A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks (20 page)

He wanted more of Sophie. All of her.

And then she opened her mouth. “That was interesting.”

S
ophie woke to a big
, warm hand on the round mound of her stomach. Hot breath whispered on the hairs at the back of her neck. A long, hairy leg pressed between her own and she was pretty sure that wasn’t a broomstick poking into her.

Her eyes popped open.

Daylight flooded the room. The sun’s rays were bright and dazzling, signaling a beautiful, early-winter day.

In Paris.

Right. She was in Paris.

A grumble came from behind her as the rasp of a bearded chin rubbed along her shoulder. The big hand on her tummy tightened, bumping her butt against the hard pressure of the not-a-broomstick.

“Sophie,” a sleepy male voice rumbled into her neck.

Alex.

Right. She was in bed with him.

With Alex Stravoudas.

The memories returned. The magic of the Christmas windows and merry-go-round. The kiss under the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower. The walk back to the apartment in a haze of desire.

Alex naked.

Alex touching her.

Alex inside her.

He hummed behind her. Another of his tugs brought her into the curve of his lean body, the feel of his hot chest on her back making her shiver.

“Cold,
krotída mou
?” Another hand slid to her breasts and squeezed. “I can make you warm.”

Yes. He could. Alex Stravoudas made her very warm last night, and he could do it again with his perfect kisses and perfect touches and perfect sex.

In the daylight.

Complete daylight.

Yanking the duvet to her neck, she pushed his hand off her breast. “Don’t you have a meeting this morning with Henry as usual?”

The big body behind her stiffened, but then he hummed once more and she felt the scrape of his overnight beard on the top of her spine as he nuzzled into her like she was his prize.

“Alex?” She needed him to get out of bed and go into the bathroom so she could escape.

“Hmm.” The scraping sensation drifted down until the softness of his mouth and tongue traced the line of her spine back to her neck. He licked there, moving to the side and then, to her ear.

Unwillingly, her nipples tightened and a tingle spread between her legs. Still, she didn’t want to have sex with him again.

Not in broad daylight.

And not like last night.

When she’d said it had been interesting, she’d said exactly what she meant. Yes, she’d had multiple, amazing orgasms and yes, he’d done a magnificent job at having sex with her.

But that’s what was wrong.

She had the clear impression he’d felt as if it was his job.

She didn’t appreciate having sex with men who got into bed intent on making a point. Not that she’d ever had the experience before. Usually, her old boyfriends got in, had fun, and then started to snore. She’d never thought about multiple orgasms while having sex. She’d been just glad for the human connection and grateful the boyfriend didn’t demand anything unusual.

Like seeing her completely naked with the lights on.

Like Alex had wanted last night.

“Henry’s going to be wondering where you are,” she pointed out, trying to control her breath as he nibbled on her earlobe. “It must be at least nine o’clock.”

His response was a tongue teasing in her ear. The tease sprinkled a hot reaction across her skin and she couldn’t help the tiny gasp that escaped.

He chuckled.

“Stop.” She scrunched her head to her neck, pushing him away.

He grunted.

Yes, the man had all the moves. Touched all the right places. Yet she continued to get the feeling he’d approached sex with her as he approached selling his next project, or building a better skyscraper than the other guy, or being…Mr. Perfect.

Behind her, Mr. Perfect had regrouped. His breath ruffled through her hair as he started playing with her nipples. His fingers knew precisely what to do. They perfectly assessed her needs and wants and her nipples loved what he did.

She did not.

She did not like to be played with.

“Alex.” Jerking away, she rolled into the covers and turned to face him armored in Egyptian cotton and French sateen.

His cerulean blue eyes were hazy with passion and his lush mouth was wet from kissing her skin. His golden hair fell around his masculine face giving him the look of an angelic devil. A caramel brow rose. “What?”

He’d been a bit put-out at her
interesting
comment last night, but when she’d bent over him to ask what the heck that was all about, he’d kissed her before she could squawk. Then he’d enveloped her in his warm embrace before she could find her wits. Within a few minutes, he’d been asleep and, feeling nice about being held, Sophie had soon done the same.

