Because the agreement was that she would need the rings for only two-week stretches, twice a year, when they visited Costas Drakakis in Greece, his ageing, reclusive grandfather whose demands on his grandson had compelled Christos’s proposition to her.
It had all seemed so clear-cut back then—bar those ninety seconds when she’d experienced a depth of terrifying possessiveness and increasing desire to remain in the intoxicating orbit of Christos Drakakis’s success. To know she was a small but key component that made his professional life revolve with oiled smoothness.
In that moment, she’d felt...needed, not an unwanted object to be thrown away as her mother had so effortlessly done mere hours after giving birth to her. Alexis knew deep down that need was what prompted her to agree to the highly irregular proposition. That and the painful but necessary decision she’d made after her one devastating relationship.
She might have accepted that intimacy and marriage weren’t on the cards for her, but that damning need to be wanted, to be needed, the craving to be moored to something stable and solid had never relented.
Once she’d got over those ninety seconds it had been a simple decision. With occasional bouts—deep in the night when she tossed and turned with curious restlessness—of mild astonishment at what she’d done. Thankfully, those moments always took their rightful place at the back of her mind come morning.
‘Alexis, did you hear me?’ came the deep, firm demand.
As if she could dismiss him that easily. As if her every sense weren’t greedily attuned to his every word. As if she didn’t spend every moment of every working hour steeling herself against any betrayal of what his face, his voice, his six-foot-three frame did to her equilibrium.
She’d succeeded. For the most part. Until that night two months ago. When everything had tilted and never quite righted itself again.
She cleared her throat. ‘Of course I heard you. I’m still waiting for an explanation as to the change of plans though.’
A hot flame flickered through his eyes. A temperamental flash that warned her about stepping out of line, while at the same time signalling his respect for standing up to him.
It was a curious expression, that one. It made her daring. It kept her spine straight and her senses alert. It certainly didn’t make things boring around here.
Not that at thirty-three, and as one of the youngest managing partners of an international law firm, Christos Drakakis had ever attracted a label like boring.
From the tips of his close-cropped, so-dark-it-almost-seemed-black hair to the heels of his custom-made Italian shoes, he possessed a bristling energy that encompassed anyone in his vicinity. It was an intensely magnetic force field that commanded attention, which he then held with his steel grey eyes. With that slash of hard but sensual mouth that could cut his opponent to pieces in the courtroom without raising his deep, faintly accented baritone.
Watching him strike ruthless deals across a conference table or walking in a deceptively calm but predatory stride across a courtroom had evoked near hero worship amongst lawyers and staff alike. In Alexis it had evoked a curious mix of awe and mild terror. Of quiet pride. Of an electric hum deep in her belly that she refused to acknowledge or analyse.
She tried to slow her pulse with deep, controlled breaths as he stared at her now, his nostrils flaring ever so briefly before he shoved his hands into his pockets.
‘I haven’t been fully apprised of the reasons. Only that my presence is required in Greece. Which means yours is too, as my wife,’ he drawled.
Wife.
A term she only allowed herself to think about twice a year. A term that fired up tectonic bolts through her system. ‘If you don’t know for sure, then my presence may not be required—’
His headshake cut her off. ‘Our deal was that you would accompany me whenever I visited Drakonisos in return for keeping and maintaining your precious little project.’
Yes, the flip—and more important—side of her deal with Christos. Another desire to feel needed that had kept her tied to the only home she’d ever known.
Hope House.
Her need to keep it from being razed to the ground.
Christos’s agreement to keep the children’s home going in perpetuity in return for her agreement to act as his wife for a minimum of three years. In those restless moments deep in the night, she clung to this reason more than anything else. Because in this, she knew she’d made the right choice. Knew that she hadn’t acted completely rashly when Christos had invited her for a drink in his office and confessed his need for a wife in order to secure his birthright. Hope House, she told herself, was far more important than the intimacy and marriage hopes she’d had to abandon after the emotional wringer she’d been through in her one and only relationship.
Hope House had been her single constant, a solid signpost she could cling to in a life whose beginnings had been murky.
Fresh from a phone call with the distressed director of the children’s home who had taken Alexis in when she’d been abandoned in front of their high-street charity outlet, she’d blurted out her own request.
Curiously, that quid pro quo transaction had pleased Christos. As if her wanting something in return had established the true parameters of their agreement. She’d felt a peculiar sting deep in her chest that she attributed to the extreme relief she’d saved Hope House. That the spread-thin staff who manned the children’s home just outside London would shelter other children, if not from the ever-present abandonment-induced heartache and fear of future rejection, then at least with a roof over their heads.
Viewing it rationally, Alexis knew she was getting the better end of the deal. Seriously, who wouldn’t want a twice-yearly semi-vacation on the jaw-dropping jewel in the Aegean that was Drakonisos?
Except, she’d been unprepared for what those two weeks entailed.
