by Sarah Morgan
But didn’t Sebastien have the same reputation?
Wasn’t she about to marry a man exactly like her grandfather?
Looking at the hovering bodyguards, she gave a shiver and made a decision. ‘All right, let’s walk on the beach.’ She stooped to remove the shoes her grandfather had insisted she wear. ‘Three-inch heels and sand don’t go together.’
She saw the brief flash of astonishment in his beautiful dark eyes and realized her mistake immediately. Doubtless the women that he dated would be capable of climbing Everest in stilettos if the need arose.
‘I like to feel the sand between my toes,’ she improvised quickly, cursing her stupidity and making a mental note to take a crash course in suitable footwear as a matter of urgency.
‘Be careful not to cut your feet on the rocks,’ he said smoothly, reaching out a hand and taking hers in a strong grasp. Long fingers curled over hers and she felt an almost irresistible urge to drag her hand away. ‘Those shoes are stunning and do amazing things for your legs. But on reflection I agree that they’re probably better suited to a nightclub. I have several favourites so I can promise you that you’ll have ample opportunity to wear them in a more suitable setting.’
Nightclubs?
Alesia glanced at him blankly, realising with no small degree of consternation that he clearly believed her to be a real party-girl. What would he say if she confessed that she’d never actually been to a nightclub in her life? That her demanding working pattern ensured that she rarely if ever had an evening off to enjoy such indulgences?
Quickly she steered the conversation away from such dangerous subjects. ‘So, if you don’t trust my grandfather, why did you invite him to your island—?’
They had negotiated the rock successfully and yet strong fingers still held her securely. ‘This deal is important to me for many reasons.’ He glanced at her thoughtfully. ‘You are surely not pretending to know nothing about the feud that exists between our families?’
Her breathing quickened and she snatched her hand away. ‘Of course I’m aware of the feud—’
My father was killed on your father’s boat; my mother and I were both injured.
Emotion rose inside her until she could hardly breathe. Until it threatened to choke her. She felt him watching her and struggled for control.
Alesia turned away in distaste, still clutching her shoes in her hand. Only the most rigid self-discipline allowed her to continue the conversation with this man.
‘I think before we go any further you should know that, despite the fact that my grandfather would want me to, I don’t play games. I can’t pretend something I don’t feel,’ she said coldly. ‘I don’t flirt and I refuse to pretend that this marriage is anything other than a business arrangement between two parties. We each get something we want.’
‘And what exactly is that, Miss Philipos?’
‘Money,’ she said succinctly, lifting her chin and looking him in the eye. ‘I get money.’
‘Straight to the point. You are the only living relative of the richest man on the planet and yet still you want more,’ Sebastien drawled, his gaze suddenly speculative, ‘which probably makes you the biggest gold-digger in history. Tell me, Alesia—’ he said her name with mocking emphasis ‘—just how much money is enough?’
By now they were standing on a stretch of perfect golden sand. Alesia concentrated on the man next to her, keeping her back to the azure-blue sea which sparkled and shone in the intense heat of the Greek summer sun. To her it represented nothing but terror.
‘Given your own wealth, I could ask you the same question. You already have a company that nets you billions and still you want what belongs to my grandfather.’
‘That’s right, I do.’ His smile was sardonic. ‘But I’m not going to quite the lengths that you are to achieve that goal. For money you are prepared to tie yourself to your greatest enemy. A man that you clearly hate—’
A sudden attack of panic assailed her. She’d revealed too much. He mustn’t back out of the deal. ‘I didn’t say that—’
‘You didn’t need to,’ he said drily. ‘It is apparent from every flash of your eyes, from the way you hold yourself and from all the things that you don’t say, that you hate me with every bone in your body.’
Alesia could barely breathe as she cursed her stupidity.
Her grandfather had warned her that the man was clever and she’d ignored him. Had dismissed everything he’d said as yet another part of his plan. But in this case he was right. Sebastien Fiorukis was clever.
He was clever, dangerous and every bit a match for her grandfather.
‘I don’t hate you,’ she lied hastily and he lifted a winged brow.
‘I should warn you that I am a man who prefers honesty,’ he said softly, ‘even when it is distasteful. You’ve just admitted that you’re prepared to marry a man that you hate for money. Now, what sort of person does that make you, I wonder?’
She almost choked with outrage. He made her sound dreadful. If only he knew why she wanted the money, he might not be so swift to judge her.
She stared him in the eye. ‘Let’s just say that I’m more than satisfied with the financial arrangements that are to be a part of this contract.’
The accusation was so false, so far from reality, that for a wild, uncontrolled moment she almost blurted out the truth. But to confess the truth would be to blow the whole deal. And she needed this deal for her mother. What did it matter what he thought of her? What did it matter if he thought she was a money-grabbing gold-digger? If he discovered her grandfather’s shoddy treatment of both her and her mother then he would never believe that her grandfather wanted this deal for her benefit. He’d realize that her grandfather was so far from being the ‘family man’ that he was pretending to be that something more sinister was afoot.
He’d sense that her grandfather was after revenge.
‘Well, you’re prepared to marry the granddaughter of your greatest enemy just to get his company. And you already have your own company that makes you billions. So what sort of a person does that make you?’
