Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife

by Sun Chara

  Michalis guffawed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Did I just call you my second in command?”

  “Sure thing, boss.” Mario grinned, jumping into the driver’s seat and turning on the ignition.

  During the short drive to the satellite office of the Leonadis International Cruise Line, the men carried on a conversation, and Julia creased her forehead deep in thought.

  Mario seemed to be another typical Greek heartbreaker, but something about him teased her memory. Unable to place him, she dismissed the annoying niggle, reclined on the expensive upholstery and let the fresh island air whip her hair in her face.

  When Mario screeched to a stop in front of the modern office building, a rare find on the island, Michalis twisted in his seat, his arm stretching across the upholstery. “Can you amuse yourself for an hour?”

  “Sure can.” She scrambled out, thanking Mario for opening the door for her as her gaze fell on the waterfront market, abuzz with activity.

  Michalis followed her line of vision. “I’ll meet you at the Seaside Taverna.”

  “Okay, but first I’d like to make a phone call.”

  Except for her wallet stuffed in the pocket of her shorts, she’d left her gear, including her cell phone on the boat. So she had no other recourse but to walk beside Michalis through the double glass doors, across the foyer and into his private office on the second floor overlooking the harbor.

  When the two men stepped into the conference room, Julia grabbed the phone and keyed in the babysitter’s number. She heard Amy gurgling in the background, and it warmed her heart and brought a smile to her face.

  Before they’d left, true to his word, Michalis had escorted her next door to the babysitter’s and she’d made a beeline for her daughter in the backyard. But, Amy enamored with a stuffed panda in the bouncy chair beneath a gnarled olive tree hadn’t even noticed her.

  “Already got a mind of your own, munchkin.” Julia had bent down and kissed her cheek.

  “Like her mother.” Michalis had murmured in her ear, sending her thoughts into a tailspin and tingles dilating through her.

  Before she could slap him with an icy retort, he’d introduced her to the nanny. Dressed in denim shorts and a cropped t-shirt, she lounged on a garden chair, sunglasses and a sunhat keeping her face in shadow. Reluctantly, the girl turned from watching Amy and peered at Julia over the rim of her shades.

  After she and Julia had exchanged a few words, Michalis had spoken in rapid-fire Greek with the girl that Julia couldn’t follow what they said.

  The nanny smiled and placing her hand on his forearm, murmured something for his ears alone. For some uncanny reason, Julia wanted to rip the other woman’s arm off. Ridiculous of course, since she didn’t give a fig what Michalis did, right?

  “Kala.” He patted her hand. “Good.”

  He’d had the gall to stroke the other woman’s hand in front of her. Julia didn’t know whether to spit or rush out affronted. In the end she did neither, and gulping down the acid on her tongue maintained her composure.

  When he’d crouched down and caressed their daughter’s hair with his fingers, the tenderness in his eyes tugged at Julia’s heart; before she could make sense of her emotions, he’d leaped up, taken her elbow and guided her out.

  “Efharisto.” Julia spoke her thanks into the mouthpiece and set the phone back on its cradle on the desk. Knowing her daughter was safe, she breathed a sigh of relief, but it was tempered with a pang of regret.

  If only…she glanced at the door Michalis had walked through moments earlier, and splayed her palms on the desk. Strong, sleek, expensive, just like the man. Reminiscing on ‘if only…’ belonged in La La Land, and this was the real world; the world in which she had to trump the ruthless man wheeling and dealing behind the half-closed door. She squeezed her hands closed, tempted to pound on the hardwood, but instead she flexed her fingers. The man who’d wield his power, his money and his connections to take her daughter from her…and wouldn’t even blink.

  She stared out the wide expanse of window at the oceanfront buzzing with activity and rubbed her throbbing temples. Their hushed voices filtered through to her from behind the door, but unable to decipher their conversation, she crossed the floor to go down to the lobby, and stumbled.

  “Everything ok, Julia?” Michalis’ deep voice filtered through the half open door, but he remained behind it.

