Ruthless Revenge: Sinful Seduction: Demetriou Demands His Child / Olivero's Outrageous Proposal / Rafael's Contract Bride

‘There’s more.’ From another pocket Talos withdrew a matching necklace with three exquisite teardrop-shaped diamonds. ‘This was your mother’s. She wore it on our wedding day.’

Iolanthe took the necklace reverently, her fingers smoothing over the polished stones as she imagined her mother once touching them in a similar way. ‘Thank you, Papa,’ she whispered, tears choking her voice. He’d never given her anything like this before, never shown her so much affection.

‘I was just waiting for the right moment to give them to you.’ Talos cleared his throat, uncomfortable with her obvious emotion. ‘It is not every day a young woman attends her first ball. She must be outfitted properly.’

Iolanthe put the earrings in and then turned so her back was to her father. ‘Will you fasten the necklace?’

‘Of course.’ Her father did the clasp and then rested his hands lightly on his daughter’s shoulders. ‘Lukas will accompany you tonight, and keep you safe. Make sure you show him the proper attention.’

Iolanthe had met Lukas, her father’s Head of Tech, a few times, and the thought of spending the entire evening with such a stuffed shirt made her insides wither in disappointment. ‘I thought you would accompany me.’

‘I have business to attend to. Balls such as these are times to network, not just socialise.’ He stepped back, his expression stern once more. ‘Lukas is an appropriate companion for you. I am allowing you to attend your first ball because you are old enough, and it is time you had a husband. Lukas would be a suitable choice.’

Lukas? She couldn’t imagine anything worse. Yet Iolanthe recognised the hard line of her father’s mouth, the flat black of his eyes. She could not argue with him now. Wordlessly she nodded even as a spark of rebellion lit her soul. This was her first ball, perhaps even her only ball, and she had no intention of spending the entire evening, much less the rest of her life, with dull-as-ditchwater Lukas Callos.

* * *

Alekos Demetriou stepped into the ballroom, light from the many crystal chandeliers glancing off diamond-spangled women and black-jacketed men. The best of Athens’ society had gathered tonight for the city’s first social event of the season, and this time Alekos had been included. A year ago his name would not have been on the exclusive guest list; no one had even known it. But now, after years of setbacks he could hardly bear to think about, he was finally starting to make his way and establish both his business and his name. He had every right to be here, rubbing elbows with the rich and entitled, and he intended to enjoy the privilege to the full.

Plucking a glass of champagne from one of the circulating trays, Alekos narrowed his eyes as he looked around the room, searching, as he always was, for the jovial face of his enemy. Talos Petrakis, the man who had taken everything from him, and done it with a smile on his face, presenting to the world the false front of a benevolent businessman, a genial entrepreneur.

Just the thought of Petrakis made Alekos’s insides clench as bitterness surged through him, corroding the remaining fragments of his soul. In those first years after Petrakis’s betrayal he’d fought against the overwhelming emotion, the fury and despair and hurt he’d felt at the older man’s devious actions. Then he’d realised that he could channel that emotion, use it for his own good. For the last four years he’d forged those toxic feelings in a furnace of determination, turning them into a steely, unrelenting drive to succeed. And it had worked.

He was finally reaching a point where he could actually consider how to enact revenge on the man who had stolen everything from him. Coming face-to-face with Petrakis after four long years would be the first step. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see the man anywhere.

A flash of white, a crystalline sparkle, caught the corner of his eye and Alekos turned and glimpsed a young woman at the far end of the ballroom. Her slender body was encased in a white gown beaded with diamantés, her face hidden behind an ivory demi-mask like those many of the women wore this evening. Tonight was meant to be a costume ball, but few took it beyond a mask made elegant with jewels, feathers, and silk.

The woman moved, and Alekos admired the way the light gleamed off her blue-black hair, touched the round curve of her cheek and the slender hollow of her throat. She looked pure and lovely in comparison to the more jaded women who circulated the room, affecting poses of boredom. In contrast this woman glowed, like a luminescent, newly discovered pearl nestled amidst a thousand tarnished gems. Her eyes were wide as she gazed around the ballroom, drinking everything in as if she were viewing Aladdin’s cave of wonders. Alekos couldn’t remember ever looking or feeling that way, as if life was full of possibility, of wonder. Maybe he had as a small boy, before life had shown him how hard and grim it could be. How indifferent and cruel people could be.

Despite her obvious interest in her surroundings, the young woman was hugging the wall, too shy or perhaps simply content to be a mere spectator of events. Interest sharpened to a finely honed point inside Alekos and he started towards her. He didn’t know who she was, but he intended to find out.

‘Alekos.’ A meaty hand clapped him on the shoulder and Alekos turned, schooling his expression into an easy smile as he greeted Spiro Anastos, a corpulent CEO who had been one of the first to use his content management software system. ‘It is good to see you here.’

‘Spiro.’ Alekos shook the man’s hand. ‘It’s good to be here.’

‘You will have fun tonight, eh? My Sofia always says you work too hard.’

‘Perhaps I do.’ For the last four years he’d done nothing but work, regularly pulling twenty-hour days and going home only to eat and sleep for a few brief hours, all in order to establish his business and his name. And it had worked. He was twenty-six years old and CEO of his own company that was growing fast.

‘Tonight is for pleasure,’ Spiro stated. ‘Drink, eat, dance.’ His eyes sparkled as he threw his arms wide. ‘Make love!’

Alekos gave a smiling nod as Spiro let out a belly-deep chuckle. Clearly the older man had been indulging in the first of his commands, and Alekos didn’t begrudge him it.

‘I’ll bear your words in mind,’ he murmured and with a nod of farewell he shouldered past Spiro, intent on finding the woman who had captivated him from a distance.

