by Kate Hewitt
Milly pushed open his bedroom door and then stepped into the sparsely furnished room—a king-sized bed on a low dais with rumpled sheets and duvet, the indentation where his head had lain still visible on his pillow. There were no ornaments or knick-knacks, no photos or mementoes. There never had been, in her six months there.
The room was luxurious and as impersonal as could be, like something found in a high-end hotel. Milly began to strip the bed, her methodical movements belying the sudden thud of her heart, her dry mouth. Why was she being affected this way?
Unthinkingly she slipped off the pillowcase he’d used and pressed it to her face, inhaling an unfamiliar musky and very male scent. She was still holding it when her mobile phone began to vibrate, and she jumped like a scalded cat, dropping the pillowcase.
Her hands near to shaking, Milly slid her phone from the pocket of her jeans and glanced down at the screen. Anna. All thoughts of pillowcases and the head that had lain on them vanished as she swiped to take the call.
‘Anna? Are you okay?’ As ever Milly couldn’t keep the anxiety from her voice as soon as she spoke with her sister. Her situation was so precarious, and she was so very young.
‘I’m fine, Milly.’ Anna’s voice was quiet, a little sad. Milly knew she hated living with her father, Milly’s stepfather—one of them, anyway—and Milly couldn’t blame her. The situation was dire, and there was nothing she’d been able to do about it. Carlos Bentano kept custody of his only child more out of a cruel whim than any love or affection on his part.
‘Good.’ Milly walked away from Alex’s bed, gazing out at the sparkling sea. ‘I was hoping you could come visit here at the end of the summer,’ she said, trying to inject a positive note into her voice, as if what she was suggesting could really happen. ‘For a few weeks at least...’
‘If he lets me,’ Anna said quietly, her voice filled with doubt, and Milly sighed. Carlos Bentano and Milly’s mother had married when she was fourteen and Anna just four. While their parents had been partying up with the last of their money, both penniless, minor aristocrats, Milly had been like a mother to Anna, only to be wrenched away from her four years later, after the inevitable and acrimonious divorce. In the intervening years, her contact with her stepsister had been all too fleeting; she’d seen her once or twice a year, if that, although not for lack of trying.
Carlos was just as likely to turn Milly away at the door of his dilapidated villa on the outskirts of Rome than let her in, and for no reason than it seemed to amuse him to be cruel. Meanwhile he hosted debauched parties, inviting all manner of dissolute reprobates into his home, and paid scant attention to his daughter by an earlier marriage—Anna’s mother had died when she was a baby—and was indifferently negligent of her education. Milly was desperate to get Anna away from him, and five million euros would certainly help...
But she’d said no. She’d turned Alex Santos down, and right now, listening to her sister’s voice wobble as she tried to be brave, Milly could not think why she had been so selfish.
‘Why wouldn’t he let you?’ Milly protested as brightly as she could. ‘It won’t affect him, and he might like having the house to himself for a change.’ But they both knew Carlos didn’t care about that. ‘How are things going, anyway?’ Milly asked. She talked to Anna nearly every day, but, despite these daily conversations and reassurances that she was well, Anna was never able to allay her anxiety, a knot of tension that had lodged itself in her stomach six years ago, when they’d been separated.
‘Okay,’ Anna said on a sigh. ‘He came back from the casino last night in a foul mood.’
‘Oh, Anna...’
‘I stayed out of his way, and he was gone again this morning.’
‘But what do you do?’ Milly protested. She hated the thought of her sister drifting around like a ghost in that crumbling villa all by herself, day after day, but Carlos had already refused to let Anna come to Naxos for the summer.
‘I read. Play music.’ Anna was an accomplished violinist, and Milly loved to hear her play. ‘It’s better when he’s not here. Last week...’ She stopped, and unease ran its chilly finger down Milly’s spine.
‘Last week...?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Milly.’
‘It does. Tell me, Anna, please.’
‘Why?’ Anna’s voice trembled. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
‘What happened?’ Milly demanded. ‘I need to know.’
