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Exotic Nights
The Virgin’s Secret
Abby Green
The Devil’s Heart
Lynn Raye Harris
Pleasured in the Playboy’s Penthouse
Natalie Anderson
The Virgin’s Secret
Abby Green
About the Author
ABBY GREEN got hooked on Mills & Boon® romances while still in her teens, when she stumbled across one belonging to her grandmother in the west of Ireland. After many years of reading them voraciously, she sat down one day and gave it a go herself. Happily, after a few failed attempts, Mills & Boon bought her first manuscript.
Abby works freelance in the film and TV industry, but thankfully the four a.m. starts and the stresses of dealing with recalcitrant actors are becoming more and more infrequent, leaving her more time to write!
She loves to hear from readers and you can contact her through her website at www.abby-green.com. She lives and works in Dublin.
This is for my lovely editor, Meg, who shines a torchlight into the dark corners where I’ve tied myself into knots and helps me unravel it all again into something coherent. Thanks for everything—you’re a star.
I’d also like to dedicate this book with special thanks to Anne Mary Luttrell, whose waiting room is a magical place where many a plot has been incubated.
Thanks for your healing hands (needles) and words.
PROLOGUE
LEONIDAS PARNASSUS looked out of the window of his private plane. They’d just landed at Athens airport. To his utter consternation his chest felt tight and constricted—a sensation he didn’t welcome. He was curiously reluctant to move from his seat, even though the cabin staff were preparing to open the door, even though sitting still and not moving was anathema to him. He told himself it was because he was still chafing at the reality that he’d acquiesced to his father’s demand that he come to Athens for ‘talks’.
Leo Parnassus did not carve out time for anything or anyone he deemed a waste of his resources and energy. Not a business venture, a lover, nor a father who had put building up the family fortune and clearing their shamed name before a relationship with his son. Leo grimaced slightly, his face so harsh that the steward who had been approaching him stopped abruptly and hovered uncertainly. Leo saw nothing though but the heat haze on the tarmac outside and the darkness of his own thoughts.
He was Greek through and through, and yet he’d never set foot on Greek soil. His family had been exiled from their ancestral home before he was born, but his father had returned triumphantly just a few years ago; finally realising a lifelong dream to clear their name of a terrible crime and to glory in their new-found status and inestimable wealth.
Bitter anger rose when Leo remembered his beloved ya ya’s lined and worn face. The sadness that had grooved deep lines around her mouth and shadowed her eyes. It had been too late for her to return home. She’d died in an alien country she’d never grown to love. Even though his grandmother had urged him to return as soon as he’d had the chance, he’d condemned Athens on her behalf for breaking her heart. He’d always sworn that he wouldn’t return to the place that had spurned his family so easily.
Athens was still home to the Kassianides family who had been responsible for all that pain and sadness, and who were suffering far too belatedly and minutely for what they had done. They had cast a long shadow over his childhood which had been indelibly marked by their actions, in so many ways.
And yet, despite all that … here he was. Because something in his father’s voice, an unmistakable weakness had called to him, in spite of everything that had happened. It had touched him on some level. In short, he’d felt compelled to come. Perhaps he wanted to prove to himself that he was not at the mercy of his emotions?
The very thought of that made him go cold; at the tender age of eight he’d made an inarticulate vow never to let any intensity of emotion overwhelm him, because that’s what had killed his mother. Surely he could handle looking his ancestral home in the face and turn his back on it once and for all? Of course he could.
But first he had to deal with the fact that his father wanted him to take over the Parnassus shipping business. Leo had denied his inheritance a long time ago; he’d embraced the entrepreneurial American spirit, and now ran a diverse subsidiary business that encompassed finance, acquisitions, and real estate, recently snapping up an entire block of buildings in New York’s Lower East Side for redevelopment.
His sole input to his father’s business had been a couple of years before when they’d tightened the noose of revenge around the neck of Tito Kassianides, the last remaining patriarch of the Kassianides family. It was the one thing that had joined father and son: a united desire to seek vengeance.
