The Savakis Merger (6 page)

‘Half Greek. My mother was Australian.’ Her words were clipped, as if he’d delved into something private. He waited for her to continue.

‘Besides, some people here in the north have fairer colouring. All the Manolis family are the same.’ Her gaze settled on his dark locks as if disapproving.

‘Your cousin’s hair is brown. There’s no comparison.’

He watched her open her mouth as if to shoot off a riposte, then stop herself. She shrugged and turned away. ‘Now, if I’ve satisfied your curiosity—’

‘Not yet. Tell me,’ he drawled, ‘why keep me at arm’s length? Surely after yesterday I’m entitled to a little more warmth. Are you one of those women who need the thrill of a secret assignation to fire her blood? Are you turned on by the possibility of being found in flagrante delicto?’

Callie stared at the sprawling bungalow a hundred metres down the path and knew it would be a miracle if she made it there with her temper and her composure in place.

Fire her blood, indeed!

Yet she shrank from the suspicion that maybe he was right. Maybe the thrill of desire that had swept her doubts and defences away yesterday was a result of their anonymity and the unspoken daring of their actions.

She shut her eyes, remembering the delicious excitement as he’d walked towards her through the dappled shade, his eyes never leaving hers so she felt the tug of his powerful personality like a living force. Without pause or hesitation he’d pulled her into his arms as if she belonged there. She’d welcomed each caress with a fervour that frightened her now.

Nothing had ever seemed so right, so perfect.

Callie snapped open her eyes. She’d given him too much already. She wouldn’t let him toy with her while he played games of one-upmanship with her uncle. While he decided whether to take her cousin in a cold-blooded business deal.

She was done with being a pawn in any man’s machinations.

‘You’re not entitled to anything from me.’

She fixed him with the cool look she’d perfected long ago to hide desperately churning emotions. Alkis had had no patience with emotion in his wife. Retreat behind her façade of indifference had been a hard-won but necessary survival skill.

‘I disagree. After yesterday your attitude is downright unfriendly.’

Damon paced closer. She had to lift her head to hold his gaze. His heat curled round her like an invitation. The scent of soap, sea and healthy male enticed her till it was an effort not to reach out needy fingers for one last caress.

Callie slid her hands into her trouser pockets lest she be tempted to do something insane like touch him.

‘Yesterday is over.’

‘But what we had needn’t be.’ His low, seductive voice pierced her brittle façade. He made her yearn again for the delicious torment of his touch.

That terrified her.

‘It’s over,’ she repeated, wishing she believed it.

‘And if I’m not ready to end it?’ His look was arrogant.

‘There was nothing to end.’ The words tumbled out. She had to concentrate on slowing down, maintaining her calm. ‘We had sex. That’s all.’

‘Just sex.’ His brows winged up and she thought she saw fury blaze in his eyes. Then the moment was gone and his face was unreadable. ‘Is that what you specialise in, Callie? Hot sex with strangers you forget the next day?’

Her skin crawled with embarrassment and rage. Yet she knew better than to show it. She let her gaze drop to his shoulders, his wide chest, the powerful length of his arms and legs, then slowly up as if she were used to inspecting the finer points of a sexy male body.

‘I could say the same for you,’ she said, silently cursing the dry mouth that made the words come out too husky. ‘You got what you wanted yesterday. End of story.’

‘You’re wrong, my fine lady. It’s not the end at all.’

A tremor ran through her body, drawing each muscle tight with…anticipation? Excitement?

No! She refused to play his games of seduction and temptation.

Yesterday had been a terrible error of judgement. She’d broken every precept, her own moral code, for a few hours’ passion. It had been momentary insanity.

She should have guessed nothing was as pure and simple as it had seemed at the time.

‘Believe me, Kyrie Savakis, it’s over. Why not move on?’ Callie had no doubt by nightfall he’d find another woman eager to become a notch on his bedpost. As she had been yesterday. Her chest constricted painfully.

