The Greek's Blackmailed Wife

Sarah Morgan is a rising star of Harlequin Presents®, and we hope that you’ll enjoy her passionately intense and dramatic stories, too….

Praise for Sarah Morgan:

“Sarah Morgan [creates] a dynamic and intense read.”

—Romantic Times

“Sarah Morgan’s likeable characters will draw you in…”

—www.romantictimes.com

Harlequin Presents®

They’re the men who have everything—except a bride…

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 it’s time to meet the irresistible Zander Volakis in Sarah Morgan’s

The Greek’s Blackmailed Wife

This tycoon has decided it’s time to reclaim his wife…whatever it takes!

To the real Lauranne, KLY, for being brilliant in every way. XXX

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

THE atmosphere in the boardroom crackled with tension, all eyes fixed on the man at the head of the table.

Zander Volakis, Greek billionaire and the object of a million women’s fantasies, lounged in his chair with careless ease, the deadly glitter in his eyes the only indication that he’d even heard the heated discussion that had just taken place.

Broad-shouldered and impossibly handsome, his hard jaw was darkened with the beginnings of stubble, evidence of the punishing hours he’d been working to secure this deal.

Waiting for him to deliver his verdict, the men in the room watched him with a mixture of awe and envy while the two women on his board experienced entirely different emotions.

Finally, after what seemed like a million hours to the others, he drew breath.

‘I want that island.’ His tone deceptively mild, he raked the tense faces of the men and women around the table with night-black eyes. ‘So we look for another solution.’

‘There is no solution,’ someone said bravely. ‘People have been trying to buy that island from Theo Kouropoulos for twenty-six years. The guy won’t sell.’

Zander sat totally still, his expression veiled by lashes indecently long and thick. ‘He’s going to sell.’

The board members exchanged furtive glances, each one wondering how to perform the expected miracle.

In the end it was the lawyer who spoke. ‘He might sell—’ he licked dry lips, fingering the papers in front of him ‘—if we could change your image.’

The tension around the table increased.

Zander surveyed him steadily, a ghost of a smile playing around his hard mouth. ‘My image?’

His lawyer gave a nervous smile. ‘Think about who you’re dealing with. Theo Kouropoulos has been married to the same woman for fifty years. They have six children and fourteen grandchildren. Family values are high on his agenda and Blue Cove Island is a family resort. As things stand, he doesn’t think you’re the right buyer.’ He drew breath and sat up straighter, bracing himself. ‘To quote him exactly, you’re “an ice-cold, ruthless businessman with a wicked reputation for womanising and no commitment to family life.”’

Zander didn’t shift in his seat, the casual lift of a dark eyebrow a clear indication that he failed to see the relevance of his reputation. ‘And?’

Alec exchanged a helpless glance with the finance director. ‘And the bottom line is that he doesn’t want to sell you his family resort. You’re the acknowledged leader in creating hotel complexes for singles and couples. You understand what they need for a great holiday. Blue Cove Island is different and it’s not like anything you’ve done before.’

‘You argue his case very convincingly,’ Zander said smoothly, toying with the pen in front of him. ‘Are you working for him or for me?’

Sensitive to the deadly tone behind the softly spoken words, the lawyer flushed but carried on bravely. ‘The bottom line is that if you want that island, you need to change your image.’ He looked nervously at Zander. ‘Or you could think about acquiring a wife.’

An appalled, fascinated silence spread across the spacious glass-walled room. The floor-to-ceiling windows afforded breathtaking views over the heat-soaked, traffic-clogged city of Athens, but no one was looking at the view.

They were all looking at Zander, their gazes uniformly frozen in horrified anticipation as they waited for his reaction.

‘I will not,’ he declared silkily, ‘be acquiring a wife.’

Nervous laughter followed this announcement and Alec cleared his throat again.

‘Right. Well, in that case I suggest you see this company I’ve found.’ He shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk. ‘They’re in London, but you’re flying there on business tomorrow for two weeks so we can easily fit a meeting into your schedule. They specialise in public image. Their results are outstanding and they’re discreet. I think you should at least talk to them.’

