She Can't Say No to the Greek Tycoon

Sophia Dimitria Paterson was twenty-three, had just finished her course in speech pathology, an only child. Her father had died in an industrial accident when she was five. Her mother had worked as a cleaner to support them.

He wondered how Petros Liakos would feel, learning his once-beloved daughter had spent years working double shifts to keep food on the table. Such a far cry from the pampered life she’d led in Greece.

Sophie had worked as a waitress part-time while she studied. She liked to party. Was outgoing and very popular, especially with young men.

Educated but no money. In fact, according to the financial report he’d just heard, Sophie Paterson had inherited a substantial debt from her mother.

Why didn’t she say something, damn it? Wasn’t it obvious what he wanted from her?

Or was she waiting for him to persuade her?

He darted a measuring glance her way. Surely not. She didn’t seem the type.

But then he had personal experience of exactly how acquisitive and devious women could be. It wasn’t a lesson he needed to learn twice.

Unable to contain the urgent need for a physical outlet for his tension, he shot to his feet, towering over her as she stared into space. He shoved his fists into his trouser pockets, hunching his shoulders against the hollowing pain he refused to admit into his consciousness.

For an instant her eyes met his. Then quickly she shifted her gaze. In that moment Costas felt the last of his hard-won control tear apart. The social niceties, the veneer of the civilised world were stripped away, like a long, uncoiling ribbon, leaving him free of everything but his desperation.

‘If it’s money you want there’s plenty of that to sweeten the choice for you.’

Her head swung round and she stared up at him, eyebrows arched. As if she didn’t already know just how wealthy the Liakos family was.

And their riches were nothing compared to his. Would she do what he wanted for money? He’d met too many people, including beautiful young women, who’d sell their integrity, much less some bone marrow, for a tiny fraction of his material wealth. And she was a Liakos. He knew exactly what that family was capable of.

Still, the idea that she could be bought sickened him. He swallowed down hard on the sour taste of disappointment and swung away from her.

‘Your grandfather set aside a legacy for Eleni. Money and company shares.’ His tone was clipped. Anything to get this over with. They’d strike a bargain and settle it.

He sensed her involuntary movement and knew he had her hooked. He heard her breath catch.

‘If the doctors say you’re a match and you go through with the procedure,’ he continued, ‘I’ll arrange to have that legacy passed to you instead. There’ll be no argument from your grandfather, I’ll guarantee it.’ He paused, letting her wait for the clincher. ‘I haven’t had it valued, but I guarantee it totals well into seven figures.’

Silence.

No doubt she was imagining what she could do with several million dollars. Already in debt, she’d be eager to take up the offer. ‘Is that all?’

‘What?’ He swu

ng round. She stood at his shoulder. Colour tinted her cheekbones and washed across her slender neck. Her eyes were brighter too.

Again he experienced that shaft of molten desire straight to his lower body. But now he felt contaminated by it. Even in lust his taste was usually more discriminating. Gold-diggers had never held any appeal for him.

‘Is that the last of your offers?’ she asked.

He ignored her attempt to bargain for more and cut to the chase. ‘You’ll agree to be tested and take my terms?’

‘I’ll agree to nothing, you arrogant bully.’

He stared down, shocked to realise the gleam of avarice in her eyes was instead a flare of blatant fury. No sign here of a grasping, money-hungry opportunist. She looked as if she’d like to tear his eyes out.

Could he have got it wrong?

‘You might think you’re a big man but you’re just a hollow sham.’ She shoved her mass of riotous hair back behind her shoulder and squared up to him, toe to toe. Her head barely topped his shoulder. Her chin jutted at an impossible angle as she glared at him.

‘What gives you the right to assume that I’m some heartless, avaricious monster?’ She jabbed his chest with her index finger. ‘Who’d take money,’ jab, ‘to help a sick child?’ Jab and twist.

‘I bet you didn’t put this proposition to any of your relatives back in Greece, did you?’