Kitabı oku: «Reluctant Mistress, Blackmailed Wife»
Lynne Graham
Reluctant Mistress, Blackmailed Wife
TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ONE
AS WRY amusement lit his eyes, which could be as dark and deep as an underground river, Alexandros Christakis watched his grandfather walk round the sleek silver Ascari KZ1 he had just had delivered. A supercar, it was the ultimate boy-toy, for only fifty would ever be built. The older man’s excitement at being that close to such a rare and powerful vehicle was palpable.
‘A car that costs almost a quarter of a million.’ Pelias, tall and straight in spite of his seventy-five years, shook his grizzled head and smiled with almost boyish approval. ‘It is sheer madness, but it does my heart good to see you taking an interest in such things again!’
Alexandros said nothing in response to that leading comment, his expression unrevealing, his legendary reserve impenetrable. Gossip columnists regularly referred to the billionaire head of the CTK Bank as beautiful. Alexandros loathed the press, and had little time for such frivolity. His lean, bronzed features might have a breathtaking symmetry that turned female heads wherever he went, but the forceful angle of his jawline, the tough slant of his cheekbones and the obdurate set of his wide, sensual mouth suggested a fierce strength of character that was more of a warning to the unwary.
‘You’re still a young man—only thirty-one years old.’ Pelias Christakis spoke with caution, for he had long been in awe of his brilliant grandson and rarely dared breach his reticence. ‘Naturally I understand that you will never forget your grief, but it is time for you to take up your life once more.’
Marvelling at the oldman’s essential innocence, Alexandros murmured flatly, ‘I took my life back a long time ago.’
‘But all you have done since Ianthe passed away is work, and make more and more money from bigger and bigger deals! How much money can one man need in a lifetime? How many homes can one man use?’ Pelias Christakis flung up his hands in an extrovert gesture that encompassed the superb Regency country house in front of him. And Dove Hall was only one item in his grandson’s vast property portfolio. ‘You are already rich beyond most men’s dreams.’
‘I thought onwards and upwards was the Christakis motto.’ Alexandros brooded on the unhappy truth that people were never satisfied. He had been raised to be an Alpha-male high-achiever, with the merciless killer instincts of a shark. He was competitive, ambitious, and aggressive when challenged. Every aspect of his upbringing had been carefully tailored to ensure that he grew up as the exact opposite of his late father, who had been a lifelong layabout and an embarrassment to his family.
‘I’m proud of you—immensely proud,’ his grandfather hastened to assert in an apologetic undertone. ‘But the world can offer you so much more than the next takeover or merger. Companionship may seem an old-fashioned concept—’
‘Of course there have been women.’ Alexandros compressed his handsome mouth, only his respect for the older man’s good intentions restraining him from the delivery of a more caustic response. ‘Is that what you want to hear?’
Pelias raised a beetling brow in rueful emphasis. ‘I’ll be more interested to hear that you’ve been with the same woman for longer than a week!’
Exasperated by that censorious response, Alexandros immediately grasped what his grandfather was driving at, and cold annoyance overpowered tolerance. ‘But I’m not in the market for anything serious. I have no intention of getting married again.’
His companion treated him to a look of surprise. ‘Did I mention marriage?’
Unimpressed by that air of virtuous naivety—for Pelias was not a good dissembler—Alexandros said nothing. He was grimly aware that the very fact that he was an only child put an extra weight of expectation and responsibility on him. Traditional Greek culture set great store on the carrying on of the family name. Understandably, his grandparents held the convictions of their age group. But Alexandros felt equally entitled to his own views, and believed that only honesty would suffice. As he had not the slightest desire to be a father, he had no plans to remarry. Becoming a parent had been his late wife’s dream, if not her obsession. Now that Ianthe was gone, he saw no reason to pretend otherwise.
‘I don’t want another wife…or children, for that matter,’ Alexandros admitted in a flat, unapologetic undertone, his lean dark face aloof. ‘I appreciate that this must disappoint you, but that’s how it is and I’m not going to change.’
