Mediterranean Tycoons: Masterful & Married: Marriage At His Convenience / Aristides' Convenient Wife / The Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride. JACQUELINE BAIRD

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СКАЧАТЬ like knocking the grin off his face, but instead gathered all the will-power she possessed and took a couple of steadying breaths. ‘You were about to tell me why I should not marry Clive but marry you instead. Personally I thought it was my own choice. How silly of me,’ she managed to say facetiously.

      Lucas’s smile vanished. ‘You have no choice.’ His dark eyes narrowed to angry slits. ‘Not if you value your father’s good name.’ Amber felt a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as Lucas continued. ‘Since Sir David retired, his bank has not, how shall I put it…?’ He hesitated; his black eyes, glittering with triumph, clashed with hers. ‘His son Mark is not a patch on him. Last year, although it saddened me to do it given the long association between Karadines and Janson’s, I had to cut all ties with the bank. It was only out of deference for Sir David that charges were not brought against them.’

      ‘I don’t believe you,’ Amber said sharply. ‘My father is an honest man.’

      ‘Yes, I agree. Unfortunately the same cannot be said for his son,’ Lucas opined cynically.

      Amber went white, and in a voice that shook she asked, ‘You’re telling me that Mark has done something illegal?’ The horrible part was, Amber realized that she was not completely surprised by Lucas’s statement.

      Lucas shot her a caustic smile. ‘What else would you call using money from a client’s account to fund a yacht in the Med and keeping a very expensive mistress?’

      Amber turned her head aside, unable to meet his eyes. Mark had bought a yacht, that much was true, and the mistress didn’t surprise her much either. His poor wife Mary was the mother of three delightful daughters, and spent her whole time apologising for not producing the son her husband wanted.

      Lucas walked over to her, his long fingers clasping her chin. ‘If you don’t believe me, ask him, Amber,’ he challenged.

      She had a terrible feeling Lucas might be right, and she hid her confusion with an angry accusation. ‘You would use the feeling I have for my father to blackmail me into marrying you?’ she derided. ‘In your dreams, buster.’

      His jaw tensed and something violent flashed in his eyes before he drew a deep breath. ‘Not in a dream, but in reality, yes. If that’s what it takes to get what I want. Yes,’ he reiterated bluntly.

      She searched his lean, strong face, sure he must be kidding. Surely no man in the twenty-first century could force a woman into marriage? He didn’t mean it. But she could not help noticing the implacable determination in his gaze. How had she forgotten what a ruthless bastard he could be? She’d fooled herself into thinking she could have him for a night and walk away. Amber felt her stomach curl sickeningly with fear as her eyes skimmed over his magnificent physique, the vibrant raw energy of the man that fascinated her even as it repelled her. She had underestimated Lucas. But she’d also overestimated her own ability to control her chaotic emotions. Her eyes widened in horror. ‘You’re crazy,’ she bit out as realisation dawned. He was serious, and, worse, much worse, she was tempted…

      One ebony brow lifted while a ruthless smile curved his sensuous mouth. ‘Perhaps, but how would you live with yourself knowing you could have saved the reputation of your father’s firm? A father who went to great lengths to find you and acknowledge you.’

      She was trembling. ‘You’re a bastard, Lucas,’ she said, her strained features reflecting her inner turmoil. ‘But I’m not afraid of you. I will ask Mark, and—’

      He cut across her. ‘You do that. I made my decision a while ago, I’ll give you until the day after tomorrow to make yours.’

      Amber heard the car drive up, the engine stop and the car door slam. Her full lips tightened in an angry grimace as she glanced out of the window of her living room. Lucas was pushing open the wrought-iron gate that led up the garden path to the front door of her cottage.

      Since the night when she’d fallen like a ripe plum into his arms, in his hotel suite, her life had become chaotic. The following evening she’d met Mark, her half-brother, for a drink, and as soon as she’d mentioned Lucas Karadines he had gone white, and within minutes she’d had the whole story: it was true. It would have been risible if the consequences had not been so tragic for Amber.

      Wednesday morning Lucas had called at her office. Loyalty to her father’s family and her guilty feelings over Spiro’s legacy had forced her to accept Lucas’s proposal. Because she knew she did not deserve to gain by Spiro’s death. He had been a good friend for many years, as a student and after. Yet she had not contacted him in over four years because he had invited his uncle to the opening of his art gallery without telling her, and told Lucas that she’d put up the capital for Spiro’s venture. Worse, she could not shake the notion that if she had not given Spiro the money to go to New York when he had, he might not have contracted the disease that had killed him. But the fact that Lucas the devil had won did nothing to soothe her anger.

      That weekend, at Lucas’s insistence, she had taken him to her father’s house in Surrey, and dropped the bombshell of her forthcoming marriage the following Saturday. Lucas had charmed Sir David and his wife Mildred so much so that Mildred had insisted on throwing an engagement party. Amber had been glad to get back to work on the Monday and away from Lucas, who had business in New York for a few days. But then she’d had the unenviable task of lunching with Clive and telling him she was marrying Lucas Karadines. She had felt an absolute worm by the time they had parted, because she hadn’t been able to tell Clive the real reason for her hasty marriage, and he’d taken her rejection with a brave smile and an honest desire that they remain friends.

      Then mid-week she’d discovered Lucas had spoken to the chairman of Brentford’s. The firm had given her three months’ holiday. When she had discovered from one of the other partners why, she had been furious and deeply hurt in equal proportions.

      She heard the doorbell ring. They were flying out to Greece today and tomorrow was their wedding day. ‘Unfortunately,’ Amber muttered darkly, smoothing the fine buttercup silk summer dress she had chosen to wear over her slender hips, and, taking a deep, calming breath, she walked out of the living room, along the hall and opened the front door.

      Lucas stood on the path, tall and dark, and the expression on his strong face was one of amusement. ‘I don’t believe it—you live in a country cottage with roses around the door. It is not you at all, Amber,’ he drawled mockingly.

      Put out by his opening comment, Amber snapped, ‘How the hell would you know?’ Her heart had leapt at the sight of him—she had not seen him since last Sunday.

      A green polo shirt fit snugly over his wide shoulders, and outlined the musculature of his broad chest in loving detail. Khaki cotton trousers clung to his hips and long legs. A pair of sunglasses was shoved carelessly back across the thick black hair of his head, revealing his perfect features in stark beauty. It wasn’t fair; no man should look so good. Even the summer sun glinting on the silver wings of his hair only enhanced his vibrant masculine charm.

      Lucas straightened. ‘As I recall I know you very well.’ His dark eyes roamed over her face and down over her shapely figure in a blatant sensual caress.

      ‘Only in the biblical sense,’ Amber returned, and, turning back into the hall, she grabbed the case she had packed and walked to the door. ‘I’m ready. Let’s go.’ She did not want to invite him into her home, because she knew her marriage to Lucas would only last as long as it took Spiro’s will to pass probate. She loved her cottage; she had bought it from her landlord three years ago, and had had great fun renovating it. She wanted no memories of Lucas to haunt it when she returned.

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