Rumors Behind the Greek's Wedding

by Pippa Roscoe

  ‘Yes,’ he pressed resolutely. ‘Why did you break our engagement?’

  ‘Because it would risk your guardianship over Annabelle.’

  ‘And why was that so important?’

  Célia stared at him. As if she could demand to know what he was doing. Why he was putting her through this.

  ‘Because I love you. And I’ve come to love Annabelle. And I don’t want to see you both hurt because of my actions.’

  As if the spell had been lifted, Loukis smiled, broad, wide, beautiful. His eyes sparkled and she’d never seen him look so wondrous.

  ‘Good. Because I love you too.’

  Célia’s heart leapt.

  ‘But I’ll get back to that in a minute. I promise.’ He turned to face the judge. ‘Your Honour, if the courts are here to decide about protection, about family, then this is me. Protecting my family and fighting for the woman I love. I have a written statement from François Paquet completely freeing Célia d’Argent from any knowledge of what her technical specifications were to be used for. And I am devastated that she was so mistreated by the questions posed by my mother’s lawyers, devastated that someone so good, so full of love and self-sacrifice was hurt by my actions and my needs. A woman who challenges me to be and do more each and every day, a woman who makes me a better person. And if this custody case is the price of Célia’s love for me and my love for her, it is not one I’m willing to pay. Nor am I willing to teach Annabelle that lesson either. Annabelle has told you in her own words that she would like to stay with me. Would like to maintain her life here, with her friends and family that love her. I urge you to take this into consideration in your decision. But for now, I’d very much like to kiss my fiancée if that’s okay, Your Honour?’

  A rueful smile played at the mouth of the wigged judge and Célia practically fled the chair, at the same time as Loukis crossed the room, and they met in the middle in a kiss that Célia would remember for the rest of her life.

  She gave no heed to the chaos that erupted around them, as his lips found hers and she felt the greatest well of love spring within her. Tears once again escaped her eyes, but this time they were full of joy.

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered against her lips.

  ‘I love you too,’ she whispered back.

  Finally the commotion around Meredith’s lawyers’ table became too intrusive, Byron’s anger boiling over and Meredith’s panicked voice hastily trying to call him back. The large oil baron’s arm cut through the air punctuating the word ‘done’, and he turned, taking a few short steps towards them.

  ‘I’m so very sorry about how painful that must have been for you,’ the American said. ‘It should never have happened. And while I do love her,’ he said helplessly, ‘I cannot condone Meredith’s actions. Other than to say that desperation made her...but it is inexcusable.’

  As he left the courtroom, Célia looked towards the older woman, recognising some of the devastation across her features. Because she, herself, had looked like that over the last few days and, no matter what had happened, Célia’s heart ached for the woman.

  Her lawyers demanded a short recess from the court, and Loukis took Célia’s hand in one of his just as Annabelle launched herself towards them. They were ushered from the room and back into the small office that was suddenly bursting with frantic laughter and happy tears from Loukis, Célia and Annabelle. But all the while, concern that Loukis still might lose custody beat in her chest.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she whispered to him as Annabelle wrapped her small body around Célia’s waist. ‘The risk, it’s too great...’

  ‘Not as great as the risk of teaching Annabelle that love has a price. That love is the price. I won’t do that.’

  They gazed at each other with love blazing in their eyes. It seemed to go on for ever, Célia refusing to break the heady, half-fearful, all-joyous and all-consuming feeling bursting within her.

  Until one of Loukis’s lawyers knocked on the door, and entered, the smile on his face as broad as she’d ever seen.

  ‘It’s over. Meredith has dropped the case. The courts are happy to award you full guardianship. Her only request was that she be able to see Annabelle a few times a year, with your permission.’

  Célia’s heart soared, to see the sheer happiness and relief across Loukis’s features.

  She felt Annabelle tug at both of them. ‘Can I, Loukis?’

  ‘Is that something you’d like?’ he asked his sister.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you shall.’

  ‘Can I...go and see Mummy?’

  ‘Of course you can,’ he insisted, his eyes returning to Célia’s.

  The lawyer stretched his hand out to Annabelle and the two made their way out into the hallway.

  * * *

  Loukis looked at the woman he loved, knowing that they still had more to say. That he did.

  ‘Can you forgive me?’

  She looked so adorably confused in that moment. ‘What for?’ she demanded.

  ‘For letting you go. For not realising sooner. For putting you through—’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Loukis. For so long, I was afraid of it all coming out. Of people thinking exactly what Meredith did. And I think I needed that. I needed to actually see it and feel it, to realise that it’s how I see myself that matters. That I know that wasn’t what I had intended. And that sometimes people do make mistakes. Unintentional ones. Like me. Like my father. How did you...?’

  ‘I called him, told him what happened. That I loved you and asked him if he could provide a statement for the court. He was more than happy to do so and within twenty minutes of the end of our conversation, he’d emailed it through.’