* * *

Iolanthe stood on the edge of the ballroom, her mask held up to her face. She’d managed to slip from Lukas when he’d been waylaid by some businessmen, and she had no desire for him to find her again. She’d already endured several dances with Lukas; his hands had been damp, his steps mechanical, and his halting conversation had been about computer software. But at least the music had been lovely and Iolanthe had enjoyed the way her skirt had swirled about her as they’d moved across the floor, the music swelling and crashing over them in a symphonic tide.

Maybe she would dance again tonight. Maybe someone else, someone who could actually look her in the eye and make conversation, would ask her.

She pictured it now: a handsome man striding purposefully across the floor, intent firing his eyes, his mouth curving into a smile of sensual promise as he held out his hand...

A flush spread through her body at the thought, and Iolanthe laughed softly, amused and embarrassed by her own girlish fantasy. Most likely she would stand here in the corner for most of the ball, avoiding Lukas and staying in the shadows, awed by the older and more sophisticated women who tossed back their perfectly groomed heads and uttered tinkling laughs. Well, she could still enjoy that. Just looking at all the women in their gorgeous ball gowns was a delight, especially after a lifetime spent in virtual isolation.

‘Good evening.’

Iolanthe stiffened as a figure suddenly loomed in front of her, his voice low and authoritative and strangely sensual. It took her stunned brain a moment to realise he was actually addressing her, and then another few seconds to respond.

‘Good...good evening!’ She’d instinctively pressed her mask closer to her face, its wire frame nearly cutting into her skin, and now she blinked and peered through the feathered eyeholes to get a better look at the man who had approached her. He was as tall and dark as anything out of her naïve fantasies, she realised with a rush of both excitement and alarm. Well over six feet, the stark lines of his tuxedo jacket emphasising his broad shoulders and impressive chest. Eyes the colour of topaz surveyed her with thorough consideration, while perfectly defined lips that could have graced a Grecian statue curved in blatant male appreciation.

Iolanthe felt as if she’d tumbled down a rabbit hole, into some bizarre and amazing alternate reality. She’d been imagining such a scenario as this, but she’d never thought it would actually happen, and certainly not with a man who looked like this one. Iolanthe couldn’t decide if he looked more like the hero or villain of one of the romance novels her housekeeper Amara sometimes slipped her. Maybe both.

‘I noticed you from across the room,’ the man said, thrilling her all the more. ‘And I decided that I had to come and meet you.’

‘Really?’ Iolanthe cringed inwardly at the surprise audible in her voice, but the man merely smiled, a dimple appearing in his cheek, making him seem slightly less fearsome.

‘Really,’ he assured her. ‘You looked like you were enjoying yourself here in the corner, watching everyone.’

‘I’ve never been to a ball before,’ Iolanthe admitted, and then cringed again at how young and gauche she must sound. This man, with his darkly compelling good looks, was going to regret so much as crossing a room to meet her. The truth was she had no idea what to say to him, no experience of men or flirting or life at all. And she was awestruck. Who wouldn’t be, though, with a man as powerfully charismatic and attractive as this one? She was tempted to touch him to see if he was real.

‘Perhaps you would tell me your name?’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Flushing, Iolanthe stumbled on. ‘It’s Iolanthe. And you are...?’

‘Alekos. Alekos Demetriou.’ His smile curved deeper, his gaze flicking over her in what even she in her inexperience knew was masculine assessment. She wondered whether he liked what he saw and realised that she hoped he did. ‘Would you care to dance?’

‘Oh...’ Shock made her simply stare for a few delighted seconds. He’d actually asked her to dance, and tonight was for magic. She’d wished for magic in her bedroom, had dared to dream about it, and now it was actually real. The whole world seemed to sparkle, promise shimmering in a haze of possibility. Here was her adventure, her excitement. Her romance.

‘I...’ For a second Iolanthe considered her father, his stern instructions for her to behave properly and stay with Lukas. But what was the harm in a dance? That was why she’d come to the ball, was it not? She had the rest of her life to be the dutiful daughter, the obedient wife.

Tonight she wanted to live. The spark of rebellion that had lit her soul hours ago now burst into flame.

‘Well?’ Amusement laced Alekos’s voice and he arched one eyebrow, his hand still outstretched, long, tapered fingers reaching towards her.

‘Yes,’ she said firmly. ‘Yes, I would love to dance.’

* * *

Alekos’s insides jolted as Iolanthe’s palm slid across his, his whole body suffused with a sudden, surprising desire.

He’d started to regret engaging the young ingénue in conversation from almost the moment they’d met—she was clearly very young and even more innocent. And also beautiful—even with the demi-mask pressed to her face, Alekos could appreciate her delicate bone structure and flawless skin, the curves of her cheek and neck graceful and pure. From behind the diamanté-encrusted mask, eyes the colour of moonlight on water regarded him with heartbreaking honesty. Iolanthe, it seemed, had not yet learned to dissemble. And although she was young her body possessed womanly curves, and the sparkling white satin dress hugged each one lovingly.

Her silver-grey eyes widened as Alekos drew her towards him, and he knew she too felt that jolt of desire that had unsettled him. His work had not allowed him time for a social life, and so he’d had his sexual needs met in the most expedient way possible—with a series of one-night stands or brief affairs with experienced women, most of them as jaded as himself, none of whom were looking for more than simple physical need quickly sated. Iolanthe definitely did not fit into that category.

One dance, Alekos told himself. One short dance and then he would smile and walk away from a woman he had no business being interested in.

The band struck up a tune as Alekos guided Iolanthe to the dance floor. She came gracefully, her head held high, her eyes shining like silver stars. And when Alekos turned and brought her body in close and exquisite contact with his, she moulded herself naturally to him, her hips and breasts nudging him as they both swayed.