Alexis glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. He shook his head, settled deeper into his seat and, to his eternal surprise, didn’t die of boredom as the designer began displaying gown after gown for her inspection.
What he did do was observe Alexis, perhaps more keenly than he’d ever done before. And during that scrutiny, he was reminded that he didn’t know much about her, save for her curious need to save a certain orphanage, the rumours about her entanglement with her previous boss and the fact that his assistant was currently single.
His wife.
For the duration of their time on Drakonisos, he needed to stop thinking of Alexis as his executive assistant and more as his wife. After all, if he was putting distance between himself and that truth, so would others.
He returned his attention to the clothing audition, saw the gown Agatha held. ‘My wife will take that one. Add it to the pile,’ he said of a turquoise gown that he was certain would look exquisite against her flawless skin.
On screen, Agatha gaped in surprise. Beside him, Alexis’s breath caught.
He reclaimed her hand, meshing his fingers through hers. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked, voice pitched low as he nodded at the gown.
Eyes wide and a touch guarded, Alexis nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. I was about to add it to the collection.’
He raised their joint hands, brushed his lips over her knuckles. Felt a shiver unravel through her. ‘Good. Keep going,’ he instructed, settling back with her hand on his thigh.
‘I...um...can I see that peach one?’
Christos curbed a smile, the wicked thought that he’d come within striking distance of ruffling Alexis’s feathers pleasing him. When she attempted to extract her fingers surreptitiously a minute later, he tightened his grip.
Eight gowns later, Agatha was dispatched with instructions to courier them to Drakonisos and he was dialling the next designer. Marlene was equally effusive, just as predictably stunned when he addressed Alexis as his wife.
While he hadn’t purposefully hidden his marriage from the world, his notorious need for privacy had made tabloid journalists give up on unearthing gossip about him a long time ago. It seemed he’d done too good a job if no one in his native Greece knew he was no longer single.
Twelve gowns later, Alexis determinedly pulled her fingers from his. Reluctantly, he let go. ‘I think I have enough to be getting on with.’
‘Of course, Mrs Drakakis. And may I offer my congratulations again on your marriage?’ Marlene said.
Alexis gave a stiff nod. ‘Thank you.’
Christos was busy absorbing the primitive possessiveness mushrooming through his system at hearing her addressed as Mrs Drakakis when Alexis clicked off the screen and turned to him. ‘What are you doing?’
The arm he’d thrown over the back of the seat rested inches from her shoulder, his fingers brushing her silky hair. Unable to resist, he let the strands caress the back of his hand, mildly stunned by the sudden pulse of arousal on recalling how it had felt to bury his fingers in that glorious chestnut mass. ‘Marlene is a rabid gossip. News of our marriage will be all over Athens before the hour is out. Since Georgios has been busier than I thought, we have a lot of ground to make up.’
Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth, sparking further fireworks in his blood. ‘You know her well enough to trust her to be your carrier pigeon?’
He shrugged. ‘We’ve crossed paths a few times.’
Her nostrils fluttered and her lashes swept down. ‘Do I want to know?’
‘Not if I want to tarnish my image as the soul of discretion. But I’m pleased you’re jealous,’ he teased.
She scowled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not jealous. I meant do I want to know in case I have to...in case we cross paths?’
It felt like the most natural thing in the world to brush his fingers over her hot cheek. To watch her eyes turn liquid, hear her breath become a little jagged. A perfect reaction for anyone who might be watching. Regardless, the push and pull of it, the fact that Alexis wasn’t falling eagerly into his arms like every woman he’d known since reaching sexual maturity, was a unique experience he was growing addicted to. ‘You look a little...hot, glykia mou. Perhaps a swim before we get ready for dinner?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘What’s going on, Christos? You’re acting...different.’
He shrugged. ‘Perhaps it’s the island air.’
When her gaze remained sceptical, his gut tightened. After several moments, she nodded. ‘A swim would be nice.’
He chose the larger of the two pools at the villa because it was overlooked by his grandfather’s suite. Or so he told himself twenty minutes later when they stopped beside twin loungers and he took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
He tightened his grip when she attempted to pull away. ‘Stop. Costas is watching.’
She stilled, then swallowed. ‘That doesn’t mean you...that we have to—’
He stopped her words by passing a thumb over her lips. ‘On the contrary, yineka mou, it means exactly that.’
‘Christos—’
‘I like the breathy way you say my name. I’m almost convinced you want to kiss me just as much as I want to kiss you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
* * *
A smile slashed his face, but Alexis noticed the slight tension around the edges. For some reason, it made her shiver in anticipation. He clearly felt it course through her, his eyes darkening in direct response.
Then every single word of protest locked in her throat as he slowly tilted her face up, as his fierce gaze combed her face, lingering with blatant sensuality on her lips. Lips that tingled with every second he held them both in suspense. In the far recesses of her mind, she knew this was just for show. But, sweet heaven, her every reaction felt real, right down to the sharp sting in her nipples, the hot need burning between her thighs. That essential urge to raise her hands, place them on his warm, virile skin, experience the sleek movement of his hard-packed muscles.
