Taken by the Greek Billionaire (19 page)
“Not exactly.”
“But this is where we are,” he added. “This passion is the long
lasting kind. I know that now. It will not burn out. Not ever.”
“You’re sure?” she asked, her own words coming back to haunt her.
Passion such as theirs burned out as
quickly as it came….
“I’ve never been surer,” he said. “And however long it takes, I will
make you just as sure. Eventually you will stop being scared, stop trying to
hide, you will be just Penny.
My
Kleftisa
.
My woman.”
“I don’t want to hide anymore,” she said.
“Good, because I love you,
Kleftisa
.
You are
mine
now.”
The words thrilled her, finally removing the burn and the heavy
weight that had become almost part of her. His words made her into just Penny
again.
A woman desperately, insanely, maddeningly in love
with her man.
Madness.
“I love you too, Demetrious,” she said and he nodded, the naked need
in his eyes making her stomach flip.
“So you and me it is,” he said, and the laugher in his voice made
the flip turn into a sizzle all over again. Desire burned hot and low as she
suspected it always would, as he’d promised.
“You and me.”
“The billionaire and the criminal.
I wonder how we’ll explain it to the grandchildren.”
“Grandchildren?”
He nodded. “Oh yes, give it a year or two and we’ll get started,
after we marry of course. I want you to myself for a while yet, an extended
honeymoon, and you have all those waifs and strays to save. Talking of which,
I’ve set you up a base of operations in the study at our home.”
“Our home?”
“It always will be now,” he said. “You’re going to need somewhere to
get all you centers up and running and if I don’t fund them you’ll only go out
and rob someone else. And I can’t be having that can I? The only billionaire
home you’ll be running around in that tight suit of yours is ours.”
Her head was spinning.
Grandchildren?
Marriage?
Centers?
It seemed almost
impossible and yet…it wasn’t. It was real, shockingly, unbelievably real.
“Where is the suit?” she asked.
“And my tools?”
“At home waiting for you,” he said. “And yes you will be wearing it.
Often.
But you will not be using them again. Your
criminal days are well and truly over.”
She laughed, pure happiness filling her. “Sebastian you say
centers…”
“As many as you need. As many as it takes to make a difference.”
She reached up and placed a hand against his jaw. He was stubbly,
looked all rakish and she loved him so fucking much. “Thank you, Bastian.
For the centers, for loving me, and most of all for being so
understanding.”
He leaned into the caress, placing a light kiss on her palm. “We
Greeks are very emphatic.”
“And very family orientated.”
“Indeed.”
“So then,” Penny asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and
pulling him close. “We have the base camp all set up, but which rooms in our
home shall we give Rachel and
Lyra
?”
The End
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Bedded by the Italian
Playboy (Criminal Seduction, 2)
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Chapter One
The three garment bags were clustered together, hanging from the
rickety, single door wardrobe. On the left was a dark blue one, scavenged
somewhere by
Lyra
and containing, no doubt, an outfit
perfect for any sex bomb. On the right side was a black bag that Penny had
found in a local charity store. Inside it was what she called her
Catwoman
-ninja suit. And in the very middle of the
wardrobe, as if protected by the others, was a grubby white bag with ‘
Wondrous Weddings’
printed on the
breast.
Hers.
Rachel stepped forward and ran a finger down the length of it. The
material—the very cheap polyester material—crinkled slightly under her fingers
and she frowned, taking a deep breath as she did so. She needed that breath.
Needed to feel her lungs expand with oxygen, to feel her stomach
suck in on itself.
And then the exhale.
She let
it out carefully, willing the breath to take her nerves with it.
Because she
was
nervous.
Very nervous.
Her stomach was flipping all over the
place and already she could feel a headache beginning at the base of her skull.
But then was that any wonder? Never had so much been asked of her. Certainly
more had been taken but never given. And her sisters were asking her to give,
they would always ask, never tell. That was not the way their trio worked.
Which meant she had no choice but to step a little
closer to the bag.
“C’mon,
Rach
,”
she whispered, tracing the seams. “Just unzip the bag.”
The zipper was cool against her clammy fingers and she pulled it
slowly.
Carefully.
Inch by inch her battle uniform was
revealed and Rachel did not know whether to laugh or to cry when she saw it in
its full glory.
