The Greek Millionaire's Marriage (5 page)

She stared at him, aghast. ‘You're kidding!'

‘Never been more serious.'

‘But…but that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard—!'

‘No, Olivia. People would believe it. We could put on a good show—'

‘No!'
She went pale at the thought of the kind of show he envisaged.

‘You could throw things at me in private,' he offered, his mouth twitching with a horribly appealing humour.

‘I'd find it hard not to throw
up
in public,' she muttered.

He chuckled. ‘I'll provide you with medication to prevent that. It'll be worth your while. The quickest divorce in Greek history.'

‘That appeals,' she conceded. ‘But pretending to love you…!'

‘Bizarre thought, isn't it?' he said cheerfully. ‘But think of the end result. If I'm willing to suffer
you
, I don't see why you shouldn't suffer
me
.'

She scowled, bridling at his comment. Was she that awful to live with? ‘That's because you'll enjoy making me simper over you. Whereas I'll hate every moment.'

Even as she said that, she knew she wasn't being entirely honest with herself. And she knew that her protest had sounded half-hearted.

‘Olivia.' Dimitri had put on his most coaxing, satiny voice. And while she knew that he was insincere, she still felt inescapably seduced by it. ‘We could do one another a good turn. Perhaps even part without rancour. I need you to agree, to get Eleni off my back. If it seems that we are together once more then Eleni, her father and my mother would have to accept that fact.'

‘Would they?'

He leaned forward earnestly, fixing her reluctant gaze with his. ‘They couldn't in all conscience come
between man and wife,' he argued. ‘They would immediately set their sights on some other man. The result would be that Eleni wouldn't lose face and she'd detach herself from me without a showdown. She's a nice enough kid underneath. Just…young, spoilt and raw around the edges. Her feelings would be saved from hurt, and my employees will be secure in their jobs.' His thick lashes lowered and lifted lazily. ‘You wouldn't like to see people on the poverty line because you can't be bothered to give this a try, would you?'

‘Don't use emotional blackmail on me!' she cried indignantly. ‘You'll be telling me next that if I don't agree hundreds of people will be begging for grass cuttings to eat—while entire families throw themselves off high buildings—'

‘A slight overstatement.' He chuckled in delight. Olivia was mesmerised by his laughing mouth, and he must have known this because he leaned even closer. ‘However,' he murmured, ‘I can definitely foresee employment problems if I insult Eleni and her father by rejecting her as a bride. In Greece we defend family honour. As I said, the very least my partner could do would be to cut our business ties, causing untold devastation to the Angelaki empire. You can do this, Olivia—'

‘You're wrong! I can't!' she protested, scared stiff of being close to him for any length of time.

Already a wicked little voice was urging her to agree so that she could be with him. Yet she didn't trust her seesaw emotions and had no intention of falling for him all over again.

‘You can,' he coaxed. ‘It won't be for long. When Eleni is safely off the scene, you can slip away a free woman and never see me again. It won't be a difficult
task to pretend you love me.' His tone grew cynical. ‘You managed it for six months while we were married, after all.'

Olivia hardly registered that, her brain refusing to move into gear. ‘It's…horribly manipulative.'

‘Thank you! I'm flattered.' Flashing his white teeth at her again, he raised his glass to her and then drained it.

His mouth was moist and relaxed. Olivia stared at it, mesmerised, imagining them together again. Pretending…

‘How…?' She grabbed her own glass and took a hasty gulp to ease the dryness of her throat. ‘How long might this take?'

‘I'd hope two weeks. Maximum. Take time off work—'

‘I'm between jobs,' she said, and could have kicked herself when he beamed.

‘No big deal, then, is it? You don't even have to lie about your feelings. Just a puppy-dog look here, a sigh there…' Enthusiastically he tackled the vegetables on his plate, pushing them into the exotic sauce and closing his eyes in ecstasy. ‘Bliss,' he sighed and then his black lashes lifted, his eyes burning holes in her.

She had the unnerving impression that he wasn't talking about the food, but the prospect of having her dancing to his tune.

‘I don't think so,' she muttered.

‘It is. Try it,' he said, choosing to misunderstand her.

