The Greek Tycoon's Mistress. Julia JamesЧитать онлайн книгу.
he’d walked out.
Theo turned back towards Milo.
‘You are so sure of this marriage?’ he heard himself ask.
Milo flashed him a dark look from eyes which, though wrinkled, were still keen and sharp.
‘Demos needs a good marriage. Sofia Allessandros is just the girl for him.’
Theo paused. ‘I know,’ he said carefully, ‘that you are in a hurry. But can’t you give him more time? It’s his life, Milo.’
The dark, shrewd eyes stared at him.
‘I’m worried about him,’ he said. ‘I want to see him safe with Sofia Allessandros.’
There seemed to be meaning in his words. Theo frowned.
‘This woman of his? A pillow-friend, nothing more. He won’t marry her, if that’s what’s worrying you!’
The dark eyes snapped and Milo’s mouth thinned.
‘Young men are foolish!’ He fixed Theo with a piercing, uncomfortable look. ‘You would have made such a foolish marriage…’
The accusation hung in the air. For a moment Theo stilled. Then, with a deliberate shrug of his powerful shoulders, he said, ‘Well, you and my father soon sorted that out, didn’t you? And that other “minor complication” it involved!’
The accusation had been returned, and Milo felt it. His eyes snapped again. ‘Don’t take that tone! We did what was necessary. A woman like that—you should be grateful!’
Theo stilled again. ‘Grateful.’ The word fell heavily from his lips.
A harsh, impatient rasp sounded in the old man’s throat.
‘Money showed her true colours! It always does with women of her stamp!’
He shifted restlessly in the chair he was sitting in. Pain flickered briefly in his face. Theo saw it. Pity filled him. The past was gone—his grandfather and his father had done what they had thought best, by their lights. And they had been right, he knew. Money did show true colours. And he was grateful, just as Milo said he should be. Grateful to have had his illusions shattered.
Illusions were always dangerous. In business, and in bed.
Theo had no illusions any more. Never again. He knew what he wanted from women now. It was simple, pleasurable—and painless. As for taking a wife—no. No matter how much Milo pressurised him to continue the family name, he knew he would never trust a woman with his happiness again.
‘Sofia will make Demos a good wife. You know that.’
Milo’s voice brought him back to the problem in hand.
Yes, Sofia Allessandros would make Demos a good wife. She had been groomed from childhood to be the perfect wife for a rich man. And, like every well brought up Greek girl, she was as untouched as the morning dew.
Theo’s brow darkened briefly. The image of Demos’s lovely young pillow-friend slid into his mind, lush and enticing. Tempting men from their duties, their responsibilities—their families.
As if reading his thoughts, Milo spoke again.
‘Demos won’t look twice at Sofia while he’s got a mistress to warm his bed.’
The grim look returned to Theo’s face. Leandra’s lush body swayed in his vision.
‘That one would warm any man’s bed!’
His grandfather’s eyes narrowed. ‘Yours, Theo?’
Theo gave a rasp of denial. But Milo hadn’t built a business empire from scratch without being able to read men’s thoughts. He gave a sudden rough laugh.
‘Well, that would be one way of removing the obstacle!’
Theo’s mouth set in a thin line.
‘I was thinking of something a little more basic.’
His grandfather gave that rough laugh again. In his time, Milo Atrides had kept mistresses by the score.
‘Nothing is more basic than sex,’ he said bluntly.
‘Except money,’ corrected his grandson. He looked straight at Milo. ‘That method never fails. You, of all people, should know that.’
If his grandfather heard the bitterness in his grandson’s voice, he ignored it. He had done what he had had to do. The woman had been a danger to his family. As this one now was.
‘Yes,’ he agreed, relaxing back in his chair. ‘Money’s a good method.’
Theo nodded.
‘I’ll take care of it. She’ll be out of his bed in a week!’
Leandra frowned in concentration. ‘Can you just give me my cue again please, Demos?’
‘Of course.’
He smiled obligingly, but Leandra could see that his eyes were troubled. The morning’s interview with his grandfather had been painful, she knew. She felt so sorry for him. In the weeks she’d spent at his apartment she’d grown to like this young man who came from such a totally different world. Their only link was Chris. Why did his family keep trying to arrange his life for him? It was bad enough his grandfather pressurising him to marry—now even his cousin was joining in!
His cousin was totally unlike Demos, she mused. With Demos she felt safe and comfortable. With Theo Atrides she’d never feel safe or comfortable. She gave an inward shiver.
Then, resolutely, she turned back to the page. Demos was kindness itself in agreeing to help her learn this fiendishly difficult part. It would bring neither fame nor fortune, but it was a privilege to have been chosen for it. The Marchester Festival, highly specialised though it was, had an excellent reputation. Besides, the effort of learning it helped to take her mind off Theo Atrides.
And she needed all the help she could get. He was haunting her. She couldn’t get him out of her mind. His hooded eyes were vivid in her brain, looking her over—setting her body on fire…
He intruded everywhere, even in her dreams. Which was ridiculous—she would never see him again. He’d go back to Athens with his grandfather, admit defeat over Demos, and that would be that.
He would admit defeat, wouldn’t he? After all, in the end there was nothing either Theo or his grandfather could do to force Demos to marry Sofia Allessandros. All Demos had to do was stand firm.
Would Sofia mind being rejected by the man she was expecting to marry? No one seemed too concerned about her wishes in all of this!
‘Demos,’ she heard herself asking, ‘are you sure Sofia won’t be upset that you won’t marry her? It sounds like she’s spent her whole life assuming you will.’
He looked away uncomfortably. ‘I can’t help it, Leandra. You know I can’t marry her. For me to do so would be to wrong her grievously.’
She bit her lip. Carefully, she said, ‘Can’t you tell her why? And your family?’
Demos’s face shuttered. ‘Do not ask that of me,’ he answered. There was anguish in his voice, and guilt—Leandra could not press him. He had burdens of his own to carry. One day he would be able to set them down, but not now, she knew. He was not ready.
Instead, she asked another question.
‘Demos, when is your grandfather likely to go back to Athens?’
The shadowed look in his eyes intensified.
‘I am not sure,’ he admitted. ‘Theo wants him to see a Harley Street specialist while he is in London.’
‘Oh. Then what would you like me to do? What would be best?’
‘If you would be kind enough to stay here I would be most grateful, Leandra.’ There was entreaty