Wed for His Secret Heir Read online

  ‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded through her. But she could not relax as concern for her brother changed to a different kind of tension that had everything to do with the glitter in Giannis’s eyes. She couldn’t look away from his sensual mouth. His jaw was shadowed with black stubble and she wondered if it would feel abrasive against her cheek if he kissed her. If she kissed him back.

  She took another sip of wine before she remembered that she hadn’t had any lunch. Alcohol had a more potent effect on an empty stomach, she reminded herself. Her appetite had disappeared but she forced herself to eat a couple of forkfuls of Dover sole.

  ‘So tell me, Ava—you have a beautiful name, by the way.’ Giannis’s husky accent felt like rough velvet stroking across Ava’s skin, and the way he said her name in his lazy, sexy drawl, elongating the vowels—Aaavaaa—sent a quiver of reaction through her. ‘You said that you are not a journalist, so what do you do for a living?’

  Explaining about her work as a victim care officer might be awkward when Giannis was himself the victim of a crime which had been committed by her brother, Ava thought ruefully. Sam deeply regretted the extensive damage that he and his so-called ‘friends’ had caused to Giannis’s luxurious yacht. She needed to convince Giannis that her brother had made a mistake and deserved another chance.

  She reached for her wine glass, but then changed her mind. Her head felt swimmy—although that might be because she had inhaled the spicy, explicitly sensual scent of Giannis’s aftershave.

  ‘Actually I’m between jobs at the moment.’ She was pleased that her voice was steady, unlike her see-sawing emotions. ‘I recently moved from Scotland back to London to be closer to my mother...and brother.’

  Giannis ate some of his beef Wellington before he spoke. ‘I have travelled widely, but Scotland is one place that I have never visited. I’ve heard that it is very beautiful.’

  Ava thought of the deprived areas of Glasgow where she had been involved with a victim support charity, first as a volunteer, and after graduating from university she had been offered a job with the victim support team. In the past few years some of the city’s grim, grey tower blocks had been knocked down and replaced with new houses, but high levels of unemployment still remained, as did the incidence of drug-taking, violence and crime.

  She had felt that her job as a VCO—helping people who were victims or witnesses of crime—made amends in some small way for the terrible crimes her father had committed. But living far away in Scotland meant she had missed the signs that her brother had been drawn into the gang culture in East London. Her father’s old haunts.

  ‘Why do you care what I get up to?’ Sam had demanded when she had tried to talk to him about his behaviour. ‘You moved away and you don’t care about me.’ Ava felt a familiar stab of guilt that she hadn’t been around for Sam or her mother when they had both needed her.

  She dragged her thoughts back to the present and realised that Giannis was waiting for her to reply. ‘The Highlands have some spectacular scenery,’ she told him. ‘If you are thinking of making a trip to Scotland I can recommend a few places for you to visit.’

  ‘It would be better if you came with me and gave me a guided tour of the places you think would interest me.’

  Ava’s heart gave a jolt. Was he being serious? She stared into his dark-as-night eyes and saw amusement and something else that evoked a coiling sensation low in her belly. ‘We...we don’t know each other.’

  ‘Not yet, but the night is still young and full of endless possibilities,’ he murmured in his husky Mediterranean accent that made her toes curl. He gave a faint shrug of his shoulders, drawing her attention to his powerful physique beneath the elegant lines of his dinner jacket. ‘I have little leisure time and it makes sense when I visit somewhere new to take a companion who has local knowledge.’

  Ava was saved from having to reply when one of the event organisers arrived at the table to hand out catalogues which listed the items that were being offered in the fundraising auction.

  Giannis flicked through the pages of the catalogue. ‘Is there anything in the listings that you intend to bid for?’

  ‘Unfortunately I can’t afford the kind of money that a platinum watch or a luxury African safari holiday are likely to fetch in the auction,’ she said drily. ‘I imagine that art collectors will be keen to bid for the Mark Derring painting. His work is stunning, and art tends to be a good investment. There are also some interesting wines being auctioned. The Chateau Latour 1962 is bound to create a lot of interest.’