‘Rich enough to afford you,’ he responded in cool tones, his eyes hard as they scanned her pale face. ‘Your opinion of me is as low as mine is of you, which should make us extremely well-matched. It will be a pleasant change not to have to charm a woman when I come home tired from a day in the office. I think marriage may suit me after all.’
‘You wouldn’t be able to charm me if you tried,’ she said stiffly, made furious by his overwhelming arrogance. ‘And, just for the record, I’m not remotely interested in experiencing your superior bedroom technique. That isn’t what this marriage is about.’
‘Is that so?’ He smiled and stepped closer to her and suddenly she was aware of nothing but heat and she wondered how on earth she was going to be able to stand living in Greece. The atmosphere was so still and oppressive that she could barely draw breath. Her skin tingled and buzzed and she felt strange.
‘This is a business arrangement,’ she reminded him coldly, and his dark eyes gleamed.
‘A business arrangement—’ He repeated her words thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on her face as he studied her every reaction. ‘Tell me—do you know how babies are made, Miss Philipos?’
The temperature of the air surrounding her seemed to increase dramatically.
Colour flared in her cheeks and her toes dug into the sand. ‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘A sensible one,’ he replied smoothly, ‘given that the production of a baby is generally preceded by sexual activity, with or without “superior bedroom technique”. Tell me, does your “business arrangement” include sexual activity, Miss Philipos?’
Totally shocked by the lethal intimacy of his tone and the sudden shift in the focus of the discussion, her eyes widened and she gave a soft gasp.
‘I—I don’t—’
‘No?’ His tone hardened and his gaze was unsympathetic. ‘And yet that is what this deal is all a
bout. Tell me, Miss Philipos, just how exactly do you envisage this “business arrangement” taking place? Do you intend to bring your briefcase to my bed?’
She inhaled sharply as all sorts of uncomfortably blatant images assailed her brain.
Somehow she’d managed to convince herself that this whole thing could be a relatively straightforward arrangement. He could live his life. She could live hers. The issue of a sexual relationship had crossed her mind briefly, of course, but somehow the notion of sex with a man she’d never met had seemed abstract. Unreal.
But face to face there was nothing unreal about Sebastien Fiorukis. He was six foot two of full-on, sexual, adult male.
Suddenly the sex aspect of their agreement didn’t seem quite so straightforward as she’d previously imagined it to be.
For a moment she forgot about the sea and her grandfather and focused on the appalling reality of sliding between the sheets with this hot-blooded volatile Greek.
‘Not a briefcase.’ Struggling to pull herself together, she answered his sardonic question as calmly as she could, ignoring the kick of her heart and the strange buzz in the pit of her stomach. ‘But clearly there will be no emotional involvement between us. I will have sex with you because that is what the contract demands, but nowhere does it say that I am required to enjoy the experience.’ She caught his incredulous gaze. ‘And that’s fine,’ she added hastily, suddenly extremely anxious to reassure him that her enjoyment was not on his list of objectives.
‘You’ll “have sex” with me?’ Sebastien stared at her in fascination, night-black eyes raking her face as he repeated her words.
Alesia closed her eyes. The problem was, he was used to women who expected to be seduced. She didn’t. In fact she couldn’t think of anything worse. She wasn’t remotely interested in sex and never had been. Once she’d discovered that she’d never be able to have children, she’d buried that part of herself away. And it no longer mattered to her. The few kisses she’d experienced since reaching adolescence had proved to her that she just wasn’t interested.
Realising that the situation was rapidly sliding out of control, she gave a frustrated sigh and tried one more time to make him see logic. ‘Look—this isn’t about you.’ She tried clumsily to rescue his ego from any damage inflicted by her remark. ‘This isn’t personal. We just won’t have that sort of marriage. And that’s fine. I mean really—’ she spread her hands in a nervous gesture, wondering how on earth this conversation had begun ‘—it’s how I want it.’
He stirred, his gaze still fixed on her face. ‘Clearly you have always had lousy sex.’
Hot colour flooded her cheeks and she looked away quickly, trying to regain some semblance of control.
Perhaps this was the point where she was supposed to tell him that she’d never had sex before but there was no way she was doing that! It was too embarrassing to have reached the grand old age of twenty-two and still be a virgin and she was totally confident that when the time came she could successfully hide her massive lack of experience in that department.
‘So you’re prepared to marry me and have “businesslike sex”—’ his tone was dangerously casual ‘—and I pay you for the privilege. Interesting concept and one that I confess I’m unfamiliar with. I’ve never before found myself in a position where I had to pay for sex.’
‘Of course you have.’ She responded without thinking. ‘Women hang round you hoping that you’ll spend your billions on them and in return they fawn over you and pretend to find you attractive—if that’s not paying for sex, I don’t know what is. And in this case you’re not paying for sex, you’re paying for my grandfather’s company.’
He looked totally stunned by this less than flattering interpretation of his love life and Alesia struggled not to roll her eyes in exasperation. His ego was positively monumental! He obviously thought that women wanted to be with him because he was completely irresistible. He was so sad!