‘It’s nothing, really.’ Anna sounded subdued now, which made Milly feel even more alarmed. ‘He had some friends over, and they got drunk. One of them came into my bedroom...’
‘What?’ Horror clogged in her throat and she tasted bile. The thought of some drunken lout in her little sister’s bedroom made her want to run all the way to Rome, as fast as she could. ‘Anna, what happened? Did he...did he try anything?’
‘No, no, he went out again. He apologised, even...’
Milly felt herself breathe a little easier, but she still felt suspicious as well as deeply afraid. She didn’t think Anna was telling her everything, and what if next time the drunken guest wasn’t so accommodating? What if her sister was in more danger than Milly had ever realised or feared? With her honey-blonde hair and big blue eyes, Anna was lovely, and just becoming a woman. She would be irresistible to some of Carlos’ debauched friends.
‘Do you have a lock on your door?’ Milly asked. ‘Because I think you should lock it. Every night.’
‘I’ve put a chair under the knob since then. Really, it’s okay, Milly.’
But it wasn’t at all okay. Milly breathed in deeply, willing herself not to cry. She didn’t want to make Anna feel worse. ‘I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Anna,’ she said softly. ‘This isn’t at all how I hoped your life would be like.’ When she’d been little, Milly had promised to take care of her. Vowed to always protect her. And now she was powerless.
She sent money when she could, and she had a savings account in Anna’s name, but there was so little she could do.
And yet with five million euros you could do so much more. You could bribe Carlos for custody, even...
‘It’s not your fault, Milly,’ Anna said. ‘And actually I was calling for another reason.’ She paused, and Milly steeled herself, hoping there wasn’t more to worry about. ‘A space has opened up at the academy,’ Anna continued hesitantly. ‘I just got the email this morning.’
‘The academy...’ Milly’s mind raced. She knew Anna had been dreaming of going to the prestigious music school in Rome for several years, but there had been no space, and, more importantly, no money. Carlos would never agree to pay for anything, and Milly couldn’t afford the fees, even with her generous salary.
‘That’s wonderful, Anna, but—’
‘I know it’s a lot,’ her stepsister continued in a quiet, intense voice. ‘And you can’t possibly pay it all, but I’ve arranged to give music lessons to some neighbours. It’s not much, but it would help—’
‘Oh, Anna.’ Milly bit her lip. She doubted her sister could make nearly enough teaching violin to make up the difference, but she couldn’t bear to disappoint her and put a stop to her dreams. ‘What does Carlos say?’
‘I haven’t told him, and I don’t plan to. He doesn’t care where I go to school, and he might refuse just because he could. Besides, he doesn’t have the money, and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t spend it on me.’
‘But...’
‘I can forge his signature. I’ve had to before, when he’s forgotten to sign forms and things. I’d leave and return home the same time every day, not that he notices. It could work, Milly. I’m sure of it. It’s just the money...’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Tears pricked Milly’s eyes as she thought of her sister desperately trying to make this dream work, and all on her own strength. She was so young, and yet far too old for her years. Milly couldn’t b
ear to think of the debauched scenes Anna must witness in her father’s home, when Carlos had his horrible friends over. And when she thought of one of those amoral men looking at Anna, coming into her bedroom...
She had to do something.
‘Thank you, Milly,’ Anna said earnestly. ‘I really appreciate it.’
‘I can’t make any promises,’ Milly felt compelled to warn, even though she wanted to promise Anna everything. ‘Send me an email with the details of the fees, okay? And I’ll try to make the numbers work.’ Although she doubted they would...not unless she had five million euros.
‘All right.’ Anna hesitated. ‘The only thing is, the space won’t be open for ever. The principale said I needed to send my deposit by the end of the week.’
‘The end of the week—’ Milly couldn’t keep the words from coming out in a squeak of dismay.
‘I’m sorry. I never dreamt a space would come up in time for me to start...’