  “Yes, thanks.” Julia regained her step, her hand spanning the frosted glass partition separating them. “Amy’s just—” But Michalis had resumed his legal strategy discussion with Mario. This time, some of their words sailed within earshot. “The American Lol…claim… deed…no record except…” A pause. “…her daughter…” A chill ran through her. Was Amy’s trust fund that Michalis had promised a sham? She flew down the stairs to the lobby and out the door, the heat a shocking contrast to the air-conditioned office.

  But the sunlight soothed her frayed nerves, and she kept on walking.

  She knew full well what was going down between Michalis and his second in command, the legal whiz. She licked her dry lips and meandered through the crowds, all the while thinking—she had to find a way to stop the shipping magnate who owned the world from taking her little part of it.

  A pause in step, and a glimmer of hope flashed in her mind.

  But he didn’t own her, or her daughter.

  Not yet. The taunt batted back. You’re here aren’t you?

  “Maybe I should bundle up Amy and ride out of Dodge.” The words flittered from her mouth, then she chuckled at her whimsical notion.

  Sure enough, Michalis would ride after her until he lassoed what he wanted.

  Sunrays bouncing off the concrete hit her in the face, and adjusting her visor and sunglasses, she hurried to the seaside plaza abuzz with festivity. Date palms afforded shade to the vendors, but oblivious to the heat, tourists flashed cameras, lounged in outdoor cafés beneath colorful umbrellas, sipping ice-cold cocktails or Greek coffee and munching baklava; others laughing, bargained with the locals for souvenirs; silks, embroidered clothing, seashell knickknacks and a myriad of other crafts.

  “A cool lemonade would go down well right about now,” Julia thought out loud, missing this easygoing life she’d come to know. A quick glance about, and she grinned. She even missed the local pelican scavenging for tidbits at the wharf-side kafenions.

  “No.” It’d be foolhardy to think about the past. Focusing on getting through the next four weeks before she and Michalis parted company for good would be the smarter move. That optimistic thought put a bounce in her step, and she strolled along the quay bazaar for bargains.

  After about an hour, she collapsed in a chair beneath a canopy of grape vines, set her shopping bag on the empty chair next to her and ordered a drink. Fanning her face with her hand, she listened to the bouzouki musicians and watched the Greek folk-dancers inviting tourists to join the circle in the shade of a giant carob tree.

  “Opa!” someone shouted, followed by clapping to the beat.

  A smile quivered on her mouth, and she sighed. It seemed so long ago that she’d been carefree and laughing…her mind now set on rewind…

  After she’d wrapped an early photo shoot at the Acropolis for a line of Grecian-style couture, she’d stolen away for a couple of hours before she was due for wardrobe and makeup for a session at the Parthenon. She’d been like a kid in a candy store, immersed in local color, flavor and the hospitality of the grinning shopkeepers.

  She’d been bartering with a merchant over a bracelet, and knowing only a handful of Greek phrases, he seemed to be getting the upper hand; until tall, dark and sexy stepped in and with a few words, had the vendor agreeing to his smokin’ deal.

  Laughing, she made to pay for it, but Michalis had said, “Allow me.” When she demurred, he hiked a brow, paid for it and slipped it on her wrist. A walk along the pier, some flirtatious banter, and he had her sitting at the Seaside Taverna sipping an iced coffee to the sounds of bouzouki and the
surf.

  It had been magical…that first day, the second and the third. And—

  “Kyria Leonadis.” The café owner now grinned beneath his mustache and set her drink with a sprig of mint on the table. “We’re delighted you’re back.”

  “It’s good to be here.” She rifled in her wallet for a euro, and realized she meant what she’d said.

  The owner held up his hand. “On the house, Kyria Leonadis.”

  Julia smiled her thanks. The locals were almost like family in this small town…everybody knew everybody’s business…well almost.

  “I don’t know how your husband does it.”

  At her puzzled look, he wiggled his bushy brows. “First, he got the prettiest girl” –he winked and had her laughing — “then, he lured my best waiter to law school and to his company.”

