The Greek's Penniless Cinderella

by Julia James

  ‘My for ever wife,’ he said, breathing in the sweet breath of her honeyed mouth. ‘My for ever love.’

  She gave herself to his kiss, long and sweet and deep, and her hands slipped from his to wind about his neck as his hands clasped her waist, holding her so close against him that nothing could ever part them again...

  Except the buzzing in her apron pocket.

  He pulled back. ‘What the—’

  Rosalie gave a shaky laugh. ‘It’s my manager—wanting to know why I’m taking so long to turn down the bed in this room.’

  Xandros yanked the phone from her pocket and answered it.

  ‘This is Xandros Lakaris in Room 504. Mrs Rosalie Jones Lakaris is otherwise engaged right now. And for the next fifty years and more! Oh, and by the way, she’s just handed in her notice. Effective immediately.’

  He chucked the phone on the desk. Turned back to her. Took her into his arms again.

  ‘I think,’ he said, and there was a gleam in the liquid gold of his eyes that melted her, ‘we can turn down this bed perfectly well together...’

  He drew her down with him and she gave a sigh of bliss.

  Of radiant, everlasting love and perfect, perfect happiness.

  EPILOGUE

  ROSALIE SMILINGLY ACCEPTED the glass of champagne that her mother-in-law’s stately butler was offering to her from a silver platter before discreetly withdrawing. She and Xandros had just arrived from yet another sojourn on Kallistris, where they loved to spend all the time they could. But this was an occasion she would not have missed for all the world.

  She raised her flute to the young woman sitting opposite her in the beautifully appointed drawing room, tenderly holding her newly christened baby in her arms.

  It was Xandros who gave the toast, standing beside Rosalie’s silk-upholstered armchair.

  ‘To my sister-in-law and her beautiful daughter,’ he said, raising his glass.

  His words were echoed by his wife and his mother.

  ‘To dear Ariadne,’ his mother said fulsomely.

  ‘To my wonderful sister!’ Rosalie exclaimed warmly.

  Her eyes met Ariadne’s. In the months since she had returned to Athens, her heart soaring with happiness, so much had happened—and everything was wonderful...beyond wonderful!

  Xandros’s mother had greeted her with tears, asking forgiveness for having caused so much grief, so unintentionally.

  ‘I did not know you loved my son,’ she had said. ‘Or he you. I did what I thought I had to do—had no choice but to do—but I never meant you any harm, nor the grief I caused you! And now, if you can forgive me, I welcome you to our family as I should have done from the beginning—for you are a part of us for all time. You have made my beloved son the happiest of men, and for that you will always be precious to me.’

  And it was her mother-in-law who had overseen the meeting between the two half-sisters. Rosalie had been full of trepidation, lest her hopes not be matched, but her fears had been unnecessary.

  So like herself—yet so unalike—Ariadne had been eager in her greeting.

  ‘You can’t know how wonderful it is to have a sister!’ she had exclaimed.

  For a few moments Rosalie let her thoughts go to the man who had brought about the two half-sisters in their very different lives. Then she left him where he was—in his callous, uncaring existence. He had given love to neither of his daughters and neither of their mothers—he deserved nothing.

  Her mouth twisted. For all that, her father would now get the only thing he seemed to want. Which, in turn, would give Xandros the merger which she had persuaded him not to withdraw from after all.

  She needed no proof that Xandros wanted what she herself so longed for, for no other reason than the one they shared. A baby to bless their marriage and fill their cup of happiness to the brim.

  Her eyes went now to Xandros, exchanging a secret glance with him. They would not steal Ariadne’s moment now, but very soon her own pregnancy would start to show, and then it would be a time for family rejoicing.

  So she raised her glass again, her expression warm, and felt Xandros’s hand on her shoulder warm upon her, cherishing and loving. How blessed she was to have so much!

  Oh, Mum, you’re the only one I miss who should be here—but you will be in my heart always, and in my memories. And if my baby is a girl I will give her your name—and all the love you gave to me.

  Then her gaze went to her husband’s once again, her heart overflowing as their eyes wound into each other’s. Unconsciously her hand slipped to her stomach, fingers splaying in a protective gesture.

  A little gasp came from her half-sister. Ariadne’s eyes widened.

  ‘Rosalie! Can it be...? I know that gesture! Are you...?’ Her voice was breathless, excited.

  Rosalie gave a helpless laugh, exchanging a rueful glance with Xandros. So much for secrecy!

  Her mother-in-law had gone very still, her champagne flute poised halfway to her mouth, eyes only on Rosalie, bright with eager hope.

  ‘Shall we?’ Xandros asked of Rosalie, with resigned humour in his voice.

  She gave a nod. Too late now for prevarication.

  Xandros duly raised his glass again. ‘I think,’ he said, taking a breath, ‘we have another toast to make... To the next Lakaris!’

  There was a cry of delight from her mother-in-law, of excited glee from Ariadne, and then Xandros’s smiling mouth was swooping down on hers in celebration, in joy, and in endless love.

  As it always would be between them.

  For all time. And way beyond.