‘Send the email,’ Milly repeated firmly. ‘I’ll look into it this afternoon, and if I can swing the fees, I’ll wire the deposit as soon as possible.’ Although it made her stomach sink to think of it. How would she be able to afford such a thing? And yet she knew she wanted to. Desperately.
How desperately?
That little voice continued with its sly whispers after Milly had ended the call. Desperately enough to marry Alex Santos? That would solve all of Anna’s problems. Do you really want to keep her safe?
Milly scrunched her eyes shut, trying to block out that whisper, but it did no good.
Well, do you? the voice mocked. Do you?
* * *
‘There is a woman here to see you, Kyrie Santos.’
Alex frowned as he listened to the disembodied voice of the receptionist on the intercom. ‘A woman? I have no appointments. You know that.’ His voice was sharp with recrimination. All the staff at his headquarters in Athens knew he didn’t take unscheduled appointments. He didn’t want prying eyes, ever. No one saw him while he was here; he had had a private entrance installed with a lift that went directly to his penthouse office. His door was always closed.
‘Yes, I know, sir...’ The woman sounded apologetic as well as uncertain. ‘But this woman insists...’
‘Insists on seeing me?’ Alex repeated in disbelief. Who on earth could it be? It didn’t matter. ‘Then you can simply tell her I am not—’
‘Insists that she is your fiancée,’ the woman corrected in an embarrassed rush. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know if...’ She trailed off uncertainly while Alex frowned at his intercom, trying to process what he’d just heard. His fiancée?
Something far too like hope flared in his chest. Milly. It had to be her. She’d changed her mind...and she’d come all the way to Athens to tell him? He was surprised as well as both gratified and curious. ‘Send her in,’ he said gruffly, and then he rose from his chair and stalked to the window, trying to control his wayward emotions.
Since leaving the villa—and Milly—they’d been in a frustrating ferment. He didn’t want to care about her refusal. He didn’t want to feel the rejection, and yet he did. He’d been stewing over it for the better part of two days, telling himself it didn’t matter even though he knew it did.
She was just a housekeeper, after all, and yet he’d wanted her. He’d wanted her to marry him, because rather surprisingly, considering how quick his decision to ask her had been, he realised he wanted her and no other. He desired her with a strength that surprised him; he’d spent the last few nights lying awake imagining his hands on her skin, his mouth... But of course their wedding night, if it happened, would be an exercise in endurance rather than an experience of passion.
With his gaze on the window and his back to his office, he heard the door open and then click softly shut, followed by a quick shudder of breath that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. She sounded as if she were steeling herself, and she probably was. He knew from experience it didn’t get any easier to look at him. Every time he glanced in the mirror it was a shock.
‘Kyrie Santos,’ she said quietly.
‘Alex,’ he reminded her. He didn’t turn from the window; no need to remind her of his scars. She was undoubtedly thinking of them already.
A heavy silence ticked on for several taut moments. ‘I’ve...reconsidered your offer,’ Milly finally said, her voice matter-of-fact and determined. ‘If it’s still open.’
Alex’s gaze rested on the skyscrapers of Syntagma Square, his heart thudding hard even as he kept his voice measured, almost toneless. ‘It is.’
‘Then I’m here to say I will marry you... Alex.’ Her voice held a tremor of emotion, perhaps fear. Was she scared of him? Or just repulsed by his scars? Maybe both, and for good reason. He hadn’t given her any real reason to respond otherwise.
‘Why have you changed your mind?’ he asked. ‘As a matter of interest?’
She took a quick, telling breath. ‘I had more time to think about it.’
‘And what did you conclude?’ He couldn’t keep a sardonic note of cynicism from entering his voice.
‘That five million euros is a very good deal,’ Milly answered after a moment, her voice ragged with honesty. ‘And it will help my sister immeasurably.’
She sounded resigned—resigned to her fate, to him. She was signing her death warrant, and why? For the sake of her sister, of course. There was no other reason. He would be something she had to endure to get what she wanted. Had he ever expected anything else? Of course he hadn’t. That was the deal he’d offered. That was what they were both getting. There was no reason to feel stung by it now. No reason at all.