Leo had taken singular pleasure in making sure that the Kassianides’ demise was ensured, thanks to a huge merger his father had orchestrated with Aristotle Levakis, one of Greece’s titans of industry. That victory now, though, when he was faced with the reality of touching down in Greece, felt curiously empty. He couldn’t help but think of his grandmother, how much she’d longed for this moment and never got a chance to see it.
A discreet cough sounded, ‘I’m sorry, sir?’
Leo looked up, intensely irritated to have been observed in a private moment. He saw the steward was gesturing to the now open cabin door. Leo’s chest clenched tightly again, and he had the childishly bizarre urge to tell them to slam the door shut and take off, back to New York. It was almost as if something outside that door lay in wait for him. Such a mix of emotions was rising to the surface, and it was so unwelcome that he stood up jerkily from his seat as if he could shake them off.
He walked to the cabin door, very aware of the eyes of his staff on him. Normally it didn’t bother him, he was used to people looking at him for his reaction, but now it scraped over his skin like sandpaper.
The heat hit him first, dry and searing. Strangely familiar. He breathed in the Athens air for the first time in his life and felt his heart hit hard with the intensifying of that absurd feeling of familiarity. He’d always felt that coming here would feel like betraying his grandmother’s memory, but now it was as if she was behind him, gently pushing him forward. For a man who lived by cool logic and intellect, it was an alien and deeply disturbing sensation.
He concealed his eyes behind dark shades as an ominous prickling skated over his skin. He had the very unwelcome sensation that everything in his life was about to change.
At the same moment on the other side of Athens.
‘Delphi, just take a deep breath and tell me what’s wrong—I can’t help you until I know what it is.’
That just provoked more weeping. Angel grabbed another tissue, a trickle of unease going down her spine now. Her younger half-sister said brokenly, ‘I don’t do this kind of thing, Angel, I’m a law student!’
Angel smoothed her pretty sister’s fall of mahogany hair behind one ear and said soothingly, ‘I know, sweetie. Look, it can’t be that bad, whatever it is, so just tell me and then we can deal with it.’
Angel was absolutely confident when she said this. Delphi was introverted, too quiet. She always had been, and even more so since a tragic accident had killed her twin sister about six years ago. Ever since then she’d buried herself in books and studies, so when she said quietly, after a little sniffly hiccup, ‘I’m pregnant …’ the words simply didn’t register in Angel’s head.
They didn’t register until Delphi spoke again, with a catch in her voice.
‘Angel—did you hear me? I’m pregnant. That’s what … that’s what’s wrong.’
Angel’s hands tightened reflexively around her half-sister’s and she looked into her dark brown eyes—so different from her own light blue ones, even though they both shared the same father.
Angel tried not to let the shock suck her under. ‘Delph, how did it happen?’ She grimaced. ‘I mean, I know how … but …’
Her sister looked down guiltily, a flush staining her cheeks red. ‘Well … you know Stavros and I have been getting more serious …’ Delphi looked up again, and Angel’s heart melted at the turmoil she saw on her sister’s face.
‘We both wanted to, Angel. We felt the time was right and we wanted it to be with someone we loved …’
Angel’s heart constricted. That was exactly what she had wanted too, right up until— Her sister continued, cutting through Angel’s painful memory.
‘And we were careful, we used protection, but it …’ She blushed again, obviously mortified to have to be talking about this at all. ‘It split. We decided to wait until we knew there was something to worry about … and now there is.’
‘Does Stavros know?’
Delphi nodded miserably and looked sheepish. ‘I never told you this, but on my birthday last month Stavros asked me to marry him.’
Angel wasn’t that surprised; she’d suspected something like this might happen with the two of them. They’d been sweethearts for ever. ‘Has he spoken to his parents?’
Delphi nodded, but fresh tears welled. ‘His father has told him that if we marry he’ll be disinherited. You know they’ve never liked us …’
Angel winced inwardly for her sister. Stavros came from one of the oldest and most established families in Greece, and his parents were inveterate snobs. But before she could say anything Delphi was continuing in a choked voice.
‘… and now it’s worse, because the Parnassus family are home, and everyone knows what happened, and with Father going bankrupt …’ she trailed off miserably.
