by Sarah Morgan
Sebastien had handled the attention and simmering speculation with an air of almost bored disdain, ignoring reporters, greeting guests with just the right amount of attention and interest, as comfortable and confident as he’d been during that first awful meeting.
In contrast, Alesia had taken one horrified look at the jostling, over-excited paparazzi and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the ground in an attempt to blot out what was happening.
She didn’t want people to be interested in her.
She knew that journalists had a way of digging up secrets.
What if they dug up hers?
What if something happened to stop the wedding? To prevent her mother from having the operation she so badly needed?
Terrified that someone would say something to halt the ceremony, she’d stood at the front of the church like a frightened rabbit, hardly daring to breathe in case she drew attention to herself, in case someone recognized her for the impostor that she was.
She’d worn the long white wedding dress that her grandfather had presented her with, pulled the veil over her face and hoped that none of the guests would notice her wan face or the fact that she was seriously out of her depth. Playing the role of rich heiress was totally new to her.
When she realized that they were safely married the relief had been so great that she’d almost passed out.
Once or twice it had crossed her mind that this wasn’t the way weddings were supposed to be, that this was supposed to be a happy day. But then she reminded herself firmly that she’d never been one to dream and fantasize about weddings, so it wasn’t possible for her to be disappointed that hers hadn’t lived up to expectation. She didn’t have any expectation.
‘You could try and look a little more like an excited bride and less like someone being led to torture,’ Sebastien suggested silkily, snapping his fingers at the waiter and indicating that he should top up their glasses. ‘This is, after all, what you wanted. You’ve landed yourself a billionaire. Smile.’
Alesia grabbed the glass gratefully and drank deeply, her loathing for Sebastien Fiorukis increasing by the minute. He was cold, unfeeling and just horrid. At least she was thoroughly uncomfortable with the situation but he just didn’t seem to care that they didn’t even like each other.
All right, so she was marrying him for the money, she conceded, but that was completely different because she was desperate. Unlike him. He was already a billionaire. He already had one company. Only someone who was impossibly greedy could want two!
Alesia shivered as she contemplated the man she’d married.
He was just like her grandfather. Rich, successful, restless and never satisfied.
Maybe champagne would help. She didn’t normally drink but wasn’t alcohol supposed to numb the senses? She sincerely hoped so. The way she was feeling, she needed her senses rendered unconscious. Returning the empty glass to the table, she sucked several breaths into her lungs and tried hard to forget that everyone was watching her. Speculating. Why hadn’t someone warned her that Sebastien had such a large family? And so many friends—
‘I wasn’t expecting all this—’
‘It’s called a wedding,’ Sebastien said helpfully, smiling briefly at a stunning woman who cast a longing glance towards him as she slid past on the arm of a male guest, ‘and it’s what you signed up for when you agreed to marry me for my money. Enjoy it. It’s costing enough. Look on it as retail therapy.’
Money.
Grateful for the reminder, Alesia took another slug of champagne and forced herself to focus. All she had to do was remember the money. The reason she was doing this. It didn’t matter that everyone was staring at her. It didn’t matter that everyone was wondering why Sebastien Fiorukis had chosen to marry her. It didn’t matter that she felt lonelier than she had in her whole life. All that mattered was that at last—finally—her beloved mother would get the treatment she needed so badly.
She glanced sideways at the man sitting next to her. The man she’d married. He lounged beside her, totally relaxed and well within his comfort zone, as if marrying a total stranger was something he did every day of his life. Outwardly he was the type of man women the world round drooled over. Sophisticated, spoiled and so ridiculously wealthy that he could never have understood in a million years how it felt to be poor. How it felt to be so desperate for money that you’d do anything—even marry a man you’d been raised to hate.
His suit was dark and accentuated every inch of masculine perfection. His shoulders were wide, his frame powerful and athletic and he wore his looks with the ease and assurance of a man who’d been born with the entire silver cutlery set in his mouth.
