Modern Romance May 2019: Books 5-8
Page 33
‘Please.’ Her voice wobbled and she had to work to get the words out. ‘I need to be alone.’
Emma’s breath came in laboured gasps. She swung around and fumbled for her sandals. But as she scrambled towards the path a hard hand closed around her elbow.
‘Not so fast.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHRISTO REELED. HALF an hour ago they’d been wrapped in each other, lost in a blast of ecstasy so intense he was sure it had marked him for life.
Emma had marked him. Her sweet generosity. Her fiery strength. Her gentle caring.
He’d never known a woman like her. Had never expected to and had certainly never anticipated the effect she’d have on him.
Now he was entangled, caught so fast in the net of his own longing that there was no escape.
She couldn’t expect him to let her go. Not now. Not when he’d glimpsed paradise with her. Christo had learned never to expect miracles. Everything in his world always came at a price.
But, despite everything, Emma had given herself to him freely, unstintingly. Not just in bed, but in so many other ways, ways that made him think the boundaries he’d known all his life could be broken. That if he made the effort perhaps there could be more.
He wanted that more so badly. He wanted Emma.
‘Talk to me, Emma.’ Nausea stirred at the thought of her so distressed. Of him distressing her. She trembled in his hold but didn’t try to escape.
‘What is it? Is it because of what I did? Because I didn’t save Cassie?’ Before he’d shared that, Emma had been content in his arms.
Guilt over his stepsister lay heavily, only lightening occasionally. When Anthea smiled her increasingly cheeky grin or put her hand in his. Or when Emma gave him that glowing look that made his heart stop.
‘What?’ Emma turned and his gut contracted when he saw that her lashes were spiked with tears.
‘You despise me, don’t you?’ The words ground from him, revealing the depths of his fear.
Once he’d never have admitted that to anyone, even himself. He’d learned, almost before he could walk, to conceal weakness. But Emma stripped away his ability to pretend. Self-preservation should have kept his mouth shut about the past, but for once he’d wanted to share everything because it was Emma wanting to know.
Look where that had got him.
‘I don’t despise you.’ Her words were choked and unconvincing.
Christo’s pulse beat raggedly. He knew he’d guessed right. Yet still he couldn’t release her. He slid his hand to her wrist, feeling the tumultuous pulse there.
‘Then what? You weren’t in a hurry to leave before I told you about Cassie.’
‘It’s not that.’ Her gaze slid from his and Christo felt the lie like a blow to the back of his legs severing his tendons.
Now he found the willpower to release her and step back.
‘Don’t lie to me, Emma.’ That was one of the things he treasured about her. She always told him the truth.
‘I’m not—’ He felt her gaze on him. ‘Christo? Are you all right?’
He grimaced. Even now, when she knew the worst of his faults, Emma could find it in her to be concerned for him. She was too caring for her own good.
‘No. I’m not.’ He hefted a breath, trying to fill lungs that had seized. Looking down into drenched hazel eyes Christo realised he had no option but to tell her the truth. The whole truth, that he’d been grappling with for weeks now. ‘I can’t let you go.’
She stepped back and Christo felt as if he’d cracked right through the middle, seeing her retreat.
‘You have to.’ He heard her desperation and knew this was his last chance.
Pride be damned. He couldn’t let her go without a fight. ‘I need you, Emma. Please. I...love you.’
He’d never thought to hear, much less say, those words. They were foreign on his tongue but as soon as he said them something that felt remarkably like peace settled around him.
It was short-lived.
Emma flung up her hand as if to ward him off. ‘Don’t, please. That’s too cruel.’
Gently Christo captured her hand and pulled it down, resisting the impulse to tug her to him and never let her go. ‘Why is it cruel?’
He was the one being rejected. But seeing Emma so distraught tempered his reaction.
Sad brown eyes met his. ‘You’re just saying that because you know that I...’ Her chin came up. ‘I was in love with you when we married. You think you can make me stay if you pretend to love me now.’
Christo shook his head, ignoring the dart of pain at the fact she spoke of loving him in the past tense.
