The Savakis Merger (11 page)

Her tongue was clumsy as she capitulated.

‘Very well. You can have your revenge. I’ll go with you.’

‘I thought we were taking the big ferry.’ Damon heard a thread of what sounded like anxiety in Callie’s voice and shot her a look as a servant took their bags from the four-wheel-drive and went ahead.

In the shade of the pine grove her face gave nothing away. It was a stiff mask, leaving him to speculate on that tiny betraying quiver at odds with her appearance.

Yet nothing could dim his satisfaction. Ever since she’d given in to his ultimatum two hours ago, anticipation had sizzled in his blood.

He intended to enjoy this liaison to the full.

‘Do I look the type to travel on crowded ferries?’

Callie’s shoulders lifted in a tight shrug. ‘It’s either that or a helicopter to the mainland.’

‘Why bother when I have my yacht? We can be private aboard Circe.’

Damon took her in slowly, from her blonde head to the white top, pale yellow trousers that cradled her neat curves and low-heeled sandals. She looked fresh and alluring in a way that had nothing to do with mercenary schemes. She looked…innocent.

His mouth thinned at the absurdity. She was an expert in playing up to male fantasies. Last night’s charade had proved her anything but innocent.

She knew how to tease a man’s libido. And his conscience.

He hadn’t been privy to her conversation with Aristides Manolis this morning, but he’d heard her uncle’s bellowed disapproval. Manolis was chagrined his plan to snare Damon in marriage hadn’t worked. Seeing the barely contained fury in the older man’s eyes later, Damon knew an unexpected admiration for Callie. No little innocent could handle such a bully. Callie was savvy and determined. Quite an operator.

‘But…’ She paused and gnawed on her lip. He zeroed in on the movement, heat building in his belly even as his brain filed away that surprising hint of nerves for later consideration. ‘We’d get to Athens faster if we flew.’

‘Who said I want to return quickly? I told my assistant to cancel my appointments.’

Damon’s gaze travelled appreciatively down her slim body. They were near the place where they’d discovered exactly how much pleasure they could give each other. Memories rose hot and close, tugging at his control.

But he wanted the luxury of his own bed when he had her again.

Despite his anger at her plot, it was desire not revenge that fired his blood now.

‘I’m looking forward to a leisurely trip,’ he murmured.

She blinked but said nothing.

He’d swear she’d been about to blurt something. Curiosity stirred. The idea of Callie saying anything unguarded intrigued him. Even in anger she gave little away. Except when she’d argued so passionately that he shouldn’t marry Angela. Then he’d known for sure she was genuine.

‘Isn’t Circe up to your standards?’ The yacht, just visible through the trees, was a rare vintage classic.

He’d spent a fortune refurbishing Circe to the most exacting standards of a man used to the best. Callie probably preferred an ostentatious cruiser over gracious lines and perfect craftsmanship. Her jewellery revealed a flashy taste rather than an appreciation of beauty.

‘Circe is glorious. Only a philistine would think otherwise.’ Callie shot him a look that mixed surprise and scorn. ‘It amazes me that a man obsessed with takeovers and revenge recognises quality when he sees it.’

She turned on her heel and headed away from him.

Damon surveyed her. The clench and release of her sexy bottom as she walked drew a sigh of appreciation.

‘How you stayed married so long with your sharp tongue is beyond me, Callie,’ he said to her retreating back. ‘I bet you didn’t make allowances for your husband.’

He paused, intrigued, as she stopped and slowly turned. Her face was set in lines of rigid hauteur, her body preternaturally still. Had he hit a sore spot?

When she didn’t immediately respond he continued, surprised at his need to know more. ‘Did you give him the cold shoulder too?’

‘I’ve told you, my marriage is none of your business.’ She drew herself up straight, perfectly erect, perfectly poised. So damnably perfect to look at it was hard to believe she was so conniving.

‘Why don’t you talk about it? Because you’re ashamed of the way you treated your husband? Don’t try to tell me you’re sick with grief. You’re not mourning him.’

