Constantine's Defiant Mistress

And her face! She rarely wore much make-up—sometimes nothing and she always looked as sexy as hell—but tonight the unaccustomed darkening of her eyes and the slick of gloss to her lips made her look like a siren. Every man would look at her and want her, thought Constantine—and a nerve flickered furiously at his temple.

‘Do you like it?’ repeated Laura, half tempted to tear the damned thing off and put on the little floral dress she’d brought with her from England.

‘You look very beautiful,’ said Constantine carefully. Putting his hand in his pocket, he withdrew a slim leather case. ‘You’d better have these.’

‘What are they?’

He flipped the lid open to reveal a bright scattering of ice-white jewels, and it took Laura’s disbelieving eyes a couple of seconds to realise that she was in fact looking at a diamond necklace and a pair of long, glittering earrings.

‘I can’t wear these,’ she breathed.

‘Why not?’

‘What if I lose one?’

‘Don’t worry—they’re insured,’ he said carelessly as he clipped the exquisite necklace around her neck. ‘Put on the earrings, Laura.’

With trembling fingers she complied, and the piled up hairstyle complemented the waterfall earrings brilliantly as she stood before him for his assessment.

‘Perfect,’ he said softly. ‘Now you look like a Karantinos woman.’

But as they walked out together towards the strings of lights which were already twinkling against the darkening sky Laura felt like a prize pony in a show, decked out with unfamiliar ribbons and with its mane plaited.

She was an impostor, she thought. A fraud. Externally she carried all the displays of wealth which would be expected of the mother of Constantine’s son. But inside? Inside she felt like a cork from a bottle which was lost on a vast and tossing ocean.

The party had all the elements for a successful evening, and the guests were determined to enjoy the fabled Karantinos hospitality. The weather was perfect, the finest wines flowed, and the village women had outdone themselves with the food. But part of Laura wished that she could hide behind the anonymity of her waitress’s uniform instead of being subjected to the curious looks of the women of Livinos and—even more intimidating—of the society beauties who had flown in from Athens. They seemed to have no qualms about failing to hide their surprise when they were introduced to Laura. And neither did they abstain from flirting with Constantine.

Maybe she couldn’t blame them, for he drew the eye irresistibly; no other man came even close to him. His hair looked ebony-black when contrasted against the snowy whiteness of his dinner jacket, which emphasised his powerful physique. And Alex stayed close by his side as Laura heard him being introduced over and over again as ‘my son’.

My son, too she thought bitterly, ashamed of the great flood of primitive jealousy and fear which washed over her.

Because one look around at all the good and the great gathered here tonight was enough to ram home the extent of Constantine’s power and influence. And not just here in his native Greece. Why, a world-famous architect had flown in from New York especially for this party!

But Laura knew how to behave. She knew that people couldn’t tell how you were feeling if you disguised your nerves and concerns behind a bright party smile. It must be working too, because several of the men went out of their way to be charming to her.

The toast—to health and happiness and the continuation of the Karantinos bloodline—was taken early, so that Kyrios Karantinos could retire. He looked exhausted, thought Laura—and she accompanied him back to the house, keen to see he got there safely as well as enjoying a break from the sensation of being watched by the other guests.

She managed to get an excited Alex into bed before midnight, and by the time she had pulled the sheet over Blue Bear he was fast asleep. It was late, she reasoned. Too late to go back—and she was exhausted, too. All that endless smiling and trying not to sound like some gauche little woman who had shoe-horned her way into the life of the Greek billionaire by getting pregnant had completely wiped her out.

She showered and slipped into bed—half hoping that Constantine would not come to her tonight and half praying that he would. Couldn’t she lose this terrible sense of insecurity in the warm haven of his arms? Forget life and all its problems in the dreamy pleasure of his lovemaking? Even if those feelings came crowding back in the moment he left.

The door opened and Constantine stood there unmoving—still in his dinner suit—just staring at the bed in silence before walking into the room and quietly shutting the door behind him.

‘H-hello,’ she said, sitting up and feeling rather stupid—why hadn’t he come over to pull her hungrily into his arms?

‘Can you get up and put some kind of robe on?’ he asked, in a strained and distant kind of voice.

‘Sure.’ She looked up at him for

some kind of hint as to what this was all about—but then she wished she hadn’t. Because it was like a cruel flashback to all those years ago when she had looked into his eyes and seen nothing.

Nothing at all.

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘IS…IS something wrong?’ asked Laura tentatively.

Constantine turned round. The silky gown came to mid-thigh, and covered her in all the right places—but it did nothing to disguise the luscious curves and he did not want to be distracted by her body. Not yet.