A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks

by Caro LaFever

  Another horrible silence. His wide mouth went grim.

  “I don’t care that the emir wants his own personal architect around at all times.”

  She tightened her hands on the sheets. There was a terrible need bubbling inside her to jump out of the bed and run over to comfort him. Because something in the tone of his voice told her this wasn’t only about the emir. He fought something beyond that.

  She should go to him.

  Naked. In the light.

  She sunk deeper into the bedcovers.

  “Forget it,” he stated, a flat, fatal statement. “I won’t sign.”

  He clicked off the phone and his hand dropped to his side.

  “Alex?” she ventured his name after the silence carried on for a good ten seconds.

  “We’re going home.”

  Chapter 18

  This was not home.

  “Where are we?” Sophie peered through the private jet’s oval window. She’d fallen asleep as soon as they got on board, partly to avoid any messy conversations, but mostly because she’d only had a half night of sleep. Apparently, that had been a mistake. Apparently, Alex had decided to take off to…here…without an explanation.

  “In a plane.”

  She threw a scowl over her shoulder. “This isn’t New York.”

  “No, it’s not.” He didn’t even glance at her from across the aisle. All his attention seemed to be pinned on the ridge of mountains they’d recently flown over.

  She swung her head back to stare out once more. True, there were several big airplanes and some smaller ones standing on the tarmac. Every one of them circled around the three-story, blue-glass terminal in the late-afternoon sun. But she couldn’t compare it to the bustling hustle of La Guardia. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a sign proclaiming the name of the airport. Inspecting the various airplanes as they drove by, the pieces started to come together.

  Then she caught the unmistakable sign all in Greek letters.

  “We’re in Greece.” Shock shot through her. Alex had taken off for Greece without even asking her? Outrage ran right behind the shock. Yanking her belt off, she leapt to her feet. “You said we were going home.”

  “This is home.” He kept his gaze on the outside. “For me.”

  “I don’t—”

  “You should sit down and buckle up,” he said, calm and cool. “At least until we come to a stop.”

  “I have a business back in New York City.” The concern for him and his business, the worry and angst, flew right out of her mind. “I have responsibilities I need to take care of.”

  “I called your father.”

  “What?”

  “While you were sleeping. He said he’d be fine for another week at your bakery. In fact, he sounded pleased at our delay.”

  Finally, he looked at her. The blue of his eyes was dark and muddy instead of their usual brilliant cerulean. His jawline was tense, belying the calmness of his voice. The brute hands, those hands that had brought her perfect pleasure, lay on his thighs, slowly tightening into fists.

  The man hurt.

  The heat of her anger simmered to a low boil and she couldn’t help it when her heart gave a lurch.

  She hadn’t been able to wrench a speck of information from him as they’d dressed, packed, and said good-bye to the ever cheerful Marcel. His cell had buzzed madly until he’d eventually turned it off and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. He’d given the impression he’d have liked to pitch the phone into the Seine instead. As they’d driven in a plain old taxi to the Orly Airport, Sophie had finally ceased to try. Whatever was frustrating Alex, whatever had happened between him and Henry and the emir, wasn’t something he was willing to share with her.

  The woman he’d made perfect love to last night.

  The woman he’d claimed was his friend.

  A woman he hadn’t waited to have sex with because it didn’t matter that it wasn’t the right thing to do.

  She sucked in a breath. She hurt, too. “You had no right.”

  “Sophie.” He sighed and glanced away. “I need you here, okay?”

  The plea drove right into her heart and parked in a hard jerk. Worry about her business fell away. “O-okay.”

  “Thanks.” He gave her another look, this one from beneath his sinfully long lashes so she couldn’t truly see what he was thinking or what he was feeling.

  Bending her will to another’s wasn’t her usual habit. Yet the pain in his eyes and his voice, and the love she held so tightly in her heart for this man, made her reassess her normal style.

  She’d bend. For now.

  Plunking herself back down on her seat, she stared through the window again. Her mind rolled around everything bringing no conclusions: the sex last night, his fight with Henry, what lay in her immediate future.

  What lay in her future with Alex.

  The airplane came to a stop.

  “Come on.” He stood in a jerky, sharp move. “We have a drive ahead of us and I don’t want to do it in the dark.”

  She clicked on her cell phone. Three-thirty p.m. “Does that mean we’re driving far?”

  “Far enough.”

  Before she could complain about his secrecy, he strode to the cockpit and opened the door. The pilot greeted him with a rumbled hello and her opportunity to make a point passed.

  Within a half hour, they were on their way…somewhere…in a fancy Renault SUV. She wanted to reach over and slap him, but the waves of stress and tension rolling off the man made her decide to keep still and keep quiet for now. Whizzing along the sleek highway, they crossed the rugged mountains and dipped into small villages nestled in deep valleys. She settled herself into the leather seat, figuring she might as well let herself enjoy the foreign scenery and the moment.

  The car started climbing and her jaw dropped when she caught her first glimpse of the top line of the mountains ahead of them. “Snow? In Greece?”

  A short puff of laughter came from him and all the tension filling the car slipped away. “We even have a few ski resorts sprinkled in this area, believe it or not.”