It was a need a million times more potent, more urgent than she’d felt in the distant past when she’d once believed herself in love. And that made it almost...frightening. Because if she felt like this with Christos over the mere promise of a kiss, then what—
The thought shattered as his lips brushed over hers. Once. Twice.
Then he was claiming her in a vivid, ferocious kiss that jerked her hands to his waist for fear she’d fall if...when her knees gave out. Because his kiss was intoxicating, that stroke of his tongue, once he’d breached her lips, the stuff of pure addiction.
A moan escaped her, triggering a grunt from him. Then he was gathering her closer, his arm banding her waist, lifting her against him until her toes left the ground, left reality. Her breasts, heavy and needy, plastered against his chest, her belly cradling his hardening arousal.
‘Thee mou,’ he rasped under his breath.
The raw sentiment echoed inside Alexis, a distant voice urging her to take note of the ground shifting beneath her feet, of the need to withdraw, stabilise herself before it was too late.
But then his hand was moving over her body, gripping and releasing her hip, then cupping her buttock. Alexis gasped all over again, the sound greedily swallowed into his mouth when he rolled his hips against hers, imprinting his erection in a blatant caress that fired heatwaves through her.
‘As much as I like the feel of those nails of yours sinking into my skin, we’re at risk of this turning scandalously graphic if we don’t control ourselves,’ he murmured darkly in her ear.
And by that he meant her, of course. Because she’d completely lost track of her surroundings, had only been intent on satisfying the clawing hunger inside her. But it hadn’t been just that. There’d been a weighty need to...belong. To hold on to him and not let go, if only for a little while. To be a part of something good and worth
y. Something she didn’t have to give up, like the friends the nuns at Hope House had cautioned her against making.
This is an orphanage.
Nothing is permanent.
Don’t form attachments.
Short, simple warnings that had epitomised the paucity of entanglements she’d experienced as a child. She’d made the mistake of disregarding them a few times and been rewarded with heartbreak when those fragile friendships had broken before they’d had a chance to properly kindle. And of course, once the children had left, they’d never looked back. She’d particularly felt the truth of the nuns’ warnings the two times she’d come within a whisker of being adopted only to be returned to Hope House because it didn’t work out.
‘Did he make you feel like this?’
She blinked, focused back on the drop-dead gorgeous face of Christos. Of her husband. ‘I...what?’
‘West,’ he said through teeth that sounded gritted. ‘Did he make you tremble like this?’ he demanded, his voice containing a harsh edge.
The shock of hearing Adrian’s name made her push against him. She attempted to cover it up by laughing as she stepped back, distancing herself from her turbulent feelings and her body’s desire to cling to him. The world hadn’t quite righted itself after that kiss, so she sat down on the lounger, snatching up her glass just for something to occupy her hands with. ‘Now it’s my turn to ask if you’re jealous.’
He didn’t bat the question away with the same flippancy she’d attempted. Instead, he claimed his own seat, picked up his glass and stared into its contents. ‘Your time with me has repeatedly demonstrated that you’re an exemplary judge of character. Which makes me wonder what happened with him.’
She went icy cold. ‘And you think I was so blinded by lust that my common sense went out the window?’
His face grew tauter, his nostrils flaring with displeasure. ‘Were you?’
‘Christos—’
‘Did you believe yourself in love with him?’ he pressed, his voice a thin blade.
That niggling shame for losing her head over such a consummate smooth-talker threatened to resurface. But she reminded herself she hadn’t done anything wrong. So she raised her chin and met Christos’s gaze. ‘I thought we had a...connection. That I could trust him. I discovered I was wrong.’
‘He betrayed you,’ he stated with a conviction that stunned her.
‘Yes.’
‘How?’ he pushed, those eyes holding her in place.
‘I don’t see how that’s important.’
Christos’s eyes stayed fixed on her face for an age, causing her senses to tingle. Making her wonder if he could see her shame. Whether he was judging her for it. ‘It’s important because I don’t want his influence to be the yardstick you judge me by. Tell me, Alexis.’
Perhaps it was knowing she’d done exactly that that made her confess. ‘He was a junior associate when we met. He needed an assistant who knew what they were doing, who was prepared to go above and beyond. He wanted to be on the fast track to making partner.’
‘He spotted your talent and exploited it to his own ends.’
Her skin tightened in remembered humiliation. ‘Something like that. I set aside my studies to be a paralegal to help him reach his goals. I gave him everything he asked for, told myself it didn’t matter that he wanted to keep our relationship a secret from his friends and colleagues. Then in the week he made partner, I found out he had a long-term fiancée. I confronted him. And...’
‘And?’
‘He tried to gaslight me. Told me it’d all been in my head. He no-hard-feelingsed his way through it. Said it’d just been a bit of fun. Nothing special.’
She chanced a furtive glance at him, her breath catching at his livid expression.
‘You didn’t believe him, of course,’ he said.
She glanced away, the indelible reminder of her rejection at birth latching on despite his imperious declaration. ‘Not all of it, no.’
He caught her chin in his hand, redirected her gaze to his. ‘Believe none of it, Alexis. And trust me when I say users like that never amount to much. But I’m pleased that his loss was my gain.’