‘Very well,’ Alex replied coolly. ‘Then I will have the prenuptial contract drawn up immediately. Once you’ve signed it, we can be married immediately.’
‘Immediately...’ She sounded a little dazed by the prospect.
‘There is no time to waste. I told you I wanted an heir. I’ll arrange for you to have a medical examination tomorrow morning.’ He heard her gasp but he didn’t care. So what if he’d been blunt, even crude? It was the truth.
‘But...but there’s still so much to discuss...’
‘Such as?’
He heard her swallow, and in his mind’s eye he could picture the working of her pale, slender throat, see the widening of those pansy-brown eyes, the rise and fall of her chest. ‘Lots of things. How it’s going to work, mainly, and...and what precautions will be in place...?’
‘Precautions?’ The word came out sharp.
‘I’m putting my life in your hands,’ Milly retorted, her voice just as sharp as his. ‘I need guarantees, Alex. Safeguards...’
‘Very well. Then I’ll put those in place.’
‘Can’t you turn and look at me?’ she burst out, sounding both exasperated and emotional. ‘I hate having a conversation with your back.’
He pressed his lips together, biting back the instinctive reply. I didn’t think you wanted to look at me. He wouldn’t lower himself by saying such a thing. Instead he turned around to face her, schooling his face into an expression of bored disdain.
‘Here you are. And here I am.’
‘Yes.’ She gazed at him steadily, and he saw her gulp, her gaze darting to his scars and then back again. Her face was pale, her eyes huge. ‘So now what?’
‘Now we discuss the terms. The safeguards you mentioned.’ He strode from the window and sat in one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat in the other. ‘Shall we?’
‘All right.’ Milly walked over to the chair and sat in it.
Just two days ago they’d been in his study at the villa, talking about terms in theory. And here they were again, talking about them in reality. Everything had changed because she had agreed to become his wife. They would be married. He did not feel as triumphant as he’d thought he w
ould...especially as Milly’s gaze moved over his face, sliding away from the scarred side, and her fingers trembled before she knotted them together in her lap. ‘So...?’ Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you suggest?’
‘I suggest we marry immediately,’ he answered with a shrug, purposely keeping his tone clipped, almost bored. ‘As I said before. I can have the prenuptial contract drawn up by tomorrow, and we can be married the day after. I will have the marriage licence rushed.’
Milly squared her shoulders. ‘And what would the prenuptial agreement state?’
‘That you will receive five million euros, which will be repayable to me should we divorce.’
‘Repayable?’ She blinked. ‘That’s harsh. What if you divorce me?’
‘I won’t. But, to address any worries you might have on that score, I will have it put into the contract that you will be given an additional five million euros should I wish to divorce you.’
She shook her head as a shiver went through her. ‘This is all sounding so cold.’
‘Clinical, perhaps, but not cold. It’s a business arrangement, Milly. We both know that.’
‘Yes, but...are we ever going to get to know each other, even a little? Talk properly?’
Alex suppressed a shaft of impatience. ‘We’re talking now.’
‘Properly, I said. Enjoying each other’s company as...as friends, if not anything else. Have some sort of companionship, especially if we’re going to be...to be parents.’ She choked on the word, her eyes huge. ‘And what about that? What about how we raise our child?’
‘We can discuss that in due course.’
‘But don’t you want to know me at all? Or have me know you? I mean, even just a little...’ She trailed off, searching his face—and for what?
He stared at her for a long moment, wondering if she really wanted some kind of friendship—and why. Did she really want to get to know him, or was it just a salve to her conscience, because she felt guilty for agreeing to such a businesslike marriage? It was all pointless anyway, because he had no desire to get to know her. No wish whatsoever to make this more complicated than it needed to be. More emotional, more dangerous. Desiring her physically already felt like a step too far, a need he knew he shouldn’t nurture.