  “Really?” She braved a look over and met his eyes. To her delight and relief, they twinkled in a familiar way that made her heart lift.

  “Yes, really. At the risk of being yelled at for playing tour guide…”

  She chuckled. “Go right ahead.”

  His big hand raised to point out the window. “Those are the Pindus Mountains and that tall one we’re driving toward is Mount Smolikas.”

  “Did you come here, too, when you were young?”

  Tension washed back in as his mouth grew grim and the line of his shoulders went taut. “No.”

  “Oh.” She wanted the twinkling, happy Alex to return, but didn’t have a clue where to take the next step in this minefield named Alex Stravoudas.

  They drove by a blue-and-white sign proclaiming Edessa and she wished she’d paid more attention to her ancient history class in college. Wasn’t Edessa some important city at one point? She thought about asking the trusty tour guide by her side, yet another glance at him told her he wasn’t in the mood any longer.

  Not in the mood to talk.

  Not in the mood to explain.

  And certainly not in the mood to confide.

  Sighing, she slumped back and waited for whatever would come next.

  After another silent period filled with brooding vibrations that made her anxiety rise, he swung off the highway and onto a small street leading toward the top of the mountains. Snow now covered the road and the roofs of the rugged stone homes they passed. Small village after small village, quaint and quiet, went by and the silence in the car deepened.

  The sun fell behind the tips of the mountains. A deep, black darkness quickly dropped across the landscape and now all she could see was an occasional flash of light as they drove past a house. Sophie thought her heart might be sliding into darkness too. Why had he dragged her here? Especially when it was clear, he didn’t want any company. Did he think she
would provide some great sex on the side and then just leave him alone?

  Her heart slid down. Her temper heated.

  She was about to begin yelling and questioning, when he turned the car onto a snow-covered driveway slithering its way right to the top of a mountain. A two-story stone structure stood on a cliff, spilling golden light out on the surrounding grounds.

  The car stopped.

  “This is it.” His voice gave nothing away.

  “How interesting.” The edge of sarcastic heat lined her words and she didn’t care. He was being a complete jerk. Her patience with his secrecy and mood were at an end.

  He glanced her way, a frown crossing his face. “You don’t like it?”

  “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “It’s my home.” Turning the car off, he cracked the car door open. “Actually, it’s my hideout.”

  After dropping that bomb in her lap, he got out, slammed the door, and went to the back of the car for their luggage.

  The front door of Alex’s hideout burst wide and an elderly lady stepped onto the steps, her beaming smile lit by the outside light. “Kýrios Alex.”

  Another one of his loving female tribe. Of course. Well, at least Mr. Perfect would have to be mildly pleasant. She’d never seen him turn nasty with any of his employees and she’d bet he wasn’t going to start now.

  No, come to think of it, he was only nasty with her.

  The grumpy thought made her climb from the car in a huff.

  “That’s Nella.” He walked to Sophie’s side, carrying his suitcase and hers in his burly hands like they were mere handbags. “She and her husband take care of the place when I’m not here.”

  The lady’s smile widened and she burbled a long string of incomprehensible Greek. Alex smiled right back, his bad mood all gone in front of the older woman.

  Of course.

  “She doesn’t speak much English, and when she gets excited, she forgets.” He looked at Sophie and although the smile still lingered on his mouth, she saw a flash of the ugliness in the depths of his eyes.

  “Come on.” He waved one suitcase. “I’ll show you my home.”

  She followed him over the snow-packed path. When they got to the porch, she glanced up to meet two wide, brown eyes. Another dash of hurried Greek spilled into the silence of the night.

  “English, Nella, remember?” he said. “This is Sophia. My friend.”

  Friend? Is that all she was to him? A friend with perks?

  Her temper bubbled into another boil.

  The woman’s hands waved in a flutter, her expression one of amazement. Another blast of Greek excitement flowed from her mouth.

  “She’s not used to me bringing guests.” His lips twisted into a wry grimace.

  “You mean you haven’t brought a string of girlfriends here?” Irritation crackled in each of her words.

  “No.” He glanced away. “Only you.”

  Surprise and something wonderful welled in the center of her heart. Her temper simmered down. “Your mother and sisters don’t come here?”

  “No.” He set the suitcases on the stone steps. “They don’t even know about it.”

  Surprise turned into complete astonishment. Alex loved his family. She’d seen it during their fake engagement party. He’d spent time with every one of his sisters. He’d patiently listened to his mother’s worries about the party details. And every one of his nieces and nephews had been treated to a teasing hug or a laughing lift in the air.

  The idea that he’d keep a place like this secret from a family who loved to travel and clearly adored each other was another mystery she wanted to know everything about. “Why don’t they know about it?”

  “Nella.” He ignored her. “We’re tired and hungry.”

  The elderly lady clapped her hands together in apparent self-disgust. Waving them into the warm foyer, she gave Sophie a smile even wider than she’d given her employer. “Kahlos oreesate.”

  “That means welcome.” He strode past both of them, through a stone archway, carrying their two suitcases. “I’ll show you to your bedroom so you can freshen up.”

