At His Revenge. Trish Morey

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      ‘Worn out from too much sex,’ someone murmured. Stefan simply smiled and accepted a glass of champagne from one of his hovering staff.

      ‘She leads a very quiet, very private life and this is all very new to her.’ He’d discovered early in life that it was best to sail as close to the truth as possible and he stuck to that now as he carefully conjured suspense and interest among his guests.

      Carys Bergen, a model who had been flirting with him for several months, strolled up to him. ‘You’re a wicked man. Who is this reclusive woman that you’re about to produce like a rabbit from a magician’s hat?’

      He left his guests simmering in an atmosphere of expectation and strolled through the villa to the master bedroom suite, scooping another glass of champagne on the way.

      At first he thought she wasn’t in the room and he gave an impatient frown and glanced around him. ‘Selene?’

      ‘I’m here.’

      He turned his head.

      There was no sign of the awkward schoolgirl. The person standing in front of him in a sheath of shimmering scarlet was all woman.

      ‘That dress was designed for the express purpose of tempting some poor defenceless man to rip it off.’ His eyes weren’t on the dress, but on the delicious curve of her narrow waist and the swell of her breasts above the tight jewelled bodice.

      She smiled, clearly delighted by the effect she was having on him. ‘“Defenceless” is not a word anyone would use to describe you. And I know you spend your life escorting women who wear stunning dresses so what makes this one special?’

      ‘The person wearing it.’

      ‘Oh, smooth, Mr Ziakas.’

      Unused to women whose response to compliments was laughter, Stefan handed her a glass. ‘Champagne in a tall, slim glass, a red dress and a guy in a dinner jacket. This could be the first time in my life I’ve made a woman’s dreams come true.’

      ‘Mmm, thank you.’ She took a mouthful of champagne, her eyes closing as if she wanted to savour the moment. ‘It tastes like celebration.’ Immediately she took another sip, and then another larger gulp.

      Stefan raised his brows. ‘If you want to remember the evening, drink slowly.’

      ‘It tastes delicious. I love the feel of the bubbles on my tongue. And one of the best things about my new independence is being able to decide what I drink and what I don’t drink.’

      ‘That’s fine. But, delighted though I am that you’re clearly capable of enjoying the sensual potential of champagne, I’d rather my date wasn’t unconscious. From now on take tiny sips and count to a hundred in between.’ He held out his arm and she immediately put her empty glass down, took his arm and smiled up at him.

      ‘Thank you.’

      That wide, genuine smile knocked him off-balance. He was used to coy, flirtatious and manipulative. ‘Friendly’ was new to him and he had no idea how to respond.

      She appeared to have no sense of caution. No layers of protection between her and the world. How the hell was she going to manage when she was no longer protected by her father’s security machine?

      ‘What are you thanking me for?’

      ‘For agreeing to help me, for inviting me to this party and for arranging all these wonderful clothes. It’s the perfect way to start my new life. You’re my hero.’ She stood back slightly, her eyes on his shoulders. ‘You look smoking hot in a dinner jacket, by the way. Very macho. I bet all the dragons in Greece are trembling in their caves, or wherever it is dragons live when they’re not munching on innocent maidens.’

      ‘Heroes don’t exist in real life and you’ve definitely drunk that too fast.’ Stefan made a mental note to brief the staff to make her next drink non-alcoholic, otherwise she’d be lying face-down in a coma before the party had even begun.

      ‘You’re too modest.’ Her eyes drifted from his shoulders to his mouth. ‘People are so wrong about you.’

      ‘You are far too trusting. What if they’re right?’

      Apparently undaunted by that suggestion, she closed her other hand round his lapel and pulled him towards her. ‘Do you know what I think? I think you’ve created this bad-boy image to keep people—women especially—at a distance. I think you’re afraid of intimacy.’

      Stefan felt darkness press in on him.

      She’d found the one tiny chink in his armour and thrust her sword into it.

      How? How had she done that? Was it a lucky guess?

      It had to be a lucky guess. She didn’t know anything about his past. No one did.

      ‘I’m not afraid of intimacy and later I’m going to prove that to you, so don’t drink any more or you’ll fall asleep before we reach the interesting part of the evening.’ Ignoring her puzzled expression, he guided her towards the door.

      ‘I’ve upset you. Did I say something wrong?’

      ‘What makes you think you’ve upset me?’

      ‘Because your voice changed.’

      Stefan, who prided himself on being inscrutable, started to sweat. Did she pick up on everything? ‘You haven’t upset me but I have guests, and I’ve already kept them waiting long enough. Are you ready?’

      ‘Yes. Although I’m bracing myself to be hated.’

      ‘Why would you be hated?’

      ‘Because I’m with the hottest guy on the planet. All the women are going to hate me, but don’t worry about it. When you’re Stavros Antaxos’s daughter you get used to not having friends.’

      Her tone was light but he instantly thought of the night on the boat, when she’d found a hidden corner to sit, away from all the other guests. She’d worn her loneliness with a brave smile but she’d been almost pathetically grateful when he’d sat down and talked to her.

      ‘Friendship is idealised and overrated. If someone wants to be friends with you, it’s usually because they want something.’

      ‘I don’t believe that.’

      ‘You mean you don’t want to believe it. You are hopelessly idealistic.’ He held the door open for her and the brightness of her expression dimmed slightly.

      ‘So you’re saying that true friendship is impossible?’

      ‘I’m saying that the temptation of money is too strong for most people. It changes things.’ The scar inside him ached, reminding him of the truth of that. ‘Just something to bear in mind for the future if you don’t want to be hurt.’

      ‘Is that what you do? Do you live your life protecting yourself from being hurt?’

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