Revelations Of His Runaway Bride (Mills & Boon Modern)

by Kali Anthony

  Negotiation was something he understood all too well. His parents had never offered him anything out of affection, but out of anticipation that they’d receive something in return. Him—a convenient tool in their hostilities. His inevitable conclusion? They didn’t love him. They used him.

  He’d become an expert on navigating that kind of emotional quicksand. And, with Thea, he’d get his own way. Still, he was prepared to allow her to think she might win.

  ‘We’ll discuss our options after you answer my question.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s meant to be my incentive? You’ll have to give me something more than a promise.’

  Thea sat straight-backed in the chair, seemingly impenetrable in leather and denim. She wanted more?

  His imagination meandered down paths she surely wouldn’t have intended. Visions of cracking through that tough veneer with his questing lips on her body. Peeling away those layers till he had her in her corset and boots. Laying her out on the bed. Fingers stroking her honeyed skin. Burying themselves in her hair...

  No.

  He wasn’t like his father, succumbing to a beautiful face and living with the consequences.

  Christo swallowed. Shut down his errant thoughts.

  He’d give her something, since before the night was over she’d need to trust him—if only a little. Christo reached for his jacket again, put his hand into a front pocket and retrieved her phone. He slid it across the table towards her.

  Thea picked it up, checked the screen and frowned. Her eyes were tight with concern.

  ‘Now, call for help and try to get someone to believe I’m holding you prisoner here on your wedding night...’ He nodded to the mobile clasped in her hands. ‘Or tell me how you got that money.’

  She hesitated a short while, then her expression changed as if she’d dismissed whatever had been troubling her. A soft, knowing smile played on her lips. She was making him wait.

  It had the desired effect. Christo savoured the warm lick of anticipation curling on its seductive journey through him. He might have smiled too, but he didn’t want to show her he was enjoying this far more than he should.

  ‘My father thought paid work beneath any daughter of his. But he always expected me to dress impeccably so people wouldn’t talk,’ she sneered. ‘He paid me an occasional allowance, which Elena banked in that account. So I wouldn’t be discovered, she gave me her clothes once she’d worn them a few times. Her father was a generous man, so he never noticed her constantly needing new things.’

  A clever scheme—as far as it went. ‘Well, it seems you’re more frugal than I imagined. Lucky me. But that still doesn’t explain how you accumulated so much.’

  ‘I’ve been planning from the moment I turned eighteen and received my first “pay” for being a compliant daughter. Five years of saving. But that was never going to be enough. So I learned the stock market, investing... Turns out I was quite successful.’

  Thea sat forward, talking with her eyes and body and hands. Bristling with an uncommon fire and passion. Dangerously sparking his. This woman—his wife... He now questioned whether he should have married her, or employed her.

  ‘Do you have any investment tips for me?’ Christo took another sip of his cognac.

  Thea smirked. ‘I hear Atlas Shipping’s doing quite well. Perhaps even better now, with an advantageous marriage between its owner and the daughter of Greece’s biggest banker.’

  On paper, of course, she was correct. But his father’s unfortunate dealings with hers had risked more than anyone knew.

  ‘Since I own the company, investing there would be pointless. I want to diversify.’

  Of course he didn’t own the company quite yet. He shared it with his father. Which was what had necessitated this impossible situation.

  She sighed. Rolled her eyes. ‘There’s a tech start-up in the States. The talk is that they’ve increased the capacity for solar cell efficiency to eighty percent. It’ll make a small fortune.’ She looked him up and down, as if inspecting something unpleasant. ‘Not that you need it.’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘I’ll let you know tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Once you’ve agreed to a divorce and given me the contents of that envelope.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  THEA SMILED. CHRISTO’S face wasn’t so impassive now. His head was cocked to one side, pinning her with his hard green eyes. He slowly rolled the brandy balloon in his hands and took another sip.

  Christo didn’t want a clever wife; he wanted a compliant wife. She’d never be that, ceding her precious freedom to a husband. A quick divorce and he could find himself another woman. One who might even like to be with him, or to sleep in that bed which looked big enough to have a party on.

  Heat flooded to her cheeks, slid through her blood. Not that she’d ever think about parties in his bed, or what sort of parties he might have there. No way.

  ‘Unfortunately, I require a wife. Since I have you, I don’t see any point looking for another.’

  She clenched her hands, the edges of her mobile phone cutting into her palms. There had to be a way out of this. Alexis would know what to do if she asked, but her texts lay unanswered.

  She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the nerves roiling in her stomach. She’d come too far to fail. Time to start negotiations to release her from this disastrous union.

  Although she doubted Christo had any, Thea appealed to his better judgement. ‘I don’t want to be your wife. And you don’t want me. I know. Why settle for this? You could find someone else. Someone you love.’

  He lounged back on the couch, impossibly masculine with his shirt part open, showing a dark sprinkling of hair on that strong chest. A shadow of growth now adorned his jaw. She’d never looked at a man before—not unfiltered like this—and he was mesmerising. He drained his drink. As he leaned forward to place his glass on the table he licked his full bottom lip. A seductive pulse sparked deep and low in her belly.

