by Avery Flynn
“Can’t you start a new company with the money from the sale?” she asked. “Wouldn’t that be better? You don’t need to hang on to this one. You could have something of your own with your name.”
For the first time in as long as she could remember, her father’s hard mask slipped, and she glimpsed the weary face of a burdened man beneath it. “When I took over the company, I had no idea Aristos had racked up so much debt. The sale will barely cover everything he owes. If I sell it now and don’t have money coming back in, then your mother and I will have nothing. You’ll have nothing.”
Sophia wanted to point out that their house was worth a small fortune, especially since her father had owned it for years. But he wouldn’t see it like that. They needed to keep up appearances, maintain their picture of success and wealth. Selling the house to get by would make them look bad. Like failures.
And she was their only cash cow.
Her breathing came quicker. What had started off as a laughable suggestion suddenly felt like a nauseating reality.
If it wasn’t for her mother, she would have taken off years ago to chase her dream of a quiet, happy life of independence and solitude. She’d been busting her ass working as a virtual assistant for over two years now to save for a place of her own. She loved her work, loved helping people get their lives in order, and she had a good chunk of her deposit for a place of her own set aside. Better yet, her father knew nothing about it.
The only thing stopping Sophia from acting on her dream was her mother. The older woman was gentle. Vulnerable. She wasn’t emotionally strong enough to stand up for herself. Not only did she suffer spells where she couldn’t get out of bed, but even in her “good times,” the older woman didn’t have much confidence. She didn’t see her worth.
Sophia would always shield her mother from the brunt of her father’s temper and his need to control everything. But that responsibility was like a pair of hands around her throat, squeezing. Drawing up a fluttery panic her stomach.
“Do you really want to leave your mother with nothing?” he asked.
The man had always known her weak spot.
Sophia slumped in her seat. “Of course I don’t want to leave her with nothing,” she said, massaging her temples. There had to be another solution. Something that would keep her family safe and secure while not landing her in a loveless marriage with a stranger. But what?
“It’s not like I’m marrying you off to some disgusting old pig,” he added. “Look him up on Tweet Face or whatever you kids use these days. He’s young, and he’s Greek, which gets my mark of approval, and he’s as rich as a king. You’ll be living on an island in the Mediterranean. It’s not going to be a difficult life. Frankly, he’s a better option than what you could have found yourself.”
She gritted her teeth. Okay, that was uncalled for. At twenty-six, she’d hardly been concerned with finding a husband. Especially since anyone she dated had to meet her father’s high standards—a feat she thought impossible until Dion—or be willing to sneak around behind her father’s back. That left only the guys who had a death wish or had no idea what they were getting themselves into. Needless to say, pigheaded and stupid were not qualities she looked for in a potential love interest.
“This isn’t open for negotiation. Your mother is counting on you.” He twisted the knife further, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest with a self-satisfied air. “Your flight is already booked. You’ll leave for Corfu early next week.”
Heart thundering in her chest, she pushed up from her chair. It felt as though the world was tilting beneath her feet. How could she possibly get out of this? One glance at her father’s stony expression told her that arguing now would only end up in the worst possible scenario: him railing about it to her mother until the woman dissolved into tears and resigned herself to bed for the week. The last time it happened, it’d taken Sophia days to convince her mother to eat a full meal. Even longer to leave the house and face the world.
And this time, she’d be stuck in Corfu, unable to fix it.
She bit down on her lip. She’d tried so many times to get her mom to leave—begging and pleading and offering a simple, uncomplicated life. They’d find a way to make it work, Sophia was sure of it. But her mother steadfastly refused, not even willing to consider it. Was it out of fear? Pride? Something else?
All Sophia knew was that she wouldn’t leave her mother, and her mother wouldn’t leave her father.
Which meant she was trapped.
“We’re very proud of how you always put your family first,” he said, assessing her calmly. Could he read the riot of emotions swamping her? “It’s an admirable quality. I’m sure your future husband will appreciate it.”
Sophia nodded numbly and excused herself from the room. As she walked through the house, the chunky heels of her pumps echoing against the wooden floorboards, her stomach rocked in time with each step.
Marriage?
More like a prison sentence.
By the time she got up to her room, her hands were shaking. She pulled her laptop off her desk and settled onto her bed. Slowly, she typed Dion Kourakis’s name into Google. The image that popped up made her blink. Her father hadn’t been joking. He wasn’t a disgusting old pig by any stretch.
“Well, he might still be a pig,” she muttered to herself. “But he’s not an old one.”
In fact, the man who stared back at her could have been cut right out of a GQ fashion shoot. Hair like polished onyx, deep olive skin, and a sexy five o’clock shadow. Dark, mysterious eyes and full lips that had the most subtle quirk, like he was laughing at a private joke.
He was hot. Superhot, even. But that didn’t change things.