His fork hovered close to her mouth. Bemused, she opened her lips before she realised she was playing into his hands. The fish melted in her mouth, the velvety sauce stimulating her tastebuds. Dimitri's eyes melted into hers, stimulating every other sense she possessed.

It seemed that the electrified air sizzled and crackled between them, connecting their bodies in a fatal circuit. Feeling faint, she reached for her glass, realising as she sipped frantically that somehow it had been refilled.

Her head whirled. Whether that was from alcohol or the nearness of Dimitri, she didn't know. Only that she had to cut this cosy tête-à-tête short before she found herself leaning forward a fraction more and…

‘Olivia.'

She swallowed as the throaty tones vibrated deep inside her. Music swirled erotically about them, the insistent rhythm eating into her brain. In an agonisingly tender gesture, his hand touched her cheek in a light caress and her eyes closed against her will.

‘Are you afraid,' he said softly, ‘that we would end up in bed together?'

Her eyes shot open. ‘No!' she lied in an awful squeak.

‘Then you have no reason to refuse,' he said, casually peeling a leaf from his artichoke and dipping it in butter.

She watched, hypnotised, as he delicately sucked the butter off and slipped the fleshy part of the leaf into his mouth. His challenging smile made her blood boil. He thought she'd be good for a quick lay. The arrogance of the man! Maybe she did keep falling for his practised seduction techniques. But she hadn't actually succumbed.

It would give her the greatest satisfaction to prove that he wasn't the irresistible Lothario he imagined. All she needed to do was to remember he had at least one illegitimate child—and that he thought women were merely toys, designed for his pleasure. That would
keep her from making a fool of herself over a man who could well be a serial adulterer.

She hated him, after all.

In genuine disgust, she gave a shudder, as if she was repelled by the thought of spending time with Dimitri.

‘My only hesitation is that I'd have to pretend to like you,' she said, grimly attacking her fish, stabbing it with her fork as though it might be his body. ‘And what about your mother? She won't be too pleased.'

‘She thinks badly of you for leaving me,' he agreed. ‘But she must learn that I run my own life. One day I might fall in love. She must be fully prepared to accept the woman I love, whoever and whatever she is. I want my mother's blessing when that time comes.'

Olivia winced. Something tore in her chest. Jealousy, she supposed. Dog-in-the-manger. How small-minded of her. She didn't want him but couldn't bear to think of him being in love.

She wondered if he wanted to marry Athena and legitimise his child. Or if he had grown tired of her and discarded her long ago.

It was hard to think, what with the heavy beat of the music and her scattered wits.

‘I don't know…'

‘Do this, or I'll see to it that our divorce takes years to settle,' he said in a steely tone.

Her heart sank. He meant every word—and had the money and power and ruthlessness to carry out his threat.

‘You are an opportunistic swine!' she muttered.

‘That's right.'

It annoyed her that he had the upper hand. It didn't matter to him if they were divorced or not—in fact it had probably kept Eleni from demanding that he set a
wedding date. Olivia glowered, feeling like kicking something. Preferably Dimitri. She wanted to get her divorce signed, sealed and delivered so that her new life could begin. Perhaps two weeks swooning over Dimitri wasn't too much to ask.

‘I need to think this over.' Suddenly feeling fragile and desperately vulnerable, she pushed her plate away.

‘Of course.'

He nodded and they ate their puddings in silence. Or, at least, he did. Trying to remain objective, she toyed with her
bougatsa
, even though it was her favourite dessert, and considered his extraordinary suggestion.

Everything was conspiring to make her say ‘yes'. Despite seeing no other way to make him do what she wanted, the music had somehow tapped into her emotions. The food reminded her of the exotic tastes she'd enjoyed so much. And above all, there was that beautiful country waiting outside.

If she did have to remain in Greece for a while then she had to admit that it would be lovely to stay at his mansion, even if she had to play the loving wife to do so. She loved the old Venetian house and had missed it with a deep ache in her heart that had astonished her. But it was perfect. The views across the Saronikos Gulf were spectacular, the furnishings luxurious and comfortable, yet the ultimate in good taste.