A familiar feeling of shame gripped Angel at the mention of that name: Parnassus. Many years before, her family had committed a terrible crime against the much poorer Parnassus family, falsely accusing them of a horrific murder. It was only recently that they had atoned for that transgression. When her great-uncle Costas, who had actually committed the crime, had confessed all in a suicide note, the Parnassus family, who were now phenomenally successful and wealthy, had seen their chance for revenge, and had returned to Athens from America on a wave of glory. The consequent scandal and shake-up in power meant that her father, Tito Kassianides, had started haemorrhaging business and money, to the point that they now faced certain bankruptcy. Parnassus had made certain that everyone now knew how the Kassianides family had wilfully abused their power in the most heinous way.
‘Stavros wants us to elope—’
Angel’s focus came back, and she immediately went to interject, but Delphi put up a hand, her pale face streaked with tears. ‘But I won’t allow him to do that.’
Angel shut her mouth again.
‘I won’t be responsible for him being cut off and disinherited—not when I know how important it is to him that he gets into politics some day. This could ruin all his chances.’
Angel marvelled at her sweet sister’s selflessness. She took her hands again and said gently, ‘And what about you, Delph? You deserve some happiness too, and you deserve a father for your baby.’
A door slammed downstairs and they both flinched minutely.
‘He’s home …’ Delphi breathed, a mixture of fear and loathing in her voice as the inarticulate roars of their father’s drunken rage drifted up the stairs. More tears welled in her red-rimmed eyes, and suddenly Angel was extremely aware of the fact that her baby sister was now pregnant and needed at all costs to be protected from the potential pain of dealing with any scandal or losing Stavros. She took her gently by the shoulders and forced her to look into her eyes.
‘Sweetheart, you did the right thing telling me. Just act as if everything is normal and we’ll work something out. It’ll be fine—’
Delphi’s voice took on a hysterical edge. ‘But Father is getting more and more out of control, and mother is unravelling at the seams—’
‘Shh. Look, haven’t I always been there for you?’
Angel winced inwardly. She hadn’t been there when Delphi had needed her most, after Damia, her twin’s death, and that was why she’d made the promise to stay at home until Delphi gained her own independence, her twin’s death having affected her profoundly. Now her sister just nodded tearily, biting her lip, and looked at Angel with such nakedly trusting eyes that Angel had to batten down the almost overwhelming feeling of panic. She caught a lone tear falling down Delphi’s face and wiped it away gently with a thumb.
‘You’ve got exams coming up in a few months, and enough to be thinking about now. Just leave everything to me.’
Her sister flung skinny arms around Angel’s neck, hugging her tight. Angel hugged her back, emotion coursing through her to think that in a few months her sister’s belly would be swollen with a baby. She had to make sure she and Stavros got married. Delphi wasn’t hardy and cocky, as her twin had been. Where one had been effervescent and exuberant, the other had always been the more quiet foil. And as for their father—if he found out—
Delphi pulled back and spoke Angel’s thoughts out loud. ‘What if Father—?’
Angel cut her off. ‘He won’t. I promise. Now, why don’t you go to bed and get some sleep? And don’t worry, I’ll handle it.’
CHAPTER ONE
I’LL handle it. Those fatalistic words still reverberated in Angel’s head a week later. She’d gone to speak with Stavros’ father herself, to try and remonstrate with him, but he hadn’t even deigned to see her. It couldn’t have been made clearer that they were social outcasts.
‘Kassianides!’
Abruptly Angel was pulled out of her spiralling black thoughts when her boss called her name. It must have been the second or third time, judging by the impatience on his face.
‘When you can join us back on earth, go down to the pool and make sure it’s completely clear and that the tea lights are set out on the tables.’
She stuttered an apology and fled. In all honesty Angel’s preoccupation had been distracting her from something much more panic-inducing and stressful. Almost too stressful to contemplate.
She was here at the Parnassus villa, high in the hills of Athens, to waitress at a party that was being thrown for Leonidas Parnassus, the son of Georgios Parnassus. Everyone was buzzing about the fact that he might be about to take over the family business and what a coup it would be, Leo Parnassus having become a multimillionaire entrepreneur in his own right.
