see.’
‘I’m Greek,’ he reminded her gently, the hard glint in his eyes negating the apology in his tone. ‘We’re a very possessive race, I’m afraid. Not that great at sharing. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is. I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it. You probably ought to be grateful to me. You never would have been happy with a man like him.’
‘You’re doing this on purpose! You’re trying to make me loathe you so much that I just give you the jewel to get you out of my life. Well, it isn’t going to happen. You are not going to get away with treating women badly any longer. This time, you’re going to pay the price.’
The driver steered the car through the heavy London traffic and Angie sat back against the seat, fuming. And panicking. She realised suddenly that she hadn’t actually believed for a moment that he’d agree to her proposition and the implications of her revenge plan suddenly hit home. She was used to a quiet, ordered life. Never would she have described herself as a tense person but every time Nikos strolled into the room her stress levels seemed to rocket. Her insides churned and her whole body behaved in a way that was completely inexplicable. It was all very well forcing him to marry her, but how was she going to stand being with him day after day? He’d be in the office, she reminded herself quickly. And she could always find somewhere quiet to read in the evenings.
And anyway, none of this was about her. It was about Tiffany. She owed it to her sister to at least make him think about what he’d done.
But what about him? Why had a man like him, a man who had spent his entire adult life avoiding commitment, accepted the idea of marriage so readily?
Did he want the jewel that badly or was marriage to her simply not as distasteful as she’d believed it would be?
She looked at him for a moment, studying his cold, handsome face through narrowed eyes and suddenly knew exactly why the idea of marriage didn’t disturb him as much as it should. Obviously he wasn’t the sort of man to allow a little thing like a wedding to stand in the way of his continual pursuit of women. Just like her father, he was clearly planning to have numerous extramarital affairs and if he did that then it would defeat the purpose of forcing him to marry her. He wouldn’t suffer at all.
What could she do? What could she do that would actually have an impact on him? Her mind working fast, she thought hard about the sort of man he was—all the things she‘d ever read about him. Nikos was a prime example of man at its most basic. All that seemed to matter to him was sex. Inspiration struck and suddenly she knew exactly how she could make her revenge all the more sweet.
‘I wish to see a lawyer,’ she blurted out quickly. ‘If we’re going to get married then there are going to be certain conditions. I want a pre-nuptial agreement.’
He threw back his head and laughed in genuine amusement. ‘If you think I would marry you without a pre-nuptial agreement then you truly know nothing about the man you’re taking on. I’ve already told you, if you’re hoping for money you can forget it because you won’t get a single penny out of me. And why you would think you need a pre-nuptial agreement completely escapes me.’
She gave him a superior smile. ‘That’s because you don’t tend to use your brain very much, do you? Like most men, you think with an entirely different part of your anatomy.’
She’d never imagined that such a powerfully built man could move so fast. He was as swift and silent as a predator closing in on its prey. One moment he was lounging with careless indifference against the furthest edge of the car, the next his hand was clamped in her hair and her body was pressed up against his as he held her captive. It was primal, basic, male on female and she felt everything inside her lurch.
‘What are you doing?’ Breathless, her heart pounding against her chest, she pushed at the hard muscle of his shoulders but he didn’t shift. ‘Get off! Let me go.’
‘Do you know what I really think, agape mou?’ His mouth was so close to hers that she could feel his breath warming her lips and she didn’t dare move even a fraction because then their mouths would touch. This close she could see the thickness of his lashes, the seductive curve of his mouth and the darkening shadow on his jaw. ‘I think that after a less than stimulating evening staring at your Cyril, you’re dying to know what it’s like to be kissed by a man like me.’
She stared at him, hypnotised by the slumberous look in his molten eyes and the soft drawl of his slightly accented voice. ‘I’ve told you a million times, he’s isn’t my Cyril and you have a ridiculously high opinion of yourself.’
‘I have an entirely accurate opinion of myself,’ he amended, ‘whereas you don’t appear to know yourself at all. I’m starting to think it might be interesting to show you who you really are. You, who spend your life unearthing the secrets of others, might be about to discover a few secrets about yourself.’
He felt hard, tough and masculine. Her stomach tumbled and lurched and she tried again to push him away. ‘You’re making me hot—’
‘I know. I’m very experienced with women. I can tell that you’re very turned on.’ His voice was a soft purr and she felt her temper flare.
‘I meant that the weather is too warm to have you lying on top of me.’ She glared at him and he shifted away from her with athletic grace.
‘Of course, if you want to blame the weather for your current hot flush then that’s fine by me.’
She decided not to dignify his mocking statement with a reply. ‘Where are we going?’ Turned on? She wasn’t turned on. She was outraged. She wriggled as far away from him as possible, aware of his gaze lingering on her hair. ‘Stop staring at me. And don’t even think about telling me I need highlights and a haircut.’
He was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on her hair. In fact he stared at her for so long that she started to squirm in her seat. All right, she knew that she probably didn’t pay enough attention to her appearance, but did he really have to labour the point?
But before she could open her mouth and issue another verbal attack, he lifted a hand and touched her hair, twisting a silky strand round his long bronzed fingers. ‘Your hair is a very unusual colour. Vibrant. Changing it would be nothing short of criminal.’ His fingers slid slowly through her hair in a gesture that seemed astonishingly intimate. ‘And I wouldn’t say it needs cutting either. Most men find long hair more erotic in bed.’
Transfixed by the look in his eyes, she felt the temperature inside her soar to dangerous levels and jerked away from him. ‘You’re impossible! Do you really think I wear my hair long because it is more erotic in bed?’
‘No.’ He gave a slow smile and moved his hand, allowing her hair to fall back to her shoulder. ‘I don’t think you know the meaning of the word erotic.’
‘Well, that’s where you happen to be wrong,’ she said primly, relieved to finally be on familiar ground. ‘The word “erotic” derives from Eros, who was the God of love in Greek mythology and said by most legends to be the son of Aphrodite, the Goddess of love and Ares, the God of War.’
He studied her in silence for a moment and then gave a faint smile. ‘Actually, many would argue with you on that point. Some believe that Eros was descended from Chaos and he was the God of Lust, not love. Of passion and sex.’ His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze disturbingly intense. ‘But this is all very boring and I wasn’t actually talking about the derivation of the word,’
