She bent to pick up a shell as she thought about the possibility that her little brother could be in danger and the solution which Xenon was offering.
There is always a price, he had said in that very Greek way of his. And surely the price was too high. How could she bear to spend time pretending to be his wife when barely an hour in his company had left her wanting to climb the walls?
Yet could she deny her brother this chance because she didn’t have the guts to face the man she’d married? What was she so afraid of?
Him. She was afraid of Xenon and the way he made her feel. She was afraid of the things he made her want. Things she could never give him.
She put the shell in her pocket and headed for home. The breeze had whipped her hair into a wild frizz, but at least her cheeks had gained some colour by the time she got back to the cottage. She tried ringing Jason but as usual his phone was switched off and her imagination began to work overtime, and to scare her.
If she denied him this chance for selfish reasons, then wouldn’t she spend her life waiting for the knock on the door? The sombre voices of the police telling her that her baby brother had been found in a ditch somewhere?
She picked up the phone and dialled Xenon’s number, only to be told that he was in a meeting. But when she gave her name, the tone of the woman answering seemed to change and there was a click before Xenon himself came on the line.
‘Lex?’
Still taken aback by the fact that he’d actually interrupted a meeting to speak to her, Lexi forced herself to respond. ‘Yes, it’s me.’
‘You’ve made a decision?’
‘I have.’ She kept her voice low and her answers short—afraid she would betray some kind of emotion if she said too much. And the most stupid emotion of all was the hunger welling up inside her. The terrible aching deep in her heart, which made her long for the love they’d once shared.
Maybe it was because the telephone could sometimes play tricks with you. Speaking to someone without seeing the look in their eyes could make you feel as if nothing awful had ever happened. That you were still the same two people who would meet at the end of the day. Suddenly, it was frighteningly easy to imagine him pulling her into his arms and kissing her. Holding her tightly against his big, strong body as he’d done at the beginning. When for the first time in her life she’d felt safe.
She gave a wry smile. She should have known it was too good to be true. What was it that they said? That the honeymoon never lasted. And they were right. Because almost as soon as they had returned from their trip to Rhodes, her husband had given himself over to his real love. The work which defined him and drove him and which had made him one of the world’s most successful businessmen.
‘I’m waiting, Lex,’ came the sound of his impatient voice in her ear.
‘You know that I don’t want to do it,’ she said. ‘And I’m asking you to reconsider.’
‘Ochi. Can’t be done. You will do what I want you to do.’
‘You’re a ruthless man, Xenon Kanellis.’
‘Insult me all you like,’ he said. ‘But my heart will not be swayed by your pleas.’
‘You have no heart!’
‘Then waste no more of my time with your futile protestations. Give me your answer, Lex—is it yes or no?’
There was a pause while she tried to fight it, but she realised she had no choice. ‘Yes,’ she breathed reluctantly.
‘Good.’
She heard the unmistakeable triumph in his voice. She could imagine him sitting in the chair at his desk, swivelling it around so that he could gaze out at the London skyline. And she could have screamed.
‘We need to discuss practicalities,’ he was saying.
‘I agree.’ She drew in a deep breath because this bit was much better done on the phone, away from the calculating gleam of his eyes. ‘So let’s kick off by saying that this is not going to be a real marriage in any sense of the word. Let’s call it a masquerade, shall we? The mask I’ll wear in public won’t come off in private. Do you understand?’
‘I think it’s a consideration which can be discussed at a future date,’ he answered smoothly. ‘When can you be here? Tomorrow?’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Lexi gripped the telephone. ‘I can’t just pack up and go! There are things I need to take care of. It may surprise you to know that I have a life here.’
There was a pause. ‘Or a man? An eager lover you can’t bear to leave behind?’
Lexi almost laughed at how far he was from the truth. How she would have loved to tell him that, yes, there was a man. Someone who thrilled her whenever he touched her, as Xenon had always thrilled her. But there had been no one else. Sometimes she doubted that there ever would be. ‘I’m sure that your spies must have reported back to you that currently there’s no man.’
‘Currently?’ he echoed.
‘None of your damned business. One of the perks of being separated is that it means you’re free to start dating.’
She heard what sounded like Xenon trying to control his angry breathing and she gave a small smile of satisfaction.
‘Don’t push me too hard,’ he growled. ‘What do you need to take care of?’
‘Well, there’s my goldfish, for a start. There’s also my jewellery business. I may work for myself but I still have some commissions which I need to finish. When is...?’ The lump which had suddenly risen out of nowhere now lodged itself deep in her throat. ‘When is the christening?’
‘Next week. I’ll send my car for you on Friday and we’ll fly out on Saturday. Make sure you’re ready at noon,’ he said, and cut the connection.
Lexi was left clutching the phone, her hand shaking with rage. He was so authoritative. So used to getting what he wanted. He hadn’t even given her a chance to tell him that she would drive herself up to London. Or should she just let herself be whisked away in his fancy, chauffeur-driven car—no doubt in a demonstration of how easily he could flex his power?