  Giannis gave her a thoughtful look. ‘So, I have already discovered that you are an expert in art and wine. I confess that I am intrigued by you, Ava.’

  She gave a self-conscious laugh. ‘I’m not an expert in either subject, but I went to a finishing school in Switzerland where I learned how to talk confidently about art, recognise fine wines and understand the finer points of international etiquette.’

  ‘I did not realise that girls—I presume only girls—still went to finishing schools,’ Giannis said. ‘What made you decide to go to one?’

  ‘My father thought it would be a good experience for me.’ Ava felt a familiar tension in her shoulders as she thought of her father. The truth was that she tried not to think about Terry McKay. That part of her life when she had been Ava McKay was over. She had lost touch with the friends she had made at the Institut Maison Cécile in St Moritz when her father had been sent to prison. But the few months that she had spent at the exclusive finishing school, which had numbered two European princesses among its students, had given her the social skills and exquisite manners which allowed her to feel comfortable at high society events.

  It was a pity that the finishing school had not given advice on how to behave when a gorgeous Greek god looked at her as if he was imagining her naked, Ava thought as her eyes locked with Giannis’s smouldering gaze. Panic and an inexplicable sense of excitement pumped through her veins. She was here at the charity dinner for her brother’s sake, she reminded herself. Giannis had said he would give her an opportunity to speak to him in private on the condition that she entertained him during dinner. She did not know if he had been serious, but she could not risk losing the chance to plead with him to show leniency to Sam.

  ‘It’s not fair,’ she murmured. She had to lean towards Giannis so that he could hear her above the hum of chatter in the banqueting hall, and the scent of him—spicy cologne mixed with an elusive scent of male pheromones—made her head spin. ‘I have told you things about me but you haven’t told me anything about yourself.’

  ‘That’s not true. I’ve told you that I have never visited Scotland. Although I have a feeling that I will take a trip there very soon,’ he drawled. His voice was indulgent like rich cream and the gleam in his eyes was wickedly suggestive.

  A sensuous shiver ran down Ava’s spine. Common sense dictated that she should respond to Giannis’s outrageous flirting with cool amusement and make a witty remark to put him in his place and let him know she wasn’t interested in him. Except that he fascinated her, and she felt like a teenager on a first date rather than an experienced woman of twenty-seven.

  She wasn’t all that experienced, a little voice in her head reminded her. At university she’d dated a few guys but the relationships had fizzled out fairly quickly. It had been her fault—she’d been wary of allowing anyone too close in case they discovered that she was leading a double life. Two years ago, she had met Craig at a party given by a work colleague. She had been attracted to his open and friendly nature and when they had become lovers she’d believed that they might have a future together. A year into their relationship, she had plucked up the courage and revealed her real identity. But Craig had reacted with horror to the news that she was the daughter of the infamous London gangland boss Terry McKay.

  ‘How could we have a family when there is a risk that our children might inherit your father’s crimi
nal genes?’ Craig had said, with no trace of warmth in his voice and a look of distaste on his face that had filled Ava with shame.

  ‘Criminality isn’t an inherited condition,’ she had argued. But she continued to be haunted by Craig’s words. Perhaps there was a ‘criminal gene’ that could be passed down through generations and she would not be able to save Sam from a life of crime.

  Ava forced her mind away from the past. She refused to believe that her kind, funny younger brother could become a violent criminal like their father. But the statistics of youths reoffending after being sent to prison were high. She needed to keep her nerve and seize the right moment to throw herself on Giannis’s mercy.

