“Get—off—me!”
She was crying. And yes, moving against him, not in passion but in an attempt to free herself of his weight.
He sat up, stunned, disbelieving. She scrambled away from him and shot to her feet, clutching the open bodice of her dress, staring at him as if he were a monster.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Don’t touch you? But—”
“I told you I didn’t want to come here. I told you I would not be your—your sex toy. And now—now, the minute we’re alone in this—this kingdom you rule, you start—you start pawing me.”
Pawing her? She had clung to him. Kissed him. Looked into his eyes with desire and now…
And now, it was time to up the ante. Make the game more interesting because she knew damned well he could always toss in his cards and walk away from the table.
He wanted to throw her back down on the rumpled bed, pin her arms over her head, force her thighs apart and finish what she had started, but she would not reduce him to that.
For all he knew, that was exactly what she wanted.
He snarled a name at her, one he’d never called any woman. Then he turned on his heel, strode through the suite, into the hall and slammed the door behind him.
Lucas had called it right. First Kay had played him for a sucker. Now Ivy was doing it. And he, fool that he was, had let it happen.
She was only a woman. A pretty face, a ripe body. God knew, there were plenty of those in his life. Yes, she carried his child but he knew damned well she hadn’t done it out of love for her sister.
She’d done it for money. Lots of it, probably. And then fate had intervened, taken Kay out of the picture, and Ivy would have seen that whatever Kay had promised her could be increased a hundredfold, a thousandfold, if she played the game right.
The lock clicked.
Panagia mou! She had locked the door against him. Locked his door against him. To hell with that. If she thought he’d put up with such crap, she needed to learn a lesson.
Starting right now.
He took a step back, aimed his foot at the door…
“Sir?”
Damian whirled around. “Get the hell out of here, Esias!”
His houseman stood his ground, no emotion showing on his face as if it were perfectly normal to find his master about to kick down the door of his own sitting room.
“I am sorry to disturb you, Your Highness, but your office in Athens is trying to reach you. They say it is urgent.”
Esias held out the telephone. Damian glared at it. What did he give a damn for his office in Athens? Except—except, it was the middle of the night.
The bitch laughing at him behind that door was only one woman. He could deal with her at his leisure. But if there was a problem in Athens, it could affect the hundreds of people who worked for him.
He held out his hand and Esias gave him the phone.
An Aristedes supertanker had run aground on a reef in South America. Oil might begin oozing into the ocean at any moment.
Damian tossed the phone to Esias. “Wake my pilot,” he snapped. “Tell him—”
“I have taken the liberty of doing so. The helicopter will be ready when you get there.”
“Thank you.”
“You are welcome, Your Highness.” The houseman paused and looked at the closed door. “Ah, is there anything else, sir?”