Forgiven but Not Forgotten?

Siena blinked at Andreas, not understanding him. She shook her head. ‘What do you mean? I start work at six-thirty a.m. It takes me an hour to get there…’

Andreas’s face was so starkly beautiful in the dim light that she could feel herself being hypnotised. Much as she had been when she’d stood in front of him in that hotel boutique shop, in that dress. She’d taken it off after that night and thrown it in the bin, unable to look at it and not feel sickened.

He said now in a silky tone, ‘What I mean is that you have a choice, Siena… I’d like to offer you an alternative.’

It took a second…but then his words sank in along with the very explicit look in his eyes. Since she’d been in England other men had posed much the same question—like the man who had come back to get something from his hotel room and found her making his bed. Except what he’d been offering had been stated in much cruder terms.

Shame and something much hotter curled through her belly, making self-disgust rise. She took a sidestep back and injected as much icy disdain as she could into her voice. ‘If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting then clearly you refuse to believe that I want you to leave me alone.’

Andreas took a step closer and panic spiked in Siena, making her take another step back. She felt out of her depth and unbelievably vulnerable. All

of the familiar surroundings of her old life were gone. The part she’d played had been as good as scripted. Now she was utterly defenceless, and the one man in the world who hated her guts was propositioning her. And she hated that it didn’t disgust her the way it should.

He reached out to trail a finger down one cheek, across her jawbone and down to where the pulse beat hectically under her skin at her throat. ‘Even now you affect disgust, but your body betrays you. What happened in Paris…you were as involved as I was—as hot and eager as anything I’ve ever seen. And yet you didn’t hesitate to shift the blame to me to keep yourself pure in your father’s bigoted eyes. God forbid the untouchable heiress had been rolling around on a chair with a mere hotel employee.’

Siena slapped his hand away and stepped back, hating how breathy she sounded. ‘Get out of here now, Xenakis. Rehashing the past is of no use.’

The anger Andreas had been keeping in check spilled over into his voice. ‘You can’t bring yourself to offer up even the most grudging of apologies, can you? Even now, when you don’t have a cent to your name or a reputation to safeguard.’

Shame gripped Siena—and guilt. Ineffectually she said, ‘I…am…sorry.’

Derision laced Andreas’s voiceas he sneered, ‘Spare me the insincere apology when it’s all but dragged from you.’

His face was suddenly etched with self-disgust, and he half turned from Siena, raking his hair with a hand. She had a vivid memory of seeing him the following morning, shocked at his black eye and swollen jaw. Evidence of her father’s men’s dirty work. She’d tried to apologise then, but hadn’t been able to speak over his very justified wrath.

Contrition and a stark desire to assure him that she was truly sorry made her reach out impulsively to touch his sleeve. She dropped her hand hurriedly when he looked at her suspiciously. She gulped under his almost black gaze and said truthfully, ‘I never intended to…to lie about what happened. Or that you should lose your job.’

Andreas smiled, but it was harsh. ‘No, possibly you didn’t. You would have had your fun with me on the chaise longue of that boutique and then you would have gone on your way, with another notch on your busy bedpost. You forget that I know exactly what you girls were like: avaricous, bored and voracious. But you hadn’t counted on Papà finding you in flagrante delicto, and you made sure that he would not suspect his precious daughter had such base desires. It was much easier to accuse a poor Greek hotel employee.’

Siena blanched. That was exactly what she had done. But not for her survival, for her sister’s. That was something she could never imagine explaining to this intractable, vengeful man. Especially not when Serena was still so vulnerable. And not when Siena was still reeling with the effect he had on her.

Andreas slashed his hand through the air and said curtly, ‘You’re right, though. Rehashing the past is of no use.’

Those dark blue eyes narrowed on Siena again, with a renewed gleam of something that looked suspiciously like determination.

‘Are you really telling me you’re so proud that you relish living like this?’ His voice became cajoling. ‘Don’t you miss sleeping until lunchtime and having nothing to worry about other than what time you’ve scheduled your beauty appointments or which dress you’ll wear that evening?’ He continued relentlessly. ‘Are you really expecting me to believe that you wouldn’t have all that back if you could? That you wouldn’t seize the opportunity to walk amongst your peers again?’

Siena felt sick. The thought of allowing this man to get any closer, where he could possibly discover the vulnerability hidden deep inside her, made her break out in a cold sweat. He thought she had the wherewithal to handle him, that it would be second nature, when she didn’t have the first clue about handling a man like him.

She pushed aside the fact that her apology had been as futile as she’d believed it would be and tossed her head in her most haughty fashion, eyes flashing. ‘I would prefer to clean your toilets rather than do as you’re suggesting. Perhaps you think that because I’m desperate I’ll say yes to becoming your mistress. Is that it, Xenakis?’

Andreas smiled and bared his teeth. ‘I thought I told you to call me Andreas—and, yes, I think you’ll agree because you miss your life of luxury. But, more than that, because despite everything you want me…’

Siena went cold. She did want him, but he had no clue who she really was, or why she’d had to betray him so awfully. He had no idea about the tender beating inner heart of her that had very fragile hopes and dreams for a life far from the one she knew. He only saw a spoilt ruined heiress and a way to humiliate her. Because she’d rejected him. He had no idea who she’d had to protect, and that that was why she’d let him be accused in the worst way possible. She’d had no choice.

She knew now that, if given a chance, this man would take her and humiliate her for his own pleasure. For revenge.

In her most cutting voice Siena said, ‘Contrary to your over-inflated view of your own levels of attraction, I do not want you. I may well be in a desperate situation Mr Xenakis, but I still have my pride and I wouldn’t become your mistress for your sick amusement if you were the last man on this earth.’

Andreas looked at the woman standing just a few feet away from him and felt like clapping. Her clothes were crumpled and stained, her hair was tumbled around her face and shoulders in messy golden abandon, but she could have been a queen berating a lowly subject. And he wanted her with a hunger bordering on the very word she’d used herself: desperation.

He growled, ‘I’m not in the habit of propositioning women who don’t want me, Siena.’

She backed away at that, and reiterated with not a little desperation, ‘I don’t want you.’

‘Liar.’

She saw the danger in Andreas’s eyes. He advanced on her and she backed away, panic constricting her vocal cords, stopping her from saying anything. Panic at the awful, traitorous way her body was already getting hot, tingling with anticipation. If he kissed her now… Her mind blanked at the thought.