The World's Most Notorious Greek (Mills & Boon Modern) Read online

  JACKIE ASHENDEN writes dark, emotional stories, with alpha heroes who’ve just got the world to their liking only to have it blown wide apart by their kick-ass heroines. She lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, the inimitable Dr Jax, two kids and two rats. When she’s not torturing alpha males and their gutsy heroines she can be found drinking chocolate martinis, reading anything she can lay her hands on, wasting time on social media or being forced to go mountain biking with her husband. To keep up to date with Jackie’s new releases and other news sign up to her newsletter at jackieashenden.com.

  Also by Jackie Ashenden

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  Shocking Italian Heirs miniseries

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  The Royal House of Axios miniseries

  Promoted to His Princess

  The Most Powerful of Kings

  Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

  The World’s Most Notorious Greek

  Jackie Ashenden

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  ISBN: 978-0-008-91379-3

  THE WORLD’S MOST NOTORIOUS GREEK

  © 2021 Jackie Ashenden

  Published in Great Britain 2021

  by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

  By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Note to Readers

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  This one is for Damerel and Venetia.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Booklist

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Note to Readers

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  Extract

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  WILLOW HALL HAD never seen a naked man before. Or at least, not one that wasn’t on her computer screen when she’d inadvertently looked up the wrong thing on the internet. And definitely not coming boldly out of the lake he’d been swimming in only moments before, as if he didn’t much care if there was anyone around to see him or not.

  Of course, given the fact that the lake was on the Thornhaven estate’s grounds and therefore private property, he probably wouldn’t expect there to be someone lurking in the undergrowth at the lake’s edge watching him.

  Then again, this was private property and, even though Thornhaven had been vacant for the past few months following the old owner’s death, it was clear that he was trespassing.

  Not that it made her invasion of his privacy any less egregious, and not that she was technically any less a trespasser than he was, but still. She lived next door to the estate and had been walking the grounds for years, had played in the woods nearby as a child, had loved the overgrown, rambling nature of the estate ever since she could remember, and, even though it wasn’t actually her property, she viewed it as such.

  She’d certainly never expected to come across someone swimming in the lake when she’d set out blackberry picking this morning, still less swimming naked.

  She should really do the right thing and move on. Visit the groundskeeper and tell him that there was a stranger in the lake. She really shouldn’t be standing here peering through the trees like some pervert in an anorak.

  Yet she didn’t move.

  Something held her rooted to the spot. Because the water was cascading over his naked body as he stepped from the lake, the late morning summer sun gilding his already golden skin, making an art form of every chiselled muscle. He was tall, with broad shoulders and lean hips. Long, powerfully muscled legs. His chest and stomach looked as if they’d been carved from marble as an example of the perfect masculine form, all hard planes and perfect hollows.

  His hair was black, slick as a seal’s, and as he walked slowly out of the water he lifted his hands and pushed it back from his forehead, biceps flexing with the movement.

  Oh, lord...

  Willow’s mouth went dry, an inexplicable heat creeping through her, making her cheeks burn. This was very wrong. It wasn’t the kind of thing she did at all. Maybe once, back when she’d been a teenager and much more prone to the vagaries of curiosity and her own wild passions, she wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but certainly not now.

  She was twenty-five, for God’s sake, and she’d put those days behind her.

  Yet somehow her feet wouldn’t move, and she found she was clutching on to her basket full of blackberries, her fingers itching with the unfamiliar need to touch him, to trace the lines of all those intriguing muscles just to make sure he was real, because surely someone that beautiful couldn’t be. She’d certainly never seen a man like this one, still less met anyone who looked the way he did, not in the cafe where she worked in Thornhaven village, or indeed anywhere in the village, full stop.

  This man was like one of the Greek sculptures in her father’s books on art history, the very pinnacle of male beauty, except all that travertine marble had been made flesh.

  She didn’t move, forgetting to breathe, the sunlight lovingly following every flex and release of his muscles as he bent over the small pile of clothes lying on the gravel
ly beach. He picked up a dark blue T-shirt then, as he straightened, Willow’s heart beat even faster as he began to towel himself roughly off.