Those extras rushed to the fore now as she stared back at Christos. As she tried, and failed, to keep her pulse under control. To keep that blaze from igniting in her belly, the rush of her blood roaring in her ears.
They would be required to share his suite. Again.
They would be required to hold hands in Costas’s presence. Again.
They would be required to act, for all intents and purposes, as husband and wife. Again.
‘Do I need to remind you of the terms?’ he pressed at her silence.
‘No, but...’
Things have changed, the voice in her head supplied the words she swallowed hastily.
Since that night in his Mayfair penthouse and the insanely delirious encounter on his living-room sofa. Since she’d felt Christos up close and ferociously personal; experienced the heat and taste of him, the lethal, primitive power lurking beneath his hand-stitched suits. The passionate mastery he could command at his fingertips.
‘But?’ he demanded, his voice a touch harder.
‘You have the Kyrios case to work on. Aren’t you looking at a possible new hearing?’
The reminder of the case he’d just lost tightened his features. ‘It will be taken care of by the end of the week. I’ll fly back to attend a hearing if need be, but I doubt it’ll come to that.’ His voice oozed the arrogant confidence that his opponents hungered to cut down to size but never quite succeeded in doing.
‘What about the rest of your caseload?’ she asked, although she knew the answer. While admittedly a few cases like the Kyrios one saw the inside of a courtroom—the Drakakis name was usually enough to get opponents to settle out of court—there were few that inevitably demanded his presence in London. It was why he was able to rule his law empire from anywhere in the world. Why he had a superyacht moored on the Greek Riviera and half a dozen luxury homes around the world at his disposal.
‘Are you worried that I’ve forgotten how to do my job on the strength of one loss, Alexis?’
The query was edge
d in steel. A reminder that this man was a seasoned predator through and through, to be underestimated at one’s peril.
‘No, of course not. I’m just wondering if it might be wise to postpone the trip to Drakonisos for a little while.’
His head tilt resembled a hawk eyeing a hapless rabbit. ‘Are you sure it’s not something else bothering you?’
Electric tension ratcheted up her spine. ‘What could possibly bother me?’ she parried, striving for flippancy that emerged half-baked.
‘Perhaps you’re concerned whether your last wifely performance will be up to par this time around?’ he suggested silkily, his gaze combing her face with narrow-eyed intensity.
She stiffened, the veiled insult striking deep. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I think Costas is becoming a little sceptical about our relationship.’
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘We may be required to stay longer this time around. I’m merely suggesting you give your performance a little more...polish in case my suspicions are right.’
That dart burrowed deeper. ‘I didn’t realise you were so disappointed with my performance last time. But perhaps I should be the one concerned here? Perhaps I’m working with limited resources.’
Her return parry was met with an arrogant twist of his lips, as if the great Christos Drakakis couldn’t possibly stage a sub-par performance. That merely taking on the role of pretend husband guaranteed its success under his artistry.
And damn him, he was right in his confidence.
On their last visit to Drakonisos, the brush of his lips across her knuckles that’d felt far too natural, for instance.
The mind-altering presence of his hand in the small of her back had made her aware of every craving cell in her body.
As had the lingering touch of fingers as he passed her a piece of fruit. The heavy-lidded faux passion in his eyes when he offered to apply her sunscreen.
All under the watchful gaze of Costas Drakakis.
All delivered with supreme mastery.
All fake.
Yet...as she thought about repeating it now, the flames in her belly leapt wildly. Because, even fake, every act had stroked too close to that secret bubble of need inside her she kept under lock and key.
Also that episode at his place had altered things. His kisses—far removed from a sun-drenched beach on Drakonisos and from his grandfather’s ever-watchful eyes—had awakened something inside her, a different kind of yearning she’d thought she’d quelled after that harrowing and humiliating period with Adrian, only to discover that she possessed a deeper vein of untapped need. One that had roused with shocking potency and persistence after a handful of minutes spent with the man who should’ve remained forbidden fruit to her.
With total recall, she summoned the sweet torture of his lips on her nipples, the sensation of his fingers between her thighs, skilfully strumming her to that shocking, unravelling climax that had changed the dynamic between them. Irreparably.
His low, derisive laugh yanked her back to the present. To the far too risqué subject under discussion.
‘You think my performance was lacking?’ he asked, his wry amusement implying he believed the opposite.
She forced a casual shrug. ‘You’re talking about something that happened more than six months ago. I don’t recall the minutiae of it all.’
Alexis was aware of the red rag she was waving in front of a temperamental Greek bull. Aware of that kick of awareness and excitement triggered by her words. Just as she was acutely aware of her surroundings. Of the fact that she simply couldn’t do that here. Because more than anything, she risked repeating the same mistakes she’d made with Adrian.
Sure, Christos hadn’t made promises to her as Adrian had. But she’d left herself wide open to temptation. Ignored the firm warning the Hope House nuns had embedded in her. Nothing is permanent. Don’t form attachments. She’d ignored the warning and dared to reach for the sacred promise of the one thing she desired most—to belong. To experience a semblance of the family she’d never had.
