The Greek’s Cinderella Deal by Carol Marinelli
CHAPTER TEN
EVENTHEPLAYBOY doesn’t want you... Mary taunted herself as she stripped off and sat on the lonely bed.
She looked through the menu, but it was all dreadfully healthy. Well, it was a health retreat after all. But then she flicked to the late-night menu, and it seemed that from eleven at night until five in the morning some of the guests caved.
There were hot chips and luxurious-looking burgers and souvlakis, as well as sokolatopita, which Mary read was an old-fashioned Greek chocolate cake, best served with vanilla ice cream.
Oh, my.
Except her stomach didn’t growl; it was lower down that she ached. And though she was all wound up from their row, and all churned up at being sent away, thoughts of Costa still brought in new feelings.
Her breasts hurt. Perhaps it was her new Pill, but they felt heavy, and her nipples stung as if they were crying out to be pinched, and her body was all tight and restless.
And on top of all that she was sad.
It wasn’t just Costa she adored, but Yolanda too. And her party had come to matter to Mary. Now she was about to be put on the next chopper out, and she would never know how Costa had achieved all his business successes, or find out how the party went, or meet poor Roula...
Mary was frantic for some sort of omniscient debriefing, with pie charts and an analysis to fill in all the gaps when it came to this man.
Mary couldn’t sleep. She just lay there, wide awake, for hours. And it wasn’t just the row, or the fact that she was leaving tomorrow, or the million other reasons that kept her from rest...
She unzipped her bag and took out the little fridge magnet and, as she had on so many nights in a new and unfamiliar place, she decided it needed to be on the fridge.
Except, for all the luxury of her guest suite there was no fridge.
But then, why would there be, when there was natural spring water in a stone jug by the bed and bountiful supplies outside in the kitchen? And there was a fleet of staff a mere phone call away to cater to her every last whim.
Mary cast her eyes around for anything metal that would suffice for tonight, but there was nothing.
‘Oh, Mum,’ Mary whispered, ‘what have I done?’
She waited for the inexplicable comfort of her mum’s gentle smile and the comfort she needed. But for some reason it didn’t come. Possibly her mum was cross at her daughter’s wayward venture. Or maybe she just preferred to be surveying things from a fridge!
And so Mary lay there in the bed. It wasn’t that she was afraid to get up, even though she knew Costa was angry. She’d felt no fear, even when they’d fought.
She was just sad that she was being sent away in the morning, and it was torture recalling the feel of his body pressed to hers and the bliss of his deep kiss...and knowing she would never have it again.
Hearing movement, she sat up. There was the sound of windows and doors being closed and then the little glass window above her door went dark and she realised the lights were all off. There was some more movement as, better late than never, Costa Leventis took his grumpy self to bed.
She waited a full fifteen minutes and then wrapped a towel around her and stepped out quietly, determined to get her magnet safely in place on the fridge in the kitchen and to have it down again by dawn.
‘Oh!’ Mary exclaimed when she passed a large sofa and saw that Costa was half sitting and half stretched out there, with his hands behind his head.
He hadn’t been closing the doors; he’d been opening them up, she realised, as a gentle breeze dusted her skin and the salty scent of the ocean reached her. It was almost as if they were outside.
‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’
Costa, who felt not a single need to justify his movements to her, barely glanced up as she padded past towards his kitchen.
Deliberately so.
Mary Jones would not manipulate him.
Except he could see her in his peripheral vision, and when he briefly closed his eyes he saw only the image of her gliding past him again and again.
‘I won’t disturb you,’ Mary said, even as she did just that.
She was at the fridge now and, unlike Costa, clearly felt the need to justify her every movement and share her every random thought.
‘I’m just putting my magnet up.’
‘Help yourself,’ Costa said.
‘It goes everywhere with me. I can’t sleep otherwise.’
He said nothing to her rather odd statement, even if he was a little curious. Costa could stonewall better than most and simply refused to engage. It was possibly safer.
