Secrets of Cinderella's Awakening Read online

  But Leon must have heard it. Or felt it. Or something. Because he stilled inside her, and when she looked up into his face all she could see was confusion glinting from his narrowed eyes.

  ‘Please don’t stop,’ she whispered, and afterwards she would be ashamed at having said that. For pleading with him, almost.

  But his answer took her by surprise.

  ‘I can’t stop,’ he said, almost bitterly, and began to move again.

  She’d thought that this unmistakable disconnect would be enough to shatter the magic so that she would feel nothing—but she had been wrong. Because Leon immediately adapted to what he’d just discovered by moving inside her at a completely changed pace. At first, his thrusts were performed with almost exaggerated care, until her newly awakened body had adjusted itself to the rocky width of him and to what was happening to her. He took it slow. So very slow. Until she had completely relaxed.

  ‘Oh, Leon,’ she cried out.

  Until that sweet urgency had flared up inside her again, building into such a pitch until she could hold it back no longer. And this time when she came, his body bucked in perfect time with hers.

  But this time he did not kiss her quiet.

  * * *

  Leon rolled off Marnie’s soft body with a reluctance which unsettled him even more than what he had just discovered. He wanted to feel anger and indignation. He wanted to accuse her of misrepresentation. Yet all he could think about was the moment when he’d entered her—recalling that fleeting sensation of resistance before being encased in her molten tightness. He had wanted a novel experience, he reminded himself bitterly. Well, this one had certainly ticked all the right boxes. Or the wrong ones. He gazed up into the star-punctured vault of the black sky and even though he told himself he wasn’t in the least bit interested in her motivations, he found himself biting out a single word.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’ she questioned, her voice soft and replete.

  He rolled onto his side to look at her and instantly regretted the action, for her cushioned flesh looked utterly inviting and he could detect the musky perfume of her sex on the air. Leon swallowed, hovering on the brink of unbearable temptation. He wanted to touch those peaking breasts again. He wanted to part those silken folds and plunge into her with the erection which was already growing rigid against his belly.

  ‘You were a virgin!’ he accused.

  Her eyes fluttered open. ‘So what?’

  ‘Are you kidding me? Virgins don’t just have random sex on beaches with men they’ve just met.’

  ‘You mean, they should save it for their wedding night?’ Her laugh was tinged with a cynicism he recognised as something regularly found in his own repertoire. She sat up, her hair falling over her breasts. ‘Oh, don’t worry, Leon—you can wipe that look of horror from your face. I’m not about to start demanding you provide me with a gold ring and white dress!’

  ‘Because I’d say the white dress would be redundant by now, wouldn’t you?’ he drawled.

  ‘And a marriage would be a lot harder to walk away from than this!’

  He watched as she scrambled to her feet with an innate sexiness which made him want to pull her back down again, but she cursed as she put her weight onto her injured foot and, instinctively, he frowned. ‘Careful with that foot.’

  ‘Just leave my damned foot out of it, will you?’

  He wished he could. He wished he’d never heard her stricken scream. He wished he were a million miles away from here, but he felt a responsibility towards her—one he didn’t want, but which he would honour. It was the least he could do in the circumstances. Rising to his feet, he reached for his jeans. ‘You’d better get dressed,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ll take you back.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary!’ Speaking through gritted teeth, she stepped into her bikini bottoms and hauled them up over her hips. ‘I certainly don’t need your grudging charity. Don’t worry about it. l can make my own way back.’

  The sting of pride in her words made him feel an unexpected wash of gentleness towards her. ‘Marnie,’ he said patiently. ‘It’s getting late and you’re in one of the most remote parts of the island. How are you proposing to get back on your own? It’s not like we’re in Act On. There isn’t a reliable bus service.’

  ‘You’ve obviously never been to Acton, or you’d know that reliable is the last word you could ever use to describe our bus service!’

  He could see her struggling to do up her bikini top and instinctively reached out to help her but she batted him away. ‘I can do it myself. Though I expect you’re far more practised at it than I am!’

