The Greek's Billion-Dollar Baby Page 11

  It was too real, too raw. She needed to say something, but words failed her. She opened her mouth, searching, seeking, but Leonidas shook his head and then kissed her.

  It was a kiss to silence Hannah, a kiss to suck away whatever she’d been going to say and swallow it up, because he’d made it obvious he didn’t want her grief, her sympathy, her conversation.

  He kissed her, and she resisted for a moment because he was finally opening up to her and she wanted to talk to him, to help him, to hear him. She stiffened in his arms, wanting to push at his chest, to tell him not to run away from this conversation but then he groaned, a guttural sound of such utter, devastating need, and any fight wavered, leaving only surrender.

  Surrender and such deep, deep sympathy.

  She understood the complexity of his emotions.

  And the way he kissed her now, she understood what he needed. He wished he didn’t want her like this; he’d said as much on the beach, but this flame was burning out of control no matter how they tried to manage it.

  ‘Damn it,’ he groaned, swooping down and lifting her up. Regardless of the fact she was five months pregnant, he carried her effortlessly, moving through the mansion with a determined gait.

  He shouldered the door to his room open—Hannah hadn’t been in here. She looked around, seeing the dark wood, the masculine touches, gathering a brief impression of a space that was huge and elegant before he laid her on the bed, his body coming over hers, his mouth seeking hers as his hands pushed at the waistband of her shorts, lowering them, his hands running over her body.

  A gentle breeze rustled in off the Mediterranean, bringing with it salt and warmth. Hannah lifted herself up, kissing him as her hands pushed at his shirt, guiding it over his chest, up to his head. He broke the kiss so she could remove it and then she lay back, breathless, her eyes running over his chest.

  The room was dark, but she could see enough. She drank in the sight of him as quickly as she could because he kissed her again, his tongue flicking hers, his hands worshipping her body.

  He brought his mouth lower, pushing at her shirt, lifting it to her throat so he could take one of her breasts into his mouth, his tongue swirling over a nipple until she bucked beneath him, stars flashing in her eyelids.

  ‘God,’ she moaned, digging her heels into the bed, arching her back, begging him to take her, to thrust inside her.

  His mouth moved to her other breast and his fingers took over, his palm feeling the weight of her breast, his thumb and forefinger teasing her nipple until she was a puddle of whimpering nerves.

  ‘Please,’ she husked, running her nails down his back.

  His arousal was hard between her legs; his knee nudged her thighs further apart and then he thrust into her, the ache unmistakable, the same urge overrunning them both. She felt his need and mirrored the depth of it.

  She lifted herself onto her elbows, finding his mouth, pulling his lower lip between her teeth and biting down on it, so he let out a sharp sound of shock and then a groan as he pushed her head back to the mattress, his kiss a complete domination and sublime pleasure.

  Only she wanted more, she wanted to be in control of this. She kissed him back, just as hard, needing him to understand her—this. Needing to reassure him in some way.

  She moved herself over his arousal, her breath pinched, her body screaming in relief.

  Hannah’s heart hammered against her ribs and pleasure burst, touching every single part of her, until she was all fire and flame, no room for thoughts and feelings, doubts and uncertainties.

  Concerns of security, the future, their relationship, his grief, her loss, they all disappeared. What room was there for anything when there was this pleasure in life?

  * * *

  Her breathing was rhythmic and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  Her vibrant red hair spread over his crisp white pillows, glowing like copper, and his gut throbbed painfully.

  Leonidas Stathakis had tormented himself for the four years after his wife’s death, staying celibate even when his body had begged him to relent, even when he’d wanted to lose himself in a willing woman’s arms.

  He hadn’t.

  He hadn’t given in, until he’d seen Hannah and something inside him had begun to beat, a drum he could no longer ignore.

  And it was still beating, but harder and faster now. With Hannah under his roof, it was impossible to ignore this; just as she’d said.

  Theirs wasn’t a normal marriage, but they did have this, and suddenly, Leonidas didn’t want to fight it any more.

  He watched her sleep, her beautiful, pregnant body naked to his hungry gaze, and he gave up fighting altogether. Perhaps in the morning he’d feel differently, but, for now, Leonidas allowed himself to curve his body behind hers, to place an arm possessively over her stomach and to fall asleep for the first time in a long time with a woman in his bed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HANNAH WOKE, STRETCHING until her back connected with something hard and warm behind her. Her heart was racing, the meeting with Greg Hassan the day before having left a lingering sense of anxiety in her so that alarm was her first emotion, followed swiftly by something much warmer, much more tempting, when she corkscrewed in the bed and realised where she was, and who she was with.

  Leonidas.

  And he was awake.

  Staring at her.

  His naked body was not a mystery to her, and yet this was the first time she’d woken up beside him, or any man, and a hint of self-consciousness made her cheeks blush.

  ‘I fell asleep,’ she said quietly, her eyes dropping to his chest. ‘I’m sorry.’

  She didn’t see the way his brows curved reflexively into a frown.

  ‘Why are you apologising?’

  Hannah lifted her gaze to his. ‘I don’t know. I guess I would have thought you’d want your space. Or to not have me here.’