  * * *

  If you fell in love with The Greek’s Penniless Cinderella you’re sure to adore these other stories by Julia James!

  Heiress’s Pregnancy Scandal

  Billionaire’s Mediterranean Proposal

  Irresistible Bargain with the Greek

  The Greek’s Duty-Bound Royal Bride

  Available now!

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  Secrets Made in Paradise

  by Natalie Anderson

  CHAPTER ONE

  JAVIER TORRES IGNORED the paperwork strewn across his lap and gazed out of the tinted window of the SUV, absently watching his driver walk into the small store to stock up on refreshments. It was late afternoon, the weather was glorious, and he ought to feel like a king. He was back on the threshold of paradise—Santa Cruz, the most populated of the Galapagos islands and arguably one of the planet’s most isolated and fascinating places. He was here to oversee the start of the hotel rebuild he’d recently invested in. Yet instead of feeling satisfied, he was distracted by an uneasy, prickling sensation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the recollection of the last time he’d been here. More precisely, the redhead he’d ravished. There really wasn’t any other word for what had transpired between them. But she’d ravished him right back—with such rare intensity that she’d haunted his dreams every night of the eighteen months since.

  It wasn’t as if he’d never had a one-night stand before. It was pretty much all he had. She hadn’t though. A wisp of wicked amusement flickered through him as he remembered there’d been a number of firsts for her that night. She’d been travelling, all the way from Australia, and who knew where in the world she was now? Certainly not Javier. She’d not been there when he’d woken the next morning and he’d had to return to mainland Ecuador that evening in time to catch his flight home to New York.

  It wasn’t supposed t
o matter. He’d not meant to care. Only he’d been unable to forget. Searing memories tormented his nights and teased in unwanted, unsummoned daydreams. Javier had rarely daydreamed before meeting her. And the impact she’d had on his sex life was frankly appalling. He was stuck in the longest ever stretch of abstinence. He told himself it was because he was busy with work projects and plans. In reality no woman he’d met since had aroused him. It was infuriating. He could do with a fantastic, physical night of unfettered pleasure; the stress release would be good and being back on this island only brought those memories to the fore even more.

  And just like that she appeared—walking out of the shop—an erotic vision with her stunning solar-flare-red hair and fantastically generous curves. Javier groaned. Of course his tormented mind would conjure her here. It was the ultimate in wishful thinking and the craving was so strong he simply sank back into the seat, helpless to do anything other than enjoy the mirage. His skin tightened as his muscles surged at the sight of her lush body. That first night he’d seen her before she’d seen him and the artless confidence with which she’d walked from the water, bold in her bright green bikini and owning her space, had made her the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. Now she turned as a young couple followed her out of the store. She pointed something out down the road and the other woman handed her a phone. The couple posed beside the store sign while the redhead took their picture. Then the redhead turned as Javier’s driver emerged from the shop. He sent her a massive smile. Of course he did, who wouldn’t when passing a woman that stunning? But all this interaction meant she wasn’t a hallucination.

  The universe went mute. Javier didn’t blink or breathe. His heart didn’t beat. He stared intently, watching her walk in those slightly too snug jeans that strained to contain her gorgeously shapely hips and thighs. His mouth dried. Her loose khaki linen shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white tank top beneath, giving the merest, most tantalising glimpse of her other blessedly bountiful curves. And that glorious riot of red was barely holding up in a half-tumbling topknot, revealing her high cheekbones and freckled skin. Every muscle clenched at the sight of her intensely feminine frame while the memory of her soft, silken heat consumed him.

  His driver opened the door.

  ‘Wait a moment, please,’ Javier instructed hoarsely.

  The redhead’s smile had just gone nuclear. Javier’s tension sky-rocketed and he turned to see who warranted such a warm welcome. His burst of strain was soothed as he saw an elderly woman slowly walking along the path. She was carrying a baby—a dark-haired, smiling bundle who stretched his tiny arms out and wriggled impatiently as he saw the redhead run towards them.

  Noise returned in a jangling cacophony, pummelling Javier as he watched the reunion. He drew a sharp breath while his brain whirred—registering that relationship, calculating the passage of time with precision, computing the shocking combination of facts in a nanosecond and coming up with a conclusion that was utterly appalling.

  Cold panic clashed with wild horror. Because he knew with absolute certainty that the redhead was the woman he’d seduced all those months ago—Emerald, the sweet siren from that beautiful beach. And that baby was definitely her child. And with equal unequivocal, icy conviction, he knew her child was also his.

  An awful crevasse opened within, rapidly filling with a hot lava of guilt. She’d had his baby and he’d not known. Because she’d not been able to contact him. Because that night he’d been careless and he’d not told her his true name.

  Now he studied her again—not seeing the sexy curves of her body and the striking colour of her hair this time, but the frayed, faded edges of her shirt, the worn patches of her jeans, the strain around her eyes. At the signs of her struggle, that guilt within him grew, as did utter regret for her and for her child.