  Half in amusement, he watched while she fumbled with the clip until her magnificent breasts were constrained once more, and then pulled on the rather ugly T-shirt dress, which successfully concealed all her curvy magnificence. Lastly, she shook her hair and ran her fingers through it, but still it looked wild and indescribably sexy as she turned to face him. She was struggling to control her rapid breathing and appeared to be choosing her words with care. ‘Look, what just happened was obviously a huge mistake.’

  ‘It’s done now,’ he returned, slightly irritated by the less than flattering sentiment. Was she trying to imply that she hadn’t enjoyed it? Or that she regretted it? ‘You’re sure you’re okay?’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean,’ she responded bluntly. ‘Or is this the moment when I’m supposed to pour on copious amounts of praise about your skill as a lover?’

  Easing the zip over his hardness with difficulty, he winced. ‘That is what usually happens.’

  ‘Oh!’

  For a moment he thought she was going to launch herself at him and start drumming her fists against his chest and wasn’t there a part of him which wanted her to do that, because the fury on her face was turning him on more than it should have done and if she attacked him then surely he would be justified in kissing her? Yet even as he rejected such a scenario as folly, Leon couldn’t shake off the sensation of being...cheated. Feeling as if she had lured him into a honey trap with the skills of an ancient siren. Lured him into something he’d been having second thoughts about and then delivered something he hadn’t been expecting.

  All through dinner he had acknowledged the powerful chemistry sizzling between them, but during their walk on the beach he had forced good sense to prevail. As the soft sand had ridged between his bare toes, he had silently listed the reasons why making love to Marnie Porter was a bad idea—and there were plenty. They were strangers. They were from different worlds. It was why he hadn’t kissed her. Why he had walked chastely by her side even though he had been aching with desire and frustration, and her body language had indicated she felt the same way.

  Yet as the throbbing in his groin had become unbearable, he had wondered just who he was protecting. Just because he’d never done a casual hookup before, didn’t mean it couldn’t happen. He wanted it and she wanted it. Where was the problem? They were both adults. But he’d assumed she was similarly experienced. Why wouldn’t he? He had always steered clear of virgins—and for precisely the reasons she had sarcastically joked about. Because women didn’t just give their innocence to a passing stranger, did they—not without wanting something in return? Especially when the stranger in question possessed riches beyond most people’s wildest dreams.

  His mouth flattened. Maybe he was the one who was being naïve, not her. Maybe she did know his true identity and she had been saving herself for someone from whom she could reap some very attractive benefits. Someone with money. He shook his head. Wouldn’t it be almost easier if that were the case? If he were able to place her into the well-worn compartment in his life labelled gold-digger? But deep down he didn’t really believe that. There was something too proud about her to let him believe she was motivated by greed.

  Yet whatever her intentions had been, it mustn’t happe
n again. Because for all her bravado, Leon had detected an unmistakable trace of tenderness when she had opened her arms to him. And because he hadn’t been expecting that either, it had thrown him. He had briefly lost himself in her softness, disorientated by a swirl of conflicting and unrecognisable emotions, which had troubled him. He was the only man she’d ever had sex with, he reminded himself, and, despite her insolence towards him afterwards, she would inevitably read too much into it. Women always did. They were experts at seeing what they wanted to see. At obscuring and manipulating the truth if it didn’t fit in with their own needs.

  His jaw tightened. Hadn’t he learnt that to his own detriment—and hadn’t the fallout turned him into a man who had been accused too often of having a lump of ice for a heart? He was certainly not the kind of person this little innocent should be associating with.

  So he would make her realise she would be better off without him. And the sooner she was out of his life, the sooner he would forget her.

  Digging into the back pocket of his jeans for his keys, he turned to her—steeling himself against the soft quivering bow of her lips, made silver by the starlight. ‘Grab your helmet, Marnie,’ he instructed coldly. ‘I’ll take you back to the hotel.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘MARNIE, YOU’RE GOING to have to do an emergency manicure!’

