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

Angel might have laughed at that if she hadn’t known that she would be in danger of it turning to tears. She wouldn’t be free to live her life now until Leo had decided he’d had enough of her. Her only hope was that her woeful inexperience would be enough of a turn-off for him that he would be content to use her like some kind of trophy mistress until he deemed she’d paid her dues.

But why, when she thought of that, did her womb contract with what felt like disappointment? Angel quashed that thought down ruthlessly. Her mind was just playing tricks. She’d just made a call to the hotel where she’d worked and resigned her job; there was nothing left to do. She took a deep breath and picked up her small case. It was time to go.

‘Won’t your father be here at the villa too?’

Leo had led Angel into a palatial bedroom, the sheer understated luxury of which had made her eyes goggle. Her father’s taste had always been seriously lacking, he being the kind of person who believed trappings like gold taps were the sign of a rich man.

Leo was in the act of showing Angel where a door connected with his room, and she’d blurted out the question as much to disguise her panic as anything else. Now he turned and leaned nonchalantly against the doorjamb.

In the few hours since she’d left the villa and returned, she was disgusted to see that Leo looked as if he’d had a full night’s sleep and was as rested and vibrant as anyone had a right to be. She felt sticky all over, with gritty eyes, and still dazed from everything that had happened.

The rumble of his voice brought her back. ‘My father is staying on the island indefinitely. His doctors have advised no stress, and Athens means stress because he’s incapable of staying away from work. Even now.’

Angel winced at the bitter edge to Leo’s voice, and was reminded uncomfortably of what he’d revealed about their relationship. Irrational guilt assailed her. She could say nothing to that; any murmur of sympathy or empathy would be shot down in an instant. Anyway, Leo was ignoring her, revealing another room.

Angel had seen the en-suite bathroom, as big as her bedroom at home, and now Leo was pointing to an empty walk-in wardrobe. She came closer and looked in warily.

Leo sent a cursory look up and down her body and Angel fought not to cringe. She was still in the same clothes.

‘I’ll have a stylist come to consult with you tomorrow, and sort out a full wardrobe. We can’t have you looking anything less than a bought woman from now on, can we?’

Angel caught a flash of the huge bed she’d been ignoring in her peripheral vision and it scared her silly, making her say flippantly, ‘Knock yourself out. Fill that wardrobe and I’ll be only too happy to act out the part.’

He pushed himself off the door, coming close enough to have Angel’s panic and pulse zoom skywards. He smiled lazily. Cynically.

‘I don’t think it’ll take too much acting. Your Skittishness is intriguing me. I would have expected you to be ecstatic that I’ve chosen you as my mistress. You forget that I come from New York … the natural habitat of the mercenary, gold-digging socialite. Your black soul won’t surprise me, really.’

Angel searched for words, but to her chagrin couldn’t get them out in time. To her consternation, Leo merely looked at his watch then, and said crisply, ‘I have to go to the office. Why don’t you get some rest? You look tired.’

And then he was gone, and she was alone. Angel walked into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She didn’t just look tired. She looked shell-shocked. Feeling incredibly weary, and more than a little numb, she stripped off and stood under a steaming hot shower for a long time.

And then she got out, dried her hair, shut the curtains, crawled into the softest bed she’d ever felt, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

The first thing Angel knew was a gentle rocking. And then a voice. A deep, soulful voice that she found herself instinctively turning to. She smiled. The rocking became more forceful, and so did the voice.

‘Angel.’

She wasn’t dreaming. In an instant she was awake. Wide awake. Looking up with big eyes at Leonidas Parnassus, who was far too close to her, sitting on the bed, his face inscrutable. It all rushed back. She wasn’t in her own bed; she was in his home and had agreed to become his mistress.

Angel grabbed for the sheet and pulled it up, even though she was dressed in pants and a vest. She scrabbled back as far as she could go, away from him. She felt exposed at having been caught sleeping. How long had he been there?

Leo stood up from the bed and Angel asked huskily, ‘What time is it?’

He consulted his watch. ‘It’s 8:00 p.m.’

Angel sat up in shock, still holding the sheet. ‘I’ve been asleep all day ?’

Leo nodded and went over to pull the curtains back, so Angel could see the sun starting to set in the sky. She felt completely disorientated—jet-lagged, almost. Leo started to walk out of the room, barely glancing at Angel now. ‘Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

While he waited for Angel, Leo stood at the huge French windows of the less formal dining room. The doors were opened out onto the terrace—the same terrace he’d brought Angel out to on the night of the party. He could scarcely fathom that he’d been in Athens for barely twenty-four hours and already had Angel in his home. Yet bizarrely it felt right.

Just now, when he’d woken her, he’d seen something that had reminded him of that first evening they’d met. For a moment before she’d woken she’d almost turned to him, with a soft smile around her mouth, and that enticing beauty spot at the corner of her lip had made him want to bend down and kiss it. Made him want to do so much more. When she’d opened her eyes, though, he’d noticed slight shadows still lingering.

Her hair had been sleep-mussed, tangled over one bare shoulder, where the strap of her vest had fallen down. She’d looked incredibly sexy, yet unbelievably vulnerable, and he had felt a niggle of unease at how quickly things had progressed from him finding her creeping through the villa. He’d pushed the unease aside. Even those three hours waiting for her to return had been torturous. He’d actually been nervous that she wouldn’t return. That, despite everything he had on her, she would defy him. Leo noticed his hands had gone into fists now, just thinking about it. He forced them to uncurl.

He thought of how she’d looked when she’d returned, with shadows like bruises under her eyes …

She’d come into his family home to steal from them.

With more effort than he liked to admit, Leo pushed down the concern. A tight coil of desire held him in its grip. Tonight he’d have her, and he’d no doubt that within a very short space of time she’d prove to be as dismayingly predictable as every other woman he’d ever met, ultimately using emotion arising from intimacy, thinking that she could manipulate him.

He heard a noise at the door and turned around slowly. It was time for Angel to face the consequences of her actions.

Angel’s skin prickled when she was shown into a dining room by a smiling housekeeper and saw Leo standing with his back to her. The windows were open and the curtains fluttered on the breeze. She had no idea how to act in this situation. No idea what was expected of her. She felt acutely lonely all of a sudden.

Leo turned around slowly, and the impact on her senses was nothing short of cataclysmic. She’d not really noticed what he was wearing in her room; she’d been too shocked and groggy. But now she saw that he was dressed in a pair of lovingly worn and faded jeans, which clung to him like a second skin. The material stretched over powerful thighs and long, long legs.