Zander studied him silently, battling with the intense and unwelcome emotions that had been stirred up at the mere mention of matrimony. He had buried those feelings deeply in the darkest corners of his soul and their sudden emergence, as new and fresh as ever, came as an unwelcome shock.

A wife was most certainly not a viable solution to his current problem.

Which left the option of changing his image.

He gritted his teeth. The prospect filled him with no small degree of impatience. He’d never cared about other people’s opinions. Until now. When his reputation was jeopardising the purchase of Blue Cove Island.

Nothing in his expression revealed just how important this deal was to him.

He wanted that island.

He’d wanted it for twenty-six years but he’d been biding his time, waiting for the right moment.

And that moment was now.

‘All right.’ He stood up with all the grace of a lethal jungle animal, his movements remarkably smooth for such a powerfully built man. ‘Let’s change my image.’

‘So we really know nothing about them? Not even the name of the company?’

Lauranne O’Neill flicked through some slides on her computer, checking her presentation one more time.

‘Nothing. They were very cagey.’ Mary, her PA, shot her an apologetic look and then cast her eyes over the meeting room one more time. ‘Intriguing, isn’t it? Maybe they’re royalty. The guy I spoke to just said that they wanted to talk to us and that it was highly confidential.’

Lauranne gave a wry smile. ‘So confidential that they can’t even tell us the company name?’

‘I don’t care what they’re called as long as they pay good money.’ Tom, her business partner, strode into the room briskly, a pile of corporate brochures under his arm in readiness. ‘They’re on their way up. Amanda just went to collect them from Reception.’

Lauranne looked at him with amusement. ‘Do you ever think about anything except the bottom line, Tom?’

‘No.’ He slapped the pile of reports on the table. ‘And that’s what keeps this company so healthy. You’re the conscience—I’m the cash register.’

Lauranne laughed and she was still smiling when Amanda, one of their junior executives, came into the room, her face bright with excitement.

Obviously the client was someone well known and very rich if Amanda’s reaction was anything to go by, Lauranne reflected wryly as she smoothed her silk skirt over her slim thighs and pinned a polite smile on her face.

It was a smile that turned to a shocked gasp as she caught her first glimpse of her prospective client.

Zander Volakis.

Staggeringly handsome and arrogantly male, he strolled into the room as if he owned it, closely followed by a team of suited men all keeping a respectful distance behind the boss.

Lauranne stood, welded to the spot, her body frozen. For a moment she thought she might have lost her ability to feel. And then her past exploded into her present and the pain shot through her. Intense, dark pain that should have lessened with time but instead seemed more acute than ever. Pain that ripped away the layers of protection she’d carefully built between her and the world. Pain that had been buried deep for five, long years.

She stared into that cold, handsome face and felt her insides lurch.

He hadn’t changed at all.

He was still impossibly good-looking and unashamedly Greek. Sleek dark hair swept back from a smooth, tanned brow, a straight, aristocratic nose, a hard jaw that was almost permanently darkened by stubble and a physique so powerfully masculine that it made women drool.

Intercepting her stunned gaze, those brilliant dark eyes lasered onto hers with all the lethal accuracy of a deadly weapon.

A shiver ran through her trembling body as she read the challenge in that dark gaze.

Zander the hunter.

Pursuing his prey with the same single-minded ruthlessness that he used to outmanoeuvre his competitors. This was a man who had never encountered failure. A man who took millions and turned them into billions.

A man who didn’t know the meaning of the word no.

But he was going to have to learn it, she told herself. Because there was absolutely no way she was ever saying yes to this man again.

And there was no way she would give him the satisfaction of seeing just how strongly he affected her.

She lifted her chin and returned his gaze full on. ‘Go to hell, Zander.’

There was an audible gasp from the team of people with him but Zander didn’t flinch, tension emanating from every inch of his powerful frame as he surveyed her with glittering dark eyes.