She drew in a deep breath, knowing that she shouldn’t sweat the small stuff. She was doing this for Jason—and all she had to do was to get through it.
She spent the rest of the week finishing up her commissions and thinking about whether she should make something for Kyra’s baby. It would make sense and at least it would guarantee that her gift would be unique.
Her career as a jeweller was building slowly, but surely—though at the moment it was confined mainly to locals, with the occasional holidaymaker. Learning how to make silver jewellery had been one of the best decisions she’d ever made. She’d liked the combination of the practical and the artistic and it still thrilled her every time someone liked one of her designs enough to buy one.
Just last week an old man had ordered a chunky brooch for his wife, to celebrate fifty years of marriage. He obviously enjoyed chatting and started telling Lexi all about his long-ago wedding day. She had felt herself getting emotional as his rheumy old eyes welled up with tears and she thought it made her own marital record of two years seem like a mockery.
Picking up a lump of silver, she thought again about the new baby and, although she always steered clear of designing for infants on the grounds that it was too painful, she set to work. Because she had adored Xenon’s little sister and she had felt almost guilty that the breakdown of her marriage meant that communication with her had been severed. Somehow this handmade gift for Kyra’s firstborn seemed important, and significant. She worked long into the night and most of the next day too, until she had fashioned the small silver charm to her satisfaction.
On Friday, she had only just closed up her workshop and finished packing when Xenon’s car arrived. Lexi tried not to be intimidated by the female driver who jumped out of the luxury limousine to open the door for her, but it wasn’t easy. The wafer-thin woman who introduced herself as Charlotte cer
tainly made her fitted uniform look sexy. Lexi started wondering if there was anything going on between her and Xenon, until she remembered his strict rule about fraternising with the staff. He’d told her it was an important lesson his father had taught him: that you should never sleep with someone you might one day have to sack.
She pushed the thought away, troubled by how much it bothered her. Because it shouldn’t bother her. Xenon could sleep with who he liked. They were separated. They were getting a divorce.
She spent the journey watching as countryside morphed into city and her stomach contracted with apprehension as the car drew up outside the gleaming monolithic tower of the Kanellis headquarters.
She gazed up at the plate-glass-and-steel building, reluctantly remembering the last time she had been here. It had been at some company ‘do’ when the cracks were already beginning to appear in their marriage.
Xenon had been tired and fractious. He’d been working away—again—and had come to the party straight from the airport. He had eyed the close-fitting cocktail dress she’d been wearing with the expression of a hungry lion being offered a piece of raw meat and had then proceeded to accuse her of flirting with another man. As if. He didn’t seem to get that no other man existed for her. She remembered him being angry in the car afterwards and then she’d been angry right back, complaining that he always made her feel like some sort of object or possession. The simmering silence in which they’d sat had grown ever-more resentful, but that hadn’t stopped him from practically ripping off her dress the moment they’d arrived home. Or her doing the same with his trousers...
Her breath already dry in her throat, Lexi reached down for her suitcase, but Charlotte must have been watching from the driver’s mirror.
‘Don’t worry about that, Mrs Kanellis. I’ll take care of your case,’ she said.
Lexi wondered if it was worth going to the trouble of explaining that she no longer used her married name, but decided not to bother. ‘Thanks very much.’ She gave the young woman a warm smile. ‘You’re a great driver.’
But her nerves returned when she went into the building, her footsteps clicking as she made her way across the marbled foyer to the executive lift. Stroking her clammy palms down over her dress, she tried not to feel claustrophobic as she rode up towards Xenon’s penthouse office. The smoked mirrors threw back distorted images of her face and the dress she wore seemed to have leeched all the colour from her skin and she suddenly felt terribly provincial. It was a long time since she had been somewhere like this, somewhere where you could almost smell the scent of money.
Xenon’s was a success story which business schools used as a template aimed at people for whom no glass ceiling was too high. Born into a wealthy Greek family, he had assumed control of the Kanellis empire after the sudden death of his father—only to discover that the family finances were failing.
Although prodigiously young, Xenon had been undaunted by the task which lay ahead of him, and the fact that the markets had crashed soon afterwards. He had quickly discovered that he possessed the gifts of financial foresight coupled with nerves of steel. He had seen the need to diversify in order to cope with the changeable economic climate and he had done this while assuming the role as head of his extended Greek family, with all the responsibilities that involved.
Through sheer hard graft and dedication, he had revitalised the family shipping line and then added a chain of luxury shops. A newspaper and publishing house had increased the growing value of his portfolio, and during one economic downturn he had bought the rights of a screenplay written by an unknown student. It had captured the Zeitgeist of the time and My Crazy Greek Father had become the surprise global smash-hit of the year.
But the film had dug much deeper into the national psyche of Greece than the usual stereotypical jokes about sex before marriage and the benefits of moussaka. It had charted the rich and complex history of a beautiful and often misunderstood country. It had detailed wars and defeat. It had chronicled heartbreak and triumph—and had won a plethora of awards for it, included a much-coveted Oscar. The stardust of Hollywood had still been clinging to Xenon’s skin when Lexi had met him, some years later, when she had just embarked on an ill-judged solo career.