He’d never known poverty and he’d never known hardship.
How could he ever understand what had driven her to this moment? A flash of panic suddenly assailed her. What if he backed out of their agreement? The man was every bit as ruthless and money-mad as her grandfather. She’d been naïve and stupid to trust him. She should have checked. She should have rung the bank—
She turned to him, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest as she contemplated the various scenarios, all of them awful.
‘Has the money been transferred to my account?’ The question flew from her lips unbidden and she immediately clamped her mouth shut and wished it unsaid as spectacular dark eyes fixed on hers with unconcealed disdain.
‘Even as we speak,’ he drawled softly, his firm mouth tightening into a grim line. ‘I’m surprised you’re not begging to miss the reception so that you can go and spend, spend, spend.’
Feeling relief wash over her she relaxed slightly, telling herself that his opinion of her really didn’t matter. All that mattered was her mother. And anyway, Sebastien Fiorukis was hardly in a position to criticize her for wanting money. She glanced down at the gold watch that nestled in the dark hairs of his wrist. The watch alone was probably worth more than she spent in a year.
‘And my grandfather’s company?’
‘Now belongs to me,’ he said dryly, reaching for his glass, ‘along with a substantial quantity of debts and enough labour-relation problems to ensure that my time is fully occupied for the foreseeable future. I’m afraid it’s going to delay our honeymoon, pethi mou.’
Honeymoon?
Her eyes flew to his, startled. She hadn’t thought any further than the wedding day. She certainly hadn’t contemplated the fact that he might be planning a honeymoon. Panic knotted deep in her stomach. ‘I—I didn’t think we’d be having a honeymoon—’
‘Honeymoons are for lovers,’ he slotted in with a grim smile, ‘which is what we are supposed to be. But at the moment I haven’t got time for a wife. So there’s no honeymoon.’
Alesia closed her eyes briefly and breathed a sigh of relief. A honeymoon would have been unbearable. As it was, hopefully he’d be too busy to spend any time with her. They could lead separate lives.
Alesia sucked in a breath and forced herself to relax. It would be fine, she assured herself. They barely needed to see each other. This was her life now. She really had to try and adapt.
Her eyes scanned the enormous garden that was the setting for the reception, taking in the glitz and the glamour. Guests had flown in from all over the globe to witness the wedding of Sebastien Fiorukis and everywhere she looked there were elegant women and rich, confident men.
Alesia bit her lip and dug her short, unmanicured nails into her palms.
Could they see through her? Did they realize that, despite being the ‘Philipos heiress’, she didn’t move in these circles and never had? What would they say if they knew that normally she dressed in jeans and waited on tables to earn extra money? What would they say if they knew she didn’t have a penny to her name?
Except that now, she reminded herself as she lifted her glass to her lips, she did have a penny to her name. Thanks to her new husband, she was now an extremely wealthy woman. On paper. In reality the money was already spent. She’d set up an agreement with the bank so th
at the money was automatically transferred into her mother’s medical fund.
‘What are you planning, I wonder,’ Sebastien purred, surveying her with a dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘You look alarmingly like a woman who is plotting.’
Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘I—I’m not plotting—’
‘No? Then you’ll be the first member of your sex who isn’t.’
Before she could think of a suitable reply, he lifted a hand to her head and removed the elaborate clip with a decisive movement.
She gave a gasp of surprise and protest as her blonde hair unwound itself, slid down and settled over her shoulders. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I paid for you,’ he said succinctly, his eyes fastened to her hair with undisguised masculine interest, ‘and you were very expensive, agape mou. I therefore have the right to use you in any way I see fit.’
Alesia almost choked with outrage. ‘You don’t own me—’
‘Oh, yes, I do.’ He leaned towards her. ‘I do own you, Alesia. Every single delectable part of you. I own your long silky hair and those amazing eyes that can almost convince me you’re innocent even though I know you’re a conniving, greedy little gold-digger. I own that fabulous body which you’ve doubtless used on countless occasions to persuade men to part with their money. I own the lot, Alesia. The deal we both signed was nothing short of a purchase on my part.’