Every day she could revisit the places she adored. The little town of Nafplion, with its Venetian houses and fountains and squat fortresses guarding the harbour. The golden beaches and savage crags, the spectacular ruins of ancient Greece and Rome atop verdant hills, every path and stone richer in drama and history than anywhere else in the whole of Greece.

It was the land of Agamemnon and Helen of Troy. Of Hercules, gods and goddesses. Magical.

She thought of the silent glades and crystal-clear rivers, the intoxicating scent of the wild flowers and the inviting warmth of the sea, as deep a blue as her eyes, Dimitri had murmured once.

All this she had lost and mourned because of his infidelity. For two short weeks it could be hers again, to record on her camera and to smile over in future days when the hurt and emotion had become just a distant memory.

‘Come.' His hand was on her arm and she was rising blindly, obediently from her seat. ‘I think we both need a shot of coffee,' he murmured, guiding her to the salon.

In the doorway he spoke briefly in Greek to the waiter, who was arranging a tray of coffee and chocolate peppermints on a low table inlaid with mosaics. The evocative sound of Maria Callas singing of her lover's betrayal in the opera
Madame Butterfly
filled the room, the plaintive, soaring pure notes reaching deep into Olivia's wounded heart and tearing relentlessly at her emotions.

‘Olivia, we don't have much time. Have you come to a decision?' Dimitri asked quietly, turning her around to face him.

She looked up at him and hastily averted her eyes. But she could smell that masculine aftershave and could feel his power energising her. He was too close for comfort. Any moment now and she'd lift her face for a kiss—and be thoroughly humiliated by her lack of sense. Panic jerked at her. Anxious to escape to the safety of a chair, she blurted out suddenly, ‘Yes. I'll do it.' And added in defiance, ‘For me, not for you.'

He smiled, the corners of his lips curving appealingly. And, oh, she could drown in those velvety eyes. At that moment she panicked, worrying that she'd committed herself to something she couldn't handle.

‘For you?'

Aware of the danger she'd risk if she continued to look up at him, she coolly focused on the third button of his shirt. ‘Why not?' she replied, miraculously assuming a casual air. ‘It'll be a nice holiday. Luxurious surroundings, use of a car—which I insist on—and the chance to explore.'

‘I will spare no expense in amusing you,' he drawled. He had been right. She could be bought. Almost every woman had her price, it seemed. Disappointment wiped out his pleasure at having her in his power. ‘In return, you must give me your word you'll do this. That you won't back out. I have to know my plan has every chance of succeeding.'

Her eyes flicked up then; the darkest aquamarine like the sea at the mouth of the caves on the east coast of the Olympos promontory. Enticing. Fathomless.

‘Shake on it,' he said, more curtly than he'd intended, and he put out his hand. ‘Swear that you will see this through to the end.'

‘I promise.'

Hesitantly her fingers touched his palm and then her hand had slid into his.

It wasn't what he'd intended—not yet—but he found himself drawing her close until she lay in the circle of his arms. Warning voices were telling him that he could scare her off at this delicate stage, but to his surprise he discovered that he wasn't capable of holding back.

Suddenly they were kissing. Hot, frantic kisses that
burned and seared. Their hands were clutching and possessing, bodies crushed together in a desperate need for every inch to be touched and caressed and relieved of terrible, unsatisfied hungers.

Their mutual lack of finesse startled him, he who'd always been so proud of his skills at wooing a woman and the smoothness of his approach as he coaxed and kissed his way to his goal. But his feelings were overwhelming him, shutting down his brain, his mind focused only on the glorious sensation of her plush mouth on his, her body fitting into him as if they had been made for one another.

His mouth found the soft warmth of her throat and she flung her head back with a groan of sheer pleasure. The shock of her beauty ripped through him. She was so lovely that it hurt, great, scything shafts of pain slicing him from head to toe.

His weight moved her backwards till she hit the panelled wall with a dull thud. Slipping his hand down, he pushed up her skirt and let his fingers enjoy the softness of her thigh. With a little shudder, she raised her leg and hooked it around his back. Hardly able to contain his excitement, he concentrated on lifting her T-shirt over her head.