  His frown deepened and there was silence for several beats. ‘I would have thought so, too.’

  More silence.

  ‘You were right, on the beach, Hannah. There is something between us. This chemistry.’ His eyes were hollow when they met hers. ‘I don’t want to fight it any more.’

  Her blood hammered inside her, hope was rolling inside her but she stayed completely still, watching him, listening.

  ‘I have been single a long time. Single by choice. I have no idea how to do this. And I don’t want to hurt you.’ His expression showed his doubts on that score.

  ‘Why do you think you’re going to?’

  His face bore a mask of wariness.

  ‘I don’t want you to think that great sex is more meaningful than that.’

  Hannah swallowed, her brain turning his words over, making sense of them. He was afraid—afraid to risk falling in love, afraid to risk getting close to anyone. She understood that. He’d loved and lost. He was gun-shy now. But opening himself up to their intimacy was one thing—it was a definite step, and for now that was enough.

  Hannah smiled slowly, her eyes sparkling in a way that made Leonidas draw in an audible breath.

  ‘Don’t worry, Leonidas Stathakis,’ she said, pushing at his shoulder so he fell back on the mattress and straddling him at the same time, surprising him so his eyes flared. ‘I’m very happy to just use you for sex for now.’

  His laugh was throaty, his expression shifting into one of complete fascination.

  ‘Is that right?’ She took his erection in her hands, feeling his strength, running her fingertips over his length, her smile pure sensual heat.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She pushed up on her haunches, then brought herself over his arousal, taking him deep inside her but so slowly that he dug his fingertips into her hips and pulled her the rest of the way, his eyes holding hers.

  She bit down on her lip and arched her back and he pulled up then, sitting, wra
pping his arms around her, sucking one of her nipples in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Her breasts were so sensitive that his touch was like an arrow firing right into her central nervous system. She cried out, his name heavy on her lips, her nails on his shoulders, and he held her tighter, thrusting into her. With her on top, he reached different places, and she felt a different kind of explosion building, more intense somehow, taking over her body.

  ‘Leonidas.’ She ran her fingers through his hair and then cupped his face, pulling him away from her chest so she could kiss his mouth, and he kissed her back, hard, their tongues duelling, even as he shifted their body weight, spinning her, rolling her onto her back so he could take even more of her, thrusting into her hungrily, deep, hard and fast, and Hannah pushed her hands up, wrapping her fingers around the bedhead and holding on for dear life, and pleasure threatened to explode her out of this world.

  He leaned forward, catching her hands, peeling them off the bedhead, lacing his fingers through hers and, as on the beach, he pinned them above her head, so his hair-roughened torso was hard against hers and every single cell in her body reacted to this tactile contact, to his nearness.

  Her orgasm splintered her apart and it was Leonidas who put her back together, each gentle murmur, his voice speaking in Greek, his kiss gentle now, soft, reassuring as she flew straight into the abyss.

  * * *

  ‘You don’t think this is overkill?’ Hannah murmured, surveying the island from the vantage point he’d driven her to. From here, she could see so much more than the house, including a full golf course, a helipad as well as the airstrip, and in the distance what looked to be a whole little village. There was a jetty, too, and another yacht was tied to it—not as large as the one in Capri, but still what Hannah had to imagine would be classed as a ‘superyacht’, beautiful and shimmering white.

  ‘What is?’

  ‘This island.’ She couldn’t help the smile that teased her lips. She’d woken that morning, in his bed, and something had felt easier between them. She knew there were demons driving him, controlling him, but they weren’t the sum total of Leonidas Stathakis.

  He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘You don’t like it?’

  ‘Oh, I like it very much,’ she contradicted, rolling her eyes a little. ‘But who wouldn’t? I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to living like this.’

  ‘It’s just a bigger home than you’re used to.’

  Hannah laughed at that, lifting the takeaway coffee cup she’d brought with her, sipping on it, wondering if she’d ever con herself into enjoying decaf. ‘By about three thousand times. And then there’s the expansive private beach.’

  He looked at her, a smile pulling at his lips, and her heart turned over because he was really, exceptionally handsome, and when he smiled, it was as if someone had turned the music up full volume.

  Her eyes dropped to his lips and her pulse gushed through her body, stirring heat in her veins and anticipation low down in her abdomen.

  ‘I haven’t thought about it in a long time,’ he said simply. ‘It’s just the island, to me.’

  ‘Naturally.’ She was still smiling as she turned her eyes back to the view. ‘Did you grow up here?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Where, then?’

  ‘Athens, mainly—Kifissia. My father’s offices were in the city.’ The words were flat, carefully blanked of any emotion.

  But Hannah felt it. She felt it rolling off him in waves, crashing against her, just like the ocean to the shore. She swallowed, butterflies in her tummy making her hesitate a little.

  ‘What happened with him?’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  She shrugged, awkwardly. ‘I had to look you up on the Internet, to work out how to contact you.’

  His eyes roamed hers, probing thoughtfully.

  ‘I mean, I saw a headline, but I didn’t click into it.’

