The Greek's Blackmailed Mistress Page 8

‘What are you doing with me?’

  ‘I was putting you in bed—’

  ‘But I can’t go to bed with wet hair!’ she gasped.

  Mouth compressing, Xan set her down again. ‘Just wrap it in a towel and go to bed,’ he urged.

  ‘Have you any idea what it would look like in the morning if I did that?’ Elvi exclaimed in receipt of that ill-advised male suggestion.

  ‘Does it matter?’ Xan traded from the doorway.

  Elvi huffed and knotted the overly large towel round her ribcage to prevent it from falling and exposing her even more. Having found her naked in the bath, he had already seen it all anyway, she reminded herself ruefully. She dug into her toiletries bag for a comb and met his brilliant dark eyes in the mirror. ‘I’ll dry it,’ she muttered unevenly, disconcerted by the reality that he was still standing there.

  ‘Don’t fall asleep in the bath again. It’s dangerous—’

  ‘I’m not elderly or infirm. First taste of water I got would’ve wakened me!’ Elvi told him with spirit. ‘Tell me, do you always imagine the worst possible consequences from every event?’

  ‘Pretty much.’ Xan was studying her, noting the porcelain fairness of her skin below the lights, remembering how soft she had felt under him, the little sounds she had made, the dreamy look on her face when she climaxed. Hunger throbbed through him like a powerful drug, seriously disturbing him.

  ‘Thought so,’ Elvi confided cheerfully, finished combing and reaching for the dryer on the wall.

  ‘There’s something we have to discuss,’ Xan told her tautly then.

  ‘And what’s that?’ Elvi pressed, her hand falling back from the dryer.

  ‘I failed to use a condom with you today—’

  ‘What?’ Elvi gasped in disbelief as she twisted around to look directly at him, heavy wet strands of hair snaking across her bare shoulders. ‘You mean...we had unprotected sex?’

  Lean, strong features set hard, Xan jerked his chin in confirmation.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ Elvi framed in horror. ‘Why didn’t you—?’

  ‘I lost control... I forgot. I made a mistake. It’s that simple,’ Xan interposed in a tone of curt finality. ‘Obviously I’m furious with myself, but I have regular health checks and there is no danger of—’

  ‘But what if you’ve got me pregnant?’ Elvi interrupted, her anxiety on that score overpowering her usual need to avoid any kind of intimate discussion.

  ‘I think there is very little danger of that after one sexual encounter,’ Xan informed her with impressive confidence, and some of her tension drained away because his unwavering assurance did have a soothing effect on her. ‘It’s most unlikely. I apologise, though, for causing the scare.’

  ‘No, I should’ve thought about the risk too,’ Elvi muttered uncomfortably, striving to be reasonable. ‘I should’ve checked but I didn’t even think about that...er...aspect.’

  In the bedroom, Xan undressed for a shower, automatically putting everything in its designated space. Busy drying her mane of hair, Elvi didn’t appear to notice him entering or leaving the shower and he slid into bed first, achingly aroused and knowing there was no possibility of relief. With a groan he turned over and punched a pillow, catching sight of her rustling through a drawer, emptying half of it in pursuit of what she wanted and then piling what remained back in and actually forcing the drawer closed on it. He tried to imagine living with that kind of disorder and almost shuddered, while covertly watching below his cloaking lashes as she crossed the room clad in the pyjamas from hell, which covered her from head and toe. She switched out the light on the far side of the bed and clambered in.

  The bedding smelt vaguely of Xan, Elvi conceded sleepily, and it was an oddly comforting scent. She refused to lie awake fretting about the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy, dimly deciding that Xan probably knew the odds better than her. If it happened, that would be time enough to worry, she told herself. There was no advantage to agonising in advance, and in any case she would have the confirmation one way or another within a very short time.

  He had given her something more to think about than the reality that she was sharing a bed with a man for the first time ever overnight, while she hoped he had got the message via the pyjamas that she was unavailable for anything more entertaining than sleep. Of course she knew there were other things that could be done that did not entail the final act that had left her body aching, but she was impossibly tired from all the stress of recent days.

