Heiress's Defiance (12 page)

T
HIS TIME WHEN
Lucilla woke, she was not alone. Christos lay beside her, his big body stretched out, an arm above his head as he lay on his stomach. Sometime in the night, one of them had thrown the covers off. She propped herself on an elbow and studied the strong lines of his shoulders and the total perfection of his features where his face turned toward her.

There was a pinch in her heart that was not characteristic as she looked at him. Somewhere in the night, her world had shifted on its axis—and everything became sharper and clearer than before, as if she’d been viewing the world through the wrong magnification and someone had turned the dials.

She didn’t want to analyze the warm, possessive feelings flooding through her as she looked at him, or the wave of sympathy as she thought of him in the cemetery. She sat up
and looked closely at his back, at the web of his scars where they crossed and recrossed, weaving a tapestry of pain.

“What are you doing,
agapi mou?
”

She started, her skin tingling with heat that he’d caught her. There was nothing for it but to confess. “I’m looking at your back, Christos.”

He rolled over and put both hands behind his head. He was gloriously, beautifully naked—and this was the first time she’d seen him that way in full daylight. His thick shaft lay against his leg—and it was beginning to stir. Her belly churned with fresh butterflies.

“I have something you can look at,” he said, and her eyes whipped to his to find him grinning lazily.

“I like looking at all of you.”

He grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, until they were pressed full length against each other. Oh, the heat of his skin on hers was marvelous. Decadent. Had she ever been this casual with another lover?

“And I like
feeling
all of you,” he told her, his voice making her tingle in all the right places.

She lifted her hand and pushed hair back from his forehead. His eyes were hooded as he watched her and she couldn’t make out
what he felt—other than lust, which was patently obvious the way his penis kept growing against her abdomen.

“I want to know what happened to you,” she whispered, and his eyes shuttered. Just like that, all the warmth left them and she knew she’d gone too far. But he’d brought her here to tell her things and she wanted to know. Needed to know in order to understand him.

“You can’t guess?”

She traced her finger over his lips. “Your father?”

Now his eyes were glittering with heat. Angry heat. “Of course. He was a cruel man. He liked to cause pain.”

Her father had generally ignored her and her siblings after her mother left, and she’d always thought that was cruel in a way. How naive she’d been. Her father hadn’t been cruel so much as self-absorbed and casually indifferent to his children’s needs. He wasn’t a monster; he was just a flawed man.

“I’m sorry I hit you,” she said, her throat tight.

“I’ve had worse.” Christos flipped her onto her back, his body hard and insistent against hers. “Have I told you enough now,
agapi mou?
Is there anything else I can do for you,
any other way I can strip my soul bare for your curiosity?”

His voice had an edge to it that should have worried her. In the few short months he’d been at the Chatsfield, the one thing she knew about him was that he did not get emotional. And yet this man had shown her sides of himself she hadn’t known existed last night.

“I’m not trying to hurt you. I just … I care.” Especially when she’d been the one to force him to confront this part of his life again.

He dropped his gaze to her bare breasts. “I’d rather not talk about this right now,” he murmured thickly.

Could she blame him? Her heart ached for him and her soul wanted to comfort his. She only knew one way to do that. What he needed right now was the physical connection between them. He would not accept her pity, but he would accept the comfort of her body.

“Then we won’t talk. Make love to me, Christos. That’s what you can do for me right now.”

He entered her body in a single thrust and her eyes snapped closed at the intensity of it. He filled her, made her crave nothing but this. Right now, this moment, she would give anything she had to feel like this for the rest of her life. It was so unexpected that tears
sprang against the backs of her eyes. She’d set out to ruin him but perhaps she’d ruined herself instead.

His cheek against hers was everything she needed in this world. She turned her head and kissed him as the tears she’d been holding in escaped and trickled down her cheeks.

His voice was suddenly strangled as he lifted himself above her. “Lucilla
mou
, don’t. You tear me apart when you cry.”

“I don’t mean to.” It was almost a sob.

