The Greek's Forbidden Princess. Annie West

shadow of doubt in his stern face. He’d thought she’d be easier to bully.

      ‘I could call a reporter now. By nightfall we’d have a posse of them here, eager for developments.’ Amelie rested her hands on her hips, enjoying the fleeting sense of power that flooded her freezing body.

      Yet still he didn’t take the bait.

      She waited as the seconds ticked into a full minute and more. Still he didn’t move or give in.

      Even if she followed through and made a formal complaint, or brought in the press, she’d be the one to lose. She and Seb.

      They had lost.

      She’d gambled against the odds with Seb’s future and failed. Now time was running out.

      The enormity of it was a body slam, jarring her from head to toe. She had to stiffen her knees to stop from crumpling as she unravelled inside. All her hopes shattered and little Seb... No, she couldn’t think about it now, with this man watching her like a bird of prey spying on a mouse. She needed privacy when she finally crashed.

      Whiplash fast, she shoved his hand off her shoulder and moved towards the driver’s door.

      ‘Where are you going?’

      Amelie didn’t answer. This was probably the first time in her life she’d ignored a direct question. It should have felt liberating, but all she registered was choking misery.

      She ripped open the driver’s door. They couldn’t stay here. If she was to get them safely back down the mountain they had to go now.

      The sound of swearing stopped her. Low and soft, his rich voice turned even the tumble of foreign swear words into a stream of velvet heat.

      ‘Just tell me what you want, Princess.’

      Amelie didn’t let herself flinch at his bitter use of her title. He said it as if they were strangers. Nor did she turn.

      She didn’t want to see the steely face of Lambis Evangelos, the man who’d shattered her dreams and now held her hopes for little Seb in his brutally hard palm.

      ‘You.’ Her throat closed so it came out as a whisper. She swallowed and tried again. ‘I want you.’

       CHAPTER TWO

      I WANT YOU.

      Hell and damnation.

      Her words shouldn’t have any effect.

      They didn’t. She’d just taken him by surprise. How had she managed it? Where was her retinue of officials and paparazzi?

      More important—why did she want him?

      There was nothing here for her. He’d made that plain three years ago. Besides, Amelie had pride; she wouldn’t come after him again.

      Lambis scowled. The past was a place he refused to visit.

      ‘You’ll need to be more specific. What do you want me for?’

      Lambis stared down at her slim form as she slowly turned, her hand white-knuckled on the door, her upswept blonde hair and stunning green eyes the only colour in the scene before him. Her whole body trembled from the wintry blast she refused to acknowledge. She wore pale trousers and a matching sweater that clung elegantly and expensively to her lithe frame but did nothing to keep out the cold.

      His instinct on seeing her had been to tear off his coat and wrap it around her slender shoulders. But he’d resisted. Better to kill her hopes so she left immediately than let her believe she had a chance of staying.

      ‘Seb needs you. As you’d know if you bothered to check my messages.’

      Messages he’d left unopened. Returning to St Galla for the funeral had been tougher than even he had imagined. He didn’t want reminders of the tragedy and his own guilt. Or of her.

      ‘Seb?’ How could the boy possibly need him?

      Amelie’s mouth flattened. Her eyes had lost their brilliance. They looked opaque with pain, even though her body language was almost aggressive as she leaned into his space. That in itself was remarkable. Amelie was always poised, graceful and polite, the least aggressive person he knew.

      Lambis was horrified to realise her eyes looked even more lifeless than on the day they’d buried her brother and sister-in-law. He hated that blankness.

      ‘You haven’t forgotten your godson, surely?’

      As if on cue Lambis registered movement in the car. A hand palmed the rear window. A pale, tiny hand. Beside it was a sombre young face, golden hair tufted from sleep.

      There was no smile of recognition. It was the numbed look of someone who didn’t expect a welcome and it cut like a blade to Lambis’s belly.

      He hunkered beside the door, putting his face on a level with the boy’s. Those big eyes regarded him, unblinking. They looked even more desolate than his aunt’s, as if they’d never glowed with mischief or delight.

      No four-year-old should look that way. But in the circumstances maybe it was inevitable.

      Lambis forced his stiff lips into something like a smile. ‘Hey, Sébastien. How are you?’

      Haunted eyes stared back through the glass. Sébastien said nothing. Nor did his face register emotion. Just that terrible blankness that stirred the frigid waters of Lambis’s soul.

      Looking at Amelie, and now at Seb, reminded him suddenly of another snowy day on this mountain. The day all the warmth inside him had been snuffed out in a catastrophic blast of icy reality.

      Lambis reached for the door, urgently needing to see that little face smile in recognition.

      ‘Don’t!’ Amelie’s voice was sharp as the crack of doom as she inserted herself between Lambis and the car. He found himself staring at a narrow waist and full breasts, her nipples budded enticingly beneath thin wool.

      Lambis’s breath stalled as heat ignited in his gut. Unseen parts of him might have long since shrivelled and died, but he was still a man, and it had been too long since he’d had a woman.

      Through the frosty scent of the thickening snow, he inhaled the gardenia perfume that always made him think of Amelie and sunny St Galla. He remembered how tempting they’d both been. How tough it had been to leave her.

      ‘Why not?’ His gaze strayed lower, over the feminine shape revealed by her fitted trousers, and a pulse quickened in his groin. Instantly he rose, shoving his hands in his pockets.

      Amelie looked petite and far too fragile, despite the way her chin swung up as if daring him to test her.

      ‘Because I was wrong. I thought you’d help, but the last thing he needs is some fleeting pretend friendly contact with a man who’d bar his door to us. Especially in this.’ The tilt of her head indicated the falling snow.

      A flake settled on her cheek, melting, but she didn’t seem to notice.

      ‘If you’ll step away from the car, we’ll be on our way.’ She folded her arms and her breasts rose, plump and inviting. Lambis yanked his gaze higher.

      She wasn’t bluffing.

      He should be relieved. He didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with their problems. He had a multinational business to run, people relying on him. He didn’t want Amelie here, stirring emotions, interrupting the smooth running of his life.

      Yet he didn’t move.

      Whatever the problem, Lambis wasn’t the man to solve it. He knew his limitations. In his profession it was vital to know your strengths and weaknesses, and those of others. Yet the anxiety he’d felt, seeing Sébastien’s staring face, made him hesitate.

      She seemed ridiculously dainty to try facing him down. Dainty and shattered, though