Isla’s voice thickened with emotion. Stelios was the only person, apart from her mother, who had ever cared about her, but soon he would be gone from this world, just as her mother had gone, and she would be alone again. The one tiny comfort was that Stelios and Marion would finally be together.
‘You expect me to believe that my father’s wealth has no bearing on your decision to accept his marriage proposal?’ Andreas gritted.
‘I don’t care what you believe. The truth is that I love your father.’
Andreas jerked as if she’d slapped him. His blue eyes burned into Isla like lasers, seeking out every last secret in her soul as his dark head came closer, blotting out the light from the room behind him so that there was just the darkness of the night and the harsh sound of his breaths echoing the erratic beat of her heart.
‘Love?’ he mocked. He captured her wrist between his strong fingers. ‘I could kiss you right now and you wouldn’t stop me, even though my father, who you profess to love, and the guests he invited to celebrate his engagement to you are only feet away from us.’
He dropped his gaze to the exposed upper slopes of her breasts that were rising and falling jerkily. Isla knew she should demand that he release her. But she couldn’t speak, could barely think. The spicy scent of his aftershave, mixed with something elusive and male, swamped her senses. His mouth, so close to hers but not close enough, was an unbearable torment. Heat swept through her and she felt an ache low in her pelvis. Her breasts felt heavy and she wanted... Oh, God, she wanted his mouth everywhere on her body.
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and Andreas swore. ‘This is crazy,’ he said hoarsely. He sounded as if he was waging an internal battle with himself and his voice jolted Isla to her senses.
She must be out of her mind to allow Andreas to undermine her defences. Even if she hadn’t agreed to the pretend engagement with Stelios, it would be foolish to succumb to her desire for Andreas, which made her feel hot and shivery at the same time.
No other man had ever excited her the way Andreas did, and she longed to press herself against his whipcord body and burn in his fire. But the kiss they had shared in London had clearly meant nothing to him, she reminded herself, still smarting from the memory of how he had walked away from her without a backward glance. She would not be Andreas’s plaything and she put her hand on his chest to push him away, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he dropped his arms to his sides and stepped away from her.
Light spilled across the terrace from the drawing room as the door swung open and Stelios’s slightly stooped figure was silhouetted in the doorframe. ‘Isla?’
‘I’m here,’ she called out. She was still looking at Andreas and flushed at the contemptuous expression in his eyes when he stared back at her. Thank goodness she had come to her senses and stopped him from kissing her.
‘What are you doing out here in the dark?’ Stelios asked.
‘I was pointing out the lights of some of the notable buildings on the mainland to Isla,’ Andreas told his father, falling into step beside her when she walked back across the terrace. ‘I explained that the villa stands on a hill, hence the excellent view.’
Stelios was silent as his eyes moved between Isla and his son. ‘Yes, I see,’ he said softly at last. Isla prayed he didn’t. It was ridiculous to feel guilty, she told herself. Stelios had promised that he would explain to his family the reason for their fake engagement after Nefeli’s birthday party. But the affection she felt for the elderly man was genuine and she smiled at him as she slipped her arm through his.
‘I’m sorry you were looking for me. I should have told you that I was stepping outside for some fresh air.’
‘Your advice is needed,’ Stelios told her. ‘My friend Georgios is planning to visit the British Museum in London and he is especially interested in seeing the collection of ancient Greek antiquities housed there. I explained that you will be able to advise him which galleries and exhibits he would enjoy.’
‘Do you spend a lot of time in a museum, Isla?’ Andreas’s tone was sceptical.
‘I work as an assistant curator in the Greek and Roman department at the British Museum. The position is part-time, allowing me to fit the hours around my job as your father’s housekeeper in London, as well as studying for my PhD in classical civilisations.’
That wiped the smirk off Andreas’s face, Isla thought with satisfaction as she allowed Stelios to escort her back into the salon to join the other guests. Andreas had accused her of being a gold-digger and she’d enjoyed his obvious surprise that she had a career. But she was annoyed with herself for caring about his opinion of her. Common sense told her that he was the last man on the planet she should be drawn to.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had followed them into the salon and taken a drink from the butler. Andreas must have sensed her eyes on him and he turned his head to look directly at her, lifting his glass in mocking salute before he drained the amber liquid in one gulp. Isla watched the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
He was unashamedly masculine and she remembered how his body had felt as hard as steel when he’d trapped her up against the balustrade on the terrace with a muscular thigh. His olive-toned skin gleamed like bronze in the brightly lit room, and when he raked his hand carelessly through his dark hair her fingers itched to do the same.
Isla had never been this fascinated by a member of the opposite sex before. She had dated a few guys at university but was wary of being hurt and she’d never felt a desire for any of those relationships to progress as far as the bedroom, which was why she couldn’t understand her response to Andreas. She did not like him and certainly didn’t trust him, so why did he make her senses sing and bring her body to urgent life?
She had the unenviable title of the world’s oldest virgin, Isla thought wryly. Although she doubted that Andreas would believe it. His cynical expression when he’d seen the sparkling diamond ring on her finger indicated that he was convinced she had used her feminine wiles to captivate his billionaire father.
ANDREAS’S FEET POUNDED on the sand where the waves rippled against the shore. The sun was climbing high in the sky and the temperature was already soaring. Usually he went for a run at the break of dawn when the day was fresh and full of possibilities. But he had woken late after a restless night. Sleep had eluded him for hours as he’d struggled to understand his behaviour the previous evening when he’d followed Isla out onto the terrace and been tempted to kiss her.
Theos, she had made him shake like a teenager at the mercy of his hormones. The chemistry between them had been almost tangible and if she hadn’t pushed him away he doubted he would have been able to resist her. But the realisation that he could have been caught in a compromising situation with his father’s fiancée had filled him with self-loathing. Even more incomprehensible was the fact that Isla had threatened his self-control with her mix of sensuality and innocence, which couldn’t be real, he told himself.
He was convinced that Isla was a gold-digger. Andreas had learned from bitter personal experience that some women had no scruples and would do anything to get their hands on the Karelis fortune. His mouth thinned as he remembered the lies that an ex-girlfriend, Sadie, had told the media about him after he’d seen through her attempt to deceive him. He should have realised sooner that Sadie had been more interested in his bank balance than him. He would bet his entire fortune that Isla was attracted to his elderly father’s wealth. Her air of vulnerability, which evoked a protective instinct in Andreas he hadn’t known he possessed, was no doubt part of her clever act, he thought grimly.
He ran faster, pushing himself until