Latin Lovers: Greek Tycoons: Aristides' Convenient Wife / Bought: One Island, One Bride / The Lazaridis Marriage

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE SUDDEN CLICK of a door opening made Helen’s heart skip a beat and she looked warily across the room. Fury rippled through her as she saw Leon’s tall frame outlined in the opening and unconsciously she pulled the cover up higher.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded and silently cursed her choice of words as one dark brow arched eloquently in her direction. But defiantly she held his gaze as he walked towards her.

‘Now that is a leading question if ever I heard one,’ he drawled, and stopped by the side of the bed. ‘And one I am sure you can answer if you care to try,’ he prompted silkily.

Leon’s hard black eyes swept over his errant wife. He noted her scarlet face framed by the silken mass of her ashblonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, the prim cotton nightshirt skimming over her firm breasts, and he wanted to strangle her.

How dared the little witch try to defy him again? Last night he had taken her innocence with perhaps not as much finesse as he would have liked. But after the initial shock she had been with him all the way and later he could have sworn he had calmed any virginal fears that still lingered. He had the marks to prove it, so what the hell was her game? A cold, disdainful smile twisted his wide mouth. He had had more than enough with his first wife trying to tie him in knots with sex. He had soon disillusioned her and he was damned if he was going to let this one try the same tricks.

With each passing second Helen was conscious of the building tension. She could feel his barely leashed anger almost physically, but she refused to respond to his suggestive jibe. Instead she simply stared up at him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her conviction of moments ago that Leon would see reason taking a nosedive. And what had happened to the calls he was supposed to be making? He’d said hours and it was barely thirty minutes.

‘Nothing to say, Helen?’ His black eyes, cold and hard as stone, stared down into hers.

‘You said you were going to work,’ she snapped back and tried to ignore the trickle of fear snaking its way down her spine.

‘So I did, but Anna, while berating me on allowing my very new bride to go to bed on her own, also let slip that you had chosen a bedroom for a study.’ His hard mouth twisted in a derisive smile. ‘She is a trusting soul and I doubt it ever crossed her mind you would sleep in the room. But, surprise, surprise, I am nowhere near as trusting and decided to check.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh.’ His dark eyes mocked her ruthlessly. ‘Is that all you have to say for yourself?’

Helen swallowed down the nervous lump in her throat and said bravely, ‘I told you last night I was not sharing your room again.’

‘Why?’ he demanded with an arrogance that maddened her. ‘After last night there is not a part of your body that I don’t know intimately.’

It was true. But it did not help her precarious hold on her temper to be reminded and she dragged an angry breath into her oxygen-starved lungs. ‘You are disgusting,’ she spat, and tore her gaze away from his harshly attractive face.

Leon moved closer, his big body looming over her intimidatingly. His black shirt was pulled taut across his broad shoulders, the top three buttons were undone, revealing his black curling body hair. At least he had not undressed, she thought, a sudden shameful image of him naked flashing through her mind. ‘Go away.’ And she meant from her mind as much as the room. ‘Just go away.’

Without a word he reached down and wrenched the covers from her grasp.

‘Don’t you dare,’ she cried, grabbing the cover with her free hand before flinging the mug of cocoa straight at him.

The mug bounced off his chest, spreading hot chocolate all over him. She saw his head jerk back and she stared in absolute horror at what she had done. Usually she was the calmest, most even-tempered of women. She had never committed a violent act in her life. Oh, my God! She might have scalded him; a little higher, she could have scarred his face.

‘I’m sorry, so sorry,’ she said, her guilt ridden gaze fixed on his.

Leon’s face was as black as thunder, his dark eyes hard as jet.

‘You damn well will be.’

He swore and hauled her out of the bed, throwing her over his shoulder. She tried to struggle, suddenly very afraid, but he was far too powerful for her. He stormed straight into the bathroom and, dropping her to the floor, he locked the door behind him.

Dizzy from being held upside down, the blood pounding in her head, she took a moment to focus. When she did she saw he had removed his shirt and his chest hair was damp and sticky with cocoa.

‘I really am sorry.’ She tried to apologise, but she was too late.

