by Julia James
Even on a honeymoon that was actually a business trip.
‘It’s been pretty strenuous,’ she went on now, easing her feet out of the low-heeled court shoes that went with her cream silk ‘going away’ outfit—considerably more comfortable than those that had gone with her thirties-style, ivory satin bias-cut wedding dress, which had been four-inch heeled sandals. ‘But, yes, I think I can agree it’s all gone extremely well. And, of course—’ and now there was real warmth in her voice ‘—the work at Greymont is making wonderful progress. I can’t thank you enough for expediting matters in that respect!’
‘Well, that is my contribution,’ he agreed.
It had been a long day, and she’d been on the go from the moment she’d woken in the bridal suite at the hotel, ready to receive the ministrations of hair stylists and make-up artists, to this moment of relative relaxation now, and maybe that accounted for the tightening of her throat, the rush of emotion in her voice.
‘It means so much to me—restoring Greymont. It’s my whole world. ‘
Was there a flicker in his eyes? A sudden shadowing? But he said nothing, only smiled before getting out his phone with a murmured apology about checking emails.
She let him get on with it. He was a businessman. And global business ran twenty-four-seven. It didn’t stop for weddings.
Or honeymoons.
Yet when they arrived in the Gulf—Diana having managed to get some sleep during the flight—it was to discover that the incredibly lavish hotel they were staying at was most definitely putting the honeymoon into their arrival with a capital H.
As they were conducted to their suite by a personal butler, Diana could not suppress a gasp. The walls seemed to be made of gold, as did most of the furniture, a vast sweep of glass gave a view out over the vista beyond, and the floor looked to be priceless marble. Huge bouquets of red roses stood on just about every surface, scenting the air richly.
‘Oh, my goodness...’ she said weakly.
Did she really lean slightly against Nikos, half in weariness, half in amazement at the utterly over-the-top gilded lavishness of their surroundings? She didn’t know—knew only that for a moment his strength seemed to be supporting her. And then he was leading her forward, to where their butler was opening a bottle of vintage champagne.
‘Is it giving you ideas for improving the décor at Greymont?’
Nikos’s low voice was at her ear. She cast him a look, then realised that there was a hint of humour at his mouth and in his eyes. She felt a strange flutter deep inside her. Even though she was getting used to his smiles, he should not smile at her like that. Not so intimately. Not in a marriage like theirs—a marriage in which intimacy was not in the terms and conditions.
‘It’s perfect for here,’ she allowed.
She took the glass of champagne proffered to her and Nikos did likewise, dismissing the butler.
He raised his glass. ‘Well, Mrs Tramontes, shall we drink a toast to our marriage?’
That smile was still in his eyes, but now she was more composed as she met his gaze.
‘Definitely,’ she said brightly, lifting her glass to his.
It was odd to hear him call her that. She’d heard it a few times at the wedding reception, but it hadn’t seemed real then. Now, coming from Nikos, it did.
Well, yes, on the surface I suppose it is real, in the legal sense. But it’s not really real—it’s simply...
Convenient.
That was what it was. Convenient for both of them. Almost a kind of business partnership.
Mutually beneficial, perfectly amicable.
She clinked her glass against his lightly. Smiled back at him. Brightly, civilly, cheerfully. OK, she wasn’t yet totally used to being in his company, but the next few days would see to that.
She just had to get used to him, that was all.
‘To us...’
Nikos’s voice was deep, but if she’d thought for a second she’d heard something in it that smacked of some kind of intimacy, well, she was sure she was mistaken. He was, she reminded herself, a formidably attractive man, and he would have an impact on any woman without even intending to.
‘To us,’ she returned, and took a dutiful mouthful.
Nikos slid open the door to the huge balcony and they stepped out to take in the vista of the hotel’s gardens and azure swimming pools, and the glittering waters of the Gulf beyond.
She gave a sigh of pleasure and leant against the glass balcony rail. Nikos moved beside her, not too close, but almost in a companionable fashion, looking down with her, taking in the scene below.
