The Virgin's Secret (3 page)

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 nonchal
antly. ‘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.

‘I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.'

The something cold that had lodged in Angel's chest melted. ‘You…haven't?'

He shook his head. ‘Or your mouth.'

‘My mouth…' Angel repeated stupidly. Her gaze dropped to
his
mouth then, and she saw once again the jagged line of the scar extending from his upper lip. She had the strongest desire to reach up and trace it with a finger, so strong that she shook.

‘Are you thinking about what it would feel like if my mouth was to touch yours right now?'

Angel's gaze flew up and clashed with pure molten golden
heat. An answering heat invaded her lower body. She felt the urge to clamp her legs together, as if that might calm the disturbing ache building up there.

Before she could answer, or articulate a response, his hand had cupped her jaw and cheek, and suddenly there was no distance between them, only him, so tall and close that he blocked out the sky, and his head was descending, coming nearer and nearer.

He smelt musky and
hot.
It was something so earthy that Angel could feel the response being tugged from down low in her belly, as if she recognised it on some primitive level. Dimly she wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about animal attraction.

Desperately trying to cling onto something,
anything
rational, Angel brought a hand up to cover his, to pull it down, to stop him, to say no… But then his mouth was so close that she could feel his breath feather there, mingling with hers. Her mouth tingled. She wanted…she wanted—

‘Sir?'

Angel wanted his mouth on hers so badly that she made a telling move closer–

‘Mr Parnassus…sir?'

Angel's eyes had been fluttering closed, but suddenly flew open again. Their mouths were just about touching. If Angel was to put out her tongue she'd be able to explore his lips, their shape and texture. And then the name that had just been uttered exploded into her consciousness properly.

Mr Parnassus.

Reality slammed back, and the cacophony of the party rushed out to meet them through open doors. Angel was barely aware of pulling his hand down and moving back. Shock was starting to spread through her entire body.
Someone else came out to the patio then. The butler who had been standing there—
for how long?
—melted away discreetly. The new arrival was the host's wife, Olympia Parnassus. Angel knew this because she'd given all the waiting staff a pep talk in the kitchen earlier.

‘Leo, darling, your father is looking for you, it's almost time for the speech.'

In a smooth move, Angel realised that she'd been effectively shielded from view. She felt more than heard the deep rumble of response.

‘Give me two minutes here, Olympia.'

His tone was implacable. Clearly he was someone used to giving commands and having them met. He was
Leonidas Parnassus.

Angel barely heard the older woman make some comment before she turned and clipped her way back into the party in her high heels, pulling the doors shut again. Shock was gathering force, and Angel started to react. She had to get out of here.

She knew that Leonidas Parnassus had turned back to face her, but she couldn't look at him. A warm hand tipped her chin up and she felt sick. She couldn't avoid his eyes unless she closed her own, and the thought of doing that made panic rise. He smiled a sexy smile.

‘Please forgive the interruption. I'll have to go in a minute, but…where were we?'

Angel had to get out of here right
now
. She'd just been about to kiss Leonidas Parnassus, the very man who must be gloating over her family's very public ruination. A sudden spurt of anger bloomed. They were in dire straits, and it was all because of
his
family and their lust for revenge. She thought of Delphi, who was so vulnerable now; she and her sister didn't deserve to be paying for something that had happened decades before.

Angel pulled down his hand and forced frost into her voice. ‘Look, I don't know what you're playing at. I have to get back to work. if my boss saw me out here with you I'd be sacked on the spot, which is obviously something that hasn't occurred to you.'

Leonidas Parnassus looked at her for a long moment before straightening to his full intimidating height and moving back a pace. Gone was the sexily teasing man of just moments before and in his place now stood the son and heir of a vast fortune. The man who was already a self-made millionaire. No wonder she'd had that feeling earlier that he
was someone
.

Arrogant confidence oozed from every pore, and Angel had to repress a shiver at the cold of his eyes—not tawny gold any more, but almost black, like flint.

‘Forgive me.' His voice was frigid. ‘I would never have attempted to kiss you if I'd known you found the prospect so repugnant.'

His demeanour made a mockery of his words. He was completely unrepentant. At that moment he reached out and cupped her jaw again. Her heart hammered against her ribs, she felt herself flushing.

Any pretence of remorse was gone, or charm. ‘Who do you think you're kidding, sweetheart? Don't ever fool yourself like that again. I know the signs of desire, and you're practically panting for me right now, just like you were by the pool.'

Angel ripped his hand down again, panic surging in earnest. If he had even an
inkling
of who she was… ‘Don't be ridiculous. I am not. I want you to get out of my way, please, so I can get back to work.'

‘I will,' he bit out. ‘But not before we've proved your words to be a lie.'

Before Angel could take a breath he'd cupped her face in both his hands, stepped right up to her body, and his mouth was crashing down onto her shocked open one with all the force of a huge wave. Her hands covered his in a hazy attempt to remove them, and she struggled against the onslaught, but it felt like going against the strongest current.