‘I’m not pretending, karthia mou. I promised to be honest with you.’ He paused, watching her eyes widen. ‘I want more than a convenient marriage. I want you as my partner, my love, the one that I cherish for the rest of my days.’
Instead of the response he’d hoped for, Emma’s mouth turned down at the corners. Pain clouded her expression.
‘It’s too late, Christo. Once I might have fallen for that, but not now.’
‘I see. You don’t trust me after all.’ He couldn’t blame her. He’d set about winning her with ruthless efficiency. Now, looking back on his determination to put his ring on Emma’s finger, he understood it was because he’d been falling for her from the very first. At the time he hadn’t had the emotional understanding to recognise he was falling in love, yet he’d known instinctively he needed this woman in his life.
Emma shook her head, her hair a tangle around her shoulders. Her red top was inside out, her skirt drooping on one side where the zip hadn’t pulled up all the way, and her nose was pink. She was still the most beautiful woman he knew. Christo’s heart gave a mighty thud, as if trying to leap free of his rib cage and throw itself on her mercy.
‘I won’t hold you to our agreement.’ It killed him to say it but how could he keep her by force? ‘Your uncle’s business is safe. Your assets are too.’
He read surprise on her face and pushed harder.
‘That’s what I was going to tell you today. That I want this to be a real marriage. That I want more from you than just a legal agreement and a home for Anthea.’
Her chin tilted. ‘And sex.’
He nodded. ‘And sex.’ The thought had an inevitable effect with a surge of blood to the groin. ‘I want more, Emma. I’m greedy. I want you. The whole of you. I want to be the one you care for because I care for you. I love you.’ The words came easier this time, despite the fact he felt stretched on a torture rack by her lack of response.
Christo stood, waiting for her to capitulate, to admit she cared for him even a little. To give him hope.
Nothing. Just that frozen look of shock.
Defeat was a boulder crushing his chest, flattening his very being. Yet he couldn’t give up. His feelings for her were too vital.
Finally he dragged out the words. ‘I won’t stand in your way, Emma. But, wherever you go, I’ll be there. Hoping you change your mind. If you go to Melbourne, I’ll buy a home there. If you stay in the Corfu villa, I’ll look for a place nearby.’ He dragged his hand through his hair, silently admitting his desperation. ‘After all, you’ll want to see Anthea from time to time.’ He prayed she did. It looked like being the only way he’d get to see Emma.
‘But your business is based in Athens!’
Christo huffed out a terse laugh. ‘You think that will stop me?’ He shook his head. ‘For you I’d give that up. I’ve got more than enough money for a lifetime.’ As he said it Christo felt an unexpected sense of freedom. Never in his life had he contemplated a world without Karides Enterprises. ‘There’s more to life than business.’
His father would be spinning in his grave.
But this was his life. Not his father’s.
Emma faltered back a step, her hand going to her throat. ‘You couldn’t. It’s your life.’
‘Part of my life,’ he said slowly. ‘A part that I enjoy, most of the time. But there are
more important things in my life now. Like you.’
* * *
Emma heard his words and told herself this was a trap to keep her in a convenient marriage.
But when she saw the excitement and wonder in Christo’s eyes it was hard not to believe him.
‘I’m not my father, Emma. I saw his life and I didn’t want it, even as I spent my time learning how to be him.’
‘No,’ she whispered, unable to stop herself. ‘You aren’t him. He sent Cassie away. You tried to help her. You’re helping her daughter.’
That had to count for something. Christo was a better man than his father.
‘I love you, karthia mou.’ There were those words again. He called her ‘his heart’. How was a woman supposed to resist that? ‘Ah, Emma, don’t cry.’ He lifted a finger to her face, brushing away the single tear that had spilled down her cheek. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘I just don’t know what to believe.’
His hand dropped. ‘If nothing else, believe I’ll never intentionally hurt you again.’ Christo swallowed. ‘I’ve got a lot to learn, like how to care for a family. Maybe that’s why I was so determined to win you and keep you. For my own selfish reasons and not for Anthea at all. I understood, though I couldn’t admit it, that I needed you. For your beautiful, loving heart.’