But though he continued to gaze out to the yachts beyond, and the incredible night sky, still the image of her slender frame moving past him played over in his mind. Like a little ethereal being, she was so pale, and she had made no real noise as she’d slipped out of the guest room and glided by.
Well, until she spoke.
And now she was back in his line of vision, and he felt like a teenager, growing suddenly hard. So, as he had back then, he thought of the boats coming in and piles of fish being tipped out, waiting for him to gut them.
That worked.
‘I’m ordering some food,’ Mary said.
‘Go for it,’ Costa said, still refusing to look at her. But then came the prickle of conscience, for she was a guest in his home and had not eaten. ‘Seriously,’ he said, making the mistake of meeting her eyes, ‘whatever you want, just order it...’
His disgusting fish thoughts that had never yet failed him were letting him down now. Or rather, not letting him down, he thought wryly. Meeting Mary’s gaze had made him acutely aware of the feeling of her novice hand on him, and he lived the moment again.
Go to bed, he wanted to say. Just... Go. To. Bed.
But it would seem Mary had more random thoughts that she cared to share. ‘I thought I might get a souvlaki, and I want to try the chocolate cake...’
‘Get whatever the hell you want!’
He saw the press of her lips as she closed them, and the flash of her eyes as his words silenced her, and then she flounced off.
If she was upset, then it would serve her well—to remind her of the emotional desert she was dealing with.
Costa ran his tongue over his new crown and felt the itch of his stitches. That worked better to let him down than his stupid fish thoughts.
He wished he’d never laid eyes on Mary Jones.
Liar!
His conscience, which rarely put in an appearance, seemed to have taken the microphone and challenged him loudly, as if on Surround Sound.
Well, then, he wished he’d just said his piece to Ridgemont that night and walked the hell away.
No, you don’t.
Okay! Costa silently submitted a final amendment for his conscience to consider. He wished he’d sent Ridgemont off, as he had done, then said goodnight to Mary outside the restaurant and never looked up from his phone as she teetered unsteadily away.
That seemed to silence his conscience.
In fact, the pounding in his head was easing a bit, and the carousel of his thoughts was slowing down.
The grylo were loud tonight—or the crickets, as Mary would say. They chirruped outside the window, and though he tried to train his hearing towards the soothing swoosh of the ocean, really it was trained entirely on the guest suite.
He might as well have his ear to her door, for he was straining to hear her.
And it was her silence that killed him as he sat there.
It was her lack of tears that burrowed into his cold black heart.
She’d almost cried earlier tonight, though—he was sure of that.
Costa stood, walking over to the fridge to see what she’d been doing. He looked at the odd magnet that now clung to the gleaming appliance and thought of all the places it must have been and all the things it must have witnessed.
Adrift.
Maybe he needed that moment in a debriefing room, with pie charts and markers and such, because he still had questions for Mary.
He knocked and entered and there she stood, phone in one hand, late-night menu in the other, completely naked.
Costa loved it that she did not reach for a towel, just stared at him.
‘Have you ordered?’ he asked.
Mary was amazed that she could stand nude and make conversation about such an everyday thing.
‘I was about to.’ She swallowed. ‘Do you want me to order for you?’
‘Put down the phone, Mary.’
‘Am I to receive another lecture?’
‘No,’ Costa said. ‘What was it that upset you this evening?’
‘I have to choose one thing?’ She widened her eyes. ‘Why, Costa, there were so many...’
‘Mary,’ Costa said, and they both knew the moment to which he was referring, ‘you almost cried.’
‘No.’ She shrugged and lied right to his face. ‘I didn’t.’
‘Mary?’
She could tell him to get out and she knew he’d go. But there was no point in lying now. She stood naked before him, yet he’d invited her to shed so much more than just her clothes.
‘Will you tell me about yourself?’ Mary asked.
‘No.’
He was at least honest about his inability to share, she thought.
‘I don’t want to let anyone in.’
