Chantelle Shaw - Proof Of Their Forbidden Night

He was unashamedly masculine and she remembered how his body had felt as hard as steel when he’d trapped her up against the balustrade on the terrace with a muscular thigh. His olive-toned skin gleamed like bronze in the brightly lit room, and when he raked his hand carelessly through his dark hair her fingers itched to do the same.

Isla had never been this fascinated by a member of the opposite sex before. She had dated a few guys at university but was wary of being hurt and she’d never felt a desire for any of those relationships to progress as far as the bedroom, which was why she couldn’t understand her response to Andreas. She did not like him and certainly didn’t trust him, so why did he make her senses sing and bring her body to urgent life?

She had the unenviable title of the world’s oldest virgin, Isla thought wryly. Although she doubted that Andreas would believe it. His cynical expression when he’d seen the sparkling diamond ring on her finger indicated that he was convinced she had used her feminine wiles to captivate his billionaire father.

ANDREAS’S FEET POUNDED on the sand where the waves rippled against the shore. The sun was climbing high in the sky and the temperature was already soaring. Usually he went for a run at the break of dawn when the day was fresh and full of possibilities. But he had woken late after a restless night. Sleep had eluded him for hours as he’d struggled to understand his behaviour the previous evening when he’d followed Isla out onto the terrace and been tempted to kiss her.

Theos , she had made him shake like a teenager at the mercy of his hormones. The chemistry between them had been almost tangible and if she hadn’t pushed him away he doubted he would have been able to resist her. But the realisation that he could have been caught in a compromising situation with his father’s fiancée had filled him with self-loathing. Even more incomprehensible was the fact that Isla had threatened his self-control with her mix of sensuality and innocence, which couldn’t be real, he told himself.

He was convinced that Isla was a gold-digger. Andreas had learned from bitter personal experience that some women had no scruples and would do anything to get their hands on the Karelis fortune. His mouth thinned as he remembered the lies that an ex-girlfriend, Sadie, had told the media about him after he’d seen through her attempt to deceive him. He should have realised sooner that Sadie had been more interested in his bank balance than him. He would bet his entire fortune that Isla was attracted to his elderly father’s wealth. Her air of vulnerability, which evoked a protective instinct in Andreas he hadn’t known he possessed, was no doubt part of her clever act, he thought grimly.

He ran faster, pushing himself until his lungs burned. But when he reached the end of the bay—after passing the old fisherman’s cottage that he’d turned into his private bolthole—and climbed the headland of volcanic rock, he barely noticed the stunning view of the crystalline turquoise sea. Instead he visualised Isla in her sexy red dress and remembered how soft her body had felt against his when she’d brushed past him on the terrace.

She had insisted that she loved Stelios. Of course she was bound to say that, Andreas brooded. But, for all his cynicism, he could not deny that there had been genuine emotion in her voice. Another thing which had thrown him was learning that she was highly educated and worked in a goddamn museum. If she had been an airhead it would be easier to dismiss her relationship with his father. Isla Stanford was an enigma. Andreas did not know what to make of her and it irritated the hell out of him.

On his way back to the villa his phone rang. ‘You are sure about this?’ he questioned the security officer who he’d asked to look into Isla’s background. ‘I see. That’s very interesting. Keep digging, Theo.’

His father and Isla were sitting at the breakfast table on the terrace which overlooked the infinity pool. Andreas hoped to slip unnoticed into the house, but Stelios waved to him and with a faint sigh he walked towards the table.

‘ Kalimera , Papa, Isla,’ he murmured in greeting. The thought briefly crossed his mind that his father looked thinner than when he’d seen him in London a month ago. But his gaze was drawn to Isla and he forgot everything else.

In contrast to the sex-bomb image she’d projected last night, this morning she looked as pure as the driven snow in a pale lemon sundress with narrow straps that revealed her delicate shoulders. It was the first time Andreas had seen her hair loose and he wished he could run his fingers through the mass of honey-gold silk that tumbled in soft waves down her back.

Frustration darkened his mood. His fascination with Isla was something he’d never experienced before. Women came and went in his life without making any impact on him. He enjoyed their company as long as it was on his terms and he liked sex uncomplicated by commitment. Perhaps he wanted Isla so badly because she was off limits, he derided himself. For a man who had discovered while he was still a teenager that he could have any woman he wanted with the minimum of effort on his part, the fact that she was unobtainable made her exciting.

But maybe the reason why his heart jolted against his ribs when he met her cool grey gaze was simply that Isla was breathtakingly lovely. Tearing his gaze from her, Andreas glanced at the pile of newspapers on the table. Most of the European tabloids carried a photo on the front page of Stelios looking into the eyes of his new fiancée while he pressed his lips against the enormous diamond on her finger.

Andreas had woken to the storm on social media created by his father’s marriage plans. The announcement had resulted in a spike in Karelis Corp’s share price on the stock market. Investors liked strong company leaders, and presumably the news that Stelios was planning to marry a woman decades younger than him proved that the old man was still a force to be reckoned with, Andreas thought sardonically.

‘I am surprised that you decided to make a public statement about your engagement, Papa. You have previously been critical whenever my name has made the headlines.’

Stelios’s lips thinned. ‘A kiss-and-tell story by one of your disgruntled ex-lovers in a downmarket rag is not the same thing as an announcement about my future plans to the media.’

Andreas was genuinely curious. ‘You have always kept your personal life separate from business but I understand that you invited journalists into the boardroom of Karelis Corp to make your announcement. I am merely pointing out that it is not like you to court the paparazzi.’

Was it his imagination or did Stelios seem relieved when the conversation was curtailed by the arrival of the butler bearing a jug of coffee? Moments later, Dinos’s wife Toula, who had worked as the family’s cook at the villa for as long as Andreas could remember, bustled across the terrace carrying a plate with his favourite breakfast of spinach and feta wrapped in filo pastry. He was fond of the couple, who had taken care of him when he was a boy and had been sent to stay on Louloudi in the school holidays because his mother had preferred him to be out of the way.

‘I am happy that you no longer race your big motorbike,’ Toula told him after they had exchanged greetings. She glanced heavenwards. ‘Always I used to pray that you would be safe. When you had your accident I was so worried about you.’

‘As you can see, I am fully recovered,’ Andreas reassured her, automatically rubbing his hand over the long scar on his chest that was hidden beneath his running vest. The loss of his racing career was still painful and the scar was an ugly reminder of the accident during a race two years ago in which he’d suffered a ruptured aorta that had almost proved fatal.