Pelias Christakis had lost colour. Stripped of all the natural exuberance of his warm, engaging personality, he suddenly looked old, troubled, and very much at a loss. Feeling like the guy who had not only killed but also tortured Santa Claus, Alexandros suppressed any urge to soften the blow and raise false hopes. It had had to be said.
Now a veteran at jumble sales, Katie leapt straight into the competitive fray, rummaging through the pile of baby clothes. Emerging victorious with an incredibly smart little jacket and trouser set, she asked the lady on the stall, ‘How much for this?’
It was more than she could afford, and she put it back with a regret that was only fleeting—because she had long since learned that her real priorities were shelter, food and warmth. Clothes came fourth on her survival list of necessities, so newness and smartness were almost always out of reach. She found a sweater and a pair of jeans at a price within her means. Though both garments were shabby they had plenty of life left in them. The twins were growing so fast that keeping them clothed was a constant challenge. As she paid, the lady offered to reduce the price on the trouser set, but Katie flushed and said no thanks, for she had now spent what she had to spare. The pity she saw in the woman’s eyes embarrassed her.
‘They’re lovely boys,’ the stallholder said reluctantly. She had noticed that Katie’s hands were bare of rings, and although she hoped she was a charitable woman she very much disapproved of young unwed mothers.
Katie glanced at her sons, seated side by side in the worn twin buggy, and a rueful smile of maternal pride crept across the weary line of her mouth. Toby and Connor were gorgeous babies, and very well advanced for their age of nine months. The combination of black curly hair, pale golden skin and big brown eyes gave them an angelic air that was rather deceptive. The twins thrived on attention and activity, screeched the place down when disappointed, whinged at length when bored, and required very little sleep. But Katie absolutely adored them, and often studied them with the dazed feeling that she could not possibly have given birth to two such clever and beautiful children. Not only did they not look like her, they did not act like her either. Only in low moments, when she was fighting total exhaustion, was she willing to admit that she was finding it a real struggle to cope with their constant demands.
On the walk home, she found herself looking at other young women. It bothered her when she caught herself thinking that the ones without kids seemed more youthful, light-hearted and attractive. She saw her reflection in a shop window and stared, her heart sinking. Suddenly she wanted to cry. There had been a time when, had she made the required effort, she would have been called pretty. Now that was just a memory, and she was a small thin girl with a pinched face and red hair caught back in a ponytail. She looked nondescript and plain. She swallowed hard, knowing that Toby and Connor’s father would never look at her now.
Once she had marvelled that he had ever deigned to notice her. She had thought it was so romantic that a dazzlingly attractive male who could have had literally any woman should instead have chosen her. But the passage of time and cruel experience had destroyed her fanciful illusions one by one and forced her to face less palatable truths. Now Katie accepted that he had only noticed her because she had been the sole female in his vicinity when he’d felt like sex. She had given him what he wanted without making a single demand. He had never at any stage regarded her as anything other than a social inferior—for he had never even taken her out on a date. When her breathless adoration had palled, he had dumped her so hard and fast she still shivered thinking about it. Nothing had ever hurt her as much as that cold, harsh descent from fantasy to reality.
Only a few minutes after she’d got back to her bedsit, her landlord appeared at her door. ‘You’ll have to go,’ he told her bluntly. ‘I’ve had another complaint about the noise your kids make at night.’
Katie stared at him in horror. ‘But all babies cry—’
‘And two babies make twice as much of a din.’
‘I swear I’ll try to keep them quieter—’
‘You said that the last time I spoke to you, and nothing’s changed,’ the older man cut in, unimpressed. ‘You’ve had your warning and I’m giving you two weeks’ notice. If you don’t move out willingly, I’ll have you evicted. So let’s keep it simple. Get yourself down to Social Services and they’ll soon sort you out with another place!’
Appalled at his belligerent attitude, Katie tried in vain to reason with him. Long after he had gone, she sat with her arms wrapped round herself while she fought the awful feeling of despair stealing over her. She was painfully aware that she had virtually no hope of fighting such a decree when complaints had been lodged against her. Her tenancy was only of the unassured variety, and she did not even feel she could blame the other tenants for kicking up a fuss. The walls were paper-thin and the twins did regularly cry at night.