  “Yes, he has a knack at getting what he wants.”

  “So far a perfect record, ne?” He turned to go, his dark eyes merry and already waving to another customer.

  Although his words were innocent, to Julia they held an ominous message. She couldn’t allow Michalis to continue with his ‘perfect record’ where she and Amy were concerned.

  To ease the unsettling feeling, Julia extracted several bills from her wallet, tossed the hefty tip on the table and settled back, tapping her foot to the tempo of the music and sipping her lemonade.

  She got so carried away with the festivities, that by the time she glanced at her watch, the sun flamed the horizon and turned the sea to mystery. A string of lights looped from tree to tree blinked, the dancers had changed costumes, the band strumming the evening’s serenade. Nightlife was a bomb with the Greeks—plenty of food, drink, company and merriment… kefi. Passion for life!

  She grimaced, and pushed away her almost empty glass. She’d succumbed to the perpetual romance of the Greeks, and it had been to her detriment. Shaking herself from her despondent mood, she scanned the milling crowd and drummed her fingers on the table.

  Where was Michalis? Unlike her, he was always punctual. A sliver of fear zinged through her, but she bashed it away. “Silly.”

  Shoving her chair back, she stood ready to walk back to the office and demand an explanation, when she caught sight of him weaving through the throng. She gripped the rough-hewn table edge, a hand fluttering to her throat and heat singeing her skin.

  He stood head and shoulders above the rest, and with his purposeful stride he was fast approaching her table. Propping his shades on his head, he scanned the area, frowned, and when he saw her, tension eased from his features. It took him only seconds to bridge the distance between them, and shifting an attaché case from one hand to the other, he gripped her elbow. “Let’s go.”

  She blinked, and stood her ground. “What? No, how was your day, dear, what’d you buy?” She held up the bag with a cute swimsuit in it for Amy.

  “You can tell me on the way,” he mused, guiding her through the revelers to the car.

  “Where’s Mario?”

  “Locking in a Tokyo deal that blew up last ye—” He crunched down on his words, his jaw rigid. “He’s working.”

  Ushering her into the passenger seat, he tossed his attaché on her lap and slid into the driver’s seat. “He’ll pick the car up later.” He turned the key in the ignition, the motor revved, and they zoomed off. “For the next two days, I’m officially off.” He swerved to bypass a horse and cart. “Except for the emergency transmitter onboard, no cell calls, no computers, no gadgets, no—”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Neither do I, but I’m game.” He grinned. “No interruptions of any kind.” His hot gaze slid over her, scalding her nerve endings. “I expect your undivided attention… amongst other things.”

  “How will the nanny reach me….us in an emergency?”

  “She’ll call Mario, and he’ll radio in.” And to emphasize his words, he pressed on the gas pedal and picked up speed. “Don’t worry. In a real emergency, the Leonadis chopper will come to the rescue.”

  “All plotted out,” she said, her words brittle.

  “Not exactly as I’d frame it, but if you insist—” He set his mouth, the warning in his tone suspended in the air between them.

  But she wouldn’t let up. “I don’t have to insist…I know.”

  “Really?”

  She batted his query, and imagined it skipping across the water. “Sure do.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “Well…uh…” She’d be alone with him out at sea, then on the island resort miles from anywhere, and the jitters pounced. Feeling vulnerable, her emotions were already spiking, and her body hummed for him. To counter that realization, she fired back, and her bullet-sharp words found their mark. “You’re a control freak, Michalis.”

  “What the heck is that supposed to mean?” He guffawed, but it was a dry sound.

  About to hammer him back, she swiped her hand across her moist forehead, her tone softening a tad. “Michalis, what are we doing?”

  “Going away for the weekend?”

  The man was aggravating. “Be serious.”

  “I am.”

  “We’ll end up hating each other more—”

  He skidded into the parking spot, twisted the ignition off and swiveled in his seat, his eyes probing hers, his chin jutting. “Will that be a problem for you?”

  “No,” she blasted the word. “But it might be for Amy.”