To Emma’s amazement he took a step away. A chill enveloped her.
‘If I thought it would work I’d promise you jewels and designer clothes. There’s a luxury yacht off Santorini, a ski chalet at St Moritz and a chateau in the Loire.’ As she watched, his intent gaze grew cloudy. ‘But I know you, Emma. You care about people more than things. There’s nothing more I can say. Words alone won’t convince you.’
His eyes were bleak, his sensual mouth a grim line. Every line of that strong, superb body spoke of pain.
And it struck her that she believed him. These weren’t empty words. He really would change his life to win her, move to Australia to be with her.
Even in the days of their courtship Christo hadn’t actively lied. She’d been the one spinning fairy tales out of his kindness and gentle wooing, building them into far more than he’d ever implied.
She stared into those smoky eyes, feeling the depth of pain he didn’t bother to conceal. Christo stood there, uncaring about his nakedness, as if nothing mattered but convincing her.
‘You’d really give up the business for me?’
Fire sparked in those eyes. Emma saw blue flames ignite. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes. Just say the word.’
Abruptly the dreadful tightness wrapping her ribs eased and she took a shuddery breath of relief. Of hope.
‘I might still want those designer clothes if I’m going to look like a billionaire’s woman.’
The fire in his eyes became a blaze of heat as he absorbed her words. ‘Clothes don’t make the woman, Emma.’
‘Or the man.’ She nodded at his naked body and he shrugged, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
‘I’m hoping you’ll decide it’s what’s inside that counts.’
If Emma hadn’t been so close she’d never have seen the shadow of self-doubt in his expression. Never have noticed the way his pulse thundered too hard at his temple. As if, despite all his experience bringing off hugely profitable deals, Christo still feared he wasn’t good enough for her.
Emma stepped up to him, putting her hand to his pounding chest. ‘There’s something you should know.’
Christo’s hand clamped hers to him. His jaw tightened, as if expecting the worst. ‘Tell me.’
‘I tried but I never fell out of love with you.’
It took long seconds for her words to sink in. ‘You still love me?’ Beneath her hand Christo’s heart took up a helter-skelter rhythm that matched hers.
Emma nodded and suddenly they were both grinning. His hands framed her face. ‘You love me.’ This time he said it as if he believed it.
‘And you love me.’ Now she could see it in his face, feel it in the rippling tremor that passed through him. How wrong she’d been, imagining Christo incapable of deep emotion. For there it was, clear as day.
Then his hands were on her, not undressing her or seducing her, but lifting her high and swirling her round and round till the world spun and the only solid thing in it was Christo.
Finally he stopped, panting, and collapsed on the sand, cushioning her as she landed on him.
‘My own Emma.’ He wrapped his arms around her. ‘You give me heart to be the man I never thought I could be.’
‘And you give me courage to be more than I’d ever thought possible.’ The moment felt so huge, so momentous.
‘Stop talking and kiss me, wife.’
Instead of taking offence at his command, Emma gladly complied. Then she made a demand of her own, which provoked one of Christo’s trademark sexy smiles and kept them on the beach for hours celebrating.
EPILOGUE
AFTER MONTHS OF detailed planning and intense work the neighbouring villa was finally open. The residence was elegant and well-appointed and the gardens a triumph. Christo’s staff had provided expert assistance but it was Emma and her team of locals who’d pulled it all together.
Christo stood in the sunken garden, redolent with the velvet scent of roses, cypresses and the salt tang of the sea. The days grew shorter but, as if ordained by fate, or perhaps his wife’s sheer positivity, the afternoon sun shone bright in a cloudless sky.
His gaze wandered from the draperies of sea-green gauze and silk that led from the shallow steps, past the flowering shrubs, to the pergola where he stood. The place had a festive air.
‘You look like the cat who swallowed the cream.’
Christo turned to Damen, grinning beside him.
‘Can you blame me?’
His friend shook his head. ‘The transformation is stunning.’