  Her gaze drifted lower, over his lean hips and muscled thighs, to that most male part of him...

  Her cheeks were so hot they felt scalded.

  She should definitely not be looking at that.

  What she should be doing was getting back to the cottage she lived in with her father, because she didn’t like to leave him for too long. He’d had a stroke nine years ago that had left him extremely physically limited and very much dependent on her. Which he hated. But there was nothing either of them could do about that since there was no one else to look after him. She was his sole caregiver and it was a duty she took extremely seriously.

  So she needed to stop staring and move on.

  He’d started wiping down that incredible chest, his head bent, his profile as perfect as the rest of him. High forehead and straight nose. Cheekbones to die for and a strong, square jaw. His mouth was beautifully shaped and sensual, curving slightly, as if he knew something very wicked and utterly delightful...

  Curiosity tightened inside her and she wanted very much to know what that something was.

  Weren’t you supposed to move on?

  Yes, that was exactly what she’d been going to do. And she would. Right now.

  ‘You’ll get a better view from over there,’ the man said casually, nodding at the bank directly in front of him.

  Willow froze. His voice was as deep and rich as textured velvet, his accent aristocratic and yet with a lilt that suggested he’d spent a lot of time in places other than England. It tugged at something inside her, something she hadn’t known was there.

  She ignored the sensation, staying very still. He couldn’t be talking to her, surely? She was hidden by the bushes and there was no way he could have spotted her. He hadn’t even looked in her direction.

  Perhaps he was talking to someone else. Someone she hadn’t seen. Or maybe he was talking on his phone. But no, that was stupid. He’d just come out of the lake and, given his current level of nakedness, it was very obvious he wasn’t carrying a phone.

  ‘It was your hair, by the way,’ he went on, unhurriedly bending once again to the small pile of clothes and picking up a pair of plain black boxer shorts. ‘If you were wondering what gave you away. It’s very bright. I would suggest covering it with a scarf or hat next time you want to hide in the bushes and spy on someone.’

  Oh, dear. He was talking to her.

  A tide of intense embarrassment washed over her, heating her entire body in a way she hadn’t felt for years. It made her feel as if she were a kid again, helpless shame filling her as her father spoke to her in that cold, quiet voice. The voice he only used when she’d done something wrong.

  You have done something wrong. You intruded on this man’s privacy.

  A quick, bright anger at herself flickered inside her, and she caught her breath at the unexpected heat of it. But no. She wasn’t going to get angry. That wouldn’t help. Her emotions were dangerous things and she needed to keep her distance from them.

  What she had to do now was own up to her indiscretion, give him an apology, then promise that it would never happen again.

  Willow took a silent breath, forcing down the hot tangle of unwanted emotion that sat in her gut, then stepped out from behind the bush.

  The beautiful man straightened, still naked, T-shirt in one hand, his underwear in the other. He didn’t seem at all embarrassed or self-conscious. Then again, he had nothing to be self-conscious or embarrassed about.

  He was quite simply the most magnificent thing Willow had ever seen in her entire life.

  His eyes were a deep, dark, midnight blue and the instant his gaze met hers she felt an almost physical impact, like a short, sharp electric shock. All the air left her lungs and her mind went utterly blank.

  Then he smiled and she forgot where she was. She forgot who she was. Because that smile was warm and wicked and sensual all at the same time, and it made her feel hot and oddly feverish, though she had no idea why. She had no idea why a simple smile could do all those things to her.

  He’s dangerous.

  The thought came out of nowhere, instinctive, though it didn’t make any sense. Because he wasn’t being threatening and she wasn’t getting any strange vibes off him. He was simply standing there, smiling at her.

  ‘Would you like to keep on looking?’ Amusement glittered in his deep blue eyes. ‘Or shall I dress?’

  Willow struggled to get her brain working, her thought processes sluggish, as if they were mired in melted toffee. ‘I do apologise,’ she said in a scratchy voice. ‘I heard the sounds of splashing and came to see what was happening.’ Then, because, after all, he shouldn’t be here, she added, ‘You are aware that this is private property?’

  The amusement in his eyes seemed to deepen. ‘Oh, yes, I’m aware. That is the whole point of trespassing, isn’t it?’