He gave her a killing look. His arm clamped around her waist, and, kicking off his shoes, he herded her into the shower.

He turned on the water, and spun her around to face him. He grasped her hand and slapped the soap in her palm. ‘Now you are going to wash off every drop of your crazy handiwork,’ he hissed with a sibilant softness that was more frightening than his anger.

The water pounded down on her, and she stared at him wide-eyed and terrified. He was only inches away from her and she did not need her contact lenses to see every muscle and sinew in his great body was taut with rage. For once she thanked the Lord she was small. Her head barely reached his shoulders and she did not have to look at his hard, furious face. But her embarrassment was acute as the water plastered her shirt to her skin revealing every curve and hollow of her body.

‘What are you waiting for?’ His hands caught her wrist and lifted her hand to his chest. ‘Wash.’

She swallowed down the refusal that sprang to her lips, and began lathering his chest. The feel of his warm, wet skin beneath her palm, the hard musculature of his chest, were a sensual torture that made her heart race.

‘Use both hands. I am a big man,’ he ordered harshly.

She closed her eyes and, rubbing the soap between her palms, she splayed her hands on his chest and moved them in ever-widening circles. He felt so good and, appalled at where her thoughts were taking her she gasped.

‘There.’ Her eyes flying open, she moved back until the wall of the shower stopped her. ‘It is done.’

Drenched and battling to keep his rage under control, Leon stared furiously down at her. She was done when he said so. He caught the shimmer of sexual awareness in the darkening depths of her violet eyes. Saw her small, perfectly formed breasts peaking against the wet shirt and suddenly, from being rigid with fury at her wild action, he felt his body hardening with a totally different emotion.

‘Not yet, it isn’t,’ he told her. ‘Not to my satisfaction.’

Shedding his trousers, he reached for her and stripped the shirt from her body.

‘No,’ she tried to object.

But her denial was weak. Triumph surged though him along with a devilish desire to possess her so completely and utterly that she would never again try to defy him. Sliding an arm around her back he drew her against him.

‘Yes, Helen,’ he drawled and, taking her chin between his fingers and thumb, he forced her to look at him.

‘The chocolate flowed down my body. You need to wash lower,’ he commanded silkily, stroking a hand up her back before trailing down the indentation of her spine to finally curve her pert rear. For a moment he felt her slight resistance. He pressed her closer against his now throbbing arousal and felt her shudder in helpless response.

Wet, naked and held against his big body, Helen was vitally aware of the hard strength of him against her belly. She stared up at him and the mocking eyes that held hers gleamed with a molten sensuality that made her stomach somersault. With her whole body reacting treacherously to the sliding caress of his hand against her naked flesh, she could barely breathe. Desire lanced through her, weakening her resistance, still she tried to shake her head free from his hold. But his grip tightened on her chin.

‘Every action has a reaction. Remember that, Helen, and we will get along fine.’ He moved his hand from her chin to sweep the wet hair from her face.

‘But I’ll spare your blushes this time,’ he declared softly his dark eyes gleaming with an unholy light. Taking the soap from her unresisting hand he stroked it down his chest and lower between their bodies.

She was pressed against the impressive length of him, and the back of his hand trailing down her quivering stomach ignited a burning desire in her trembling body that shook her to the depths of her being. She did not want to feel this way about him. Then, turning his hand, he cupped her between her thighs and it was so shockingly intimate Helen couldn’t hold back a moan.

He gave a low laugh and proceeded to lather her there, everywhere. She closed her eyes as he explored and caressed her hot, wet flesh, all thought of resistance banished from her mind. She shuddered as his hand stroked back up over her stomach and on to massage the fullness of her breasts. When he had dropped the soap she had no idea. The water blinded her and her whole body pulsed with pleasure.

‘I am almost done,’ he said roughly. ‘You really do have the most delectable body.’

A helpless moan escaped her and she reached for his broad shoulders. His dark head bent and he urged her against the strong power of his thighs as his mouth took savage possession of hers. Her head was impelled back against the shower wall at the force of his kiss, but she didn’t notice as she shook with need and responded with a blind hunger of her own.

