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CHAPTER 1
Rowan Johnson pulled her five-year-old, ecofriendly electric compact to a stop in front of a mansion in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Athens.
The soaring stone wall that encompassed the huge property in its entirety was broken only by an imposing steel gate. Painted a sandy brown to match the stone in the wall, it was wide enough to let a delivery vehicle through. Right now, it was shut tight.
Taking a deep breath for courage, she got out of her little car. She wasn't going to back out now. This was what she wanted, and if she rightly read the way Lysander Baros, Greek billionaire and most eligible Athens bachelor, not to mention the sexiest one, looked at her, he did too.
Even if he didn't want it as much as she did, the chance to knock his half-brother down a peg might be worth it all on its own.
Rowen walked to the callbox beside the gate, stepping carefully in her three-inch heels. She wasn't dressed to go walking, or even to go out. She would never go to a club in a skirt as tight as the one on the dress she wore. Nor with a neckline as plunging.
She was dressed to seduce and hoped she'd gotten it right.
At thirty, she wasn't a virgin, but neither was she particularly experienced in the art of seduction. Married at the age of twenty and filing for divorce nine years later, there hadn't been a lot of time for her to learn. But she was ready to change that.
She was ready to show her ex, who thought the divorce had been her way of demanding fidelity, not ending their marriage, that she was moving on. And what better way than with the illegitimate half-brother who Cyrus regarded with equal parts jealousy and antipathy?
The fact that Rowan wanted Lysander in a way she'd never craved physical connection with Cyrus only made this little plan both possible and potentially pleasurable.
"Do you have an appointment?"
The voice startled Rowan out of her musings, and nearly toppled her off of her three-inch heels.
She spun around to see that while yes, there was a call box on one side of the gate like on the estate she'd once shared with her husband, there was also a security gate on the other. It was manned by a guard who looked like he knew what he was doing. She supposed that was the difference between security for a billionaire like Lysander Baros and a millionaire like his half-brother and her ex, Cyrus Andino.
"Um, no, but I think Lysander will see me." As she said the words, Rowan realized how foolish they sounded. This guard didn't know her, or that she knew Lysander.
It hadn't been very smart to come over here without calling Lysander first either. What if he was entertaining?
She knew he preferred quiet after returning from extended business trips, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have a discreet companion to welcome him home from his trip to Asia. He'd been gone seven weeks and visited five countries, with stops in multiple cities in each. A grueling schedule, even for a man like her Greek billionaire.
No, nothers. He would never be that, but he might be her lover if she handled this right.
The guard was looking at her impassively, and kudos to him for that because he had to have lots of experience turning away women who wanted a little of Lysander's time and were sure that he'd want to see them. Even if he weren't a billionaire, he would be in high demand with his square jawed good looks, wavy dark hair and utterly mesmerizing blue eyes. Not to mention a muscular body most athletes would envy.
Rowan grabbed her bag and dug out her phone. Much easier in the small, elegant bag she'd paired with her slinky designer dress than her usual hold all.
"Let me just call him and let him know I'm here," she said, looking up to give the guard a winning smile, only to find a gun trained on her.
Rowan screamed and dropped her phone.
Not a very practical reaction, she admitted, but she'd never seen a gun in person, much less had one pointed at her. Of course, she knew her security had been armed when she was married to Cyrus, but the guns had always been covered by suitcoats. Or maybe they'd worn ankle holsters?
She didn't know, and neither mattered now as she stared down the barrel of the gun still pointed at her.
Her initial shock wearing off, indignation set in, and she frowned severely at the security guard. "Why are you threatening me with a gun? How could that possibly be necessary?"
"I thought you might be going for a weapon," he said.
She didn't even try to hold back the snort of derision. "Clearly not." She pointed to the phone on the ground a few feet away. "I was trying to get my phone out so I could call Lysander and tell him I'm here."
"What is your name?" the guard asked.
"Rowan Johnson." She'd taken back her maiden name at the divorce.
The guard's expression didn't change. "Your name is not on the list."
"You haven't bothered to look at any list," she said, unimpressed.
