The Greek's Ultimate Revenge

For a moment he felt consumed by it, overwhelmed. Then, with deliberate control, he subdued his reaction.

It was good that he desired her, it would make his task so much easier, but that was the only reason he should feel desire for her.

It was a means to an end, that was all—he had to remind himself of that, no matter how vulnerable she looked.

Harlequin Presents®

They’re the men who have everything—except brides…

Wealth, power, charm—what else could a handsome tycoon need? In the GREEK TYCOONS miniseries you have already met some gorgeous Greek multimillionaires who are in need of wives.

Now meet the prosperous, striking and very determined Nikos Kyriades in Julia James’s The Greek’s Ultimate Revenge

This tycoon thought he could extract his revenge without any feelings—only to learn how the power of love can ignite a cold heart!

Don’t miss the next book in this miniseries,

Bought by the Greek Tycoon

by Jacqueline Baird

#2512

The Greek’s Ultimate Revenge

Julia James

To my editor, Kim—

many, many thanks.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

‘NIKOS! You’ve got to do something! You’ve got to! The little trollop has got her claws into Stephanos so deep he can’t see straight!’

Nikos Kiriakis looked down at the woman lying in the hospital bed. She looked dreadful, and it stabbed at him painfully. Her face was pale and drawn, and she looked ten years older than her thirty-nine years. Though it had been only a minor operation medically, psychologically it had taken a much greater toll.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, now it seemed her husband had chosen this moment of all times to be unfaithful.

Nikos’s dark gold-flecked eyes hardened. His older sister had been a devoted wife to Stephanos Ephandrou—she didn’t deserve this. Not now.

Not when a doctor had just told her that the results of a laparoscopy were showing that both her Fallopian tubes were irreparably damaged. That her desperate years of trying to give Stephanos the child he longed for had been, as she had so feared, totally in vain.

Nikos had tried to take the most optimistic line with Demetria when she’d relayed the results to him just now. Told her that at least the doctors now had a reason for her continued infertility, and that there were methods of assisted conception available that held out hope for her still, even at her age. She might still be able to give Stephanos a child—she must not give up trying.

Then Demetria had dropped her bombshell.

‘He doesn’t even want a child from me! He’s got another woman!’

Her voice had been strained and bitter. Very bitter.

Stunned, Nikos had heard her out. Of all the men he knew, Stephanos Ephandrou had seemed to be the last husband to run a mistress. He had always been devoted to Demetria, had even said when he married her that he was glad her first marriage had borne no children rather than view it as what it was—a warning that perhaps all was not well with his twenty-nine-year-old bride’s reproductive system.

Stephanos had married her after he’d finally persuaded her to divorce her chronically philandering first husband—her late father’s choice for her, a socially suitable match for a Kiriakis, who had seen no reason to stifle his sexual proclivities on that account. And now it looked as if Stephanos was cut from the same cloth as Demetria’s first husband—or worse. For what could be said about a man who was prepared to chase after another woman when his own wife was battling with infertility?

He lowered his tall frame, clad in an impeccably cut business suit, carefully onto the side of Demetria’s bed. His handmade jacket eased across his broad shoulders as he took her hands, rubbing them gently.

‘Demi, are you sure you’re not imagining things? Stephanos would never be so cruel, so dishonourable.’

His sister clutched his hands, flexing her thin shoulders forward from the pillows supporting her.

‘I’m not imagining things! He’s found some blonde twenty-five-year-old and he’s set her up where he can go and visit her whenever he can. He’s there with her now. He’s obsessed with her—he’s changed completely. I can tell. I can tell!’

Her voice rose dangerously.

‘You’ve got to help me, Nik. You’ve got to!’

Nikos let go of her hands.

‘You say you know where he has installed her? Tell me everything else you know about this,’ Nikos instructed calmly. He was subduing his own instinct, which was to seek out Stephanos and beat him to a pulp. But that wouldn’t help his sister.

Demetria swallowed heavily and took a difficult breath.