His tongue explored her mouth with a white-hot sexual force that drove her out of her mind. When he lifted her, his strong hands cupping her buttocks, she instinctively crossed her legs around his waist, frantic for him to fill her, possess her, wanting him with a passion that was almost pain.

He looked at her, his dark eyes glittering with a primitive pagan light as he thrust into her hard and deep.

She cried out, her body moving instinctively in the fast and furious rhythm he set. His mouth sought her breast and dragged hungrily on the straining nipple as he plunged harder and faster until she thought she would die from the pleasure. She dug her fingers in his neck. She felt her whole body lock in incredible tension, then shatter into excruciatingly exquisite spasms that went on and on. She dimly heard the animal growl as his great body bucked and shuddered violently, his seed spilling inside her as he joined her in an explosive climax. She buried her head in the curve of his neck as the seemingly endless tremors very slowly receded.

‘Helen, are you okay?’

Helen heard the question and lifted her head. He was watching her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, waiting for an answer, and suddenly she was terribly self-conscious. Wrapped around him like a clinging vine, she felt the reality of the situation hit her. But her own innate honesty would not let her deny her response to him, he only had to touch her and she melted like ice on a fire.

‘I’m fine,’ she murmured.

It was the answer Leon wanted and slowly he lowered her to her feet. He turned off the water and cupped her head in his hands and gently swept back the tangled mass of her hair from her face before placing a soft kiss on her lush lips.

‘Good. Me too,’ he admitted huskily. ‘So no more arguments about sharing my bed, hmm.’ He lifted her out of the shower and, taking a towel from the rail, he wrapped it around her back.

She was everything he remembered from the very first time he’d set eyes on her years ago. Her breasts were high and firm with perfect pink tips, her waist tiny, and now he knew she was a natural blonde. She was so much more than he had expected. From the very beginning he had sensed her awareness of him, known he could have her, but he had never imagined she would be so wildly responsive to him.

‘And no more flinging cups of chocolate.’ He knotted the towel between her breasts and stepped back. ‘I am not easy to anger, but I do have a temper,’ he admitted and, taking another towel, he wrapped it around his hips.

Helen gazed at him helplessly. He was so cool, so in control it was incredible, whereas she did not know herself any more, her emotions were all over the place. Honesty forced her to admit it was her temper that had started the confrontation and his temper that had got them in here. As for what had happened afterwards, it was as much her fault as his, she thought, glancing around the small, steamy room.

‘Oh, my God! I can’t believe I did that in a bathroom.’ Not realising she was speaking the thought out loud.

‘I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,’ Leon mocked, his lips parting in a broad grin, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement colliding with hers.

‘Hardly,’ she cried, shocked, but his humour and his grin were irresistible and her own lips quirked at the corners in a reciprocating smile. ‘I wasn’t thinking.’ And she was fast losing her mind again; Leon looking relaxed and happy was a seductive sight.

‘Let me do the thinking for both of us, and in future I think we should stick to our bedroom,’ he declared, swinging her up in his arms. ‘That way we will have a long and contented marriage.’

‘That is the most chauvinistic comment I have ever heard,’ Helen stated. ‘And will you stop sweeping me off my feet all the time? I can walk,’ she almost wailed.

Held in his arms she felt helpless and vulnerable and a whole host of emotions she did not want to face. So much for her vow never to let him touch her again.

‘I love the way you walk, but it is so much quicker carrying you to bed,’ he said with a wicked grin, carrying her out of the bathroom.

‘Please put me down. I need to pick up my clothes.’ She glanced around the room and began to struggle. ‘Anna will be horrified at the mess we have made.’

‘You worry too much,’ he mocked. ‘Anna won’t mind; she has plenty of staff to help her clean up.’

He glanced around the room, and paused. He had been too angry to notice the room when he had stormed in, his whole attention on the woman in the bed, but now he looked around. Some furniture was shoved against one wall, and an easel stood in front of the window with books, paints and other stuff littering the deep window sill.

