she stopped trying to pull his hands away she would never know. Nor would she be able to say when she moved her own hands and arms to wind their way up and over his shoulders.
She only knew that all reality had ceased to exist as they kissed and kissed with furious intensity. Their bodies were tight together and she pressed against the long, lean hardness of him. The thundering beating of their hearts was drowning out voices, concerns. She strained against him, on tiptoe to get even closer … could feel the unmistakable signs of his burgeoning arousal, and when she felt that her brain melted completely.
And then all of a sudden it was over, and he was stepping back from her. Angel made an awfully betraying move towards him, as if loath to let him go, her hands still outstretched from where they’d been wrapped like clinging vines around his shoulders. It was only then that she noticed her hands were held in his… . and the awful suspicion arose. Had he had to forcibly take them down? Mortification flooded Angel even as she tried to assess the situation, gather her scattered nerves. Her heart still hammered. She was mute. Dizzy.
Leonidas Parnassus just looked at her, his face flushed … with anger? Or satisfaction that he’d proved himself right? Angel’s mortification rose to a new level.
A discreet cough came from close by, and then a voice.
‘Sir? If you could join your father inside now … please?’
Leonidas just looked at Angel, nothing given away on his face. It held a steely imperviousness that she would never have guessed the teasing man she’d met earlier to possess.
‘I’ll be right in.’ Leonidas pitched his voice to reach the hovering staff member, but his eyes never left hers. He seemed to be utterly in control, apart from that betraying colour in his cheeks. She felt as if she was unravelling at the seams.
‘I—’ Angel began ineffectually.
He cut her off with an autocratic, ‘Wait for me here. I’m not done with you yet.’
And with that he turned on his heel, and Angel watched him stride powerfully back into the thronged room, raking a hand through his hair as he did so. His back was huge and broad in the black of his tuxedo.
She couldn’t believe what had just happened.
In shock she put a finger to her mouth, where her lips felt plump and bruised. Thoroughly kissed. In a fresh rush of embarrassment and disgust Angel could remember wantonly arching her body even closer to his … almost as if she’d wanted to climb into his skin. Not even in the most passionate moment of her relationship with Achilles had she felt that intensity of desire, every thought wiped clean from her mind. But then, she recalled bitterly, that had been part of the problem …
Angel felt raw and exposed, and painful memories were surging back, as if it wasn’t awful enough to deal with what had just happened.
She heard a hush descend on the crowd in the salon, and searched for some means of escape. Finally, growing desperate, she spotted where some steps led down from the patio to the lower levels, and presumably back around to the kitchen. Hurrying down, she knew that she could forget about her job. The incident with the wine would have sealed her fate anyway; her disappearance with the guest of honour would have merely ensured it.
If her boss hadn’t known the significance of who she was, he soon would, and she didn’t want to be around to witness that.
Down in the kitchen she grabbed her things, and then crept out and headed down the drive, away from the glittering villa, not looking back once.
Leo stood and listened to his father’s unashamedly emotional speech, Georgios Parnassus made no secret of the fact that he was ready to hand over the reins of power to Leo. The prospect of a shift in power had been evident in the room instantaneously. Again, Leo felt that welling of some ancient pride, that sense of right to be here. While he wasn’t going to give the old man the satisfaction of capitulating so easily, he couldn’t deny the sense of needing to stake his own claim to his birthright, the birthright that had been stolen from him.
His old man was no fool. No doubt he’d banked on exactly this by asking him to come to Greece, but Leo was not about to let him see that he might have won so soon.
Even while Leo was able to function and articulate his thoughts and intentions as the rapturous applause died away after his father’s speech and the din of conversation rose again, his body still hummed with desire for the woman he’d left outside on the patio. He flicked a glance to the doors, once again open, but couldn’t see her. Irritation prickled to think she might have moved. He’d told her to wait for him. He was trapped now, though, by the usual sycophants, all vying to get a slice of him.
He chafed to leave, to get back outside, finish what they’d started, and that irked him. Here he was at the potential forking of the road in his life, a huge moment, and all he could think about was a sexy waitress who’d had the temerity to blow hot and cold and then hot again. Anger gripped him, surprising him. He’d never encountered that before. He’d had women play hard to get in an effort to snag his interest and it never worked. He didn’t indulge in games. The women in his life were experienced, mature … and knew the score. No emotional entanglement and no game-playing.
But when she had looked at him as if he’d been some callow youth trying to maul her … he’d seen red. He’d never felt that singular desire before to prove someone wrong, to imprint himself on a woman. He’d never felt such a ruthless need to kiss anyone like that … and then, when he’d felt her initial struggle fade, when he’d felt her grow hot and wanton in his arms, kissing him back almost as if her life—
‘Georgios couldn’t have been more obvious—so, are you ready to take the bait, Parnassus?’
Leo was so helplessly deep in his thoughts that it took a second for his brain to function and come back into the room. The fawning crowd surrounding him was gone. He blinked and saw that Aristotle Levakis, his father’s business partner, was looking at him expectantly. Leo liked Ari Levakis; they’d worked closely together at the time of the merger, albeit with Leo based in New York. But, much to his chagrin now, he had to force himself to remember what Ari had just said.
He couldn’t shake the building tension, wanting to get back out to her. What if she’d gone? He didn’t even know her name. He forced himself to smile and joked, ‘You think I’m going to discuss it with you and have any decision I make all over Athens by morning?’
Ari tutted good-naturedly. Leo tried to concentrate on their conversation even as he looked for glossy brown hair piled high, exposing a delicate jaw and neck.
He missed something Ari said then, and cursed himself. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘That I was surprised to see her here. I saw you taking her outside—did you ask her to leave?’ Ari was shaking his head. ‘I’ll admit she has some nerve …’
Leo went very still. ‘Her?’
‘Angel Kassianides. Tito’s eldest daughter. She was here working as a waitress … She spilt wine over Pia Kyriapoulos and you took her outside. I think everyone presumed that you were telling her where to go.’ Ari looked around for a moment. ‘And I haven’t seen her since, so whatever you said worked.’
Leo had an instant reaction to hearing the Kassianides name mentioned. It was the name of their enemy; a name that represented loss, pain, humiliation, and unbelievable heartache. He frowned, trying to understand. ‘Angel