‘Her name is Janine Fareham. She picked Stephanos up at Heathrow the last time he was in London. He flew her straight out here and set her up.’

‘In Athens?’ Nikos asked sharply. His mind was racing. To pick up a rich, middle-aged man at an airport and be installed in luxury by him the following day was fast work—the girl must be skilful indeed! Unconsciously, his sculpted mouth curled in disdain.

Demetria was shaking her head.

‘No, he’s put her in that latest resort of his on Skarios.’ Her voice became strained and bitter again, ‘Maybe that way he thinks I won’t know what he’s up to!’

Nikos frowned slightly.

‘How do you know?’

‘Philip,’ Demetria answered simply. ‘I made him tell me. Stephanos was behaving so strangely—I knew something was up.’

Nikos nodded, not all that surprised. Philip was Stephanos’s right-hand man in the office, and usually the soul of discretion, but he had a soft spot for Demetria and Nikos could just see her badgering him to confirm her suspicions. Silently he cursed the other man—this was definitely one time when ignorance would have been the better option. Demetria just simply didn’t need this kind of heartache right now.

Demetria clutched at his hand again.

‘You will do something, won’t you, Nik? Please—you must—you just must! I can’t talk to Stephanos. I just can’t. He’s trying to be nice to me—but it isn’t working. He’s so strange, so withdrawn. He can’t look me in the eye. It’s that woman’s fault! She’s got him totally in her clutches! She’s one of those whores that use rich men and don’t care what damage they do!’

Her voice was rising once more, and there was a note of hysteria in it. Again Nikos took her hands and squeezed them lightly.

‘She’s got him infatuated with her. I know it. And how can I blame him?’ Her voice broke almost into a sob. ‘Look at me—middle-aged and barren. I’m useless to him—useless! No wonder he doesn’t want me any more.’ A hectic flush spread out over her cheeks and her eyes were anguished.

Silently Nikos reached out a hand and pressed the call button, then leant forward and kissed his sister on the cheek.

‘You are a wife any man would be proud to have. This is nothing but idiocy on Stephanos’s part,’ he told her firmly. He got to his feet and looked down at the stricken woman. ‘Infertility takes its toll on a man, too, Demetria,’ he said quietly. ‘I think this is nothing more than temporary madness—Stephanos will come back to you; I am sure of it.’

Demetria clutched at him again.

‘Get rid of her—Nik. If anyone can get her to leave my Stephanos alone it’s you! Please, for my sake, I beg you. Get her claws out of my husband! Do whatever you have to—whatever it takes.’

The hysteria was definitely identifiable now, and Nikos felt his emotions mount. Demetria was the only family he had left now, since their parents’ death, and he’d seen her through so much unhappiness—so much. He’d seen her through the ordeal of divorcing her first husband, backing her all the way and telling Stephanos not to lose hope, that the woman he loved would free herself if he just stood by her. He would not turn aside now, when their marriage was in such danger, however much of a besotted fool his brother-in-law was being.

Nikos knew exactly what his sister was asking of him. His face tightened and he looked across at her.

‘You can do it, Nik! I know you can.’ There was a terrible hope in her voice now. ‘Women always fall at your feet. Always! Make this one do the same. Make her besotted with you so she leaves my Stephanos alone. Please, Nik, please!’

‘I could speak to Stephanos,’ he said slowly.

His answer was a violent shake of her head, panic in her eyes.

‘No! No! I can’t bear him knowing that I know. I can’t. If you could only just get rid of her, get her claws out of him, he’d come back to me. I know he would. Oh, Nik, please. Please! If I could get pregnant—oh, dear heaven, if I could just get pregnant—then he’d be happy with me again! But if that harpy hangs on to him he’ll never come back to me. Never!’

This was bad, thought Nikos. Demetria should not be upsetting herself like this, not at such a time. She’d been under such strain for so long, her desperation for a child eating into her.

But she was asking him to interfere in her marriage—come between a husband and his wife.

