His Mistress by Blackmail Page 9

  Thee mou, she tasted unbelievable. He’d meant this to be a lesson, but it was fast turning into something else. Something like a mini feast that promised a banquet, the likes of which he’d never known.

  He’d made his point. He needed to stop. But...not yet. Just a little more. He pressed his mouth harder over hers, gliding his tongue across her bottom lip again. A tiny groan escaped her.

  And then she froze. A second later she was pushing at him, attempting to place distance between them. His fingers convulsed in her hair for a charged second. Then he stepped back.

  ‘Point made, I think.’ He sounded as if he’d swallowed a shovelful of gravel. And the pressure behind his fly wasn’t lessened when she raised her hand and pressed her fingers against the mouth he’d just tasted. Again there was an innocence in the gesture that threatened to flay him. Especially when he got the impression she wasn’t even aware of what she was doing.

  ‘What point?’ she muttered. ‘And...how would Ben even know any of this?’

  He allowed himself a tense smile. ‘He’ll know.’

  Her head tilted and she dropped her hand. ‘Let me guess—another of your contingencies?’ she whispered.

  He told himself he needed to get on with more important things. And yet he couldn’t move. ‘It’s best if you don’t know every small detail.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I want your reactions to be natural, organic. Anything less than that and he’ll guess it’s a ruse.’

  She stepped to the side, removing herself from his reach. Xandro balled his hands to stop himself from seizing her once more. She walked further into the living room and dropped her purse on the nearest sofa. ‘This is insane.’

  He held up his hand to pre-empt her. ‘No. This is the most time-efficient way to bring things to a satisfactory end for both of us.’

  ‘Surely you can’t expect me to...perform at the drop of a hat?’

  His gaze rested on her mouth. Her slightly swollen, infinitely kissable mouth. ‘I’ve just kissed you and your response was...acceptable. Besides, isn’t playacting what you do when you dance?’

  Her tongue darted over her lower lip and he suppressed a groan. ‘That’s different.’

  He turned away before the urge to touch her again grew too hard to handle. ‘I’m confident you’ll adapt. I have to go out now. There’s a private butler who services my suite. He’ll be here in a minute to show you to your room. If you need anything after that, his number is on the phone.’

  She blinked then looked around her, as if noticing for the first time exactly where she was.

  Since this penthouse suite was his own space, he’d added paintings and art from his private collection, one of which was a Cycladic tapestry sourced from a small village artist in Skiathos. It depicted a red-haired female form reclining on a sandy beach, her gaze riveted on an orange sunset. He had priceless pieces in his homes and hotels all around the world, but this was one of his favourites.

  Which was probably why he paused to watch her inspect the painting instead of heading downstairs to the meeting he risked being late for.

  ‘Oh...that’s beautiful,’ she murmured.

  Xandro didn’t know he was holding his breath until he exhaled. He needed to leave rather than stand there, comparing her russet hair to the woman’s in the painting, and suddenly finding the painting wanting. He needed to go before the urge to taste her again grew too much to resist.

  After several moments her gaze, like that of most people who found themselves with this aerial view of the city, turned towards the imposing beauty of the Acropolis. Again she gasped, her feet moving towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that took up an entire wall.

  He took a beat to see it through her eyes, and felt a wonder and pride in his motherland. But on its heels the bitterness that was never far away when he returned to Greece rose to poison the waters of his pride. Somewhere in this city was the man whose blood ran through his veins. The father whose actions could’ve easily ensured Xandro had never been born.

  The reminder that he had enemies in this world and that Sage, through her brother, was one of them, eroded a little of the carnal edge gripping him.

  ‘I’ll return in a few hours. Be ready to go out to dinner tonight.’

  She looked over her shoulder. Whatever response she’d been about to give dried up because, he suspected, of the grim look on his face.

  ‘Okay,’ was all she said.

  And as he walked away Xandro prayed, for her sake, that it was the beginning of the end of her resistance.

