Annie West - The Savakis Mistress

His fist smashed down on the desk but Callie didn’t even blink. ‘It wasn’t stealing. It was a temporary redistribution of funds. You wouldn’t understand—’

‘I understand you’re a thief,’ she said, holding his gaze till he looked away. ‘As my trustee you were supposed to behave legally and ethically.’

Callie battled rising fury. She was tempted to report him to the authorities, now, tonight. To see just one of the men who’d used her for their own purposes brought to book.

But the thought of her cousin and her dear aunt stopped her. Justice would hurt them and it wouldn’t get her inheritance back.

‘The money will be available soon.’ His voice was as close to pleading as she’d ever heard it. ‘With interest. When this deal goes through.’

‘You’re expecting Damon Savakis to bail you out of strife?’ Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her. ‘His reputation is formidable— as a winner, not for compassion to rivals. He has no interest in helping you.’

‘But we won’t be rivals.’ Aristides leaned forward, his plump hands splayed on the polished wood. ‘If my plans go as I expect, Damon Savakis will be more than a business associate. He’ll be a member of the family.’

* * *

The sound of voices at the poolside stopped Callie in her tracks. Her cousin Angela and Damon Savakis. No other man could unsettle Callie with the low rumble of his laughter. His deep tones made something shiver into life in the pit of her stomach.

Only yesterday, with her face pressed to his broad chest, she’d felt his lazy amusement bubble up and emerge as a deep chocolate caress of sound. Through a haze of sensual satiation it had made her feel vibrantly alive.

Her fingers clenched as desire pulsed again.

She was a fool. He’d used her for cheap amusement in the most calculating way. She’d taken him at face value, believing he, like she, had been blown away by an attraction too strong to be denied.

She suspected with Damon Savakis nothing would ever be simple.

His behaviour last night punctured that foolish daydream. He’d found her amusing. Her confusion and distress had added spice to the evening. How piquant, having his lover and soon-to-be-fiancée together.

She knew his reputation for meticulous attention to detail. Impossible that he hadn’t known who she was on the beach. Members of the Manolis family would have been basic research.

But he’d kept his identity a secret, enjoying the joke on her. Seducing the woman dubbed the Snow Queen must have been diverting to an appetite jaded by over-eager women. Watching her squirm last night had been a bonus to a man who revelled in power.

The sort of man she detested.

She straightened her shoulders.

‘Good morning, Angela. Kyrie Savakis.’ She bestowed a brief smile as she approached the table where she and Angela often shared a meal. No chance now of a private chat. They’d missed their opportunity last night when Uncle Aristides called her to him. Afterwards Callie hadn’t found Angela. She hated to think of her alone and distressed.

‘Sorry I’m late. I didn’t realise we had a guest.’

‘Kyrios Savakis is staying with us for a few days,’ Angela said quietly, sending a shiver of apprehension down Callie’s spine.

A few days! This got worse and worse.

‘He arrived for breakfast.’ Angela sounded calm and relaxed, a perfect hostess. Only someone who knew her well would realise her discomfort, her fingers busy pleating the linen tablecloth, her body a fraction too poised.

Callie’s heart stalled as guilt smote her. She hadn’t thought of her poor, shy cousin acting as hostess alone. She’d slept late after a night grappling with what her uncle had conceded about their bleak financial situation. Reliving the horror of discovering Damon’s identity and true character.

‘Your uncle kindly invited me to sample more of your hospitality,’ a deep voice murmured from across the table.

Did she imagine a wry emphasis on the last two words? As if he referred to a service she might personally provide?

He couldn’t be so crass. Could he?

Slowly Callie turned to face him, ignoring the escalating thud of her pulse.

He looked disgustingly self-satisfied. Like a man whose appetites had been sated. Callie was horrified at the drift of her thoughts. She forced a smile to her lips, hiding her shudder of reaction as she drank in the sight of him.

Despite her anger, he looked good enough to eat.

If you had a taste for danger.

He wore a white shirt open at the throat, designer jeans and an expression that proclaimed him utterly at home as he leaned back in his seat.

‘I was about to show Kyrie Savakis the guest bungalow,’ Angela explained.

The guest bungalow? Thank heaven. At least they wouldn’t share a house.

‘Please, call me Damon. Kyrie Savakis makes me feel like I belong to your father’s generation. There’s no need for formality.’

But there is, Callie thought, sliding a glance at Angela.

Even after a night coming to grips with her uncle’s outrageous plot, Callie couldn’t suppress horror at how history repeated itself so appallingly. Her skin crawled. It was a nightmare that he’d use such a scheme a second time.

‘Thank you, Damon. Please call me Angela.’

‘Angela.’ He bestowed a brief smile then turned to spear Callie with his dark, questioning gaze.

‘Technically speaking, you do belong to another generation.’ Callie said before he could speak to her. ‘You’re in your late thirties, aren’t you? Angela is just eighteen.’

Dark brows inched together, then his lips quirked in what looked suspiciously like humour rather than annoyance. ‘I’m thirty-four, since you’re wondering,’ he murmured.

‘Really? So—er—young?’ Callie arched her brows as if in surprise. She knew when he was born. She’d looked him up on the net last night. He was too old for Angela. As well as the years between them, there was a gulf of experience and expectation that would never be breached. Callie knew it from bitter personal experience.

‘Old enough to know my mind, Callie.’ The sound of her name on his lips sent a shock wave trembling through her, like the silent aftermath of a sensory explosion. ‘May I call you Callie? Or would you prefer Callista?’

She’d prefer neither. Both were far too intimate, especially when he used that smoke and velvet tone guaranteed to seduce a woman out of her senses in thirty seconds flat.

Yesterday just the sound of his voice and the slumberous promise in his eyes had her eager for his touch.

‘I…’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to use her full name, when she caught Angela’s anxious gaze. ‘Of course, call me Callie.’

She was only Callista to her uncle, who managed to invest the syllables with disappointment and disapproval.

‘Thank you, Callie.’ His ebony eyes gleamed with a light she couldn’t interpret. His expression sent awareness tingling through her blood. It took a moment for her to realise Angela had turned to talk to one of the staff.

‘Would you excuse me?’ She rose from her seat. ‘There’s a phone call I need to take.’

Callie saw the blush on Angela’s cheeks and knew Niko must have rung. The son of a local doctor, he’d loved Angela for years. He was building his tourism business, hoping to win Uncle Aristides’ approval for their marriage.

Callie knew better than anyone Aristides would never countenance his daughter marrying a local boy, no matter how decent or how much in love they were. Money and status were what mattered to her uncle.

Her gaze shifted to Damon Savakis, lolling in his seat sipping coffee. She felt anxiety shimmy down her spine, knowing what Aristides planned for his daughter.