The Greek's Convenient Wife

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  He liked to score conversational points, but surely that came from managing his successful empire. He’d never have survived in the cut and thrust of the business world without a talent for debating the point.

  But did he have a human heart beating in that broad chest as Nessa had indicated? Could he be taught to trust and love instead of viewing the world through jaded, cynical eyes? And, more to the point—was she the person to teach him?

  Once they arrived back at the hotel, Demetrius’s position as both owner and resident became instantly apparent in the speed by which their things were spirited up to the penthouse via the service lifts while the car was valet-parked.

  Maddison stood beside him in the guest lift, relieved no one else was there so she didn’t have to stand within his embrace in case she betrayed herself.

  She felt his solid presence in every cell of her body as he stood silently at her shoulder, his long legs slightly apart, his dark unreadable eyes on the illuminated numbers above their heads.

  It seemed the longest lift journey in her life, the pulsing silence a form of torture to her in her overwrought emotional state.

  The lift opened and he indicated for her to precede him. She moved past without a word and waited as he swiped his key card in the lock.

  ‘I’m going to shower and shave,’ he said as the door shut behind him.

  Maddison brushed a strand of her hair away from her face in what he was starting to recognise as one of her nervous gestures.

  ‘You have your own bathroom so don’t think that your privacy will be compromised,’ he added tightly.

  Maddison didn’t know quite what to make of his mood. She sensed a brooding anger in his aloof stance but wasn’t sure if it were directed at her or the circumstances that had brought them together.

  She pressed her lips together and tried to think of something to say but he got in first.

  ‘For God’s sake stop looking at me like that,’ he growled. ‘I’m not going to throw you to the floor and ravish you.’

  She blinked at the rough delivery of his words.

  ‘And don’t give me that injured martyr look either.’ He glared down at her.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She finally found her voice and her spirit. ‘Would you like me to walk around with a paper bag over my head so I don’t continue to offend you with my various expressions?’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  Blue eyes clashed with brown but for once he was the first to look away. He turned on his heel and strode towards the master bedroom, tossing over his shoulder, ‘If you’re hungry, order room service. I’m going out.’

  The bedroom door acted as a punctuation mark on his curtly delivered statement.

  ‘Good,’ she said under her breath, fighting back tears. ‘Go to your stupid mistress—see if I care.’

  She heard him return at three in the morning.

  His footsteps stilled outside her door and she held her breath, wishing she’d had the courage to snap off the lamp before she’d gone to bed.

  She sensed his hesitation, as if he wasn’t sure whether to go in and turn off her light at the risk of waking her.

  The seconds pulsed inside her head as she waited for him to decide, but a few moments later when she heard his footsteps move on down the hall she was annoyed with herself for the rush of disappointment she felt.

  She turned over to her side and stared at the door as if willing him to open it and come and gather her into his arms and make her properly his in every sense of the word.

  She heard the faint hiss of a bathroom tap being turned on and off, and then the sound of his shoes thudding to the floor as if he’d kicked them off impatiently. She heard a swift sharp expletive as something toppled over and crashed to the floor, and wondered if he had been drinking.

  The minutes ticked by until eventually all was silent.

  Maddison felt her eyelids dropping, felt too the gradual relaxation of tense muscles throughout her body, and the almost imperceptible slide of conscious thoughts into the unconscious…

  She woke to the sound of a hacking cough.

  With the barest hesitation she threw off the bedcovers and without stopping to pick up a wrap, padded down the hall towards the master bedroom.

  She gave the door a little knock but apart from a particularly vicious swear word from inside there was no other response.

  ‘Are you all right, Demetrius?’ she called out, leaning in to the door to catch a response.

  The door suddenly opened wide. She stumbled forwards in surprise and would have ended up against his chest if he hadn’t steadied her with one hand.

  He was dressed in a pair of boxer shorts and nothing else, his towering frame intimidating to say the very least.

  ‘What do you want?’ he growled down at her as he let go of her upper arm.

  Maddison’s gaze swept over him in concern.

  He was quite clearly running a fever from the flushed look of his features; his dark eyes were dull and his forehead heavily creased as if the morning light was too much for him to bear.

  ‘You look terrible,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my appearance.’

  ‘You’re sick.’

  ‘So you’ve said before.’

  She rolled her eyes at him for reminding her of one of her previous insults. ‘I mean really sick. I think you need to see a doctor.’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll survive.’ He leant against the open door, his expression clearly indicating he wanted her to leave.

  Maddison stood her ground, her lips set in a determined line as she faced him. He held her look for a moment or two before abandoning the door to turn away, his hand brushing over his face as if trying to eradicate the pain from behind his eyes.

  ‘Have you got a headache?’ she asked.

  ‘Go away, Maddison. I don’t like spectators when I’m not feeling one hundred per cent.’

  ‘You should take something to bring your fever down.’

