All That Glitters Read online

  "I didn't say I would forget you," she said, her throat becoming thick with anguish. "I said I'd never see you again, and I mean it. I believe very strongly in the marriage vows; I never looked at another man when I was married to Robert."

  He shoved a hand roughly through his hair, disturbing the tidy wave and making it fall down over his forehead. "And if I don't agree to these last two conditions?" he wanted to know. He was obviously angry, his jaw tight, his lips compressed to a grim line, but he was controlling it. His eyes were narrowed to piercing slits as he watched her.

  "Then I won't go with you," she replied softly. "I want your word that you'll abide by those conditions, Nikolas."

  "I can make you go with me," he threatened almost soundlessly, his lips scarcely moving. "With one word from me, you can be taken away from England without anyone knowing where you are or how you left. You can be secluded, forced to live as I say you will live."

  "Don't threaten me, Nikolas," she said, refusing to be frightened. "Yes, I know you can do all of those things, but you'll be defeating your own purpose if you ever resort to such tactics, for I won't be bullied. You do want a willing woman in your arms, don't you?"

  "You damned little witch," he breathed, pulling her to him across the seat with an iron grip on her wrist. "Very well, I agree to your conditions—if you think you have the willpower to enforce them. You can probably refuse any gifts from me without being bothered by it, but when it comes to leaving me—we'll see. You're in my blood, and I'm in yours, and my marriage to Elena won't diminish the need I have to sate myself with your soft body, my dear. Nor do I think you could leave me as easily as you've planned, for haven't you come back to me now? Haven't you just offered yourself to me?"

  "Only my body," she made clear. "You set those terms, Nikolas. You get only my body. The rest of me stays free."

  "You've already admitted that you love me," he said roughly. "Or was that just a ploy to try to trap me into marriage?"

  Despite the pain in her wrist where he held her so tightly, she managed a nonchalant shrug. "What do you know of love, Nikolas? Why talk about it? I'm willing to sleep with you; what more do you want?"

  Abruptly he tossed her wrist back into her lap. "Don't make me lose my temper," he warned. "I might hurt you, Jessica. I'm aching with the need to possess you, and my patience is thin. Until tonight, my dear, walk softly."

  From the look on his face, it was a warning to be taken seriously. She sat quietly beside him until the chauffeur stopped the limousine outside her house, then she allowed him to help her out. He leaned down and gave instructions to the chauffeur to pick up his luggage and return, then he and Jessica went up the walk. He took the key from her and unlocked the door, then opened it for her. "Can you be ready in an hour?" he asked, glancing at his watch. "Our flight leaves at noon."

  "Yes, of course, but don't I need a booking?"

  "You're taking Andros's seat," he replied. "Andros will be taking a later flight."

  "Oh, dear, now he certainly will be cross with me," she mocked as she crossed to the stairway.

  "He'll have to control his irritation," said Nikolas. "Go on; I'll arrange for Samantha and the pups."

  "Just Samantha," she corrected. "I gave the pups away while we were in Cornwall."

  "That should certainly make things easier," he said, grinning.

  Jessica went up to her room and pulled her suitcases out again. All of this packing was becoming monotonous. Carefully she folded clothing and essentials into her leather cases, matching her outfits with shoes and accessories. Nikolas sauntered in when she was only half-finished and stretched out on the bed as if he had every right to be there, surveying her through half-closed eyes.

  "You've lost weight," he said quietly. "I don't like it. What have you been doing to yourself?"

  "I've been on a diet," she replied flippantly.

  "Diet, hell!" He came off the bed and caught her arm, his other hand cupping her chin and turning her face up to his. Black eyes went sharply over her features, noting the shadows under her eyes, the defenseless quiver of her soft mouth. His hand quested boldly down her body, cupping her breasts and stroking her belly and hips. "You little fool!" he breathed sharply. "You're nothing but a shadow. You've nearly made yourself ill! Why haven't you been eating?"

  "I wasn't hungry," she explained. "It's nothing to act up about."