  Marnie glanced up, emerging from the uncomfortable swirl of her thoughts to focus on her boss, a wiry and very dynamic Scotswoman called Jodie, who had worked on Paramenios for almost a decade. It was Jodie who’d been responsible for getting her this prestigious summer job on a Greek island and Jodie who had persuaded her salon in London to allow her to have unpaid leave for the summer so she could double or even triple her salary in this luxury resort. Thus it was important not to annoy someone who’d done her a number of favours. But, really, how on earth could a manicure ever be described as an emergency?

  ‘Can’t someone else do it?’ Marnie questioned. ‘I’m not feeling that great, to be honest.’

  ‘Yeah, I can tell. You look terrible,’ said Jodie bluntly. ‘What happened?’

  Marnie bit her lip, because how could she possibly confide the reason for her washed-out appearance or inability to concentrate for most of the morning? She could just imagine Jodie’s reaction if she explained that yesterday she’d met a gorgeous stranger, had let him take her to dinner—then ended up losing her virginity to him on a beach. Or that he’d dropped her off near her staff accommodation without even a farewell kiss to remember him by. And hadn’t that bit hurt the most of all, even though she’d tried to convince herself it didn’t matter? He’d been deep inside her body in the most intimate of ways and that didn’t even warrant a goodnight kiss.

  She’d spent the rest of the night tossing and turning in her narrow bed, unable to get rid of the memory of Leon as he had ridden her to fulfilment. She kept remembering the way she had cried out in rapture. She’d lain there in the claustrophobic staff accommodation, beating herself up about her behaviour—until the morning light had helped her put things in perspective.

  She had been foolish and impulsive in a way which was totally out of character, that was all. She’d been living on her nerves since Pansy’s arrest and maybe it was inevitable that sooner or later something was bound to give. But she hadn’t hurt anyone—except perhaps herself—and she was going to draw a very firm line under the whole episode. The sex had been amazing—she wasn’t going to deny that—but it wasn’t going to lead anywhere. She was never going to see Leon again—he’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t want to, and she had pretended she felt the same. And even though she had just been saving face, it was probably a good thing they weren’t on schedule for a repeat performance. Because Leon Kanonidou had made her feel...vulnerable, and vulnerability had no place in her life. Didn’t she have enough on her plate, without pining after some boho biker who probably slept with a different woman every night of the week?

  She could feel her cheeks growing hot as she met Jodie’s curious stare. ‘I just didn’t sleep very well last night,’ she said truthfully. ‘I think a mosquito must have got into the room because every time I closed my eyes I could hear that awful high-pitched whining sound buzzing around the room.’

  Jodie shuddered. ‘Tell me about it. I hate mosquitos. Get some of the spray they sell in the hotel shop—the one with the red label. I know it’s expensive but it works wonders.’

  ‘I will. Though I’m not sure it’s great for the lungs. Anyway—’ Marnie forced a smile ‘—who’s this manicure for?’

  Her nails glinting coral in the bright Greek sunshine, Jodie glanced down at her clipboard. ‘One of the women in that party who’ve taken over the western side of the hotel. You know—the billionaire who’s having the birthday celebrations. Her name is Ariane Paparizou and she’s requested a mini manicure. Poolside.’

  ‘And when does she want it?’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ Jodie pulled a comic face. ‘Like yesterday? You know what these wealthy women are like.’

  Marnie nodded. She certainly did. A few seemed like perfectly decent people but many of them were spoiled and, in her experience, nearly all of them were demanding. So she tidied her hair, checked her portable nail kit and then made her way through the sprawling Paradeisos complex towards the upmarket Ouranos section. She’d never actually done a treatment here before—Jodie usually kept the jobs with the greatest tip potential for herself—and ordinarily Marnie might have been excited at the thought of having a peek round this most exclusive area of the hotel. But today didn’t feel ordinary. Not at all. She still had that strange feeling of being disconnected from her own body. As if being given two orgasms in quick succession by a man she barely knew had shaken the foundations of her world and made her realise she didn’t really know herself very well at all.

