The Savakis Merger (7 page)

He shifted his hold and bent his head, licking the juice from her thumb, her forefinger, the sensitive V of flesh between them. A judder ran through her. Only his iron-hard grasp stopped her dropping the glass.

Her taste was sweet and salt and feminine musk. The scent of her skin like summer. Instantly his hunger escalated to a desperate craving. Too late he realised his mistake. The taste of her sent him spinning out of control. He was rigid with the force of swelling desire.

‘Don’t. Please.’ Her voice was low but he couldn’t miss the quiver of unsteadiness.

A bolt of something like guilt or even pity cleaved through him, making him frown. What had happened to the Callista he knew—all ice and fire? Her self-possession slipped and he glimpsed a different woman behind the façade.

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For her to surrender and admit she wanted him?

Yet looking at her averted profile, reading the fine lines of strain around her mouth and the smudge of tiredness beneath her eyes, he knew a moment’s doubt.

‘Callie,’ he murmured, drawing her closer.

‘Callie, can you help? I—’ Angela’s voice came from the terrace and Damon turned as the younger girl approached. Her eyes were huge as she took in the pair of them. Belatedly Damon released his hold.

Instantly Callie shifted away. ‘I’m sorry; I just wanted to check something.’

‘Hi, Angela. No need to apologise.’ Damon smiled. He liked the girl despite her puffed-up father. She reminded him of his youngest sister, timid with strangers but delightful.

Callie hurried to Angela, drawing her away. She shepherded the younger girl, her arm raised as if to protect.

Damon frowned. He’d seen that gesture before. It had taken this long for him to notice, for whenever Callie was near he didn’t think clearly.

Now he watched and wondered, his brain clicking into gear. He recollected how regularly Callie appeared when he and Angela were alone. How she often sat between them.

Why?

The women conferred about a projected dinner party. As if aware of his regard, Callie raised her head and something sparked in her eyes. She excused them and ushered Angela ahead of her into the house.

Could it be that, despite her hoity-toity attitude, Callie was jealous of the attention he gave her cousin?

He turned and paced the length of the pool.

Or had he been right the first time? Was she trying to protect her cousin?

The idea nonplussed him.

He’d never be a threat to a sweet girl like Angela. The girl was probably a virgin and far too young. He didn’t seduce innocents. Life was less complicated with lovers who understood long term relationships weren’t on his agenda.

When the time came to think of marriage he…

Damon stilled.

Was that it? Aristides Manolis’ plan to interest Damon in marriage to his daughter? The idea was nonsense. As if he needed help choosing a wife!

As if Angela would suit him!

Then he remembered the look on Callie’s face as she urged her cousin inside. Could she really believe he was interested in marrying Angela?

Suddenly so much made sense.

A smile of satisfaction spread across Damon’s face.

He had her.

He knew the chink in Callie’s armour. All he had to do was apply a little pressure.

‘Just who I wanted to see.’ Damon’s voice was low and intimate. The hairs on Callie’s neck rose in instant awareness. ‘We need to talk.’

It didn’t matter that he held her in contempt. Or that he threatened the fragile peace of mind she’d built up since Alkis’ death. A force stronger than reason or pride held her in thrall to Damon Savakis.

Who’d have thought desire could be so strong? In her inexperience it had seemed far more—as if in the seclusion of the pine-shaded beach, she’d connected with the only man in the world who was…right.

Her lips thinned. She’d always been too naïve. She should have stopped believing in fantasy long ago.

Slowly she turned. After a morning in her aunt’s sick room, Callie had sought the secluded platform at the end of the garden. She’d hoped its view over the village and the sea beyond would help her find the peace she’d lost.

He wore a crisp white shirt and tailored dark trousers, a jacket slung over one solid shoulder. He looked serious, a man to be reckoned with.

He’d been with her uncle for hours. What had they decided?

‘I’m leaving soon,’ he said, stepping close.

Callie’s hands tightened on the balustrade. Relief, not dismay. She told herself she wanted him to leave.