Lyra
had picked it out of course. Not
only was she the sister who understood men better than the other two ever would,
but she was the only one that could stand to even go clothes shopping. What was
the point after all when you couldn’t afford anything in the shop?
Abruptly, Rachel found herself wondering how much this outfit had
cost but shook the thought off as soon as it formed. That didn’t matter now.
All that mattered was the mission.
She brushed the material softly, sighing from the feel of it against
her palm, and then she slipped the dress and its delicate jacket off the hanger
before laying it down across Penny’s bed. The bright blue bedspread made the
pinks and creams and yellows of the halter neck, fifties style dress fill her
vision. It was a riot of flowers and swirls and she couldn’t help the smile
that formed as soon as she realized that there was an underskirt. Not a stiff
one but one all the same. And then the jacket, light cream with scalloped
lapels. It was perfectly fitted to show off her hourglass figure.
Rachel adored it all.
“Shoes,” she whispered. “Where are the shoes?
They sat in the bottom of the bag along with a matching clutch. The
same cream as the jacket, they were so pretty that for a moment Rachel almost
forgot the reason she had them.
Almost.
She lined them all up, dress, jacket, shoes, bag, and then made her
way into the shower. It gave her a slow stream of tepid water and she shivered
as she dried herself on a thin towel, her stomach continuing to flip.
Back in the room, she dressed slowly. Instead of her usual dress on
went the new one. Instead of her tired old flats, the shiny heels. It felt
symbolic somehow. Leaving the old Rachel behind and making her into a new one.
For the moment at least.
And then in no time at all she was
ready, and looking into the mirror made it all real in a way it never had been
before.
The dress did indeed mold to every curve, the jacket nipping in at
her waist. Her blonde curls fell over her shoulders and the heels elevated her,
adding inches to her tiny frame. There was no makeup. It wasn’t needed. No
perfume, no fancy accessories.
Just this.
“Show time,” she whispered and felt the nerves well up all over
again.
In the other room, she could hear her sisters. They were talking
softly, their voices a single, unified hush. Probably they were talking about
her.
Wondering if she was up to the job.
Wondering if they could count on her.
Truth
be
told she was halfway to wondering the
same thing herself.
Had been wondering for weeks.
But
then they’d picked Dominic Rimeria for a reason hadn’t they? From their
research they knew she was exactly the type of woman he desired.
Exactly.
The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the curves, the way
she dressed, everything. If the man had been asked to sit down and draw his
perfect woman in terms of her physical attributes the drawing would be Rachel.
The man.
Her mark.
Her mission.
“You can do this,” she told
her reflection. “You know you can. Lyra thinks so. Penny thinks so. They’re
counting on you just as you are counting on them. This is your chance.
Your chance to show them.
Your chance to
show yourself.”
Her reflection nodded. It smoothed down the dress, outlining the
curve of its hips. It shook its head, making the curls bounce and then it
smiled.
It looked lovely.
“Dominic
Rimeria
will be eating out of
your hand in no time,” Rachel whispered before repeating the words Lyra had
drilled into her over and over. “Bait the trap, apply the honey, and get the
money.”
She had to do this.
Had to.
She picked up the clutch bag just as a surge of adrenaline shot
through her, subduing the nerves enough to make her stride from the bedroom.
Her sisters sat on the dilapidated couch, but they stood straight up the moment
she walked through the door. It pleased Rachel enormously to see their admiring
glances. To see Lyra place her hands on her hips and give a whistle, to see
Penny tilt her head in that way of hers.
“You look amazing,” Penny said. “Like a flower come to life.”
“Perfect,”
Lyra
added.
The adrenaline continued to flow and Rachel knew it was time. “I’m
ready,” she said.
“Ready to do this.”
“You sure?”
Penny
asked even as Lyra nodded her approval.
“Absolutely.”
And suddenly—maybe because of the adrenaline or
because her sisters were next to her—Rachel knew that she was.
After all, she thought as Lyra and Penny moved forward and fussed
with her hair and clothes, when it came right down to it how hard could it be?
To make Dominic Rimeria, notorious Italian playboy and billionaire mark, burn
for her?
Easy as one, two,
three
….
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