  * * *

  The little black dress she’d thrown into her suitcase at the last minute didn’t need ironing. It was one of the many small things Sage was thankful for when she emerged from the most spectacular bathroom she’d ever seen, mainly because every single brain cell seemed to be hooked on the kiss she’d shared with Xandro.

  Although shared was probably not an accurate description.

  He’d conquered her lips. Branded every inch inside and out and left her with a hunger that even now, four hours later, was as acute as ever. Many times after he’d walked away, she’d found her fingers tracing her mouth, a little stunned at the tingling that still lingered.

  She knew that he’d picked her as a pawn against her brother. And yet she’d fallen into his kiss at the first opportunity, despite every precaution she’d taken.

  But...dear heaven, that kiss had been something else.

  His touch had been electric. His eyes had sparked with a hunger that had resonated in her belly. Afterwards she’d hated herself for the weakness but, so far, she’d been unable to stop the sizzling in her bloodstream.

  She shook herself free of the unsettling sensation, reminding herself that her focus was on keeping Ben and her parents out of Xandro’s retributive clutches. There was no way she would allow it to go further than that.

  It was almost seven. Xandro hadn’t given her a specific time but, since this dinner was happening, she would be better off ready and waiting so she could get it over with.

  Her freshly washed hair was blow-dried. The sumptuous robe hugging her from neck to ankle came off. As she slipped on the dress, she couldn’t stop a momentary pang of disquiet. Everything in Xandro’s world was super-luxurious and in a class available to a select few. She fingered her dress, staring critically at its simple off-the-shoulder design. Then her shoes, three-inch black slingbacks from a cheap chain store. Both were nothing special. As for accessories, besides the silver earrings her grandmother had given her for her sixteenth birthday, she had no other jewellery.

  Jewellery.

  The reminder of why all of this was happening dimmed her spirits further. Her life was in turmoil because Xandro was chasing trinkets for his lovers. Although...the last time she’d asked him, his expression had once again hinted at something more. Something deeper. Or maybe it was just her imagination.

  With a twist of her lips, she tugged the dress over her head and briskly attended to her light make-up. She hadn’t asked for any of this. So if Xandro didn’t care for what she wearing, too bad.

  She was standing at the living room window, her gaze and senses once again captivated by the ancient monument on the horizon, when she sensed him behind her.

  The fact that she couldn’t stop herself from turning around, the view no longer the primary demand on her focus, unsettled her further.

  He was dressed differently. He’d showered too if the damp strands curling over his forehead were any indication. Dressed entirely in black, he resembled the formidable, powerful mogul he was, despite the lack of a tie and the buttons left undone at his throat.

  The sight of his olive-skinned throat and the hint of chest hair she glimpsed sent a pulse of wild heat low in her belly. A reaction she tried to studiously ignore when he raised his head from the phone in his hand and speared her with his silver-grey gaze.

  ‘Are you ready?’ His eyes conducted a slow scrutiny. One that had a hot little breath catching in he
r throat.

  Her nod brought his gaze up to her face, then higher to her hair. ‘Do you ever wear your hair down?’ The question was clipped, as if he was displeased.

  She frowned, wondering why his displeasure made her stomach roil. ‘Yes,’ she snapped back. She’d intended to wear it down this evening. Until she’d reminded herself that this wasn’t a date. Or even a platonic social outing. She was being blackmailed to bring her brother to heel.

  She started towards him, then noticed his gaze still riveted on her hair. Her step slowed, and she found her fingers creeping up her nape to touch the knot. She hastily dropped her hand. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Other than your tongue being sharper than a wasp’s sting, and your hair the exact shade of an Ayia Hera sunset, no,’ he delivered, then frowned. Balled hands shoved into his pockets and he turned on his heel.