  ‘And you should take my advice and get out of here before you catch whatever bug I’ve picked up.’ The tone of his voice belied any concern he might have for her health but she refused to be daunted.

  ‘Go back to bed,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you some painkillers.’

  He muttered something under his breath which sounded to her as if he were berating the whole of her sex and not just her, but he did go back to the crumpled mess of his bed to lie down.

  She came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and two of the painkillers she carried with her in her handbag at all times.

  ‘Here you go.’ She placed them in the cup of his palm and steadied the glass for him to take a mouthful.

  He tossed the pills into his mouth and took a deep draught of the water, lying back on the pillows as if in exhaustion, his eyes shut and his normally tanned face pale.

  She reached out her hand and placed it softly against his damp brow, frowning at the heat coming off him.

  ‘You’re hot as fire.’

  He brushed at her hand as if shooing an annoying fly away from his face. ‘Stop fussing, will you?’

  ‘But you’re so unwell,’ she protested. ‘Have you had the flu this year?’

  He covered his eyes with the back of one hand. ‘No, now go away.’

  ‘Is your throat sore?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘Are your muscles aching?’

  He opened one eye and glowered at her. ‘Get out of here, Maddison. I don’t need your little nurse routine, OK?’

  She held his glare patiently, as if out-staring a particularly recalcitrant child. ‘You need to keep your fluids up.’

  ‘You need to get out of here,’ he gritted.

  ‘And maybe something to eat, like soup or—’

  The bedcovers were suddenly flung back and he launched out of the bed, stumbling in the direction of the en suite bathroom.

  She winced as she heard the sounds of him being horribly ill, instantly re

calling how she’d felt as the contents of the creek left her stomach the day before.

  She pushed open the bathroom door and found him leaning over the basin, his face an even more ghastly white than before.

  He turned his head to growl something at her but another bout of nausea hit him and he bent to the basin once more.

  Maddison reached for a face cloth and, quickly rinsing it under the shower, came back to press it to the back of his neck.

  ‘Go away,’ he groaned but the fight had gone out of his voice.

  She wiped away the gathered beads of perspiration in gentle sweeping movements and watched with considerable satisfaction as his tension gradually began to ease.

  ‘This wasn’t part of the marriage deal.’ He addressed the plug rather than meet her eyes in the mirror in front of him.

  ‘I know,’ she said, moving the cool cloth to the furnace of his brow. ‘We’ll settle the account later.’

  He grunted but didn’t resist when she moved the cloth over his bare shoulders.

  ‘Why don’t you have a shower while I change the bed?’ she suggested after a few minutes.

  He dragged himself to his feet against the basin and met her clear blue gaze. ‘Why are you doing this?’

  She rinsed the cloth rather than hold his fevered look. ‘It’s no fun being ill.’

  ‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t exactly call it entertaining watching someone with the flu.’

  ‘I’m not watching you, I’m helping you.’

  ‘You’re annoying me, that’s what you’re doing.’

  ‘Touché,’ she returned with a pert little smile. ‘Now get in the shower while I see to your bed.’

  He looked as if he were about to argue about it a little more but then he sighed, stepped out of his boxer shorts and turned on the shower.

  It was her cue to leave and, even though she couldn’t quite prevent her eyes from dipping below his waist, she reassured herself that he probably was too ill to notice.

  He wasn’t.

  He came out a few minutes later to find her smoothing over the linen of the freshly made bed, her soft smile transforming her face as she faced him.

  ‘Feel better?’

  He gave her a grudging nod and sat on the edge of the bed, the towel about his waist slipping to reveal the line of his tan.

  He saw the flicker of interest in her eyes even though she tried to disguise it. She appeared slightly flustered as she pulled back the covers, turning her head as he removed the towel.

  ‘I’ll…I’ll go and get you a drink,’ she stammered on her way out of the room.

  Demetrius lay his aching head back on the fragrant linen and closed his eyes, but a small smile played about his mouth all the same.

  Maddison didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried when she returned a few minutes later to find him deeply asleep.

  She considered calling a doctor, but when she pressed her hand to his forehead it seemed a fraction less hot and his body was no longer sweating profusely as it had been before.

  She drew up a chair next to the bed and watched him as he slept, relishing in the freedom of exploring his features without the disturbance of his penetrating dark gaze.

  He was far more handsome than he needed to be, she decided after a long perusal of his aristocratic brow. His square jaw was far too determined, and his mouth much too sensual. His nose looked as if it had received a decent knock some time in the past but its slight irregularity took nothing away from his overall attractiveness.

  He turned in his sleep and the sheet slipped, revealing the ridged muscles of his abdomen. She wanted to reach out and trace her fingers along each line, feel the bunching of muscle, the leashed power in his lean frame.

  A trail of dark masculine hair arrowed down to where her hands most ached to touch, her fingers actually twitching in her lap as she fought to control the impulse.

  She started when his eyes suddenly opened.

  ‘Oh! You’re awake.’

