The Greek's Blackmailed Mistress

‘No, we don’t—’

‘What weight are you?’ Xan shot back at her.

And she told him and he told her she couldn’t possibly be that weight, standing up to set her down on her feet and lifting her again with a very funny fake grunt of effort that made her giggle helplessly. Xan mock-collapsed back into his seat still gripping her tight before hoisting her up on her knees to sit facing astride him, disconcerting her, killing her giggling fit.

‘I wouldn’t admit to being that heavy if I wasn’t,’ she pointed out more circumspectly, barely able to catch her breath that close to him, uneasy at the sudden intimacy, wondering how to remove herself back to her own seat without making a production out of it.

Xan stared down at her ripe pink lips and surrendered to the inevitable without an ounce of concern. He teased at that full lower lip, pressed them softly apart, darted, delved with enthusiasm and felt every inch of her tighten and quiver with response against him. His fingers trailed up a slim silky thigh to the heart of her, teasing fingers sliding below her knickers to locate the most sensitive spot and dallying there to make her moan feverishly into his mouth.

Elvi knew she ought to tell him to stop but she couldn’t fight the seduction of sensation engulfing her in a shimmying surge of intense pleasure. She trembled over him, breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding inside her with electrifying anticipation. She squirmed as he stroked and teased and what she had believed she would never welcome again, she suddenly wanted with ferocious intensity. She buried her face against his shoulder, frantically breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, pressing her mouth against the strong brown column of his throat until his other hand caught into her hair to yank her head up. He drove her soft lips apart with a savage kiss of sizzling hunger at the same time as the tightening bands of tension in her pelvis sent her rocketing to her peak. Gasping, moaning, sobbing for breath, she came apart in his arms, shattered into so many pieces she barely recognised herself any more.

Xan settled her back into her seat and, although he was hugely aroused, his frustration was soothed by her explosive reaction to him. It was so honest, so real, like no connection he had ever had with a woman before and it excited him way beyond his experience. As Elvi focused on him in a daze of post-climactic bewilderment, as if she didn’t quite know what had happened to her, Xan awarded her a dazzling smile of appreciation.

‘Later, moli mou,’ he savoured with growly masculine satisfaction.

CHAPTER SEVEN

NOTHING COULD HAVE prepared Elvi for the startling effect of Xan’s mother, Ariadne, whose temperament was so very different from her only child’s.

A helicopter had delivered Xan and Elvi to the huge sprawling white villa that overlooked a wooded cove on the island of Thira. As she climbed out a small woman accompanied by a pack of dogs stood up from a seat on the wide front terrace and came hurrying down the steps to eagerly greet them, dogs leaping and bouncing in concert. And from that moment, Elvi doubted that even Xan had managed to get a word in edgeways, for Ariadne talked in a constant stream, hopping confusingly from one topic to the next. She spoke fluent English, however, relieving Elvi’s main fear that Xan would be the only person around who understood her, and the older woman was both friendly and welcoming.

On the way through the opulent house, Elvi received a stream of information. Ariadne’s mother had been English and Ariadne did not normally live in the big villa, having her own home in the village by the harbour. But when Xan entertained the wider family, Ariadne always acted as his hostess.

‘First wife seniority!’ Ariadne joked. ‘Xan doesn’t like his stepmothers much but he accepts his brothers and sisters and, naturally, Delphina wanted her wedding staged here and her brother doing the service—’

‘Her brother’s a priest?’

‘Lukas is a Greek Orthodox priest and Tobias, the other son, is gay. Not that I’m criticising, but Xan did turn out more conventional than his brothers,’ Ariadne proclaimed with pride. ‘And it goes without saying that he’s the cleverest. Delphina’s a dear, you’ll love her. She and Takis fell in love at school, almost like Helios and me... Xan’s father, you know. But of course, Helios and I didn’t attend the same school. I was the village doctor’s daughter and we met when he went fishing. Like Xan, Helios was gorgeous.’ Ariadne loosed an extravagant sigh as if she was looking back in time before continuing briskly, ‘But he was also weak and unreliable and quite unable to keep his trousers zipped. Not very good at making money either. By the time Helios passed he had even mortgaged this house. Xan rescued all of us from penury.’

‘Xan’s...’ Elvi hesitated as the eyes of Xan’s mother locked with fixed attention to her face. ‘He’s quite a character,’ she pronounced lamely.

The older woman showed the way into a bedroom where confusion seemed to have broken out between two maids over Elvi’s luggage. Ariadne smiled even wider and rested a supervisory hand on Elvi’s arm to guide her away from the small domestic dispute they had interrupted. ‘Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting for my son to bring a woman home with him?’ she asked earnestly.

‘Oh...’ Elvi reddened. ‘Xan and I are not...er, serious or anything like that,’ she hastened to declare.

‘Xan doesn’t know how to do serious. Not after witnessing the sort of shenanigans he grew up with in this house...all those wives, the live-in lovers who didn’t make it to the altar, the screaming dramas,’ Ariadne told her with scorn. ‘All Helios’s children suffered but Xan was older and he endured the most.’

Elvi frowned. ‘He lived with his father, not you, after...er...the divorce?’

‘Helios refused to give up custody of his eldest son. I was distraught. Losing your husband to another woman and then losing your only child at almost the same time was a huge shock for me.’ Ariadne paused in the sunlit corridor lined with magnificent paintings, her rounded but still attractive face fu

ll of remembered pain and regret. ‘I was young and heartbroken but I was also selfish. I walked away to make a fresh start instead of staying on the island and accepting that I could only be a part-time mother to my son.’

Elvi was listening closely, deeply interested in what she was learning about Xan’s childhood. ‘Walked away?’ she encouraged, impatient to hear more.

But Ariadne, who had paused on the threshold of a much larger and more magnificent bedroom than she had previously shown to Elvi, was no longer looking at her. She was studying her son and she addressed him in Greek, her attitude one of humour while Xan stood there, his tall, powerful figure rigid, his bronzed face impassive, responding to the older woman with a non-committal shrug that nonetheless telegraphed a temper on a short fuse to Elvi’s increasingly observant eyes. Faint dark colour edged his killer cheekbones, a gleam of hot gold brightening his gaze.

‘I will leave you with your...friend.’ Xan’s mother laughed in emphasis, standing back as Elvi’s cases were brought in. ‘Dinner is in an hour.’

Xan strode out onto the balcony that overlooked the sea. The Aegean Sea, almost as blue as Elvi’s eyes, he brooded grimly, exasperated by his mother’s infantile game-playing.

‘So...’ Elvi hovered uncertainly by the glass doors. ‘What was that all about?’

Xan swung back, lithe as a jungle predator and as immaculate as he had been at dawn that morning, shirt still crisp and white, tie still straight. No, he badly needed a shave, she noted with relief, grateful he wasn’t quite perfect when the linen sundress she had worn from travelling was as creased as though she had slept in it and bore a coffee stain.

‘I haven’t brought a woman to the island with me before.’

‘I know. Your mother said.’