Mediterranean Millionaires. Lynne Graham

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      Taut with angry, frustrated tension, Andreas leant back against the limestone wall in the power shower and let the water stream down over his magnificent bronzed body. Usually he was still in bed with Hope at this stage of the evening. His chill-out time with her had been wrecked. Taken by surprise, he had been tactless. He wanted to punch something. Their relationship was as near perfect as he had ever hoped to achieve on a casual basis. Hope never made unreasonable demands and appeared to have no greater ambition in life than to make him happy. And she was bloody brilliant at making him happy, Andreas acknowledged grudgingly. He did not want to lose her. But what did he do with a mistress who did not know she was a mistress? A mistress who wanted to celebrate anniversaries as if she were a wife? Theos mou… He winced. What had come over her?

      Most probably, Andreas reasoned with a surge of fierce resentment, Hope’s shrewish friend, Vanessa, was responsible. Was it she who had destroyed Hope’s sunny contentment? Who else could it have been? Once or twice Hope had repeated Vanessa’s revealingly acidic remarks about men. Andreas had gained the distinct impression that Hope’s best friend would fry him alive in hot oil if she ever got the chance.

      That his association with Hope should be so misjudged and so undervalued outraged Andreas. He was proud of the way he treated Hope. He looked after her. She was a very happy woman. Why? He kept all the nasty realities of life at bay. He even made her dreams come true. Although she had no suspicion of the fact, eighteen months earlier it had been his influence that had won her a place on a design course at a leading art college. Thanks to him she had since graduated and begun fashioning handbags that he was secretly convinced no sane woman would ever wish to buy. He had a shuddering recollection of the one shaped like a ripe tomato. But the point was, Hope was cheerfully content…or, at least, she had been until the serpent had entered Eden.

      Andreas was towelling himself dry when Hope entered the bathroom. She drew in a slow, deep breath to steady herself and fixed turquoise blue eyes bravely on him. ‘So if we can’t have anniversaries, what can we have?’

      Six feet four inches tall, black hair still wet from the shower and crystalline drops of water still sparkling on the ebony curls defining his powerful pectoral muscles, Andreas froze. He had not expected a second assault in that line. The first had been startling enough. Winged ebony brows drew together. ‘I don’t believe I follow…’

      Hope realised that there was a lump in her throat, a lump that was swelling with every second that passed with the threat of tears. ‘I…I suppose I’m asking is this it for you and me?’

      ‘Clarify that,’ Andreas instructed in the cool tone he used in the office to make underlings jump. But his dark golden eyes shimmered with intensity. He could not credit the idea but for a split second he wondered if she was threatening to dump him.

      ‘Once you told me that nothing stays the same and that everything must progress,’ Hope reminded him unsteadily. ‘You said that the things that remain static wither and die. Yet from what I can see, in the last two years we haven’t changed at all.’

      Right there and then, Andreas decided that in the future it would be wiser to keep all words of wisdom on the score of goal-orientated achievement targets and healthy change to himself.

      Every word Hope spoke came from her heart and nothing was pre-planned or judged for its effect. She was very upset. Horribly conscious of his cool distance, she was desperate to make sense of what was happening between them. She needed the reassurance of finding out exactly where she stood with the man she loved.

      ‘So what about us?’ Hope continued half under her breath, doggedly pushing the question out, refusing to surrender to her inner fears. ‘Are we going anywhere?’

      Incredulous that Hope should be subjecting him to such an onslaught, Andreas snatched in a charged breath and reached for her with determined hands. Gathering her small, curvaceous body to him, he reclaimed her mouth in a fierce, sweet invasion that left her quivering with disconcertion. ‘Back to bed?’ he murmured with hungry intent as he finally lifted his arrogant dark head.

      Her pale face flamed as though he had slapped her. Indeed she felt as though he might as well have done, for she was bitterly ashamed that he had found it so easy to distract her. ‘Is that my answer? I want to feel like I’m part of your life, not just someone you sleep with,’ she confided painfully.

      Golden eyes ablaze with displeasure, Andreas spread lean brown hands wide in emphasis. ‘You are part of my life!’

      ‘If that’s true, why do I never get to meet your friends?’ Her voice was rising with stress in spite of her efforts to keep it level. ‘Are you ashamed of me?’ she gasped strickenly.

      ‘When we’re together, I prefer to keep you to myself, pedhi mou. I won’t apologise for that,’ Andreas fielded smoothly. ‘Calm yourself. You’re getting hysterical!’

      ‘I’m not…I’m just fighting with you!’

      Andreas dealt her a stony appraisal. ‘I won’t fight with you.’

      ‘Is that something else you’re not into?’ Hope heard herself hurl in shock at her own daring. Backing away from him, she jarred her hip painfully on a corner of the vanity unit behind her.

      ‘Are you hurt?’ Lean, strong face taut, Andreas strode forward.

      In the room next door the phone started ringing. The untimely interruption made Andreas swear in exasperated Greek, but Hope was grateful for the excuse to escape and answer the call.

      ‘Get me Andreas…’ Elyssa Southwick’s imperious voice demanded.

      ‘Hold on, please,’ Hope said gruffly.

      If Elyssa couldn’t raise Andreas on his mobile phone when he was in London, she called the apartment instead. The Nicolaidis siblings were close, for their parents had died when Elyssa was barely a teenager. Still only in her mid twenties, Elyssa leant heavily on her big brother for support. The young Greek woman, however, seemed to have no inkling of Hope’s identity, for she always spoke to Hope as though she were a servant on telephone duty.

      Andreas accepted the phone Hope extended. But his attention was on Hope, who looked like glass about to shatter, her warm blue eyes cast down and her generous mouth taut with strain. He was furious with her. Why was she doing this to them? The phone dialogue continued in Greek. Hope understood the gist of it for she had been learning the language at night class for many months and had planned to surprise Andreas with her proficiency. Elyssa was reminding her brother that she was throwing a housewarming party the next week. Hope left the room.

      Of course, she would not be invited to the party. Andreas was in no hurry to take her out and show her off. Was that because he was only using her for sex? Easy, uncomplicated sex with a woman who had been weak and foolish enough to give herself freely on that basis from the very outset of their acquaintance? How could she complain on that score when Andreas had never promised anything else and she had never had the courage to ask for anything more?

      Pure anguish threatened to take hold of Hope. She wanted to weep and wail like a soul in torment and the power of her own distraught emotions scared her. Her mouth wobbled and she pinned it flat. Terrified as she was of breaking down while Andreas was still in the apartment, she fought to keep a lid on all distressing thoughts.

      But her mind marched on with relentless cruelty. Andreas thought nothing of making love over and over again. He was all Greek, an unashamedly passionate guy with an insatiably high libido. But he was more into work than leisure СКАЧАТЬ