A Perfect Wife: International Billionaires V: The Greeks

by Caro LaFever

  Because during the day, he was as rude as ever. Especially with her.

  His family noticed and worried.

  She tried to continue with the façade of a happy marriage. After all, she’d promised. Still, the guy wasn’t making it easy with his grouchy behavior and surly slurs.

  The guy in question turned to look at her and his grin faded.

  Her heart squeezed into a tight knot of hurt.

  “Gýrna píso̱ kai na teleió̱sei ti̱n apó̱leia.” His grandfather’s voice rang from the living room in challenge.

  “I’m coming back,” he called. “But not to lose to you, old man.”

  The backgammon games had started grudgingly, Aetos complaining he had far too much to do around the farmhouse, and why the hell didn’t his cell phone work? The series of games, though, had now appeared to become a herculean challenge to his honor, to his grandfather’s, and to his uncles and male cousins. The lot of them had spent the last few days in a revolving tournament of escalating crows of glee, threats of violence, and masculine idiocies.

  The women tut-tutted and gathered in the kitchen to gossip.

  A sudden wash of tears filled her eyes. Another scene reminding her of her childhood. Or maybe the tears were as much about Aetos’s continued coldness as they were about her old memories.

  “Óchi, no.” His grandmother’s hand stopped him from returning to the living room. “It is time you and Natalie find a tree.”

  The English was halting, yet understandable. Also, incomprehensible. “A tree?” Nat arched her brows. There were plenty of trees everywhere outside.

  “I bought you a tree.” Aetos frowned.

  Obviously, he’d bought them a tree. He’d bought them everything and it had all landed, as she’d expected, in the run-down shed. Everything meant everything. There’d been appliances and mattresses. Curtains and comforters. There’d been a long row of furniture lining one wall while the other side of the shed had been filled with a mishmash of tools, toys, and trophies.

  He’d cursed as he opened the shed doors. Loudly. For a long time.

  His grandparents had merely shrugged in unison.

  Everything had come out of the shed. The mattresses had been placed on the new beds. The new shower and tub had been installed in the bathroom. The curtains had been hung and the tools had replaced the ancient instruments scattered across the farm, the vineyard, and the olive groves.

  The man was a bundle of energy.

  She’d watched him as he swung the ladder to lean on the side of the house so he could climb up and inspect the roof. Then, he’d clambered down and cursed his grandfather. Who’d shrugged once more. A day later, there’d been a swarm of men working on the roof.

  She watched as he strode across the land his family owned, barking orders to a variety of workmen who dutifully started to install the new piping for the water sprayers. A new grape harvester appeared on the side of the shed and his pappoús looked as excited about the machine as his giagiá had been about her new stove.

  As she watched and watched, she felt and felt. Felt the tug of unwilling respect for the powerful passion he put into everything he did. Felt the grudging approval for how he could transform his grandparents’ aging, dilapidated farmhouse into a warm, welcoming, modern version of a home they’d continue to feel comfortable in.

  The man understood. He knew love deep inside. Only the outer shell of the man kept him from becoming who he was meant to be. A man who was meant to be here within the heart of his family and his home and his land.

  She knew it. But he still didn’t.

  “Aetos.” His giagiá’s eyes were bright with laughter. “That thing is not a tree.”

  “It is a tree. I saw it in its box out in the shed.” He frowned again, an expression of bafflement crossing his face.

  Nat’s heart did a twist and a turn and fell right into his adorableness. The wrench of emotions wove through the building need and desire for this man. His tall, angular body moving fluidly as he helped load the tiles onto the roof. The way he walked with lithe gracefulness as he strode across the olive grove. The way the sun shone on his hair, gilding him with golden gorgeousness.

  The way his heat beckoned her in their shared bed.

  “A tree cannot be in a box.” His pappoús shuffled into the kitchen and settled into his customary chair. “Certainly not a Christmas tree.”

  Ah ha! That kind of tree. Natalie silently agreed. A Christmas tree did not come in a box.

