The Greek Tycoon's Tarnished Bride (Men of the Zodiac)
Page 9
“Tipsy?”
“You know, a little bit drunk.”
His black eyebrows rose. “Now why would I feel the need to do that? I think you’re a strong enough woman not to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Nice remark,” she said and downed the rest of her cocktail, glad that the sexual innuendo comment confusion had passed. She found Tito incredibly attractive, but she was already at a disadvantage power-wise here, and the thought that he might suspect she fancied him was excruciating. Unless, of course the feeling was reciprocated, which was bonkers. “So for the record you need to know that I really, really don’t want to be Mrs. Makris for the foreseeable future.”
He steepled his long fingers, touching the tips onto his top lip. “I think I already know that,” he said in a soft voice. “But we’re not doing it because we want to; we’re doing it because we have little choice right now. It’s practical.”
“Yes, of course, practical.” So, Tito didn’t want to get married and would never have any children. That was unusual, wasn’t it? “Do you mind me asking you something? Just to satisfy my curiosity?”
He smiled and her tummy felt wobbly. “Go ahead.”
The waiter and another member of staff came swinging through the door with their main courses and the wine, which made her jump. “When these two have gone,” she mumbled and gratefully took the glass of red wine offered once the plates had been set down. There were some things that had to be said in private. She stared at the flickering candle until they were completely alone and then blurted it out. “Tito, are you gay?”
The atmosphere in the room froze and Erica held her breath as he fixed her with an unreadable green and gold gaze. “Not to my knowledge.”
The tone of his voice was so rich and sexy she felt her thighs quiver like a rabbit about to run for its life. Her voice was in sharp contrast and it sounded small, high-pitched, and pathetic to her own ears. “I just wondered, that’s all. The fact you said you’ll never have children and that marriage isn’t your thing and…you seem to pay a lot of attention to your appearance. Sorry.”
He smiled. “I think I detect a backhanded compliment there, but you don’t need to apologize for asking a simple question, Erica. I’m not some kind of lunatic despot. And this isn’t eighteenth-century England, however much it looks like it in here.” He looked around the room at the heavy gold-framed oil paintings, porcelain urns, and finally up at the enormous crystal chandelier that twinkled directly over the table. “Speaking of which, if that thing came loose we’d both be dead.”
Erica looked up too. “What a horrible thought.”
“But it won’t, of course,” he added quickly and nodded towards her meal. “Chips and curry will get cold.”
“Oh yes, looks lovely.” She ripped off the corner of a steaming naan bread and dipped it into the creamy spiced sauce before devouring it. “And it is lovely, mmm.”
“So, to get back to the practicalities. Are there any other matters you want to discuss apart from my sexuality?”
God, that felt awkward. “I did apologize for that.”
“I won’t forget, you know,” he said with a wry grin and then sliced into his perfectly charred steak. “But it would really help me if you would simply agree that this marriage will go ahead. It’s fundamental to the whole plan. Without it, everything will unravel, and I don’t want that to happen.”
The food in her mouth turned to sawdust. There was no avoiding the matter for much longer and what else was she supposed to do? Could she really turn around now and refuse to go through with it all? Was she prepared to pack up her son and somehow get back to her cold, damp apartment in the East End that was possibly being staked out by ruthless assassins when the promise of a better life was just a breath away? There was really only one question that she needed answered in all this. “If I agree to marry you, will you promise to treat Nick as your own son? To love him and care for him? It’s a lot to ask but I realize now that he needs a father figure in his life and another person who will lay down his life for him if needs be. I will agree to marry you and do all I can to make the situation tolerable if you can promise to do that.”
Tito leaned across the table, and laid his large, warm hand over hers again. She might be imagining it but there was a sudden vibrancy in his eyes. The crystal lamplights that filled the room reflected in his irises like green shooting stars, and the hard lines of his face appeared to soften. His voice dropped to a deep murmur, like a calm sea on a warm night. “I promise you on my life.”
Chapter Seven
Erica woke to the sound of Nick grizzling in the cot next to her bed and could hardly believe it was morning already. She hadn’t slept well in spite of the good food and drink the night before—hardly surprising in the circumstances because her world had been turned upside down. She had also agreed to marry a complete stranger and their wedding was booked in Gibraltar for the following day. Tito Makris certainly didn’t mess around when he wanted to get something done, and she suspected he was pushing things so fast because he was worried she might change her mind.
She lay on her back and stared at the ornate plasterwork on the ceiling. There was a lot to do. First breakfast for Nick and she should try to have some too. Being tired and cranky from low blood sugar levels wasn’t going to be helpful for anyone. Then she needed to email her university course tutor and tell her she wouldn’t be attending for some time because…because what? She couldn’t really tell her the truth; they’d send around the men in white coats and get her sectioned for going crazy or something! And what would her likely options be? She’d already deferred part of her course when Nick was born because studying full-time and having a new baby on her own had proved simply too difficult. But at that point she had no other option. She had to forge a career to look after them both because there was no other hope of survival short of relying on state handouts for the rest of her life.