The bedsit needed decorating, the furniture was battered and the shared facilities were dismal. But the room had still come to feel like home to Katie. Furthermore, the building was in good repair and the area was reasonably respectable and safe. She was not afraid to walk down the street. Unlike during her pregnancy, when she had spent a couple of months in a flat on an inner city estate. Drug dealing and gang warfare had been a way of life there, and she had been terrified every time she’d had to go out.
Although she had been about to put Toby and Connor down for a nap, she realised that she would have to go straight back out again. In two short weeks she would be homeless, and she needed to give the housing authorities as much time as possible to locate alternative accommodation for them. Just when had she sunk so low that she no longer had the power to help herself? She blinked back a sudden rush of tears. She was twenty-three years old. She had always been a doer—independent, energetic and industrious. But she had not realised how difficult it would be to raise two children alone. She had not realised how poor she would be either. Indeed, in the latter stages of pregnancy she had made enthusiastic plans about getting her career back on track. She had expected to return to fulltime employment, not end up dependent on welfare handouts for survival. Ill-health, accommodation problems, transport costs and sleepless nights had slowly but surely destroyed her hopes.
A week crawled past, during which Katie did everything she could to find somewhere else to live. But the few leads she had got turned into dead ends. Midway through the second week she began to panic, and a social worker informed her that she would have to go into emergency bed and breakfast accommodation.
‘You’ll hate it,’ her friend Leanne Carson declared. ‘The room won’t be yours to do what you want with, and there probably won’t be any cooking facilities.’
‘I know,’ Katie muttered heavily.
‘Crying babies won’t be flavour of the month there either.’ The pretty blue-eyed brunette whom Katie had met in hospital sighed, ‘You’ll be moved on again in no time. Why are you being such a doormat?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You told me that the twins’ dad had money. Why don’t you spread a little of that cash in your own direction? If the stingy creep is newsworthy and wealthy enough, you could sell your story to the press.’
‘Don’t be daft.’ Katie pressed pale fingers to her pounding temples.
‘Of course you’d have to spice the story up. Ten-times-a-night sex, how insatiable or kinky his demands were—you know the sort of thing…’
Katie reddened to the roots of her hair. ‘No, I don’t—’
‘The sordid details are what make tittle-tattle like that entertaining and worth oodles of cash. Don’t be such a prude! The guy’s a total bastard. He deserves to be embarrassed!’
‘Maybe he does, but I couldn’t do it. That’s not what I’m about. I appreciate that you’re only trying to help, but—’
‘You’re never going to get up out of the gutter with that bad attitude.’ Leanne rolled scornful eyes heavy with mascara and glittering blue shadow. ‘Are you just going to lie down and die? Let the bloke get away with it? If you really love your little boys, you’ll be ready to do whatever it takes to give them a better life!’
Katie flinched as though she had been slapped.
Leanne dealt her a defiant look. ‘It’s true, and you know it is. You’re letting the kids’ father…this Alexandros whatever…you’re letting him escape his responsibilities.’
‘I contacted the Child Support Agency—’
‘Yeah, like they’ve got the time and resources to try and pin your kids on some foreign business tycoon! He’s rich. He’d refuse to take DNA tests, or he’d stay out of the country, or pretend he’d lost all his money. If you insist on playing it by the book, you’ll never see a penny from him,’ the other woman forecast with cynical conviction. ‘No, if you ask me, you’re only going to escape your current problems if you do a kiss-and-tell for the tabloids!’
Katie couldn’t sleep that night. She thought of the sacrifices her own mother had had to make to bring her up. Widowed when her daughter was only six, Maura had had to work as a cleaner, a caretaker and a cook to make ends meet. In the darkness, Katie lay still and taut with discomfiture. Alexandros had dumped her, ignored her appeal for help and broken her stupid heart. She had decided she would sooner starve than appeal to him again. But had she let false pride get in the way of her duty towards her infant sons? Was Leanne right? Could she have done more to press her case with Alexandros?
