Possession: The Greek Tycoon's Blackmailed Mistress / His Virgin Acquisition

His dark eyes blazed burning gold with anger at that blunt exclamation. ‘Here.’ Without further ado, Aristandros scooped a document off the table beside him and extended it to her. ‘Read it and sign it.’

Her slim legs feeling a tad wobbly in the support stakes, Ella sank down into the nearest armchair. It was a long and involved contract. As her angry resentment cooled, she digested the terms of the agreement. Soon horror at the extent of his ruthlessness was assailing her as heavily as a lump of concrete settling into her stomach. He had reduced their upcoming relationship to the coldest possible set of hard-hitting demands and embargos.

In return for the privilege of looking after Callie and having all her expenses met by him, Ella was to share his bed whenever he wanted while making every possible effort to meet his expectations of her in everything that she did. She was to live, dress and travel as and where he wished. In addition, she was to accept that what was referred to as his ‘private life’ was none of her business and that interference in that field would be considered a breach of their agreement. Her teeth ground together and she had to snatch in a breath to restrain another angry outburst

The conditions of what could only be called her proposed ‘service’ were unbelievably detailed and humiliating. How could any man have dared to discuss such confidential matters with his lawyers? Where had he got the nerve to dictate such unashamedly cruel and disparaging terms?

‘This…. this is outrageous!’ Ella told him grittily. ‘Why don’t you just put a collar and a lead on me and refer to me as a pet?’

‘I want the job description to be accurate before you take on the role,’ Aristandros traded levelly. ‘I am honest about what I want and expect from you. You won’t be able to say that you weren’t warned.’

As Ella read on, she grew ever more tense and rattled. He was even laying down advance restrictions on her contact with Callie—she would not have the right to take Callie out without his permission and accompanying security. At all times she was to respect Aristandros’s position as her niece’s sole legal guardian and take note of his instructions. Any attempt to remove Callie from his custody or to claim any rights over the little girl would result in her access to Callie being denied. Ella shivered at that brutal threat and glanced up at Aristandros, evaluating the intractable expression stamped in his lean dark features. No, he wasn’t joking about any of it. He didn’t want a mistress, and certainly not a partner of equal status; he wanted a slave on a round-the-clock mission to please him.

‘Until this moment,’ she muttered shakily. ‘I didn’t realise how much you hated me.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Aristandros sent her a quelling glance.

‘If I couldn’t even argue with you, I couldn’t breathe!’ Ella hurled back in response.

‘I expect occasional disagreements,’ Aristandros countered with the air of a man making a generous allowance. ‘But I will not accept continual hostility which might detract from my comfort.’

Ella was mute with dismay and disbelief at the iron rule he was trying to impose on her. The written agreement was a humiliating nightmare. She felt like her wings were being clipped and she would never fly free again. Aristandros was determined to own her body and soul, and control her every waking moment.

‘We have wasted enough time discussing this. Sign,’ Aristandros ordered flatly.

‘Aren’t I entitled to legal advice of my own before I sign anything? I haven’t even finished reading it yet!’

‘Of course you’re entitled to seek legal advice, but that will hold matters up for at least another couple of weeks and extend the time you will have to wait to meet Callie,’ Aristandros pointed out.

‘I’m beginning to understand why you’re so rich,’ Ellie mumbled sickly. ‘You know what buttons to push, how to put on the pressure.’

‘Of course …’ Aristandros spread shapely brown hands in a fluid movement ‘… I want you and I’m programmed to fight for you.’

‘You fight very dirty,’ Ella whispered, bending her head to read on, still shocked by the extent of the control he was determined to exert over her. She skimmed through the financial details of the ridiculously extravagant monthly allowance he was offering her, and the even more generous ‘severance package’ promised as consolation at the end of their relationship. How could she fight him? All that mattered to her at that moment was the promise of seeing Callie, being able to care for her and ensure that the child received the love and security she needed to blossom. She was not prepared to risk losing that opportunity.