  ‘Night, Xan,’ she mumbled, as if he were her roommate, and minutes later she was sound asleep.

  Xan lay awake marvelling at her seeming indifference to his presence. Random thoughts bombarded him like shrapnel. Was it an act aimed at challenging him? He really didn’t think so because there was nothing inviting or even slightly tantalising about those pyjamas. Obviously, she didn’t like her new wardrobe and he would have to try harder in that department. He had never actually spent the whole night with a woman before but did Elvi know that? Did she even care?

  And what had happened to wanting to get to know him? D for effort, Elvi, he mused, hugely irritated.

  * * *

  Elvi slept like a log and woke up in a surprisingly good mood. After all, yesterday she had crossed the sex bridge and now that apprehension was overcome, she reminded herself with determination. In addition, her mother and her brother were safe from prosecution and would soon be starting a new chapter in Oxford. Buoyant at how the worst of her fears had been vanquished, she bestowed a faint smile on Xan as he strolled out of the bathroom, immaculately dressed in his usual formal suit and looking spectacular as usual.

  ‘I haven’t even packed,’ she exclaimed in sudden dismay.

  It was the very first time she had smiled at him. Xan immediately forgave her for sleeping like the dead in his bed. ‘It’s very warm in Greece,’ he pointed out. ‘You’ll need different clothing and I’ve taken care of it—’

  ‘Oh, not more clothes!’ Elvi complained in dismay, her nose wrinkling. ‘I don’t need anything more. Honestly, I can make do fine with what I’ve already got—’

  ‘I will not be seen in public with a woman who is making do,’ Xan declared with perceptible distaste.

  ‘Of course, if you’re going to be snobbish about it—’

  ‘I’m not snobbish,’ Xan asserted in a roughened undertone. ‘But I do not wish you to be embarrassed by being inappropriately dressed.’

  Elvi got out of bed, as inappropriately dressed as any woman Xan had ever seen and she exhibited zero embarrassment over that reality. The pyjamas were downright ugly, baggy and shapeless on her small form as she breezed past him into the bathroom. Having Elvi for the night hadn’t proved much different from having one of his five-year-old nieces sleeping over. It was clean and innocent, not something that had much appeal for him. Belatedly he reminded himself that her stay and the trip were supposed to be all about her and not about him. He needed to ease his conscience and rise above the guilt and regret she had roused in him the day before. But there was no pressure on him to enjoy the process...

  Having established that it was barely six in the morning—no, Xan had not been joking about that early start—Elvi dressed in haste and joined him for breakfast in the elegant dining room. She was unsettled by the realisation that she was excited about travelling abroad for the very first time. Xan, however, seemed rather downbeat and prone to wincing when she spoke, necessarily dragging his attention from the newspaper he was reading. ‘Aren’t you pleased that you’re going to see your family today?’ she pressed.

  His high cheekbones pulled taut below his stunning amber eyes, his beautifully moulded mouth compressing. ‘I’m not particularly close to my siblings.’

  ‘But you’re the eldest,’ she said in surprise, adding a third spoon of sugar to her coffee beneath Xan’s frowning gaze. ‘Don’t they turn to you for advice? I
know Daniel does with me—’

  ‘They do,’ Xan confirmed. ‘I look after them. That’s my duty but that doesn’t mean they’re my best friends. I help them with problems—’

  ‘How many siblings do you have?’

  ‘Six,’ Xan said succinctly. ‘Four half-sisters, two half-brothers.’

  ‘So...’ Elvi rested inquisitive eyes on his lean, darkly handsome visage, momentarily reminding him of a baby bird seeking a titbit ‘...that means either your mother or your father had more than one marriage—’

  ‘My father was a five times loser at the altar,’ Xan supplied drily. ‘Two models and two beauty queens followed my mother and all four wives were greedy to feather their own nests.’