His mood was good—exceptionally good.
The wedding had gone superbly, achieving just what he’d wanted to achieve—his entry by marriage into the world that his bride took for granted as her birthright. A flicker of dark emotion moved in his mind—the bitter memory of being ejected from that Normandy chateau, unwanted and unwelcome, rejected and refused, reminding him that he’d had no such auspicious start.
His mouth tightened. Well, he did not need what his own mother had denied him! He had achieved it without her acceptance! Just as he’d made himself as rich as the father who’d repudiated him, denied any claim to paternity.
He shook the dark thoughts from him. They had no place in his life—not any longer. They had no more power to haunt him.
His gaze dropped to the woman at his side and his good mood streamed back. For three months—long, self-controlled months—he’d held himself on a tight leash. For three endless months he’d held himself back, knowing that above all the woman he had chosen for marriage was not a woman to be rushed. He must thaw the ice maiden carefully.
This moment now, as he leaned companionably beside her, was the reward for his patience. And soon he’d be reaping the full extent of that reward.
But not quite yet. Not until she was fully at ease with him, fully comfortable with him. The first few days of their honeymoon should achieve that. It would take more immense self-control on his part, this final stage of the process, but, oh, it would be worth it when she finally accepted his embraces. When she accepted the passion that would, he knew with masculine instinct, flare between them when the time was right.
He hauled his mind back to the present. For now it was still necessary for him to exercise patience. Self-denial.
He turned his head towards her with an easy smile, his voice casually amiable. ‘What would you like to do for lunch?’ he asked. ‘We’ve flown east, so although you may feel as if it’s only early morning, here the sun is high.’
She glanced at him, returning his easy smile, glad that it felt natural to do so. Glad that standing here beside him, side by side, seemed quite effortless. She could see how much more relaxed he was—just as she was. It might not be a honeymoon in the traditional sense, and he might have business affairs to conduct, but there was a holiday atmosphere all the same. She was enjoying the easy feeling it brought. Enjoying just being here.
‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘Whatever you prefer. And Nikos...’ her voice changed slightly ‘...please don’t feel you have to keep me company while we’re here. I know you have business appointments and, really, in an ultra-luxurious hotel like this I’ll be more than happy to lounge around lazily. And if I feel like anything more energetic I can always take a formal tour and go exploring. You know—souks and whatever. Even the desert, maybe. I’ll be perfectly OK on my own, I promise.’
She said it quite deliberately, and was glad she had. She wanted to set the right tone, make it clear that she understood the unstated but implicit conditions of their marriage right from the off.
But he was looking at her strangely. Or so she thought. She gave an inner frown of puzzlement.
‘Yes, I do have some business appointments,’ he said, ‘but I believe I can still find time for my bride on our honeymoon.’ His voice was dry.
Her expression flickered, then recovered. ‘Well, lunch together now would certainly be nice,’ she said lightly
. ‘Do you think there’s anywhere suitable to eat poolside? I must say, that water looks tempting.’
‘Let’s find out,’ he returned. ‘We’ll take our swimsuits—be sure to apply enough sun cream. Your pale skin will burn instantly in these latitudes.’
They made their way down, bringing the champagne bottle with them, and emerged into the hotel’s vast atrium, in the centre of which an enormous crystal fountain cooled the already air-conditioned air and the fragrance of frankincense wafted all around.
She gazed openly at the opulence, and then Nikos was guiding her outdoors. The heat struck her again, and the sun’s glare, and automatically she fished out her dark glasses from her tote bag. Nikos did likewise.
As she glanced at him she felt her tummy do a quick flip.
They’d both changed into casual gear—she into a floaty sun dress and he in chinos and an open-necked short-sleeved shirt—but somehow, from the moment he put on his sunglasses, there really was only one word to describe him.
Sexy.
It was such a cheap word—so redolent of dire TV reality shows or girlish banter in the dorm. Not a word for a grown-up woman like her.
