The Greek's Penniless Cinderella

by Julia James

  No right to miss him or to miss the leisurely pace they’d enjoyed on Kallistris.

  On Kallistris, by day and by night, they had made slow, lingering love, with Xandros’s skilled mouth and fingertips drawing from her such sensual bliss that it had been a white-out of the mind. Now there was only urgent passion, swiftly sated. When she awoke he was already up and getting ready for the office, leaving her with a brief kiss and nothing more.

  She sighed, feeling guilty. She should not let herself be like this. She had so much! A life of ease and luxury. She had no right to feel so down. No right to want yet more.

  To want Xandros to herself while she had him.

  She frowned—where had that come from? That reminder of their time being limited. Of course it was—she’d known that from the very start! Neither of them was committed to the other except for the time they had allotted to stay together in this brief, temporary marriage.

  You knew that from the start! And you knew that his focus was going to be on getting the merger done! You’ve no business to feel neglected or feel sorry for yourself!

  But as she heard his key in the lock—early for him on this Friday evening—she felt her spirits life instantly and her mood soar. She’d seem almost nothing of him these last two weekends since returning to Athens.

  Tossing his briefcase down on the sofa, Xandros swept her up into his arms. ‘At last! A weekend not in the office!’ He kissed her, and set her back, resting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Time to party!’ he told her.

  He took a deep breath before speaking again, his words sounding heartfelt.

  ‘I’ve slogged long enough—I want a break. So how about it? Let’s rig ourselves up and head out! It’s the birthday party of a friend of mine and I don’t want to miss it—and...’ he nodded at her and his expression was telling ‘...it’s high time I showed you off! But first...’

  His grip on her shoulders changed, becoming a caress. The expression in his face changed, too, and gold glinted in his eyes.

  ‘But first,’ he said again, ‘I want to make up for all my neglect of you—’

  With a catch of her breath and a quickening of her veins Rosalie realised what he intended.

  His long lashes swept down over his eyes. ‘Kallistris,’ he said huskily, ‘was far too long ago...’

  His kiss was slow and sensual and melted the very bones of her. With a low laugh of triumph he surfaced, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms and carrying her through into his bedroom to lower her down upon the bed, coming down beside her.

  His hand smoothed her hair from her forehead. ‘Have I told you recently how very, very beautiful you are, Kyria Lakaris?’

  The husk in his voice was deeper...the gold glints in his eyes more molten.

  ‘Not recently,’ she said, and sighed in warm anticipation. Gladness was filling her, arousal was beckoning, and there was another emotion, too. Relief.

  He still wants me.

  Had that been her fear, these last weeks? Had she thought that Xandros was turning into a workaholic not just because he had to run a multi-million-pound business doing whatever it was that he did and overseeing a complex and demanding merger as well? Had she not wanted to admit that she feared his attraction to her had palled?

  But now, as his mouth began to glide down her throat, his fingers deftly slipping open the buttons of her shirt, of his shirt as well, his thighs moving across hers so that she felt their strength, she knew, with another sigh of pleasurable arousal, just how very keen he was to get her naked. And, beneath him, she could cast all those fears aside and glory in what came next.

  A burning fusion that made her cry out again, and again as his body took her to an ecstasy that had not been hers since their last night on Kallistris.

  She clung to him, shuddering in the aftermath, feeling his heart hammering as fiercely as her own, knowing his limbs were exhausted, the bedclothes in a tangled turmoil.

  He pulled her tight against him. ‘I must have been mad to work so hard,’ he breathed. He levered himself up on his elbow. ‘I’m going to take a break—for the whole weekend!’ He dropped a slow kiss on her mouth. ‘But tonight—tonight, Kyria Lakaris—I want you to put on the gladdest of your glad rags and make me the envy of all Athens!’

  The envy of all Athens? Into her head came the jibing words her father had thrown at her when she’d defied him. It was she who was supposed to be the envy of all Athens...

  And later, as they joined Xandros’s friends in the salon privé at the exclusive restaurant where they were gathering, she could see that the jibe had held some truth in it. His friends were welcoming, though she found herself feeling shy, hanging on to Xandros’s supporting arm, and they were happy to talk to her in English, though most of their lively conversation was conducted, understandably in Greek, but two of the most elegant women there made a beeline for her.

  ‘We are in mourning!’ they teased her. ‘Xandros has been captured at last!’

  ‘We all wanted to marry him—but he evaded us!’ The nearest woman’s dark eyes gleamed. ‘So what is your secret?’

  The other woman gave a laugh. ‘The same as Ariadne’s!’ she exclaimed.

  She seemed about to say more, but Xandros had turned away from the man whose birthday it was to drape an arm around Rosalie’s shoulder.

  ‘Come and meet the birthday boy,’ he said, drawing her away. ‘I want to see the envy in his eyes!’

  His friend certainly showed his admiration, and Rosalie could not help but be glad she had made such an effort tonight, knowing that in such company she must do Xandros justice. Her newly purchased cocktail dress, in hues of peacock and royal blue, was, she knew, stunning in its design.

