Jacqueline Baird - Mediterranean Tycoons

Katy walked in. ‘Your paper.’ She dropped the paper in the direction of the hall table, lifting her head and sniffing the air. ‘Is that coffee I smell?’ and she headed for the kitchen.

Eloise closed the door and bent down to pick the paper off the floor. It had fallen open, and her eyes caught a name in the centre page. Rick Pritchard. The blood drained from her face, her hand shook and, closing her eyes, she paused for a moment. Then with slow deliberation she rose and folded the paper and placed it on the table.

The name was a timely reminder. It was way past time she got herself back under control. She had allowed Marcus to break through the shield she kept over her emotions, the only person to do so in four years. She must rebuild her defence against him. But how easy that was going to be with Marcus calling all the shots? A deep, shuddering sigh escaped her and, straightening her shoulders, she took a few long steadying breaths, practising the exercises she had been taught. She could hear Katy’s voice and the deep rich tones of Marcus’s and then laughter.

If there were any repercussions from the unprotected sex of last night, Eloise knew she would have to leave Marcus. Which meant she would have to sell the house and break up the partnership. The sound of Katy’s laughter would be a thing of the past, as would their friendship, and all because of Marcus Kouvaris. But at this particular point in time she did not care. She had more important things to worry about, like staying alive… Suddenly Greece seemed a very desirable location.

By the time Eloise entered the kitchen, Marcus had talked Katy into believing it was a marvellous idea for Eloise to go to Greece. Eloise put up a token argument, not wanting Marcus to realise she had changed her mind—not because of him or Katy, but because Eloise wanted to be anywhere but England…

A dark skinned maid escorted her up a palatial marble staircase and along a wide corridor, and into a bedroom. ‘The master’s,’ she said with a giggle.

Eloise looked at the girl blankly. ‘Thank you, that will be all,’ she murmured, surprisingly not in the least embarrassed, and watched as the young maid backed out of the door and shut it behind her.

Her beautiful face impassive she glanced around. Large, it was sumptuously elegant with a huge bed on a raised dais as the main feature. She strolled across the mosaic floor and pushed open a door to a sybaritic bathroom, in black and gold, with a large circular spa bath, double shower, and marble and mirrored walls. It fitted the man, she thought idly, and re-entered the bedroom and crossed to the window that took the place of one wall. She slid it open and stepped out onto a long balcony. The air was hot and heavily scented after the coolness of the bedroom, and the view so spectacular she caught her breath.

A paved patio with a dolphin-shaped swimming pool as its centre led to a garden that was a riot of colour in the early evening sun, and gently sloped down to a low wall, and a sandy beach and the clear blue sea beyond. She glanced to one side and saw an orchard, a mass of orange and lemon trees, and in the distance she could see the small cluster of luxury villas. None so luxurious as this, she was sure, and one the scene of the drama five years ago that had led to the tragedy her life had become now, she thought bitterly. She looked in the opposite direction and her heart missed a beat. She recognised the cliff and the precarious path down to the hidden bay.

Abruptly, she turned back to the bedroom. Marcus had brought her to his home on Rykos… A house, he had told her on the flight across, he had designed and had built in the last couple of years. What he had not told her was it was in close proximity to the cliff and beach where he and Eloise had once shared a picnic.

Eloise had kept the memory of that one perfect day in her heart and head as a kind of talisman. In times of great pain and stress, she used to conjure up the bay in her mind, to blank the horror out. It was ironic that, after reading that hated name, Rick Pritchard, in the paper this morning and, rigid with shock, she needed her talisman view, and there it was before her very eyes—and it did not work any more.

The innocent nineteen-year-old had finally gone forever. Marcus had made sure of that; and, the truly sad part was, he had not even noticed…

METHODICALLY Eloise unpacked her clothes, placing them in the wardrobe and drawers provided in the dressing room, deliberately avoiding looking at the masses of male garments.

‘What on earth are you doing?’

On her knees, placing the last of her underclothes in a scented drawer, Eloise glanced up. Marcus was towering in the doorway, barefoot, and obviously paused in the process of undressing. The trousers of his suit were unfastened and hanging perilously on his lean hips. His shirt was open to the waist, revealing a hard, muscular chest shaded with black hair. He was a powerful, virile male, she thought almost objectively. Then she saw the expression on his darkly handsome face, one of arrogant astonishment.

He expected to be waited on hand and foot. He had probably dropped his shoes, jacket and tie in a trail across the bedroom floor, she guessed. ‘What’s it look like? I’m unpacking,’ she said facetiously. ‘It’s what we lesser mortals do.’

Hooded black eyes narrowed on hers. ‘I employ staff for such things.’

‘Yes, O lord and master,’ she muttered under her breath.

‘I heard that,’ Marcus drawled silkily. ‘And as long as you remember it, we’ll get along fine.’

He scanned her wide green eyes, anticipating her angry rebuttal, but surprisingly she simply said, ‘Okay,’ and stood up.

‘Wait.’ He caught her arm as she would have walked past him, inexplicably angered by her apparent indifference. ‘The staff are employed to take care of my guests; they are happy to have a job, and will be insulted if you do not use them.’ He sounded like a pompous prig, he knew, and the knowledge made him frown in self-disgust.

Eloise glanced at the hand on her bare arm, and up into his thunderously frowning face. ‘Yes…okay.’

Damn it. She was doing it again, with the okay, and he didn’t like it one bit. Thinking about it now, he realised she had been doing it ever since Katy had lent her voice to his, in persuading Eloise to agree to come to Greece with him. She had been the same on the plane.

His dark eyes narrowed intently on her lovely face for a long moment. But her usual brilliant green eyes returned his scrutiny expressionlessly; something was missing. He felt like shaking her. Instead, his hard features perceptibly darkened.

‘O…kay,’ he drawled cynically. ‘Now share a shower with me,’ he demanded with deliberate provocation, his fingers tightening on her arm.

Eloise was aware that Marcus was trying to rile her on purpose. Why, she had no idea. The only connection between them was sex, and from now on it was going to stay that way until their relationship had run to its natural conclusion, and without trust on either side that should not take too long. But for the moment she had to stay away from England; that was the most important thought in her head.

If she discovered she was unlucky enough to be pregnant, then all deals were off, KHE would have to get by without her, and she would be on her own. In the meantime, she would enjoy what Marcus offered. She could be as hard as a man, if she tried.

‘Yes, okay.’ She lifted her hand and placed it on his broad chest. ‘Whatever you say.’

Marcus made love to her hard and fast with the water cascading over their naked bodies, he felt her climax, her fingernails tearing into his back as they both reached shattering fulfilment at the same time.