The Greek's Penniless Cinderella
Page 9
She hadn’t answered him and he stilled, watching her. He could see the expressions moving in her eyes, her lips pressing together as if she were nerving herself to speak. He saw her swallow.
‘Do you still want to go ahead?’ she asked. Her voice was low—diffident, even.
‘If you’re asking if I’ve changed my mind, the answer is no,’ Xandros said firmly. He paused, then said what he thought she needed to hear right now, softening his voice, seeking to reassure her. ‘It will work out. I promise you. You won’t regret it. I’ll make sure of that.’
He gave a wry, quirking smile, wondering off-hand how many other women of his acquaintance would have been so hesitant about accepting an invitation to marry him...
Then he sobered. Yes, well...Rosalie’s half-sister hadn’t been that keen, had she?
Even thinking about Ariadne made him feel all over again that underlying sense of relief he’d experienced when he’d read her text. His eyes rested now on her half-sister. He wondered how he could ever have truly imagined himself capable of marrying Ariadne...
She was beautiful, yes, but never—not once—had he felt that low purring desire go through him the way it was doing now, yet again, as he sat eating brunch with Rosalie.
She was who he desired... And if she said yes now—as he hoped beyond hope she was about to do—then his desire would be richly fulfilled...
He let his gaze continue to rest on her, waiting to see what she would say. ‘Do you need more time?’ he asked, searching her face.
She gave a quick shake of her head. ‘No—no, that wouldn’t help. I...I’ve thought it all through. I can’t really think more than I’ve thought already.’
Was there a slight flush to her cheeks as she spoke? A momentary dip in her gaze? His eyes stayed on her. He was waiting for her next words. Urging her to say them, and for them to be the ones he wanted to hear.
‘So?’ he prompted.
He felt the world was holding its breath. He was holding his breath. He saw her swallow again, inhale. Lift her chin. Look right at him. Give him a quick, decisive nod.
‘Let’s do it!’ she said.
The words rushed from her, as if she might suddenly change her mind. But he would give her no chance to do so—none.
He reached for her hand, took it in his. Held it fast. ‘Good call,’ he said.
Satisfaction rushed through him, his mood soaring. And why should it not? He was getting what he wanted—everything he wanted! She was his. Life had never seemed better, nor the bright sun brighter.
He couldn’t wait to make her his wife...
* * *
‘Do you like it?’ Xandros’s voice was enquiring.
Rosalie stared at the ring on her finger, glittering with diamonds.
Was this real? Had she really said yes to the idea Alexandros Lakaris had put to her less than twenty-four hours ago?
Should I have taken more time to give him my answer?
But she’d thought it through, and through, and through. Either she said yes or she went back to her grim, bleak, poverty-stricken life in the East End of London. And she couldn’t face that—not now! Not when she’d had a glimpse of escape from it, a taste of what luxury felt like. It might be venal to look at it like that, but that was easy to say if you were rich...
The diamonds scintillated in the lights of the very exclusive jewellers she and Xandros were in. Emotion caught at her.
Mum would have loved to see this day! See this ring on my finger! She would be glad for me—thrilled for me!
That was what she must think. No one—not even her monstrous father!—would be harmed by what she was going to do. Both he and Xandros would be richer and so, in six months’ time, would she. Oh, not rich like them, but rich enough to escape for ever from the bleakness of her London life.
Mum would want that for me—I know she would!
‘If you don’t like this ring there are plenty more to choose from,’ Xandros was saying now.
She looked up at him. ‘It’s fabulous!’ she said. ‘If you think it’s necessary?’ she added doubtfully, knowing how horrendously expensive a ring like this must be.
‘Yes, it is,’ Xandros replied firmly. ‘People will expect it.’ He gave her a pointed look. ‘Rosalie, this marriage has to look genuine. I mean, it will be genuine, but there can’t be any questions about it, okay? So, like it or not, you’ll have to endure wearing it!’
His tone was light, good humoured, but she got the message. Kyria Lakaris-to-be had to look the part—right down to the priceless engagement ring now weighing upon her finger.
She felt its weight as they made their next stop—the register office—to set in motion the process of enabling them to marry. She would need her birth certificate, she discovered, and Xandros undertook to have it couriered out to Athens. The wedding would take place as soon as possible and Xandros—thankfully—had allayed the chief of her alarms.
‘We’ll keep it completely private—no guests. Not even family, okay?’
She was relieved. Having her father present would have been unendurable. Xandros had already told her that he would deal with him—she would not have to see him or have anything to do with him.
‘I’ll let him think that after throwing your tantrum yesterday—because that’s the way he’ll see it!—I’ve prevailed upon you to see the sense of what he said.’ Xandros had told her over brunch, his expression taut. ‘The rest is true enough—that I’ve whisked you away, put you up in a hotel and am now planning our wedding with all speed. As for my own interests in this...’ His tone had taken on an edge that had been audible. ‘I’ll be making it crystal clear to him that the wedding only goes ahead once I have his commitment—in writing—to the merger, and a promise that active negotiations to that end will start immediately. He will give me leave to proceed with due diligence and all the other matters the merger will require, and he will co-operate fully with all the legal processes.’