‘Are you going to make this personal?’

She lifted a hand to her throat, feeling her pulse pounding under the tips of her fingers. ‘You bet I am. How can it not be personal?’ After everything that had happened between them, how could it not be personal? ‘You have the sensitivity of an atomic bomb,’ she said hoarsely and their gazes locked in combat, neither of them even remotely aware of their audience.

Mary gave a tiny whimper of shock and exchanged horrified glances with Tom, who stood white-faced and silent in one corner of the room.

One of the men with Zander stepped forward, eyeing the two of them cautiously. ‘Miss O’Neill? I’m Alec Trevelyan. I’m a lawyer.’ The man tried a smile and then gave up, visibly discomforted by the scene playing out around him. ‘I work for Volakis Industries.’

‘Then I hope you keep your c.v. up to date,’ Lauranne said caustically, not even glancing in his direction, ‘because working for Volakis Industries is an extremely precarious form of employment.’

The lawyer, mystified and deprived of speech, looked at his boss for some sort of enlightenment. He didn’t receive any. Zander Volakis continued to stare at the woman in front of him, nothing in his handsome face giving the slightest clue as to his thoughts.

The lawyer turned back to Lauranne, a pained expression on his face. It was clear he’d never had to deal with this sort of reception before.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘You do realise who—?’ He gestured to Zander, everything about his body language respectful to the point of being reverential. ‘I mean—Zander is—’

‘I know exactly who he is,’ Lauranne said clearly, her wide blue eyes fixed on that breathtakingly handsome face in blatant challenge. ‘He’s the bastard who tried to ruin my life.’ She paused, her breathing as rapid as her heart rate. ‘He’s also my husband.’

She heard the collective gasp of shock and felt a shaft of pain. The knowledge that he hadn’t told them, that he hadn’t even admitted his marriage to her, wounded her so badly that she wanted to curl up in the corner of the room and hide.

And that was exactly what she’d been doing for the past five years, of course.

Hiding.

Hiding from her past. Hiding from her marriage. Hiding from her feelings.

She lifted her chin, pride giving her strength. ‘Did you forget to mention that?’ Her eyes were still fixed on Zander, sparking fire and flame. ‘How remiss of you. If you wanted it kept a secret then you picked the wrong woman. I’m not prepared to be anyone’s dark secret.’

Something flashed in those molten dark eyes. For a fleeting moment she thought it might be admiration but then she shook herself. Zander didn’t admire the sort of woman she was. He liked meek, obedient women who played the game and she’d never played the game.

She didn’t do meek, and she didn’t do obedient either.

Alec slid a finger inside his collar, sweat visible on his brow. ‘Well, obviously this—er— I mean we didn’t— Miss O’Neill— I mean Mrs Volakis—’ He broke off and glanced nervously at his boss, waiting for some sort of reaction.

But Zander didn’t speak.

He just watched her.

Using silence as the ultimate weapon. Letting everyone else around him sweat, Lauranne thought grimly.

She clenched her teeth but she didn’t drop her gaze. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She knew his tricks. Knew just how skilled he was at manipulating his opponent. If he thought he could intimidate her, then he’d misjudged her.

But then misjudging her was an art that he’d perfected.

‘Why are you here?’ Her breathing laboured, Lauranne straightened her slim shoulders and at that point Tom cleared his throat and stepped forward.

‘This is obviously a mistake. We should just cancel this meeting—’

Still on the receiving end of Zander’s cold stare, Lauranne saw the instant change in him. Saw the lethal flash of white-hot anger as he registered Tom’s voice. The stillness in that athletic frame fell away to be replaced by a tension so powerful that she took an instinctive step backwards. Connected as she was to that dark, molten gaze, she felt his mood shift from restrained to furious with staggering speed. It was like staring into the crater of a volcano on the very brink of eruption.

He dragged his gaze away from hers and fixed his attention on Tom, his fabulous eyes glittering dangerously, anger visible in every angle of his powerful body.