  “That’s the most expensive one there is.” The deep frown only made him more beautiful and more adorable. The man was clueless.

  “It’s silver.” His grandfather pronounced the two words with a puzzled grimace.

  “It’s supposed to be silver.”

  Shaking her head, his giagiá looked askance at Natalie. “Do all Americans have silver Christmas trees?”

  “No.” She laughed, even though the tight ball of his rejection filled her stomach. Glancing over, she noticed his eyes were hot. Likely hot with anger because she didn’t defend him on this one. Too bad. “Usually it’s the wealthy people who have silver Christmas trees.”

  “Hmm.” His grandfather took out his pipe. “We are not wealthy.”

  “I am.” Their grandson’s expression went stubborn. “So you are.”

  “Aetos.” His grandmother tut-tutted. “That tree will not smell.”

  “Correct.” He paced across the room to his pappoús and wrenched the pipe from his hand. “The thing also won’t shed needles everywhere.”

  “A Christmas tree should smell,” Nat injected, solidly on the right side. “That’s part of Christmas.”

  The old man snatched his beloved pipe back and grinned when his grandson glared down at him. “Do as your gynaíka and your giagiá command. Go find us a Christmas tree.”

  Impatience swelled from him, filling the room with his frustration. Abruptly, she understood what it meant if he agreed. She’d be alone with him. Finding a tree. He’d unleash his grievances on her.

  “All right,” he finally barked. “Come on.”

  He marched to the door and Natalie slunk after him. What had she got herself into?

  The day was balmy for December. The simple sweater and jeans she’d thrown on this morning were ideal for keeping her warm. She hated to admit it, but being around him kept her warm too.

  He glanced at her, his gaze dark with heat. “I suppose I’ll have to be the one to chop down whatever damn tree you decide on.”

  Bristling, she brushed away the continued hurt and shot right back. “I can chop as well as you.”

  With a snort, he stomped into the now-mostly-empty shed and came out with a sturdy-looking ax. He pointed towards the mountains. “We’ll go up the mountain where there’s plenty of real pine trees you can choose from.”

  Ignoring his sarcasm, she followed him. By his stiff gait and rigid shoulders she saw what was in her near future. A lot of nasty comments and rude behavior.

  The man was ridiculous. This should be fun, finding a real, live Christmas tree in the woods. She’d only ever shopped for Christmas trees in busy garden centers with her father cursing, and her mother pursing her lips as she eyed each and every pine. As a kid, she’d been excited because as soon as they’d take the chosen tree home, the whole family would spend the evening hanging the lights and ornaments on the boughs. Her dad would laugh as he drank his mulled wine with his brothers and her mom would look happy.

  But here she was, starting an adventure, and stubborn, ridiculous Aetos Zenos, as usual, was ruining it.

  “You are extremely stupid.” She glared at his unyielding back.

  He stilled, stopped. Turned to scowl at her. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Her bubbling hurt and frustration came pouring out. “You’ve got everything here. Everything.”

  “Here?” He glanced around dismissively. “Here in this godforsaken land?”

  “It’s not the land I’m talking about. It’s your family.”<
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  An exclamation of disgust was his only response.

  The sound burned her hide. She’d cheerfully like to take a stick and hit him over his obtuse head. Or maybe borrow the axe he held and cleave him right in two. “Here you are. Where you belong—”

  “Bullsh—”

  “Where you are loved—”

  “They love my money.” He said the words like he meant them, yet his eyes, his chestnut eyes, gleamed with a desperate desire to flee the real truth.

  “All you do is grumble and complain. You’re a moron.”

  His brown gaze lit with fierce gold. “Stupid. Moron.”

  “Nai.” She propped her hands on her hips. “And a total grouch. A jerk.”

  With one step, he was upon her. “I don’t belong here.”

  “Idiot.”

  “I have important work to do.”