“You need to leave.” She didn’t think discussing his perfect mechanical lovemaking while they were naked was a good idea. Better left to do when taking a long walk or drinking a good glass of wine.

Because she wanted to have sex with Alex again. However, she wasn’t going to take Mr. Perfect in his stead. Not ever again.

“Do I?” he murmured.

The sunlight dappled across his honeyed skin like a splatter of white paint on gold. His nipples were tan discs and the smattering of blond hair around them only seemed to draw her gaze to their perfection.

Noticing her attention, the man pushed the sheets down to his waist and stretched his arms above his head. Laying himself out like a tempting pastry.

“Yes,” she snapped as she clutched the sheets with tight hands. “You do.”

His blond brows frowned and his blue eyes went dark with frustration. “That damn tragic story. Again.”

“No. That’s not—”

“We’re going to have to talk about it. It might as well be now.”

It might as well be never
. “You need to get to work.”

“No, I don’t.” Propping his hands behind his neck, his face turned serious. As if he was going to be her bossy psychiatrist. “You’re more important.”

His words made her all fuzzy inside, yet his arrogant attitude made her want to bop him on his big, elegant nose. Before she could decide whether she should hit him or kiss him, the buzz of his cell rattled from the bedside.

He ignored it, staring at her, instead.

“Answer your phone.”

Sighing and shaking his head, he leaned over to stare at the phone. “It’s Henry.” His voice was empty of emotion.

Another interesting thing to think about. What the heck was going on with him and the emir’s building and Henry? She’d formed the impression, while observing Alex during the last few months, that his business was a bright spot in his life. Not the only spot, but certainly one of the brightest. No guy reached the pinnacle of architectural prominence by neglecting his work. Still, during the last week, it appeared to her Alex wasn’t merely neglecting, he was avoiding.

Interesting.

“You should answer the phone,” she said.

With a grunt of disgust, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for the cell. “Yeah.”

He sounded like a sullen teenager.

But he didn’t look like one.

Loosening the covers from around her because she suddenly felt quite hot, she nudged herself up to lean on the padded headboard. She couldn’t pull her gaze from the fine line of his broad shoulders, the sharp cut of his male shoulder blades, the graceful arch of his masculine spine. The silver-gray sheets clustered around his hips, showing only the beginning of the cleft of his butt.

Warmth, a warmth he created without touching her or kissing her, flooded through her body.

He was so beautiful, so perfect.

And she wanted him to be hers, all hers.

The truth of that fact, the painfully pleasurable truth, rumbled in her soul.

“Yeah?” He brushed his curls back and the strands caught the sunlight. Gold and blond and honey swirled in his hair, dazzling her with their radiance.

He straightened, the line of his spine growing taut. “I didn’t agree to that.”

Sophie noted how his hand tightened on the phone. What was going on?

“No way.” He stood in a quick snap and paced to the bathroom door. Stopping, he leaned one shoulder on the wall.

The grace of his movements caught her attention once more. The way his butt clenched as he walked, the muscles of his legs tightening as he stopped, the sweep of glory that was his strong back. A Greek god come to life, a marble statue walking off its pedestal and into her life.

“I won’t do it, Henry.” His head dropped.

She couldn’t see his face, yet the tone of his words told her everything. He was angry, frustrated. What was wrong?

“Four years?” His voice rose. “Four years of my life in that godforsaken place?”

A horrible silence fell as he listened to whatever Henry said.

“Maybe not all the time, but a lot of the time.” His big hand threw his long hair over his shoulder in a motion of rejection as he turned to face her, his eyes downcast. “We started at two years. Now that’s doubled and I won’t do it.”

Another horrible silence. His wide mouth went grim.

“I don’t care that the emir wants his own personal architect around at all times.”

She tightened her hands on the sheets. There was a terrible need bubbling inside her to jump out of the bed and run over to comfort him. Because something in the tone of his voice told her this wasn’t only about the emir. He fought something beyond that.

She should go to him.

Naked. In the light.

She sunk deeper into the bedcovers.