‘That’s not very fair.’
He didn’t respond to her statement.
‘You can tell me,’ he said.
Could she?
Her mind darted in search of reasons, yet there was no reason she could discover to keep her secret now—no job to lose, no people to offend. She had already seen to that.
‘I lied.’
‘We all do.’
‘I’m not an orphan,’ Mary told him. ‘I didn’t deserve Yolanda’s hug. My father is in prison. I visit him every week.’ She gave a tight smile.
‘He is the commitment that kept you in London?’
Mary nodded. ‘He was drunk at the wheel in the car accident that killed my mother.’
‘How old were you?’
‘Seven,’ she said. ‘The day of my diving adventure.’
‘And he’s still in prison?’
‘Not for that; the judge gave him a suspended sentence,’ Mary said. ‘But he’d borrowed a lot to pay the lawyers and I had to move schools. Then something happened at work, and that was the first time he was put away...’
‘What about your other family?’
‘My granny cut him off,’ Mary said. ‘I don’t know if she meant to, or if she was just angry, but then she died and it was foster homes...’ She didn’t know what else to say. ‘He used to be wonderful,’ she added. ‘Mr Sensible, we called him. Even though I see him every week, I miss him...’
Mary got her hug then. It was scented in Yolanda’s new perfume and it was so nice to be in another person’s arms, just to be honest while being held, but still she would not cry.
That she would do next week, and alone, when they’d parted. For now, she just burrowed in his arms.
‘I’m so lonely, Costa,’ she admitted, and her admission was raw. She didn’t even temper her words. ‘I don’t expect you to get it. I know you’re an empty tap where emotion’s concerned...’
‘Thanks,’ said the man who held her.
And although she was pressed against him, and naked, there was no need for his trusty fish method. This was no sensual moment. It was about comfort. And so he held her as her sadness seeped into his marrow.
‘I didn’t come with you to Anapliró looking for a relationship,’ Mary told him. ‘I wanted to be part of a family, I guess...just for a weekend.’ She inhaled deeper. ‘I wasn’t acting...’
‘I know you weren’t.’
Costa sighed, because though she might have been hiding for a long time, he’d been witness to the real Mary.
‘Insatiable,’ he said, and he was still not talking about sex.
‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘I actually want to go over to your mother’s tomorrow and find out her secret recipe for baclava and make it with her...’
She was honest...so honest, he thought.
‘I want to go to the party and dance and then be carried home and made love to.’
‘And you want to take her a card signed from Mary and Costa...?’
‘Wrong.’
He instinctively knew she was speaking the truth.
‘Just from Mary. I bought some seashell earrings at Thira airport...but they’re probably touristy and not to her taste.’
‘Who knows with Yolanda?’
‘And I know you’ve got something fantastic lined up for her on Sunday and that I’m not a part of that.’ She peeled herself off him. ‘I just wanted to play families for a while, and then, believe it or not, I wanted to get on with my life.’
‘I see that now.’
‘What about you?’ Mary asked.
‘Me?’
He knew she was waiting for the mystery of Costa to be revealed.
But there were no reciprocal rights with Costa.
He remained closed.
‘I’ve booked your helicopter for ten,’ he told her, ‘and a hotel room with the best view of the Acropolis.’
‘You’re very nice to break up with,’ she said, then hastily added, ‘Not that this was a relationship or anything.’
‘Correct.’ Costa nodded, and waited for the winds of relief to blow, and yet the air in the room was still.
‘I need to eat...’ Mary said.
He heard a slight husk in her voice and she cleared her throat.
‘I’m starving,’ she said as she finally picked up a towel and covered herself.
He saw a speckle of red on her cheeks and some mottling on her chest.
‘There is one thing you ought to know,’ Costa said. ‘Even a slut like me would never have put you in danger.’
‘Sorry about that.’ Mary winced. ‘I was just...’
‘I get that you were cross. So was I... But with myself.’
