The Ruthless Greek's Return. Sharon Kendrick

      ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said and on reflection...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘On reflection, it does seem too good an opportunity to turn down. So I’ve decided to accept the offer—if it’s still on the table.’

      At the other end of the line Loukas clenched and unclenched his free hand, because her cool response frustrated him far more than her opposition had done. He liked her when she was fighting and fiery, because fire he could easily extinguish. Making ice melt was different—that took much longer—and he had neither the time nor the inclination to make his seduction of Jessica Cartwright into a long-term project. She was just another tick on the list he was working his way down. His heart clenched with bitterness even while his body clenched with lust. She was something unfinished he needed to file away in the box marked ‘over’. He wanted her body. To sate himself until he’d had his fill. And then he wanted to walk away and forget her.

      ‘Loukas,’ she was saying, her voice reminding him of all the erotic little things she used to whisper. She had been an incredibly quick learner, he remembered, his groin hardening uncomfortably. His innocent virgin had quickly become the most sensual lover he’d ever known.

      ‘Loukas, are you still there?’

      ‘Yes, I’m still here,’ he said unevenly. ‘And we need to talk.’

      ‘We’re talking now.’

      ‘Not like this. Face to face.’

      ‘But I thought...’

      Her voice tailed off and Loukas realised that he liked the heady kick of power which her uncertainty gave him. Suddenly he wanted her submissive. He wanted to be the one calling all the shots, as once she had called them. ‘What did you think, Jess?’ he questioned softly. ‘That you wouldn’t need to see me again?’

      He could hear her clearing her throat.

      ‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘I always deal with the advertising agency and the stylist—and the photographer, of course. That’s what usually happens.’

      ‘Well, you’re wrong. None of this is usual, because I am in charge now. I like a hands-on approach—and if the previous CEO had possessed any sense, he would have done the same. You need to meet with our new advertising agency and for that you need to be in London. I’ll have someone at Lulu book you into a hotel.’

      ‘Okay.’ She cleared her throat again. ‘When did you have in mind?’

      ‘As soon as possible. A car will be sent to pick you up this afternoon.’

      ‘That soon?’ Her voice sounded breathless. ‘You’re expecting me to be ready in a couple of hours?’

      ‘Are you saying you can’t? That you have other commitments?’

      ‘I might have,’ she stalled and something made her say it, though she wasn’t quite sure what. ‘I might have a date.’

      There was a pause. ‘Then cancel it, koukla mou.’

      As his words filtered down the line, Jessica froze, because even though it had been a long time since she’d heard it, the Greek term sounded thrillingly familiar. My doll. That was what it meant. Jessica bit her lip. He used to say it to her a lot, but never with quite such contempt. Once she had trembled with pleasure when he had whispered it into her ear but now the words seemed to mean different things. They seemed tinged with foreboding rather than affection.

      ‘And if I don’t?’ she questioned defiantly.

      ‘Why not take a little advice, mmm? Let’s not get this relationship off on a bad footing,’ he said. ‘Your initial refusal to cooperate irritated me but your game-playing is starting to irritate me even more. Don’t make the mistake of overestimating your own appeal, Jess—and don’t push me too far.’

      ‘And is that...’ she drew in a deep breath ‘...supposed to intimidate me?’

      ‘It’s supposed to make you aware of where we both stand.’

      There was a pause and his voice suddenly changed gear. It became sultry and velvety. It sounded irresistible.

      ‘Do you really have a date tonight, Jess?’

      She wanted to say yes—to tell him that some gorgeous man was coming round to take her out. A man who was carrying a big bunch of flowers and wearing a soppy grin on his face. And that after champagne and oysters, he would bring her back here and make mad, passionate love to her.

      But the vision disintegrated before her eyes, because the thought of any man other than Loukas touching her left her cold. And how sad was that?

      ‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t.’

      ‘Thavmassios.’ His voice dipped with satisfaction. ‘Then I will see you later. Oh, and make sure you bring your passport.’

      ‘What for?’

      ‘What do you think? The new team want to use an exotic location for the shoot,’ he said impatiently. ‘Just do it, will you, Jess? I don’t intend to run everything past you for your approval—that’s not how it works. It’s certainly not how I work.’

      He terminated the connection and Jessica found herself listening frustratedly to a hollow silence. But there was nothing she could do about it. She was going to have to change her image, if that was what it took. She would accept the makeover and smile for the camera and do her best to hold onto her contract for as long as she could. But that was all she would do. She knew what else he wanted and that certainly wasn’t written into the deal.

      She didn’t have to sleep with him.

      She closed all the windows, turned off the heating and emptied the fridge and two hours later a sleek black limousine arrived to collect her, slowly negotiating its way along the narrow, unmade road which led to her house.

      It felt disorientating to hand her bags to the uniformed driver and slide onto the back seat as the powerful vehicle pulled away. During the journey she tried to read but it was impossible to concentrate. Her mind kept taking her back to places she didn’t want to go—and the past was her biggest no-go destination. She stared out of the window and watched as the Cornish countryside gave way to Devon and found herself thinking about Loukas and the way he used to come and watch her practising, way before they’d got to know each other.

      The public footpath used to cross right by their tennis court when she had lived at the big house, and she would look up with a fast-beating heart to find a dark and brooding figure standing there. It used to drive her father potty, but it was a public space and he could hardly order the Greek bodyguard away. Not that he would have dared try. Loukas Sarantos wasn’t the kind of man you would order to do anything. She’d been a bit scared of him herself. He had been so dark and effortlessly powerful, and the way she’d caught him looking at her legs had made her feel... It was difficult to put into words the way he’d made her feel. She had tried very hard to steer her thoughts away from him and to concentrate on the fact that she double-faulted every time he watched her.

      ‘He will destroy your career!’ her father had roared and Jessica had promised that she wouldn’t see him—though at that point he hadn’t even asked her out.

      And then she’d run into him in the village when her father had taken his wife and Hannah up to London and Jessica had been given a rare day to herself. She hadn’t gone near a tennis ball all day and that had felt like a liberation in itself. She’d been feeling restless and rebellious and had wandered to the nearby shop to buy herself chocolate. Her hand had been hovering over the purple-wrapped bar when a deeply accented voice had said,

      ‘Do you really think you should?’

      She had looked up into a pair of mocking black eyes and something had happened. It had felt like being touched by magic. As if her heart had caught fire. She didn’t remember what they’d said, only that he’d flirted with her and she’d flirted back in a way which had seemed