The Greek's Virgin Bride

Conscience pricked at him, but he pushed it away. No, of course he would not have dreamt of marrying an unknown woman without the chance to take over Coustakis Industries! But dynastic marriages of convenience were commonplace in the world of the very rich—that did not mean they had to be sordid. And since setting eyes on Andrea Coustakis he had known straight away that marriage to her would be anything but a marriage of convenience—it would be a marriage of mu­tual pleasure...

Andrea sat across the table and studied him dispassionately. He was offended. Offended by her frankness. She no longer wanted to laugh. Nor did her throat feel tight any more. Instead, a sort of dull, hard, unemotional carapace had descended on her, covering every inch of her.

As he looked back at her Nikos felt his gaze hardening. Theos, but she was a cool piece. Coustakis blood ran in her veins, no doubt about that!

Revulsion shimmered through him. The woman he had held trembling in his arms last night seemed a thousand miles away, as if she had never been. This was the true Andrea Coustakis now. Like her grandfather—knowing the price of everything, the value of nothing.

And she knew her own price, that was for sure. He smiled grimly. Well, he knew her price too. And he would treat her accordingly.

He got to his feet.

'Well—' his voice was abrupt '—since we now both know where we stand, we can begin.'

She looked up at him, uncertain suddenly.

'Begin what?'

He flashed a smile. It had no humour in it.

'Our official betrothal.'

He reached down and took her hand, drawing her to her feet.

'And, though you might wish to seal such an event with a chequebook, I prefer a more traditional method—'

She had a fraction of a second to read his intent. It was utterly inadequate to allow her to react in time and pull away.

His kiss was deep and sensuous. Slow and possessive.

Very, very possessive.

His mouth moved over hers, lazily, exploringly, lastingly...

Making absolutely free with her.

She felt her stomach plummet to the floor, felt adrenaline flood through her veins, felt weakness debilitate her totally.

Felt her hand lift of its own accord and curl around his neck, splaying its fingers into his silky hair. Felt herself moan softly, helplessly, as he played with her mouth.

He let her go, casually unwinding her hand and letting it drop nervelessly to her side. Then he took her chin in his fin­gers and tilted it up. Her mouth was bee-stung, lips red and swollen. Aroused.

Her eyes were lustrous, wide and staring at him, her lashes thick and lush.

'You are an acquisition, Andrea Coustakis, that I shall very much enjoy making,' he said softly, gazing down at her with gleaming possession in his eyes. His voice dropped, making her heart stop. 'I look forward, very much to our personal merger...'

His meaning made perfectly clear, he stroked her cheek and stood back. Then he glanced at his watch.

'Come—we shall lunch, and show the world that Vassilis Inc has plans for Coustakis Industries.' -

He tucked her hand into his arm and led her off.

Andrea went with him helplessly. She hadn't a bone left in her body to resist.

The restaurant was plush and crowded. It was clearly excru­ciatingly expensive. Andrea didn't have to glance at the menu prices to know that.

As they'd walked in, she stiff and wary, concealing her ner­vousness at being in such a place, she'd felt every eye upon her. A covert glance around showed her that just about every­one here was male—the place was awash with suits. Very expensive suits. This was a place, she knew immediately, where the most successful businessmen in Athens took their lunch and cut their deals, made their contacts and their money.

The maitre d' who advanced upon them at their entrance knew her escort, that was obvious. His manner was oh-so-attentive, oh-so-deferential. Though the place looked packed, he did not seem in the least dismayed by the prospect of having to find a table for his latest arrivals.