‘We would have to work at it, in the way that people with arranged marriages have always done,’ he said. ‘And we will be walking into it with our eyes open—without any of the myths of love and romance which set people up for disappointment, and failure. If we refuse to have unrealistic expectations about each other, then we should succeed.’ He slanted her a smile. ‘Does that reassure you?’
Lucy thought how clever he was. And how controlling, too. That slow smile—she was certain—had been angled at her deliberately in order to pump up her heart rate and it had worked, hadn’t it? Was that the main reason he was here—because he thought of her as passive? Wasn’t it time to demonstrate that while she might be poor and unglamorous, that didn’t necessarily mean she was a complete pushover? ‘So what’s in it for me, Drakon?’ she questioned. ‘What made you think you could turn up without warning and ask me to become your wife? Were you so certain I’d say yes?’
Drakon’s eyes narrowed. He felt a certain responsibility towards her because he had unwittingly taken her virginity and had quashed his desire to see her again because he’d known he was capable of hurting her. He’d suspected that someone like her would be unable to cope with a commitment-phobe like him, even though he’d been sorely tempted to have sex with her again. But that had been back then—when his life had been free and unfettered. This was now, when he had an unexpected burden of responsibility to shoulder.
His mouth hardened. ‘I had an idea you might be tempted.’
‘Because?’
Would it be cruel to point out that without him a limited future inevitably beckoned for someone like her? But wouldn’t any future be limited compared with the one he was offering her with all the money she could ever desire? He looked once again at her bare fingers. ‘You don’t show any signs of settling down,’ he observed.
‘Not at the moment, no.’
‘So do you see yourself continuing to make ends meet as a relatively hard-up waitress?’ he mused. ‘Is that how you want the rest of your life to pan out?’
There was anger on her face now. And something which looked like pride. ‘I don’t just waitress. I actually help Caroline with all the cooking,’ she declared icily. ‘And she’s indicated that she’d be prepared to let me buy the business when she eventually retires, which is what I’ve been saving up for. The waitressing is just a means to an end.’
‘And that’s what you really want, is it, Lucy? Resigning yourself to a life of relative poverty. Of a futile wait for Mr Right, perhaps—’
‘Excuse me?’ She pulled back her shoulders and glared at him. ‘You think all women are just waiting around for a would-be husband to leap into their life?’
He gave a careless shrug. ‘I’m saying that plenty of them are, yes—at least, in my experience. But if that’s what you’re hoping for, let me enlighten you. That man is just fantasy. He’s someone who may or may not materialise,’ he said softly. ‘Whereas a rich man with whom you’re sexually compatible—a man who really needs you—he’s here. Right here.’
His words had got through to her, he could see that. Just as he could see the temptation which flickered in her blue eyes.
‘And if I were to agree...’ Her voice tailed off. ‘What kind of marriage would you expect?’
Drakon heard the uncertain note in her voice but her darkening eyes told a different story. And suddenly he found himself being sucked into a vortex of erotic recall. He remembered the softness of her thighs and the untamed bush of hair which concealed her untouched treasure. For perhaps the only time in his adult sexual life, he had been momentarily astonished—and not just because she hadn’t waxed—because what woman of twenty-eight was a virgin in this day and age? He remembered the soft gasp she’d given when he had entered her, the faint pain of her initial response quickly giving way to breathless murmurs of encouragement and then, to her first sweetly sobbing orgasm. And hadn’t that felt sublime? Hadn’t he experienced a deep satisfaction as she had choked out her pleasure against his bare shoulder, her ecstatic response filling him with a rush of primeval pleasure?
He’d made love to her countless times during those few short days—justifying his seemingly insatiable appetite with the assurance that he was simply enjoying introducing her to sex. But it had been more than that, even though he’d been loath to admit it then and was even less inclined to do so now. Her untutored eagerness had lit a strange yearning inside him—one which was being ignited right now.
He felt the exquisite throb of desire at his groin and heard the powerful thunder of his own heart. Maybe it was wrong to be thinking about sex at a time like this, but didn’t they say the life force was at its most powerful during periods of grief and loss? Wasn’t it nature’s way of sustaining the human race, as well as reinforcing that, while his twin brother might be lying cold and dead beneath the hard earth, he, Drakon, was very much alive and at the mercy of his senses?
He began to walk towards her, noticing the instinctive tremble of her lips as he grew closer, but she didn’t stop him, nor show any signs of wanting to. She just stood there, her blue eyes bright and questioning, her thick dark hair spilling out of the untidy plait which snaked down her back.
‘I would expect the usual things which marriage entails,’ he said huskily. ‘Physical intimacy, for a start. I think that’s one thing we both know we really do have in common.’
Distractedly, Lucy rubbed her toe against the rug, scarcely able to believe they were having this kind of conversation. Normally she didn’t have to deal with anything more taxing than someone asking whether there were any gluten-free sandwiches available. Yet Drakon Konstantinou had just come right out and told her they were sexually compatible—him with a vast cast of ex-lovers and her with only one! She had no experience of such things but instinct told her that his words were true.
