The Greek's Blackmailed Mistress

Apparently, Xan had met Angie when he was twenty-one and had asked her to marry him. Angie, however, had ditched him once it became clear that the Ziakis family was in serious debt following the death of Xan’s father. Within months she had married another man and moved to Switzerland to live and she was now a childless widow. Ariadne, Xan’s adoring mother, was convinced that Angie was broke and on the prowl for a wealthy second husband. But Xan was no fool, Elvi reflected wryly. She just couldn’t see him falling for the charms of an obvious gold-digger.

But if that was true, what was he playing at? He had not neglected Elvi in any way. He had sat beside her throughout the wedding breakfast staged back at the villa and had made very polite conversation, much as though they were chance-met strangers, rather than lovers. But once they were freed from their table and able to mingle, Xan had continually drifted in Angie’s direction, pausing to chat with the other woman at every opportunity, laughing and joking with her as if she were his long-lost best friend. Old friends catching up and able to relive fond memories now that their parting was well behind them?

Maybe so, but Elvi had also noticed the cool distance of Xan’s altered attitude towards herself and, whatever else that change denoted, she was convinced that he had decided that they were over. Why else would he behave in such a way? Besides, Angie Sarantos was absolutely stunning and Elvi knew she couldn’t hold a candle to her.

How any man could travel so fast from wanting her passionately only hours earlier to flirting madly with his ex, she had no idea. But then she wasn’t a transitory sort of person, was she? What she did feel, she felt deeply and the sentiment stayed with her. Xan, however, had only felt lust for her, nothing profound or more lasting.

Bearing those realities in mind, why did she currently feel as if she had been punched in the stomach? Why was she in shock? Why was she hurt? Where had those responses come from? In truth she hurt as much as if Xan had taken a hammer to her heart and smashed it to pieces and she hated herself for that anguished sense of rejection and disillusionment, when instead she knew she should’ve been celebrating the prospect of returning to her own life, the life he had so ruthlessly yanked her out of.

Clearly, beneath the surface show of her hostility, she had contrived to become more emotionally attached to Xan than she had been prepared to acknowledge. That shamed her and put her on her mettle to appear untouched by the little drama of the flirtation that every other wedding guest appeared to find a source of fascination. You couldn’t fall in love with anyone that quickly, she reasoned angrily with herself; it just wasn’t possible. Possibly her pride was hurt, that foolish part of her that had unwisely revelled in Xan’s seemingly overwhelming desire for her ordinary self. Pride cometh before a fall, she reminded herself studiously, trying to keep a smile pinned to her lips, struggling to stop her gaze tracking Xan or Angie round the room.

For that reason, it was a surprise when Xan appeared at her side and suggested they dance. Elvi gave him a pained glance and shook her head. ‘No, thanks,’ she said quietly.

She was pale, her eyes shadowed and for a split second Xan’s resolve almost faltered, but the growing conviction that he was finally doing what he should’ve done some days earlier held him fast. He had to let her go: nothing else was acceptable and dragging out the process would be unnecessarily cruel.

‘Go off and enjoy yourself... I’m quite tired,’ Elvi insisted, not wanting his company if he was only putting on a show for the sake of appearances.

‘If you’re sure...’ Xan straightened back to his full height, avoiding a meaningful look from his brother, the priest, that warned him that Lukas was in the mood to preach. Aware of his family’s censorious appraisals, Xan decided it was time for a break to take care of some work and when the event was at an end he would speak to Elvi about her departure.

Alone again, Elvi walked outside onto the terrace and sat down, ostensibly to take in the panoramic view of the island and the sea. But she couldn’t see anything but Xan inside her head, sleek, darkly beautiful Xan with his dazzling eyes laughing with her, smiling with her, filling her with feelings that felt so natural to her that she had not even realised that she was falling for him.

Angie Sarantos strolled out with a champagne goblet cradled nonchalantly in one slender hand. ‘He’s bored with you,’ she murmured softly.

Elvi clenched her teeth hard. ‘Are you speaking to me?’

‘I imagine you hate my guts,’ Angie remarked. ‘But Xan and I have something special. I didn’t know how special it was until I lost it. Point is, I made a mistake nine years ago and I know it.’

Elvi was reluctant to engage with the brunette in any way. ‘It’s none of my business—’

‘It’s not,’ Angie agreed. ‘But I won’t let anyone come between me and Xan.’

Elvi’s phone vibrated with a text and she pulled it out as an excuse and stood up. ‘Excuse me, I have to take this—’

Stepping back into the cool air-conditioned interior, Elvi read the text from her mother and a wave of dizziness ran over her, perspiration beading her upper lip. Her brother, Daniel, had been injured in a car accident and he was in hospital. Suddenly, Elvi was desperate to get home and be with her family.

‘Are you all right?’ Hana asked her worriedly. ‘You’re as white as a sheet. Sit down for a moment—’

‘No, I need to speak to Xan,’ Elvi broke in apologetically. ‘Do you know where he is?’

Minutes later, Elvi entered Xan’s office on the ground floor. He was standing by the window, talking in French on the phone. Some words she vaguely recognised from school but most were incomprehensible as she hovered just over the threshold staring at him. For probably the last time, she reasoned numbly.

‘I want to go home,’ she declared shakily. ‘My brother’s in hospital.’

And from that point on, everything moved on oiled wheels. In fact, she had the feeling that Xan couldn’t get her off the island of Thira fast enough because he could not have been more helpful. He insisted that she travel back on his private jet, instructed the staff to pack for her while also informing her that he had organised accommodation in London for her and that he would place money in her bank account.

‘But I don’t need accommodation or money!’

‘Of course, you do,’ Xan overruled without hesitation. ‘It’s my fault that you don’t have employment to return to and you need support to get back on your feet again. The apartment you

originally moved into is up for sale at present, so naturally I will provide somewhere else for you to stay.’

And at that point Elvi simply stopped arguing because arguing with Xan was exhausting. He would regroup and address the topic from another angle, usually one she hadn’t yet thought of. What did strike her like a blow was his eagerness to speed her on her way and ease her passage with his wealth.

‘You don’t need to feel guilty that we’re over,’ Elvi told him abruptly, the reproof literally leaping straight from her brain onto her tongue. ‘We didn’t suit. We’re like oil and water—’

Xan froze, his lean, powerful physique pulling taut, and his magnificent eyes flashed pure gold. ‘I’m not feeling guilty. Why would I feel guilty?’

Her stomach already rolling with nausea, Elvi decided not to mention Angie. Why go there when she didn’t have to and her family emergency had given Xan a ready excuse to move her back out of his life again as fast as he had dragged her into it?