Natalie Anderson - Exotic Nights - The Virgin's Secret / The Devil's Heart / Pleasured in the Playboy's Penthouse

Angel’s breath stopped. She tried to pull back, but he was too strong. Finally he let her finger go and said tersely, while inspecting it again, ‘I want to make sure there’s no glass in it. It’s a deep cut, but I don’t think you need stitches.’

Thoroughly bemused, and feeling as if reality as she knew it had morphed out of all existence, Angel watched as Leo expertly and gently cleaned the cut and placed a tight plaster around the top of her finger.

Then, just as perfunctorily, he led the way back downstairs, this time into a drawing room adjacent to the other side of the hall. She saw someone scurrying out of the study with a dustpan and brush. Leo let go of her hand and Angel scooted over beside a couch, sitting gingerly on the edge because she didn’t think she could stand.

Leo poured a measure of something dark and golden— like his eyes —into a glass and brought it over. His mouth was set in a grim line. Angel accepted it with both hands, while avoiding his eyes. She didn’t drink much alcohol at all, but right now she welcomed the prospect of its numbing quality.

LEO watched Angel take the glass in both hands, a curiously child-like gesture that made something in his chest twist. He wanted to wring her pretty neck. But he also wanted to flatten her back against the couch and finish what they’d started in the study. He could still remember how it had felt to roll his tongue over her small tight nipple, the way she’d arched into him, and he had to use iron will right now to control the rush of response.

He had not meant to ravish Angel standing in the study like that. The impulse to kiss her had been born out of his inarticulate rage that she had such a visceral effect on him, especially when he knew exactly who and what she was. But the kiss had got out of control very quickly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so consumed, to the extent that he’d shut out every clamouring voice in his head. Until she’d said Leo with that husky catch, and her hips had jerked against his hand, and he’d emerged from what had felt like a trance.

He’d touched down in Athens barely three hours ago and was still reeling slightly at facing the reality that he’d willingly upended his life. Feeling acutely vulnerable again , Leo turned and strode back to the sideboard, to pour himself a drink and try and gather his scattered thoughts. They’d scattered as soon as he’d taken the call from the security guard and seen who was at the gate. For a disturbing second he’d almost believed he was imagining her.

And yet he couldn’t deny that he’d felt a rush of pure sensual excitement at seeing Angel approaching the house. It had eclipsed the disappointment he’d felt that her effect on him hadn’t grown less in the interim.

Her guilt had been obvious from the moment she’d gone straight to the kitchen entrance rather than come to the main door. And then, when he’d seen her creeping through the house like the little thief she was, something hard had solidified in his chest.

He hated to admit it but he had thought that perhaps he’d judged her too swiftly. Seeing the evidence of her avarice in front of his eyes tonight had made a fool of him again. She was no innocent. Hadn’t years of witnessing hardened New York socialites in action taught him anything?

As he poured himself a drink now, and threw it back in one gulp, he told himself that his decision to come home and the speed with which it had been expedited had absolutely nothing to do with the woman sitting on the couch behind him. He knew exactly how he was going to deal with her and get her out of his system, so that he could get on with his new life here in Athens.

Angel sat on the couch, cradling her glass, and felt as if she was waiting to hear a sentence pronounced. Leo kept his broad back turned to her for long moments, and the tension in her body was beginning to ratchet up, despite the calming effects of the alcohol.

Eventually he turned around, and Angel almost breathed a sigh of relief. Leo’s face was stark, unreadable. Not once had he cracked a smile, shown a glimmer of humanity … apart from when he’d tended her cut. Angel remembered the way he’d sucked her finger into his mouth and quivered deep in her belly.

She swallowed. She thought of how his lazy, easy American accent had made her assume he was just one of the guests at the villa that night … She’d never have suspected she’d ever hear the steel running underneath the velvet caress of that voice. But he was Leonidas Parnassus. Practically the uncrowned King of Athens. And she was his bitter enemy. Even more so now.

There was a final reckoning to be had between their families, and Angel was very afraid this was going to be it. She tried to force the fear down—after all, what else could happen to them now? She thought of Delphi then, and felt slightly sick.

Leo came over and took a seat on the couch opposite Angel. He sat back and crossed one ankle over one knee. He spread a hand out across the back of the seat, making the material of his shirt stretch enticingly across his chest. It was a dominantly masculine pose. Angel could feel her face heat up and willed it down.

‘Why did you come here the night of the party?’

Angel couldn’t believe it. Weariness tinged her voice. ‘I already told you. I had no idea where we were headed. I couldn’t have just walked out; I would have lost my job on the spot.’

‘But you lost that job anyway,’ he pointed out silkily.

Angel held in a gasp. How did he know that? Not that it would have taken a rocket scientist to deduce that her behaviour that night might result in that. Did he know that she’d been working as a chambermaid in the plush Grand Bretagne Hotel since then, and was doing regular double shifts? No doubt he’d love to know that she’d felt compelled to find jobs in areas where her name would require the minimum amount of investigation. She’d been conscious of Delphi still being in college, and had not wanted to draw any potential press attention by going for something more high-profile, only to get knocked back because of their name. Humiliation was becoming annoyingly familiar in this man’s presence.

Leo took a sip of the drink he’d carried over. ‘My picture was splashed all over the papers here the week I arrived. Your father has been scrabbling around like a rat in a sinking ship looking for someone to rescue him—and you expect me to believe that you saw me at the pool-side that night and had no idea who I was?’

She shook her head. She truly hadn’t known, having instinctively shied away from reading anything about the Parnassus family and their triumphant return. It had been too close to the bone on so many different levels. Also, she’d been preoccupied with her sister’s news.

Angel sat forward, hands clenched around the glass. From somewhere deep and protecting came a dart of anger at his high-handed arrogance, at how threatened he made her feel. ‘Believe it or not, I had no idea. Aren’t you satisfied that your family has done its level best to ruin mine?’

Leo let out a short, sharp laugh, making Angel flinch. ‘I fail to see where the satisfaction comes when it’s clear, based on the evidence tonight—which, I might add, is recorded on CCTV—that you are intent on re-igniting this feud. No doubt you have something to gain from it—most people would have moved on from the drama of the Parnassus family coming home.’

He sat forward then too, his eyes flashing sparks. Angel wanted to cower back, but held strong and cursed herself for provoking him. For a moment she’d forgotten all about why she was here in the first place. He scrambled her brain that much.