The Greek's Pleasurable Revenge. Andie Brock

the way her hand shook as she reached for it, immediately raising it to her lips to take a sip. The whisky seemed to restore her, and the flush of colour in her cheeks lessened from feverish red to a gentle pink.

      â€˜Yes, Calista?’ He returned her question with the mocking sarcasm built up over five bitter years. He saw her flinch.

      â€˜Whatever has happened to you?’

      â€˜Let me see...’ He pretended to consider. ‘Lies, betrayal, deceit, the death of my father, and...oh, yes, four and a half years rotting in an Athens jail.’

      He watched as she shook her head. ‘I have no idea who you are any more, Lukas. Do you know that?’

      â€˜No? Well, maybe that makes two of us.’ He took a deep slug of whisky. ‘And yet still you let me push you up against a wall and have my way with you. Why is that, do you suppose?’

      â€˜I... I don’t know.’

      â€˜Still you come apart at the very first touch of my hands, urging me on as if you can’t get enough of me, screaming my name as you take what you so badly need from me.’

      This felt better—dishing out the punishment he knew she deserved.

      â€˜And you are still dressed in black, your dear, departed father scarcely cold in his grave. It’s hardly becoming, is it, Calista? It’s hardly fitting behaviour for a grieving daughter.’

      â€˜No, it’s not. It should never have happened. And, believe me, I regret it now.’

      â€˜Oh, I’m sure you do. But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again.’ He closed the space between them with one menacing step. ‘Because you and I both know, Calista, that I can have you any time I want, any place I want.’

      He watched the way his words inflicted pain, sawed away at her just the way he’d intended them to. But with the pain came adrenalin, swiftly followed by that glorious flash of temper.

      â€˜So that’s what all this is about, is it?’ She threw back her shoulders, her hair rippling down her back. ‘You have lured me here to prove that you can have sex with me in some sort of pathetic attempt to get your own back?’

      â€˜Something like that.’

      She opened her mouth, but for a second words failed her. ‘You are a despicable, vile creature—do you know that? A lousy piece of—’

      â€˜Yeah, yeah.’ He shut her down with a bored flick of his wrist. ‘I’m sure I’m all that and more. You can call me all the names you want, if it makes you feel better, but it won’t change the facts. And do you know what the worst of it is?’

      He let his eyes drift lazily over her outraged face.

      â€˜You didn’t even put up a fight. I had been looking forward to the challenge, the thrill of the chase, to working out how I was going to win you over. But in the end it was so easy it was almost pathetic.’

      It was as if he’d punched her. The shock of his words made her fold at the stomach, reach for the back of a chair beside her to stop herself from falling. Raking in a breath, she pulled herself upright. Then, shooting him one last look of utter revulsion, she turned to go.

      With lightning speed Lukas reached the doorway before her, easily barring her way. ‘Not so fast.’

      â€˜I would like you to move, please.’ Her voice was brittle with anger and hurt.

      â€˜Uh-uh. You will leave when I say so.’

      â€˜Is this part of your master plan?’ She put her hands on her hips, as if to try and anchor herself. ‘To hold me against my will? Keep me here as your prisoner so that you can prove just what a detestable macho bully you have become?’

      â€˜And supposing I did?’ Lukas arrowed her a lethal look. ‘You and I both know what would happen. You would be all over me, Calista. Oh, you might pretend to be outraged...put up a display of resistance in the name of decorum. But in truth I would only have to click my fingers and you would be mine. Writhing beneath me, on top of me, down on me, begging for my attentions and then screaming for more. Look how you behaved just now. It’s pitiful, really. I should feel sorry for you.’

      Slap.

      The weight of Calista’s palm connected with the side of his jaw with an impressive crack.

      He had seen it coming. He could have stopped it. Spending time amongst some of Greece’s most notorious criminals had honed his instincts, taught him to read the situation before it happened. Lukas had always had fast reactions—now they were razor-sharp. But for some reason he had let it happen. For some reason he had wanted to feel it—that burn, that most primitive connection—to show that he was alive. To show that he could get to her. And the sting from her palm had set his heart racing.

      Calista Gianopoulous—the young woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind, whose betrayal had consumed him so obsessively that it had become part of the fabric of who he was. Now he had her where he wanted her. Now her humiliation was in his grasp. And he could squeeze as tightly as he wished.

      He studied her intently, standing there with her chin held high, her breasts heaving seductively beneath the demure black dress, pulling the fabric tight with every gasping, defiant breath. Her eyes flashed with a green so intense, so wild, it was as if she had been stripped of her sanity.

      He should be feeling vindicated, triumphant. But he didn’t feel either of those things. Instead he was simply consumed with the overwhelming need to possess her body again. His only conscious thought was how utterly magnificent she looked.

      He let a second of silence pass and tried to pull himself together, waiting to see what she would do next—almost willing her to strike him again so that this time he could intercept it, grasp her wrist and feel that physical connection between them again, see where it might lead. But instead she let her hand drop by her side, lowering the tawny sweep of her lashes. The pink pout of her lower lip, he noticed, had started to quiver.

      â€˜Resorting to violence, Calista?’ He gave a derisive laugh. ‘I would never have thought it of you.’

      â€˜It’s no more than you deserve.’

      â€˜No? Maybe not. But if we’re dishing out home truths, perhaps it’s time that you took a look at yourself.’

      Her head came up and there was fear in her eyes. ‘What do you mean by that?’

      â€˜Oh, come on, Calista, let’s drop the pretence. You see, I know.’

      â€˜Kn...know what?’

      If Lukas had had any doubt about her part in his downfall it was well and truly dispelled now. Guilt was written all over her pretty face—not just written, but spelled out in big, bold capitals. She positively shook with it, her hands trembling as she raised them to her mouth, her legs looking as if they wouldn’t be able to hold her up much longer.

      He let out a grim laugh. ‘Do you really need me to spell it out for you?’

      â€˜Lukas... I...’

      â€˜Because I will if you want.’

      Taking a couple of steps away he then turned, his eyes pinning her to the spot, as if they were in a courtroom.

      â€˜Let me take you back to the night of your eighteenth birthday party. The night my father discovered that the police had boarded one of the ships and found it was loaded with arms. While Stavros was over at Villa Melina, trying to find out what the hell was going on, your father dispatched you to “entertain” me. And you did a magnificent job—I have to say that.’

      He paused,