CHAPTER ONE
NIKOSANGELAKIstood at the edge of the ballroom and surveyed the five hundred or so guests
who were dancing or sipping champagne beneath the ornate chandeliers. The men were uniform
in black tuxedos, while the women—dressed in couture gowns and flaunting a spectacular array
of diamonds and precious gems—flitted about the dance floor like gaudy butterflies. He flicked
back the cuff of his dinner jacket, glanced at his Rolex, and then began to make his way across
the room—aware of the interested glances he received as he passed. At thirty-two he was used to
the attention his looks and the rumours of his wealth attracted. An attractive blonde in a daringly
low-cut dress caught his attention, and his gaze lingered on her fleetingly before he stepped into
the lobby.
It was the first time he had attended the royal ball or visited the Aristan palace, and he was
impressed by the elegant splendour of the rooms where the silk-covered walls were lined with
priceless works of art. The ruling family of the House of Karedes was one of the wealthiest
families in Europe, and the guest-list included members of the aristocracy and heads of state—
grand people who had no idea that the Prince Regent’s honoured guest tonight had grown up in
the slums of Athens.
Nikos wondered cynically if the butler who had escorted him to the state drawing room to greet
Prince Sebastian would have been quite so obsequious if he’d known that Nikos’s mother had
once worked as a lowly kitchen maid at the palace. However, that was something he hadn’t even
revealed to Sebastian, despite the close friendship that had developed between them.
He strode across the hall, pushed open a door, and found himself in the banqueting suite, which
was empty, apart from a waitress at the far end of the room who—unlike the other palace staff
who seemed to be rushed off their feet tonight—was idly folding napkins.
The guests had eaten earlier, but Nikos’s delayed flight had meant that he had missed the buffet
supper, and as he glanced at the mouth-watering selection of canapés he was aware of a hollow
feeling in his stomach. Business first, he told himself firmly. It was evening in Aristo, but early
afternoon on America’s east coast and he had arranged to call a client in New York. He strolled
towards the waitress who had her back to him and was still oblivious to his presence.
‘Can you tell me if there is somewhere I can be uninterrupted? I need to make an urgent
business call.’
The deep, gravelly voice was so innately sensual that the tiny hairs on Kitty’s body stood on
end, and she turned her head, her heart crashing in her chest when she stared up at the man who
had come silently into the room. She had recognised him instantly when he had walked into the
ballroom earlier in the evening—Nikos Angelaki, billionaire shipping magnate, notorious
playboy, and in recent months one of her brother’s closest confidants. Sebastian had explained
that he had met Nikos at a business function in Greece, and since then the two men had
discovered a mutual liking for poker and the roulette wheel in the nightclubs of Aristo and
Athens.
The photographs Kitty had seen of him in the tabloids had triggered her interest, but nothing had
prepared her for the impact of Nikos in the flesh. He was suave, sophisticated and spine-
tinglingly sexy. Taller than average; his tapered black trousers emphasised his long legs and taut
thighs, while his impeccably tailored dinner jacket cloaked formidably broad shoulders. But it
was his face that captured her attention. Handsome was a barely adequate description of the
chiselled perfection of his features: the slanting, razor-sharp cheekbones and square chin, the
heavy brows arched above midnight-dark eyes, and a wide, sensual mouth.
In the silence that stretched between them Kitty sensed his arrogance and devil-may-care
confidence, and she felt an unbidden and shockingly intense tug of sexual awareness that sent a
quiver down her spine. He was gorgeous, but she suddenly realised that she was staring at him,
and she blushed.
‘There is a small sitting room through there,’ she mumbled, indicating the door at the far end of
the room.
‘Thank you.’
His eyes skimmed over her, making a brief inspection of her unexciting black cocktail dress, and
Kitty wished fervently that she had bought a new outfit for the ball—something slinky and low-
cut that would have made him look at her with male appreciation, rather than dismiss her without
a second glance.
But she had never been very interested in clothes, preferring her research work for Aristo’s
museum to shopping, and it had only been when she had flicked through her list of preparations