But was it enough for her to accept his offer of marriage? Enough for her to turn her back on her old life and enter a new one, which might be exciting but was tinged with uncertainty? With a father and a brother in the military she had grown up surrounded by uncertainty and she’d hated it. She’d longed for a safer world. A more predictable world. It was one of the reasons why she’d never really made waves in her own adult life. Why she’d always followed the rules and played safe.
Until she’d bumped into Drakon Konstantinou one balmy summer evening and the world had spun on its axis.
She knew she should say no. She should retreat back into her comfortable little world and try to forget the sexy billionaire and his bizarre offer.
But Lucy had been badly affected by what had happened to her family. In a few short years it had been wiped out as if it had never existed. Her father, brother and mother had all died in relatively quick succession. Orphaned and alone, she’d felt as if she had no real place anywhere. Sometimes she’d felt invisible. She still did. As if people were looking right through her. And all these feelings were compounded by the fact that she could never have children and be able to create a family of her own.
She stared into Drakon’s rugged face, hope flaring inside her despite all her misgivings. Because the Greek tycoon was offering her exactly that. Something she’d once thought impossible but which, unlike him, she had wanted. An instant family. A baby to love and to care for. Her mouth dried. Could it work? Could she make it work? And by doing that give them both what they needed—he a wife and she a child?
She licked her lips. ‘When do you need an answer by?’
‘I don’t see any point in waiting. I am a man who likes to settle a deal as quickly as possible. Now would be ideal.’
She shook her head. ‘Now is too soon, Drakon. I need a few days to process this. To mull over everything you’ve said and decide whether or not it could work. It’s too big a consideration to just toss you an answer.’
His black eyes narrowed and in them Lucy could see speculation.
‘Of course, there’
s another factor which needs to be considered. I’d hate you to overlook that, Lucy.’
She asked the question without really thinking about it. ‘Which is what?’
He gave a slow smile. ‘Use your imagination.’
The dip in his voice and the suddenly smoky light in his eyes made Lucy realise he was going to touch her and on one level she recognised that it was studied and manipulative. But it still worked, because Drakon knew how to press all her buttons. Even though an inner voice was urging caution, Lucy let him pull her in his arms to kiss her and, oh, she was hungry for that kiss.
So hungry.
Her fingers coiled around his broad shoulders as the voice of reason tried to warn her this was only going to confuse matters. But her body was refusing to listen to reason—its hungry demands silencing every sensible objection. Because this was amazing. Sweet sensations were flooding her body and her newly awoken sexual appetite—honed by five months of aching absence—made her think she might faint if Drakon didn’t quell this sudden urgent need inside her.
His hand drifted up underneath her baggy sweater, his fingers encountering the shivering flesh of her torso before moving upwards to cup the straining mound of her breast. It was exquisite torture to feel her nipple pushing greedily against the lace of her bra, and all the while his lips were gently prising hers open. Exploring. Probing. Making her melt with the sensual flicker of his tongue. Making her writhe her hips in wordless appeal. She could feel the tension in his powerful body as he levered one powerful thigh between hers and it eased some of the pressure, even as it managed to build some more. She could feel the hardness at his groin. A hard ridge pressing urgently against the immaculate cut of his trousers, which told her graphically just how much he wanted her. She should have felt shy but that was the last thing she was feeling and Lucy knew that if the Greek had ripped off her jeans and panties before positioning himself where she was aching most, she would have taken him deep inside her.
‘Drakon,’ she choked out.
But her words seemed to shatter the spell as, abruptly, the kissing stopped. Moving his head away, he rocked back on his heels, inscrutable black eyes searching her face intently, and Lucy could see a nerve flickering at his temple. Had he decided he didn’t want her after all? she wondered wildly. Had that rapid near-seduction been a demonstration of his power over her, rather than real desire? And did that mean he was about to withdraw his offer of marriage?
‘Yes, I want you very much,’ he said, scarily answering her unspoken question before directing a rueful glance at his watch. ‘But now is not the time. Nor the place. Not when my car is waiting and I have a raft of meetings I need to attend. But it will keep.’
‘K-keep?’ she echoed.
‘Neh,’ he agreed, glittering her a sudden smile. ‘I’ve never been married before, Lucy. I’ve never wanted to be part of such a flawed institution, if the truth were known. But if I am to be your husband—which I fully intend to be—then there will be plenty of opportunity for lovemaking. And don’t they say that hunger is the best aphrodisiac of all?’
All the time he was speaking, his fingertip was tracing a line along the edges of her lips and Lucy hated the way her mouth quivered in response. Just as she hated his arrogant assumption that she would be his wife when she hadn’t given him her decision. ‘But I haven’t said I’ll marry you yet. And I can’t do that until I’ve met baby Xander,’ she added firmly.
A look of calculation entered his black eyes. ‘The key word is “yet”,’ he observed silkily. ‘For it indicates that your acceptance is simply a matter of time. We both know that.’ His black eyes glittered. ‘Because you will marry me, Lucy. Not just because I can reward you with the things most people spend their lives craving, but because you are in a position to help a vulnerable little baby as no other person could do right now. But that’s not all. You will marry me because you want me and the only way you’re going to have me is by agreeing to become my wife.’