But it was the only word for him, and that was the problem. He just...radiated it. Whatever ‘it’ was. He had it in jaw-dropping amounts.
She tore her gaze away, grateful that her eyes were veiled with sunglasses too, berating herself silently for her illicit thoughts as they took their places at a shaded table in the open-air restaurant near the pools.
She gazed around in pleasure as Nikos recharged their champagne glasses. ‘This really is gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Completely over the top, but gorgeous.’
He gave a laugh, taking the menu proffered by a waiter. He sounded relaxed, at ease. ‘Well, be sure to mention that to the Prince when we meet him tomorrow.’
Diana stared. ‘Prince?’ she echoed.
‘Well, not the ruling Prince, but one of his nephews. He’s the main driver behind development here—and I have an interest in various of his ventures—but he has to proceed carefully. Several of his cousins oppose him, and several more want to push for a Dubai-style future. As it happens, we’ve been invited to his palace tomorrow for—of all things—afternoon tea.’
‘Afternoon tea?’ Diana echoed again.
‘Yes, Sheikh Kamal’s sister, Princess Fatima, is a big fan, apparently, and she welcomes any opportunity to partake of it.’
‘Good heavens!’ Diana exclaimed. ‘Well, I dare say to an Arabian princess afternoon tea is as exotic as a desert banquet would be for me.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You’ll have to guide me as to etiquette. I’m not at all au fait with royal protocol in the Middle East.’
‘We’ll get a briefing tomorrow morning from a palace official,’ said Nikos. ‘But I have every confidence in you, Diana.’ He paused, then disposed of his dark glasses. His expression was serious. ‘It’s thanks to you, you know, that we’ve been invited to the palace. Were I here on my own I would only be receiving a brief audience on a strictly business basis, in his office. Whereas with you to accompany me it has become a social engagement and, as you are probably aware, that takes things to a completely different level in places like this. It will open doors for me.’
She met his gaze. ‘I’m happy to be of use, Nikos. It makes me feel I’m...well, pulling my weight, I suppose.’ Her tone altered as she inserted a lighter note. ‘I’d better ensure I don’t do anything to shock the Sheikh or his sister. ‘
‘You’ll be perfect,’ he assured her. ‘It comes naturally to you—knowing the correct way to behave in any social situation.’
She gave a self-deprecating moue. ‘I can’t claim any personal credit, Nikos. I’ve had a very privileged existence. It’s people like you, you know, who didn’t have those advantages and yet are where they are today by their own efforts and determination, who deserve credit. All of us are who we are completely by accident of birth—and none of us is responsible for that.’
Was there a sudden veiling of his eyes? A sense of withdrawal behind a mask? If so, it made her conscious of just how little she knew about him. He had never spoken of his own background—only those few dismissive remarks about Greece. Other than that she’d gathered that he’d been brought up in France, spoke the language fluently, and he had made a passing reference to studying economics at one point.
As for his relationship with Nadya Serensky—she knew no more than what he had told her and that she did not have to feel any concern over his discarded trophy mistress. Nadya had married a Hollywood A-lister within weeks of Nikos finishing with her and was now queening it up in LA. Diana could not help but be relieved that she did not need to feel bad about helping herself to Nikos Tramontes.
For her own part, Diana had said very little about herself either. Nikos had asked no questions of her—and nor had she of him. After all, with their marriage being little more than a mutual business deal, there was no need for them to know anything much. All that was required was for them to be civil—friendly. Nothing more than that.
They enjoyed a leisurely lunch, and as it had during their engagement when they’d spent time together, Diana found the conversation flowing easily. Again, there was nothing personal in it—it was mostly about the Gulf, with Nikos briefing her as necessary to supplement what she already knew and then moving on to other parts of the world that her widely travelled husband was acquainted with.