  ‘Don’t leave me alone with your wife for a second, old friend,’ the birthday boy teased openly, ‘or I will steal her away from you! She is ravishing!’

  She smiled, knowing it for the laddish joshing that it was, but was glad of Xandros’s possessive arm around her.

  They took their seats for dinner at a long, formally set table laden with silverware and crystal glasses. Conversation reverted to Greek, and became very lively and good-humoured, with Xandros clearly a key player.

  Part of Rosalie warmed to see him relaxed and convivial—and yet part of her ached, too, and she did not know why. And although his arm was draped around her shoulder, showing the world they were an item, she felt a distance from him.

  I’m just passing through his life...and he through mine. By winter all this will be over. I’ll be back in London. He’ll be part of my past—nothing more than that...

  She felt her throat tighten, felt memory burn. She remembered how their bodies had clung to each other in throbbing passion just a few brief hours ago...how close they’d seemed. As if nothing could part them. But time would do just that—part them in a matter of months. Just as they’d planned from the outset.

  Her throat tightened again, and she felt that strange melancholy assail her as it had in his apartment, before they had married.

  On Kallistris it had vanished.

  Now she felt it again. More poignant.

  * * *

  Xandros sat back in his chair at the desk in his office and frowned. Some critical financial documentation that Stavros Coustakis should have made available to him by now had still not been sent over.

  His mouth thinned. Was this the man playing yet more of his damn games? If so, his only purpose could be to flex his power just for the sake of it. After all, he’d got exactly what he’d held out for—a Lakaris son-in-law—so why the delay now? At this rate getting the merger pulled together would take irritatingly longer than Xandros had wanted it to take.

  On the other hand... His expression changed. It was an ill wind that blew no one any good at all.

  A delay will give me longer with Rosalie.

  His dark eyes glinted appreciatively
. That would definitely be a bonus—no doubt about it.

  One of the things that was exacerbating his frustration with his father-in-law’s dilatory co-operation over expediting the merger between them was the fact that all the demands of making it happen were keeping him in the office for far longer than he wanted.

  Increasingly, he wanted to be spending time with Rosalie. Making the most of her while he had her—before they had to part company and go their own ways.

  The frown was back in his eyes again. That was a pretty negative way of putting it...

  And why be negative about something that’s a positive?

  Because of course it was entirely a positive that theirs was to be a temporary marriage, existing only for the purpose of making the Lakaris-Coustakis merger a reality.

  It was a positive that when that happened he and Rosalie would dissolve their marriage and she would return to England, to a comfortable life of financial security. Leaving him in Greece to resume his carefree bachelor lifestyle again.

  Except... His frown deepened as he sat at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen. Except he had to admit that thought held little appeal.

  Instead, his thoughts went back to the previous weekend. It had been good to take Rosalie to that birthday celebration—surprisingly good to realise that he, too, was now one of the many married couples of his acquaintance and no longer a singleton. Rosalie had seemed to enjoy herself, which was important, and though he’d heard her half-sister’s name mentioned he had forestalled any deterioration of the conversation into potentially tactless discussion of Ariadne.

  Anyway, it hadn’t needed his arm possessively around Rosalie to show all his friends the convincing proof that Ariadne was history and why. They’d all been able to see how blown away he was by Rosalie—and not just because of her stunning beauty, or the way he only had to look at her to want to sweep her off to bed.

  I enjoy her company.

  He’d known that from the start, he realised—even before he’d claimed her for his own. She was easy to be with...enjoyable to be with. Good to be with. Good to spend time with.

  They’d done a lot of that over the weekend. Spending time together. On the Saturday, the day after the birthday bash, they’d piled into his car and taken off across the Corinth Canal into the Peloponnese, down past the ancient sites of Mycenae and Epidaurus.

  Rosalie’s eyes had widened as he’d told her the tales and the history he’d grown up with, which she hungered for to make up for her missing birthright.

  They’d spent the night in Naphlion, Greece’s first capital after regaining its modern independence, and Rosalie had been enchanted by the graceful old houses and peaceful squares there. It had been good—very good—to wander with her, hand in hand, exploring the narrow streets and byways, taking their time, taking their ease, enjoying it all...

  He wished he could look forward to taking her sightseeing the whole of the coming weekend. But that wasn’t going to be possible. Not because he would be tied to his desk, working on the merger, but because his mother had invited them to lunch on Saturday.

  He knew he couldn’t get out of it. His mother needed to meet Rosalie—if for no other reason than to forestall any potential gossip that she was ostracising her new daughter-in-law. To stop any rumours that she wasn’t meeting Rosalie because she expected the marriage to be of short duration. That must definitely not get back to Stavros!

  Xandros gave a resigned sigh. He hoped his mother would go easy on Rosalie...not make her preference for Ariadne too obvious. Had she heard from Rosalie’s sister yet? he wondered, and then put the question aside. Ariadne would surface when she was good and ready, and he wished her well. But between her and Rosalie there was no comparison. None at all.

  How could he ever have seriously contemplated marrying Ariadne? It seemed absurd now. Now that he had Rosalie...

  While he had her...