Two days later, Katie moved out of her bedsit with Leanne’s help. Luckily her friend was able to store some stuff for her. The surplus had to be dumped or passed on to be sold on a market stall, because Katie could not afford storage costs. The bed and breakfast hotel was crowded and her room was small, drab and depressing.
After spending her first night there, Katie rose heavy-eyed, but driven by a new and fierce determination. She had decided that she was willing to do whatever it took to give Toby and Connor a secure roof over their heads. The prospect of public embarrassment and humiliation and further rejection should not deter her. Right now she was letting her kids down by acting like a wimp, she told herself squarely. Leanne had been right to speak up. More vigorous action was definitely required.
With that in mind, Katie went to the library to use the internet and see if she could discover any new information about Alexandros. She had tried and failed several times before, and quite a few months had passed since her last effort. But this time the search offered her the option of trying an alternative name, and when she tried that link she stared in shock as the screen filled with potential sites. A recognisable photo of Alexandros folded down on the very first she visited.
It only then dawned on Katie that her previous searches had been unsuccessful because she had spelled his name as Crestakis, not Christakis. She had got his name wrong. She was stunned. That crucial yet simple mistake had ensured that she hadn’t found out that Alexandros was the chief executive of CTK Bank, which had a substantial office in London. All the time that she had been engaged in a desperate struggle for survival, Alexandros had been making regular trips to the UK!
For a while she just surfed, seeing him variously described as brilliant, beautiful, arctic-cool, impassive. This was the guy she had fallen crazily in love with, all right, although she had refused to accept back then that she was on a highway to nowhere. The nape of her neck prickled when she read a newspaper report about a merger announcement expected from CTK the next morning. If something big was in the air, Alexandros was almost certain to be putting in an appearance. If she got up early, she could go to the City, wait outside the bank, and try to intercept him when he arrived.
Of course she could also go the more normal route and ask for an appointment with him, couldn’t she? Her soft mouth down-curved at that idea. She was convinced that he wouldn’t agree to see her. After all, he had given her a useless phone number on which to contact him at their final meeting, and had also ignored her letter asking for his help. No, perhaps it would be wiser not to forewarn Alexandros. An element of surprise might just give her the edge she badly needed; she was no longer naive enough to believe that she could easily hold her own with someone that clever and callous.
Katie left the twins with Leanne at a very early hour the next day.
‘Now, don’t you take any nonsense off this guy,’ her friend warned her anxiously. ‘He’s got more to lose than you have.’
‘How do you make that out?’ Katie lowered Toby and then Connor into the playpen already occupied by Leanne’s daughter, Sugar. As always, she was looking around herself and wishing she was in a position to afford similar accommodation. Although her friend’s home was tiny, the rainbow pastels she favoured made the rooms feel bright and welcoming even on a dull day. Helped by a family support network that Katie lacked, Leanne worked as a hairdresser. Her mother often looked after her grandchild in the evenings, and her ex-boyfriend paid maintenance.
‘I bet you anything he won’t want a scandal,’ Leanne declared. ‘According to what I’ve read, bankers are supposed to be a very conservative bunch…anything else makes the punters nervous!’
Conservative? That adjective danced around in the back of Katie’s mind when she was on the bus. On first acquaintance, Alexandros had struck her as conservative—indeed, icily reserved and austere. She hadn’t liked him, hadn’t liked being treated like a servant, and had hated the innate habit of command that was so much a part of his bred-in-the-bone arrogant assurance. But not one of those facts had snuffed out the wicked longing he had stirred up inside her. Her response to him had shocked her, and shattered all her neat, bloodless little assumptions about her own nature. His sizzling passion had shocked her even more. He had just grabbed her up and kissed her, and then carried her off to bed without hesitation or discussion. She cringed at that recollection, which she rarely let out of her memory-bank. She had acted like a slut and—not surprisingly, in her opinion—he had treated her like one.