‘Will you sign?’

‘If I sign right now, when will I see Callie?’ Ella pressed.

‘Tomorrow.’

Ella breathed in slow and deep and got up to put the document down on the table. ‘I’ll sign,’ she said.

He summoned two lawyers and their signatures were duly witnessed. She couldn’t look either man in the eye, for Aristandros had made her feel like a whore who was selling not only her body to him but also her self-will. She found it hard to credit that the same male had once treated her with pronounced respect and courtesy. She was convinced that rejection had made him hate her.

‘What now?’ she breathed when they were alone again.

‘This …’ His hands enclosed her firmly to pull her to him. Long fingers curved to her cheekbone, tipping up her mouth, and suddenly he was kissing her and instant explosions of reaction were fizzing through her bloodstream. His masculine urgency was incredibly exciting. A savage rush of sexual hunger engulfed her. With a helpless shiver she pressed herself to the hard muscular wall of his chest, impelled by the straining sensitivity of her breasts and the liquid heat between her thighs to seek closer contact. She wanted, needed, craved more than that connection. He closed a hand to her hips, tilting her against him, and a low sound of response broke low in her throat as she felt the force of his erection even through their clothing, and her own body leapt with instant answering need.

Aristandros lifted his handsome dark head and dealt her a smile that was pure-bred predator. ‘Frozen on the outside, meltingly hot within, koukla mou. How many other guys have there been?’

Ella hated him with so much passion at that instant for daring to voice that insolent question that she could barely vocalize, and her voice emerged with a husky edge. ‘A few,’ she lied without hesitation, determined to hide the fact that, to date, only he could extract that mad inferno of response from her. ‘I’m a passionate woman.’

A tiny muscle pulled tight at the corner of his expressive mouth. His eyes were as ice-cold as a mountain stream. ‘Evidently. But from here on in, all that passion is mine. Is that understood?’

Not averse to taking on the guise of a femme fatale, Ella looked up at him from beneath the long, silky lashes that gave her blue eyes such definition against her fair skin and pale hair. ‘Of course.’

There was a moment’s silence while Ella gathered her wits and her courage. ‘Will you tell me what Callie’s like?’ she asked tautly.

Aristandros stilled in apparent surprise at the request. ‘She’s a baby. What can you say about a baby? She’s pretty—’ He hesitated, as if recognising that more than that superficial comment was required. ‘She’s, er, quiet, good; you would hardly know she was there.’

Ella lowered her lashes to conceal her dismay and concern at that description. A toddler of eighteen months should be lively, inquisitive and chattering, almost anything other than quiet and unobtrusive. Evidently her niece was still suffering the effects of losing her parents. ‘Do you have a close relationship with her?’ she queried, reluctant to say anything that he might translate as criticism of his guardianship of the little girl.

‘Of course I do.’ Aristandros frowned. ‘Now, if that is all, the limo’s waiting for you. You have appointments to keep.’

‘Where?’

‘I’m taking you to a gallery opening tonight. You’ll need clothes.’

‘I have clothes.’

‘Not to suit my social life you don’t,’ he parried, drily enough to rouse colour to her cheeks. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Clutching her copy of the legal agreement, Ella got back into the car. She was deeply shaken by the encounter, which had imposed a challenging dose of hard reality on her. The chauffeur delivered her to a designer salon. Her arrival had clearly been pre-arranged. She was ushered from the door straight into a changing room, where detailed measurements of her figure were noted down. Within minutes a selection of garments was being brought for her to try on.

‘And for the event this evening,’ the senior sales-assistant murmured, fanning an elegant black cocktail-frock out in front of Ella like a bait to hook a fish, ‘Mr Xenakis particularly liked this one.’

