Abruptly, another emotion stabbed into her. One that was shocking, unforgivable—shameless!
Never to see Nikos again—
Instantly, viciously, she slammed down on the emotion, crushing it brutally, punishingly. How could she stoop so low? How could she? And how could a man who thought her the lowest of the low, who had said such cruel, vile things about her sister, a man she had hated for four long years, have possibly made love to her the way he had?
Her face hardened. Made love? Was she stupid or something? Nikos Theakis hadn’t ‘made love’ to her! He’d had sex with her! That was all he’d done—all he’d wanted. Bitter humiliation seared through her. Oh, how could she have fallen into bed with him like that? Just because he looked like a Greek god. Just because she felt weak at the knees because he was so devastating a male that any woman, every woman, would turn and stare at him and yearn for him to look their way…
Anguished, hating herself almost as much as she hated Nikos Theakis, Ann went on staring at the ceiling, counting the hours till she could escape from Sospiris. Escape from Nikos.
But what had seemed imperative as she lay sleepless and tormented on her bed became far, far more difficult when she had to face Mrs Theakis at breakfast.
‘Leave us?’ Sophia Theakis’ eyes widened in surprise. ‘Surely not?’ Her gaze shifted as the doors to the morning room opened. ‘Nikos! Ann is saying that she may have to return to London.’
Ann felt herself freeze. Not for all the power on earth would she turn her head to see Nikos stalk in. But nothing could stop her hearing his deep voiced reply as he took his place. ‘Out of the question. It was agreed that she would stay until after Tina’s wedding so that Ari would be least unsettled. Is that not so, Ann?’
Her head swivelled. And immediately, fight it as she might, she felt colour stain vividly across her cheekbones at the sight of him. He was casually dressed in a pale cream polo shirt with a discreetly expensive logo on it, hair still damp and jaw freshly shaved. At once, vivid and hot, sprang the memory of his roughened skin against her last night as his mouth possessed hers… Her colour deepened.
His eyes were holding hers, challenging them—branding them.
She bit her lip, and saw something flare deep within. ‘I—I—’ she began, then floundered. Rational thought, speech, was impossible. ‘It’s just that—’ she tried again, and failed.
Another expression shot through Nikos’s eyes. She could have sworn it was satisfaction.
‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then that is settled. You will stay, as agreed, until after Tina’s wedding. And then…’ His eyes flicked to her momentarily, as his hand reached for the jug of freshly squeezed orange juice in front of him. ‘Then we shall see. Who knows, Ann, what will happen after Tina’s wedding, hmm? In the meantime today, with Ari occupied with his playmate from Maxos arriving with Tina later this morning, it is more than time, I think, that I showed you something more of Sospiris than you have already seen.’
Calmly, he started to drink his orange juice. Numbly, Ann turned back to Mrs Theakis, as though she might somehow save her from so dire a fate. But as she turned she caught for a fleeting moment a strange, assessing look in the older woman’s eyes, as they hovered between her guest and her son. Then an instant later it was gone, and Ann could only think—only hope!—she had imagined it.
Sophia Theakis’ expression had changed to a serene smile. ‘That is a lovely idea, Nikos. Sospiris has many hidden beauties, Ann,’ she said benignly, ‘and I’m sure my son will show you all of them.’
With monumental effort, Ann schooled her face into complaisance. Inside, she felt like jelly.
Nikos gunned the Jeep impatiently. Where was she? If she was planning on trying to get out of this, he would simply go and fetch her. But she would come. His mother would see to it.
For a moment his expression wavered. It was not comfortable, being under the eye of his mother in these circumstances. But it was for her sake that he was doing this—even though, of course, she could not know that. But for her to be burdened indefinitely, leached off by the female she thought so well of just because he could not open her eyes to Ann Turner’s true character, was not something he was prepared to tolerate. What he was prepared to tolerate, however, was his own disapproval of the course of action he had decided to pursue—a course of action that he’d already taken a decision on as he’d walked back into the bedroom the night before.
To hell with it! To hell with warnings about playing with fire—it was too damn late for that. He’d not just played with fire—he’d set the bed ablaze! And it, and he, had gone up in a sheet of flame. So any warnings, any regrets, were too little, too late. If there was one thing that was now absolutely clear—had become forcibly even more crystal-clear when he’d seen his empty bed and realised that Ann had run away—it was that he was counting the hours until he could possess her again.
The remainder of his night had been a sleepless one, but not because he had been repining his seduction any more—it had been because his bed was empty, and he very definitely did not want it to be empty. He’d almost gone after her. Why she had done a runner he had no idea—unless it was to see whether he would come chasing after her. Or—a sudden frown had knitted his brow darkly—was she belatedly, seeking to assume a virtue she had just very amply demonstrated she did not have?
He brushed the thought aside. Of course Ann Turner possessed not a shred of virtue! How could she, when she had sold her own flesh and blood for cold hard cash? For a fleeting moment something jarred in his brain. The vivid memory of their union burned again in his mind. Could the woman who had so inflamed him, with whom he had cried out at the searing moment of their fulfilment—a fulfilment deeper and more intense than any he had experienced—really be the same woman whose grasping fingers had greedily closed over the cheques he had so contemptuously handed her?
And yet she was. She was that same woman. However much she inflamed him he must never forget that—not for a moment.
Certainly not now, as she finally emerged from the villa, her face set, not meeting his eyes, simply clambering up into the Jeep without a word, ignoring his hand reaching across the seat to help her in. Angry irritation flared briefly in Nikos at her obvious intention of refusing to acknowledge him. He released the handbrake, let in the clutch and sheered off, his eyes behind the sunglasses hard. He drove fast, not bothering to take the bumpy track easily, and was conscious that Ann was hanging on grimly, refusing to ask him to slow down.
He didn’t stop until he slewed the Jeep to a halt at the far end of the island, down by Ari’s ‘secret beach’. He’d brought Ann here deliberately. Not only would they not be disturbed, but the beach hut was ideal for his purposes. It was not luxurious, but it contained the essentials—mainly a bed.
As he cut the engine, tossing his dark glasses on to the dashboard, a silence seemed to descend along with the settling cloud of white dust around the car.
He turned towards Ann. She was still sitting with one hand clutched at the doorframe, the other planted on the dash to steady herself. Her expression was stony. She was wearing, Nikos realised, exactly the same outfit she’d worn when they’d brought Ari here—beige cotton trousers and a long- sleeved T-shirt. His eyes glinted mordantly. Did she think such a drab outfit would put him off? And why, pray, the cold shoulder? The glint came again, and there was a spark of anger in it now. ‘Cold’ had not been the word for her last night.
Time to stop this, right now.
‘Ann,’ he began, his voice edged, ‘I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but—’
Her head swivelled. The expression in her eyes was scorching.
‘Playing at?’ she threw back at him. ‘I’m not playing at anything! I have absolutely no idea what the hell you think you’re doing, but—’