  "No? You're on the verge of collapse, Jessica." He put his arms about her and pulled her tightly to him, lowering his head to kiss her temples. "But I'll take care of you now and make certain that you eat enough. You'll need your strength, darling, for I'm a man with strong needs. If I were a gentleman, I would allow you a few days to regain your strength, but I'm afraid that I'm too selfish and too hungry for you to allow you that."

  "I wouldn't want you to," she whispered against his chest, her arms moving slowly about him, feeling with growing desire his strong, hard body pressing to her. She had missed him so badly! "I need you, too, Nikolas!"

  "I would take you now," he murmured, "but the car will be back soon and I really need more time than that to satisfy these weeks of frustration. But tonight—just wait until tonight!"

  For a long moment she simply rested her head on his broad chest; she was tired and depressed, and glad to have his strength to rest upon. Though she had made her decision, it was against her basic nature to go against the morals of a lifetime, and sadly she realized that her love for Nikolas had not diminished despite her bitter pride. She would have to come to terms with that, just as she had accepted that, while he wanted her physically, he did not love her and probably never would. Nikolas had planned his life and he was not a man to allow anyone to upset his plans.

  Only a few hours later, Jessica sat alone in the luxurious suite that Nikolas had reserved, staring about as if dazed. After their flight had landed at Orly, Nikolas had bundled her through customs at top speed and into a taxi; after a mad ride through the Paris traffic, he had deposited her in this hotel and left immediately for his meeting. She felt abandoned and desolate, and her nerves were beginning to quiver as feeling returned to them. For weeks she had been numbed, not feeling anything except the agony of rejection, but now, as she looked about her, she began to wonder just what she was doing here.

  Vaguely she studied her surroundings, noting how exactly the pale green carpet picked out the green threads in the blue-green brocade of the sofa she sat upon and the heavy swag of the curtains. A lovely suite…even the flowers were color-coordinated. A perfect setting for a seduction, when the lights were low and Nikolas turned his smoldering dark eyes on her.

  Her mind shied away from the image of Nikolas, not wanting to think of the coming hours. She had agreed to be his lover, but now that the time was here, she felt rebellious. She thought of what he would say if she refused to go through with it and decided that he would be furious. She pushed the idea away, but as the minutes ticked away, the thought returned again and again, stronger each time, until at last she got up and paced the room in agitation as pain crawled along her nerves.

  Had the pain of rejection unhinged her mind? Whatever had she been thinking of? She wouldn't be Nikolas Constantinos's mistress; she wouldn't be any man's mistress! Hadn't Robert instilled more self-respect into her than that? Nikolas didn't love her; he would never love her. His sole motivation was lust, and giving her virginity to him to prove her innocence would be her loss and mean nothing to him. Virginity wouldn't make him love her.

  She remembered the tales from her teenage years, tales of girls whose boyfriends pressured them to "prove their love." Then, in a few weeks, the boyfriends were running after some other girl. She had been too withdrawn herself to get into such a situation; she had never really even dated, but she had thought at the time that the girls were such fools. Anyone could see that the boys were just after sex, any way they could get it. Wasn't it the same situation now? Oh, Nikolas was a far cry from a fumbling teenage boy, but all he wanted was sex. He might pretty it up with word
s like "want" and "need," and call her darling now and then and tell her that he adored her, but basically it was the same urge.

  It was simply that she was a challenge to him, that was why he was so determined to make love to her. He couldn't accept defeat; he was far too fiery and arrogant. Everything about her challenged him, her coolness, her resistance to his lovemaking.

  She had been standing at the window, looking out at the twinkling Parisian lights as they blinked on in the darkness, for some time when Nikolas returned. She didn't turn as he entered the room and he said softly, "Jessica? What's wrong, darling?"

  "Nothing," she said flatly. "I'm just looking."

  She heard the muffled thud as he dropped his briefcase and then he came to stand behind her, his warm hands sliding over her arms and crossing in front of her, pulling her back against his body. His head bent and his lips bumed on the side of her neck. For a moment she went limp as a spark of desire arced across her nerve endings, then she twisted away from him in a rush of panic.