He wanted to touch the little goosebumps on her bare arm, and he could see, even beneath the thick towel, the jut of her nipples. He should walk out through that door right now.
‘I’ve never had unprotected sex,’ he told her.
‘Bravo!’ Mary said, and she saw his odd smile. ‘Round of applause for Costa...’
She’d clap, except she was clinging onto the towel.
How, she wondered, could she be naked and relaxed in his arms one moment, and the next be standing feet apart from him wrapped in a towel and about to combust?
‘You’d have been fine,’ he told her.
‘Good to know,’ Mary said.
‘You would be fine.’
She swallowed and, although he just stood there, it would seem it was not just she who was tipping.
She dared not look down to see whether he was as physically affected as she was. In fact, she didn’t need to, for his eyes were black with desire. His mouth was neither smiling nor stern. It was closed, as though to hold in the words he wanted to say.
She would have to come to him, Costa had said. Clearly he was sticking to his earlier promise...
‘I’m going to bed,’ he told her, hoping like hell she would join him.
The helicopter was booked, and tomorrow she would be gone, but now—here—there was simply no denying their desire for each other.
One night.
It sounded a whole lot safer than two.
So turn and go, Costa told himself.
Except her slender shoulders sagged and he saw a flash of hopelessness in her eyes.
It was no longer for Mary to come to him, Costa knew.
She wanted to be wanted.
She needed to be wanted.
‘Are you coming?’ he asked, and saw the shine of her smile and heard her shriek of delight which made him laugh as he crossed the room and scooped her up.
Oh, he was gorgeous... She just clung to his neck and felt a lovely rush of air as the towel fell away.
As he carried her towards the coveted navy bed, he asked only once. ‘Sure?’
‘You know I am.’
She felt the softness of the velvet as he dropped her onto his bed, and then, like some magician, he pulled the velvet from beneath her so that she lay on a cool sheet.
She truly felt as if she was strapped in for a ride on a rollercoaster. A cocktail of desire and nervousness flooded through her as she watched Costa undress. He undressed more slowly than last time, for he was assessing her with his eyes. Of course it was mutual, because that delicious body was being revealed to her again, only this time in a slow, teasing fashion.
She looked at his long arms and his broad shoulders as he stripped off his shirt and was surprised when she saw the little mark that she knew she had made. It made her stomach clench. She felt Costa’s eyes move there. Then they moved further down, and she could feel him looking at her blonde curls.
Mary looked up. ‘They wanted to wax it all off,’ she told him, ‘at the salon on Thira.’
Costa told her what they could do with their suggestion and chased away the last whispers of that awful morning.
Although Mary would do it all again just for this moment.
Costa stood, stripped, and this time she saw not a rigid jutting, like before, but instead a soft lifting swell that made her hands want to bunch up the sheet beneath her. He was more beautiful than she knew what to do with and her eyes rose to his.
She trusted him. Costa knew it. And for once someone else’s trust didn’t terrify him. He didn’t feel that this trust came with the usual weight of responsibility.
‘I wish I had a phone to take a picture,’ Mary admitted, ‘so I could look at you again.’
‘I swear to God...’
He would warn her later, but for now he shelved the lecture and smiled, because all it was, was bedroom talk.
He saw the leap of her pulse in her throat and then his eyes moved down to her breasts. He wanted to kiss every inch of that skin, or perhaps moisten her with his tongue and stretch her with the caress of his fingers...
Mary watched him harden and felt an urge to raise her knees and open herself to him. It was instinct, but she felt it deep within her.
Costa turned sideways and she saw his lovely bottom, which was rather hairy too, and then he turned off the light so that they were bathed in pale light from the moon. He climbed into bed. He pulled up the sheet and covered them both, and then turned her to face him.
She stared back at him as he brushed her hair from her face, and then he kissed her cheek, her nose, and finally her lips.
‘Better?’ he said, and she nodded.
Who kisses like this?Costa thought ages later, when the moon had given up and taken itself behind a cloud.