  In normal circumstances Ava would have found the bidding process at the charity auction fascinating. The sums of money that some of the items fetched were staggering—and far beyond anything her finances could stretch to. Giannis offered the highest bid of a six-figure sum for a luxury spa break at an exclusive resort in the Maldives for two people. Ava wondered who he planned to take with him. No doubt he had several mistresses to choose from. But if he wanted more variety, she was sure that any one of the women in the banqueting hall who she had noticed sending him covetous glances would jump at the chance to spend four days—and nights—with a gorgeous, wealthy Greek god. Giannis was reputed to have become a billionaire from his successful luxury cruise line company, The Gekas Experience.

  ‘Congratulations on your winning bid for the spa break. I don’t blame you for deciding that a visit to the Maldives would be more enjoyable than a trip to Scotland,’ she said, unable to prevent the faint waspishness in her voice as she pictured him cavorting in a tropical paradise with a supermodel.

  ‘I bought the spa break for my mother and sister. My mother has often said that she would like to visit the Maldives, and at least my sister will be pleased.’ There was an odd nuance in Giannis’s tone. ‘Perhaps the trip will make my mother happy, but I doubt it,’ he said heavily.

  Ava looked at him curiously, wanting to know more about his family. He had seemed tense when he spoke about his mother, but she was heartened to know that he had a sister and perhaps he would understand why she was so anxious to save her brother from a prison sentence.

  The auction continued, but she was barely aware of what was going on around her and her senses were finely attuned to the man seated beside her. While she sipped her coffee and pretended to study the auction catalogue she tried not to stare at Giannis’s strong, tanned hands as he picked up his coffee cup. But her traitorous imagination visualised his hands sliding over her naked body, cupping her breasts in his palms as he bent his head to take each of her nipples into his mouth.

  Sweet heaven! What had got into her? Hot-faced, she tensed when he moved his leg beneath the table and she felt his thigh brush against hers. He turned his head towards her, amusement gleaming in his eyes when he saw the hectic flush on her cheeks.

  ‘It is rather warm in here, isn’t it?’ he murmured.

  She was on fire and desperate to escape to the restroom so that she could hold her wrists under the cold tap to try to bring her temperature down. Perhaps spending a few minutes away from Giannis would allow her to regain her composure. ‘Please excuse me,’ she muttered as she shoved her chair back and stood up abruptly.

  ‘Ow!’ For a few seconds she could not understand why scalding liquid was soaking into the front of her dress. The reason became clear when she saw a waiter hovering close by. He was holding a cafetière, and she guessed that he had leaned over her shoulder in order to refill her coffee cup at the same time that she had jumped up and knocked into him.

  ‘I am so sorry, madam.’

  ‘It’s all right—it was my fault,’ Ava choked, wanting to die of embarrassment. She hated being the centre of attention but everyone at the table, everyone in the banqueting room, it seemed, was looking at her. The head waiter hurried over and added his profuse apologies to those of the waiter who had spilled the coffee.

  Giannis had risen from his seat. ‘Were you burned by the hot coffee?’ His deep voice was calm in the midst of the chaos.

  ‘I think I’m all right. My dress took the brunt of it.’ The coffee was cooling as it soaked through the material, but her dress was drenched and her attempts to blot the liquid with her napkin were ineffective. At least it was a black dress and the coffee stain might wash out, Ava thought. But she couldn’t spend the rest of the evening in her wet dress and she would have to go home without having had an opportunity to speak to Giannis about her brother.

  The hotel manager had been called and he arrived at the table to add his apologies and reprimand the hapless waiter. ‘Really, it’s my fault,’ Ava tried to explain. She just wanted to get out of the banqueting hall, away from the curious stares of the other diners.

  ‘Come with me.’ Giannis slipped his hand under her elbow, and she was relieved when he escorted her out of the room. She knew she would have to call for a taxi to take her home, but while she was searching in her bag for her phone she barely noticed that they had stepped into a lift until the doors slid smoothly shut.

  ‘We will go to my hotel suite so that you can use the bathroom to freshen up, and meanwhile I’ll arrange for your dress to be laundered,’ Giannis answered her unspoken question.