  “The important work you need to do is right here.” She stuck out her chin and met his glare with an unflinching one of her own. “You’ve made a good start on the farmhouse. But look at these vineyards.”

  His gaze didn’t follow the swish of her hands as she waved to her left, gesturing toward the lines of barren vines waiting for spring. Waiting for love. Instead, he kept staring and glaring as if he could press her words and actions back into the past.

  “Your grandfather needs help.”

  “No,” he gritted. “Tuckermarkets needs my help.”

  “Okay.” She remembered. The passion in his voice, the excitement when he’d talked about taking over the markets. “Then do both.”

  Another snort of dismissal.

  “Are you saying you aren’t capable of doing both?”

  The challenge shot through him and he snapped straight. “I need to be in New York City.”

  “All the time?” She kept at him, hoping somewhere deep inside the seed had been sown.

  “Shut up.” He turned around and marched away toward the rising path between the trees.

  Natalie had never been very good with men, never good at cajoling or convincing. Yet somehow, someway, she’d come to know this man. She knew with certainty; it was time to let the subject go.

  For now.

  The path meandered, spiraling and ascending. Memories swept in. Another path, another time following this beautiful man into his past. Another time when she’d noted the beauty of his movement, the way his long legs paced and his back muscles moved. Just as with that time, she became entranced. What made it worse was now she had the memory of his heat beside her in bed and the grin he’d recently given his grandmother. Now she had the knowledge he loved and was loved.

  “This one.” He stopped in front of a short, stout pine.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Eyeing it, she swiveled to stare at him. “This one is tiny.”

  “You’re not the one who’s going to have to carry it back home.”

  Home.

  She noticed his abrupt flinch when he said the last word. Everything inside her melted with compassion. “I’m going to help drag the tree to the farmhouse. But not this one.”

  He glanced at her, a surprising twinkle of amusement lighting his eyes. “Are you always this bossy?”

  “What?” She couldn’t help the smile, the tiny smile. “You just noticed?”

  The laugh rumbled from deep within him and grew. He threw his head back, his white teeth flashing in the sun, his eyes crinkling shut. Nat’s heart hitched and stuttered in her chest. A glow of pure happiness bloomed inside her. She’d done this, made him laugh.

  Made him happy.

  His laugh finally faded, yet his grin continued to linger. The grin that made her heart stop. She needed to pry herself away from this man before she fell at his feet in whimpering defeat. “Come on.” She marched past him. “Let’s keep looking.”

  He followed her without complaint.

  Color her surprised.

  An hour later, she found what she was looking for.

  “Are you sure?” One golden male brow rose. “I don’t think we’ve viewed every pine tree on the mountain. Not quite yet.”

  The dry humor was as effective in stuttering her heart as his laugh. “I’m sure.”

  “We could take another week or so to make sure this is the one.”

  Teasing. He was teasing her. Astonishment wound around a kernel of hope, warm and cherished inside. Memories of her teasing cousins rushed through her, bringing her skill at bantering right back. “We’d miss Christmas. It’s only one day away.”

  “True.” He leaned on the axe and stared at the huge pine. “However, we might miss it anyway. By the time I hack this giant down—”

  “I’m doing some of the hacking.”

  He glanced at her. “Okay, boss.”

  Another of his grins. She loved his grins, though a sharp tinge of fear flashed through her whenever he gifted her with one. Every time, her heart recognized its dive, its fall, its crash.

  “Go ahead, hack.” The axe landed in her hands.

  Dismissing her emotional fears, she walked to the trunk and took a swing, and another. Within minutes, she understood rather quickly that cutting a tree down was not as easy as it appeared. Not easy at all. Still, she refused to admit defeat and the axe kept swinging and swinging.

  “Theós.” The voice behind her brimmed with male superiority. “Give me the axe.”

  She looked at him and back at the slight cut in the bark. She was sweating and puffing and feeling like a totally useless female. “I can do it.”

  “Maybe.” Wry doubt filled his voice. “And we might make it home sometime in March.”

  She glanced at him.