‘I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.’ She turned, unable to hold his stare.

Instead she gazed at the distant harbour.

‘Your family’s hospitality has been most…generous.’ His odd inflection sent unease skimming down her backbone.

A vessel in the harbour, a tiny blue-hulled boat, chugged towards the open sea. Callie wished she could be on it, sailing safely away from Damon. Her lips twisted. Just the idea of going on board a small boat made her stomach cramp with fear. She couldn’t even fantasise about her escape!

‘So generous that I’m considering strengthening my connection with your family.’

She should be relieved. If the deal was favourable she might get her inheritance. Yet, turning to see his satisfied expression, she had an awful suspicion it wasn’t so simple.

‘With a merger?’ She held her breath.

He draped his jacket over the railing then leaned, arms splayed. He looked like a man who commanded all he surveyed.

Disquiet thrummed through her. Her uncle had invited a powerful predator into their midst and foolishly believed he could keep the upper hand. Instinct told her Aristides Manolis had badly underestimated Damon.

‘Not necessarily.’ Was that a hint of amusement? ‘I’m considering something more personal.’

Callie’s fingers clenched round the rail in spasm.

‘Your cousin is a lovely young woman.’ There was a purr of satisfaction in his voice that made Callie’s hackles rise.

He wasn’t serious! He didn’t need marriage to a Manolis to cement his place in society. The idea was farcical.

‘I don’t see the connection,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘Don’t you? Odd, I thought you quite astute.’

She cast him a surprised glance then looked away.

‘Angela will make someone a fine wife,’ he mused. ‘She has the qualities a man looks for in a permanent partner.’

‘What? Timid, eager to please and biddable?’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. She’d learned what men wanted. Someone to shore up their egos and obey their whims. They didn’t look beyond the surface to the woman beneath. Much less recognise her needs.

‘Trust a beautiful woman to be so scathing of another.’

‘That’s not what I meant! I—’

‘I’m surprised you don’t know your cousin better. I was going to say Angela is intelligent, amiable and generous. Pretty too in her quiet way.’

‘She’s too young for you,’ she blurted out. ‘Far too young.’ Defiantly she confronted him. The impact of his gaze, so intense, so penetrating, dragged the air from her lungs.

One eyebrow, dark as night, rose speculatively.

‘You can’t be serious,’ she hissed.

‘Why not? A man reaches the stage when he wants a woman to come home to.’

‘I’m sure you have no problems finding women eager to wait up for you.’

His lazy smile set her teeth on edge. ‘You’re right. But I’m not talking about casual sex. I’m talking about the mother of my children. A man wants to pass on his name, his genes, his fortune to the next generation.’

Callie had become used to such attitudes since moving to Greece in her teens. Yet the cold-bloodedness of taking a wife simply because it was time to settle down irked her.

‘You want a brood mare.’

‘More than that.’ His expression was amused. ‘I require someone to be my hostess too.’

‘Why tell me?’ she asked flatly.

‘You’re an intelligent woman. You know your cousin. Your opinion interests me.’

She regarded him through narrowed eyes. There was a catch somewhere. ‘It wouldn’t work. Angela doesn’t want to marry you. She’s in love with someone else.’

No male with any pride would stomach the idea of his woman pining for another. Hadn’t Alkis’ obsessive jealousy arisen from the false belief Callie would seek the passion he couldn’t provide in another man’s arms? He’d made their lives a misery and their marriage a cruel prison because of it.

Damon merely smiled, like a hungry wolf sizing up its next meal.

‘She’s eighteen. Of course she fancies herself in love. She’ll get over it.

Any husband worth the name would see to that.’ He straightened, shifting his weight. Callie was struck anew by the sheer masculine charisma of his tall frame. If any man could turn the head of a susceptible teenager it was him.

‘You don’t understand.’ Callie turned and paced, unable to stay still.

‘They’re really in love. This is genuine.’

‘At her age? It’s puppy love.’