  Sage got the distinct feeling he’d let something slip he hadn’t meant to. But what was the big deal about mentioning a place in his native country? Unless, like her, he’d remembered that this wasn’t a date. She mentally shrugged, following him to the door he held open for her.

  Their journey down in the executive lift was conducted in silence. Sage tried to take small breaths to avoid inhaling too much of the citrus-layered aftershave blended with his unique masculine scent. But doing so only starved her of oxygen and made her heart pump faster.

  It was a relief to escape the charged atmosphere five storeys later, when the lift opened straight onto a marble-floored foyer that led into the chic Michelin-starred restaurant she’d read about in the coffee table book in her room.

  She was taking it all in when she felt his breath on her neck.

  ‘I’m going to put my hand on you now. Be an angel and don’t jump,’ he rasped against her ear.

  ‘I wasn’t going to,’ she returned in a thankfully firm voice, but nothing could guard her against the electricity that zinged through her system when his hand touched her waist a second later.

  ‘Glad to hear it. That smile wouldn’t go amiss now, though,’ he added as the maître d’ hurried towards them.

  ‘You can’t just command me to smile. That’s like me commanding you to make me laugh.’

  ‘Sorry, pedhaki mou, I’m fresh out of knock-knock jokes. But you can do something about that rabbit-caught-in-headlights look you’re sporting right now.’

  She was caught between wondering what pedhaki mou meant and snapping at him for his continued commands when his hand tightened on her waist and he pulled her closer to his body. Every thought flew out of her head as the hard contours of his body met hers. Heart rate spiking even more, she gripped her clutch tighter, hoping the discomfort shooting through her fingers would ground her.

  She smiled at the maître d’ simply because he was charming but felt a little nervous when his gaze flicked to his ultimate employer. He showed them to their table in the middle of the room and was about to pull out her chair when Xandro muttered a few words in his mother tongue.

  The maître d’ stepped back hastily, leaving Xandro to seat her. More murmured words and the man filled their water glasses and hurried away to fetch menus.

  ‘So, did I pass the test?’ she asked for want of something to disrupt the fraught silence that had descended over the table. She’d expected him to take his seat opposite her. Instead, he threw her for a loop by taking the seat to her left. This close, she couldn’t avoid his scent suffusing her senses. Within a minute she was back to shallow breathing and wishing herself far, far away from here.

  His eyes met hers, but his features remained neutral even though she sensed an undercurrent. ‘You would have, had you not missed the point entirely and smiled at another man instead of the one you’re with.’

  She stopped the urge to roll her eyes when she noted the interest coming their way from other diners. ‘We’re being watched.’

  ‘And? That shouldn’t be a new phenomenon for you.’

  ‘I’m used to an audience when I dance. This is different.’ Her fingers found the stem of her water glass. ‘Is that why you brought me here—because you knew your adoring acolytes would be ready to document your illustrious presence in their midst?’

  One corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Of course. Why else?’ he demanded imperiously.

  Sage was struck with the sudden urge to see that smile grow with a genuine amusement that wasn’t at her expense.

  She was sure the absurd compulsion was why she hastened into more conversation. ‘That place you mentioned. Ayia...?’

  He stiffened slightly, his gaze growing hooded. ‘Ayia Hera.’

  She nodded. ‘Is that where you’re from originally?’

  A terse silence greeted her question, then he spoke. ‘It’s where my family emigrated from. I was born and raised in New York. The slums of the Bronx, to be exact.’

  ‘Do you have any family back in Ayia Hera?’

  His jaw tightened for a moment. ‘No. I don’t.’

  The answer was curt. A warning not to probe further. ‘What about New York? Do you have family—?’

  Her words were cut off when he slid his hand over her nape, pulled her close and sealed his mouth over hers. The move was silky-smooth, executed with a predatory precision that would’ve stopped her breath, had the sensation of his warm, demanding mouth on hers not done that already. Just like this afternoon, the feeling was almost otherworldly in its devastating effect on her.