‘You’re a rich man, Sebastien,’ she said impatiently, using his given name as he had used hers. ‘You can’t be telling me that I’m the first woman to be interested in your money.’
His dark eyes narrowed and he finally found his voice. ‘Let’s just say that you’re the first seriously rich woman to be interested in my money. Why would you need it so much, I wonder?’
If only he knew.
Alesia dangled the shoes under his nose, her gaze intentionally provocative. ‘Perhaps I just have enormous spending powers.’
She almost laughed as she listened to herself. The truth was that she wouldn’t have a clue how to spend money if she had it. Apart from her time at boarding school, she’d lived in virtual poverty for her entire life and economizing came as naturally to her as breathing. If she was pointed in the direction of a designer boutique, she’d probably just drop to her knees and start scrubbing the floor.
The dress she was wearing was the first new item of clothing she’d had for as long as she could remember and she only had that because her grandfather had taken one look at her ancient pair of faded jeans and almost burst a blood vessel. When she’d pointed out tartly that she didn’t have the money for a dress, he’d barked out a series of orders to one of his staff and three dresses had duly been chosen. But even then she hadn’t been given the option of selecting her favourite. Instead she’d been subjected to the humiliation of modelling all three in front of her grandfather, and had the added humiliation of being forced to wear the most revealing garment she’d ever laid eyes on.
‘You need to show the man what he’s getting,’ he’d grunted when she’d protested that there was no way she could wear a dress that was that low-cut. ‘Wear it or the deal is off.’
So she’d forced herself into the offending garment and tried not to show how utterly self-conscious she was to be wearing such a totally unsuitable dress. As far as she was concerned, the dress said one thing, ‘Pull me’, and she had the sense to realize that, given her appearance, mentioning her virginity to Sebastien Fiorukis at this point would do nothing but engender laughter.
‘I can see that my honesty offends you,’ she said smoothly, lifting her chin to hide her discomfort, ‘but perhaps I can remind you that you yourself are entering this marriage for sound business reasons. Why else would you agree to sacrifice your bachelor lifestyle for marriage?’
‘Who said anything about sacrificing my bachelor lifestyle?’ His firm mouth shifted slightly at the corners. ‘It’s only fair to warn you that I have an exceedingly high sex drive. Since our sex life is clearly going to be extremely tedious, then I’ll need to seek diversion elsewhere. But I’m prepared to pay that price in order to regain possession of Philipos Industries. The company that your grandfather stole from my family.’
She frowned. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Philipos Industries belongs to my grandfather and always has.’
‘Not true.’ His gaze was hard. ‘And if you expect me to believe that you don’t know the history of our little family feud, Miss Philipos, then you seriously underestimate me. You wanted honesty, then let’s have it.’
She swallowed hard. She didn’t underestimate him. Not for a moment. She was just thrown by his unexpected announcement. ‘Are you telling me that our grandparents were in business together?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you telling me that you weren’t aware of that fact?’
She shook her head. ‘My grandfather refuses to discuss business with a woman.’ At least that wasn’t a lie, she thought ruefully. Her grandfather despised women. Especially English women. It was the reason he’d disowned her mother and herself. He’d wanted nothing to do with either of them. ‘I’ve heard rumours, of course, but nothing concrete. Are you saying that he took the business from your grandfather?’
‘It is how the feud began.’ Sebastien looked at her, his dark gaze suddenly speculative. ‘He lied and cheated until my grandfather was forced to sign the company over to him,’ he bit out, his expression grim. ‘So you see, Alesia, I want to marr
y you because I intend to reclaim what is rightfully mine. And the feud ends here.’
Alesia stared at him, for once totally mute.
What would he say when he discovered the truth? That the feud hadn’t ended at all.
That her grandfather was about to strike a master blow.
And she was the tool of his revenge.
CHAPTER THREE
PALE-FACED and utterly miserable, Alesia sat shivering in her white silk wedding dress, feeling nothing like a bride.
Despite the gold band on her finger, part of her still couldn’t believe that she’d actually gone through with the wedding.
Oblivious to the elaborate celebrations taking place around her, she stared blankly at her plate and tried to focus her mind.
She’d actually married Sebastien Fiorukis.
It seemed hard to believe that only two weeks had passed since their meeting on his private island. Since then everything had been a blur of frantic activity. Lawyers had worked overtime, papers had been signed and wedding planners had burned the midnight oil to put together the wedding of the decade.
To Alesia the ceremony had been a nightmare.
Why hadn’t she anticipated the attention that such a high-profile wedding would attract? For the press, who were eternally fascinated by Sebastien Fiorukis, the fact that he’d finally chosen to marry the granddaughter of his greatest enemy had sent an explosion of excitement and speculation through the gossip-hungry media. Knowing that personal details of the handsome Greek billionaire sold newspapers, the press had been everywhere, flashes going off in her face and people yelling at her to smile and glance in their direction.
And of course the wedding attracted even more attention because of the presence of her notorious grandfather. Dimitrios Philipos so rarely appeared in public that his presence alone was enough to draw a crowd of fascinated on-lookers. Everyone wanted to witness a public meeting between Fiorukis and Philipos. Everyone was anticipating fireworks.