Callie opened her mouth to argue then snapped it shut. At eighteen she’d been head over heels in love with Petro, a clever, older law student. She’d believed it a grand passion, a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

Callie had been an ugly duckling who’d never felt at home in Greece, or with her new family, and still grieved the loss of her beloved parents.

She’d spent four years struggling to fit in where everything, from the language to the customs, was foreign. She’d barely scraped a place at university and had been pathetically grateful when a dashing older student found her attractive.

How easy to seduce her, a gawky eighteen-year-old virgin. Callie had dreamed of happily-ever-after in his lean embrace. Until the day Uncle Aristides descended like Zeus thundering down from Mount Olympus.

He was enraged at paying so much money to dispose of a fortune hunter.

Petro had left with never a second glance. Once he had funds at his disposal he’d gone back to his girlfriend.

So much for his protestations of undying love.

Callie had been heartbroken and distraught. Easy prey for her uncle’s scheme with his crony, Alkis.

‘Callie?’

Damon’s baritone dragged her back to the present. She blinked and found she’d wrapped her arms round her torso. Slowly she unwound them and stood straight, looking at a point near his collarbone.

‘Angela deserves the chance to marry the man she loves.’

‘Don’t tell me you believe in romantic love?’

She shrugged, trying to don an air of insouciance. She felt too brittle. As if her façade of control might splinter.

‘For some. For Angela.’ Not for herself. She’d given up that fantasy long ago.

He dismissed her argument with a single slashing gesture. ‘I don’t see a problem. Especially with your uncle onside. Between us we can overcome any doubts she has.’

All warmth leached from Callie’s body. She knew her uncle’s tactics too well. The mixture of blustering threat and heartfelt appeals for the good of the family.

At Angela’s age Callie had succumbed and agreed to marry the polite older man who’d payed court so graciously. Too late she’d learned her husband’s old-world charm hid a cruel and unstable disposition.

The knowledge filled her with desperate resolve.

‘No! You can’t. You mustn’t.’ The words spilled out and she took an involuntary step towards Damon, one hand outstretched in her urgency.

‘Mustn’t, Callie? You’re not in a position to dictate to me.’ Damon towered over her, eyes glinting with challenge.

Her hand dropped as fear swamped her. How could she win against this man? What weapons did she have to thwart him?

‘Once you’re married you’re tied permanently.’ She’d bet Damon would see a failed marriage as a personal failure. ‘Are you ready to settle down and devote yourself to one woman?’

‘Why?’ Heat flickered in his eyes. His stare was so intense it grazed her cheeks. ‘Have you changed your mind about our affair?’ He closed the space between them, forcing her to retreat till the balustrade dug into her back.

‘No! I just—’

‘You just decided you didn’t like your little cousin doing well for herself.’ Damon’s lip curled derisively and Callie’s heart dived. She’d never overcome his bias against her. ‘You don’t like being overlooked. I bet Angela has lived in your shadow for years.’

‘That’s not true!’ Callie had never wanted centre stage. Only Alkis’

determination to show her off had propelled her into a social sphere where she’d learned, painfully, to hold her own, despite the barbs and whispered gossip. She looked at Angela and saw herself at eighteen: quiet and far too vulnerable. ‘Angela’s not a rival, she’s—’

A disparaging flick of his hand silenced her. ‘I’m not interested.’ He paused, eyes pinioning hers. ‘Although…’

‘Although?’ Her hands wrapped around the railing as she straightened.

Was he having second thoughts? Hope blossomed.

‘One thing might make me reconsider,’ he said slowly, one hand rubbing his jaw.

‘Yes?’ She took a half-step forward before slamming to a halt, suddenly far too close to his big body. His heat shimmered through her, his scent reminding her of intimacies she tried hard to forget.

Damon reached out and cupped her chin with his palm. Her body responded with a thrill of excitement that drew every nerve to attention.

Slowly, oh, so slowly, his thumb slid across to her mouth, swiping deliberately across her bottom lip and tugging her lips apart.