‘You paint,’ he said in astonishment, and some memory niggled at the back of his mind. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I’m an illustrator,’ she snapped, wriggling in his arms. ‘I thought it was obvious. I told you my wedding dress was Nicholas’ choice. It was the same style as the one the fairy is wearing in the picture on his bedroom wall at home, the one I did for a children’s book. I am not the useless little woman you seem to think, and will you put me down?’

Leon’s eyes flared. Of course, the drawing in the boy’s room. He looked down into her flushed face with barely concealed amusement in his. That was why he had thought she looked familiar on their wedding day, her dress had been a replica of the one the fairy wore, he realised, though on Helen it had looked sexy, but, yes, a little fey.

‘I didn’t believe you when you said Nicholas had chosen your dress.’ He shook his head in wonder. His wife was a talented artist along with her more obvious talents. She never ceased to surprise him.

He tightened his hold on her and pressed a swift kiss on top of her head. ‘You and I need to talk. I want to know what other secrets you are keeping from me. But not here.’ He strode forward.

She glanced around the messy bedroom as he headed for the door and for some reason she felt as if she owed him an explanation. ‘I asked Anna for a room for a studio. She didn’t know I was going to sleep here.’

‘I am sure she didn’t,’ Leon drawled, striding into the hall. ‘Anna is a hopeless romantic and I see no reason to disillusion her.’ He glanced down at her flushed face. ‘Luckily you and I have no such illusions, correct?’

‘I am not sure I know what you mean,’ Helen murmured as he elbowed the door open into the master suite and gently lowered her to her feet, his hands loosely clasping her waist.

His dark eyes narrowed astutely on her guarded face. ‘Anna has romantic notions of love and marriage out of all proportion to reality. Probably because she has never married,’ he said cynically. ‘Take it from one who knows: what you and I have is so much better.’

‘And what exactly do we have?’ Helen asked, her heart sinking. The passionate lover of moments ago, the man who had awakened her body in a way she had never dreamt possible, was once again looking at her with cold, mocking eyes. And it crossed her mind to wonder why he was so hardhearted, or if he had a heart at all.

‘We have a child to care for, and we have this.’ As his mouth took hers in a kiss that left her lips tingling and her temper rising.

‘Sex,’ she spat.

‘Don’t be so quick to knock it, Helen. Great sex is a hell of a lot more than some so-called love matches ever achieve,’ he stated decisively.

‘And however much your conservative little mind wishes it was otherwise, the physical chemistry between us is dynamite.’

For her, yes, but for Leon she wasn’t so sure. He was a sophisticated, experienced lover and he had not got that way being celibate, she thought bitterly.

‘I have to take your word for that as I have no experience except you to draw on. According to Delia, not something the Aristides men ever suffer from much past puberty. They are noted for their obedient wives and countless mistresses,’ she drawled derisively.

‘Damn Delia,’ he swore. ‘She got an idea in her head and stuck with it to the end, just like our mother.’

‘Your mother?’ she queried, momentarily diverted from her seething resentment of the man.

His mouth twisted in a cold smile. ‘Your interest in my family has been long but flawed, sweetheart. Maybe it is time you heard the truth.’ Leading her to the bed, he sat down and pulled her down beside him, a long arm sliding around her waist to keep her there.

‘You and I need to have a talk to get a few things straight. As you said I was labouring under the illusion you did nothing except look after children, and now I know different. You’re an artist in your own right. Tomorrow a proper studio will be provided for you. But by the same token your concept of me is totally coloured by Delia’s opinions of her family and not necessarily true.’

‘Says you,’ she snorted.

He ignored her jibe and continued, ‘Contrary to what you think, my father never blamed Delia for our mother’s suicide. If anyone was to blame it was probably me.’

‘You?’ His statement surprised and intrigued her.

‘Yes. After I was born she had a mental breakdown.’ A wry smile twisted his hard mouth at her shocked expression. ‘She was in and out of hospital for years. Why do you think there was a fifteen-year gap between Delia and I?’

Not waiting for her response he continued. ‘My father worshipped her. At that time postnatal depression was a relatively new concept and was suggested by the top consultant my father had hired to treat her. My father believed the diagnosis and was determined not to get her pregnant again, although later the consultant diagnosed bipolar disorder as well.’ He threw out his hands. ‘But mistakes happen. As for him having a mistress—he never looked at another woman until long after mother had died.’