She knew that Xenon deserved his success. She knew he had worked hard for it and that he still did. But hadn’t his insatiable appetite for even more success helped drive a wedge between them? Hadn’t his ambition grown so big that it had dominated their lives and left her feeling pushed out and resentful?
She had been unable to be the wife he needed, or provide the heir which his fierce Greek pride had demanded. Xenon had wanted perfection and Lexi was a long way from perfection.
The lift pinged to a halt and she walked into the outer office to find a blonde—another blonde!—she didn’t recognise seated behind the large desk. Her predecessor had been there for years and Lexi had liked the middle-aged woman who had acted as gatekeeper to the Greek billionaire. It was a little disconcerting to see this new and rather glamorous incumbent rifling through a pile of papers with her shiny pink nails.
The blonde was looking at her and smiling. ‘Mrs Kanellis?’
Once again, the words sounded shockingly wrong. Like waking up and finding you were in someone else’s body. Lexi wondered how it would go down if she blurted out that she was not really Mrs Kanellis. That she and her estranged husband hadn’t shared a bed in almost two years and that Xenon had steadfastly refused to grant her the divorce she wanted. How would the blonde react to that?
But she said none of these things. Instead, she gave the polite smile which was expected of her even if behind it she was gritting her teeth. ‘That’s right.’
‘Mr Kanellis is expecting you. He said to ask whether you would like anything to drink after your journey.’
Tempted to ask for a mild sedative, Lexi nodded. ‘A cup of tea would be great.’
‘Tea it is. I’ll bring some right in.’
A discreet buzzer sounded on the desk and Lexi watched as the blonde smoothed her hand over her already immaculate hair. And that unconscious gesture told her more than a thousand words ever could, because she’d seen it so many times before. She’d seen it with shop assistants and bar staff, with airline stewardesses and female executives. It was a mixture of adoration and availability and it told her that Xenon could still get women adoring him, without even having to try.
‘You can go in now, Mrs Kanellis.’
‘Thanks.’ Tucking her bag under her arm, Lexi headed for the inner sanctum and walked into Xenon’s office, shutting the door behind her.
It was an impressive room. One hundred and eighty degrees of glass overlooked some of the most expensive real estate in the capital. In among the skyscrapers were dotted the roofs of famous monuments, looking so out of scale that they would have seemed more at home in a doll’s house.
But Lexi barely noticed the view. Xenon dominated that, just as he dominated everything else around him. He was seated at his desk, surveying her with the stillness of the natural predator. His black hair was tousled, as if he had been running impatient fingers through it. He’d loosened his tie—unless the smooth blonde had been responsible—revealing a glimpse of olive flesh which looked warm and inviting. It was only a little thing, but Lexi hadn’t been prepared for it. It was too intimate. It reminded her of too much. She knew that the hair began at the top of his chest and arrowed all the way down to his groin. She knew the way she used to scrape her fingernails through it and the way he used to moan in response. It was a mental picture she would have preferred not to have created and it made her cheeks grow hot.
‘Sit down,’ he said.
Her legs felt weak and she was glad to sink into the chair opposite his. Beneath the filmy folds of her dress, she pushed her knees together, looking at the various trophies around his office. There was the Oscar carelessly standing next to a
set of leather-bound books by the great Greek philosophers. On one of the walls hung the platinum disc awarded for the colossal sales of his film’s soundtrack and there were several citations from various business schools. A small sculpture by a former Turner Prize winner stood next to a sofa on which he sometimes catnapped, if he was working all night. All in all, it was a very impressive room which spoke volumes about its occupant.
‘So.’ She looked at him with challenge in her eyes. ‘Here I am.’
‘Here you are,’ he agreed slowly.
‘Why here?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, why bring me to your office? So you could work right up to the last possible minute, I suppose. Or to remind me of what a successful man you are?’
‘Surely you don’t need reminding of that?’ he mocked.
‘Funnily enough, your achievements aren’t the first things I think about, on waking.’
‘It’s neutral territory,’ he said. ‘Plus you know that I never like to waste time. Why wait for you at the house, when I could be doing something constructive here?’
She met the hard gleam of his blue eyes. ‘So work still rules, does it?’ she questioned. ‘You’re still that man who can never say no to earning an extra dollar even though you’ve got the kind of wealth which could probably bankroll the economy of a small country.’
For a moment Xenon didn’t answer. Instead, he just mused on the fact that nobody had ever spoken to him with quite the same degree of insolence as his wife. He watched as she pressed her beautiful knees together and thought she looked a damned sight more respectable today than when he had turned up announced. No. That was the wrong word. You could never use the word ‘respectable’ about a woman he could imagine in various states of undress, every time he looked at her.
Lexi wearing nothing but a thong as she’d walked towards their bed.
The Greek's Marriage Bargain Page 3