Sold to the Enemy. Sarah Morgan
usually enjoy yourself?’
‘I have an overprotective father.’ Realising that she’d said more than she intended to, Selene draped the dress over her arm. ‘Is there somewhere I can try it on?’
‘You’ll need underwear.’ Maria handed her several boxes. ‘Go and change and if you need help, call me.’
An hour later Selene was the proud owner of the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen, along with a small emergency wardrobe suitable for an overnight stay at a luxury villa on a Greek island. Ahead of her lay the most exciting night of her life, and if lurking underneath her happiness was a fear that her father might return early she dismissed it.
That wasn’t going to happen.
She’d have plenty of time to get home, persuade her mother to leave and be long gone before he returned.
‘You can’t do this. You can’t take that girl to the party. It’s immoral.’
Stefan glanced up from the papers he was signing to find Maria standing in front of his desk like a general facing down an enemy army.
‘Now, that’s the look you’re supposed to give unwanted visitors.’ He flung down his pen. ‘Do I need to remind you that you were the one who showed her into the lion’s den?’
‘I’m serious, Stefan. Take someone else. Someone more your type.’
‘Just this morning you were lecturing me on picking the wrong type. Make up your mind.’
‘I wasn’t telling you to prey on innocent girls.’
‘She’s an adult. She knows what she’s doing.’ He picked up his pen and flicked through the papers on his desk.
‘She’s an idealist. She thinks you’re thoughtful and kind.’
‘I know.’ Smiling, Stefan signed the back page. ‘For once, I’m the good guy. An unfamiliar role, I admit, but I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying the novelty.’
‘You’re treating her like a shiny new toy that you can play with.’ Maria’s mouth set in a firm line. ‘Send her home to her father.’
Stefan was careful not to let the sudden flare of emotion show on his face. Slowly, he put his pen down. ‘Do you know who her father is?’
‘No. Although she mentioned something about him being overprotective.’
‘Is that a useful synonym for “tyrant”, I wonder? Her father, Maria, is Stavros Antaxos.’ He watched as Maria’s face lost some of its colour. ‘Yes. Exactly.’ He heard his voice harden and it irritated him that just saying the name was enough to do that to him. He’d had over two decades to learn how to control his response.
‘How on earth can a man like that produce someone as charming as Selene?’
He’d been asking himself the same question.
‘I assume she takes after her mother.’
Maria looked troubled. ‘But why would someone as wealthy as her, from such a close family, come to you?’
He’d been asking himself the same question. Repeatedly. ‘I’m a hero, didn’t you know? I’m the first man women think of when they’re in trouble.’
‘You’re the man who causes the trouble.’
‘Ouch, that’s harsh.’ Stefan leaned back and stretched out his legs. ‘Here I am, sword at the ready, eager to chop the head off a dragon to save the maiden, and all you can do is knock my confidence.’
She didn’t smile. ‘Is that really what’s going on here? Because it occurred to me that maybe you’re using the maiden to taunt the dragon.’
Stefan’s smile didn’t slip. ‘When we were dishing out roles in this company I picked cynic, not you.’
‘We’re all cynical here. It’s contagious. Does she know how much her father hates you? Does she know the story?’
No one knew the story. Not even Maria, whom he allowed more liberties than most. Oh, she thought she knew—thought it was all about business rivalry and two alpha males acting out their deeply competitive natures. She had no idea how far back it went, or how deep the scars. And why would she? They weren’t visible. He didn’t allow them to be visible.
‘It’s because of my relationship with her father that she chose me.’
Maria’s mouth flattened with disapproval.
‘Are you sure this isn’t a case of out of the frying pan and into the fire?’
‘You’re suggesting I’m worse than Antaxos? That is hardly a complimentary view of one’s boss.’
‘We’re not talking about work right now. My admiration for your intellect and business skills is boundless but when it comes to women you’re bad news. What are your plans for her, Stefan?’
‘When it comes to women I never make plans. You should know that by now. “Plan” implies a future and we both know I don’t think like that. I’ve agreed to help her with her business—which, by the way, looks remarkably interesting on paper, particularly when you consider the product. And I’m taking her to a party. I intend to provide more fun than she’s had in the rest of her life. She can make her own decisions about how she spends her time. She’s twenty-two and on a quest for independence.’ Stefan battled a disturbingly vivid image of her breasts revealed through a cloud of lace. ‘All grown up.’
‘She’s very inexperienced.’
‘Yes. I’m finding that unusually appealing.’
‘And does that appeal have anything to do with the fact you are the last man her father would want her to be with? Thinking of her with you will drive him demented.’
Stefan smiled. ‘I consider that an added bonus.’
‘I’m worried about her, Stefan.’
‘She came to me. She asked for my help. I’m giving it.’ It was obvious that there was something going on beneath the surface and it intrigued him. She was playing a game, but he wasn’t sure which game. ‘I don’t recall you ever being this protective of the women I date before.’
‘That’s because you normally date women who don’t need protecting from anything.’
‘So maybe it’s time for a change.’ Cutting off the conversation, he rose to his feet. ‘How long until she’s ready? No doubt she’s still pulling clothes on and off, trying to decide what to wear.’
‘She decided what to wear in less than five seconds and it took her barely more than that to try it on.’
Used to women who could waste the best part of a day selecting one outfit, he was impressed. ‘I like her more and more.’
‘She has a very high opinion of you.’
‘I know.’ He walked past her to the door and Maria made a frustrated sound.
‘Where is your conscience?’
Stefan picked up his jacket. ‘I don’t have a conscience.’
When he’d mentioned his villa she’d imagined somewhere small. She hadn’t for one moment expected this spacious, airy mansion with high ceilings and acres of glass. Here, in this testament to innovative architecture, there were no dark corners or contagious gloom, just dazzling light exploding across marble floors and picking out the warm Mediterranean colours that turned the deceptively simple interior into a luxurious sanctuary.
Outside, a vine-shaded terrace led to gardens that created a blur of extravagant colour as they tumbled down a gentle slope that led to a crescent beach. And even there the idyll didn’t end. Unlike Antaxos, there were no killer rocks or dark, fathomless depths that threatened to swallow a person and leave