CHAPTER THREE
THERE WAS BARELY any room for the limousine to make its way down the icy lane and Lucy’s heart was hammering as she locked the door of her cottage and made her way towards the luxury car. She looked around at the leafless trees and frosty bushes as if committing them to memory one last time—because who knew when she would be back?
Inadvertently she cracked through an icy puddle and mud sloshed onto her newly polished boots as Drakon’s chauffeur opened the door of the car, her tentative smile being met with nothing more than a deferential nod. As she slid onto the back seat she could feel her anxiety grow and the doubts which had been bugging her for days threatened to overwhelm her. She thought about the way Drakon had kissed her and the way her body had responded so hungrily. She thought about his track record with women and her own miserable tally of just one lover. She thought about how detached and indifferent he could seem, except when engaged in some form of sensual contact and a very real fear washed over her as she realised she was entering territory which was completely alien to her.
You don’t have to do this, she told herself. It’s not too late to pull out. Nobody’s forcing you to become the Greek tycoon’s wife. If he can’t get you to look after his orphaned nephew then his money will buy him the best care in the world. It isn’t your responsibility.
For a split second she thought about jumping out of the car. About rushing back to the sanctuary of her cottage and emailing Drakon to tell him she couldn’t go through with it. But then the limousine’s powerful engine fired into life and they were on their way to London and suddenly it was too late for Lucy to change her mind. And wasn’t the truth of it that deep down she didn’t want to, for all kinds of reasons? It certainly wasn’t the lure of the Greek tycoon’s glamorous lifestyle which was calling to her. She’d seen enough rich boys at the boarding school where her mother had worked to know that money certainly didn’t come with a guarantee of happiness. The thought of having a baby and a family of her own was the most powerful motivator, of course it was—but there was something else, too. Something which was much more intangible, and that was the way Drakon made her feel whenever he touched her. As if she were real. As if she were capable of things she’d never imagined she could do. It was a heady feeling but it was tinged with a danger she didn’t quite yet understand.
All through the journey to the capital, she tried to relax, trying her best to keep her boots from smearing mud on the pristine leather interior. Not for the first time she wondered what had happened to one of her suede moccasins, which had mysteriously gone missing—and it was something of a relief to be able to think about something unconnected to Drakon as she tried to work out exactly what had happened to it. Once she had exhausted all possibilities she tried to concentrate on the landscape which was rushing past the tinted windows, but her busy thoughts ensured that most of what she saw remained a blur until they reached the centre of London. And that was when Lucy blinked in surprise, feeling as if she’d emerged from her countryside bubble to arrive in a city she scarcely recognised.
Because Christmas was all around and it was as if the entire city had been taken over by Disney. The big stores were shiny with tinsel and glitter and fake snow. Red-clothed Santas with fluffy white beards rocked manically as little children pressed their noses against the plate-glass windows. Past the giant tree on Trafalgar Square the luxury car purred and when they stopped at some traffic lights, Lucy opened one of the windows slightly so she could hear the carol singers who were collecting money for the homeless. Her heart clenched as she registered the first notes of ‘Silent Night’ because it always reminded her of her brother, and quickly she pressed the button so that the electric window floated up to blot out the nostalgic carol. Instead she focussed on the crowds of people who all seemed to be on a mission, hell-bent on buying gifts even though there were several weeks left until the big day.
There were plenty of things Lucy liked about Christmas. The lights. The colou
rs. The music. The way usually inhibited people went out of their way to smile and say hello. She just didn’t like the way it made her feel, because it seemed to emphasise all the things she didn’t have. It was a time when you could feel extra-lonely if you lived on your own because most people seemed to have somebody, while she had nobody. It was when she most missed having a family. When she found herself feeling emotionally vulnerable—which wasn’t a particularly nice sensation. Usually she tucked herself away with a large supply of chocolate and sobbed her way through just about every corny film which was showing on TV.
But this year was going to be different. Her teeth pressed down hard on her bottom lip and she gnawed away at it. And how. She had a wedding to organise and—this was the bit she still couldn’t get her head around—she was going to be a Christmas bride. At least, that was the plan—although nothing had been arranged just yet, which was making the thought of marrying Drakon seem even more surreal than it already was. Excitement and dread flooded through her, yet the truth was that, despite her misgivings about becoming the Greek tycoon’s wife, she had stumbled at the first hurdle. She had fallen in love with his orphaned nephew.
Her throat thickened as she remembered meeting the tiny baby—a meeting on which everything had hinged. She had insisted on Drakon being absent. Had she been afraid he would influence her? That he would distract her with his powerful presence and remind her of how much she still wanted him? She had expected objections from the powerful tycoon. She’d imagined he might wish to observe her first contact with his tiny nephew as a kind of interactive job interview, but to her surprise he had agreed to stay away. She’d been jittery with nerves—because the thought of holding a baby again after so long had thrown up all kinds of complicated emotions. Alone, she had waited in one of the reception rooms of Drakon’s vast London apartment until the nanny had appeared with a snowy white bundle in her arms. Greek-born Sofia must have been in her fifties, though her step was spritely as she carried the baby towards Lucy.
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