Transported back five years, Lauranne sucked in a breath.

With the shockingly expensive designer suit and the Rolex watch on his wrist, Zander might look every inch the civilised businessman, but she knew that he was anything but civilised. Behind the trappings of success that he wore with such effortless style lurked a male so basic and primitive in his perspective on life that a loincloth would have been more appropriate dress.

‘Zander, no—!’

Suddenly she was the one trying to calm things and instinctively she stepped in front of Tom.

‘Still protecting him, Lauranne?’ Zander’s eyes flashed dark, his voice thickened with anger as he whirled on his unsuspecting employees. ‘Get out. All of you get out.’

The rest of his team stared at him in blatant shock, horrified and fascinated by this unusual display of emotion from a man renowned for his self-control.

Alec cleared his throat, his consternation evident. ‘Zander, maybe we should—’

‘I want to talk to my wife,’ Zander growled, turning back to Lauranne. His gaze slammed into hers with the force of a missile. ‘Get rid of Farrer.’

His own team made their retreat so hastily that if the situation hadn’t been so serious she would have laughed at how pathetic they were.

But the situation was serious, and she wasn’t laughing.

Her heart hammering against her chest, Lauranne swallowed and turned to Tom, desperate to defuse a highly charged situation.

‘Go,’ she urged, her slim fingers closing over the back of a chair for support. Her legs were shaking and her palms were clammy. ‘Just go! And you too, Amanda.’

Tom hesitated, both eyes fixed warily on Zander. ‘I’m not leaving you with him.’

She saw Zander’s shoulders tense, saw naked male jealousy and something deeper and far, far more dangerous.

‘Tom—’

Evidently sensing that danger himself, Tom hurried to the door, following in the wake of Zander’s stunned employees.

‘Just remember, Lauranne.’ Tom stopped by the door, keeping one eye on Zander as if he were a dangerous animal who might attack at any moment. ‘Remember what he did.’

Zander braced his muscular shoulders. ‘You’re extremely brave with one hand on the door handle, Farrer.’ His tone was lethally soft and Lauranne watched with dismay as the colour drained from Tom’s face at the barely veiled threat.

Feeling the tension in the room rise to critical levels, she felt an uncontrollable surge of panic, remembering what had happened last time these two men had confronted each other. And she’d been the cause of the confrontation. It was her fault that Zander hated Tom. She was totally to blame and she’d lived with the guilt ever since—

‘Stop it!’ Her voice shook and her breath came in unreliable pants. ‘Stop it, the pair of you!’ Still gripping the chair, her knuckles white, Lauranne glared first at Zander and then at Tom. ‘Go! For goodness sake, please go! Can’t you see that you’re just making things worse?’

With a final scowl at Zander, Tom slid out of the room and suddenly they were left alone.

Zander went straight into attack mode, his eyes fierce and his mouth tight with restrained emotion as he launched his first missile. ‘You went into business with him? With Farrer?’

Suddenly she was glad there was a table between them. It prevented her from hurling herself at him and committing bodily harm.

‘Yes!’ With Tom safely out of the room, she wanted to rub it in. Wanted to poke a stick at the tiger and see just how long it took for him to stop snarling and goad him into action. It was a dangerous game but she couldn’t help herself. What right did he have to question her? To stand there with that contemptuous look on his disgustingly handsome face. ‘Yes, I did. I went into business with him. Tom was good to me.’ She spat the words out and Zander gave a growl and faced her across the table.

‘I know exactly how good he was to you, Lauranne,’ he growled savagely, his voice thick with anger. ‘I witnessed it firsthand.’

Her grip tightened on the chair and her breathing jerked. ‘We’re not going there, Zander. It was five years ago. If you’d wanted to talk we should have done it then but you threw me out. I refuse to discuss it with you now.’

‘There was nothing to talk about,’ he growled, livid streaks of colour emphasising his intensely masculine bone structure. ‘When a Greek man finds his wife in bed with another man, the talking stops.’