His expression tightened again suddenly. No, she was only asking him to come between a husband and his mistress…

A long, slow breath was exhaled from him as he soothed her hands.

His long lashes lowered over his eyes.

‘What I can do, I will,’ he promised her.

Her expression relaxed a fraction, the hectic look fading a little from her eyes.

‘I knew I could count on you—I knew it!’ There was relief in her voice now—relief and gratitude. ‘You’ll go right away, won’t you, Nik? Won’t you? You’ll go and find her and get her claws out of Stephanos?’

‘Very well.’ His voice was sombre. Then he took another breath, quicker this time. ‘But you, Demi, must promise me that you will start treatment immediately! No more prevaricating. The doctors have told you what can be done—there is considerable hope; you know there is. But these things take time—the doctors must have told you that—and you must delay no more.’ His eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘It might be a good idea,’ he said slowly, ‘to consult a fertility expert abroad—somewhere requiring quite a journey. Say, America. Get your doctor here to recommend someone in America. Tell Stephanos that he is the best and you insist on seeing him—and that he must come too. He will do that for you, I am sure. But I need time, Demi—you understand?’

Her eyes had lit up as she understood what he was suggesting. ‘Sophia’s daughter’s wedding!’ she added suddenly. ‘I told her we couldn’t come—but I think, oh, I really think that we might be able to make it after all. We could go on to Long Island after I’ve seen a consultant in New York.’

The hectic flush was fading now, and hope was filling her again—he could see it. She was speaking rationally—eagerly.

Her brother gave a tight smile.

‘Two weeks. I need at least that long to do what you want,’ he told her. ‘Make sure Stephanos is away from Greece for two weeks. And Demi?’ His eyes were hard. ‘Keep him out of contact with the girl! I don’t want her distracted.’ His eyes hardened even more. ‘Except,’ he finished, his mouth twisting, ‘by me.’

‘Two weeks,’ she promised him. Already her expression was less gaunt, her eyes less haunted. ‘Oh, Nik,’ she cried suddenly. ‘You are the best, the very best of brothers! I knew you would help me. I knew it!’

As he handed Demetria over to the care of a nurse and left the private room, to stride on long legs down the lushly carpeted corridors of the exclusive clinic, his face grew grim. Stephanos was being a fool, all right. Even if he hadn’t been married, and to a wife tormented by infertility, at fifty-two he had no business running after a girl of twenty-five. He was more than twice her age, for heaven’s sake!

His expression darkened even more. But of course men in their fifties trying to recapture their youth were prime meat for girls like the one who had snared his brother-in-law. And if they were rich, as Stephanos Ephandrou undoubtedly was, they were even more attractive.

His eyes took on a cynical light. Well, if it was meat such girls wanted to feed on, then he was primest of the prime! On the Richter scale of desirable protectors he had to score even higher than Stephanos. His wealth was as great as Stephanos’s, he had no inconvenient wife to circumvent, and, best of all, he was nearly twenty years younger than Stephanos.

He gave a cold, sardonic smile. Demetria had known exactly what she was doing when she’d turned to him for help—she knew very well what his reputation with her sex was. It was something she usually vigorously berated him over, as it came between her and her hopes for him finally marrying and settling down—as she longed, with sisterly affection, for him to do.

Well, he hadn’t earned that reputation emptily—and now he could put it at his sister’s service.

As he swung out of the clinic and climbed into his low-slung car, occupying one of the guest parking spaces, Nikos’s face hardened.

Time to go and visit Miss Janine Fareham—a visit that he intended her to find quite, quite unforgettable. And one that would finish her affair with his brother-in-law once and for all.

CHAPTER ONE

JANINE eased herself over onto her stomach and sighed languorously, giving her body to the sun. In front of her the sunlight danced dazzlingly off the azure swimming pool. Beyond, slender cypresses pierced the cerulean sky.

The sound of children splashing and calling in the pool was the only noise. She felt the warmth of the sun like a blessing on her naked back.