CTK Bank was situated in the heart of the City of London, an impressive contemporary edifice with a logo hip enough to front a top fashion brand. She stared up at the light-reflecting gleam of ranks of windows, marvelling at the sheer size and splendour of the office block. Anger flared through her nervous tension, making her restless. Alexandros Christakis was, she finally appreciated, a very wealthy and powerful man. She positioned herself at the corner of the building so that she could watch both the front and the side entrances. Employees were starting to arrive. Rain came on steadily, quickly penetrating the light jacket she wore and drenching her. With her head bent to avoid the downpour, she almost missed the big car purring to a discreet halt in the quiet side street.
Straightening with a jerk, she began to walk very fast towards the limo—if the VIP passenger was Alexandros she didn’t want to miss him. Two other cars had also pulled up—one to the front of the luxury vehicle, the second to the rear. Several men emerged and fanned out across the street. Katie’s scrutiny, however, was glued to the tall dark male descending from the limousine. The breeze ruffled his luxuriant ebony hair. Without warning, a painful sense of familiarity, sharp as a knife-blade, pierced Katie. She would have known him anywhere just by the angle of his imperious head and the economic grace with which he moved. The chill of sudden shocked recognition engulfed her. Her attention locked to his lean, powerful face, marking the straight slash of his black brows, the dark, deep-set allure of his brilliant gaze. Her tummy flipped and she was dazzled.
‘Alexandros…’ She tried to speak but her voice failed her. Because even though he could not have heard her, for she was still too far away, he did seem to be looking her way.
Alexandros had picked up on the alert stance of his security team and zeroed in on the source. But the instant he saw the small slender figure approaching him he knew her, and he was so surprised he stopped dead in his tracks. The wet gleam of her wine-red hair and her pale heart-shaped face struck a haunting chord that plunged him into an instant flashback. He remembered sunshine streaming through a rain-washed window over that amazing hair, lighting up eyes of an almost iridescent green. It had been a stark moment of truth in an interlude that he was reluctant to recall. One of his bodyguards blocked her path with practised ease, just as a posse of paparazzi came charging down the street behind her, waving cameras.
‘Inside, boss,’ Cyrus, his head of security urged as Alexandros hesitated. ‘Paparazzi and a homeless kid…could be a set-up!’
In one long stride, Alexandros mounted the steps and vanished into the building. A set-up? A homeless kid? Cyrus could only have been referring to Katie. Why was she still dressing like a scruffy student? And why had she come to see him? He could not believe that her sudden appearance after so long would be a coincidence. What did she want from him? Why would she try to approach him in a public place? Had the paparazzi been waiting and watching to see if he acknowledged her, ready to spring some kind of a trap in which he was the target? Hard suspicion flaring in his shrewd gaze, he told Cyrus to watch Katie’s every move.
It took a lot to surprise Cyrus, but that instruction achieved it.
‘The female you assumed was a homeless kid? Her name is Katie Fletcher. Don’t let your team lose her!’ Alexandros warned in rapid Greek. ‘Follow her. I want to know where she lives.’
As his efficient security chief hurried back outside to carry out his orders, Alexandros switched back into working mode. Stepping into the executive lift held in readiness for him, he was immediately immersed in a quote of the latest share prices and the final adjustments to the press release to be made about the merger. When another memory tried to surface from his usually disciplined subconscious, he rooted it out with ruthless exactitude. He was not introspective. He did not relive past mistakes. In fact he had long since accepted that on the emotional front he was as cold as his reputation.
At the end of his first meeting he discovered that he had printed a K and encircled it, and the knowledge of that brief loss of concentration, that subliminal weakness that had defied his control, infuriated him.
Taken aback by the blocking technique of the security man, who had got in her way, and then rudely crowded off the pavement by the heaving, shouting and disgruntled members of the press, who had surged past her in an effort to get at Alexandros, Katie was momentarily at a loss. Alexandros had seen her. But had he recognised her? Had he sent that beefy security guy to ward her off? Would he have spoken to her if the journalists had not been present?
She thought not. He hadn’t smiled, hadn’t shown the smallest sign that a friendly welcome might be in the offing. He was such a bastard, she thought painfully, a horrible sense of failure seeping through her. But even as her shoulders drooped, a defiant spirit of rebellion was powering her up again. She marched back round the corner and through the front doors of the bank, and right up to the reception desk.