‘Because I’m a man who gets what he wants, glikia mou. You’ve whetted my appetite and I want more.’

His lips curved in a hungry smile that sent fear trickling down her spine.

‘I want you, Callie. And I intend to have you.’

WHAT the hell had got into him? Even as the words emerged from his mouth, Damon questioned his sanity.

She wasn’t the sort of woman he wanted in his life.

Nothing he’d learned about her was positive.

Except for the ecstatic, uninhibited way she responded to sex. In that department she packed enough punch to flatten even his formidable self-control.

The unvarnished truth was once with Callie Manolis wasn’t enough.

Despite his scruples and his anger he wanted her. Still. More. Again.

He cursed his weakness but couldn’t pull back. His need was primal, stronger than reason.

Her eyes widened. Her mouth sagged and he fantasised about plundering it with an urgent kiss that would lead to other, more satisfying activities.

‘Your threats don’t frighten me.’ Yet her voice was husky. She was frightened.

Or turned on. Damon’s body tensed on the thought.

‘No threat. A promise.’

‘You have no hold over me.’ She lifted her head and bestowed a blazing look, like an Amazon queen, defiant and proud. ‘I run my own life. No man tells me what to do.’

She gestured to the bungalow at the end of the path. ‘I’m sure you can find your own way, Kyrie Savakis.’ Then she turned and left him. She strolled easily as if she’d done no more than dismiss a servant.

No one dismissed Damon Savakis.

Yet he silently applauded her nerve. Not many people stood up to Damon.

She fascinated him. He wanted to smash past her poise and warm her body with his till the heat consumed them both.

He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans rather than haul her into his arms and force her submission with a direct, passionate assault.

That would be too easy, too crude. He wanted the satisfaction of her coming to him, begging for his attention.

In twenty-four hours Callista had become more than a challenge. She was fast becoming an obsession. Despite her disdain. Despite who she was. Or perhaps because of it.

Old anger stirred. His grandfather and his father had slaved for the Manolis family, wrecking their health for little pay. His grandfather had worked himself into an early grave. When Damon’s father died in an industrial accident in the Manolis shipyards his mother had received condolences, a company representative at the funeral and none of the compensation she was entitled to. Lawyers had exploited a loophole to absolve the company of responsibility. As if it wasn’t a matter of conscience and honour. As if his father’s death had been another entry in a ledger.

Damon had directed his anger into his quest for success, ensuring his family was never again as vulnerable as when he was fifteen, the eldest of five fatherless children.

Was it any wonder he enjoyed watching Aristides Manolis scamper to please him? Or revelled in the idea of Callista Manolis, so dismissive, bending to his will?

Her damnable coolness set the seal on her fate.

Damon would make her confess her desire. He’d take her again, just long enough to have his fill. Then he’d dump her, leaving her craving more. Craving what she couldn’t have.

Callie walked up the hill, resisting the instinct to run. The knowledge that he watched her gave her courage not to flee. That and the fact that her knees trembled so hard it was a supreme effort to move at all.

She felt his hot, possessive gaze like a touch. That proprietorial sweep of her body with eyes so black she fell into oblivion whenever they held hers. Despite her fury her traitorous body was alive with fizzing awareness.

She’d given herself blithely, not realising the danger.

Now she couldn’t escape until she sorted out her inheritance. Without that she couldn’t realise her dream of establishing a small business and supporting herself.

That dream had kept her going through the cruel years of marriage. It had given her hope. It was too precious to give up. Yet all she could do now was pray her uncle’s deal went through and, miraculously, Damon rejected his matchmaking.

She stumbled to a stop as realisation slammed into her. Only Damon’s money could save her plans for the future.

Thank God he had no idea. He was unscrupulous enough to use her vulnerability against her.

The sound of weeping interrupted her thoughts. Following it, she came to a secluded grove. There, to her dismay, she found Angela huddled on a bench, shoulders hunched.

Callie froze, memories swamping her.

