The Greek's Convenient Wife

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  She had no choice but to acknowledge Jeremy Myalls as he sauntered over, a drink in his hand and a smile lifting one edge of his mouth as his eyes ran over her.

  ‘Don’t tell me Demetrius has deserted you already?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She reached for her cocktail. ‘I’m just about to go upstairs to pack for our honeymoon.’

  She hoped she was giving a convincing picture of the happy bride anticipating her first night of marriage but somehow something in Jeremy’s expression informed her she hadn’t been all that successful.

  ‘I would’ve thought that a superfluous task,’ he commented lazily. ‘The last thing one needs on one’s honeymoon is clothes.’

  She felt her cheeks grow warm as a vision of Demetrius without clothing flitted into her mind. She could almost see the ripple of toned muscles, the long hard flanks of his thighs and what lay potently between them…

  She tossed back the rest of her drink and got to her feet with a wavering smile. ‘I’d better be going. Have a nice evening, Mr Myalls.’

  ‘Jeremy,’ he insisted, touching her arm for a second or two longer than necessary.

  ‘Jeremy,’ she repeated.

  ‘Have a great honeymoon,’ he added as she went past.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She got to the lifts and stabbed at the call button. The doors sprang open and she pressed the button for the penthouse floor, leaning back against the mirrored panels as a sweeping tiredness overcame her. A combination of emotional distress and an unfamiliar amount of alcohol had finally taken its toll. All she wanted to do was find a quiet room and fall into a dreamless sleep.

  The lift opened with a soft mechanical hiss and she stepped out. She reached for her key card but before she could swipe it the door of the penthouse opened and Demetrius stood there, his dark eyes noting the suddenly guilty look in her blue gaze.

  ‘What took you so long? Did you take the stairs?’

  ‘The lift was slow.’ She avoided his eyes. ‘It stopped at every floor.’ She brushed past him to enter the penthouse but before she could get by he reached out a hand and stalled her, swinging her around to face him.

  ‘Something you’d do very well to take note of before this marriage is much older is that I won’t tolerate being lied to. Is that clear?’

  She lifted her chin to meet his dark gaze. ‘There’s something you need to take note of as well; I won’t be manhandled by you whenever you feel like it.’ She wrenched her arm from his grasp and glared up at him.

  ‘Who were you with just then?’ he growled at her.

  She took offence at his proprietorial manner even while part of her insisted she tell him what had taken place in the bar with Jeremy Myalls. Her concerns about Kyle, however, overruled her conscience; she owed Demetrius nothing, she reminded herself. He’d blackmailed her into this arrangement and she didn’t have to answer to him about her movements.

  ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ she taunted. ‘I could, of course, ask you the very same question.’

  ‘But you already know the answer, don’t you, Maddison?’

  She did and it sickened her to be reminded of it. ‘I have no interest in your affair with Elena Tsoulis. It’s nothing to me.’

  ‘Not the least bit jealous?’

  ‘Why should I be jealous?’ She met his dark satirical gaze with defiance. ‘I don’t care what you do with other women as long as you don’t expect me to join the throng.’

  ‘Are you worried I might insist on my conjugal rights?’

  ‘Not the least bit worried,’ she lied.

  ‘You trust me that far?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I don’t trust you at all, but I can assure you if you try to coerce me I’m sure I’ll have the willpower to withstand any of your paltry attempts to seduce me.’

  ‘Paltry attempts?’ He tasted the words as a smile played at his lips. ‘Is that your assessment thus far?’

  She gave him a fulminating look. ‘You’ll have to try much harder, Demetrius Papasakis, if you want me to capitulate to your particular version of charm. I like my men honest and up front, not conniving and calculating.’

  ‘Conniving and calculating am I now? What a deplorable opinion you have of me. I see I shall have to work extra hard to change your mind then.’

  ‘Even if you sprouted wings and a halo I wouldn’t be all that impressed.’

  He gave a soft laugh as he looked down at her infuriated features.