She closed her eyes. ‘You make me feel like a—like a—’
‘Whore? Prostitute?’ he supplied helpfully. ‘I can see that the distinction might be difficult to make but you’re obviously perfectly satisfied with your career choice and who can blame you? There are far worse ways of earning a substantial sum of money.’
She gave a gasp of outrage and her eyes flew open. ‘Whatever you may think of me, I’m not promiscuous!’
‘At the price that you charge, that is hardly surprising,’ he drawled, a sardonic gleam in his dark eyes as they swept over her flushed cheeks. ‘Clearly you know how to keep yourself exclusive. Only the richest can afford you.’
Deeply offended, her eyes flashed her distaste. ‘I hate you,’ she said passionately and he smiled.
‘Maybe. But you need my money, pethi mou, which says a lot about your character, don’t you agree?’
Overwhelmed by a sudden impulse to tell him exactly why she needed the money, Alesia stared helplessly into his arrogant, handsome face and fought the impulse to slap it.
She couldn’t tell him.
She’d come this far—
And she didn’t need to defend herself to a man she didn’t like or respect.
She rose to her feet, determined to put distance between them, but lean brown fingers closed around her slender wrist.
‘If you’re about to make an exhibition of yourself then think again,’ he advised silkily, the expression in his eyes like a building thunderstorm. ‘You’re now my wife and I expect you to behave as such. This is not the time or the place for female tantrums. Everyone is looking at you. Sit down.’
Alesia tried to jerk her hand away but his grip tightened mercilessly and she sank back into her chair wondering how on earth she was going to get through the next hour with this man, let alone a lifetime.
Awash with hatred for him, she glanced up and saw a sultry-looking brunette staring at her with a stricken expression on her lovely face.
Alesia frowned. ‘Now I see what you meant about people staring. She looks pretty upset,’ she muttered, glancing sideways at Sebastien who was lounging in the chair next to her. ‘Am I to assume she wanted to be sitting where I am?’
Part of her found it hard to believe that anyone would choose to marry Sebastien Fiorukis but there was no missing the misery in the other woman’s gaze.
Sebastien fastened night-black eyes on the girl in question and gave the ghost of a smile. ‘Quite a few women wanted to be sitting where you are, pethi mou,’ he drawled, ‘so you should just count yourself lucky.’
Lucky?
‘Don’t you even care that she’s upset?’ Alesia made a sound of disgust. ‘You are totally unfeeling. Perhaps she was in love with you. She might be heartbroken.’
‘Heartbroken.’ He studied her, his gaze speculative. ‘Funny—I never would have thought you were a romantic. After all, you’re the woman who just married for yet more money. Are you telling me you believe in love?’
Alesia bit her lip. ‘She’s obviously upset—’
He gave a cynical smile. ‘So would you be if you saw your glamorous lifestyle threatened. Relax. Her affection is no more than wallet-deep. Her wounds will be healed by the next rich man foolish enough to glance in her direction.’
Alesia stared at him in appalled disbelief. ‘Who have you spent your life mixing with? Where did you get such a low opinion of women?’
‘From people like you, perhaps?’ His tone was lethally smooth and she flushed deeply, knowing that she was in no position to contradict him.
How could she? She did want his money, even though it wasn’t for her benefit.
‘Let’s not pretend that either of us believes in fairy tales or love.’ His eyes fastened on hers. ‘You certainly don’t or you wouldn’t be sitting here now.’
Love.
Glancing at the girl one more time, Alesia saw raw jealousy in her eyes and almost laughed at the irony of the situation.
Whatever the emotion driving her, the girl clearly wanted to be sitting where she was sitting. She was probably the envy of at least half the women in the world.