It made for a perfectly pleasant meal, and after coffee they repaired to a poolside cabana. Diana changed in the private tented cubicle to the rear, emerging wearing a sleek turquoise one-piece and a cotton sarong in a deeper blue. The sarong revealed no more of her than her sundress had, and yet for all that she was aware of a sense of self-consciousness.
She sat herself down on a lounger, and was starting to anoint herself with sun cream when Nikos strolled up. He’d clearly changed elsewhere, and now dropped his bag on the lounger beside hers.
Diana tried hard not to stare—and failed dismally.
Oh, dear God...
She’d known in her head that he must have a good physique—his wide shoulders, broad chest, and absolutely no sign of any flab on him anywhere was an indication of that. But there was a difference between knowing it and seeing it in the flesh.
Taut, muscled flesh was moulded like an athlete’s, each pec and ab sculpted to perfection. She wished she’d jammed her concealing sunglasses back on her nose. Wished she could make her head drop. Wished she could just stop staring at him.
Her only saving mercy was that he didn’t appear to notice her fixed gaze. Instead, he dropped down on his lounger and reached across in a leisurely fashion to help himself to one of the large selection of magazines that lay on a side table. Diana could see that it took him no effort at all to use simply his ab muscles to take the reaching weight of his body.
Urgently she pulled her gaze away, made a play of putting down her sun block.
Nikos settled back to read. His mood was even better than it had been before. He could see she’d also taken one of the magazines—not a glossy fashion one, he wouldn’t have expected her to, but a popular history title. Satisfaction eased through him—and not just because he was very comfortably settled in a poolside cabana at an ultra-luxury hotel in the Gulf.
Because the woman he’d made his wife less than twenty-four hours ago was trying to pretend she was unaware of him right now.
He smiled inwardly. He’d been right to follow his instincts—to stick to his strategy of thawing the ice maiden Diana slowly before he moved in to melt her. He wanted her to relax in his company, lower her guard, become used to his constant presence.
So he gave no sign that he was perfectly aware of how aware she was of him, stripped to the waist, wearing only dark blue swim shorts, his long legs extended, feet bare. Instead he immersed himself in various articles in the financial magazine he’d helped himself to, while she read as well.
Their studied relaxation was only interrupted by intermittent enquirie
s from their personal butler as to whether they required anything.
He asked for mineral water, so did she, and then a glass of iced coffee, and both of them picked idly at a heaped plate of freshly cut fruit.
Eventually, with sun lowering and the heat of the day easing as the afternoon wore on, he tossed his reading aside.
‘OK,’ he announced, ‘time for some exercise.’ He threw a smile at her and limbered to his feet. ‘Fancy a dip?’ he asked.
‘I’d better, I think,’ Diana agreed. ‘Otherwise I’m going to snooze off...it’s so restful here. And that will screw up my sleep patterns—jet lag’s kicking in.’
He held out his hand and she took it, because to do otherwise would look pointed in a way she did not wish it to. He drew her up as though she weighed only a feather, and then loosed his grip as they walked towards the pool.
The sun, starting to lower behind the hotel to the west, shed a deep golden light over the water, which was shimmering in the heat. The main pool was relatively empty and Nikos strolled to the edge of the deep end, executing a perfect dive into the azure water, sending up a shower of diamond drops.
Diana couldn’t help but watch him—watch the way his powerful, muscled body drove through the water, demolishing the length in seconds, only to double under in a tumble turn and head back towards her.
He surfaced, dark hair sleek around his face. ‘Come on!’ he instructed. ‘It’s warm as milk.’
To her relief, he didn’t wait to watch her slip her sarong from her, and moments later she was in the water, dipping under the surface to get her head and hair wet. It was glorious—refreshing and cooling despite the ambient temperature of the pool.
She began a rhythmic traverse, contenting herself with breaststroke, enjoying the feeling of her long hair streaming behind her in the water, aware of Nikos steadily ploughing up and down only from the splashing of his arms in a strong, rapid freestyle. Having done the number of laps she was content with, she came to a halt at the far end and realised Nikos had also paused.