  ‘I’ve no interest in love.’ His lazy, heavy-lidded gaze fixed on her. Assessing. ‘So, for now, I’m keeping you.’

  The folded paper with her account numbers gleamed a taunting white in his hand. Christo turned it over in his fingers, flicking it backwards and forwards. But his eyes never left her.

  She slumped in her chair. There was going to be no negotiation here. She was a prisoner. Just as with her father and Demetri. A pawn in some scheme between rich, powerful men.

  She clenched her teeth. ‘You’re a monster.’

  He shrugged and smiled. It should have been friendly enough, but the way he bared his perfect white teeth looked a little...carnivorous. Still, she wouldn’t waver. She wasn’t scared of him—not this man.

  ‘Yes. Though on some days I’m only human,’ he said. ‘You’d do well to remember that.’

  She glanced over at the enormous bed again. Did he mean she could buy her freedom another way? There was a presence about him. Muscular, powerful, superior. Maybe some women craved that in a man. Would relish running their fingers through his spiky dark hair. Live to drown in the depths of his hazel-green eyes.

  She wasn’t one of them.

  Christo followed her gaze and looked back at her through steepled fingers.

  ‘Tired, Thea? It has been a long day.’ His perfectly etched lips tilted at the corners. ‘So let’s stop toying with each other. My father’s will stipulates that to inherit Atlas Shipping I must have a wife. Since you’ve married me, I’m not letting you go till he’s dead and buried.’

  Threads of fear wrapped around Thea’s throat, tightening till she gasped for breath. Her heart pummelled her ribs. How old was Christo’s father? This could go on for years.

  She couldn’t.

  She wouldn’t...

  Christo leaned forward. ‘There’s no point hiding the truth from you. Not now.’

  How
could he sit there so calmly, as if this sort of thing happened to him every day?

  Her phone fell from her hand into her lap. She curled her freed fingers into her palm, concentrating on the bite of her nails on the soft flesh. Her breathing steadied.

  ‘How’s your father’s health?’

  Christo smiled. ‘My father’s ill. Terminally so. Although his condition has stabilised of late. But I appreciate your concern.’

  Thea stilled. She knew too well the pain of losing a beloved parent before their time. The emptiness that followed. No matter what was happening here, she wouldn’t dance around his father’s waiting grave.

  ‘That’s why he wasn’t at our wedding? I wondered...’ she said, though it didn’t explain why his mother hadn’t been there either. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Christo waved the words away. ‘Don’t be. He has time.’

  A chill spread through her. The man was like a glacier. Frozen, immovable. A shudder racked her body. If he didn’t care about his dying father, he’d never care about what she wanted. She clenched her fists even tighter. The sharp slice of her fingernails branded her palms, yet the trembling in her limbs wouldn’t stop.

  ‘I’m not a cruel man. Although I had some fine teachers.’

  His voice was gentle. Were those words supposed to be something like reassurance? Because she knew about cruelty too. Her father and Demetri were masters. She’d lived with it all her life and she saw its hallmarks in Christo. The arrogance, the superiority. The assurance that there was no other way but his.

  ‘If you’re not cruel, we can divorce.’

  Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears. The room folded in, its walls seeming too close. Her vision faded around the edges as her pulse sped to an inhuman speed.

  Not here, not now.

  She breathed through the moment until everything came back into focus.

  ‘My father hasn’t long to live. Twelve months at most. So his doctors say.’ He looked down at his hands, now clasped in front of him. ‘I don’t have time to divorce and remarry. When he dies, I’ll grant what you want.’

  ‘Why me?’

  She wanted to know why she’d been chosen as a piece in this game. Her father hadn’t told her, other than giving her a list of information he required about Atlas Shipping.

  ‘You were available.’

  ‘And you say you’re not a cruel man? If that’s all it needed, no doubt there were any number of women who would have thrown themselves at your feet if you’d asked.’

  ‘I need you, Thea.’

  His words were rich and silky and they wound around her like treacherous ribbons, tying her to the spot. She should get up...shout, rage. But she couldn’t. Her skin prickled uncomfortably. She unzipped her jacket as perspiration slicked the back of her neck.

  Christo went on. ‘You’re clearly a businesswoman, so I don’t expect you to agree to this undertaking for free. Your funds will be increased and returned.’

  Freedom. At a price.

  She could leave now—assuming Christo let her, and that was in some doubt—but she had little doubt that if she walked out tonight, she’d go with nothing.

  The curl of fear gripped her again. She’d witnessed her mother being turned against by family and friends because of her choice to escape Tito Lambros. The man she’d never loved. Even as a child Thea had recognised her mother’s deprivations. Maria had always looked so thin and starved...of everything.

  She’d never forgotten her mother’s words of advice. Don’t do what I did. Ensure your future above all things.

  And if she left, where would she go? Elena’s father and Thea’s father were friends. She’d be returned to Christo and then...

  No. There was only Alexis. Surely he’d done what he’d promised? Taken his money and left Greece?

  The fear that he might not have began to throttle her. Dark visions chasing her and biting at her heels.

  ‘You’re thinking too hard, Thea.’

