A Cinderella For The Greek
Fairy-tale for just one night?Cruelly mistreated by her step family, Ellen Mountford retreated to the shadows of her father’s home, feeling unworthy and unloved. But when powerful tycoon Max Vasilikos wants to buy the glorious English country estate, Ellen can hide no longer…Under the scrutiny of the Greek’s arrogant stare, Ellen fights the urge to retreat further and stands up to him, yet Max is relentless. He tempts her out to a glamorous charity gala, where Ellen is transformed from dowdy recluse, to belle of the ball. Now there is a new glint in Max’s eye that is even more devastating …seduction!
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Fairy tale for just one night?
Cruelly mistreated by her stepfamily, Ellen Mountford retreated to the shadows of her father’s home, feeling unworthy and unloved. But when powerful tycoon Max Vasilikos wants to buy the glorious English country estate, Ellen can hide no longer…
Under the scrutiny of the Greek’s arrogant stare, Ellen fights the urge to retreat further and stands up to him, yet Max is relentless. He tempts her out to a glamorous charity gala, where Ellen is transformed from dowdy recluse to belle of the ball. Now there is a new glint in Max’s eye that is even more devastating…seduction!
‘Take a look, Ellen,’ Max instructed softly.
Ellen looked.
And made no response.
She could have made no response even if someone had held a gun to her head, or shouted ‘Fire!’ She could only do what she was doing—which was staring. Staring, frozen, at the couple reflected in the mirror. At the tall, superbly elegant and dashing figure of Max Vasilikos...
And the tall, superbly elegant and stunning female at his side.
Dark ruby-red gown in lush moiré silk, wasp-waisted, flaring over her hips to flow in a waterfall of colour the full length of her legs and out into a sweeping train, its body-hugging bodice boned and darted to lift her breasts and reveal a full, generous décolletage, before fanning out over each shoulder in a splay of feathers. Curling tendrils played around her face—a face whose eyes were huge, thickly lashed and fathoms deep, whose cheeks were sculpted as if from marble, whose mouth was as lush and richly hued as damsons...
Emotion swept through Ellen. She couldn’t give a name to it—didn’t need to. She needed only to feel it rush through her, like a tide, like a river sweeping her upstream, unstoppable, irreversible, pushing everything that had been inside her head simply...out.
Because how could everything she’d thought about herself...everything that had been ground into her painful, mortified consciousness with sneering jibes and contemptuous looks...how could any of that stay now?
He turned her back to her reflection. ‘That is who you are, Ellen Mountford—you are beautiful.’
JULIA JAMES lives in England and adores the peaceful verdant countryside and the wild shores of Cornwall. She also loves the Mediterranean—so rich in myth and history, with its sunbaked landscapes and olive groves, ancient ruins and azure seas. ‘The perfect setting for romance!’ she says. ‘Rivaled only by the lush tropical heat of the Caribbean—palms swaying by a silver sand beach lapped by turquoise waters...what more could lovers want?’
Books by Julia James
Mills & Boon Modern Romance
A Tycoon to Be Reckoned With
Captivated by the Greek The Forbidden Touch of Sanguardo Securing the Greek’s Legacy Painted the Other Woman The Dark Side of Desire From Dirt to Diamonds Forbidden or For Bedding? Penniless and Purchased The Greek’s Million-Dollar Baby Bargain Greek Tycoon, Waitress Wife The Italian’s Rags-to-Riches Wife Bedded, or Wedded?
Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.
To my younger self.
Contents
MAX VASILIKOS LOWERED his tall frame into the leather chair by the desk and relaxed back into it, his long legs stretching out in front of him.
‘OK, what have you got for me?’
His UK agent handed him a set of glossy brochures. ‘I think there are some good contenders here, Mr Vasilikos,’ he said hopefully to this most demanding of clients.
Max’s dark eyes glanced briefly, and then he found his gaze lingering on only one of the properties.
An English country house, in warm honey-coloured stone, with wisteria tumbling over the porch, surrounded by verdant gardens and sheltering woodland, with a glimpse of a lake beyond the lawn. Bathed in sunshine, the whole place had an appeal that held his gaze, making him want to see the real thing.
He picked up the brochure and shifted his gaze to his agent.
‘This one,’ he said decisively.
* * *
Ellen paused in the hallway. She could hear her stepmother’s sharp voice coming from the drawing room.
‘This is exactly what I’ve been hoping for! And I will not have that wretched girl trying to spoil it—again!’
‘We’ve just got to hurry up and sell this place!’
The second voice came from Ellen’s stepsister, Chloe, petulant and displeased.
Ellen’s mouth tightened. She was all too aware of the source of their displeasure. When Pauline had married Ellen’s widowed father she and her daughter, Chloe, had had only one aim—to spend his money on the luxury lifestyle they craved for themselves. Now all that was left, after years of their lavish spending, was the house they had jointly inherited with Ellen after her father’s sudden death last year from a heart attack—and they couldn’t wait to sell it. That it was Ellen’s home, and had been in her family for generations, bothered them not in the slightest.