There were ‘legal processes’ between her and Xandros, too, that had to be addressed. Their next port of call was his private lawyer’s office, where Rosalie’s only protest was at how much money Xandros had stipulated in the pre-nup was to be paid in the event of their divorce—a divorce that was not going to be an ‘if’ but a ‘when’.
‘It’s far too much!’ she protested as they left.
He looked across at her. ‘Rosalie, don’t argue. If you want me to show you just how much my annual profits are projected to increase once the merger with your father goes ahead, then I shall. I am going to be a much richer man than I am now! Your payoff is worth every penny, I promise you!’
She subsided, but with an uneasy sigh. So much money... When she had been so poor...
She felt his hand take hers, as if he sensed her unease.
‘It will be okay,’ he said.
The warmth in his voice was reassuring, and reassurance, Rosalie discovered, was what she needed over the coming days.
She was to go on staying at the hotel until they married, when she would move in with Xandros. He took her to see his apartment, so she could get used to it, and she gazed about her at the spacious expanse and clean lines.
‘Not too minimalist?’ he asked.
She shook her head. It seemed very...intimate...to be here with him, alone in his apartment. Yet his manner towards her was exactly as it was in public—friendly and easy-going. Just that. She was glad, because it made her comfortable to be with him, but at the same time...
She watched him pick up a pile of personal post and leaf through it, busying himself opening an array of envelopes. She wandered off, not wanting to distract him, glancing into the formidably equipped kitchen before discovering the bedrooms. There were three—two guests and a clear master. She stood in the doorway for a moment, her expression uncertain.
Would it be her bedroom as well as his?
Because in the end did it matter? Did it matter that he was the most fantastic-looking man she’d ever set eyes on? That since that kiss at the restaurant she had felt an ache, a yearning, that he had awoken in her with that brief touch of his lips on hers?
That wasn’t the reason they were marrying! That was what she had to remember. The reasons they were going to marry were financial—nothing more than that. And if that was all Xandros wanted of their brief marriage then she must accept it.
Except that strange little tug around her heart came again... No man, she knew, would ever set her pulse racing, bring the colour to her cheeks, make her so blazingly aware of her own body...of his...
Her eyes went to the huge double bed in the master bedroom. Wide enough for two...wide and inviting... But would she ever be invited into it...? Uncertainty mixed within her with yearning...longing...
‘Here you are!’
Xandros’s voice was warm as it sounded behind her. Rosalie turned.
‘Seen everything?’ he asked.
For a second his eyes rested on her with an expression she could not quite make out. Then it was gone. He was speaking again.
‘I’ve been going through the post—mostly invitations! But we’ll ignore them all until we’re safely married. Then,’ he said, and his eyes washed over her, ‘I’ll start showing you off. I’m looking forward to it!’
Rosalie felt herself colouring, confusion filling her again. Was it just that he wanted her to look her best for his friends and acquaintances? To show the world—and convince her father—how real their marriage was? He could afford no hint that it would be over and done with before the year was out, leaving Xandros with what he wanted—the merger with her father—and herself with a hefty divorce payout?
Is that all our marriage is going to be about?
She turned away, feeling that strange tug of emotion coming again, and stepped back into the wide corridor, then into the triple-aspect reception room, her feet taking her towards the view of the Parthenon on the Acropolis. She paused to gaze out over it, still feeling that strange tug of emotion.
Hands closed lightly over her shoulders and she felt Xandros behind her, his breath warm on her neck. Her own breath caught, feeling him so close, catching the spiced scent of his aftershave... She wanted to lean back into him, feel his arms go around her waist to embrace her, but she was too unsure to move.
‘It’s a good sight, isn’t it?’ he murmured softly.
She gave a slow nod, conscious not of the ancient monument but only of his hands upon her. For a moment—just a moment—she felt his touch tighten, as if he would turn her to him. As if he would take her into his arms...
Then, instead, he merely grazed the top of her head with the lightest and most fraternal of kisses, his hands dropping away.
‘I’ll run you back to your hotel,’ he said.
There was nothing in his voice but his usual easy-going manner.
With a flickering smile of acquiescence Rosalie let him usher her out of his apartment, outwardly serene. But inside, she knew, she was conscious of a sense of disappointment. Of a creeping melancholy.
She had no business feeling that way. No right at all.
But she did, all the same.
* * *
Xandros was visiting his mother. He didn’t want to, but he owed her that at least. He’d had to make a difficult phone call to her before he’d flown to London, telling her as carefully as he could that Ariadne had pulled out of their engagement.
‘But why?’ his mother had cried, dismayed. ‘I thought it was all agreed!’
‘So did I,’ he’d said. ‘But there it is. I have to respect her decision.’