“Forget it,” he stated, a flat, fatal statement. “I won’t sign.”

He clicked off the phone and his hand dropped to his side.

“Alex?” she ventured his name after the silence carried on for a good ten seconds.

“We’re going home.”

T
his was not home
.

“Where are we?” Sophie peered through the private jet’s oval window. She’d fallen asleep as soon as they got on board, partly to avoid any messy conversations, but mostly because she’d only had a half night of sleep. Apparently, that had been a mistake. Apparently, Alex had decided to take off to…here…without an explanation.

“In a plane.”

She threw a scowl over her shoulder. “This isn’t New York.”

“No, it’s not.” He didn’t even glance at her from across the aisle. All his attention seemed to be pinned on the ridge of mountains they’d recently flown over.

She swung her head back to stare out once more. True, there were several big airplanes and some smaller ones standing on the tarmac. Every one of them circled around the three-story, blue-glass terminal in the late-afternoon sun. But she couldn’t compare it to the bustling hustle of La Guardia. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a sign proclaiming the name of the airport. Inspecting the various airplanes as they drove by, the pieces started to come together.

Then she caught the unmistakable sign all in Greek letters.

“We’re in Greece.” Shock shot through her. Alex had taken off for Greece without even asking her? Outrage ran right behind the shock. Yanking her belt off, she leapt to her feet. “You said we were going home.”

“This is home.” He kept his gaze on the outside. “For me.”

“I don’t—”

“You should sit down and buckle up,” he said, calm and cool. “At least until we come to a stop.”

“I have a business back in New York City.” The concern for him and his business, the worry and angst, flew right out of her mind. “I have responsibilities I need to take care of.”

“I called your father.”

“What?”

“While you were sleeping. He said he’d be fine for another week at your bakery. In fact, he sounded pleased at our delay.”

Finally, he looked at her. The blue of his eyes was dark and muddy instead of their usual brilliant cerulean. His jawline was tense, belying the calmness of his voice. The brute hands, those hands that had brought her perfect pleasure, lay on his thighs, slowly tightening into fists.

The man hurt.

The heat of her anger simmered to a low boil and she couldn’t help it when her heart gave a lurch.

She hadn’t been able to wrench a speck of information from him as they’d dressed, packed, and said good-bye to the ever cheerful Marcel. His cell had buzzed madly until he’d eventually turned it off and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. He’d given the impression he’d have liked to pitch the phone into the Seine instead. As they’d driven in a plain old taxi to the Orly Airport, Sophie had finally ceased to try. Whatever was frustrating Alex, whatever had happened between him and Henry and the emir, wasn’t something he was willing to share with her.

The woman he’d made perfect love to last night.

The woman he’d claimed was his friend.

A woman he hadn’t waited to have sex with because it didn’t matter that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

She sucked in a breath. She hurt, too. “You had no right.”

“Sophie.” He sighed and glanced away. “I need you here, okay?”

The plea drove right into her heart and parked in a hard jerk. Worry about her business fell away. “O-okay.”

“Thanks.” He gave her another look, this one from beneath his sinfully long lashes so she couldn’t truly see what he was thinking or what he was feeling.

Bending her will to another’s wasn’t her usual habit. Yet the pain in his eyes and his voice, and the love she held so tightly in her heart for this man, made her reassess her normal style.

She’d bend. For now.

Plunking herself back down on her seat, she stared through the window again. Her mind rolled around everything bringing no conclusions: the sex last night, his fight with Henry, what lay in her immediate future.

What lay in her future with Alex.

The airplane came to a stop.

“Come on.” He stood in a jerky, sharp move. “We have a drive ahead of us and I don’t want to do it in the dark.”

She clicked on her cell phone. Three-thirty p.m. “Does that mean we’re driving far?”

“Far enough.”

Before she could complain about his secrecy, he strode to the cockpit and opened the door. The pilot greeted him with a rumbled hello and her opportunity to make a point passed.