  So...this was deliberate? That didn’t make any sense. Why would he deliberately break the law? Wasn’t he worried that she would report him? But he didn’t look worried. He didn’t look worried about anything at all, which didn’t seem fair. Especially when she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning.

  She drew herself up to her not inconsiderable height, aware in the same moment that he was very much taller than she was, which didn’t help her irritation. It didn’t help either that he made not the slightest effort to cover himself or even dress.

  ‘Well,’ she said coolly, ‘I suggest that you stop trespassing, get dressed, and leave the property. The groundskeeper here isn’t very welcoming and he might decide to call the police.’

  ‘Noted,’ the man said, dry as dust. ‘Are you the owner perhaps?’

  ‘No. I’m the neighbour. I have permission.’ Which was true. Her father and the previous owner of Thornhaven—the late Duke of Audley—used to be friends before the Duke had become a recluse, and they’d had an understanding about Willow’s childhood rambles. It had suited her father to have her out of the house, because he found her a disruption.

  ‘I see.’ The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with an oddly wicked light. ‘So have you finished looking?’

  Willow’s blush returned, though she ignored it as fixedly as she’d ignored it the first time. If he could be perfectly calm about this, then so could she.

  ‘Yes, I believe so.’ She threw him a disapproving look. ‘There’s not much to look at after all.’

  She expected him to be annoyed or even a little chagrined. He was not.

  Instead, he laughed, and the sound hit her like a shock, wrapping around her, deep and dark as melted chocolate. And all she could think was that she’d never heard anyone laugh like that. In fact, it had been a long time since she’d heard anyone laugh at all.

  ‘Far be it from me to disagree,’ he said, ‘but the blush in your cheeks would seem to indicate otherwise.’

  Oh, yes, he’s very dangerous.

  That laugh of his was still resounding through her entire body, like she was a tuning fork he’d just struck, and she couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t understand her response to him at all. She only knew that some instinct inside her was urging her to get away from him and as quickly as possible.

  However, Willow had given up listening to her instincts, because they were always wrong. And besides, running away would be to acknowledge that this man had got to her in some way, and she could never allow that.

  ‘The blush in my cheeks has more to do with being suddenly accosted by a naked stranger than anything else,’ she said. ‘You could put on your shorts, you know.’

  He raised one straight dark brow. ‘You could also turn around.’

  Willow ignored the burning in her cheeks. ‘It’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it?’

  ‘Indeed.�
�� The glitter of amusement in his eyes changed, shifting into something else, something more intense. ‘In that case you won’t mind if I take my time about it.’ He tilted his head again and, though his gaze didn’t move from her face, she felt as if he’d scanned every inch of her body. ‘Feel free to resume blackberry picking. Or you could stay and watch me dress. Either isn’t a problem for me.’

  She opened her mouth to tell him that she certainly wouldn’t be staying, but he didn’t wait for her to respond, instead turning and going over to where a pair of black running shorts and expensive-looking running shoes sat. Then he began to dress in an unhurried fashion.

  His movements had an athletic grace to them that held her oddly mesmerised and she realised after a couple of moments that, far from resuming her blackberry picking as she’d fully intended, she was in fact standing there doing exactly the opposite.

  This was ridiculous.

  ‘I’m going now,’ she announced, both to herself and to him.

  He didn’t respond, bending to tie the laces of his running shoes, black hair gleaming in the sun.

  Yet her feet wouldn’t move. It was as if her body had a mind of its own and what it wanted was to stay near him, which made no sense whatsoever. She’d had a couple of crushes on boys back in high school, but not since. She didn’t have either the time or the inclination for such things, not when her primary focus was looking after her father and earning enough money to cover their expenses. That was far more important than mooning over some man, so why she was still here, fascinated by this particular man, she had no idea.

  He rose again, his T-shirt still in one hand. He made no move to put it on and when he turned to face her, his incredible golden body still mostly on show, he didn’t smile.

  And all of a sudden Willow was certain that the danger she’d sensed from him before was about to make itself known and bizarrely, instead of fear, a sensation that felt a lot like excitement curled through her.