Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife(3)

He pressed the button on the intercom and replied with perfect composure, ‘Thank you. Send her up.’

Rion sensed every eye in the room widen. It was understandable; he’d never mentioned her. But then he never spoke about failed ventures or the past. Since she fell into both categories, he did his best not to even think about her. Sometimes he even succeeded.

‘Apologies, gentlemen. I’m afraid we will need to continue this meeting at another time.’

The men cleared the room without another word. Only Stephanos lingered.

‘You know, an alternative way of convincing people you are the settling kind has just this minute occurred to me,’ he said wryly, looking Rion straight in the eye and walking backwards towards the door. ‘Nothing melts hearts like a reunion   story.’



Libby hadn’t used his surname for five years; hadn’t called herself his wife for just as long. If the look of shock on the receptionist’s face was anything to go by, Rion hadn’t mentioned her existence either. Yet it seemed his instruction to send her up immediately was proof enough that she was telling the truth, for within seconds the receptionist had become politeness personified—even explaining in detail how Libby could get to his office on the top floor via the stairs when she mentioned she’d rather not use the lift.

As she ascended the stairs, Libby ignored the doubts churning in her stomach and told herself to get a grip. What they’d had once was already lost, the emotional side of it dealt with long ago. This was just a formality, bound to be nothing more than a slightly awkward but amicable exchange between two people who were virtual strangers to one another now, she tried to convince herself. Maybe when it was over she’d even feel the complete sense of freedom she’d always been searching for but had never quite found. She clung to that thought as she arrived on the top floor, passed through a landing area, and then proceeded along a corridor to knock on a large mahogany door emblazoned with his name.

‘Come in.’

Yes, in theory the emotional side should have been dealt with long ago, but the instant she saw him Libby knew that she had been seriously mistaken.

Of course she was well aware that Orion Delikaris was the most desirable man on the planet. She hadn’t expected that to have changed. But she had expected that age and wealth would have altered him at least fractionally. Instead, to her horror, save for the fact that his suit now looked ludicrously expensive, everything was exactly as she remembered. His strong, proud jaw, his resplendent dark hair, those liquid brown eyes that had fuelled her teenage fantasies and shaped her adult ones. Which had gazed right back at her on their wedding day, their wedding night.

She blinked, blocking out the memories, blocking out the urge to run again—away from feelings she shouldn’t be feeling any more. ‘Hello, Rion,’ she managed, somehow.

Rion ran his eyes over her, frustrated to find that the action induced the most powerful kick of arousal he’d felt in years. But he knew it was only because his body still saw her as the woman who’d rejected him, was just responding the way it did to any challenge. The second she started begging him to take her back his desire would evaporate. And yet it annoyed him that she should still get to him that way—especially when she looked so…different. The thick blond hair which had once hung in a silken curtain down her back was gone, now cut short in the kind of style he usually considered unfeminine, but which somehow made her features look even more delicate. Her petite, pale figure, which had once driven him to distraction, had also disappeared, but in its place was an even more enticing mass of toned, sensual curves tanned to a beguiling shade of golden-brown.

He gritted his teeth. Which suggested she spent her life on holiday. That would be about right: Caribbean beaches and designer shops, no doubt funded by her parents. Though somehow that image didn’t seem to fit with the clothes she was dressed in. Perhaps Ashworth Motors had fallen on hard times. A perverse part of him hoped that it had. It would make telling her no—after she’d been of use to him, of course—all the sweeter.

‘So tell me,’ he said, unable to fathom her delay if that was the case, ‘what took you so long?’

Libby was taken aback by his question, by his implacable expression that bordered on hostile, but she told herself it was understandable. She, for all the good it had done her, had at least been able to prepare herself mentally for seeing him again. He’d had no such luxury.

‘I took the stairs,’ she answered, looking up at the clock on the wall and noting that she’d only been five minutes. She was about to shoot out You know I don’t do lifts, but then she remembered that he didn’t know, that he’d really known so little about her, and she about him.