Ella breathed in deep to hold in an instant desire to state that the dress wasn’t her style at all. In fact, she was stunned by the awareness that Aristandros had taken so personal an interest in what she was to wear. He had actually torn himself from the world of business to consider her appearance? Was that the true definition of a womanizer—a guy so tuned in to the female body that even choosing clothing could become a prelude to sex? She focused her anxious thoughts on Callie and achieved a state of grace equal to the task of donning the dress without comment. She was equally tolerant of every other piece of apparel presented to her, even the absurd collection of silky, frivolous lingerie. The new wardrobe was only a prop to enable her to play a part, she told herself soothingly. Unfortunately, the prospect of slipping into flimsy provocative underwear for Aristandros’s benefit put Ella into a mood close to panic. Suddenly she was wishing she hadn’t claimed a level of experience she didn’t have.

The chauffeur took her to a beauty salon next. Ella had no objection to a little fine grooming. Indeed, it was a treat to have someone else do her hair and her nails, and the process of being made up by a professional beautician intrigued her. Colours and techniques were employed that she would never have dreamt of trying. Not for nothing had Aristandros called her ‘koukla mou’—my doll—she reasoned wryly. She was no longer required to be herself. Instead she was to be what Aristandros wanted her to be: a painted, pampered ultrafeminine remake of her former self programmed to behave like the mistress equivalent of a Stepford wife.

In an underground car-park, she got out of the limousine and was ushered into a lift. Aristandros lived in a tri-level penthouse apartment that overlooked Hyde Park. Luxurious acres of space seemed to run off in every direction from the imposing entrance-hall. She and her shopping were taken straight to the master bedroom. A swimming pool gleamed beyond the patio doors, alongside a sun terrace and the lush greenery of a rooftop garden. A maid, who addressed her in Greek, proudly demonstrated the lavish appointments of the dressing room where her clothes were to be stored, before showing her the opulent marble bathroom.

Ella discovered that she couldn’t take her attention off the massive bed that occupied centre-stage in the bedroom. The divan was so big Aristandros would have to chase her round it to capture her, she thought crazily, her heart starting to beat very, very fast. Sex with Aristandros—something she had dreamt about seven years earlier and now cringed at the threat of, she acknowledged ruefully. Still, if practice made perfect, he ought to be better in bed than most.

The maid hung the black dress in readiness, while Ella selected a turquoise voile-and-lace bra and matching panties and then went for a shower. When she had put on these items, she posed in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how the clinging fabric of the underwear clung to the fullness of her breasts and the swell of her hips, not to mention even more personal parts. Just then, the door opened without warning. A gasp was snatched from her parted lips, and she snatched up a towel to conceal her only partially clothed body. Her startled blue gaze was very wide.

Aristandros was in the doorway, seeming taller and more powerfully built than ever. Having already discarded his jacket, his tie and his shoes, he was an aggressively masculine sight with his shirt hanging loose to frame a muscular brown slice of hair-roughened chest. ‘You should have locked the door if you didn’t want company,’ he teased, eyeing the big white towel she was clutching to her chest with feverish hands. ‘For a woman who has been with, and I quote a few men, you’re very shy.’

Pride stiffened Ella’s backbone and she flung her head high, blade-straight white-blonde hair feathering in a silken swathe across her flushed cheekbones. ‘I don’t have a shy bone in my body!’

‘Drop the towel and prove it,’ he advised lazily.

In a convulsive movement, her slim fingers released their grip and the towel tumbled to the marble floor. She knew it was silly, but she felt ten times more naked and self-conscious in the fancy lingerie than she would have felt in her own unadorned skin.

Aristandros looked, and made no attempt to hide the fact that he was looking and enjoying the view of her scantily clad curves. Her body tingled in all the private places as though a flame had passed too close to her skin. ‘It pays to undress you, glikia mou.’

Ella dragged in a charged breath, the creamy swell of her breasts stirring, her swollen nipples visible below the lace. His brilliant eyes smouldered gold, and her mouth ran dry as he took a step forward and reached for her, sinking his hands below her hips to lift her up and settle her down on the marble vanity-unit as if she weighed no more than a child’s toy.