Trish Morey - At His Revenge

The atmosphere in the room shifted.

When he was sure he had his reactions under control, he closed the file slowly and looked at her. ‘So your candles are called, Relax, Energise and Seduction?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And just how much,’ he asked slowly, ‘do you know about seduction?’

GREAT. Of all the questions to ask, he had to ask that one.

Not market share or growth forecasts—seduction.

Selene maintained the smile she’d been practising—her business smile—while her brain raced around in crazy circles getting nowhere.

What did she know about seduction? Nothing. Nor was it a skill she was ever likely to need unless her life changed radically. What she did know was that without his help she’d never get her mother away from the island. It was up to her to prove she had a viable business. ‘What do I know about seduction? Not a lot. But you know what they say—you don’t have to travel the world to teach geography.’

She didn’t add that she had her imagination and that was already working overtime.

She’d often wondered if her teenage brain had exaggerated his appeal or whether her own misery that night, together with his kindness, had somehow mingled together to create a god from a man. But he was as gorgeous as she remembered—power, strength and raw virility merged together in a muscle-packed masculine frame that made her feel dizzy with thoughts she couldn’t seem to control.

Physically he was imposing, but it wasn’t his impressive height or the width of those shoulders that shook her. It was something less easily defined. A hint of danger—the sense that underneath that beautifully cut suit and the external trappings of success lurked a man who wielded more power than even her father.

Flustered, Selene tried to remember the way he’d been on that night five years earlier, but it was almost impossible to equate that kind stranger with this cool, sophisticated businessman standing in front of her.

And the fact that he was flicking through her amateurish document so quickly left her squirming with embarrassment. He barely took any time as he glanced at each page, nothing in his face giving a hint as to his thoughts. Clearly he thought it was rubbish.

Her mother was right. He was never going to help her.

He was right at the top of his game, a busy man with huge demands on his time. According to her research, thousands of people approached his company every year for business advice and he helped less than a handful of people.

While she waited for him to comment she sipped the lemonade but after a couple of minutes of squirming in her seat restraint left her. ‘So tell me honestly—’ Is it a crappy idea? God, no, she couldn’t say that. ‘Er—do you see this as an investment opportunity?’ She felt like such a fraud. A total impostor, just waiting for him to laugh her out of his office. It must have been obvious to him that she’d never had a business meeting with anyone except her own reflection.

He closed the file, then turned to put it on his desk. His tailored shirt pulled across his wide shoulders, emphasising hard muscle, and her heart started to thud.

She dreamed about him all the time. Had thought about him almost every hour since that night.

‘Selene?’

His voice was gentle and she looked at him, startled and embarrassed to have let her concentration lapse.

‘Yes. I’m listening.’

The look in his eyes told her he was skilled at reading minds and hers was probably the easiest he’d ever read.

Suddenly her mouth felt as if she hadn’t touched liquid for a week.

If he guessed how she felt about him she’d die on the spot.

Her trawl of the internet had revealed a lot about his relationship with women and every scandalous story had made her heart beat just a little bit faster because they spoke of a life so far removed from hers that it was like listening to a fairy story. Glittering parties. Opening nights. Opera. Ballet. Film premieres. The list was endless, as were the names of the beautiful women he’d paraded on his arm at one time or another, and it was all she could think about now as she stared at him, waiting for his answer.

‘These candles—do you have a sample?’

‘Yes.’ She fumbled in her bag, trying to ignore the nerves fluttering low in her belly. It was as if just being in the same room as him had somehow triggered all the alarms in her body. The attraction was so shockingly powerful it knocked her off-balance. She definitely needed to get out more. This was what happened when a father locked a daughter away. She’d turned into a raging nymphomaniac. Stefan Ziakas was going to be lucky to escape with his clothes still on.

Disconcerted, she glanced at him but that turned out to be a bigger mistake. Thick, inky lashes highlighted eyes of molten gold and his mouth was a slim, sensual line in a face sculpted by the devil to tempt women to the dark side.

Selene was unsettled by just how desperately she wanted to be taken to the dark side.

‘I know this business idea has potential.’ She was brisk and businesslike and hoped he wouldn’t guess that she’d practised this a hundred times in the mirror. ‘I have some packaging samples, but they might need to be adapted. We live in a fast-paced, stressful world. Scented candles are an affordable luxury and I’m not the only one who thinks so. The market is currently growing at forty percent.’

His mouth was such a perfect shape, she thought. She’d noticed the same thing that night on the boat as she’d stared and stared at him, willing him to kiss her. There had been a few breathless moments when she’d thought he might do just that but he hadn’t, so clearly it had just been wishful thinking on her part.

Leaning forward, he extracted the candle from her grip and turned it in his fingers. ‘You’re expecting me to believe that this is the next big thing?’

‘Why not? Don’t you like candles?’

A smile played around that sexy mouth. ‘You want an honest answer?’

She remembered that this was a business meeting. That she was a businesswoman. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘I’m a man. The only reason a man is ever going to like candles is if there is a power cut and the generator fails, or if he finds himself dining with a woman who is ugly.’

And she was willing to bet he never found himself in that position. ‘But candles are about so much more than romantic lighting in a restaurant.’ She tried not to think about him dining with a beautiful woman. ‘The one I’ve named Seduction is scented with lotus blossom and it creates the perfect atmosphere for—for—’

‘For?’

His eyes gleamed and she had a strong suspicion he was laughing at her. ‘Seduction,’ she said lamely, suddenly wishing she’d called it something else.

‘And you know that because …?’

His voice was disturbingly soft and the laughter had gone from his eyes. Now his gaze was intense— serious— and Selene felt as if she’d been seared by the flame of a blowtorch.

‘Because people have told me that’s the case.’

‘But you’ve never tried it yourself.’ It was a statement, not a question, and she felt her face burn along with her body.

She wished he’d stuck to a conversation about market share and forecasts. ‘I’ve tried Relax and Energise.’

‘So no market research on Seduction?’

‘Yes, just not—personal research.’

There was a long, pulsing silence and then he put the candle down and leaned his hips on the desk, the movement of his trousers revealing expensive polished shoes. ‘Let me tell you something about seduction, Selene.’ His voice was more seductive than a thousand scented candles. ‘To you it’s just a word, but it’s so much more than that. Seduction is about tempting, enticing and persuading until you’ve driven someone mad with need. Yes, scent is important, but not the artificial scent of a candle—it’s the individual scent of the person you’re with, and it’s not just scent but scent combined with touch and sound.’