  Shock held her still long enough for Xandro to press his mouth firmer against hers, for him to relearn the contours of her lips and then to sweep his tongue over her lower lip in an act so carnal heat shot straight between her legs.

  The sensation was so unnervingly visceral, she jerked in her seat. In direct contrast to when his grip had tightened earlier, his fingers drifted over her neck, eliciting an intoxicating swell of pleasure that paralysed her. The fire spread, singeing her in places she’d never imagined a kiss could touch her before today.

  When his thumb slid slowly along her jaw, she gasped. The act granted him entry. Xandro deepened the kiss, taking his time to explore her mouth before, just as abruptly as he’d taken hold of her, he released her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  HE CASUALLY SAT BACK, lifting one hand to beckon the hovering sommelier. Stunned and frozen in her chair, Sage tried in vain to calm her runaway pulse. The tingling that hadn’t quite abated from this afternoon now almost burned her mouth, and her stomach felt as if the bottom had dropped out of it.

  The energetic buzz and the rise in conversation around them justified the creeping mortification of knowing their kiss had been witnessed and they were being gossiped about. Heat of a different kind surged up her neck and scorched her cheeks. She lifted her hand to her face. Or at least she tried to.

  Xandro captured it in one of his, thwarting her by diverting it to his mouth. His lips brushed her knuckles, further sending her senses into free fall. When she attempted to use her other hand, he trapped that one too.

  Grey eyes gone dark with hunger and whatever evil schemes he was concocting issued a warning at her as their wine was poured. Her whole body was on fire, and she couldn’t stop her brain from shrieking in shock.

  He’d kissed her again. Without warning. As if he had every right. As if he owned her.

  He’d done it to shut her up, she knew deep down. But the effect was the same. She felt...invaded. Thrillingly, decadently invaded. Unable to speak with their sommelier still pouring their chilled white wine, Sage swallowed, and subtly attempted to disengage her fingers from Xandro’s hold. He ignored her, holding on as he nodded to something the man said. She sat through the production of an ice bucket being set up next to Xandro and the arrival of their waiter to take their order.

  ‘Do you prefer the seafood or the salad starter, pethi mou?’ Xandro enquired in a low, deep voice. ‘Have the seafood.’

  It took monumental effort to force her brain back on track. ‘I’ll have the salad,’ she told the waiter. She drew the line at having what s
he ate controlled by Xandro.

  His eyes gleamed but he didn’t comment. She barely heard him dismiss their server, her every sense focused on the hand linked tightly with hers.

  The moment they were alone she exhaled the pent-up angst roiling inside her. Then jumped when his lips grazed over her knuckles once again. ‘Stop. You... I...you can’t do that!’

  She was shaking, she realised. He noticed too. Noticed and folded his hands over both of hers in a gesture that would’ve seemed warming or comforting to their avid audience. She watched, wide-eyed, as his thumb slowly caressed back and forth over her knuckles. ‘Pull yourself together, Sage. Our audience has grown.’

  ‘And whose fault is that?’ she hissed. ‘God, I can’t believe you—’

  ‘Believe it. Or I will kiss you again and keep kissing you until you do.’

  The flame that chased through her veins was a little too giddy for her liking. ‘Why? If you didn’t want me to ask questions, why didn’t you just say so?’

  ‘Would you have listened? You don’t have a history of doing what I say.’

  ‘And that warrants you assaulting me?’

  He took his time to answer, his gaze drifting over her face before rising to meet hers. ‘Your pulse is racing, sure. But you hardly look traumatised. And the way you’re licking your lips right now makes me think you want more where that came from.’

  She immediately firmed her traitorous lips. ‘I’d prefer it if you kept your hands and your mouth to yourself. Let me go.’

  This time he released her, sat back and calmly picked up his wine. But he didn’t immediately drink. ‘Within the next hour, news of my mysterious new lover will hit social media. This may not have been how I planned it, but there’s an upside to it.’