The Greek's Virgin Bride

The knocking came again, even more imperative.

'Right,' said Andrea, 'I've had enough of this.'

She marched out of the kitchen and to the front door, ready to confront them, but the dark outline showing behind the strengthened frosted glass panel revealed a tall, masculine frame.

The demanding knocking came again, and Andrea heard the futile buzz of the broken doorbell being sounded. Like so much else on the estate, it was soil waiting for the council to mend it.

As she yanked the door open to find steel-grey eyes blazing down at her, her heart stopped.

Nikos Vassilis stepped inside, forcing her to stumble back wards on numb, frozen legs.

'Don't ever,' he said in a voice that made her spine chill, 'walk out on me again.'

Shock drenched through Andrea, wave after cold wave. But beneath the disbelieving horror another emotion had seared like flame through her.

'How—how...?' she floundered.

'How did I track you down? With great difficulty, I assure you!' His voice grated the words. He glanced around dispar­agingly at the shabby, narrow hallway, its smell of damp quite perceptible. 'And with such a bolt-hole as this I am not sur­prised it took the investigators so long to find you! What is this dump?' His mouth twisted disdainfully at the evident pov­erty of her surroundings.

"This dump,' said a quiet voice from the kitchen doorway, 'is my home, Mr—?'

Andrea whirled. Kim was standing there, her expression wary and questioning.

'Vassilis,' supplied Nikos curtly. 'Nikos Vassilis. I have come for Andrea.'

‘I’m not going with you!' Andrea cried out. She couldn't believe what was happening—couldn't believe it was really Nikos standing there, his svelte, expensive presence shrieking money, looking as out of place in the hallway of a tower block council flat as if he were an alien from another planet.

'What's going on?' asked Kim anxiously, coming forward.

'Nothing! Nothing at all,' Andrea replied instantly. ‘Mr Vassilis,' she gritted, 'has made a mistake! He's leaving right now! Without me!'

'Wrong.' Nikos's voice was deadly. His eyes narrowed. 'Get your things—and make sure your passport is among them!'

'I'm not going anywhere!'

'You are going,' he ground out, 'back to Athens! You were somewhat premature in your departure, I must point out. You might have got the money you wanted from your grand­father—your main interest, was it not—?' his voice was scath­ing '—but your precipitate departure has made him feel... cheated.

He wants you back in Athens to fulfil your...obligations. Otherwise,' he spelt out, 'he will not proceed with the merger!'

It was her turn for her face to harden.

'Oh, well, we mustn't get in the way of the precious merger, must we?' she flared, 'That was, after all, your main interest, was it not?' Deliberately she echoed his words, confronting him with the truth of why he had ever looked twice at her!

It did not hit its mark.

'There were other...interests...as I recall... Ones that I fully intend to resume when you return to Athens to fulfil your...obligations. Ne?’ His voice trailed off, but his eyes washed over her. Weakness flooded through her—and mem­ory—hot, humid memory.

He saw it in her eyes, and smiled. A blighting smile that had no humour in it. 'You see, I too, Andrea mou, feel cheated by your precipitate and so unexpected departure.'

She heard the anger in his voice—suppressed, restrained, but savage beneath the words. There was something more than an­ger hi it too, she realised. Something raw, and painful.

Then he had snapped his gaze past her, the tight, controlled mask back on his face, and rested it where Kim was hovering, a puzzled, anxious look on her face.

'I

need to speak to Andrea. Privately. If you would be so kind—?'

'I've got nothing to say to you!' Andrea flashed back at him.