  Home.

  The word came from his mouth with a light flip. Not a flinch in sight.

  Her heart soared into the sky.

  “Move over.” He snatched the axe from her hands and started to whack.

  The pine came down in a few minutes, with a creak and a slam on the hard dirt of the mountain.

  He breathed heavily and sweat had broken out on his forehead. Yet on him, sweat and puffing was nothing short of beauty and artistry.

  Leaning on the axe, he eyed her. Abruptly, she noticed how the exercise had ruffled his hair. The honey curls, now released from his strict supervision, tumbled on his forehead, making him look adorable and as impossibly delicious as his grandmother’s cookies.

  “Okay, slacker.” His mouth rose at the edge. “Your turn.”

  She’d sat down to watch him hack at the trunk, figuring she might have a long wait. Instead, he’d managed to cut through the tree in half the time she’d estimated. “What do you mean?”

  “I hacked. You drag.”

  The tree appeared about ten times bigger on the ground than it had in the sky. “I’m going to need some help.”

  “What?” His brows rose in mock surprise. “The boss needs help?”

  “Shut up.” It was her turn to say the words, but he only chuckled in response.

  It was a saving grace they were going downhill. With his strength and her contribution, they managed to get the tree moving. The limbs slapped her legs and the strong scent of pine enveloped her entirely. He walked on the other side of the tree, silent. A peace flowed between them, though. A peace filled with quiet energy. A sense of hope and anticipation.

  Euphoria threatened to overwhelm her and she tried to distract herself by talking.

  “When did you move here?” The question plopped out of her mouth without prior thought and she cringed. Distracting didn’t mean ruining the moment.

  But he didn’t stop or glare or tell her to shut up. He merely answered. “I was fifteen.”

  She glanced at him. His face was still serene, so she asked again. “Why?”

  The stump of the tree waggled in front of her. For some reason, she couldn’t look at him. Some other kind of energy slithered into the air around them. She’d brought it upon them with her infernal questions. Her heart did the dive she’d worried about earlier, yet not for the reason she’d expect
ed.

  He answered once more. “My father threw me out of his house.”

  She stopped. “What?”

  He stopped, too, and turned to stare at her. His face no longer was serene, it was stoic.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  His mouth twisted. But it wasn’t a smile or a grin. It wasn’t wry or resigned.

  Bitter. It was bitter.

  She’d done this. She’d ruined the fragile peace flowing between them only minutes ago. She’d brought back memories that hurt him. “Never mind.”

  His gaze was glazed with remembered horror. Some evil memory turning them black.

  “Aetos.” She grabbed onto a pine branch and tugged. “Forget it. Let’s get this home to your grandparents.”

  Home.

  The word was like a slap in the mountain air. His expression sharpened and cleared. “He threw me out because I’d seduced his wife.”

  These words did more than slap. They cracked and cut. They landed around her like a series of bombs blasting into her heart.

  “My stepmother.”

  Natalie looked into his eyes. The chestnut gold was dulled by his confession. And she knew. Absolutely. “No, you didn’t.”

  He jerked. His eyes widened.

  “You would never do that.”

  The absolute conviction in her voice seemed to penetrate his pain. He stared at her and she rejoiced as she saw the golden highlights glint once more. “You know me so well, gynaíka mou?”

  Another memory of another time. When he’d asked the question with a sneer, with a snarl. She hadn’t known him then. He’d been nothing but a lying thief, in her opinion. A pompous ass who thought of no one except himself. She’d misjudged him, only seeing the outside, not the inner beauty.

  She knew him now. Knew him right to his heart.

  “Yes.” She dropped the tree and stepped around it to his side. “Nai. I know you very well.”

  Reaching for him, she tugged his mouth to hers.

  Chapter 19

  The mágissa was kissing him. Kissing him.

  Everything around him dropped away. The blue sky. The pine scent. Even the dirt beneath his feet. Aetos felt as if he soared away into a land of sweet surprise and delicious lust.