Her open mouth had provided an unwitting invitation to his, and his tongue stabbed deep and plundered, seeking hers, sucking it deep. To be kissed so intimately shook her to her core.

Her body had stiffened with the shock of his action, but a spreading, melting sensation was quickly taking over. The urge to fight was becoming more and more distant. All Angel could feel was the sinewy strength of those hands. They were so big that he was cradling her entire head, long fingers threading through her hair, massaging her scalp. And all the while his mouth and tongue were sucking her down into a deep spiral of the unknown.

When she stopped trying to pull his hands away she would never know. Nor would she be able to say when she moved her own hands and arms to wind their way up and over his shoulders.

She only knew that all reality had ceased to exist as they kissed and kissed with furious intensity. Their bodies were tight together and she pressed against the long, lean hardness of him. The thundering beating of their hearts was drowning out voices, concerns. She strained against him, on tiptoe to get even closer…could feel the unmistakable signs of his burgeoning arousal, and when she felt that her brain melted completely.

And then all of a sudden it was over, and he was stepping back from her. Angel made an awfully betraying move towards him, as if loath to let him go, her hands still out-
stretched from where they'd been wrapped like clinging vines around his shoulders. It was only then that she noticed her hands were held in his…. and the awful suspicion arose. Had he had to forcibly take them down? Mortification flooded Angel even as she tried to assess the situation, gather her scattered nerves. Her heart still hammered. She was mute. Dizzy.

Leonidas Parnassus just looked at her, his face flushed…with anger? Or satisfaction that he'd proved himself right? Angel's mortification rose to a new level.

A discreet cough came from close by, and then a voice.

‘Sir? If you could join your father inside now…
please
?'

Leonidas just looked at Angel, nothing given away on his face. It held a steely imperviousness that she would never have guessed the teasing man she'd met earlier to possess.

‘I'll be right in.' Leonidas pitched his voice to reach the hovering staff member, but his eyes never left hers. He seemed to be utterly in control, apart from that betraying colour in his cheeks. She felt as if she was unravelling at the seams.

‘I—' Angel began ineffectually.

He cut her off with an autocratic, ‘Wait for me here. I'm not done with you yet.'

And with that he turned on his heel, and Angel watched him stride powerfully back into the thronged room, raking a hand through his hair as he did so. His back was huge and broad in the black of his tuxedo.

She couldn't believe what had just happened.

In shock she put a finger to her mouth, where her lips felt plump and bruised. Thoroughly kissed. In a fresh rush of embarrassment and disgust Angel could remember wantonly arching her body even closer to his…almost as if she'd
wanted to climb into his skin. Not even in the most passionate moment of her relationship with Achilles had she felt that intensity of desire, every thought wiped clean from her mind. But then, she recalled bitterly, that had been part of the problem…

Angel felt raw and exposed, and painful memories were surging back, as if it wasn't awful enough to deal with what had just happened.

She heard a hush descend on the crowd in the salon, and searched for some means of escape. Finally, growing desperate, she spotted where some steps led down from the patio to the lower levels, and presumably back around to the kitchen. Hurrying down, she knew that she could forget about her job. The incident with the wine would have sealed her fate anyway; her disappearance with the guest of honour would have merely ensured it.

If her boss hadn't known the significance of who she was, he soon would, and she didn't want to be around to witness that.

Down in the kitchen she grabbed her things, and then crept out and headed down the drive, away from the glittering villa, not looking back once.

 

Leo stood and listened to his father's unashamedly emotional speech, Georgios Parnassus made no secret of the fact that he was ready to hand over the reins of power to Leo. The prospect of a shift in power had been evident in the room instantaneously. Again, Leo felt that welling of some ancient pride, that sense of right to be here. While he wasn't going to give the old man the satisfaction of capitulating so easily, he couldn't deny the sense of needing to stake his own claim to his birthright, the birthright that had been stolen from him.

His old man was no fool. No doubt he'd banked on exactly this by asking him to come to Greece, but Leo was not about to let him see that he might have won so soon.

Even while Leo was able to function and articulate his thoughts and intentions as the rapturous applause died away after his father's speech and the din of conversation rose again, his body still hummed with desire for the woman he'd left outside on the patio. He flicked a glance to the doors, once again open, but couldn't see her. Irritation prickled to think she might have moved. He'd told her to wait for him. He was trapped now, though, by the usual sycophants, all vying to get a slice of him.

He chafed to leave, to get back outside, finish what they'd started, and that irked him. Here he was at the potential forking of the road in his life, a huge moment, and all he could think about was a sexy waitress who'd had the temerity to blow hot and cold and then hot again. Anger gripped him, surprising him. He'd never encountered that before. He'd had women play hard to get in an effort to snag his interest and it never worked. He didn't indulge in games. The women in his life were experienced, mature…and knew the score. No emotional entanglement and no game-playing.