  Christo’s voice dripped calm patience. He was trying to seduce her into a deal with the devil. She was trapped. Exchanging one silk-lined prison for another.

  ‘How can I trust you?’ she asked.

  He relaxed in the chair, a slight smile tilting his lips. He saw victory in his sights—she was sure of it. She wanted to keep him talking so she could think.

  ‘All that I ask is we stay married until I inherit Atlas Shipping in full.’ He stood and began unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. ‘I’ll have our negotiations committed to a formal document. A post-nuptial agreement, so to speak.’

  He shrugged the crisp cotton from his shoulders, grabbed his suit jacket, her envelope and account numbers, and then turned.

  ‘I’ll give you a few moments to think about it.’

  Thea froze. All she could do was watch as he strolled into a huge walk-in wardrobe. Transfixed by his broad, powerful shoulders. The way his back muscles flexed and moved with every step.

  Somewhere in the depths of the room she heard the rush of a shower. Imagined hot water running over the ridges and hollows of Christo’s tanned skin, taut over muscle...

  Thea shook herself, lifting the spell. She needed to speak to Alexis.

  Grabbing her phone, she texted.

  Bluebird

  Their code if she needed help. The one word he’d never ignore.

  She waited for a response. Something. Anything.

  No answer came.

  She clenched her fists. Concentrated on the bite of her nails into her palms as she slowed her breathing.

  ‘Have you decided?’

  That deep velvet voice rolled over her, interrupting her dark thoughts. Christo wandered into the room wearing only long black silk pyjama pants, slung low around his narrow hips, where they seemed to have found an unsettling home. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his elegantly muscled torso. A sprinkling of hair on his chest arrowed down his body in a line between the ridges of his abdomen, before disappearing underneath the waistband of his pyjamas.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Her voice came out a little too high. She took in a breath. The intoxicating scent of warm soap and clean male skin teased her senses.

  Christo raised his eyebrows. His hair clung damp to his head. A few drops of water still sparkled on his shoulders. ‘It’s been a long and exciting day. I’m preparing for bed.’

  ‘Put on some clothes. This...’ she flapped her hand about in his direction, averting her eyes ‘...it’s impolite.’

  ‘Since I usually sleep naked, I consider the way I’m dressed to be the height of good manners. What’s your decision?’

  Out on the streets with nothing, there would be little she could do to help her half-brother, if that’s what he needed. Here, she had a chance. Some resources even without her money. She would put up with anything to ensure Alexis was safe. She owed him that much.

  ‘I agree.’

  She hated the smug curl of Christo’s sensual mouth as she spoke.

  ‘There are other conditions,’ he said.

  Thea narrowed her eyes. Of course there were. ‘And they are?’

  ‘This must, in every way, appear like a real marriage.’

  ‘How does a “real marriage” appear?’

  She had no idea. Her mother had left the brutality of the marital bed when Thea was young. She had no memories of anything other than the beautiful, broken woman Maria Lambros had become.

  ‘We’re happy newlyweds. Being faithful to each other is one condition. I’m sure you can use your imagination for the rest. You talked about marrying for love before.’

  He walked to the huge bed, threw back the covers and lay down in masculine splendour, patting the space next to him.

  ‘I said I wasn’t sleeping with you!’

  ‘I assumed you meant sex,’ he said. Thea flushed br
ight and hot. The way that word slid syrupy from his tongue sounded dark, decadent and very, very dirty. ‘Which has nothing to do with sleeping.’

  ‘No. I meant I wasn’t going to share your bed. Where am I going to sleep?’

  ‘There’s plenty of room here. You can trust me.’

  She looked again at that enormous piece of furniture. With him all bronzed perfection like a god, at its centre. ‘I’m not—’

  ‘So you can’t trust yourself?’

  He smiled. And this smile wasn’t predatory or wolf-like. His face lit up with warmth in his lips, dancing eyes. It made her all tight and shivery, as if she was about to burst from her skin.

  ‘I need my own room.’

  ‘If you move to your own room when we’re newly married we’ll be exposed.’

  And then it dawned on her what she had really agreed to. She’d not been concentrating as they’d talked, and Christo had outplayed her. Still, there was a possibility of rectifying the situation...

  Thea waved at the sitting room area. ‘A gentleman would take the couch.’

  Christo sat up and skewered her with a fierce, hot glare. ‘When I married you today I assumed it would be real enough. Arranged? Yes. Unwelcome? Absolutely. But real, nonetheless. That means sleeping in my bed, with my wife. None of this arrangement means I’ll be relegated to the couch. If you want it, it’s yours.’

  He flopped back down onto the covers, with his arms behind his head.

  Infuriating man.

  Thea peeled away her leather jacket. Tore off her boots. She stormed into the still humid en suite bathroom, removed her top and battled with her corset, breathing a sigh as the laces were released. She cast it into a corner, slipped on her black top again and pulled the pins from her hair. They scattered on the benchtop as she raked her hands through it to untangle the braiding. She wiped off her make-up.

  All right, she’d play his little game. For now. But what was she going to wear to sleep? The maids had packed her an exotic trousseau, with a variety of the skimpy nightwear her father’s latest mistress deemed she required to entertain ‘a man like Christo Callas’.