He bracketed her cheeks between his broad hands and kissed away her tears—and her heart broke open with everything she felt and everything she’d been trying to contain. Somehow, she’d fallen in love with him. With this man who infuriated her and challenged her and made her feel incredibly sexy and alive. Everyone thought Christos was cold and unemotional, but she knew the truth. He’d cut himself off because he’d been hurt and he kept himself apart because he didn’t know how to trust anyone.

She wanted him to trust her. To love her. Lucilla shivered with the strength of her emotions—and the fear that she could lose everything if he wasn’t capable of returning those feelings.

She threaded her fingers into his hair and
brought his mouth to hers. She kissed him brutally, desperately. She couldn’t bear to have him be tender right now, not when her heart was so fragile. She needed his strength and his passion, his overwhelming virility.

He held her hard against him, his kiss matching her own. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest but she dared not hope it was for the same reason hers pounded.

“Lucillitsa,” he groaned when she shifted her hips.

“I want to fly, Christos,” she whispered. “Make me fly.”

They spent the next couple of days wrapped up in each other, but Christos knew they would have to return soon. The emails and phone calls from the office were increasing, though neither of them liked to talk about it. Right now they were supposed to be on a tour of Chatsfield locations, not lounging in bed together in the middle of the afternoon.

So many things remained unsaid between them. It could not keep going this way, but he was reluctant to bring reality back into their relationship. He did not do long term, but he could see making an exception for Lucilla. Just for a while, of course. Not forever. He
definitely did not do forever. The mere idea made him go ice-cold with dread.

And yet the idea of letting her go also made him cold. He did not like feeling these contradictory emotions. Not at all.

It was the chaotic state of his thoughts that led him to start the conversation at dinner that night. They’d returned to the taverna to eat and, this time, perhaps enjoy the experience a bit more. But he found he wasn’t enjoying it the way he should.

He couldn’t quite keep his eyes from straying to Lucilla as she sat and watched the band in the square. Her face was so expressive, especially when she thought no one was watching her. She was beautiful and almost carefree, which annoyed him since he felt as if he were weighted down by cares at the moment.

The strains of the Zeibekiko began and Lucilla’s eyes widened a moment later.

“What is happening?” she asked, glancing over at him.

Christos turned to look. A man had started to dance—alone, as was traditional—and it was clear his dance was for a woman who sat near. She smiled and clapped and the man whirled and glided in his own rhythm. He
snapped his fingers, stepped back and forth, and shot smoldering looks at his lady.

The woman looked happy, and the man—well, the man looked intense and determined. And more than a little bit in love with the woman.

“It is a Zeibekiko. He dances for her.”

Lucilla’s breath shortened. “Oh, how romantic.”

Yes, it was—or could be. Christos did not look again. Instead, he took some bills from his wallet and laid them on the table.

“Let’s go,” he said, and her gaze snapped to his. Her brow knit with confusion—and then with worry. He felt like an ass, but he stood and took her hand and they walked away from the dancing man and his lady.

“That was lovely,” she said. “Is it traditional for a man to dance for his sweetheart?”

“It can be, yes.” He wasn’t sure why he didn’t want to discuss this with her, but he didn’t. That couple looked happy, in love, and Christos had no idea what that was like. Or why anyone would want it. And he didn’t want to think about it.

They walked back to the car in silence. Lucilla turned to him as he reached for her door, stopping him with a palm on his chest. “What’s the matter, Christos?”

He hated that she could read him so well. “Nothing is the matter.”

“I don’t believe you.” Her voice was soft and sweet and he despised himself for craving her. This was not his way. This was not how he did things. He’d brought her here to save himself—and even to punish her for digging into his life—but he’d not intended to need her so much. Since that moment in the cemetery, he’d been thinking that she made him feel less alone in the world.

But it was dangerous to feel that way because he knew how easily things could change. He’d had a mother and then he hadn’t. He’d been a kid and then he’d been a prisoner. He only knew extremes.