It hit her again as she hurried down the steps that were expertly overgrown with extravagantly flowering bougainvillea. She was in the Parnassus villa, the home of the family who hated hers with a passion.
For a second she stopped in her tracks, a hand going to her breast as an intense pain tightened in her chest. This was the absolute worst place she could be in the world. For a second she felt hysteria rising at the irony of it. She, Angel Kassianides, was about to serve drinks to the crème de la crème of Athens, right under the Parnassuses nose. The thought of what her father would do if he could see her now made her break out in a cold sweat.
She bit her lip and forced herself to go on, breathing a sigh of relief when she had a quick look around the pool area and saw no one. The guests hadn’t started to arrive yet and, though there were some staying at the villa, Angel knew that they’d be getting ready. There was no reason for anyone to be by the pool, but still … an uneasy prickling skated over her skin.
She hadn’t been able to avoid coming here tonight. She and her waiter colleagues had been halfway to their secret destination in a packed minibus before it had been revealed, for ‘security reasons’. Angel knew well that if she’d bailed out of this evening her boss would have sacked her on the spot. He’d sacked people for less in his prestigious catering company. She couldn’t afford for that to happen—not when her income was the only thing helping put her sister through college and keeping food on their table.
She tried to reassure herself: her boss was English, recently moved to Athens with his English/Greek wife. He knew nothing of the significance of who Angel was, nor her scandalous connection to the Parnassus family. She busied herself placing out the tea lights in their antique silver holders in the middle of the white damask-covered tables, and sent up fervent thanks that, tonight of all nights, not one of the other staff were local. Things were so busy at the moment that her boss had had to call in their part-time workers, and they were all either foreign or from outside Athens.
Her only fear now was that someone at the party might recognise her. But, knowing these people as she did, she’d no doubt that in her uniform of black skirt and white shirt they’d not take a second look at her. She worried her lip again. Perhaps she could just stay in the kitchen and get the trays together and avoid—
Angel started suddenly when she heard the splash of water coming from nearby. Someone was in the pool. Carefully she placed the last candle down and made to slip away, back up to the kitchen. As if she’d been subliminally aware of it but had blocked it out, she realised that someone must have been in the pool all along—but not swimming, so she hadn’t noticed them.
The sky was a dusky violet colour, so perhaps that was also why she hadn’t—Angel glanced quickly to her right as a flash of movement caught her eye, and her legs stopped functioning when the sight before her registered on her retina and in her brain.
An olive-skinned Greek god was hauling himself in one powerfully sleek move out of the water, droplets of water cascading off taut muscles. Everything seemed to go into slow motion as the sheer height and breadth of him was revealed. Angel shook her head stupidly, but it felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton wool. Greek gods didn’t exist. This was a man, a flesh-and-blood man. And the minute she registered that she was standing transfixed, staring at him, she panicked.
But her body wouldn’t obey her order to move, or it would, but her limbs all moved in independent directions, and to her utter horror she found herself backing into a poolside chair and almost toppling over it. And she would have, if the man hadn’t moved like lightning and grabbed her, so that instead of falling back she fell forward into his chest, with his hands around her upper arms.
For a long moment Angel tried to tell herself that this wasn’t happening. That she wasn’t breathing in an intoxicating mix of spice and earthiness. That she wasn’t all but plastered against a bare, wet chest which felt as hard as steel, her lips just a breath away from pressing against skin covered in a light dusting of intensely masculine hair.
Angel tried to break away, and pulled back, forcing his hands to drop. Heat scorched upwards over her cheeks as she finally stood upright again and found her eyes level with hard, flat brown nipples. She looked up, swallowing, and her gaze skittered up and past broad shoulders to his face.
‘I’m so sorry. I just … got startled. The light … I didn’t see …’
The man quirked an ebony brow. Angel swallowed again. Lord, but his face was as beautiful as the rest of him. Not beautiful, she amended, that was too girly a word. He was devastating. Thick black hair lay sleek against his head, and high cheekbones offset an impossibly hard jaw. His mouth was forbidding, but held a promise of sensuality that resonated deep in her body.