  ‘Why not?’ His expression showed genuine surprise.

  ‘Because it kind of gives me the creeps. Doesn’t it you?’

  He arched a brow, clearly not comprehending.

  ‘Well, it’s not really any of my business. It seemed private to you and your family.’ She wrinkled her nose, lost in thought. ‘I guess there’s a lot about you out there, and your brother, and your dad. But what kind of stalker would I be to read it?’

  ‘Your stalkerishness is someone else’s due diligence,’ he said with a quirk of his lips. ‘What if I’m some kind of pathological cheat?’

  ‘Are you?’ She turned her face to his, her eyes scanning his features.

  ‘No.’ The word was sombre.

  Silence arced between them, electric and sharp. He seemed to be peeling her away, looking deep inside her, even though the question had been Hannah’s.

  ‘And see? I believe you.’ Her own voice was a little husky.

  ‘Why?’

  Hannah replaced her coffee cup in the golf cart they’d been touring the island in, then spun around to face him, so their bodies were almost touching. ‘Because you’ve never lied to me, Leonidas.’

  His expression tightened imperceptibly, his jaw square.

  ‘You told me on New Year’s Eve that we’d only ever be one night. You didn’t make big promises to get me into bed. You were honest. You were honest with me this morning. I don’t think you know how to lie.’

  Leonidas looked beyond her, to the horizon. ‘Honesty is generally the best policy, is it not?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her smile was uneven.

  ‘I would have thought, having learned of your fiancé’s infidelity, you would be slow to trust anyone.’

  ‘So would I.’ Her voice was a little shaky. ‘But you’re nothing like Angus. You’re nothing like anyone I’ve ever met.’

  At this, Leonidas’s expression tightened, and she understood that he was closing himself off, that she’d moved them into territory he couldn’t yet traverse.

  ‘What did he do, anyway?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your father.’

  ‘Ah.’ He expelled a slow breath, as though fortifying himself for what would come next.

  ‘I gather he’s in prison?’

  ‘Serving a twenty-year sentence.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What for? Prison is where criminals should be.’

  ‘Yes, but he’s your dad...’

  ‘Not any more.’

  Hannah frowned. ‘You hate him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Why?’

  ‘My father turned his back on the Stathakis Corporation. He almost destroyed what my grandfather, great-grandfather, and his father had spent their lifetimes building. Ancient, proud shipping lines that funded investments in foreign hotels and then hedge funds—our operations were crippled because of him.’

  ‘How? Surely your company’s too big for any one man to destroy?’

  ‘He began to fund the mob, Hannah.’ His eyes were haunted now, furious too, zipping with tightly coiled emotions. ‘My father—who was richer than Croesus—didn’t just want money and the lifestyle it afforded. He wanted power. No, not power; he wanted people to be afraid of him. He wanted notoriety and reach.’

  ‘I can’t even imagine what drives a man to think like that,’ she said with a gentle shake of her head. ‘How could he have even met that element?’

  ‘It’s everywhere. Casinos, bars, commercial investments.’ Leonidas expelled a harsh breath. ‘He was always enamoured of that lifestyle. I’m only surprised it took so long for him to be arrested.’

  ‘That must have been so hard for you.’

  ‘I think of myself as a strong person but I have no idea how I would have coped without Thanos.’ The confession surprised her, and softened her, all at once. ‘Investigators from every country in which we do business went over o
ur records with a fine-tooth comb. We lost anything that had been used to fund crime. Despite the fact Thanos and I had been groomed from a young age, at our grandfather’s knee, to love our company like a member of this family, to work hard to better it, we had to watch it being pulled apart, piece by piece, to see it crumble and fail.’

  Sadness clouded Hannah’s eyes; the image he was painting was one that was loaded with grief.

  ‘What did you do?’

  His expression was laced with determination and she thought of a phoenix, rising from the ashes. ‘We cut the failing businesses, sold them off piece by piece, got what we could for them and recouped by aggressively buying into emerging markets. It was a high-risk strategy, but what did we have to lose?’

  Hannah felt the conversational ground shift a little beneath them. She knew there was danger ahead, but, again, something had changed, there was more clarity, as if a valve had given way and now there was a clear flow of comprehension, an understanding.

  ‘You said Amy was murdered in a vendetta against your father?’

  His features tightened, and his jet-black eyes glittered with hatred—not for her, but for the men responsible. ‘Yes.’

  It was like pulling fingernails, she knew. He didn’t want to do this, and yet, he wasn’t hiding from her, even when it was causing him pain.

  ‘He cut a deal with a prosecutor. Multiple life sentences were reduced to a twenty-year term, all because he handed over the names of his associates.’ Leonidas’s contempt was apparent, his lips little more than a snarl. ‘He didn’t, for one second, think of how that would affect us—those of us out here, living in this world.’

  ‘Perhaps he was just trying to do the right thing?’

  Leonidas surprised Hannah then, because he smiled—a smile that was tinged with grief. ‘You see the world through the veneer of your goodness,’ he said after a moment. ‘You think because your motivations are pure and good, everyone else’s must always be?’