  ‘You did that for me?’ she asked as if still incredulous at the lengths he would go to for her.

  ‘I would do anything for you,’ he replied, the promise on his lips soul-deep and eternal.

  ‘Do you think the judge is still in the chamber?’

  ‘No idea.’ Loukis was confused as to the direction of her thoughts. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I can’t wait a minute longer to become Mrs Célia Liordis. I think it will be my most favourite name yet.’

  Loukis’s heart soared. This incredible woman wanted to be his wife, his future and his love. And Annabelle would be with them for every step of it. Family. The thing he’d avoided for so many years was now the only thing he wanted from the rest of his very happy ever after.

  EPILOGUE

  AUGUST HAD BECOME Célia’s favourite month. Since their wedding—sadly not the day of the court case owing to licences and other frustrating legalities, but a beautiful day full of family, friends, flowers and the most gorgeous dress Célia had ever seen—Ella and Roman’s family would come to the island for four whole magical weeks.

  It hadn’t been long after the wedding that Célia had discovered she was pregnant with their first child, Georgia, and then not long after their second, Antonis, much to Annabelle’s great delight. With Ella and Roman’s children, Tatiana, Adeline and Tikhon, Loukis would joke about opening a crèche.

  But that wasn’t what was occupying a large portion of Célia’s recent spare time. She had gone back to university, deciding to honour her childhood dreams of computer sciences. She had no plans yet to return to the industry, but as she now well knew...plans changed and people changed with them.

  Even Meredith, she ruefully acknowledged. It had taken a long time, but Loukis and his mother seemed to have found a balance and a sense of accord from their mutual love of Annabelle. The older woman had eventually apologised when she realised how much damage her actions in court had caused to others. It appeared she had truly been in love with Byron and in her desperation to be the perfect wife and mother he envisioned, she had gone too far. But Meredith had worked hard to prove her love for her fiancé as well as Annabelle and was even
making tentative steps towards repairing her relationship with Loukis too.

  It was the only thing that had prompted the hesitant suggestion from Loukis that perhaps the following August, they might invite Meredith for a short period. Célia had known how difficult that had been for him, but she also knew how important it was to forge those relationships—as she had done herself with her own parents. August had become the most precious time for them all. All business was put on hold and each company’s workforce was given a month-long holiday to spend with their own families, because each and every one of them knew the importance of it.

  As Célia checked and rechecked the fridge and pantry, ensuring that there was enough food for their first evening meal together that year, she paused—delighting in hearing the joyous sounds of Annabelle playing with Georgia and Antonis, their excitement at being reunited with Tatiana, Adeline and Tikhon. A last-minute addition of Yalena, Iannis and their family wouldn’t even put a dent in all the food and produce Loukis had ordered.

  ‘Do you think we’ve got enough?’ her husband asked from over her shoulder.

  ‘What, for the apocalypse? Yup. We should survive,’ she replied drily.

  ‘No one will go hungry in my house,’ he declared.

  ‘Little chance of that,’ she assured him, turning towards Loukis as he reached his arms around her waist and drew her towards him. They never tired of the little touches that had brought them so close together in the early stages of their relationship. And Célia had never stopped wondering at the fact that something so wonderful, so pure, so loving could have come from such fake beginnings.

  ‘Mmm...’ she mused. ‘Why is it that I’m thinking you’re hungry, but not for food?’ she teased.

  ‘Because you know me so, so well.’

  ‘I also know, so, so well, that our guests will be arriving in little under two hours and I’ve still yet to put the bedding in the spare rooms, tidy the sitting room, and clear away the playthings from the outside table.’

  ‘Ella and Roman won’t mind. They’re used to it.’

  ‘But Yalena and Iannis—’

  ‘Will absolutely, one hundred per cent understand. Anyone who has taken one look at my beautiful wife would understand,’ he assured her.

  And it made her think of all the ways he’d seen her since that day in the courtroom. Flush with the excitement of their reunion, the passion he could tease from her, terrified and exhausted as her first labour went from its thirty-sixth hour into an emergency C-section, awed and infinitely full of love as she held their first child, then their second just a few years later. Grief-stricken when she had lost her father, but resolute and comforted by the way that they had found a peace between them and forged a loving relationship in those final years. But the best of it was each and every morning when she opened her eyes to find him looking at her as if he’d never seen anything more beautiful or more beloved.

  The soft bent of her thoughts was yanked back to the present with an outrageous cry as he slapped her behind.

  ‘Bedroom. Now,’ he commanded with light, laughter and passion ringing his gaze.

  The absolute gall of the gorgeous man she was proud to call her husband, the father of her children and the love of her life.

  Her outrage died the moment she saw the impassioned look in his eyes and she raced him all the way to the bedroom and beyond.