The reasons she had for struggling on with her degree weren’t valid anymore. The course she had started as a carefree teenager and enjoyed had become a millstone around her neck and a means to a far off end that wasn’t even certain. There were plenty of graduates without jobs these days, after all. She suddenly realized that leaving the course would be a huge relief; she wouldn’t have the frequent guilt of leaving Nick with the babysitter, she wouldn’t be tired all the time, she could be a full-time mother and not have to worry about food or heating or anything like that. Dear God, she had been fighting Tito from the moment they had met when all the time he had been offering her the chance to make the dreams she’d had since Nick had been born come true.
She sat up and smiled as she turned to her baby, who was dribbling over the rail of his cot and pummeling his sturdy legs into the mattress. “How about we have some lovely food and then have some fun?” she said and lifted him onto her lap on her bed. He pulled himself up and put his chubby arms around her neck so he could carry on bouncing.
“If you’re a good boy we could try and have a swim. There’s a great big heated pool downstairs apparently. We’ll ask Fermina or Mary to come with us so we don’t get in a pickle on our own.” Happiness rose inside her as their world gradually became bigger and brighter.
The bedside phone started to ring, which made Erica jump and Nick crank up the volume instantaneously. They never had a landline in the apartment due to the cost, and Erica realized just how intrusive it could be. At least you could turn a cell phone off. She felt like sounding curt to whoever was shattering their peace. “Yes,” she snapped and pressed her lips together into a cat’s bum shape.
“It’s only me.” Tito’s voice was deep, as if he’d been up all night drinking spirits and smoking cigars.
“You sound rough,” she said, her voice flat, but not quite as sharp as before. “Was it the wine?”
There was a low chuckle on the end of the line, and she felt a bit silly. She had meant to be a touch insulting but it appeared to be water off a duck’s back. “Not the wine.
I did some work after you went to bed and the pillows here are terrible.”
Erica didn’t believe that for one minute. Their every wish was an instant command in this place and if he’d wanted different pillows, it was a certainty that they would be found even if it did mean a trip into Harrods, central London, to fetch them. “Poor petal,” she said. “Get the housekeeper to bring you up some pain relief. Or some more wine.”
“Funny.” His voice became firmer. “Listen, there’s an earlier flight slot come free and we’re taking it. We leave in an hour so don’t worry about packing just get some breakfast and get dressed with anything you need for the journey, which is under four hours. Everything else will be done for you.”
She hated being herded up like this and being told what to do. It made her feel belligerent. “But I’ve not decided on my dress.”
“Jeans are fine for traveling so don’t worry.”
Stupid man. “I meant my wedding dress. Presumably it’s on the dirty great rail of clothes that your minions dragged into my suite yesterday?”
There was a brief but awkward silence punctuated only by Nick’s increasingly loud wails. “Do you really need to decide on that before we reach Gibraltar? It’s not that important.”
Erica was getting really stressed and annoyed now, sandwiched between two demanding and unreasonable males. “Well, it might be to me. Have you considered that? If jeans aren’t good enough for a curry and chips dinner, then—”
“Point taken. The clothes selected for you yesterday, there were some options or at least I asked that there should be. Did you go through them all?”
She was beyond irritated now that he had cut her off in mid-sentence on top of all the other things that were irritating her. “Actually, no, I didn’t! Have you any idea what kind of day it was for me and Nick yesterday?”
“I know it must have been hard.”
Erica held the phone out so that Nick’s screams could blast Tito’s ears as well as hers and then put the mouthpiece back nearer her lips. Her voice sounded defeated when she spoke. “I had planned to take him for a swim this morning as a treat for both of us.”
There was a moment’s silence, and she hoped he felt just a little bit guilty in his rush to get everything organized.
“I will postpone the flight.”
And by uttering those words he had now very skillfully transferred any guilt he had felt onto her. Oh no, she wasn’t having that. “No, it’s okay. It was just—”
“Once we are married and in Crete you can both swim all day, every day. I promise.”
God, was he actually trying to be nice? “Swear to God and hope to die?”
“If that’s what you want.” She heard a small cough. “But I’m not so sure I believe in God anyway.”
Nick started to scream really loudly. “Okay, we’ll be ready in an hour, but Nick has never flown before so there could be more than the usual turbulence to worry about.”
“Believe it or not I can actually hear him,” he said and she could swear he was smiling by the subtle change in his voice. “I’ll inform the pilot and crew.”
“It’ll be a bit late for that when we’re actually boarding, but nice thought.”
“It’s a private jet so they do what I want when I want it. Don’t worry.”
Of course how dim of her; a private jet, naturally. She rolled her eyes. “Perfect.”
“Your nannies, they are on the flight list also. You seem to get on well. Do they come too?”
The question caught her by surprise. “Can they do that? Just drop everything and come with us?”
“Of course, that’s what they are paid for. No families, no ties, and completely flexible.”