He knew his mother was upset. She had wanted him to marry Ariadne, the daughter of her childhood friend—to marry her and achieve the merger her husband had urged his son to make as a sure way to increase the Lakaris fortunes he had worked so hard to rescue. She had wanted him to marry and give her grandchildren, to cheer her widowhood and to continue the ancient line to which he had been born, of which he was now the sole representative since the untimely death of his father three years ago.
And if Ariadne had been the perfect bride for him in his mother’s eyes, Xandros knew with foreboding that she would deplore his sudden decision to marry Ariadne’s illegitimate English half-sister instead.
Which was why he had to visit her in person—to explain the precise reasons for his precipitate action.
As he had expected, she did deplore it—and vocally.
‘Xandros, who is this girl? Nobody! You can’t possibly be thinking that she can be a substitute for Ariadne!’
‘That is precisely what I don’t think!’ he answered. He took a breath and looked into his mother’s eyes, which held a troubled expression. ‘She understands my reasons and agrees it will only be a temporary arrangement. And...’ he took another breath ‘...this won’t just be for my benefit. I want to do this for her,’ he said feelingly. ‘She’s had a wretched life. Coustakis never acknowledged her existence. He condemned both her and her mother to lifelong poverty. She deserves better!’
His mother looked at him, her expression still troubled. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked slowly. ‘Are you sure that you know what you’re doing, Xandros?’
He looked at her straight. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And it is very, very simple, I promise you.’
She looked as if she was going to say something more, but he forestalled her. He did not want their conversation moving on to any other aspect of just why he was going through with this marriage—that it was precisely because it was going to be temporary that it appealed to him, and that as soon as he was free of it, his desire for Rosalie slaked, he would resume the carefree, unattached bachelor lifestyle his mother considered a waste of his time.
He changed the subject away from marrying Rosalie and the reasons he was doing so.
‘Tell me, have you heard anything from Ariadne? Her mobile phone isn’t working. Coustakis must have cancelled it—he’s vindictive enough to do that, after disowning her as he has! My guess is she’s gone to stay with her maternal grandmother’s relatives in Scotland. But I don’t know their whereabouts, or even their name.’
His mother shook her head. ‘I have heard nothing from Ariadne either. I try not to worry, but—’
Xandros gave her what reassurance he could. ‘Well, she has a mind of her own—she’ll turn up when she wants to.’
It was the best he could say. No point giving voice to his own growing suspicions of just why Ariadne had bolted, or where she might be now... She was no longer his concern.
Only her half-sister was. The half-sister who held a sensual allure for him that Ariadne had never had, for all her dark beauty. The half-sister he was due to marry in a handful of days, as soon as the paperwork permitted.
His mother would not come—it would be easier that way, both for her and for his bride. After all, theirs was not going to be a real marriage—not by anything other than legal definition. It was simply a means to an end. Two ends. Business, yes. And also pleasure...
The low purring started up along with the powerful engine of his car as he headed back to Athens. Oh, yes...very, very decided pleasure. Pleasure that he was having to exercise all his self-control not to start indulging in before the knot was tied.
That tantalising but fleeting kiss in the hotel restaurant was a torment to remember, and when she’d come to see his apartment he’d had to busy himself with his mail in order to keep his hands off her. Especially when he�
�d found her gazing at his bed...as if she were already envisaging them there together.
He’d so very nearly obliged her... But he’d drawn back, permitting himself only that light, brief touch on her shoulders—and even that had been a torment before he’d released her again...
It was a torment he was schooling himself to endure. A rushed seduction in a hotel room, or even at his apartment, was not what he wanted. No, there was only one place he wanted to make Rosalie his own...
One perfect place he yearned to be with her...
CHAPTER EIGHT
THEY WERE DINING out the night before their wedding. Not at the hotel this time, but at what was obviously a very exclusive restaurant. Rosalie was thankful that it wasn’t crowded or noisy. Nor was it, as far as she could tell, a fashionable watering hole for their generation.
‘I thought you might like somewhere quiet,’ Xandros said as they sat down at their table. ‘This place is one of my mother’s favourites when she’s in town, for that very reason.’
Rosalie looked at him. ‘Your mother?’ Her brow furrowed and she spoke hesitantly. ‘I...I didn’t realise that she was still...well, still alive.’
‘Very much so,’ Xandros answered drily. ‘She doesn’t live in Athens, but out in the country. I’ll take you to meet her sometime after our wedding.’ He paused, and then he said, quite deliberately, ‘She understands about our marriage.’
He didn’t say any more, and Rosalie didn’t probe. After all, did it really matter if Xandros’s mother existed? It wasn’t as if she was going to be a real mother-in-law any more than Xandros was going to be a real husband. And not just because their marriage was going to be so brief...
Her eyes went to him as he consulted the waiter about tonight’s menu choices, taking in, as she always did, the sable feathering of his hair, the curve of his sensual mouth, the dark, long-lashed expressive eyes. She felt her senses heighten, wanting only to gaze at him, at just how incredibly, fatally attractive he was...
She remembered how she’d gazed at him that very first time, open-mouthed, when she’d opened the door of that rundown rental property to see him, unable to tear her eyes away from him.