  Abundant pink and white flowers framed the interconnecting buildings surrounding the different-sized swimming pools which made the Ouranos complex so distinct, though naturally it had its own private beach. It was just unfortunate that the thought of any kind of beach made Marnie want to shudder. It made her think of grains of sand falling onto the floor of her tiny shower cubicle and swirling down the plughole as she’d tried to wash away the memories of Leon’s lovemaking. But his scent had clung stubbornly to her hair and her skin and it had taken a full twenty minutes of fierce scrubbing before she’d finally felt free of him and able to fall into bed last night.

  She could hear the chink of glasses and as she approached, her gaze took in the kind of scene which looked like an advertiser’s dream. Around a vast azure pool stood a cluster of rich and beautiful people—all speaking in Greek and laughing while waiters topped up their crystal goblets with champagne. Several of the women lay sprawled on sun loungers and they were all wearing tiny scraps of swimwear which looked hugely expensive. But that was because they were. Marnie had seen the discreet price tags in the hotel boutique and marvelled at the fact that anyone would ever spend that much on a bikini.

  From beneath the wide brim of her straw hat, one of the women spotted her and lifted her hand in careless greeting. ‘Ah! My manicurist is here. At last!’ she exclaimed, in perfect if slightly dramatic English. ‘Never has the sight of someone been so welcome!’

  Everyone turned to stare at her, their voices growing silent as Marnie walked towards the group. Finding herself the unwilling focus of attention made it difficult to avoid becoming self-conscious as she moved across the terrace. She was dimly aware of the women’s collective beauty and that the men were all tall and devastatingly handsome. But her unease quickly became acute as the identity of one of the guests seared itself onto her disbelieving brain and at first she thought it must be some sort of mirage. Please, no, she thought. Please don’t do this to me. She could feel the savage pounding of her heart as she risked a glance towards the most captivating member of the group and could see that her prayers hadn’t been answered.
r />   Because it was Leon.

  Leon the biker, who’d picked her up on the beach.

  Lion-like Leon, to whom she’d given her virginity.

  But this Leon looked nothing like the man she’d kissed so passionately last night while his fingers had been playing a rhapsody between her legs. Today there were no faded denims. No close-fitting black T which caressed his ripped torso—and definitely no sign of a dusty old motorbike. He wore an expensive linen shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and navy swim shorts. His black hair was tamed and sleek, not windswept and ruffled. He was looking cool and immaculate, yes—but his head-turning qualities were due to much more than his rugged good looks and muscular body, for he radiated power and privilege in the way that only the truly wealthy ever could. Marnie wanted to look away but somehow she couldn’t. She was mesmerised by those eyes which rivalled the sky behind him, for they were dominating her line of vision and burning into her like blue fire. Was his expression mocking her, she wondered, or was he just acutely embarrassed to see her here?

  Awkwardly, she moved towards the woman who was beckoning her with a rather impatient finger, and realised that if she didn’t get it together, she would start stockpiling complaints about her lack of professionalism—and that was the last thing she could afford to happen. But the efficient smile she was usually able to summon up at will for clients seemed to have deserted her. ‘Ariane Paparizou?’ she croaked.

  ‘That’s me! Don’t just stand there. Come and sit down.’ Ariane turned her head with a swish of a glossy black ponytail and flashed the onlookers a wide smile. ‘I’m sure the others don’t mind watching while...what’s your name, dear?’

  ‘Marnie.’

  ‘While Marnie works her magic on me!’ A small chair beside the lounger was patted and Marnie padded her way over to it, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Wishing she’d never met him. Wishing she were anywhere other than here. Taking the colour swatch of varnishes from her little bag, she splayed it out for Ariane’s attention, but her head was buzzing with questions which seemed impossible to answer.