  ‘Oh...’ Elvi said nothing more, understanding a little more about his background than she had previously because a multi-married father, a possibly betrayed mother and a bunch of half-siblings implied a fairly dysfunctional family history, compared with her own. But she was reluctantly impressed by Xan’s assurance that he looked after his younger siblings, even though he didn’t consider himself close to them. ‘So, whose wedding are we attending?’

  ‘Delphina, the youngest one. She’s twenty. At an age when she ought to be out forging a career and a lively social life, she’s tying herself down,’ Xan declared with cynical disapproval. ‘She and Takis will be in the divorce court within five years.’

  Elvi winced. ‘If they truly love each other they’ll make it through,’ she argued.

  Xan rolled his eyes, unimpressed, and rustled his newspaper before dropping his head to give the printed word his full attention again. A shard of sunlight shone across the glossy blue-black strands of his hair, which he wore longer on top, shorn short at the sides. His wickedly long black lashes shielded his gaze from her, drawing her eyes down the straight blade of his nose to the faint dark shadow of stubble that shaded his golden skin even soon after shaving. Blinking in confusion, Elvi looked away, questioning her fascination, denying the licking little curl of heat uncoiling between her thighs, pressing them together to stop that betrayal in its tracks.

  She had to be his mistress but that didn’t mean she had to like it or blindly accept that she was attracted to him. She wasn’t going to play that game to his rules, wasn’t going to let sex seduce her into being disloyal to her own ideals. She didn’t want sex without feelings involved and wasn’t about to let her body mislead her. She was stronger than that...wasn’t she? If she let herself sink without trace into that sexual chemistry, it would only encourage him to hang on to her longer. And she didn’t want that, of course she didn’t, she told herself firmly.

  As Elvi drifted away from the table with all the precise direction of a dandelion seed blowing in the breeze, Xan watched her pause to look out of the window, almost trip over a chair and only then head towards the door. She lived inside her head more than she lived in the real world, he thought impatiently. Her nature was utterly alien to his and he couldn’t understand why he had the most ridiculous urge to smooth her passage through every obstacle.

  Returning to the bedroom, intending to make a start on that packing to be ready for their departure in an hour’s time, Elvi was perplexed to find Sylvia already there with suitcases and an assistant.

  ‘Tell me what you want to bring with you to Greece,’ Sylvia urged helpfully, as if it was no big deal to be standing in someone else’s bedroom working before seven in the morning.

  Being rushed through the VIP channel at the airport only heightened Elvi’s sense of anticipation, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, and, stepping onto Xan’s sleek private jet, she was unable to silence a small gasp of awe at the space in the cabin furnished with ivory leather seating and the kind of luxuries that even she, who had never flown before, knew were extravagances available only to the very wealthy. The svelte stewardess offered her an array of different coffees, a library of films, all the latest glossy magazines and even the option of a lie-down in the stateroom.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Xan instructed her tersely, wondering why she was still hovering in the middle of the aisle.

  ‘It’s my first flight,’ she whispered, not wanting any of the smartly uniformed cabin crew around them to hear. ‘I can’t help staring—’

  Xan closed a hand over hers and settled her down in the seat opposite his. ‘Life’s just full of firsts for you right now.’

  Elvi dealt him a stonily unamused glance and lifted her chin.

  ‘I’m not making fun of you... I’m not,’ Xan insisted, working hard not to laugh at that look she had given him, which had washed off him like a feather trying to beat up a rock. ‘But why haven’t you flown before? For most people it’s like catching a bus these days.’

  ‘You really don’t have a clue what my life has been like.’

  ‘Then educate me.’

  ‘You’d be bored,’ Elvi told him repressively, having caught the gleam of amusement in his gaze at her earlier naïve admission.

  His expectant silence nagged at her. ‘Obviously we never had the money to go on holidays,’ she admitted unwillingly.

  ‘Then why have a passport?’

  ‘Equally obviously people still like to live in hope.’

  ‘Even with an alcoholic parent?’

  ‘Sally went through a very tough time after my father died but she still adopted me,’ Elvi proclaimed defensively.

  ‘Adopted?’ Xan shot her a startled glance. ‘You were adopted?’

