Blackmailed Into The Greek Tycoon's Bed. Carol Marinelli

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      ‘You want me to go to dinner with you?’

      ‘No,’ Xante corrected. ‘There was someone I wanted to take to dinner tonight, but due to the circumstances, unfortunately, it now has to be you.’

      ‘But why would you take me? I tried to steal…’

      ‘You would have to be extremely stupid to try again. Anyway, you have left me with no choice. There is no question of my going alone and, thanks to your performance downstairs, it is now assumed we are an item.’

      ‘And it’s just dinner?’ Karin checked.

      ‘In a moment you will no doubt go to tidy yourself…’ Xante mocked her with a black laugh. ‘And, when you do, please consider my vantage point when you posed that question. I can assure you, dinner will more than suffice!’

      ‘I’ll go home and get ready.’

      He halted her as she stood. ‘Forgive me if I appear mistrusting, but you will get ready here, I think.’

      ‘I didn’t exactly come dressed for a five-star ball!’

      ‘There is a beauty salon downstairs; I will have some clothes sent over from a boutique.’ He gave a thin smile at her raised eyebrows. Clearly, she thought, this man was used to grooming women. ‘I will take you to my suite.’ He must have seen her tense, because he answered her unspoken thoughts straight away. ‘I will shower and change in here. I will come for you at seven.’

      As easy as that, he sorted it. He took her along the corridor, and she entered a vast, luxury suite. One of the perks of living in a five star hotel, Karin realised, was that one was always ready for unexpected guests. Her heels sank into the thick carpet, her eyes taking in the gleaming furnishings. Karin was used to being surrounded by nice things, and shouldn’t really have been so overwhelmed, but it only highlighted what her home was lacking. These things were tended to and lovingly polished; the thick, heavy drapes no doubt didn’t shoot a layer of dust when drawn, like the ones at home.

      ‘I’ll ring the boutique; they will send someone over. If you don’t mind organising your appointment at the salon?’

      ‘Will I get a booking?’ Karin glanced at her watch. Four p.m. on a Friday afternoon wasn’t exactly the ideal time to book in for a complete overhaul.

      ‘You are ringing from my room,” Xante said. ‘Nothing will be too much trouble.’

      And then he left.

      Karin half-expected a puff of smoke to linger in his absence. If only she had three wishes!

      Well, not spending the night in jail might count as one, Karin conceded as she rang down to the salon and was told that someone would be with her within the hour.

      The boutique was just as rapid to cooperate, despatching a choice selection of clothes, along with an assistant. Karin declined the assistant’s help, and tried on the dresses in the privacy of the spacious bathroom, selecting a heavy, blush-coloured velvet that fitted like a glove. When Karin’s hair had been blasted into submission, her face, hands and feet all painted and pretty, she accepted that, given how frugally she’d tried to live these past couple of years, she’d just maybe unwittingly got her second wish.

      The beautician held up her gown. She was now coiffed and made up; time was moving on. ‘Let me help you into your dress.’

      ‘I can manage from here, thank you,’ Karin said primly.

      ‘But the zip…’

      ‘I’ll be fine.’ Karin’s crisp voice was non-negotiable. Finally alone, dressed in the hotel’s bath-robe, Karin stared at her reflection and hardly recognised herself. She’d always been more into books than make-up, and her dress style was usually conservative at best. With good reason.

      But she knew tonight she’d attract stares. She always had, in some respects. That wasn’t vanity talking; her face and name were recognisable even when she made no effort. But with her hair so spectacularly pinned, and her make-up skilfully applied, she was honest enough with herself to know that she looked good. Attractive, even. Sexy, perhaps…

      It wasn’t the stares that worried her, though, it was Xante.

      She’d never had such a violent attraction to a man; even David, who she had been with for months, had never affected her in that toe-curling way Xante had. In that instant, when he had first come over before her foolish actions, there had been this shock of attraction, which now as the hour approached she couldn’t erase from her mind.

      Karin swallowed down a rush of nerves that swarmed like butterflies in her throat as she peeled off her dressing gown.

      Trying not to look in the mirror, she pulled on the French-lace panties and lacy, strapless bra she had chosen. They were beautiful, the black lace against the sheer pink, the little beads in the centre. But Karin loathed them. Their beauty and fragility only accentuated the unsightly thick scarring that laced an ugly network on her lower chest, thick bubbles of skin where the hot metal of the car wreckage had seared her flesh. The surgeon had told her, when her wounds had settled, that something possibly could be done to disguise them—only nothing ever had been.

      Her parents had been loath to discuss the circumstances of the car accident and push for further treatment, and in turn Karin had been reluctant to show her body and live the nightmare again. It had been far easier just to cover the scars and pretend they didn’t exist.

      Except they did exist.

      And, no matter what the self-help books had said about the topic—that she should love herself and the rest would follow; that a loving man would accept her, faults and all—it actually didn’t work like that. Because she’d trusted David, had told him her past when he’d insisted on hearing it, had shown him her scars when he’d assured her it wouldn’t change anything. Only it had.

      Over and over, despite repeated, desperate attempts, he had rejected her in the most intimate way possible.

      Karin and her dashing army captain, society’s rising golden-couple, had, as the papers had said, ‘amicably’ parted. Yet there had been nothing amicable about the fresh batch of scars David had left her with—emotional scars, that were as deep and as raw as the ones on her body.

      A thick, mascara-laced tear slid down her cheek, and Karin quickly dabbed at it. No one must ever guess that for now her life was anything but perfect.

      For Emily’s sake.

      So she pulled on the dress and stood, seemingly resplendent, draped in full-length blush-velvet that hugged her curves, the heavy halter-neck jacking up her bosom. Her cleavage was only slightly revealed, but with bare arms too it felt as if acres of flesh were on show; all Karin felt was exposed.

      Hearing the knock on the door, Karin took a deep breath and held it as Xante entered the room. She stared into those black eyes and felt a flutter of something unfamiliar deep inside. Her own arousal unnerved her. She’d never found it easy to look a man in the eye, only with Xante she wanted to, and that was what scared her. His dark, brooding good looks did nothing to soothe her; she could almost smell the testosterone in the air that surrounded them. Karin knew that, despite the luxury suite and the designer suit, despite all the trappings, Xante was a bad boy made good. Instantly she was on the defensive. She picked up a СКАЧАТЬ