And it was time to get back to his life the way he understood it. He had to put an end to this, swiftly and ruthlessly. The same as he did everything. There was no sense in prolonging their stay.

“We’ve been here for a few days, Lucilla. It’s time to move on. I have a company to run and you have a job to do, as well.”

It was out there now, the assumption that he was still the CEO of the Chatsfield empire. He’d thrown it at her like a challenge and he waited to see what she would do. If she threatened him, then he would know, wouldn’t he?
He could forget this inconvenient attraction and move on with a clear mind. He almost wished she would.

“Yes, I realize. We are meant to be on a tour of the other locations.”

“We are. But I think we should go back to London. I’ll need you to run things there while I continue the tour as planned.”

He didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes. He hadn’t planned to say that, but it suddenly occurred to him that he needed time away from her if he was to renew his focus on what his life was supposed to be.

Her gaze dropped away from his and she swallowed. He had a sudden urge to fall to his knees and beg her to forgive him. Which meant that he wouldn’t do it, of course. He stiffened his spine and waited for her reaction.

“All right.”

Suddenly, the emotions churning inside him reached a boiling point. She’d violated his privacy—violated his solitude, damn her—and now she was going to just take whatever he dished out as if she hadn’t gone to extraordinary lengths to topple him? It was her fault he was feeling like he’d been turned inside out. Her fault he couldn’t find his footing in this emotional quicksand.

“That’s it, Lucilla? You’re prepared to accept my leadership now? No more threats or tantrums?”

She looked stunned. And then she looked angry. “Tantrums? Are you kidding me? Because I’ve disagreed with you in the past, I’m throwing tantrums?”

He almost rejoiced at seeing fiery Lucilla make her reappearance. And yet he had to be strong and firm with her if he were to get the Chatsfield—and his life—back on track. “I don’t care what you call them, but I prefer we not disagree in front of the staff.”

Her eyes flashed. “I will disagree with you whenever I feel like it. And no, I’m not going to threaten you.”

She sucked in a breath then and he thought she might be dangerously close to crying. He wanted to drag her into his arms and apologize—but he was frozen by conflicting feelings. Why was it so hard to do what he knew needed to be done? It was kinder to them both if he let her go now. If he didn’t string her along with false hopes for the future.

Her chin lifted in that way he’d come to realize meant she was determined. “You’re the Chatsfield CEO, Christos. Because my father chose you, and while I don’t agree, I have to
accept his decision. But I will
not
blindly follow your orders just because you’ve made me feel ashamed of myself for trying to use your past against you. I won’t do that. Ever. But I damn well will tell you when you’re being a stupid ass.”

She grabbed the handle and yanked the car door open. Then she got inside and shot him a look as she reached for the door. “Oh, yeah,” she said. “You are currently being a stupid ass.”

And then she slammed the door.

When they reached the house perched on its lonely cliff, Lucilla went to the room she’d woken up in on the first day. She hadn’t slept in that bed since, having spent the past few nights with Christos, but she was far too angry to go to bed with him now. He didn’t stop her, and that only added to her misery as she stomped up the stairs.

Her heart hurt and her eyes stung with unshed tears. She’d been having so much fun tonight, enjoying the food and music and being with him. Just being with him. She loved it when he smiled—which hadn’t been often tonight—when he ordered for her in Greek and even when he opened her car door and
set her inside with a kiss on her hand as they were leaving the house earlier.

She went over to the double doors that opened onto the balcony, wrenching them open and going out into the warm Greek night. Oh, God, what had she been thinking? Why had she told him she wanted him that night when he’d taken her to the cemetery? If she’d just kept her emotions in check, she could have walked out of this time in Greece with her heart intact.

No, you couldn’t.

She shoved the evil voice deep and sucked in a breath, and then another and another as she tried not to cry. Damn him, and damn her for being so needy. He’d made her feel things she never had with another man, and she’d let her heart run wild and free.

Now look at her. Christos only cared about the job, about making sure she wouldn’t use the information she’d found against him, while she cared about
him.
About his happiness.