  Elvi sighed. ‘My mother was my father’s first wife but she died when I was a baby. Sally adored my dad but she always believed that he only married her to get a mother for me. He was a junior surgeon working long hours and it was difficult for him to cope with a kid at the same time,’ she told him. ‘When he died, Sally worried that someone might try to take me away from her—’

  ‘Presumably this adoption occurred before she took to the bottle?’ Xan slotted in, his careless wording exasperating Elvi.

  ‘Yes, but the point I’m trying to make is that, even in the midst of grieving for my dad, Sally was scared that I would be taken away from her because we weren’t related by blood—’

  A shapely black brow skated up. ‘And presumably you feel that you owe her something for that devotion. Did you ever check the terms of your father’s will?’

  The insinuation that her adoptive mother could’ve had something to gain from adopting her set Elvi’s teeth on edge but it struck her as typical of Xan’s intensely cynical outlook on life. ‘He didn’t leave a will. He wasn’t much older than you when he died from an aneurysm. Sally applied to adopt me because she loved me and wanted to keep me with her and Daniel.’

  ‘Then it sucks to be you,’ Xan could not resist saying, thinking about what he knew of alcoholic behaviour and how Elvi must’ve suffered throughout most of her childhood. How on earth, he marvelled, had she still contrived to form such an intense bond with her adoptive mother in spite of the woman’s failings? Betrayed or cheated by anyone, Xan never forgot or forgave. He drew a line and if it was crossed, that was that.

  ‘Well, it didn’t, not always,’ Elvi protested. ‘There were good times even when things were tough and she was never a nasty drunk, never abusive or violent. We were lucky.’

  Lucky? Xan swallowed back a derisive retort while he studied her animated face. She loved talking about her family, he noted, reckoning that he could use that to make her relax around him. Although, hadn’t he already used it? She had sacrificed her freedom and her virginity to preserve her precious family and he had taken what she gave without a moment’s hesitation. It was a sobering conclusion and he fell silent, irritated by the conscience that had come out of nowhere at him the day before to destroy his peace of mind. Elvi was as foreign to him as an alien would’ve been, he conceded grimly. That happy-clappy, positive attitude, that selfless streak of loyalty and love a mile wide. But no doubt his conscience would g
ive up the fight and die again through lack of encouragement.

  ‘So, where in Greece are we going exactly?’

  ‘Thira, the island where I was born, not the most exciting destination if you’re into partying,’ Xan pronounced, but his hard, dark eyes and his intonation could not hide his fondness for the place, Elvi noted with interest as she learned that what Xan said did not always match what she read in his voice or expression. He was inherently deceptive, calculating too, and far too clever for his own good, she reminded herself warningly, but she could not help remembering the man who had thought to drag Sylvia out at dawn to help Elvi pack for a society wedding because Elvi had not had a clue what to wear or of how hot it would be in Greece. Occasionally, he could be thoughtful and he could identify potential problems in advance in a way she could not.

  ‘And to celebrate the occasion of your very first flight...’ Xan murmured as the steward approached them with a bottle of champagne. ‘I know you don’t usually imbibe but surely one glass—?’

  Rather overwhelmed by the gesture he had made, Elvi nodded vigorous agreement, keen to prevent him from sharing all her secrets with the cabin staff. Xan paid no heed to hovering employees when he spoke, being apparently so accustomed to their presence that they might as well have been invisible. She clasped the moisture-beaded flute of champagne, bubbles bursting and tickling her nose as she sipped and politely smiled.

  ‘It wouldn’t have felt the same with orange juice,’ Xan asserted.

  She almost disagreed, tempted to say that it was the thought behind his gesture that mattered most, only such a comment seemed too revealing when she considered it and instead she said nothing. She sipped her drink while Xan told her about the island of Thira and his family home there. Only the family aspect didn’t seem to be on his radar because, while he told her that his grandfather had built the house and his father had extended it, he mentioned neither his mother nor his siblings again. He told her about the private beach where he had learned to swim, the freedom of exploring the island as a boy and it all sounded idyllic, not what she had expected when he’d admitted to his father’s five matrimonial forays.