“And very well paid, I imagine?”
She heard him laugh softly, and her tummy felt soft and wobbly again. “What do you think?” he murmured in a honey-coated tone.
“Nice work if you can get it.”
“They’ve put in years of work and have more experience in childcare than either of us. They never complain and are one hundred percent discreet.”
Two of them must be costing a small fortune, she realized. “Nick has taken to both of them, which makes me feel a bit redundant, to be honest.”
“Nick will benefit from a mother who gets more than four hours sleep a night and eats at least three decent meals. Think of all the swimming you can both do and when he’s older, perhaps some horse riding. Lots of exciting things.”
She smiled and sighed. Tito Makris knew her weakness was her little boy; she didn’t stand a chance. “Okay, the nannies come too. See you in an hour.”
“I don’t want to do that again any time soon!” Erica ran the back of her hand over her forehead as she pushed Nick in a fold up buggy through Gibraltar airport and glared at Tito.
“It was a rough flight all round,” Tito said and hitched Nick’s bag over one broad shoulder. “It will get easier for him.”
“I’m shattered, the nannies are shattered. God! How can one tiny scrap of male humanity be such hard work?”
“Practice and breeding,” he said with a grin that he directed to near distance. “It was probably his ears due to the cabin pressure.”
“Yes, I do know. He sucked on just about everything that wasn’t strapped down. Including the prenup you got me to sign.”
“There were only a few stains. It’s still legally binding.”
“Great, well that’s okay, then.” She blinked in the bright sunshine which radiated back from the pale concrete at their feet. The sky was a clear blue and it was a world away from the gray drizzle they had left behind in England. “But he really, really didn’t enjoy your private jet.”
“Ground crew will clear up the mess.” His tone was matter of fact as they reached the fresh air outside, and he looked around them, presumably for their transfer.
“Poor sods,” she muttered. “It’s going to take some time and a lot of air freshener.”
“Again, they are paid well enough. Not to worry.”
She squinted in the bright sunshine. “Better than a pole dancer?”
“Every possibility.”
Erica sighed. “I’ve been a schmuck, haven’t I? There were so many ways I could have made enough money to survive on.”
“Not with a baby, not without support. You did okay.”
“You think? If I hadn’t been a pole dancer, the Frangos people might have accepted me without being legally bound to Mr. Wonderful Makris of Crete.”
He frowned, but was still scouring the taxi ranks for something. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You did what you had to, and it’s over now but we have to deal with a situation where neither of us has complete control. I don’t like it either, but there you go.”
Of course, it hadn’t occurred to her that he didn’t want to marry her any more than she wanted to marry him. And it was kind of rude of him to say so even though he was probably just as irritable as she was at that moment. “Nothing is over yet. I’ve not signed the wedding register. I—I could turn right round and head back to England.”
He spun round and his expression was as hard as granite. “I’m tired of this, Erica. Decide what you want, or at least what you’re going to do in the next few minutes because I’m exhausted with all this. I’m no ogre, and I’m offering you the moon on a stick so what the hell is your problem?”
It was as if she had been blasted by a momentary hurricane. He had almost lost his cool there for a second and it had taken her aback. “I’ve lost my independence and it makes me feel like crap.”
“Have you? In what way?”
“My course, I had to give it up. No way could I continue in the circumstances, it would be impossible.”
“And? Does that mean you can’t enroll somewhere else, somewhere even better? At my expense, naturally.”
“I could?”
He put one hand through his hair and then let it fall to his side. “Yes, if that’s what you want.”
“Oh.”
Erica felt her eyes prickle and looked down as shame rose within her. Nick had now had the audacity to fall asleep after his ructions on the plane. “Your way,” she mumbled and then looked back up to see the muscles of his jaw were less tight.
“Thank God for that.”
“But only up to the moment we’re married. From there on in we’re equal. I won’t be your good little Greek wife. I want a say in everything that happens. This may not be a genuine marriage we’re contemplating, but it’s due to last for some time and I can’t be a doormat. It would end in murder, I promise you.”
His chin jerked up playfully, his mood apparently more improved. “I can believe that. You have a deal.”
“And I want today’s equivalent of a million pounds when we divorce. I won’t have my own pension or a career, and I can’t imagine anyone wanting to marry me when I’m in my forties.”
“No?”
“It’s not likely, is it? But hey, I never planned on being kept by a rich husband anyway. Why would I? It’s a gross way to live.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, but be careful about expressing it when you’re in Crete. There will be plenty of people who disagree with you. Arranged marriages are commonplace even among older people, and they don’t consider marrying to secure assets and join families as gross. It’s practical and civilized in certain parts of society, and if you get into an argument, I tell you, those women can shout. Sometimes they throw things too.”
“Sounds bloody horrendous. Do I get my own supply of Ouzo on tap to cope?”
“If you feel it necessary. And as for the one million pounds, I had ten million written into the prenup, but if you’d like me to change it…”