Blackmailed Into The Greek Tycoon's Bed. Carol Marinelli

neck, her skirt low on her knees, and her shoes were just a little too flat and heavy to really set off such magnificent legs. But still she was stunning. Still Xante had to look away, reaching for a newspaper and pretending to read for a full five minutes before it could be considered decent to stand.

      Busy or not, Xante decided as he crossed the room, there was always time for a beautiful woman.

      Karin didn’t actually know what she was doing here, or even what she was going to do now that she was.

      It had been four weeks since she’d realised the rose was missing. She’d confronted her brother Matthew and had found out that he’d sold it. She’d agreed to sell off yet another painting, an ornate dresser and her late mother’s favourite earrings to pay for their sister’s final year of schooling—not realising that when she had signed the documents he’d deliberately beguiled her and had added the jewelled rose to the document too.

      The ruby-encrusted rose that had been awarded to her grandfather the year the England rugby team had won every game they had played was so much more than a trinket. It had been her grandfather’s prized possession—Karin’s too. So many times she had escaped the chaos at home to go and spend some time with her widowed grandfather at Omberley Manor, the home she and Matthew now lived in. There had been many afternoons spent listening to the wonderful tales of his glory days, and Karin remembered each one with love. By the time Karin was fifteen, her grandfather had long since washed his hands of his wayward son and wife, and had told Karin that the rose would be hers on his death. For Karin the rose was the last link to her grandfather and to the great man he had been. It also represented everything her family could have been. And, if she protected her sister from the truth just a little while longer, it was a symbol of everything Emily might one day become.

      Karin had been frantically searching for the rose for weeks. Next week she had a formal function to attend at Twickenham to celebrate her grandfather’s achievements, and it was assumed she would bring the jewel with her, but every attempt to trace it had proven futile. All she knew was that the rose had been sold to an anonymous bidder—the buyer, apparently, had insisted on anonymity—and Karin didn’t even know if it was a he or she.

      Till this morning.

      Karin had been taking her morning coffee-break, sitting in the library-staffroom and reading an article in the newspaper about the start of the Six Nations rugby tournament that was due to begin the following February. A small piece about the lavish hotel in Twickenham where the England rugby team would be for a charity event had caught her eye. It would seem that the owner, a Greek shipping tycoon, had an impressive display of sports memorabilia, she’d read—his latest acquisition, the bespoke ruby-rose.

      Karin lived a rigid and ordered life. She chose to; it was better that than succumb to the reckless, gluttonous gene that had ultimately killed her parents and was now wreaking havoc on her brother. She rarely acted on impulse.

      But an hour ago she had.

      Pleading a sudden migraine, she had grabbed her coat and hailed a taxi—and now here she was, in a place where she could barely afford a sandwich. Appearances to the Wallises were everything, so Karin had ordered refreshments and had sat to draw breath and try to form a plan. And then she had seen it, locked behind glass, just a few metres from where she sat.

      It had been cleaned.

      As she walked over to examine it, for a moment she wondered if it was her rose, but of course it was. In fact, glittering, sparkling and lovingly restored to its pristine glory, it was just as she remembered it from her childhood. Long-ago days when she would press her face to the glass and ask to hold the ‘fairy wand’, as she had called it. Bending her knees slightly and peering closely into the cabinet, she realised she was practically doing that now.

      ‘My rose is very beautiful, yes?’ A low, heavily accented voice reminded her of her surroundings, and Karin quickly straightened up.

      ‘Very,’ came her rigid response, her teeth grinding together as this man, who introduced himself as Xante Rossi, dared to tell her some more about it, dared to give her its history. Her head turned in confrontation, especially when he dared to refer to the rose as his.

      ‘Actually…’ When finally she faced him, Karin only managed a single word. So violent was her reaction to this man, she felt as if she’d been side-swiped. His black eyes slammed into hers and it felt as though she was falling into a dangerous spin. She wanted desperately to slam on the brakes, to swerve, to do something, but instead she stood for a telling moment, just too stunned to react.

      Usually she wore her frozen shield well, but, so focussed had she been on the rose, for a moment she had dropped her guard and utterly lost her aloof facade. Her face was flaming, as in one lingering second she took in the raven hair and the straight Roman nose. But it was the black eyes that continued to hold hers for a fraction longer than was decent, his full, sensual mouth curving into a slight smile as he gauged the intensity of her reaction.

      This would take no time at all!

      ‘Here.’ He unlocked the display cabinet. Xante did not need to show off, to impress, but somehow he did want to impress her. He was quietly pleased with his latest acquisition, the ruby rose the perfect accessory for his top-class hotel. He took no real pleasure in the actual possession of it, or the rest of his memorabilia. It was more that he thrived on the drive it had taken to succeed. But the rose really was exceptionally beautiful, and represented the lion-hearted men of England. Opening the cabinet, he pulled out the trinket.

      ‘It deserves closer inspection; you are welcome to hold it,’ Xante said, and Karin blinked, watching as long-fingered, olive-skinned hands unlocked the cabinet. A heavy, expensive watch was revealed beneath the pristine white cuffs of his shirt, the sharp cut of his immaculate suit moving to accommodate wide shoulders as he bent to retrieve the jewel. Even the back of his head was sexy. Jet-black hair, without a single hint of grey, was superbly cut into a delicious point at the back of his neck. As he stood to his impressive height her guard shot up. Hypervigilant now, Karin deliberately didn’t look at him. He was flirting, and Karin knew it. She didn’t usually look at men like that, didn’t invite them in, and with good reason. If he hadn’t been handing her the rose, she’d have paid her bill and left, would have terminated contact there and then. Except she could feel the familiar, cool weight of the trinket in her hand.

      ‘Excuse me, sir…’ The hotel manager brought welcome diversion for Karin, but not Xante. ‘Another player has just arrived.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Xante had to go. It was right that he go, but he also wanted to return. It would be rude to take the jewel from her now and lock it up; she was staring at it so intently, enjoying its beauty, just as Xante was enjoying hers. She had the most exquisite eyes, the only flash of colour in her pale face, a rich turquoise-green, a colour that reminded Xante of the Aegean Sea of home… Dangerous seas, Xante simultaneously reminded himself and discounted. She was a lady; Xante was sure of it. In an instant he’d made up his mind. ‘Enjoy…’ He gave her another devastating smile. ‘I shall be back in just a moment.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      HE’D left her with it.

      As Xante walked off, Karin stood reeling at the turn of events. She’d walked in here with no notion or plan, and the owner had just handed the rose to her and left her with it.

      It was a sign surely that it was hers to do with as she wished.

      Karin had never stolen a thing in her life. Not once had such a thing entered her head. But it entered it now. She had come here on impulse, to plead with the buyer just to see it… She truly didn’t know. She had no money to buy it back; her brother Matthew had spent it before Karin had even realised the rose was missing.

      And now here it was, in her hands, and this man had no idea who she was…

      Her heart was pounding, her head whirring with indecision.

      It belonged in her family, Karin frantically reasoned. It had been her grandfather’s most treasured possession, and this Greek billionaire with his bags of money had just bid