  * * *

  Unable to put Rumors Behind the Greek’s Wedding down?

  Find your next page-turner with these other stories by Pippa Roscoe!

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  The Price of a Dangerous Passion

  by Jane Porter

  PROLOGUE

  New Year’s Eve

  SHE HAD RULES. Rules she never broke. There were no exceptions. Charlotte never mixed business and pleasure, never. She wasn’t ever tempted, either...regardless of the value of her clients. All her clients were VIPs to her, clients who came to her for her sterling reputation. They trusted her to make the best possible decisions for them. They came to her because they needed her expertise in sorting out image issues, public relation snafus and social media nightmares. How could they trust her judgment, if her judgment was faulty?

  If her judgment lost sight of the objective?

  If she forgot why she was there in the first place?

  Charlotte Parks knew all these things, and yet Brando Ricci was making it almost impossible to remember why these—her—rules were so important. She’d wrapped up business weeks ago, well before Christmas. All conversations and concerns with the Ricci-Baldi family had been handled, settled, put to bed. She was here at the Ricci family’s grand New Year’s Eve party because they loved to throw lavish parties and loved to include everyone who had helped them. And Charlotte had helped them, having spent the entire autumn in Florence, working to smooth tensions following intense, negative media attention arising from the family’s struggles with power, and issues from succession.

  Not all issues were completely settled, but much of the tension was gone, and the family had come together to present a unified face to the public once again. Tonight’s party was part of that unified face.

  She shouldn’t have come tonight. Her part was done. She’d been paid—well paid, too. There was no justifiable reason to have returned to Florence for a party.

  The music changed, slowed, and Brando pulled her closer, his hand settling low on her back, her breasts crushed to his tuxedo-covered chest. “You’re overthinking,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

  “I am,” she agreed. “Or perhaps I should say, I’m thinking. And I should be thinking. You are dangerous.”

  “I would never hurt you. That is a promise.”

  And she knew that. She knew he’d be amazing—in bed, out of bed. The chemistry between them was electric and had been there from the moment they’d met last September. But the chemistry is what also troubled her, because she’d never felt a pull like this... She’d never even considered throwing caution to the wind. And yet here she was, a half hour from midnight, wrestling with her conscience, wrestling with desire.

  “I shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, fingers curling around his, her heart thumping too hard, her body warm, sensitive, exquisitely aware...aroused. She hadn’t made love in over a year...perhaps two years... She hadn’t felt this attracted to anyone...ever. Part of her was so tempted to give in to the heat, while the logical, disciplined part warned that it was a mistake, a mistake that could jeopardize her career, her reputation...

  Her heart.

  She looked up into his handsome face again. He was gorgeous...truly handsome, but it wasn’t just beautiful bone structure. He was smart, fascinating, compelling. During the months of working with the Ricci family, Brando was the one who drew her, time and again. Even though he was the youngest in his family, he had the most wisdom and insight, and she’d come to trust and respect his point of view, even going to him when Enzo, Marcello and Livia couldn’t agree on anything, hoping Brando could find a diplomatic way to bring his fractious siblings together. And he had. And he did.

  She’d returned tonight to Florence for him.

  For this...

  Whatever this was.

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked now, his narrowed gaze sweeping
her face.

  His scrutiny made her face tingle, setting countless nerve endings alight. “Losing my head. Losing control.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. His hand slid lower on her back, nearly cupping the curve of her butt. “We’re two consenting adults.”

  She could feel his sinewy strength pressed against the length of her. His hard chest, his waist, the powerful thighs. “Yes, but business and pleasure should always be kept separate—”

  “We’re no longer working together,” he reminded, his head dropping, his lips brushing the side of her neck.

  She shuddered, and closed her eyes, trying to ignore how her breasts tightened, nipples pebbling, desire coiling within her. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a clear head. All she wanted was his mouth on hers, his hands teasing, exploring the length of her. It had been so long since she’d been with anyone and yet she wanted him...wanted his weight on her, wanted his body filling hers, wanted the pleasure she knew he’d give. The pleasure she craved...not from just anyone, but him. Brando Ricci. Vintner. Entrepreneur. Billionaire.

  Lover.

  No, not her lover, not yet.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” she whispered, air catching in her throat as his thumb stroked the side of her neck, lighting little tongues of fires just beneath the surface of her skin.

  “We’ve done nothing wrong,” he murmured. “We’re simply dancing.”

  Done nothing wrong yet, she silently corrected, with yet being the operative word.

  Charlotte tipped her head back to look up into Brando’s mesmerizing silver eyes that were anything but cool, or cold. The heat in them scorched her now and she felt a shiver race through her. She’d fought this attraction for months, fought the sizzling awareness, suppressed the hunger, but tonight she was losing the battle. Just being in his arms was making her breathless and dizzy. Her body hummed, aching with awareness. Hunger.