  He frowned at her and took a step toward her; as he did, she retreated, holding her hands out to ward him off.

  "Jessica?" he questioned, baffled.

  "Don't come near me!"

  "What do you mean?" he demanded, his brows snapping together. "What kind of game are you playing now?"

  "I—I've changed my mind," she blurted. "I can't do it, Nikolas. I'm sorry, but I just can't go through with it."

  "Oh, no, you don't!" he exploded, closing the distance between them with two long strides and catching her arm as she tried to whirl away from him. "Oh, no, you don't," he breathed savagely, jerking her to him. "No more waiting, no more putting me off. Now, Jessica. Now."

  She read his intent in his glittering black eyes as he bent down to lift her in his arms. Terror bloomed in her mind and she twisted madly in an effort to evade his lips, trying to throw herself out of his grasp. Tears poured out of her eyes and she began sobbing wildly, begging him not to touch her. Hysteria began to build in her as she realized she could not escape his brutal hold and her breath strangled in her chest.

  Suddenly he seemed to realize that she was terrified; startled, he put her on her feet and stared down into her twisted, bloodless face.

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  "All right," he said in a strained voice, backing away from her, his hands held up as if to show he was unarmed. "I won't touch you, I promise. See? I'll even sit down." He suited his actions to his words and stared at her, his black eyes somber. "But God in heaven, Jessica, why?"

  She stood there on trembling legs, trying to control her sobs and find her voice to explain, but no words would come and she only returned his gaze dumbly. With a groan he brought his hands up and rubbed his eyes as if he was tired, and he probably was. When he dropped his hands loosely onto his knees, his expression was grim and determined. "You win," he said tonelessly. "I don't know what your hang-up about sex is, but I accept that you're too frightened to come to me without some assurance about the future. Damn it, if marriage is what it takes to get you, then you'll have your marriage. We can be married on the island next week."

  Shock made her grope weakly for the nearest chair, and when she was safely sitting down, she said in a quavering voice, "No, you don't understand—"

  "I understand that you have your price," he muttered angrily. "And I've been pushed as far as I can be pushed, Jessica, so don't start an argument now. You will sleep with a husband, won't you? Or do you have another nasty little surprise saved up for me after you have the ring on your finger?"

  Anger saved her—clean, strength-giving anger spurting into her veins. It stiffened her spine and dried her tears. He was too arrogant and bullheaded to listen to her, and she was tempted for a minute to throw his offer back in his face, but her heart stopped her. Maybe he was proposing for all the wrong reasons, but it was still a proposal of marriage. And however angry he was now, at both her and himself, he would calm down and she would be able to tell him the truth. He would have to listen; she would make him. He was frustrated now and in no mood to be reasoned with; the best thing to do was not make him angry.

  "Yes," she said almost inaudibly, lowering her head. "I'll sleep with you when we're married, no matter how frightened I get."

  He heaved a sigh and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees in a posture of utter weariness. "Only that saved you tonight," he admitted curtly. "You really were frightened, you weren't faking it. You've really been treated roughly down the line, haven't you, Jessica? But I don't want to hear about it, I can't take it now."

  "All right," she whispered.

  "And stop looking like a whipped kitten!" he shouted, getting to his feet and pacing angrily to the window. He shoved his hands deeply into his pockets and stood staring out at the brightly lit streets. "I'll telephone Maman tomorrow," he said, reining in his temper. "And I'll try to get out of my meeting fairly early so we can shop for your wedding gown. Since we'll have to get married on the island, all of the trimmings will be expected," he explained bitterly.

  "Why does it have to be on the island?" she questioned hesitantly.

  "Because I grew up there," he growled. "The island belongs to me, and I belong to the island. The villagers would never forgive me if I got married anywhere but there, with all the traditional celebrations. The women will want to fuss over my bride; the men will want to congratulate me and give me advice on handling a wife."