‘Those magazines were wrong,’ she said after a while, drawing circles on his chest and then kissing him again. ‘You’re a very considerate lover.’
‘I haven’t loved you yet,’ Costa said.
And while he knew he should perhaps amend his words, he didn’t wish them unsaid. He had already made it clear that this night was a one-off.
They kissed again, little wet kisses that were gentle and tender. The slip of his tongue was like nectar, and his unshaven face was scratchy and nice, and she lingered on the feast of his mouth: deep kisses that were hard, dirty kisses that made her shiver at the suggestions his tongue made, and soft, slow kisses that gently pulled her back.
His hand on her breast was so light at first that it seemed like the barest brush of pleasure. Then his palm rubbed her breast a little harder and he kissed her deeply, while coaxing her nipple to impossible lengths.
Mary was boiling, the sheet suddenly too warm. She wanted to kick it off, but she loved their haven.
His hand found hers and he guided it down until she held him. Wrapping her fingers around him felt incredible. So incredible. To her surprise, a bead of moisture came to her palm.
His kiss was hungrier now, and he was pulling her hard against his flesh, pressing them together while his leg trapped her. She was now far too hot, and she wanted his hand to touch her where she ached, except he did not oblige.
Suddenly she was frantic, making noises into his mouth before she went rigid, and then began to pulse as she climaxed in his arms...
She was disorientated as he rolled her onto her back, wildly flinging pillows to the floor. His weight on top of her was deliciously oppressive, the crush of his kiss the sweetest reward, and she dragged in air as he lifted himself onto his forearms.
She wanted him heavy on her again, but instead his hand moved between her legs as he parted her thighs and lifted one of her knees a fraction. He was looking right at her in a silent request, and she moved her other leg to match so she was open to him.
She knew he did not need to test with his hand whether she was ready because they were both heady with musky dampness. She felt the head of him sliding back and forth over her heat, before pressing, nudging against the ache that craved him. He kept teasing that pearl with his tip, and then moving back to her entrance while she awaited the inevitable pain, the slow push and the tender squeeze of him as he stretched her.
But then she thought she might faint, for he simply took her. Just seared in all at once.
Not simply.
He felt the tear of her virgin flesh and then how tight she was, how she held him inside.
So much for going slowly!
He let out a hollow shout.
It was too intense, too much sensation all at once.
For Costa, the world turned black. He was fighting to give her time to adjust to him. He was over her, panting and trying not to thrust. He was almost braced for a slap, for a shove, for a warning flash from those sparkling eyes. But instead her eyes opened to him, and there was a slight pout to her lips as she smiled.
It was a smile she had never given before...a smile from her that he had never seen...and it invited him to begin taking long, slow thrusts.
‘That hurt...’ she whispered as he started to move.
‘I know.’
‘I came when you kissed me...’ Mary told him.
‘Shh...’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m trying not to—’
‘Please...’
Costa gave in then, and stopped trying to slow himself down. Instead, he took her with an energy she devoured, for she was clinging onto his shoulders, coiling her legs around him, lost in his power and the sensations of the moment.
Mary felt as if she were being lifted, wrapped and indulged, consumed. His muscles were taut beneath her fingers, and she slipped her hands down and felt his ribs, moved to his hips, and then she pressed them into the buttocks she’d gazed upon before he’d turned off the light. She licked his chest as it moved over her, tasting him.
She wanted to lift her head, but her neck would not co-operate, and she lay in a sudden hush, broken only by the sounds of Costa’s effort as he drove into her again and again.
There was a flush of excitement flooding her, a sudden rush sweeping up and down. Costa shouted as if to warn her, to alert her, maybe, for it was as if the gates had suddenly flown open in a storm. He finally shot into her, and she met him and matched his final thrusts. She had not been expecting to shatter so completely. She was trying to twist, to escape this most intense of pleasures, but she finally succumbed, letting the bliss wash over her.
She knew the world would look different on the other side.