  Ava was about to say that there was no need for him to go to all that trouble. But it occurred to her that while she waited for her dress to be cleaned she would have the perfect opportunity to ask him to drop the charges against her brother. Was it sensible to go to a hotel room with a man she had never met before? questioned her common sense. This might be her only chance to save Sam, she reminded herself.

  The doors opened and she discovered that the lift had brought them directly to Giannis’s suite. Ignoring the lurch of her heart, she followed him across the vast sitting room. ‘The bathroom is through there,’ he said, pointing towards a door. ‘There is a spare robe that you can use and I’ll call room service and have someone collect your dress. Would you like some more wine, or coffee?’

  ‘I think I’ve had enough coffee for one night.’ She gave him a rueful smile and her stomach muscles tightened when his eyes focused intently on her mouth.

  She had definitely had enough wine, Ava thought as she shot into the opulent marble-tiled bathroom and locked the door, before releasing her breath on a shaky sigh. It must be her out-of-control imagination that made her think she had seen a predatory hunger in Giannis’s gaze. She wondered if he looked at every woman that way, and made them feel as though they were the most beautiful, the most desirable woman he had ever met. Probably. Giannis had a reputation as a playboy and he possessed an effortless charm that was irresistible.

  But not to her. She was immune to Giannis’s magnetism, she assured herself. As she stripped off her coffee-soaked dress and reached for the folded towelling robe on a shelf, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above the vanity unit. Her face was flushed and her eyes looked huge beneath her fringe. Usually she wore her hair up in a chignon but tonight she had left it loose and it reached halfway down her back. The layers that the hairdresser had cut into it made her hair look thick and lustrous, gleaming like spun gold beneath the bright bathroom light.

  Ava stared at herself in the mirror, startled by her transformation from ordinary and unexciting to a sensual Siren. She had bought a seamless black bra to wear beneath her dress and her nipples were visible through the semi-transparent cups. The matching black thong that she had worn for practical reasons—so that she would not have a visible panty-line—was the most daring piece of lingerie she had ever owned.

  She ran her hands over her smooth thighs above the lacy bands of her hold-up stockings and felt a delicious ache low in her pelvis. She felt sexy and seductive for the first time since Craig had dumped her as she pictured Giannis’s reaction if he saw her in her revealing underwear.

  She shook her head. It must be the
effects of the wine that had lowered her inhibitions and filled her mind with erotic images. Cursing her wayward thoughts, she slipped her arms into the robe and tied the belt firmly around her waist. Of course he was not going to see her underwear. She had come to his hotel suite for one purpose only—to ask him to give her brother another chance. Taking a deep breath, Ava opened the bathroom door and prepared to throw herself on Giannis Gekas’s mercy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HE WAS SPRAWLED on a sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms lying along the back of the cushions. He had removed his jacket and tie and unfastened the top few shirt buttons, to reveal a vee of olive-gold skin and a sprinkling of black chest hairs. Giannis looked indolent and yet Ava sensed that beneath his civilised veneer he was a buccaneer who lived life by his rules and ruthlessly took what he wanted. Plenty of women would want to try to tame him but she was sure that none would succeed. Giannis Gekas answered to no one, and her nerve almost deserted her.

  He stood up as she entered the sitting room and walked over to take her dress from her. ‘I rinsed out most of the coffee and wrung out as much water as I could,’ she explained as she handed him the soggy bundle of material.

  ‘I have been assured that your dress will be laundered and returned to you as quickly as possible,’ he told her as he strode across the room and opened the door of the suite to give the dress to a member of the hotel’s staff who was waiting in the corridor.

  Giannis closed the door and came back to Ava. ‘I ordered you some English tea and some petits fours,’ he said, indicating the silver tea service on the low table in front of the sofa. ‘Please, sit down.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She tore her eyes from him, her attention caught by a large canvas leaning against the wall. ‘That’s the Mark Derring painting from the auction.’