She paced towards him. Fury flashed in her eyes.

‘I suppose you’d prefer I dressed in black and retire quietly for the rest of my life.’ Her lips curled in contempt. ‘It must be upsetting to realise a woman can get on just as well without a man in her life.’

‘You admit it? You weren’t in love with him?’ Triumph warred with disgust as he took in her supercilious expression. ‘Is that why you don’t use your married name? Why you reverted to Manolis? Because he meant nothing to you?’

Damon knew an insane desire to stamp his presence deep in her psyche, make her feel so much her life wouldn’t be complete without him.

If possible the chill in her gaze deepened. Her eyes were glacial pools that would suck the heat and the life from a man unwary enough to venture there.

‘You’re not sentimental about keeping your husband’s name?’ he prodded. ‘Or about the man who shared your bed for all those years?’

Damon waited for her excuses, but her mouth stayed fixed in an unyielding line.

She really was a piece of work.

‘So,’ he murmured, ‘you didn’t love him. Not surprising when he was so much older than you. He must have been, what, twenty years your senior? More?’

‘Thirty-five.’ Her lips barely moved on the words.

‘Thirty-five years older than you.’ Damon whistled. ‘It must have been a challenge, summoning the enthusiasm to make love to a man so much older.’ The image of Callie, sprawled naked and beautiful, letting some grizzled codger do what Damon had done with her, turned his stomach.

Acid rose in his throat. ‘Did you lie back and think of all his lovely money you could spend?’

Silence enveloped them. A stillness so thick he could almost reach out and grasp it. Yet she didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

What would it take to unsettle her? He knew that behind the frozen façade was a flesh-and-blood woman whose physical passion matched even his.

‘You know nothing about my marriage,’ she said finally. ‘You’re not even original in your insults. There’s nothing you can say about my marriage that hasn’t been said before.’ She looked as if she didn’t give a damn. ‘You don’t know me,’ she added.

‘I know all I need to know. I remember in perfect detail. Every sigh, every moan, every passionate response. You couldn’t get enough of me.’

Damon stepped near, raising his hand as if to caress her cheek, stopping with his palm centimetres from her skin. Static electricity sparked between them, tickling his hand and igniting his libido.

He watched her sway the tiniest fraction, as if drawn irresistibly to his touch. She felt it too, the tug of desire, stronger than ever. Satisfaction warmed his belly.

Soon he’d have what he craved. Then, when he was satisfied, he’d resume normal life, free of this net that bound him tight. Even his fury at the stunt she and her uncle had pulled barely mattered. All that mattered was the extraordinary intensity of his need for Callie.

Their gazes meshed then she stepped away, her face set in a frown of displeasure and confusion that did nothing to diminish her vibrant beauty. His hand dropped.

‘You’re fantasising, Kyrie Savakis—’

‘It’s Damon, remember?’

She shrugged, a jerky movement that told him all he needed to know about her awareness of him, of them.

‘Contrary to what you think, not all women are placed in your path solely for your amusement.’

‘You mean you have some other purpose?’ he jibed. ‘Apart from socialising, and shopping, and attending a charity function or two?’

His sisters would have his hide if they heard him, and his mother. But he was too busy watching her reaction to his deliberately outrageous comment to care. He was determined to make her lose her cool.

Eyes like jade daggers speared him. The confusion in her expression disappeared, swamped by indignation. For what seemed a full minute she glared, till he felt the heavy, anticipatory thud of blood pound through his body.

‘Congratulations,’ she said finally, inclining her head. ‘You know,’ she mused, her voice soft enough that he leaned forward to catch each syllable, ‘you’re everything I’d expect of an arrogant Greek tycoon. And then some. Thanks for warning me what to expect.’

Without waiting for a response she turned and strolled down the path, her casual gait deliberate provocation.

Damon felt emotion rise to the surface as he digested her words. He had to bite down hard to stifle a bark of appreciative laughter.