  ‘No, I can see it’s going to take a whole lot more to convince you I’m not quite the devil you think I am. But we have a few months, so who knows what will happen between now and then?’

  ‘I can make a fair guess. I’m going to hate you even more than I do now.’

  ‘Those are fighting words.’ He touched a long finger down the curve of her cheek as his eyes burned into hers. ‘And I for one just love a fight.’

  Maddison opened her mouth to speak but before the words could come out his head came down and his firm mouth covered hers.

  As much as she fought against it she felt desire tug at her insides as his tongue unfolded inside her mouth, drawing from her the sort of response she’d had no intention of giving. She felt as if he had taken control of her will, turning her to mouldable putty in his hands as soon as he touched her. His lips were warm and coercive, his tongue commanding and alluring as it duelled with hers in a battle to conquer. She was losing ground fast, her legs softening beneath her until she was sure she was going to slip to a pool of feeling at his feet. His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. She felt the hard thrust of his aroused length against her, its implacable presence a reminder of his superior strength and her capitulating weakness.

  She wanted him.

  She wanted him as she had wanted no one before. Her untutored body was clamouring for a release she knew instinctively he would give unreservedly, powerfully, unforgettably.

  He pressed her back against the wall as he continued his assault on her senses. His teeth took her bottom lip in a grazing hold, only to release it for his tongue to salve its swollen surface in a sensuous glide that sent arrows of hot need to her very core, his body grinding into hers, leaving her in no doubt of his pulsing need.

  He lifted his mouth off hers to look down at her, his breathing uneven, his eyes aflame with desire.

  ‘Still hate me?’

  She sent her tongue out to her lips before answering. ‘As much as ever, if not more so.’

  ‘Good.’ His smile was mocking. ‘I wouldn’t want the war to be over just yet. I have a few more battles to win first.’

  ‘This is all a game to you, isn’t it?’ she tossed at him crossly. ‘A game where only you can win because you keep changing the rules.’

  ‘The rules are the same as arranged.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ She gave him a cynical look. ‘What about the hands-off bit of our arrangement?’

  ‘I won’t force you to do anything you’re not prepared to do.’

  ‘How absolutely typical! No, you won’t force me but you’ll make it damn near impossible to resist!’

  He quirked a dark brow expressively. ‘So you do admit to being tempted?’

  ‘No!’ she denied hotly. ‘I admit nothing.’

  His smile deepened as he watched the colour fire in her cheeks. ‘Come now, Maddison; let’s not start our honeymoon on the wrong foot. Pack; we’ll be leaving in ten minutes.’

  ‘I don’t want to go on a honeymoon. I don’t want to go anywhere with you.’

  ‘Ten minutes, Maddison or I’ll carry you down to the car in what you’re wearing.’

  His eyes challenged her to defy him and she lost a whole minute trying to win that round.

  ‘Nine minutes,’ he said. ‘And still counting.’

  She swung away on a furious breath and, stalking to the spare bedroom, slammed the door behind her.

  Throwing her wedding dress to one side, she dressed in casual clothes before stuffing a few items of clothing in a weekend bag as wel
l as her toiletries from the bathroom, all the while fuming at his overbearing manner, he treated her as if she were a particularly recalcitrant child who needed a firm hand.

  She had to learn how to resist him! What was wrong with her? She hated him more than anyone she could think of, so why couldn’t she resist his mouth and hands? It didn’t make sense.

  She’d always imagined desire and love to be inextricably linked, for women at least, if not for men. And Demetrius Papasakis was the worst kind of man with whom to get involved—a wealthy playboy with a sexual history that probably read longer than War and Peace.

  She had no business feeling attracted to him, especially when he could so easily destroy her brother’s future with a single phone call to the police. She had to stop herself from responding to him!

  She joined him in the spacious lounge, her features still set in mutinous lines, her anger at him pulsing inside her so heavily it took everything she possessed to contain it.