Within a half hour, they were on their way…somewhere…in a fancy Renault SUV. She wanted to reach over and slap him, but the waves of stress and tension rolling off the man made her decide to keep still and keep quiet for now. Whizzing along the sleek highway, they crossed the rugged mountains and dipped into small villages nestled in deep valleys. She settled herself into the leather seat, figuring she might as well let herself enjoy the foreign scenery and the moment.

The car started climbing and her jaw dropped when she caught her first glimpse of the top line of the mountains ahead of them. “Snow? In Greece?”

A short puff of laughter came from him and all the tension filling the car slipped away. “We even have a few ski resorts sprinkled in this area, believe it or not.”

“Really?” She braved a look over and met his eyes. To her delight and relief, they twinkled in a familiar way that made her heart lift.

“Yes, really. At the risk of being yelled at for playing tour guide…”

She chuckled. “Go right ahead.”

His big hand raised to point out the window. “Those are the Pindus Mountains and that tall one we’re driving toward is Mount Smolikas.”

“Did you come here, too, when you were young?”

Tension washed back in as his mouth grew grim and the line of his shoulders went taut. “No.”

“Oh.” She wanted the twinkling, happy Alex to return, but didn’t have a clue where to take the next step in this minefield named Alex Stravoudas.

They drove by a blue-and-white sign proclaiming Edessa
and she wished she’d paid more attention to her ancient history class in college. Wasn’t Edessa some important city at one point? She thought about asking the trusty tour guide by her side, yet another glance at him told her he wasn’t in the mood any longer.

Not in the mood to talk.

Not in the mood to explain.

And certainly not in the mood to confide.

Sighing, she slumped back and waited for whatever would come next.

After another silent period filled with brooding vibrations that made her anxiety rise, he swung off the highway and onto a small street leading toward the top of the mountains. Snow now covered the road and the roofs of the rugged stone homes they passed. Small village after small village, quaint and quiet, went by and the silence in the car deepened.

The sun fell behind the tips of the mountains. A deep, black darkness quickly dropped across the landscape and now all she could see was an occasional flash of light as they drove past a house. Sophie thought her heart might be sliding into darkness too. Why had he dragged her here? Especially when it was clear, he didn’t want any company. Did he think she would provide some great sex on the side and then just leave him alone?

Her heart slid down. Her temper heated.

She was about to begin yelling and questioning, when he turned the car onto a snow-covered driveway slithering its way right to the top of a mountain. A two-story stone structure stood on a cliff, spilling golden light out on the surrounding grounds.

The car stopped.

“This is it.” His voice gave nothing away.

“How interesting.” The edge of sarcastic heat lined her words and she didn’t care. He was being a complete jerk. Her patience with his secrecy and mood were at an end.

He glanced her way, a frown crossing his face. “You don’t like it?”

“I don’t even know what
it
is.”

“It’s my home.” Turning the car off, he cracked the car door open. “Actually, it’s my hideout.”

After dropping that bomb in her lap, he got out, slammed the door, and went to the back of the car for their luggage.

The front door of Alex’s hideout burst wide and an elderly lady stepped onto the steps, her beaming smile lit by the outside light. “
Kýrios
Alex.”

Another one of his loving female tribe. Of course. Well, at least Mr. Perfect would have to be mildly pleasant. She’d never seen him turn nasty with any of his employees and she’d bet he wasn’t going to start now.

No, come to think of it, he was only nasty with her.

The grumpy thought made her climb from the car in a huff.

“That’s Nella.” He walked to Sophie’s side, carrying his suitcase and hers in his burly hands like they were mere handbags. “She and her husband take care of the place when I’m not here.”

The lady’s smile widened and she burbled a long string of incomprehensible Greek. Alex smiled right back, his bad mood all gone in front of the older woman.

Of course.

“She doesn’t speak much English, and when she gets excited, she forgets.” He looked at Sophie and although the smile still lingered on his mouth, she saw a flash of the ugliness in the depths of his eyes.

“Come on.” He waved one suitcase. “I’ll show you my home.”

She followed him over the snow-packed path. When they got to the porch, she glanced up to meet two wide, brown eyes. Another dash of hurried Greek spilled into the silence of the night.

