Mediterranean Tycoons. JACQUELINE BAIRD
PROLOGUE
ORION MORALIS—Rion to his friends—impatiently tapped his long fingers on the steering wheel of the powerful sports car. Athens was notorious for traffic snarl-ups, so it was no surprise he was stuck in one. He was going to be late for a damn dinner party he did not want to go to in the first place. It was his father’s fault, he mused.
Rion had arrived back from a two-month business trip to the USA late last night. At eight this morning his intercom had been activated and his father had breezed into his apartment.
‘To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ Rion had asked, and the answer had amazed him.
‘I had lunch with Mark Stakis yesterday, and he has agreed to sell his company at a really good price.’ He’d quoted a figure. ‘How about that?’ His dad had beamed. ‘I haven’t lost my touch yet.’
His father’s determination to take over the Stakis shipping line was becoming an obsession. Rion was not involved, but he knew the firm was worth a lot more than what Stakis was asking—the man was giving his business away. But his dad was obviously delighted. He was retiring in the autumn and this deal was to be his last—which was just as well, as his dad was definitely losing his mind if he believed the offer to sell at that price was genuine.
‘So what is the catch?’ he had prompted dryly.
‘Well, Stakis does have a couple of provisos. First, he wants a few shares in the Moralis Corporation instead of more cash. Second, he wants you to marry his granddaughter, so he will know someone of his blood will still be connected to the business that has been his life and his father’s before him after he is gone.’
Rion couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Incredible.’ He shook his head. ‘I am not marrying any woman for years—if ever—and as for Stakis’s granddaughter, it would be a physical impossibility. The man doesn’t have a granddaughter. His son Benedict, his wife and teenage children were killed in a helicopter crash ages ago—or had you forgotten?’ he queried seriously.
‘No, of course not. It was a tragedy!’ his father declared indignantly.
Then his father told him the story. Benedict Stakis had fathered a child with an Englishwoman when his own wife had been pregnant with twins. Stakis had only discovered the existence of his illegitimate granddaughter after his son’s death. Apparently Benedict had persuaded the woman to keep quiet in exchange for setting up a trust fund with an English lawyer to provide for the child. Mark Stakis had finally met the girl, Selina Taylor, last September, and now she had finished school she was spending the summer in Greece with him.
‘You want me to marry a schoolgirl?’ Rion asked with a laugh, relieved his dad was not going senile. ‘You aren’t serious?’
‘I am serious, and it is not funny. The girl is not a child; she is nearly nineteen. She is staying at Stakis’s home in the city and he is holding a dinner party tonight to introduce her to society. We are all invited, so you can meet her and see what you think.’
‘No. I don’t need to think. Definitely not.’
‘At least meet her. This is too good a deal to pass up.’
But pass it up Rion had—adamantly—over and over again. Then his father had brought up some of Rion’s past ladyfriends, and a recent episode when Rion had been pictured in a tabloid outside a nightclub arguing with the paparazzi over a married lady who was no better than she should be, and had told him it was time he got himself a good woman instead of the bad he so obviously favoured.
His father had then hinted that he would have to think seriously of delaying his retirement and was not happy at the thought of leaving the business until he knew his son was settled.
His father was not averse to a bit of emotional blackmail … Yet they both knew Rion had, over the past few years, been the driving force behind the diversification from the original Moralis shipping line into the international company it was today. But Rion also knew his father’s doctor had warned him after his last heart attack to retire or suffer an early demise. Never mind the fact his stepmother, Helen, would be furious if she had to postpone the world cruise she had planned for his dad’s retirement in September.
Finally he had agreed to attend the dinner, but had made it very clear that was all he was promising—and only to humour his father. His dad saw this deal as the finishing touch on a successful career. He might actually succeed in taking over Stakis Shipping, but he would have to do it without Rion marrying some schoolgirl …
The idea of a marriage for business reasons was not something he would ever contemplate—but then he found the idea of marrying for love just as unpalatable. He wasn’t convinced the emotion actually existed …
He’d loved his parents, and had thought they’d loved each other. He’d been eleven when his mother had died, and six months later his father had married his secretary, Helen, because she was pregnant. That had hurt Rion, still grieving for his mum. At nineteen he had believed himself in love with Lydia, a stunning society beauty three years older than him. In the year they were together she had vastly expanded his education in the sex department—especially the many and varied ways to please a woman.
Rion had seriously considered asking her to marry him, but swiftly changed his mind when he’d caught her in bed with another woman … Lydia had laughed and suggested he join them, but he had refused, feeling betrayed, and he never did propose. But ‘each to his own’ was his motto, and they remained friends to this day.
With the benefit of hindsight he realised why Lydia had been such a good teacher!
Now at twenty-eight, Rion had learnt to be more discerning in his choice of partner. He liked sophisticated women who accepted from the start that all he offered was pleasure for as long as it lasted. He was not into commitment. He had enjoyed a few relationships, but never again imagined he was in love.
The repeated tooting of car horns reminded him where he was and he drove on.
The Stakis house was in the best suburb of Athens. A long drive led up to an impressive entrance portico. Not knowing how many guests were attending, Rion parked at the bottom of the drive so he could make a quick exit. He had a hot date arranged for later with Chloe, a model he had met twice before, and he walked up the drive with a spring in his step that had nothing to do with the dinner party but everything to do with anticipation of ending a couple of months’ celibacy …
A maid answered the door and showed him through the rambling old house to where the guests were gathered.
Rion walked into the room and paused when he saw the girl standing with his half sister, Iris. It had to be the granddaughter—and she was nothing like he had expected and certainly no child, if his body’s immediate reaction was anything to go by. Selina Taylor had a knock-out body, and he had to fight to control the pleasurable hardening in his groin area at the sight of her before moving on.
She was about five feet six, with full, firm breasts, a narrow waist, slim hips and fabulous legs—all perfectly displayed by the short emerald-green designer gown she wore and the sexy stiletto sandals.
Up close she was stunning. Her hair was reddish gold, its curls cut short to frame the perfect oval of her face. Her features were even and her complexion as pale as cream—when she wasn’t blushing, he amended, which she did rather a lot, he realised as the evening progressed.
But even scarlet-faced she was still lovely. Her expressive eyes fascinated him—big and cat-like, and the most incredible colour: hazel, or amber with a hint of green was as near as he could get. When she laughed they gleamed golden, and when she glanced his way they widened and she looked at him almost in awe—which he found flattering and incredibly arousing.
She had an innocence about her, and a lack of artifice that was totally genuine, Rion was sure. And he should know. He had met enough women who tried to play the innocent but with eyes as hard as stone.
‘So,