  “Amy’s not here, Julia.”

  “Precisely.” She gripped the attaché case so hard her fingers hurt. “You don’t want Amy—”

  “Not want my child?”

  “—for any other reason than to continue the Leonadis bloodline.”

  He paled, his features taut, but he didn’t deny it. A humorless sound exploded from his mouth, sheathing her body with goosebumps. “And you Julia, how are you using our child?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, here’s my take.” He stroked his chin and pursed his mouth. “You used me. And after you got the child… the family you wanted, you snuck out of town.”

  “No,” she blurted. “I left because—” She shook her head, and the rest of her explanation melted down her throat. He knew why she’d left.

  “A father’s not part of the equation?”

  She blanched. “Of course, but—” The words fractured on her tongue, a shard of pain piercing her, and she gripped the door-handle. She hadn’t known her father, doubted her mother knew for sure; she wanted better for her daughter.

  “To the Greeks there’s nothing so important as family…a child.”

  That nicked her pride…her fury. “You forfeited that right when you and that—that bimbo—”

  His features turned granite hard, his eyes glacial. “You were saying?”

  “Never mind.” She glanced around at the busy pier. “This is not the time to—”

  “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Will there ever be a right time, Michalis?”

  “At the end of the month.” He leveled her with a shuttered gaze, a nerve battering his jaw. “That should tell the tale.”

  A suspended moment of disbelief, then she burst out laughing, otherwise she’d be screaming like a shrew. “Proves my point.”

  “Which is?”

  “Controlling bast—”

  “Tuh, tuh,” he goaded. “A sailor’s blue streak from your fair lips?”

  She rolled her eyes heavenward, but before she fired back, he’d hopped out and this time beat her to opening the door.

  “Come on, I want to sail before dusk.”

  “Why?”

  He lifted a brow, and a lazy smile split his mouth.

  Seductive. Enticing. Magnetic.

  And she floundered like a fish on a hook…but she fought like her life depended on it.

  It did.

  “Because I want you bathed in the twilight, amidst the backdrop of the horizon, attending to my every need, want, desire.”

 
She drew in a sharp breath, carving her throat. How could she have allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security? Michalis Leonadis was back at full force, tracking his original agenda.

  Ruthless. Hard. Unyielding.

  That’s how he crushed his competition and anyone who crossed him.

  And she’d crossed him, big time.

  He’d make her pay for skipping out on him and costing him a fortune…she’d seen the headlines in Italia…Bride ditches Greek shipping magnate, sinking billion dollar Tokyo deal.

  Shivers shimmied up her spine. She had to level the playing field to even remotely stand a chance of coming out of this unscathed. And as much as she loathed it, she had to play her ace on Michalis—her mom’s tricks o’ the trade.

  “Tonight, and tomorrow night and the next and—”

  “I’ll give you more” –a dip of her lashes— “than you bargained for, Michalis mou.” She reached up, stroking his cheek with her fingertips, and tried not to jolt from the electric volt charging into her. The man was fueled with testosterone to explosive levels, and if she missed a beat, she could end up totally fried emotionally.

  “You don’t say?” He flashed her a white-toothed smile, his gaze narrowed.

  “Oh, but I do,” she purred, and swallowed her uncertainty.

  “Then, what are we waiting for?”

  Chapter 7

  “All aboard.” Michalis waved her ahead of him and dissected her every movement beneath his dark brows.

  “Here.” Julia turned, shoving the attaché case at him with such force, he tottered on his heels, and she swept past him.

  A chuckle scratched his throat but didn’t sound. He could smell a con job a mile off. Had even done so as a youth, but his uncle had paid him no mind. Instead, in a drunken stupor he’d set sail with his floozy…er…love of his life, and never returned, leaving Michalis to care for the boats and his little sister.

  Over the years, wheeling and dealing with the global sharks had sharpened his instincts to detect a snow job at its inception. His gaze followed Julia traipsing along the pier, the sway of her hips and the swing of her arms, a trigger to a fool’s fantasies.