According to Wikipedia, Dion Kourakis was thirty-one and a self-made billionaire. Born and raised in Corfu, Greece. He gave to charity on the regular and was well-known in the community for his company’s program to provide underprivileged residents with employment opportunities.
Okay, so he was superhot and a good guy.
Grumbling, Sophia folded her arms across her chest. That still didn’t change things. The last thing she wanted was to go from being under the control of one domineering man to another. And a man who was willing to marry someone for the sake of a business deal was bound to be domineering, right? Never mind that he seemed like a good guy. Was it worth the risk?
Sophia groaned. Didn’t anyone marry for love anymore? Was that such a ridiculous notion? She wanted the kind of marriage that was founded on things like trust and mutual respect, on genuine feelings and equality. And, of course, on love.
Because, as much as she adored her mother, she’d be damned if she followed in her footsteps. No way would Sophia end up tied to a man who didn’t view her as an equal, least of all one who seemed willing to use her as a pawn for the sake of money. Not. Going. To. Happen.
Resolved to find some flaw in the man, Sophia scrolled through page after page on Google Images of Dion in an array of well-tailored suits, attending charity balls, cocktail parties, ribbon cuttings, and premieres. Even a shot of him shaking the hand of someone in royal dress.
In the images were a rotating bevy of stylish dark-haired women on his arm. Okay. Clearly, he had a type. Sophia frowned at the reflection staring back at her from her vanity mirror. Her very brunette reflection. Darn it.
She lifted her chin. Whether she was his type or not, a man like Dion would need a wife befitting of hanging off his arm. A wife who would be okay with the spotlight, with having her photo taken, and who could dress well and shine beside him. A woman who could look pretty but stay quiet.
In other words, the woman she was raised to be, with her ability to assume an outwardly demure personality and her closet full of stylish clothes. Problem was, she didn’t want to be that woman any longer.
And she certainly didn’t want a man who felt entitled to those things.
But it wasn’t like he knew her. She could be anyone…
Sophia
gasped as the solution hit her like a bolt of lightning. She wouldn’t have to refuse her father’s wishes if Dion decided he didn’t want to marry her. After all, she couldn’t be blamed if her husband-to-be wasn’t happy with the merchandise. If he rejected her, then she could return home, absolved of her “duties” to her family, without worrying her mother would take the brunt of her defiance.
Then she could get back her plans for building her perfect life. All she wanted was to find a house somewhere quiet, somewhere green, where she could work her own hours, be her own boss, and wake up each morning with a view of nature. Then she could convince her mother to come live with her, and the two of them would be happy and free forever.
Guilt immediately curled in her stomach at the thought of lying to this stranger, of deceiving him. But what other option did she have? Her father would never bend, never waver. His word was final…always. If she showed any ounce of resistance, he’d march her onto the damn plane and buckle her into the seat himself. Or worse, fly to Greece with her.
And really, wasn’t this for Dion’s benefit, too? He seemed like a decent guy. Upstanding. A good member of his community.
He shouldn’t be steamrolled into a loveless marriage, either.
That meant none of her beautiful clothing or fancy shoes or her perfect-wife personality would be coming to Corfu with her. If Cinderella had ditched her rags to go catch a prince, then Sophia would simply do the opposite.
…
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Acknowledgments
Y’all, I have the best job in the world writing happily ever afters and there is no way I could do it without the support and smarts of the good people at Entangled, specifically Liz, Jessica, Riki, Stacy, and Heather. This group of women makes the world work—even the fictional worlds. As always, I’m awed and amazed to get to work with Jenn and Sarah at Social Butterfly. These ladies know how to get things done! If you follow me online at all, you know my life would crumble without Rachel. Seriously. Shout outs to Kimberly Kincaid and Robin Covington for being my ride or dies. You two are a mess and I love you so hard. And, of course, none of this would happen without the most amazing readers in all of Romancelandia. THANK YOU for sharing the precious free time you have with my characters and me. I’m so grateful. One final thank you goes out to the Flynn family for being the absolute best—even when I’m on deadline.
Xoxo,
Avery
About the Author
Avery Flynn has three slightly wild children, loves a hockey-addicted husband, and is desperately hoping someone invents the coffee IV drip. Find out more about Avery on her website, follow her on Twitter, like her on her Facebook page, or friend her on her Facebook profile. Join her street team, The Flynnbots, on Facebook. Also, if you figure out how to send Oreos through the internet, she’ll be your best friend for life.
Also by Avery Flynn…
Butterface
Muffin Top
Tomboy
The Negotiator
The Charmer
The Schemer
Killer Temptation
Killer Charm
Killer Attraction
Killer Seduction
Betting on the Billionaire
Enemies on Tap
Dodging Temptation
His Undercover Princess
Her Enemy Protector
Parental Guidance
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