The hotel was a haven of peace and luxury, brand-new, and Stephanos had shown it off to her with pride—the latest addition to his hotel empire.

A smile played around her lips.

Stephanos. It had been amazing, encountering him like that at Heathrow. He’d stopped dead, transfixed by her looks—and that had been it! He’d simply swept her off and taken her with him back to Greece. Her life would never be the same again.

A shadow flickered in her face. She just wished he could spend more time with her! Oh, he’d been completely honest with her, and she understood—of course she understood—that it was impossible for him to formally acknowledge her existence. All she could have of him would be snatched moments, all too brief. That was why he’d installed her here.

‘Even if I cannot be with you, my darling girl, I want you to have the very best I can give you!’ he had said to her.

She smiled fondly at the memory. Then the smile faded. His phone call last night, brief and hurried, as all his calls had to be, had not been good news. But she’d done her best to reassure him.

‘I shall be fine,’ she’d told him. ‘You mustn’t worry about me while you are in America.’

The trouble was, she thought ruefully, that Stephanos obviously did worry about her. His protectiveness was touching—he seemed so fearful that she would disappear from his life as unexpectedly as she had entered it. She smiled to herself again. He need have no fears. None at all. Nothing could part her from him now—she wanted to be part of his life for ever, however much of a secret it had to be.

She closed her eyes, letting the heat of the afternoon feed her drowsiness. For once she would enjoy this luxury beneath the golden sun.

So totally different from the life she usually led…

Nikos stood on the terrace, looking down over the pool. His eyes beneath the dark glasses were hard. So that was the girl, splayed out on a lounger. The girl who was wrecking his sister’s marriage.

He paused a moment in the dappled shade, where the grapes were already ripening to a rich purple, and gazed down at her.

Emotions warred within him. The first was bitter anger—anger that the creature down there had the power to make Demetria weep in his arms, filled with despair.

The second was quite different.

She was, quite simply, delectable.

He had a vast experience of women, but this one was, he could see, in the very top rank. Her face was turned sideways, eyes closed, lashes lying long against her cheek as she lay relaxed on the lounger, but he could see that it was breath-catchingly lovely. A long, sun-bleached mane of pale hair swept across the pillow of the lounger, gently wisping across her smooth forehead. As for her body—

His eyes swept on, down the exposed length of her. She was naked apart from a tiny bikini bottom that barely covered her softly rounded cheeks. Her bikini top had been unfastened so that its ties would not mar the tanned perfection of her back. She did not look to be particularly tall, but she was very slender, with the kind of natural grace that girls of her age and type had in abundance.

She was sun-kissed, soft-limbed and sexy.

Oh, yes. Very, very sexy.

He could see immediately why Stephanos had not been able to resist her.

But Stephanos was married and should have made himself resist her. He, Nikos, was hampered no such impediment. Indeed, quite the opposite. He had given his betrayed sister his word on that.

His mission was very clear. He would quite deliberately, quite calculatingly, seduce Janine Fareham away from Demetria’s husband.

Relief—no, more than relief eased through him. Satisfaction. Carrying out his mission would be no ordeal at all. In fact, he felt his body stir, and indulged it for a moment. It would be a positive pleasure.

For a brief while he let himself luxuriate in surveying her in all her enticing blonde beauty. Then, as he let his eyes feast on the nymph-like, softly rounded curves of her near naked body, as if a knife had come slicing down another image imposed itself, vivid and painful. His sister’s gaunt, strained face as she begged him to help her sprang in front of his eyes.

His eyes hardened and he began to walk forward.

In her half-dozing state it took a moment for Janine to register that she could hear footsteps. A second later a shadow fell over her. Her eyes flew open and she looked up.

A man was standing there, looking down at her. He was very tall and dark. A generation younger than Stephanos. Was it one of the hotel staff? What did he want?

‘Kyria Fareham?’ The voice was deep and accented. There was something about the tone that told her instinctively that this man was not a member of the hotel staff. This was a man who gave orders, not took them.

