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. Apparen
tly 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.