Far too perturbed by how his words made her feel, how very easily they went towards salving the hurt inside her, she tried to move away. His fingers encircled her wrist, holding her still.
‘I must insist though that his influence on you ends here. I won’t have our intimacies blemished with him.’
She huffed at his audacity. ‘You’re the one who brought him up. And how exactly are you going to achieve...whatever it is you’re implying?’
He gave a shrewd smile and released her. ‘You’ll find out in due course.’
Alexis forced herself to rise and walk calmly to the edge of the swimming pool. To not give in to the dizzying sensation coursing through her stomach that warned her to flee from the dark promise in Christos’s voice.
Because rather than be outraged, as she executed a perfect dive into the deliciously cool waters of the pool, all she could feel was...an electric thrill.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FAR FROM DISSIPATING with time, that sensation expanded as the afternoon drifted into evening. Fresh from blow-drying and curling her hair and on her way to the vast dressing room, Alexis stopped in her tracks at the French doors leading to the private terrace, dazzled by the play of brilliant orange and gold light over the turquoise waters.
She stepped outside, breathing in air redolent with salt, citrus and sunshine, half hoping it would calm some of the chaos raging inside her. She wasn’t surprised when it didn’t, but she still basked in the beauty of her surroundings for another minute before heading back inside.
Christos had disappeared after the incident by the pool, while she’d retreated to the smaller of the villa’s two libraries, then walked on the beach for an hour before returning indoors.
She’d been glad for the reprieve from Christos, feeling mildly terrified of what she’d revealed. So what if she felt a little naked and vulnerable after blurting out her pain? But when it came down to it, what could he do with the information? Her emotions hadn’t affected her work so far, and they wouldn’t in the future either.
Alexis repeated that mantra to herself as she chose a knee-length white dress with a wide black belt and black butterfly-wing sleeves, paired with elegant monochrome platform heels and, for a splash of colour, a jade necklace and earring set she’d treated herself to at Christmas. Two dabs of perfume behind her ears and a dash of lip gloss and she was ready.
Downstairs, a maid materialised in the hallway and directed her to Costas’s favourite terrace located in the east wing, directly beneath his suite. From memory, she guessed that Christos might be having his pre-dinner ouzo with his grandfather.
On the cosy little terrace, candles shone from an ornate candelabra, illuminating the exquisitely laid table and bathing its occupants in soft light. Alexis paused, unseen, at the door, the resemblance between the two men with their attention focused intently on each other catching at her.
Regardless of whatever tensions existed between them, they were family. Devoted to one another on a primal level she’d yearned for since she was old enough to know what family meant. She inhaled shakily, willing the longing away.
Even if she hadn’t sworn off relationships, attempting to form one with Christos would’ve been foolhardy, especially in light of his unvarnished confirmation that anything that happened between them would be purely physical. Their agreement was still finite, still a quid pro quo arrangement counting down to the moment he took possession of Drakonisos.
Nevertheless, that curious little fizzing in her belly ignited as her gaze landed on him. She battled the sensation by quickly looking at his grandfather.
Costas looked much better than he had this afternoon. The lopsided half-smile so reminiscent of his grandson came
easier, and there was a tranquillity about him, perhaps now he’d got what he wanted?
Knowing she risked being rude with her tardiness, she stepped onto the terrace. Christos’s gaze swung to her, then conducted a slow appraisal as he rose and pulled out her chair.
‘There you are. I was wondering whether I’d need to come and fetch you.’
‘I dissuaded him. I couldn’t risk him getting sidetracked and finding myself once again enjoying dinner for one,’ Costas tagged on dryly.
Catching his meaning, Alexis couldn’t stop the heat that rushed into her face. Nor could she stop Christos from brushing his lips over one hot cheek in greeting. ‘Be warned, glykia mou. He’s in an incorrigible mood.’
Pulse racing, she forced a smile as she took her chair, struggling not to breathe in Christos’s mind-scrambling masculine scent. ‘Good evening, Costas. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’
The old man shrugged. ‘I’ve been kept waiting a moment or two in my time. My late wife was fond of telling me that practising patience would earn me rewards. A tough lesson to start off with, but one I eventually learned to appreciate.’
‘Wine? Or ouzo?’ Christos offered as he retook his seat.
She wanted to say neither. The ground hadn’t quite resettled beneath her feet since this afternoon, and she was loath to further upset her equilibrium.
But, aware of two sets of stormy grey eyes staring at her, she sensed refusing might draw disapproval, maybe even offend her host. ‘I’ll try some ouzo, thanks.’
Costas smiled, his eyes warming further with approval as he sat back in his chair. ‘Kalos. I have an exclusive ouzo distiller two islands away. He sent this batch in today. Tell me what you think,’ he said, pouring a thankfully small measure of the cloudy white drink into a crystal glass.
As she accepted the offering, she spotted the Drakonisos label in sleek blue and silver lettering, because of course Christos’s grandfather would have his own brand. A small sip and the aromatic flavour of anise and cardamom burst onto her tongue.
Harlequin Presents--July 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 27