Suddenly that mouth stopped being forbidding and quirked. She nearly had to put out a hand again to steady herself. A thin scar ran from his upper lip to his nose, making her fight the absurd urge to reach up and trace it. Making her wonder how he’d got it—this complete stranger!
‘Are you okay?’
Angel nodded vaguely. He sounded American; perhaps he was a business colleague, a guest who was staying over. Although somehow, in her muddled brain, that didn’t fit either. He was someone. She struggled to remember where she was, what she was here to do. Who she was.
She nodded. ‘I’m … I’m fine.’
He frowned slightly, seemingly completely at ease with his lack of dress. ‘You’re not Greek?’
Angel alternately shook and nodded her head. ‘I am Greek. But I’m also half-Irish. I spent a lot of time in boarding school there … so my accent is more neutral.’ She clamped her mouth shut. What was she blathering on about?
The man frowned a little deeper, his glance up and down taking in her uniform. ‘And yet you’re waitressing here?’
The incredulity in his tone made Angel’s sanity rush back. Only girls from privileged backgrounds in Greece went abroad for schooling. Immediately she felt vulnerable. She was meant to be fading into the background, not engaging in conversation with the guests of the hosts.
She backed away, looking somewhere in the region of his shoulder. ‘Please excuse me. I have to get back to work.’
She was about to turn when she heard him drawl laconically, ‘You might want to dry off before you start handing out champagne.’
Angel followed his gaze down to where it rested on her chest. On her breasts. She gasped when she saw that she was indeed drenched, her shirt opaque and her plain white bra clearly visible, along with two very pointedly hard nipples. How long had she been plastered against him like some mindless groupie?
With a strangled gasp of mortification Angel scrambled backwards, nearly tripping over a chair again and only just righting it and herself before there could be a repeat rescue performance. All she heard as she fled back up the steps was a mocking, deep-throated chuckle.
A little later, Leonidas Parnassus looked around the thronged salon and tried to stifle his irritation when he couldn’t see the waitress. It had made him uncomfortable, how urgent his need to see her again had been as soon as he’d walked into the main reception room. It had also made him uncomfortable how vividly her image had come back to him in his recent shower, forcing him to turn the temperature to cold.
And now her image surged back again, mocking his attempts to thrust it aside. He recalled how she’d looked, with a dark flush on her cheeks, those intensely light blue eyes wide and ringed with thick black lashes, staring at him like a startled fawn. As if she’d never seen a man before.
She had a tiny beauty spot just on the edge of a full lower lip, and he grimaced when he felt the effect remembering that had on his lower body. He hated having such an arbitrary response. But when he’d seen her arrive by the pool and do her work, with quick, economic movements, her glossy light brown hair pulled into a high topknot, something about her had stirred him. Something about her intense preoccupation, for patently she hadn’t noticed him in the pool. And Leo was not a man who was used to going unnoticed.
When he’d caught her against him in that completely instinctive move tendrils of her hair had come free and framed her face and the defined line of her jaw, making him want to slip his hand into the glossy strands and cause it to fall down around her shoulders. He could almost feel it over his hands now, the heavy silky weight.
Irritation spiked again. Where was she? Had she been a figment of his imagination? His father approached then, with a colleague, and Leo forced a benign smile to his mouth, hating the fact that he was in thrall to a nameless waitress.
Distracting him momentarily was the reality he now faced of just how frail his father had become, even since he’d seen him last. As if something within him had shifted subtly but profoundly. He felt a deep-seated sense of inevitability steal over him, he was needed here, his own empire notwithstanding. But was his place really here? He tried out the word now: home. His heart beat fast.
He thought of his sterile, yet state-of-the-art penthouse apartment in New York; the steel and silver skyscrapers of the world he inhabited. He thought of his impeccably groomed and very experienced blonde mistress; he thought of what it might be like to walk away from all of that—and he felt … nothing.
Athens, being here for the past week, had confounded his every expectation. He’d thought he’d feel nothing. On the contrary, he felt as though he’d been plugged into something deeply primal within his soul. Something had been brought to life, and wouldn’t be pushed back to some dim and distant recess.
