a very long time.
‘Good?’ Alexandros’s soft question came across the table. Kallie looked at him warily. He lounged back in his own chair. At obvious ease in the sumptuous, gilded surroundings, the famous restaurant, Les Ambassadeurs. She’d heard that this was the hotel that hosted every year an exclusive ball for debutantes, where twenty-four privileged young women from all over the world, aged from fifteen to nineteen, would have their introduction into society. Kallie’s insides clenched when she thought of herself at seventeen.
She dragged her attention back, nodded and set her knife and fork on her cleared plate. A slight flush of colour entered her cheeks. Why couldn’t she have just ignored the plate of food? He must be disgusted by the way she’d tucked in. Stress for her meant eating more, not less, and she hated to be reminded of the fact. It wasn’t so long ago that she’d still carried around her puppy fat.
‘Amazing,’ she said tightly with a bright smile. ‘My appetite has never been a problem, as I’m sure you remember.’
His eyes ran down her body, what he could see of it. To where her waist curved in before swelling out again to her hips in a way that was fast becoming a provocative invitation to him.
Kallie felt her insides heat up under his look. Why had she drawn attention to herself? She remembered his nasty jibe that she must have had work done. His eyes thankfully rose to meet hers again.
‘You seem to still be self-conscious. You were a little chubby maybe, but what teenager doesn’t go through that?’
Chubby…!
Humiliation flooded Kallie when she thought of how impassioned she’d been that night on the patio. How her body had burned for him, how for once she’d been unaware of anything other than the sensations that had overwhelmed her, her untutored, gauche advances. And how she’d ever imagined for a second that he might be turned on by her. But, of course, he hadn’t been. It hadn’t taken long for him to come to his senses. She wanted to close her eyes, block out the potent sight of him.
‘Alexandros, surely it’s time to tell me—’
He ignored her plea, butting in. ‘No. It’s not.’
She flinched back slightly at his harsh tone and he seemed to notice. She could see a pulse flicker at his jaw, as if he was controlling something.
‘Tell me, Kallie. Why did you feel it necessary to tell that rag about our conversations? Wasn’t it enough to just publish the photo?’
She flushed a dull red. It had killed her when she’d found out just how her own trust had been abused so abominably. But by then it had been too late. And would he understand what it was like to be a teenage girl in the throes of young passion? How she’d merely confided in someone she’d thought she could trust? Of course he wouldn’t. The Alexandros she’d known a long time ago might have…but this man wouldn’t.
She gave thanks for having held her tongue about Eleni…for not having blurted out the truth. Eleni’s situation meant that Kallie couldn’t use her as an easy excuse for vindication. She had to find out just what he wanted. Because that was as clear as the nose on her face. He wanted something.
Kallie hardened her heart. She had to. Those conversations he mentioned had belonged to another time, a more innocent time when she’d believed he’d had different sensibilities, like her own. But, she had to remind herself, once his father had died and he’d taken over running Kouros Shipping, he’d changed. Under his hands it had gone from million-dollar profits to generating billions. That wasn’t the same person she’d known who had confided a wish to go to art college. He’d obviously smelt the chance to make money, lots of it, and he’d changed.
But, pathetically, she couldn’t stand the thought that he would tar her with the same brush, despite the evidence she knew was stacked against her. ‘I didn’t…It wasn’t how you think…’ she said ineffectually, miserably.
He leant forward, his face hard. ‘Oh, and just how was it, Kallie?’
Now they were getting to it. Kallie felt something like relief flood through her. This she could handle. Alexandros being angry, hating her.
She looked at him slightly defiantly. She could, at least for the moment, be honest about this. ‘I never intended to hurt you, Alexandros. Believe what you want—you made up your mind that day.’
He was derisive. ‘Oh, you didn’t hurt me, Kallie. But you did wreak a trail of destruction with your careless, cruel actions.’
She swallowed painfully. She hadn’t been intentionally cruel. But he was right—she’d been careless, and foolish. She couldn’t argue with him about that.
‘Your uncle Alexei…’
He didn’t finish the sentence. His rapid changes of subject caught her off guard. He was like an opponent conducting some form of mental martial art. Immediately she was wary. She clenched her hands into fists under the table.
‘What about him?’
Alexandros shrugged negligently. ‘I hear he’s having some difficulties…’
Guilt flooded Kallie. She suddenly remembered her uncle’s words from the other night, how he’d mentioned he’d had to get in touch with Alexandros. It hadn’t occurred to her to question him, she’d been so distracted.
‘What kind of difficulties?’ she bit out. Hating Alexandros with passion at that moment. He was milking every single moment of this dinner. Her nerves were on a knife edge of sensation so acute that she thought she might break in two.