Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction. Кейт Хьюит

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      ‘Kyrie Metaxas and Kyria Callos will see you now.’

      Alekos’s mouth twisted in wry bitterness as he strode into the CEO’s office at Petra Innovation. He might have been kept waiting like a supplicant, but he was one no longer, neither lackey nor slave. Petra Innovation, to all intents and purposes, belonged to him. And he found he was looking forward to informing Iolanthe Callos of that fact.

      The receptionist opened the doors and he stalked through them, stopping abruptly at the sight of Iolanthe standing by the window, the sunlight gilding her dark hair. Looking upon her after so many years felt like a punch to the solar plexus, and he found, to his surprise and irritation, that he was suddenly breathless. Memories assaulted him, a kaleidoscope of images and sensations that he’d long ago determined to forget. A white silk mask, the petal-pink curve of a smooth cheek. The touch of her lips, the breathy sigh of her pleasure.

      Resolutely he moved his gaze from the woman by the window to the other occupant of the room: her solicitor, Antonis Metaxas. Alekos gave one brief nod.

      ‘Kyrie Metaxas.’

      ‘Kyrie Demetriou.’

      The silence stretched between the three of them, taut and brittle. Alekos glanced at Iolanthe again, determined not to react to her as he had before. At that first burning glance he’d thought she looked the same, but now he saw that she was older, just as he was. He glimpsed faint lines by her eyes, and, although she looked pale, he saw a composure to her that had not been there before. She was thirty years old and recently a widow. He noticed she wore a pale grey suit, a suitable colour for mourning. The jacket was belted around her slender waist and the pencil skirt emphasised her lithe figure. Her hair was caught up in a neat chignon and it made him remember how those inky locks had felt tumbling through his hands as he’d drawn her towards him for a deep kiss...

      ‘Kyria Callos. May I offer my condolences on the recent loss of your husband?’ He would observe the niceties.

      Iolanthe inclined her head in regal acceptance of his words. She didn’t speak. Her face looked as if it had been made of marble, as blank as a statue, no expression visible in those mist-silver eyes.

      ‘I have informed Kyria Callos of your controlling interest in the company,’ Metaxas said. ‘She would like to know what your intentions are regarding Petra Innovation.’

      Alekos’s gaze snapped to Metaxas. ‘And can Kyria Callos speak for herself?’ he asked with deliberate mildness. He moved his gaze back to Iolanthe, surprised and strangely gratified to see a flash of ire in her eye; the statue was gone.

      ‘Yes, Kyria Callos can,’ she informed him shortly. The sound of her voice was another surprise; gone was the girlish lilt, replaced by the crisp tones of a grown-up woman in control of her life, if not her business.

      ‘Very well.’ Alekos gave her a nod, just as she had given him. ‘What is it you wish to know?’

      ‘I wish to know why you have bought controlling shares in my father and husband’s company,’ she said, and he heard the dislike in her voice, mixed with contempt. The realisation that she scorned him made his resolve for revenge harden inside him, a core of steel that had been the basis of every choice and desire for his entire adult life. ‘And were so secretive about it,’ she added, tossing the words like an insult.

      ‘If you had cared to dig a little deeper, you would have found that I was not as secretive about my purchases as you seem to think. It was simply that your husband did not care to look closely into the matter.’

      A small gasp escaped her before she pressed her lips together. ‘How dare you?’

      ‘How dare I?’ Alekos arched an eyebrow, coldly incredulous. Her fake posturing of outrage and hauteur he could handle; this he could dismiss. ‘I did not realise I was daring anything at all. I was merely stating a fact. Your husband was desperate, Kyria Callos.’

      ‘At least he was honourable,’ Iolanthe shot back before she drew in a quick breath and composed herself. ‘Something you’ve never been.’

      ‘Kyria Callos—’ Metaxas began, clearly shocked by this unprecedented exchange.

      ‘Iolanthe and I have some history,’ Alekos informed the solicitor with curt politeness. ‘As you have most likely surmised.’ He glanced back at Iolanthe; her eyes looked like lambent silver, shining with suppressed fury—and remembrance. Was she recalling, as he was, how explosive they’d been together? Ten years on and he still remembered how she’d felt and tasted. How irresistible she’d been to him, so much so that he’d thrown caution and common sense to the wind in order to possess her.

      Thank goodness he’d learned a little self-control in the last decade. Of course, he’d made sure never to cross paths with Iolanthe again.

      Now Metaxas shot Iolanthe a troubled glance, but she said nothing. ‘Kyria Callos is naturally concerned about the nature of your business dealings—’

      ‘My actions towards Petra Innovation have been completely legal,’ Alekos cut him off smoothly. ‘Which is more than I can say for Talos Petrakis or Lukas Callos.’

      Metaxas stiffened with affront. ‘Are you implying something—?’

      ‘Implying, no. Merely stating fact. Again.’ Alekos moved his gaze to Iolanthe once more. She was pale with shock, but her eyes snapped with fury, her mouth compressed. She still had her spirit, then. Why did that thought please him? Nothing about Iolanthe Callos pleased or even interested him. He had not thought of her in ten years. At least, he had made himself not think of her.

      ‘So after initiating a hostile takeover of my father’s company, you cast aspersions on him and my husband’s character?’ Iolanthe shook her head, her features pinching with dislike. ‘I suppose I should have expected nothing less from you. Next you will be insulting me as well.’

      ‘As far as I can tell, you are the only one casting insults.’

      ‘I really think this has gone far enough,’ Metaxas intervened. ‘Perhaps we can keep to discussing what Kyrie Demetriou intends for Petra Innovation—’

      ‘Of course.’ Colour flared in Iolanthe’s pale cheeks, making her look even lovelier. She was like a tall, dark flame, standing so straight and proud, refusing to be cowed. Alekos felt an unsettling mix of pity and admiration. Even so, her courage wouldn’t keep him from dealing the lethal blow he’d intended for so long. He only wished Talos Petrakis were alive to see and feel it.

      ‘I am more than happy to inform you both of my intentions for Petra Innovation,’ Alekos stated. He’d been responding emotionally to Iolanthe; it was time to stick to facts. To savour them, and the sweet revenge he’d now enjoy to the full, cold as it was. ‘My intention for Petra Innovation is to close the company and liquidate all of its assets.’ He glanced at Iolanthe, registering the lovely mouth that had dropped open in shock, the hands hanging slack and useless by her sides. ‘Forty per cent should keep you in relative comfort, although I’m afraid the company is not performing nearly as well as it once was.’ Not like when it had been flogging the software system he had designed. Tech wizard Callos might have been, but he had not ever been able to match Alekos’s inventions. Just copy them.

      ‘You can’t,’ Iolanthe whispered.

      ‘I can,’ Alekos informed her flatly. ‘Indeed I have already begun the process.’

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