‘But Delia…’ she began, and stopped as she realised Anna’s comment earlier today that his mother never cared for him gave credence to Leon’s explanation. And it went a long way to explain his hard, emotionless attitude towards women. It was hardly surprising for a young boy who was never shown love by his mother to grow up not believing in the concept.

‘Listen for a moment,’ Leon said curtly. ‘Hard as it is for me to admit, with hindsight I think maybe Delia was heading for the same problem.’

‘You really think that?’ Helen exclaimed.

‘Yes.’ He nodded with a grim look about his firm mouth. ‘Did it never occur to you that Delia gave her baby into your care remarkably easily? And from what I can gather she wasn’t around very much.’

‘No, certainly not,’ Helen shot back. She didn’t want to think Delia could have been wrong in her assessment of her own family, because if she did it made her own actions indefensible. ‘She asked me to care for Nicholas before he was born. She told me—’

‘I know what she told you,’ he cut her off. ‘And you’re probably right—forget I said anything and let’s get back to us.’

For Leon to agree with her was a shock to her system, and paradoxically not one she could fully accept, but what happened next was an even bigger shock.

He placed his hand on her cheek and tilted her head towards him. ‘As for me—’ his dark eyes locked on hers with piercing intensity ‘—I am older than you, and naturally there have been a number of women in my life. But I can assure you I have always been monogamous for as long as a relationship lasted, and I was never unfaithful to my wife as long as she was faithful to me.’

‘I see,’ Helen murmured, quietened by the thought of his first wife. Tina had been very beautiful and had died tragically along with her baby. Maybe that was another reason why Leon did not believe in love any more. Because maybe, contrary to what Helen had been led to believe, he had loved Tina and she had been cruelly taken from him.

‘Do you, I wonder?’ He raised his black brows over his deep-set dark eyes and caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissing the gold band on her finger. ‘Ours may have been a convenient marriage, Helen, but there is no reason why it can’t be mutually beneficial. You and I have a lot more in common than you seem to think.’

That she didn’t believe. ‘You are joking—a wealthy world banker and a stay-at-home illustrator. I don’t see the connection somehow,’ she observed dryly.

‘We both adore Nicholas and want what is best for him—agreed?’ She nodded her head. ‘We both do work we enjoy?’ She nodded again. ‘The sex is great, and so long as you remember I am the only man you are going to sleep with there should be no problem.’

‘What about you?’ Helen shot back. ‘You as good as told me you could not count the number of women you have known and in true chauvinist fashion you have the nerve to demand my fidelity.’

‘Yes, absolutely.’ He looked at her with amusement and something else in his black eyes. ‘But you can demand the same from me, and I will happily comply.’

His firm lips quirked at the corners and he smiled down at her. ‘Is that what you want?’

Twenty-four hours ago she would have told him she didn’t give a damn what or who he did. But now, with his hand still clasping hers, and held in the strong, protective curve of his arm with the warmth of his naked thigh pressed against her own, she knew it would be a lie.

She did care. Because right or wrong she wanted him, and the very thought of him taking another woman to his bed made her sick to her stomach.

‘Yes, fidelity cuts both ways,’ she said flatly and, determined not to let him know she cared, she qualified her response sanctimoniously with, ‘We need to set a good example for Nicholas.’

‘You’re right, of course. I bow to your superior wisdom,’ he drawled with mock solemnity.

‘Very funny.’ She tried to pull her hand from his but he tightened his grip.

‘I am deadly serious, Helen. I am a hundred per cent in favour of a mutually exclusive relationship. I don’t need any other woman with you in my bed. So let’s call a truce. You stop resenting the fact that you enjoy sex. Relax and stop trying to fight me. And I will stop, what was it you said?’ He grinned. ‘I will stop sweeping you off your feet all the time. Agreed?’

His dark eyes smiled confidently into hers. The conceited devil knew he only had to look at her to figuratively sweep her off her feet, never mind physically, she thought wryly, but she could not help smiling at his audacious deal, and nodded her head in agreement.