“English, Nella, remember?” he said. “This is Sophia. My friend.”

Friend? Is that all she was to him? A friend with perks?

Her temper bubbled into another boil.

The woman’s hands waved in a flutter, her expression one of amazement. Another blast of Greek excitement flowed from her mouth.

“She’s not used to me bringing guests.” His lips twisted into a wry grimace.

“You mean you haven’t brought a string of girlfriends here?” Irritation crackled in each of her words.

“No.” He glanced away. “Only you.”

Surprise and something wonderful welled in the center of her heart. Her temper simmered down. “Your mother and sisters don’t come here?”

“No.” He set the suitcases on the stone steps. “They don’t even know about it.”

Surprise turned into complete astonishment. Alex loved his family. She’d seen it during their fake engagement party. He’d spent time with every one of his sisters. He’d patiently listened to his mother’s worries about the party details. And every one of his nieces and nephews had been treated to a teasing hug or a laughing lift in the air.

The idea that he’d keep a place like this secret from a family who loved to travel and clearly adored each other was another mystery she wanted to know everything about. “Why don’t they know about it?”

“Nella.” He ignored her. “We’re tired and hungry.”

The elderly lady clapped her hands together in apparent self-disgust. Waving them into the warm foyer, she gave Sophie a smile even wider than she’d given her employer. “
Kahlos oreesate
.”

“That means welcome.” He strode past both of them, through a stone archway, carrying their two suitcases. “I’ll show you to your bedroom so you can freshen up.”

Sophie gave the woman a smile in return before following him, her mind swirling. Her bedroom? So that meant he had his own bedroom? It certainly sounded like it. An unsettling brew of confusion and irritation ran through her. The mix of emotions didn’t allow her to take in the surroundings—other than to note the place was old; the barrel ceiling in the kitchen they passed and the ancient limestone walls arching around them told the story.

He ascended a circular stone staircase, his head nearly hitting the rounded ceiling. Sophie climbed behind him to find a long hallway at the top. It ran along the length of the home, with ten red wooden doors lining each side.

“This place is huge,” she ventured.

“The place was an Ottoman prince’s palace at one point.” Striding down the hall, he opened the far door. “This is your bedroom.”

She walked to where he stood and stared at him. “Mine alone?”

“Ah, yeah.” He made a face. “Nella would be scandalized.”

Okay. He hadn’t brought her here as some kind of sex toy.

I need you.

That hadn’t been sex he’d been talking about. The warm, wonderful feeling inside welled from her heart into her whole soul. “Alex—”

“You’ll be comfortable here.” He paced away from her to set her suitcase on the canopied bed. Sophie took note of the antique Persian rug on the floor, a swirl of red and teal. Then there was the tapestry on the far wall that had to be another antique. Lastly the bed, with its cream drapes and lacy pillows, standing in the middle of the room looking like something made for a princess.

This place was a simple hideout?

“There’s an en suite bathroom.” He gestured to a stone archway. “And a terrace too, though it might be too cold to use.”

“Does Nella keep every one of these bedrooms and bathrooms ready for use at all times?”

“No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I called ahead.”

“So she knew you were bringing a guest this time.”

“I guess.” Throwing her a sullen look, an apparent warning not to ask any more probing questions, he stalked back to where she stood in the doorway. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Alex—”

“Nella’s probably cooked something for dinner.” He went right past her into the hallway. “Come down when you’re ready.”

She twisted around to stare at him. “You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.”

“Now’s not that point.” And with that cryptic remark, he left her to stew.

S
ophie scowled
out at the pristine snow.

Snow had fallen the entire day yesterday and all through this morning. Still, that’s not why she glared at the white stuff. No, she enjoyed snow. She liked to make snowmen and angels and romp around just like any other person who’d grown up in New York, but none of these activities were very fun to do alone.

“Sophia.” Nella’s cheerful voice rang from the kitchen. “
Éla
. Have some soup.”

Giving the snow one last glare, she marched into the blue-and-white kitchen that mixed modern with ancient in a suspiciously familiar way. The similarities between this kitchen and the one in Paris could not be a coincidence.