  He stretched and the sheet slipped another inch.

  ‘What were those pills you gave me?’ he asked.

  ‘Just a strong painkiller,’ she answered, forcing her eyes upwards. ‘Why?’

  ‘They seem to have got rid of my headache in record time. What do you take them for?’

  ‘I need them from time to time for…’ She felt the colour leak into her cheeks and lowered her gaze. ‘For the occasional bad period.’

  She felt the weight of his studied gaze resting on her.

  ‘I thought most young women took the contraceptive pill to counteract those sorts of things,’ he said. ‘But then, as I recall you telling me on a previous occasion, you are not most women.’

  ‘Sorry to inconvenience you by being so unpredictable.’ A touch of sarcasm had crept into her tone before she could stop it.

  ‘You’re not inconveniencing me at all.’ He lay back against the pillows once more and closed his eyes. ‘In fact, quite the contrary.’

  She wasn’t sure what to make of his comment so kept silent.

  After a long pause he opened his eyes again and turned his head towards her. ‘Were you serious about your offer of something to drink?’

  ‘Of course.’ She got to her feet. ‘What would you like?’

  ‘Black tea would be perfect.’

  ‘Would you like some dry toast as well?’

  His dark eyes met hers and held them fast for a timeless moment.

  ‘You’ve obviously been through this routine before,’ he observed.

  She couldn’t help a wry smile. ‘Kyle had a bout of glandular fever a couple of years ago. My bedside manner had dropped off a bit till then.’

  ‘There’s certainly nothing wrong with it now.’

  She told herself she was being ridiculously pathetic for snatching at the casual compliment so gratefully, but she just couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘I’ll go and get your tea.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I won’t be a minute.’

  ‘No hurry.’

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  He opened one eye and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

  ‘Stop trying to be polite.’

  ‘I’m not trying to be polite.’

  ‘Yes, you are.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are and I can’t handle it in my weakened state.’ He gave her one of his rare but totally disarming grins. ‘I’ve got used to you being angry at me all the time. You’re confusing me with this I-really-like-you-after-all routine.’

  She felt a flutter of unease in her stomach. Had she been so transparent?

  ‘I don’t like you at all,’ she countered. ‘I’m just doing what any decent human being would for someone who is suffering.’

  Her reply seemed to annoy him for his features closed over and he shut his eyes once more.

  ‘Black, no sugar,’ he said, effectively dismissing her.

  ‘Black, no sugar, it is.’ She stalked towards the door.

  ‘And dry toast.’

  ‘And dry toast.’

  ‘And Maddison?’

  Her hand stilled on the door knob, her gaze swinging back to his. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said levelly. ‘I really mean it.’

  Her eyes fell away from his as she closed the door behind her without offering a reply.

  She paced the kitchen in agitation as she waited for the kettle to boil, her heart racing at the thought of how unguarded she’d been. What had she been thinking? Staring at him so hungrily like a love-sick schoolgirl!

  She needed her head read.

  He was the enemy, the man who stood between her brother and his freedom. She couldn’t afford to let him see how he affected her. If she did, it would surely be his biggest victory. She’d never be able to protect Kyle if he stormed her defences in such a way. She owed it to her brother and the memory of her father to withstand the temptation, no matter what it cost her.

  A few minutes later Demetrius sipped at his tea and surveyed the apprehensive features of his wife as she sat nervously playing with the band of her wristwatch as she sat on the chair by his bed.

  The toast lay untouched on his plate, his recent bout of nausea making him a little gun-shy of relining his stomach with anything that could make a rapid reappearance.

  He pushed the plate away and leaned on one elbow to face her.

  ‘I need you to meet with Jeremy tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’m in the middle of a big development deal. He can fill you in on all the details.’

  ‘I know nothing of the hotel business!’ She jerked upright in her seat in alarm.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ he reassured her. ‘I just need you to be there in my place. The meeting’s at ten tomorrow.’

  ‘But you might be feeling much better by then and—’

  ‘Maddison—’ his tone stalled her protest ‘—please just do as I say. All you have to do is sit in on the meeting and report anything I need to know back to me. Is that too much to ask?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She stared at her hands in her lap. ‘I just don’t feel all that comfortable with…’ She let her sentence die away. Should she tell him of her increasing uneasiness around Jeremy Myalls?

  ‘Good, that’s settled then.’ His closed eyes and discarded cup indicated the cessation of the conversation.

  Maddison got to her feet and, collecting the plate of untouched toast and drained cup, quietly left the room.

  She was so aware of him in the next room during the long night she hardly slept.

  She heard him use the bathroom in the early hours of the morning but resisted the urge to check on him. She tossed for hours, wondering if he was comfortable or whether his fever had returned. Finally she drifted off into a disturbed period of sleep where she dreamt Jeremy Myalls had a sheaf of papers he kept holding just out of her reach, a taunting smile in his cold blue eyes as he led her further and further away from Demetrius…

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