Abby Green - When Christakos Meets His Match

This was the kind of desire he’d missed for so long.

Urgent and hot. Utterly compelling. As if he couldn’t envisage getting off this plane and not taking Sidonie with him so that he could taste her all over.

‘Er … excuse me, Mr Christakos?’

He looked up and there she was. Just like that any semblance of clear-headedness was gone and he was reduced to animal lust again. He had to get up and let her back in, cursing his body which would not obey his head.

One thing he was sure of as she brushed past him in the small space and her scent tantalised him: he wanted this Sidonie Fitzgerald with a hunger he’d not known before. And he would have her. Because Alexio Christakos always got what he wanted.

BLOOD BROTHERS

Power and passion run in their veins

Rafaele and Alexio have learned that to feel emotion is to be weak. Calculated ruthlessness brings them immense success in the boardroom and in the bedroom. But a storm is coming with the sudden appearance of a long-lost half-brother, Cesar, and three women who will change their lives for ever …

Read Rafaele Falcone’s story in:

WHEN FALCONE’S WORLD STOPS TURNING

February 2014

Only one woman has come close to touching this brooding Italian’s cold heart, and he intends to have her once more. But Samantha Rourke has a secret that will rock his world in a very different way …

Read Alexio Christakos’s story in:

WHEN CHRISTAKOS MEETS HIS MATCH

April 2014

His legendary Greek charm can get him any woman he wants—and he wants Sidonie Fitzgerald for one, hot night. But when that night isn’t enough will he regret breaking his own rules?

And read Cesar Da Silva’s story in:

WHEN DA SILVA BREAKS THE RULES

June 2014

The prodigal son is tormented by his dark past.

Can one woman save this Spanish billionaire’s tortured soul, or is he beyond redemption?

When Christakos Meets His Match

Abby Green

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABBY GREENspent her teens reading Mills and Boon® romances. After repeatedly deferring a degree to study Social Anthropology (long story …) she ended up working for many years in the film and TV Industry as an assistant director.

One day, while standing outside an actor’s trailer, waiting for him to emerge, in the rain, holding an umbrella in gale force winds, she thought to herself, Surely there’s more than this—and it involves being inside and dry?

Thinking of her love for Mills and Boon, and encouraged by a friend, Abby decided to submit a partial manuscript. After numerous rewrites, chucking out the original idea and starting again with a new story, her first book was accepted and an author was born.

She is happy to report that days of standing in the rain outside an actor’s trailer are a rare occurrence now. She loves creating stories that will put you through an emotional wringer (in a good way, hopefully), yet leave you feeling satisfied and uplifted.

She lives in Dublin, Ireland, and you can find out more about her and her books here: www.abby-green.com

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Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EXTRACT

PROLOGUE

ALEXIO CHRISTAKOS HAD always known his mother had had affairs all through her marriage to his father. He just hadn’t expected to see such a public display of it at her funeral. Her coffin was strewn with lone flowers and there were displays of wet eyes from a handful of men he’d never met before in his life.

His father had stomped away with a glower on his face a short while before. He couldn’t exactly claim the moral high ground as he too had had numerous affairs.

It had been a constant war of attrition between them. His father always seeking to make his mother as jealous as he felt. And she...? Alexio had the feeling that nothing would have ever made her truly happy, even though she had lived her life in the lap of luxury, surrounded by people to cater to her every whim.

She’d had a sadness, a deep melancholy about her, and they’d never been emotionally close. A vivid memory assailed him at that moment—a memory he hadn’t allowed to surface for a long time. He’d been about nine, and his throat had ached with the effort it had taken not to cry. He’d just witnessed his parents having a bitter row.

His mother had caught him standing behind the door and he’d blurted out, ‘Why do you hate each other so much? Why can’t you be in love like you’re supposed to be?’

She’d looked at him coldly and the lack of emotion in her eyes had made him shiver. She’d bent down to his level and taken his chin in her hand. ‘Love’s a fairytale, Alexio, and it doesn’t exist. Remember this: I married your father because he could give me what I needed. That’s what is important. Success. Security. Power. Don’t ever concern yourself with emotions. They make you weak. Especially love.’

Alexio would never forget the excoriating feeling of exposure and shame in that moment...

He felt a hand on his shoulder then and looked to his older half-brother, Rafaele, who stood beside him and smiled tightly. They’d always shared the same conflicted relationship with their mother. Rafaele’s Italian father had gone to pieces after their mother had walked out on him when he had lost his entire fortune—an unpalatable reminder of their mother’s ruthless nature so soon after that disturbing childhood memory of his own.

For years Alexio and his brother had communicated with habitual boyish rough-housing and rivalry, but since Rafaele had left home to make his way when Alexio had been about fourteen their relationship had become less fractious. Even if Alexio had never quite been able to let go of his envy that Rafaele hadn’t had to endure the almost suffocating attention he’d received from his father. The heavy weight of expectation. The disappointment when Alexio had been determined to prove himself and not accept his inheritance.

They turned to walk away from the grave, engrossed in their own thoughts. They were of a similar build and height, both a few inches over six feet, drop-dead gorgeous, dark-haired. Alexio’s hair was darker, cut close to his skull. Their mother had bequeathed to them both her distinctive green eyes, but Alexio’s were lighter—more golden.

When they came to a stop near the cars Alexio decided to rib his brother gently, seeking to assuage the suddenly bleak feeling inside him. He observed his brother’s stubbled jaw. ‘You couldn’t even clean up for the funeral?’

‘I got out of bed too late,’ Rafaele drawled with a glint in his eye.