Christo knew he was talking about the villa, once sad and neglected, now an inviting showpiece. But the real change, he knew, was within himself. He was a different man from the one who’d flown to Melbourne to secure a commercial property and a convenient wife.
Not for the first time he paused to wonder at old man Katsoyiannis agreeing to the deal. He’d been as sharp as a tack, nobody’s fool, and so protective of his granddaughter. Had he seen what Christo hadn’t? That Emma was the perfect woman for him?
‘Emma’s the one responsible.’ Not just for the renovation, but for the change in him.
‘She’s a miracle worker, and not only with bricks and mortar.’ Damen clapped him on the shoulder. ‘I’ve never seen you looking so relaxed, or so happy.’
Christo shrugged, not bothering to conceal a smile. ‘What can I say? Marriage agrees with me.’ It wasn’t just the fact that he delegated more and worked mainly from their home in Corfu. The life he shared with Emma and little Anthea was filled with joy. ‘You should try it.’
Ignoring Damen’s choke of shock, he turned away.
There was Dora, surrounded by relatives and friends. The familiar faces he’d come to know from Corfu. A scattering of invitees from Athens. On the other side of the garden Emma’s cousin Maia chatted to Clio, both looking effortlessly chic, and both ignoring the attempts of men aged from seventeen to seventy to catch their attention.
Neither woman could hold a candle to his Emma.
‘There she is.’ Damen’s voice made him look past the crowd.
At first all he saw was Emma’s friend Steph descending the steps to the garden. Did that explain the breathless quality of Damen’s voice? Christo hadn’t missed the undercurrent between them.
Then he forgot all else as he caught sight of Emma.
Once again she wore the slim-fitting gown of cream that made her waist look impossibly small and she as fragile as gossamer.
Except his wife was anything but fragile. She was strong and determined, but kind and caring too. Loving.
His breath escaped on the thought.
Loving. That was Emma.
&n
bsp; Her head was up, an antique lace veil framing her features. With every step the tourmaline eardrops he’d given her swung and gleamed, but they couldn’t outshine the happiness on her face. As Emma’s eyes met his Christo felt that familiar thump, as if their two hearts beat as one. Then she smiled and the world turned radiant.
Her uncle walked beside her, beaming. And...
‘Cwisto!’ Anthea barrelled into his legs, wrapping her arms around his thighs and crushing her posy of flowers.
‘Here, sweetie, stand with me.’ Steph, in her green bridesmaid’s dress, beckoned the little girl, but Anthea shook her head.
‘Can’t I stay with you, Cwisto?’ Big brown eyes met his. He knew he was being manipulated but did he care?
‘Of course.’ He took her hand in his. ‘You’re part of this too.’
For, in renewing their vows, Emma committed herself to both of them. As he committed himself to her.
Then Emma’s uncle led her forward and Christo took his bride’s hand, drawing her close. Never had he felt such profound emotion as when he saw the love in her clear gaze.
‘You take my breath away, karthia mou.’ He bent his head and gathered her to him, kissing her until he felt her turn satisfyingly boneless.
A small hand tugged his trouser leg and Anthea’s piercing whisper penetrated. ‘Not now, Cwisto. Be good. You have to wait till after the pwomises.’
The crowd laughed and Emma’s eyes danced as she leaned back, breathless, in his embrace. ‘Yes, there’s plenty of time for kisses later.’
‘I’ll hold you to that, agapi mou.’ Then, grinning, he lifted Anthea in his other arm and turned to the celebrant.
* * * * *
Pregnant by the Commanding Greek
Natalie Anderson
Their blissful encounter was a secret…
Until her pregnancy shock!
Powerful Greek Leon Kariakis is not accustomed to being challenged—least of all by an impulsive woman who’s mistaken his identity. Yet warmhearted Ettie Roberts is a breath of fresh air, and Leon can’t resist indulging in a night of tantalizing pleasure! But Ettie’s pregnancy bombshell demands action. Leon’s heir will not be born out of wedlock, so Ettie must say “I do”…