And she’d never felt more miserable in her life.
Alesia returned her gaze to her plate and almost jumped as she felt Sebastien cover her hand with his own.
Startled by his unexpected touch, she lifted her gaze to his and was instantly mesmerized by the look in his seductive dark eyes. It was a look that teased and tantalized, a promise of things to come, and for a moment she just stared, held captive by the sheer sexuality of his presence.
He had something that she’d never encountered before—
A magnetism. A—
He leaned towards her and she stopped breathing, waiting for him to speak. Waiting to hear what he suddenly wanted to say to her—
‘My mother is about to come and speak to you,’ Sebastien murmured softly in her ear, lean, bronzed fingers toying idly with a strand of her hair, ‘and you are to say nothing which upsets her in any way, do I make myself clear? As far as she is concerned, we are crazy about each other. One wrong move on your part and the money stops.’
Crazy about each other?
Her heart thudding uncomfortably, Alesia froze. She was totally thrown by the contrast between the seduction in his eyes and the lethal tone of his voice.
There was no missing the warning in his tone.
‘Surely she knows this is a business arrangement—’ Her own voice was little more than a croak and she struggled to breathe. ‘We only met two weeks ago.’
‘My mother is a romantic,’ he murmured, smiling down at her with what must have seemed to a casual observer a flattering degree of attentiveness. ‘She believes that we were destined to meet and fall in love. The feud has come full circle. Your parents died and now we are together.’
Finding that she just couldn’t think straight when he was leaning so close to her, Alesia swallowed hard and then turned to greet the woman who had approached while they’d been talking. They’d been introduced briefly before the ceremony but that was all and Alesia had barely paid attention. As far as she was concerned his mother was just another Fiorukis. Another member of the family who had been directly responsible for her father’s death. She ought to hate her. She was the enemy.
Alesia stared up at Diandra Fiorukis, saw the warmth in her eyes and the pride in her expression and suddenly found she couldn’t hate her. Nor could she see her as the enemy. She was just someone’s mother.
A mother attending her beloved son’s wedding. Proud. Nervous.
Drawn. Strained.
‘You look beautif
ul, Alesia,’ the older woman said wistfully. ‘Your own mother would have been so proud of you if she could see you now.’
The reminder that her own mother didn’t even know she was getting married tore at Alesia’s heart. Her mother would have been horrified had she known that she was getting married. And to whom.
Unable to speak for a moment, knowing she couldn’t reveal that her mother was alive, she struggled with the emotion that threatened to erupt inside her.
‘This is a happy day for our two families. I’m pleased that your grandfather agreed to come today.’ His mother settled herself in the chair next to her. ‘Everyone wants family around them when they marry.’
Family?
Alesia remembered that his mother had no idea that she and her grandfather had only met two weeks earlier. That they had no relationship at all and never would.
That her grandfather had brutally cut both her mother and herself out of his life.
It was on the tip of her tongue to protest that she didn’t consider her grandfather to be family, but fortunately she realized in time that such a statement would reveal far too much about the true situation and she couldn’t risk that. There was still too much at stake. If they discovered that her mother was alive and that her grandfather had disowned both of them then they would guess that this wedding was about revenge, not unity.
Feeling guilty for deceiving the other woman, she changed the subject.
‘I never realized Sebastien was part of such a large family,’ she said stiffly, watching as yet another giggling teenager fought for his attention. Everywhere she turned there seemed to be sisters, cousins and aunts hugging him, small children waiting to crawl on to his lap.
His mother smiled serenely. ‘They are your family too now.’ She reached out and took Alesia’s hand in hers. ‘You’ve no idea how much I’ve longed for this moment. I thought Sebastien would never be willing to sacrifice his bachelor life for a girl. I’d given up hoping that he’d ever find anyone good enough for him.’
Seeing that the woman was genuinely moved, Alesia squirmed uncomfortably. She couldn’t pretend—she just couldn’t.