  Anger was good. She had to keep angry at him no matter what.

  Demetrius took her bag without a word and she snatched her hand away as his fingers touched hers.

  ‘I’ve asked for my car to be brought around to the front of the hotel,’ he said. ‘I hope I don’t need to remind you we will be in the presence of other people for a few minutes.’

  ‘I’m surprised you don’t carry around a clipboard and scene cutting card,’ she threw at him scornfully. ‘Just so I don’t miss my cue.’

  He gave her a hard look as he opened the door. ‘Behave yourself, Maddison,’ he warned. ‘Remember your brother’s continued freedom depends on it.’

  She followed him to the lift, relieved that no one was in it so she had a little more time to prepare herself. The thought of pretending to be in love with him was anathema to her in her current state of heightened rage. She couldn’t help feeling he’d deliberately goaded her to make the task even more difficult for her.

  The lift doors opened and she fixed a smile on her face as they made their way to the front doors of the hotel.

  ‘Good evening, Mr and Mrs Papasakis,’ the evening duty manager said as they moved past reception.

  ‘Thank you, Eric,’ Demetrius responded. ‘Have a good one yourself.’

  Instead of his usual black Jaguar, a large four-wheel drive vehicle was waiting for him, growling like a predatory animal in the driveway.

  Maddison sent him another fake smile as he held her door for her, conscious of the baggage boy loading their things into the car.

  ‘Thank you…darling.’

  His eyes sent her a warning that caused a flicker of sensation to settle between her thighs. She snapped her knees together as he closed the door, trying not to watch as he strode around to the driver’s side but unable to stop herself. He had such a commanding presence, his height and stance so compelling she had to forcibly drag her gaze away to stare at her hands in her lap instead.

  The car prowled out of the driveway with a low pitched roar, leaving the city behind within a few short minutes.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked in a stiff voice.

  She felt his sideways glance but didn’t turn his way.

  ‘I have a little place in the country,’ he informed her. ‘At Black Rock Mountain.’

  She’d never heard of Black Rock Mountain but she could just imagine his little place; it was no doubt huge, with every mod con and a team of obsequious staff to satisfy his every need.

  ‘Another one of your hotels?’ Disdain coloured her tone.

  ‘No, strange as it may seem to you, I don’t spend all of my time in my hotels.’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She sent him a scathing look. ‘You spend a great deal of your time in your many lovers’ bedrooms. How silly of me to forget.’

  His eyes met hers in the intimate darkness of the car as he stopped at traffic lights.

  A strange tension began to build in the stretching silence as the powerful car thrummed beneath his control. She couldn’t help thinking that somehow he was communicating something through the way he drove it to warn her about him—the tightly leashed power straining underneath his hands, waiting for the command to let go, with no doubt devastating results for anything or anyone who stood in its way.

  Yes, the powerful vehicle was definitely an extension of him and she’d do very well to be mindful of it. He could strike without warning, pounce on her, and consume her totally.

  The lights changed and the car surged forward with a screech of tyres, the g force sending her backwards in her seat.

  He didn’t say a word but his silence spoke a thousand for him.

  He overtook six cars at a stretch once they hit the motorway, one hand on the wheel, the other resting idly on the arm rest, his dark features set in stone, his expression unreadable.

  Maddison found the experience of sitting beside him unnerving to say the least. The silence was intimidating, and even though she speculated on what he was thinking beneath that implacable mask he was impossible to read, which intensified her disquiet.

  She stared out at the dark shapes of trees as they flashed past, the rhythmic motion finally completing the work her earlier cocktail and emotional rollercoaster of a day hadn’t quite managed to do. Her eyelids dropped, her shoulders relaxed and her head shifted sideways until it rested against the leather upholstery.

  The car came to a stop and she jerked awake. ‘Where are we?’

  He killed the engine and the sudden encroaching darkness as the headlights snapped off felt instantly menacing.

  ‘We’re at my retreat.’