He swore in Greek and paced over to the window while Lauranne watched in appalled fascination. She’d never been able to understand how Zander Volakis had gained his reputation for being ice-cold. With her he was so volatile and explosive that he could legitimately be held personally responsible for global warming.

‘What are you doing here?’ Without the protection of the table between them, Lauranne eyed him with healthy caution, all her senses primed for flight. ‘Why have you come here now? It’s been five years—’

Five years during which she had tried to come to terms with their brief and totally disastrous marriage. Five years of trying to put each shattered piece of her life back together, hoping that the glue would hold.

Zander didn’t turn and her eyes fixed on the back of his neck, on the dark hair that just touched his collar. His hair had always fascinated her. It was the only thing about him that was soft and she knew exactly how it would feel under her fingers. Silky. Tempting. So many times she’d slid her hands into that hair, holding his head while he kissed her to the point of meltdown.

Determined not to dwell on his considerable skills in that direction, she dragged her mind back to the present. ‘Why did you pick this company?’

He turned then, all forceful virile male, dominating her meeting room with the sheer force of his presence and personality.

‘I didn’t.’

She gave a humourless laugh as his words registered. ‘You didn’t know it was me, did you? One of your poor, unsuspecting minions recommended my company and you didn’t know it was me—’

‘But I should have guessed from the name.’ He gave a sardonic smile. ‘Phoenix PR. Rising from the ashes, Lauranne?’

She glared at him, her cheeks flushed with colour. ‘And you created those ashes, Zander,’ she reminded him hoarsely, her chest rising and falling as she sucked in air. ‘You fired me and made sure I wouldn’t get another job. You ruined my reputation.’

And he’d trampled on her heart into the bargain but she had too much pride to raise that with him. He’d proved that he didn’t care about her and she was damned if she was even going to hint at how much she’d cared about him. He was a heartless bastard and she should have had more sense than to become involved with him in the first place.

‘Evidently not.’ His gaze was ironic as he glanced round the smart meeting room. ‘You’ve done well for yourself.’

It was typical of Zander to judge someone by their business success, she reflected bitterly. Professionally she had done well, but as for the other areas of her life—

She wondered what he’d say if he knew that she hadn’t been on a date for five years. That every evening she worked until she was exhausted and then just went home and fell into bed. That she was afraid to slow down in case her emotions caught up with her. In case she suddenly started to feel.

Emotionally numb and physically exhausted was the only way she could safely exist.

But Zander wasn’t interested in emotion. He just didn’t do emotion.

He’d deleted their brief marriage from his memory with the same ruthless efficiency with which he organised the rest of his life.

Lauranne lifted her chin. Thanks to him, she’d learned not to do emotion either. If he wanted to talk business, then they’d talk business. ‘The business is a success thanks to Tom. He financed this business with his own money. He took me on when no other company would touch me.’ Her voice shook as she reminded him of the facts. ‘If it hadn’t been for him I would have had no way of earning a living.’

He rounded on her with a ferocious growl. ‘Don’t mention his name in my hearing.’

She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. ‘Give me one reason why not.’

His eyes flashed fire and flame. ‘Because you were mine,’ he said thickly, his tone pure masculine possession. ‘Mine. And Farrer did what no other man would have dared to do. Only ignorance could have prompted him into such a foolish and risky course of action.’

Her heart was thudding so hard she thought it must be visible to him. ‘He didn’t know what sort of man you are.’

‘I’m Greek,’ he announced flatly. ‘And Greek men know how to take care of their women.’

She needed no reminder of his heritage. It was part of who he was, visible in everything he did and everything he said.

‘Your relationship with women is stuck in the Stone Age. If Versace made loincloths you’d be wearing one.’

‘I didn’t notice you complaining when you were naked under me.’ His voice was a rich, masculine drawl and she felt it curl its way around every part of her damaged and fragile heart. The vision of lying naked with him was all too clear and she felt an unwelcome coil of heat low in her pelvis.