  Sophie gave the woman a smile in return before following him, her mind swirling. Her bedroom? So that meant he had his own bedroom? It certainly sounded like it. An unsettling brew of confusion and irritation ran through her. The mix of emotions didn’t allow her to take in the surroundings—other than to note the place was old; the barrel ceiling in the kitchen they passed and the ancient limestone walls arching around them told the story.

  He ascended a circular stone staircase, his head nearly hitting the rounded ceiling. Sophie climbed behind him to find a long hallway at the top. It ran along the length of the home, with ten red wooden doors lining each side.

  “This place is huge,” she ventured.

  “The place was an Ottoman prince’s palace at one point.” Striding down the hall, he opened the far door. “This is your bedroom.”

  She walked to where he stood and stared at him. “Mine alone?”

  “Ah, yeah.” He made a face. “Nella would be scandalized.”

  Okay. He hadn’t brought her here as some kind of sex toy.

  I need you.

  That hadn’t been sex he’d been talking about. The warm, wonderful feeling inside welled from her heart into her whole soul. “Alex—”

  “You’ll be comfortable here.” He paced away from her to set her suitcase on the canopied bed. Sophie took note of the antique Persian rug on the floor, a swirl of red and teal. Then there was the tapestry on the far wall that had to be another antique. Lastly the bed, with its cream drapes and lacy pillows, standing in the middle of the room looking like something made for a princess.

  This place was a simple hideout?

  “There’s an en suite bathroom.” He gestured to a stone archway. “And a terrace too, though it might be too cold to use.”

  “Does Nella keep every one of these bedrooms and bathrooms ready for use at all times?”

  “No.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I called ahead.”

  “So she knew you were bringing a guest this time.”

  “I guess.” Throwing her a sullen look, an apparent warning not to ask any more probing questions, he stalked back to where she stood in the doorway. “I’ll leave you alone now.”

  “Alex—”

  “Nella’s probably cooked something for dinner.” He went right past her into the hallway. “Come down when you’re ready.”

  She twisted around to stare at him. “You’re going to have to talk to me at some point.”

  “Now’s not that point.” And with that cryptic remark, he left her to stew.

  * * *

  Sophie scowled out at the pristine snow.

  Snow had fallen the entire day yesterday and all through this morning. Still, that’s not why she glared at the white stuff. No, she enjoyed snow. She liked to make snowmen and angels and romp around just like any other person who’d grown up in New York, but none of these activities were very fun to do alone.

  “Sophia.” Nella’s cheerful voice rang from the kitchen. “Éla. Have some soup.”

  Giving the snow one last glare, she marched into the blue-and-white kitchen that mixed modern with ancient in a suspiciously familiar way. The similarities between this kitchen and the one in Paris could not be a coincidence.

  “Here, here.” The elderly woman smiled as she waved her to the one lone setting lying on the big wooden table. “Lemon chicken soup will be good for lunch, hmm?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure.” She slumped onto the wicker-and-wood chair being held out for her and dipped her spoon into the soup.

  Nella and her husband, Petros, were wonderful. Nella cooked meal after meal with a smile. Petros had given her a tour of the grounds that included a surprisingly big stable filled with extremely short horses. Both of them had endeavored to make her feel completely at home.

  His home.

  His hideout.

  His place where he
’d dumped her like a used piece of tissue and disappeared.

  Her spoon clattered into the empty soup bowl.

  Sophie had been patient through the first night here. She’d smiled as the older woman had fed them lamb-stuffed quince and a tasty cheese-filled pastry Alex had told her was called masnic. She’d figured she’d have time to pull out whatever was bothering him during the next few days. Stupidly, she’d climbed into her solitary bed that night smug in the knowledge he couldn’t avoid her forever.

  Evidently, he thought he could. Because yesterday morning she’d awakened to Nella’s broad smile, a layered phyllo dough filled with cheese and egg the housekeeper called bougatsa, and no Alex.

  The Renault still stood in the driveway.

  His fancy suits hung in the bedroom all the way down the hallway from hers.

  His cell and laptop sat on the oak and marbled desk in the library.

  “Where is he?” she’d asked more than once.

  “Kýrios Alex say you stay here,” Nella explained haltingly. “He be back.”

  “Kýrios Alex needs time,” Petros had responded. “Like every man.”

  That last comment had made her grind her teeth, yet no matter how nice she was, or testy she was, the answer was always the same.

  She should stay put.

  He’d be back whenever he decided to come back.

  Yesterday, she’d tried to use her cell phone, but there was no reception. She’d also tried to find the keys to the Renault with no luck. Today, she was prepared to put on her peacoat and hike to the highway to hitch a ride.

  The problem was, he might not be here, but he was somewhere near. He had to be.

  The car.

  The suits.

  The cell phone and laptop.

  He wouldn’t leave his stuff behind if he had taken off for good. The memory of the ugly, dull look in his eyes made her eyes ache. She needed to find him.

  I need you here.

  She couldn’t leave him here all alone. Yes, Nella and Petros were wonderful people yet they didn’t know the real Alex.

  Not like she knew the real Alex.