  "And your mother?"

  He turned to face her and his eyes were hard. "She'll be hurt, but she won't question me. And let me warn you now, Jessica, that if you ever do anything to hurt or insult my mother, I'll make you wish you'd never been born. Whatever you've been through before will seem like heaven compared to the hell I'll put you through."

  She gasped at the hatred in his eyes. Desperately she tried to defend herself and she cried out, "You know I'm not like that! Don't try to make me a villain because things haven't gone as you'd have liked them! I didn't want it to be this way between us."

  "I can see that," he said grimly. "You'd have preferred it if I'd been as gullible as Robert Stanton, seeing only your angelic face and willing to give you anything you wanted. But I know you for what you are, and you won't take me to the cleaners like you did that old man. You had a choice, Jessica. As my mistress, you'd have been spoiled rotten and treated like a queen. As my wife, you'll have my name and very little else, but you made your choice and you'll live with it. Just don't expect any more generous settlements like I gave you for those stocks, and above all, remember that I'm Greek, and after the wedding you'll belong to me body and soul. Think about that, darling." He gave the endearment a sarcastic bite and she winced away from the savagery of his tone.

  "You're wrong," she said in a trembling voice. "I'm not like that, Nikolas; you know I'm not. Why are you saying such awful things? Please, let me tell you how it was—"

  "I'm not interested in how it was," he shouted suddenly, his face rilled with the rage he could no longer control. "Don't you know when to shut up? Don't push me!"

  Shaking, she turned away from him and crossed to the bedroom. No, she couldn't do it. No matter how much she loved him, it was plain that he'd never love her, and if she made the mistake of marrying him, he would make her life a misery. He'd never forgive her for bringing him to the point where he'd agreed to marriage. He was proud and angry, and as he had said, he was Greek. A Greek never forgot a grievance; a Greek went after vengeance.

  It would be better to make a clean break, never to see him again. It would be impossible to forget him, of course, but she knew that any sort of marriage between them was impossible. She had lived with scorn and suspicion from strangers, but she couldn't take it from her husband. It was time she left England completely, returned to the States, where she could live in quiet seclusion.

  "Put that suitcase back," he said in a deadly voice from the doorway as she lifted her case from the closet.

  Paling, she cast him a startled glance.
"It's the only way," she pleaded. "Surely you see that marriage between us wouldn't work. Let me go, Nikolas, before we tear each other to pieces."

  His mouth twisted cynically. "Backing out, now that you know you won't be able to twist me around your little finger? It won't work, Jessica. We'll be married next week—unless you want to pay the price for walking out of this hotel without me?"

  She knew what he meant and her chin went up. Without a word, she shoved her suitcase back onto the shelf and closed the door.

  "I thought so," he murmured. "Don't get any more ideas about running out on me, or you'll regret it. Now come back in here and sit down. I'll order dinner sent up and we'll work out the details of our arrangement."

  He was so cold-blooded about it that the last thing she wanted to do was talk to him, but she went ahead of him and took a seat on the sofa, not looking at him.

  He ordered dinner without asking her preference, then he called Andros, who was on the floor below them, and told him to come to the suite in an hour, he wanted him to take some notes. Then he replaced the receiver and came to take a seat on the sofa beside her. Uneasily Jessica edged away from him and he gave a short bark of laughter.

  "That's odd behavior for a prospective bride," he mocked. "So standoffish. I won't let you get away with that, you know. I'm paying for the right to touch you when I please and however I please, and I don't want any more playacting."

  "I'm not playacting," she denied shakily. "You know I'm not."

  He eyed her thoughtfully. "No, I suppose you're not. You're afraid of me, aren't you? But you'll do what I want, if I marry you first. Too bad that kills any sense of mercy I might have possessed."

  There was no convincing him. Jessica fell silent and tried to draw together the shreds of her dignity and composure. He was furious, and her attempts to establish her innocence were only making him that much angrier, so she decided to go along with him. If nothing else, she could salvage her pride.