Her Deal With The Greek Devil (Mills & Boon Modern) (Rich, Ruthless & Greek, Book 2) - Caitl by Caitlin Crews (english reading book .TXT) 📕

Not that his usual choice of paramour would make that clear.

His typical selections bored him, but they were beautiful. And the more vacant the woman on his arm, the more it was assumed that he, too, must also be shallow to his very core no matter how good he was at making money. He encouraged it.

Better that no one should ever see him coming.

“Since she left England to marry your father, my mother has always had one scheme or another,” Molly told him. “Before these hotels, it was her own fashion line. Before the fashion line, she fell for at least three different scams.”

He affected a vaguely sympathetic expression. “Con men abound.”

“I used to think that she just had spectacularly bad luck,” she agreed. She even smiled, though it was a cold curve of her famous lips. “Recent events have made it clear to me that no, she has one, very powerful enemy. And has always had this enemy.”

Molly glared at him. Constantine grinned.

“That sounds ghastly,” he said. “What do you suppose she might have done to gain such an enemy, if one exists?”

“Since you asked,” Molly said, folding her arms before her, “she had the terrible misfortune of believing a horrible man when he claimed to be in love with her. Only in the end, lo and behold, it turned out he was not. But she only discovered that after a disastrous marriage that came complete with two unpleasant stepsons who made her life a living hell.”

“Surely her choice of husband was the living hell she chose because it came alongside so much money,” Constantine replied, his tone as smooth as it was dark. “These bargains are always so tawdry, are they not? But tell me, what sort of woman blames her stepchildren for her venal little choices?”

“Oh, you mistake me.” Molly sounded as dark as he did, though three times as cold. And her gaze should have frozen him solid. “She doesn’t blame anyone. She doesn’t look back. But I do.”

Constantine wanted to share his thoughts on the dreadful Isabel, Molly’s mother, who should never have been permitted to set foot on Skalas property. Much less take up residence here. When all she should ever have been to Demetrius was a night’s amusement. Possibly two. Who married the housekeeper after a weekend at a business acquaintance’s old pile in the English countryside? Who then paraded about with a housekeeper on his arm?

Only Demetrius.

“Blame is such a funny thing, is it not?” he asked. “Oddly enough, I, too, have those I blame for the misfortunes that have befallen both me and my family. For my part, I find that what goes well with blame is power. For one is whining. The other is winning. And, Molly, you should know by now that I always, always win.”

“I’m tired of playing this game,” she replied, her gaze like ice. “You know that my mother is near enough to ruined and I’m on the verge of bankruptcy. You know it because you did it.”

“I have had no interaction with you whatsoever since you were a depressed teenager,” Constantine said mildly. “I suspect you are well aware that we’ve been at the same parties, from time to time, yet we somehow managed never to speak. How could I possibly be responsible for your inability to handle your finances?”

“She’s my mother, Constantine.” That was the first crack. The first hint of her emotions, and it was all he’d hoped for, a flash of deep, dark blue and that catch in her throat. “What am I supposed to do? Throw her out into the streets?”

He shrugged. “It sounds like that would be a good start if, as you say, she has had such...terrible luck.”

Molly looked down for a moment and he thought he saw the faintest hint of a fine tremor move through her. Though it was gone so quickly, he couldn’t be sure. And he didn’t want to believe she was reacting quite in that way. Constantine only wanted her to feel the things he wanted her to feel. Not fall beneath the weight of them all. Where would be the fun in that?

For him, that was.

“I assume that this is what you wanted,” she said after a moment, no sign of cracks or temper visible on her perfect face. “You left just enough clues. When I put the pieces together, it all made a kind of sick, strange sense. This whole playboy act of yours is just that. An act. You spend a lot of time and energy pretending a flashy car can turn your head and that you’re as vapid as the interchangeable women you squire about. When the truth is, you’re exactly as much of a shark as your brother, you just hide it. I’m sure you have your own, twisted reasons, as ever. I suppose it was silly of me to imagine that after making sure my teenage years were as hideous as possible, you would keep right on going.”

“I think you’ll find that teenage years, as a rule, are hideous for all.” He smiled. “Even me. Though I am interested that both you and your mother seem to have no shortage of people to blame for your misfortunes. Anyone and everyone except yourselves, is that it?”

Again, a splash of color on her porcelain cheeks, but that was all that betrayed the emotions inside her. He was more fascinated than was wise, he knew that. But knowing it didn’t change it any.

Molly regarded him as if he was the devil. It pleased him. “You set a trap and my mother walked right into it, over and over. Congratulations. Now why don’t you tell me what it is you really want?”

So many things in life did not live up to expectations, Constantine knew. Most things deemed decadent, for example. The so-called charms of the yachting set who cluttered up the Mediterranean coastlines and bored him silly. Too many Michelin-starred restaurants, forever attempting to outwit