Déjà vu. Seven years ago she’d come here to sob out her broken heart when the love of her life betrayed her. She’d thought nothing could eclipse her pain and disillusionment.

How naïve she’d been. That had just been the beginning.

‘Angela! What is it, sweetie?’ She hurried forward and wrapped an arm round her cousin’s unsteady shoulders.

‘It’s Papa,’ she sniffed. ‘He knew I’d been talking to Niko. He was furious.’ She slumped and Callie drew her close.

‘He’s forbidden you to see Niko?’

Angela nodded.

‘Go on.’ Callie’s heart was leaden. She’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

Her uncle had let slip last night that Damon hadn’t yet agreed to the marriage.

‘He won’t listen, doesn’t care that Niko and I love each other.’ Angela wailed. ‘He says I have to save the family and the company.’

Callie’s arm tightened.

‘I tried to reason with him.’ Angela’s voice was ragged and Callie’s chest squeezed, knowing what it had cost her cousin to stand up to her bullying father. ‘I said Damon wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m not glamorous like you. That only made him angrier. He said Damon wanted children with someone obedient and docile. Someone from a good family to connect him with the right sort of people.’

Callie cringed at her uncle’s prejudiced views. As if Damon needed marriage to secure his place in society! His authority and massive wealth gave him entrée wherever he cared to go. Her uncle was a troglodyte.

But in one thing he was right: men still bartered wealth to possess women. Her uncle had cashed in on Alkis’ obsession with Callie to shore up the family coffers last time he’d mismanaged the company. Callie had been naïve enough to fall in with his wishes, for the good of the family. She’d thought her life over at eighteen and hadn’t realised the yoke she’d put around her neck, marrying a man as cruel and controlling, and as insecure as Alkis.

‘Papa said a man took a wife to bear children and make life comfortable.

That Damon would look elsewhere for…for…’

‘Shh, Angela. It’s all right.’ Bitter fury surged in Callie’s veins at her uncle’s callousness, treating them like pawns. At the ruthless men who joined his devious games.

‘But it’s not. If I don’t obey we’ll lose everything. The house. Everything.

And Mama is so sick, more than Papa realises. If she needs treatment…’

Angela sat up, breaking Callie’s embrace. Her face was pale and set, despite the tears tracking down her cheeks.

With a last hug Callie let her arm drop, watching Angela’s drawn face with foreboding. Despite her quivering mouth there was resolution in the tight angle of her jaw.

‘You’re not alone, Angela. Remember that. I’ll help.’

‘But what can you do? What can either of us do?’

Callie stood and reached out a hand. Angela let Callie pull her up.

‘Don’t give up yet. We’ll find something.’

Whatever it took she’d find a way to save her cousin.

She couldn’t let Angela endure what she, Callie, had. She’d walk over hot coals to prevent it.

Callie’s lips thinned in a grimace of determination.

She’d get down on her knees and beg Damon Savakis, if that was what it took.

‘Thank you, Callie.’ Damon accepted the cold drink, deliberately encircling her slim fingers.

She jumped and sticky juice cascaded over their hands.

Her nerves were frayed, he saw with satisfaction. Her touch-me-not composure crumbled after days playing hostess to him. The business could have been concluded in a few hours but Damon had let Manolis drag out discussions, since it meant having Callie at his beck and call.

At first he’d thought she’d run. He’d been ready for a chase. Instead the hunt had become a slow siege, a war of attrition. With each day the flicker of hunger in his belly grew to a blaze as he sensed her defences weaken.

She tugged her hand. Damon didn’t release her but got up from the poolside chair, fingers still wrapped around hers.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured, her gaze skating from his then back again. ‘I’ve spilled it. I’ll go and get a cloth.’

‘No need.’

‘But I—’

‘Let me.’

He lifted their linked hands. Gold sparked in her sea-green eyes and beneath the high-necked silk top her breasts rose and fell rapidly. As rapidly as his shortened breathing.