Blackmailed Into The Greek Tycoon's Bed. Carol Marinelli

      It was a coat, for heaven’s sake… Her mind was racing, sweat beading on her forehead and running between her breasts, as slowly she wandered nearer the door, sure everyone knew what she was contemplating. Glancing around the room, she saw the world appeared to be carrying right on as normal—men laughing, couples chatting, the chinking sound of china as afternoon tea was taken. And, with one last, furtive glance to the lobby, impulse took over for the second time that day.

      Pushing open the door, Karin stepped out. The air felt cold and delicious on her burning cheeks, and she ran. Guilt and shame chased her as she dodged people, colliding with them at times, dirty water splashing her stockinged legs; her lungs felt as though they were bursting. Then stars that had been exploding in front of her eyes suddenly went black as her forward movement was rapidly halted by a huge wedge of flesh. Arms wrapped around her from behind as she was expertly tackled and brought down to the floor.

      The brute of a man who had felled her, yet who had also partly cushioned her landing, spoke. ‘Going somewhere in a hurry?’

      Karin recognised him as the England rugby captain, and prayed, just prayed, that he wouldn’t recognise her at that moment. She lay in stunned silence, her stockings laddered, her knee grazed and her face muddied as, less than gracefully, he hauled her up to embark on her walk of shame. Karin felt sure that her grandfather must be turning in his grave, as the granddaughter he had so proudly adored was frogmarched back to the hotel by one of his beloved England team.

      It was the most humiliating walk of her life, but because it was Xante Rossi’s hotel at least the incident was dealt with discreetly—even a common thief was treated with dignity at Xante’s establishment.

      She was spared the shame of being dealt with in the lobby; instead she and the captain were guided to the manager’s office. She could hear the distant sound of police sirens as the door closed; the manager stared at her grimly, the captain eyeing her with utter distaste.

      ‘It’s not how it looks,’ Karin croaked, still clutching the rose, holding it in her hands, the evidence irrefutable.

      ‘I’d say it’s exactly how it looks,’ came the captain’s surly response.

      ‘Let’s just wait for the police,’ the manager said politely.

      For Xante, most of the event had gone unnoticed. Chatting to his staff and guests, he had been mildly aware of some activity in the lounge, but Albert’s well-oiled crisis machine meant that even he hadn’t noticed the drama. He had looked over, frowning, when he realised that she wasn’t there. His mind was not on the jewel, but the woman; he was more than ready to commence from where he had left off.

      And then Albert discreetly told him what had just occurred.

      He was incensed.

      Not just about the trinket, not just with her, but with himself.

      He read women. Apart from making an obscene amount of money, that was what he did best. He had grown up on it, thrived on it, and after his bitter breakup with Athena he had honed his skill and perfected it, determined he would never be beguiled again. Yet Karin Wallis just had.

      He would press charges! Xante’s face was as black as thunder as he walked unannounced into the manager’s office. He would have her prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Let’s see how ladylike she looks being loaded into the back of a police car, Xante thought as he slammed into the office.

      And then he saw her face.

      Drained of colour, streaked with mud, her green eyes pleaded with him. Her legs nervously bobbed up and down as she sat, and he took in her grazed and bloodied knee. It was then that Xante remembered where he knew her name from.

      Wallis.

      The rose he had purchased had been awarded to the late, great Henry Wallis—and now, here before him, was the greedy seller. Even Xante had been taken aback by the high reserve-price that had been placed on the rose, but his appetite had been whetted, and he had paid the inordinate sum. Now it seemed the little vixen had decided she wanted it back.

      She made him sick!

      ‘I saw her leaving with it,’ the captain explained. ‘I chased her.’

      ‘What were you thinking, Karin?’ He saw the flash of question in her eyes as to how he knew her name. Xante’s mind was working overtime. Henry Wallis was a legend, a legend who deserved protection. His intention had been to press charges, but with the England rugby team staying at his hotel he could do without this type of publicity. No. He stared into Karin’s curious eyes and decided he would deal with her himself.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ Her teeth were chattering so violently she could barely get the sentence out. ‘Please, I’ll do anything…’

      Which was something to work with, at least!

      ‘My apologies, officer.’ He flashed his charming smile to the police officer present. ‘We appear to have wasted your time. There’s been a misunderstanding.’

      ‘She was caught stealing…’

      ‘We were arguing!’ Xante interrupted. ‘This is her grandfather’s jewel; Karin does not like the fact that I have it on display, do you, darling?’ He watched her nervous swallow and smiled his black smile at her. ‘She feels it cheapens his memory.’

      ‘You’re Karin Wallis?’ The England captain winced in recognition. ‘Of course you are. I’m so sorry…’

      ‘You were not to know,’ Xante assured him, rapidly clearing things up as Karin sat there reeling. ‘Come.’ He offered her his hand, his face smiling; only she could see the dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘We’ll go upstairs and sort this out.’

      She didn’t have much choice, but for an instant Karin actually considered calling the police back and confessing; anything was preferable to going up to this man’s room. She could sense his anger, sense danger, and for Karin it was terrifying. As they stood in the lift, his black eyes bored into her. She stood rigid, refusing to look at him, fingering the scar on her wrist and wondering how she could possibly extricate herself from this mess. Thinking of her sister Emily at boarding school, and the very public humiliation she would have suffered had Xante Rossi pressed charges.

      ‘Sit down,’ he ordered when they reached their destination, but not unkindly. He poured her a large glass of water from a jug and watched as she drank. He refilled her glass, before taking himself to his desk and sitting directly opposite her.

      ‘Are you okay?’

      Funny, given the circumstances, that he cared enough to ask. But Karin was strangely touched that he had. ‘I’d like to apologise.’ She tried to look him in the eye, except she couldn’t. ‘For the misunderstanding.’

      ‘Karin.’ Xante halted her there. ‘We both know the truth, remember? You came here with every intention of stealing the rose.’

      ‘No.’ Karin pleated the hem of her skirt with her fingers, wondering how to possibly explain the moment of madness that had come over her. ‘I came here to talk with you. I’m supposed to be attending a function on Saturday at Twickenham to honour my grandfather. It was his rose, and I’m expected to bring it—only it was stolen from my home; I’ve been trying to track it down…’ Karin knew that if she were strapped to a lie detector it would be smoking now. Could almost see the needle waving frantically as she spoke, and, worse, she knew that Xante knew she was lying. ‘I never intended to steal it, it was…’ His black eyes just stared and she willed him to halt her, but he didn’t. ‘It was just on impulse. I’m probably not making much sense.’

      ‘Take your time.’ Xante gave her a thin smile. ‘I’m not in any rush.’

      ‘I’m sorry, okay?’

      ‘For lying or for stealing?’

      ‘I’m telling the truth.’

      ‘Could I just say something here?’ Xante stared