  Without his being aware of it, the frown had come back to his eyes...even before his secretary had put her head around his door to tell him that the Coustakis accounts he’d been so impatient for had still not arrived.

  Stavros’s delays were not all that displeased him...

  * * *

  Rosalie’s eyes widened as Xandros nosed his car down the long drive and his mother’s home came into sight. This was not a house—it was a mansion! More like the Greek equivalent of an English stately home. The large three-storey edifice was set in equally spacious grounds, deep in the countryside to the north of Athens. Tall cypresses flanked it on either side, and a large stone ornamental pond with a trickling fountain fronted it as they crunched along the gravel drive.

  ‘It was built in the nineteenth century,’ Xandros was telling her, ‘by my great-great-grandfather, after the creation of the modern Greek state. I grew up here.’ He paused. ‘I was very fortunate to be able to do so,’ he went on.

  His voice had changed, Rosalie could hear, and she looked at him questioningly.

  He caught her look and gave her a faint smile as he drew up in front of the grand front entrance. ‘It very nearly had to be sold,’ he said. He switched off the car’s engine, looking at her. ‘My grandfather lived very extravagantly, and it was my father who had to battle to save the family fortune. It was touch-and-go all my boyhood. He succeeded, but...’ His expression tightened. ‘It shortened his life...all the stress he was under for so long. That is why, you see, I’m so very keen on making this merger with your father happen. I never want the kind of financial worry I grew up with to affect my family again.’

  His expression changed again, and his voice became apologetic.

  ‘I know that probably sounds...well, insulting to you, given what you and your poor mother had to put up with all your lives—’

  She shook her head. ‘No...’ she answered slowly. ‘I think it explains why you’ve been so kind to me—why you don’t want me to be poor again.’

  It did, she realised. In his own way he felt a degree of similarity between them, vastly different though their backgrounds had been. And, she thought—and it was a strange thought, given that vast difference—it also made her understand how similarly driven he was, how dogged his determination to achieve the merger he sought by whatever means necessary.

  Just as I was determined to lift myself out of poverty by whatever means necessary. Whether that was by working my guts out as a cleaner to fund my studies or by marrying...

  Her expression flickered. Was that why she’d married Xandros? The only reason? Truly the only reason...?

  The question hovered and she was unwilling to seek an answer. Was grateful that he was now giving a rueful smile to her response.

  ‘Well, it is kind of you to say so,’ he replied. ‘And I hope you can be as forbearing with my mother.’ His mouth tightened. ‘I need to tell you that Ariadne’s mother was a good friend of hers, and for that reason my mother shared your father’s enthusiasm for my marrying your half-sister. She accepts that Ariadne did not share that enthusiasm, but—’

  He broke off. The grand front door was opening, and a butler—or so Rosalie surmised—was emerging. Xandros got out, greeted the stately personage and came round to open Rosalie’s door.

  She got out, nerves pinching. This was an ancestral home, by any standards, but it was strange to think of what Xandros had just disclosed—that the wealth he so obviously enjoyed had not always been guaranteed. Strange, too—and more disturbing—to think that Xandros’s mother had wanted Xandros to marry Ariadne, just as her father had, even though Xandros and Ariadne had clearly had no intention of going along with either parent’s wishes.

  Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. It wasn’t going to make it any easier to cope with the forthcoming meeting. But at least she had the comfort of knowing that Xandros’s mother knew just how artificial their marriage was.

  She was glad she had dressed with extreme care, in a mod
estly styled dress, and had applied equally modest make-up. And she was glad when Xandros gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as the stately butler showed them in to a drawing room whose elegance matched the grand house.

  The woman greeting them was equally elegant.

  ‘My dear...’ Kyria Lakaris said faintly, her smile even fainter, and then she smiled far more warmly at her son when Xandros kissed her cheek.

  He made most of the conversation during the visit, sticking to anodyne subjects such as their recent venture into the Peloponnese, and Rosalie was thankful. Though he kept mostly to English, his mother very often replied in Greek.

  Is she trying to shut me out, or am I being oversensitive?

  She gave a mental shrug, because in the end what did it matter whether Xandros’s mother disapproved of her? Disapproved of her son marrying her? She would be gone out of his life soon enough.

  Several times during the laborious luncheon they sat through, in a dining room as elegant as the drawing room, she heard her half-sister’s name from her mother-in-law, and she could tell by his tone of his voice, even in Greek, that Xandros’s replies were terse. He always pointedly reverted to English, making some remark about his boyhood.

  It was the only subject that drew a response from his mother—the first sign of animation Rosalie had seen in her yet.

  ‘This is a wonderful place for a child to grow up—so much space to run around in! And for the next generation, too. I so look forward to seeing my grandchildren here,’ his mother commented, looking at Rosalie. ‘Of course, had Xandros married Ariadne—’

  Xandros’s voice cut across her, saying something repressive in Greek. His mother’s mouth tightened, but she did not continue.

  Rosalie had got the message, though. Well, Xandros’s mother would have to wait for her grandchildren—wait until her son was free of his current marriage.

  Wait until he marries again. To a real wife this time, so they can make a life together...have children...Xandros’s children...