‘I’d like to speak to Mr Christakis,’ she announced.
The receptionist who came to attend to her studied Katie fixedly, as if trying to decide whether or not she was pulling her leg. In that intervening moment of assessment Katie became uncomfortably aware of her sodden hair and shabby jacket and jeans.
‘I’ll take your name.’ The elegant young woman behind the desk switched on her professional cool. ‘But I should warn you that Mr Christakis is exceptionally busy and his appointments are usually booked months in advance. Perhaps you could see someone else?’
‘I want to see Alexandros. Someone else won’t do. Please just see that he gets my name. He knows me.’ Aware of the silent disbelief which greeted that declaration, Katie retreated with as much dignity as she could manage to a seat. She watched the receptionist commune with her two colleagues. Someone stifled a giggle, and her anxious face burned as she affected an interest she did not feel in the heavy-duty financial publications laid out for perusal on a coffee table. She was getting paranoid, she scolded herself. In all probability nobody was talking about her—just as the most likely explanation for what had happened outside was that Alexandros simply hadn’t recognised her.
She lifted an uncertain hand to her wet hair and suddenly reached round to undo her ponytail. She dug a comb out of her bag and surreptitiously began to tease out the limp damp curls, praying for her natural ringlets to emerge, rather than the pure frizz that had made her scrape her hair back so tightly when she was a teenager that her eyes had used to water. She wondered why she was bothering. He wouldn’t agree to see her.
While she sat there she finally registered a fact that should have occurred to her sooner. She had got his name totally wrong. Had Alexandros ever even received her letter telling him that she was pregnant? She had sent one to his Irish residence, and when there had been no answer she had sent a second one care of the rental company that had leased the house to him. But would a letter with the wrong name on it have been forwarded? What if Alexandros hadn’t got either?
‘Miss Fletcher?’ the receptionist murmured.
Katie stood up hurriedly. ‘Yes?’
‘I have a call for you.’
Surprise marking her delicate triangular features, Katie accepted the cordless phone extended to her.
‘Katie?’
It was Alexandros, and she was so taken aback by the sound of that dark melodic drawl of his that she almost dropped the phone. ‘Alexandros?’
‘I’m waiting for a fix on a satellite link and I’m afraid that I only have a few minutes. You’ve picked a bad day to call…’
‘The merger,’ she filled in, the receiver crammed tight to her ear as she wandered away in a preoccupied daze. His voice had an aching familiarity that tugged cruelly at her heartstrings and threatened to take her back in time. ‘But that’s why I came. I knew you’d be here, and I have to see you.’
‘Why?’ Alexandros enquired with the most studious casualness. Everything she had so far said was setting off warning bells of caution. ‘Do you need some sort of help? Is that why you asked to see me?’
‘Yes…but it’s not something I can discuss on the phone or without privacy,’ Katie told him tautly. ‘Just out of interest…er…did you ever receive a letter from me?’
‘No.’
‘Oh…’ Katie was stumped by that unhesitating negative, for if he didn’t even know that she had been pregnant he was in for a huge shock.
‘Why can’t you just tell me in brief what this is about?’ Alexandros enquired drily.
‘Because I have to see you to talk about it,’ she reminded him, feeling under unfair pressure and not knowing how to deal with it in the circumstances.
‘That may not be possible—’
Katie lowered her voice to say, almost pleadingly, ‘I wouldn’t have come here if I wasn’t desperate—’
‘Then cut to the chase,’ he cut in with cold clarity. ‘I’m not into mysteries.’
A surge of angry tears burned the back of Katie’s eyes. ‘Okay, so you won’t see me,’ she gasped. ‘But don’t say I didn’t give you the chance!’
With that ringing declaration, Katie cut the connection and marched back to the desk to return the phone. Before she could even set it down it started ringing again, and as she walked away the receptionist called her name a second time. She spun round. The handset was being offered to her. She shook her head in urgent refusal. She was uneasily conscious that quite a few people seemed to be staring in her direction, particularly a thin fair man with sharp eyes that made her colour. Without further ado she turned on her heel and headed hurriedly out of the bank.
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