Just then, as if to compound this feeling, he caught sight of something in the far corner of the room. Glossy hair piled high, a long neck. A familiar slim back. Leo’s heart started to thud, this time to a very different beat.
Angel was trying to keep her head down and not meet anyone’s eye. She’d done her best to stay in the kitchen, preparing the trays, but her boss had eventually sent her up to the main salon as she was his most experienced staff member.
At that moment she caught a pointed frowning look from Aristotle Levakis across the room—he was business partner to Parnassus, and her stomach quivered with renewed panic. This was a disaster in the making. Aristotle Levakis knew her, because their fathers had been friendly before Aristotle’s father had died. Angel could remember that Aristotle had been to one or two parties at her father’s house over the years.
In the act of offering some red wine to a small group of people, she had to keep going, but then she got accidentally jostled by another waiter. The tray tipped off balance, and with mounting horror Angel watched four glasses full of red wine disgorge their contents all over a beautiful woman’s pristine and very white designer dress.
For a second nothing happened. The woman was just looking down at her dress, aghast. And then it came, her voice so shrill that Angel winced. Conversely, at the same time, an awful silence seemed to descend.
‘You stupid, stupid girl—’
But then, just as suddenly, a huge dark shape appeared at Angel’s side, and she barely had time to take in a breath before she registered that it was the man from the pool. Her heart skipped a beat, before starting again erratically. He sent her a quick wink before taking the gasping woman aside to speak to her in low, hushed tones, and Angel saw her boss hurry forward to take the matter in hand.
Her boss and the woman were summarily dispatched, and then the man turned around to face Angel. Words dropped into her head but made no sense. He was so downright intimidating in an exquisite tuxedo that shock was rendering her speechless, breathless and motionless.
He calmly took the now empty tray from her hand and passed it to another waiter. The mess from the fallen drinks was already being cleared up. Angel would have protested that she should look after it, if she could have spoken.
Everyone else in the immediate vicinity seemed to melt away, and with a light, yet commanding touch from his hand on her arm Angel felt herself being manoeuvred across the room, until they’d walked through a set of open patio doors and out to the blessed quiet of the grand terrace.
The cool and fragrant evening air curled around Angel like a caress, but she felt hot, right down to her very core. Hot from embarrassment and hot from where this man’s big hand was curled around her upper arm. They came to a stop beside a low wall, beyond which a pristine lawn sloped gently downwards and off into the distance.
Silence surrounded them, thick and heavy, the muted sounds of the party coming from behind the closed patio doors. Had he closed the doors? The thought of him doing that to give them privacy made her shiver. She looked up, and with a disconcerting amount of effort pulled her arm free from his light, yet devastating grip. He smiled down at her, putting his hands in his pockets, and he looked so rakishly handsome that Angel felt weak all over again. Hair that had been slicked back with water was now thick and glossy, a little over-long.
‘So … we meet again.’
Angel forced her brain to retain a small sliver of sanity, but no matter how much she wanted it to, she feared her voice wouldn’t come out as cool as she hoped for. ‘I’m sorry … you must think me an awful klutz. I’m not normally so clumsy. Thank you for …’ She gestured to the room, thinking of the red stain spreading over the woman’s white dress again and feeling sick. ‘For defusing the situation, but I don’t think my boss will forgive me for it. That dress looked like it was worth about a year’s worth of my wages.’
He took a hand out of his pocket and waved it nonchalantly. ‘Consider it taken care of. I saw what happened, it was an accident.’
Angel gasped. ‘I can’t let you do a thing like that. I don’t even know you.’ His insouciance and casual display of wealth made something cold lodge in her chest. It was a rejection from deep within her of this whole social scene. She’d grown up with it and it reminded her too much of the darkness in her own family.
His eyes glinted with something dangerous. ‘On the contrary, I’d say that we’re well on the way to becoming … acquainted.’
An electric current seemed to spring into action in that moment. The man moved closer to Angel, closing the small distance between them, and the breath lodged in her throat. She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His eyes held hers, and for the second time that day she noted the way they seemed to burn with a golden light.
He lifted a hand and trailed his finger down one cheek to the delicate line of her jaw. It left a line of tingling fire in its wake.