Adrian West, her erstwhile boss, had wielded that promise like a priceless treasure at the start, then slowly it had become a paring knife, stealthily slicing away her confidence, manipulating her trust until she was stripped to the bone, decimated and vulnerable, the life she’d painstakingly scraped together for herself shattered.
It was the reason she’d redoubled her efforts to keep herself free from emotional entanglements, especially in her professional life. The temp agency placement with Christos Drakakis three years ago had been the perfect environment to foster that vow, the formidable lawyer with steely eyes and forbidding aura exactly what she’d needed after Adrian’s easy snake-in-the-grass smiles and cruel intentions.
Her skin grew tight and sensitive under Christos’s intense gaze.
‘As much as I wish to refresh your memory, this is neither the time nor place. Suffice it to say that I recall a certain...woodenness to your performance last time. One you will do well to take time to address before we return to Greece.’
Irritation rose as she frowned. ‘It’s not like you to wait six whole months to tell me off for something I’ve done wrong. I’m almost inclined to believe you’re making all this up.’
One derisive eyebrow rose. ‘For what purpose?’ he questioned silkily.
‘I don’t know. Maybe you want someone to pay for what happened in court today? You haven’t lost a case since I’ve been your assistant. Perhaps this is what happens when things don’t go your way?’
Alexis watched in silent, stunned fascination as every trace of humour evaporated from his face. On some level she was relieved they were back in a more professional setting, although there was nothing comforting about the constant high-octane currents that fizzled and popped beneath her skin as his face clouded.
Existing in Christos Drakakis’s orbit was like living in the eye of a tornado, armed with the certain knowledge that one risky move from that centre would be catastrophic. She knew the devastating cost of straying off that path and had barely salvaged her dignity to tell her story after making such a mistake.
‘Once upon a time, perhaps I would’ve sought oblivion in the arms of a willing body. But I’ve discovered that merely postpones the inevitable victory, you see. As for your inference, I do not deflect or place blame where it’s not needed in order to feel better about myself. Only the people who stand in the way of me achieving my goals or possessing what’s mine will pay.’
There was a warning in there. It shivered across her skin like a ghostly feather.
‘But if you want me to be specific, you proved my suspicions correct in my penthouse two months ago, Alexis.’
She swallowed a gasp, her skin flushing all over again. ‘We agreed not to talk about that. Ever.’
‘I don’t recall making such a promise.’
‘Fine, I said I didn’t want to discuss what happened. You didn’t disagree.’
‘Because the situation seemed to uncharacteristically distress you.’
‘Then why are you bringing it up now? Things got a little...hot and heavy when they shouldn’t have, but we both agreed it was a mistake.’ If only she’d been able to stop thinking about it. To stop secretly yearning for a repeat performance.
His lips twisted, but a hard light remained in his eyes. ‘You’ve forced me to draw correlations. And I can’t help but notice the marked difference between the mediocre performance you’ve been dishing out this past year when you’ve been pretending to be my wife and what you’re truly like.’
Her whole body grew furnace hot. ‘So I’m not an actress. You knew that when we agreed to this.’
‘But now that I know you can do so much better, I must insist that you step up.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘That I want nothing less than what you showed me two months ago
.’
She shook her head, wishing with every fibre in her body she’d left the subject alone. Walked out. She had a million things to be getting on with. And yet, she stayed put as he sauntered back towards her.
‘Are you serious? I just said it was a mistake,’ she insisted in a voice that wasn’t as firm as she wished it.
His lips compressed. ‘Regardless, you exhibited a side to yourself that put your previous performances to shame. Take it from me that Costas will notice anything less than a stellar delivery.’
The need to distance herself from this unnerving subject had her balling her hands behind her back, her chin coming up in challenge despite the quivering in her belly. ‘You want your money’s worth? Don’t worry, sir. I’ll deliver. I always do, don’t I?’
The question lay between them, silence he seemed content to let develop growing heavy in the room.
The jarring ringing of his phone made her jump, while he barely blinked at the intrusion. Knowing she’d called him sir because she’d secretly wanted to rile him held her in place, wondering if she’d taken leave of her senses. Again.
‘You’ve not let me down...so far. Let’s not start now by keeping important clients waiting, shall we?’ The drawl drew her attention to her stasis.
Sucking in a much-needed breath, she went to his desk and snatched up the phone as Christos settled into his chair, his fingers steepled against his lips as he watched her.
Alexis grew intently aware of the stretch of fabric over her breasts as she leaned against the desk, the wool blend of her skirt as it tightened over her bottom, the rush of air-conditioned air over her calves.
‘Drakakis Law Group, how may I help you?’
She breathed through the client’s brisk demand to speak to Christos, her grip on the phone easing as she held it out to her boss.
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