  Children had never been on Javier’s to do list and, frankly, would never be. As for marriage? Well hell, no. He’d not just witnessed the worst of those intimate wars, he’d been collateral damage. So no, his life was rich enough with work, any instinctive need to leave a mark sated by the creation of his own little business empire, any inner restlessness soothed by travel. He had no need and no desire for deep relationships or emotional responsibilities. The concept of fatherhood was so far from his realm of knowledge it was like a bad joke—how could he possibly do a decent job of parenting when he’d had such a rubbish example in his own life? Well, not a rubbish example, more like no example at all.

  He’d never wanted some other poor kid to be rejected and neglected the way he had. Yet—albeit inadvertently—he’d done exactly that to his own for months. Anger surged at his incompetence, but so did something primal. The need to protect. And the need to make things right. But that sense of duty wasn’t backed up by paternal knowledge or skill. He clenched his jaw, biting back his disappointment in his own failings. He was no hero, but he’d provide what he could, as soon as he could. He just had to figure out the best way how.

  * * *

  Emerald Jones glanced at her watch. Less than twenty minutes and she’d have Luke back. It had only been an hour but she missed him already. Such long shifts at the small store were hard, but she was incredibly grateful for the chance to keep her dignity and her boss, Connie, adored spending some time with Luke in the afternoons. The rest of the time Emmy was able to keep him occupied in a little playpen behind the counter, though she worried she wouldn’t be able to for much longer given how adventurous and alarmingly mobile her curious little boy was becoming. That was a problem she was too tired to think of a solution to yet. Honestly? She was surviving one day to the next.

  She glanced up as a tall figure stepped through the shadowed doorway. As he moved into the light a hit of pure exhilaration soared, a leap of joy so powerful she almost cried out with delight. Instead she froze—that sound trapped in her throat.

  Eighteen months ago the world had tilted, never returning to rights. Now it tilted again, taking another rotation and rendering everything upside down.

  ‘Ramon?’ she breathed.

  Dark brown eyes—a decadent mix of cocoa and coffee—stared into her soul. Vaguely she absorbed details—the charcoal linen trousers, the white shirt, the sleeves rolled to three-quarters, revealing tanned, strong forearms—but it was those eyes that stunned her. She trembled from tip to toe with a powerful whole-body reaction. She’d suffered this shudder of raw recognition that first night too. He’d captured every iota of her attention in a way no other person ever had. And look what had happened.

  Hormones. Her own chemistry had failed her. Because with another micro blink of time she’d remembered. He wasn’t ‘Ramon.’ He’d deceived her, he’d lied about his identity and his reason for being on the island. Nothing had been real. He’d used her so completely. She’d shown him the most perfect place and then he’d stolen it. She hated him for that.

  But at the same time, more memories stirred—those secret ones she’d tried to bury. Because while he’d taken the place she loved, she had to admit he hadn’t stolen that other deeply personal thing from her. She’d given him her body, her virginity, more than freely. In that moment she’d been so willing, and it had been so magical she could never brand it a mistake, despite discovering his dishonesty since. And most importantly, he’d given her something beyond priceless.

  Luke.

  Her small son. His son. The one he knew nothing about.

  Icy terror destroyed her equilibrium as she realised this man could take everything—as quickly and easily as he’d taken her innocence that night. Her heart pounded as the remnants of elation from that unthinking rush of recognition were sucked away by fear and the worst, worst guilt. She should have told him, she had to tell him. But not here, not now, not when Luke was due back with Connie at any moment. She needed to get ‘Ramon’ to leave and she’d tell him later when she’d figured out how...

  She should have figured out how already.

  ‘Emmy
.’ His smile was tight, but still devastating.

  She blinked. She didn’t want to respond to his looks and charm. Not knowing the truth. Because she’d learned ‘Ramon’—her carefree surfer-dude tourist—was really Javier Torres. Billionaire investor. Billionaire playboy. Billionaire jerk.

  When she’d learned his true identity—a few months after Luke’s birth—she’d never wanted to see him again. Her already bruised heart had broken on finding out he was so lacking in integrity. And not only was Javier Torres a man who lied easily, he was terrifyingly powerful. Initially she’d been too angry to contact him, then she’d grown too scared as she’d realised the implications of his assets and while she knew it was wrong, she’d had no choice. Her childhood had been marred by lie after lie. She’d been deceived before, but, worse, she’d also been the liar. And when Javier discovered that last? He’d be furious. She knew well that angry people lashed out in a variety of ways. None of them good. Integrity was everything and trust, once lost, wasn’t regained. But she couldn’t have another dishonest person wreck her life, even if she had to be dishonest herself to keep him out. Because she wasn’t having what had happened to her happen to her son.

  Yet even as she mentally rejected Javier, she was hit again by that terrible chemistry. That hidden, secret part of her weakened with want. She’d ached for him for months. He’d starred in her dreams night after night after night—indeed every night since then.

  Feeling sick with guilt, she was conscious of the empty playpen behind her and the ticking clock on the wall. Protecting her son’s future—and her own part in it—was paramount.

  ‘It’s been a while...’ She forced her parched lips into a smile so he wouldn’t suspect anything. As far as he knew, she still thought he was ‘Ramon.’ ‘How may I help? Did you want to buy something?’