  She peered out into the impenetrable darkness of the moonless night. She couldn’t see any sign of a plush hotel, nor indeed any sort of high life mansion. All she could make out in the darkness was a small hutlike structure that looked as if it badly needed a coat of paint.

  ‘This is it?’ She gave him an incredulous look.

  He opened the car door and the interior light came on. ‘This is it.’

  She watched as he unfolded his long length from the car and went around to the back to take something from the boot.

  A torch snapped on and in its arc of light she could see the hut more clearly.

  It wasn’t all that encouraging.

  It was hardly the place one would expect to spend a honeymoon, even a pretend one, she decided as she got out of the car.

  Demetrius had taken the torch with him to unlock the door of the hut, but privately Maddison wondered why he’d felt the need to lock it in the first place. The thick bush surrounding them acted as a screen for absolute privacy; it was quite clear no one would accidentally stumble upon the place unless they’d been given specific directions.

  She stood back as he opened the weathered timber door, hoping no scurrying critters had taken up residence in his absence.

  ‘Aren’t you going to switch the lights on?’ she asked once he got inside.

  He came back out and shone the torch in her face. ‘There are no lights.’

  She held up her hand against the glare of the torchlight. ‘What do you mean there aren’t any lights?’

  He shifted the torch beam so she could open her eyes. ‘There’s no power here.’

  ‘No power?’ She gaped at him. ‘Hello? This is the twenty-first century. Everyone this side of Bourke has power!’

  ‘Not this place.’

  ‘Why the hell not?’

  He stepped down the timber steps and the torch hit her in the face again.

  ‘Will you stop waving that thing in my face all the time?’

  ‘Sorry.’ He snapped it off.

  ‘No!’ She clutched at him in the darkness. ‘Turn it back on!’

  ‘What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re frightened of the dark.’

  She was twenty-four years old. How the hell could she admit to anyone, least of all him, that she was absolutely terrified of the dark?

  ‘No, of course not!’ She forced herself to step back from him. ‘I just don’t want to lose my footi
ng on this rough ground.’ She was pleased with her explanation; it sounded reasonable enough to be convincing.

  ‘You go inside,’ he said. ‘I’ll bring in the things from the car.’

  She stood uncertainly, staring through the inky darkness at the black hole of the door.

  ‘I’ll help you.’ She swung around to follow him, her feet almost tripping over themselves in her haste.

  ‘Careful,’ he warned as he shone the torch across the ground at her feet. ‘You don’t want to break a leg out here.’

  ‘I should have thought of that earlier,’ she muttered under her breath as she hovered around the edges of his torch beam like a tiny ineffectual moth that had nothing better to do.

  ‘What was that?’ The torch hit her in the eyes again.

  ‘Nothing.’ She shielded her face.

  She heard him gather their belongings and crept closer, trying to stay somewhere within the soft beam of light under his command.

  ‘Here, you take the torch.’ He handed it to her. ‘I’ll take the bags.’

  She clutched at the cylindrical tube like a drowning person did a lifeboat.

  ‘Watch out for spiders,’ he said as they entered the hut.

  She almost dropped the torch as she swung it around to his face. ‘Spiders?’

  He pushed her arm down so the light was out of his eyes. ‘There’s not a single spider in here, I can assure you.’

  Relief sent her breath out in a rush. ‘Phew!’

  ‘They’re all married with large families,’ he added with a teasing smile.

  Cold fear trickled along her spine. In fact she couldn’t help thinking a hundred spiders were making their way up to the back of her neck with tiny feathering steps.

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  ‘You are scared.’

  ‘No!’ She denied it with sinking courage. ‘I can handle a few harmless spiders.’ She disguised her shudder well, she thought, glad of the cloak of darkness for probably the very first time in her life.

  ‘I have matches and candles somewhere.’ He began searching along what appeared to be a mantle shelf.

  She watched as he lit a spindly candle, the tiny flame highlighting his dark satirical features as he turned to face her.