The Greek's Blackmailed Wife

And did he really think that she would ever forget?

Had he really no idea just what he’d done to her? How much she’d suffered because of him? Part of her was proud that she’d survived in spite of him and part of her wanted to leap on him and claw at that devastatingly handsome face if only to provoke some degree of emotional response.

‘You’re my husband and yet you tried to destroy me.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘You took vows, Zander. Made promises. And none of them meant anything to you, did they? You are utterly ruthless and I will remind myself of that fact every single day of my life.’

Black eyes clashed with blue. ‘You angered me.’

Such a simple statement with which to justify brutal behaviour. He was just so Greek, she reflected helplessly, his otherwise razor-sharp intellect neutralised by his driving need for revenge.

He stepped towards her and she tensed, her body rendered immobile by the naked sexuality in his masculine gaze. She felt that gaze with every feminine part of her quivering body. Heat built inside her and slowly spread outwards, consuming her with its intensity. Her knees wobbled and she was forced to face the inevitable. That even hating him she still wanted him with every fibre of her being.

How could she?

How could her body still react to the man when her mind was ordering her to feel nothing and run?

But it was impossible to stand this close to Zander Volakis and feel nothing. She was still helplessly vulnerable to his overwhelming sexuality.

Appalled by that revelation, she reminded herself that she might not be able to control her reaction to him, but she could certainly control her actions and she had more sense than to act on those feelings.

Determined to conquer her own weakness, Lauranne curled her fingers into her palms. ‘Get out before I call Security.’

The faint lift of his brow and the hint of amusement in his dark eyes drew attention to the foolishness of her words. Her ‘Security’ consisted of the caretaker who maintained the building and was nominally responsible for keeping the alarm system in working order. Hardly a match for a professional security team, or even Zander himself. He was taller and broader than every other male of her acquaintance and she knew from experience that he was a man who could handle himself physically.

‘I think we both know that your “Security” are unlikely to challenge me.’ Zander moved closer still and suddenly the room seemed airless. The meeting room was huge and light and yet he managed to dominate every inch of the space around him.

‘I want you to go. I mean it, Zander.’ She dragged her gaze away from those indecently thick dark lashes, trying hard to ignore the masculine jaw and the wide, sensual mouth that could kiss a woman to a state of madness. Instead she forced herself to focus on the pain and the hurt. The destruction of her life. The man was a ruthless hunter. He took what he wanted and then moved on, stepping neatly over the debris that he’d created. ‘I have absolutely nothing to say to you. If you truly want to work with my company then you can talk to Tom.’

It was the wrong thing to say.

With appalled fascination she stood totally still, watching the change in him again, seeing the way his broad shoulders tensed in preparation for a fight.

‘You have the nerve to suggest that I talk to him, knowing what I would do to him if he set just one foot inside this office again—are you really that stupid?’

She stared at him, transfixed, hardly daring to move or speak in case her actions inflamed him further.

No. She wasn’t stupid.

She’d just forgotten what it was like to deal with an elemental Greek male. All the other men she knew were civilised and mild mannered. Not Zander. He was shockingly primitive, his emotions so hazardous and unpredictable that he should have had ‘handle with care’ printed on his back.

But she wasn’t twenty-one any more and she wasn’t going to allow him to intimidate her. ‘You don’t frighten me, Zander. And if you lay one finger on Tom ever again, I’ll—I’ll—’ She broke off, helplessly, aware of just how ridiculous her threats must seem to this man.

‘You’ll what?’ Dark eyes clashed with hers, his gaze heavily loaded with derision. ‘Still fighting battles for that pathetic little coward, Lauranne?’

‘He isn’t pathetic—’

‘He left you in here with me,’ Zander pointed out dryly, his tone dripping with masculine derision. ‘Hardly the actions of a hero, given our past history. He should have been in here, protecting his woman.’

‘I was never his woman.’

There.

She’d said it. Finally she’d said it. The words she should have spoken five years earlier and would have done if it hadn’t been for her stupid pride and a misguided desire to play him at his own game.

But her statement had no impact on Zander. It was five years too late.

‘Don’t insult my intelligence,’ he ground out, anger and tension evident in the aggressive thrust of his jaw and the set of his wide shoulders. ‘You were in bed with him. And you were wearing my wedding ring at the time.’

Lauranne stared at him helplessly, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to breathe. Zander was Greek to the very backbone and she knew that there was no point in trying to tell him the truth. And anyway, wasn’t part of it her fault? Hadn’t she manipulated the situation because she’d wanted Zander to be jealous? Wanted to punish him for the hurt he’d caused her. And she’d succeeded.