Little viper. Did she really think her words could sting him? Yet he had to hand it to her, she didn’t back down or sulk when challenged. She’d looked him in the eye and told him what she thought. Did she know how appealing that was?

Damon’s curiosity stirred, as well as his libido. The more time he spent with Callie the more she intrigued him. She might be shallow and conniving, but she had backbone and a gumption that appealed.

She was more than a sexy bed partner. She was an enigma he was determined to crack.

THE deck shifted beneath Callie’s feet. Automatically she adjusted her stance to its gentle roll. It was second nature, like riding a bicycle.

That didn’t stop the frisson of panic sliding down her spine. She fought to suppress it.

Damon thought her shallow and unprincipled. She refused to let him think her a coward too. Surely she could conquer this phobia till they reached the mainland.

Once she’d have revelled in being aboard a sleek beauty like Circe. She slid her hand along a lovingly polished surface. It felt familiar. Smelled like memories of long-lost summer afternoons. Nostalgia welled and with it piercing memories of a simpler time. When she had been loved and loving. When the future had seemed bright and beckoning. Before she’d learned about cruel obsession and manipulation.

‘Alone at last.’

Callie jumped and swung round to see Damon watching her. Reflective sunglasses hid his expression.

Her uncle’s staff were heading ashore after depositing their luggage and supplies.

‘Wishing you were with them?’ His voice was sardonic.

How she did! Instead she confronted twin horrors: her phobia of small vessels and giving herself to the cold demands of a man bent on stripping her pride and self-esteem.

Her lips tightened in a mirthless grimace. If this didn’t kill her she must emerge stronger.

‘Why don’t you show me around?’ If she kept busy maybe she could conquer the worst of her fear.

His eyebrows rose. ‘Of course. Follow me.’ He led the way to the stairs, peeling off his shirt. Bare-chested, he looked the way he had the first time she’d seen him. The sun lovingly glinted off toned olive skin that rippled with strength.

Callie’s throat dried as she followed. If only he was the sort of man she’d first thought him—generous, teasing and tender. A man she could trust.

‘Do you usually sail alone?’ She forced the question, refusing to dwell on fantasy.

‘No. Usually the Circe is full to the brim with family.’

‘Your family?’ Callie froze on the top step. He couldn’t be married!

He turned but in the gloom at the bottom of the stairs she couldn’t read his expression.

‘I’m the eldest of five and the last to hold out against matrimony. There’s usually someone wanting to come out with me. I’m even adept at stopping toddlers falling overboard.’

The ripple of unexpected amusement in his tone sent heat slanting through her. Callie had a vision of Damon wearing nothing but long swim shorts, cradling a dark-haired child in his arms. The image was unaccountably appealing. Maybe he was different with his family. Less driven, able to trust.

That was none of her business. Callie firmed her jaw and followed him, eyes widening at the luxury she found.

‘It’s stunning,’ she breathed, pivoting to take in the elegant furnishings and state-of-the-art equipment. The interior was a stylist’s dream, a harmonious marriage of old-world charm and modern functionality.

‘I’m glad you approve.’ Strangely, she detected no sarcasm. He’d removed his sunglasses and scrutinised her through narrowed eyes. She allowed herself the pleasure of absorbing her surroundings. How she’d love to be commissioned to fit out a yacht like this. Maybe one day, if her home-furnishing business really took off…

‘The only complaint so far is my mother’s. That I didn’t put in an oven large enough for a triple batch of moussaka.’

‘Your mother sails with you?’ That didn’t fit her perception of him as a ruthless tycoon, isolated by his self-importance, busy with business and seductions.

He shrugged and smiled. The first real smile she’d seen since the day they’d come together down by the shore. Its impact was like an incendiary flare deep inside.

‘It’s in the blood. I come from a long line of fishermen.’

‘Then your father must enjoy sailing too.’

A stiffening of his body warned her she’d overstepped the mark. ‘My father is dead.’ The words rang with a cool finality that didn’t brook further questions. ‘Come. I’ll show you the rest.’