And he certainly didn’t look like a guest either. Guests were all casually dressed—but this man was wearing an immaculately cut lightweight business suit and looked as if he had just walked out of a board meeting. Her eyes travelled on up to his face.

She felt her heartbeat lurch.

Eyes veiled by dark glasses bored down on her, surveying her as she lay there displayed for him. Suddenly she was acutely conscious that she was almost naked—and he was dressed in a formal suit. The disparity made her feel vulnerable, exposed.

Instinctively she pushed herself up to a sitting position, taking the sarong she’d been lying on with her, swinging her feet down to the warm paving. Even then she felt at a disadvantage. He still towered over her. For a Greek—and his looks and accent told her he had to be—he was very tall: easily six feet.

She stood up, knotting her sarong hurriedly around her in a fluid movement.

As her eyes focused on him properly she felt her breath catch. Her lips parted soundlessly, eyes widening.

She was looking at the most devastating male she had ever seen in her life.

What nature had bestowed on him his obvious wealth had accentuated. The superbly tailored suit fitted him like a glove, and she could see it had most definitely not been an off-the-peg purchase. But the man wearing it did not look off-the-peg either. He looked, she assessed instantly, expensive. His dark hair was expertly cut, feathering very slightly across his wide brow, and the dark glasses he wore did not need to have the discreet designer logo on them for her to know they had not been purchased from a market stall.

His nose was strong, and straight, with deep lines curving from it to the edges of his mouth.

His mouth—

Sculpted. That was the only word for it. With a sensuous lower lip she had to drag her eyes from, forcing herself to gaze into the blankness of his shaded regard.

There was something about this man that was making her heart race—and it was not just because he’d all but woken her out of a sun-beaten slumber. She felt the world shift around her and resettle.

As if something had changed for ever.

Then a different emotion surfaced. She’d been too busy gaping at this fantastic-looking man to take on board that he seemed to know who she was.

‘Who wants to know?’ She countered his enquiry warily. If he wasn’t from the hotel who else knew she was here, except for Stephanos?

She pushed her hair back over her shoulders, feeling it tumbling warm and heavy down her back, and gazed at him, lips parted slightly.

Theos, thought Nikos, absorbing the sensuous gesture, she was perfect. Just perfect. The dream image of a sexy blonde.

But she wasn’t cheap or tarty. Nothing so resistible! She was beautiful—head-turningly so. In an instant Nikos’s expert eye took in the fact that she had one of those faces where every feature complemented every other, from her chestnut eyes, set in a heart-shaped face, to her generous mouth below a delicate nose. A golden tan gilded her flawless skin and her hair hung like pale spun gold down to her slender waist, faintly visible through the gauze of the turquoise sarong.

Desire flashed through him. Instant and insistent.

For a moment he felt consumed by it, overwhelmed. Then, with deliberate control, he subdued his reaction.

It was good that he desired her, it would make his task so much easier, but that was the only reason he should feel desire for her. It was a means to an end, that was all, and the end was the removal—permanently—of this girl from his brother-in-law’s marriage.

And to that end it was also necessary that this girl should be sexually vulnerable to him, Nikos. His eyes flickered over her again.

She was sexually aware of him all right. He knew the signs. Knew them well.

Beneath his regard Janine felt colour stealing out along her cheekbones. Heat flushing into her blood.

She could feel herself reacting to this man. She couldn’t stop herself. There was something about him that was more than his devastating looks, more than that potent aura of wealth, or even the potent frisson of the power that a man like this must surely wield in the world he moved in. There was a raw sexuality beneath that tailored suit, hidden in those veiled eyes. She felt it licking at her.

Making her want him.

The realisation shocked her.

How could she be responding so strongly to a man she’d just set eyes on—whose eyes she couldn’t even see yet? But she was, and she couldn’t stop it. She felt her breasts tighten, her pupils flare, the colour flood to her cheeks.