Xenakis's Convenient Bride

by Dani Collins

She glanced, saw a new arrival in a tuxedo, then did a double-take as she recognized that the clean-shaven, gorgeous man was—

  “Oh, my God!”

  If the dry smile on Stavros’s sexy lips hadn’t given him away, the way her blood leaped in her arteries did. That was definitely Stavros. She didn’t react like this to any man except him.

  You’re going to see me again.

  She had refused to let herself even think it, let alone believe it.

  “Excuse me,” Takis muttered, and drew Calli toward Stavros, muttering, “Did you invite him?”

  “No.” Despite being as drawn as ever by Stavros’s magnetism, she had an urge to bolt. Takis’s arm across her back held her fast.

  Another zing of electricity shot through her as her gaze locked with Stavros’s.

  “We meet again. As promised,” he said, then lifted his gaze to her employer’s. “Takis.” It was a flat greeting. Arrogant and dismissive. Very nearly disdainful.

  “What are you doing here?” Takis demanded.

  She imagined he was taking note of the tuxedo. It was no rental. It was obviously made to fit Stavros’s honed form to perfection. He looked like a secret agent in a spy film as he accepted a flute of champagne from a circulating tray and sipped.

  “Men of my caliber are always invited.” He reached into the pocket of his tuxedo and handed over a card.

  “You run Dýnami Pharmaceuticals,” Takis said with disbelief, handing her the card that proclaimed this to be Steve Michaels, president.

  “I prefer my Greek name, Stavros Xenakis. Stav, if you like,” he said directly to Calli.

  Her heart took another leap while something slithery and wonderful curled deep in her belly under his regard. She had known he was more than he seemed. Now whatever shade he’d been standing under was gone and his full, glorious power was on display. He was both blinding and breath-stealing.

  “Technically my grandfather, the director, has last say on our biggest decisions. But that will change very soon.” His gaze stayed on Calli as though she was some kind of linchpin to that statement. “Let’s discuss how you’ll help me with that, shall we?”

  Her heart ping-ponged in her chest. “I could never—”

  “This can’t be real. Get out of my house, whoever the hell you are.”

  Stavros lifted a gaze that was both weary and completely uncompromising. “You negotiated a generous offer with an agent this morning. This house is mine.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “But I’ll graciously allow you to continue your party.”

  “What?” A wave of shock slammed into Calli, leaving her drained of all sensation, barely staying on her feet. She pulled from Takis’s hold to look up at him.

  Around them, the music and conversation continued. The lights sparkled and water splashed as a handful of couples laughed in the pool. A few faces glanced in their direction, making her conscious that she should keep her voice down and her expression neutral, but she couldn’t take it in.

  Takis wasn’t able to hide his flash of culpability. “I countered by doubling it. I didn’t think it would be accepted. I was going to tell you later. I can send you to New York, Calli.”

  Hot tears of panic filled her throat. It was one thing to want something with every fiber of your being, quite another to go after it. What if it didn’t work out? What if she failed? What if she found her son and he wanted nothing to do with her? She wasn’t ready!

  “That won’t be necessary.” There was a possessive edge to Stavros’s tone. “Calli will be coming to New York with me. As my wife.”

  “What?!” Calli didn’t realize she’d been holding a champagne flute until it hit the tiles and smashed, leaving a wet stain spreading on the fancy new tiles Stavros had laid and now possessed. She swore under her breath and shot an abashed look around.

  “Let’s take this somewhere private.” Stavros took her elbow. “Clean that up, would you?” he ordered one of the servers who came hurrying toward them.

  Calli jolted under the impact of his light touch and wanted to pull away, but she’d already made enough of a scene. Takis was drilling holes into her with his gaze, and the weight of the crowd’s attention made her even hotter with embarrassment.

  Rather than tightening his grip when he felt her stiffen, Stavros gentled his touch, so it became a caress that sent furls of disarming heat into her belly.

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” she told him as he crowded close, urging her toward the house. “What are you even doing here? Why were you here, pretending to be a pool man, if you’re actually some kind of drug tycoon?”

  “Now, see? That sounds like you do want to talk. Come. All will be revealed.”

  She quickly moved ahead of him, folding her arms and trying to rub away the lingering sensation of his touch as she entered the den that served as a home office for Takis.

  Stavros closed the door firmly behind them.

  She swung around, her entire body prickling with fight or flight. “Explain, then.”

  He lifted one brow at her tone, but only shrugged.

  “It was a bet.” His attention shifted to assess the spare decor of his new workspace. “My friend has a sense of humor. He challenged a few of us to go two weeks without our credit cards, claiming we couldn’t survive it. I did. Thanks to you.” He shifted his weight onto one leg and flexed his foot to indicate where he’d had stitches.

  “Congratulations,” she bit out, watching him move to the liquor cabinet and help himself to the ouzo. “Why do you want this house?”

  He didn’t answer until he had poured and brought the small glasses across to her. She remembered thinking he would make an excellent poker player and thought it again as she tried to read his shuttered expression.

  “Yamas.” He clinked his glass to hers before throwing back his drink. “This was my home as a child. When my father died, my grandfather moved us to New York and sold it. I want it back.”

  His father. She recalled his anguish that day on the peninsula and knew it was his father he was still searching for, lost in that unforgiving water. Shadows of that old grief moved behind the shuttered stare he offered her now.

  Her heart began to tilt toward him, like a flower reaching out to the sun, but she gave it a quick yank back. She couldn’t afford to soften toward him.

  “Must be nice to simply write a check and get what you want. You realize that means I’m shoved off without a job or a home? Thanks.”

  “Your job will be ‘wife of a drug tycoon.’ I’ll admit that ‘heir to a multinational pharmaceutical research and manufacturing conglomerate’ is a mouthful, but let’s try to find some middle ground. What do you say?”

  “I say you’re a dishonest person, Steve. And I’m not going to marry you. What on earth makes you think I would?”

  Stavros lifted a scathing brow. “Shall I remind you what we left unfinished between us?”

  A flood of heat washed over her. It was a mix of embarrassment and memory, pleasure and the pain of rejection. She set aside her untasted ouzo and folded her arms.

  “Key word. You left,” she stated flatly. “I’ve moved on.”

  Something hard and bright flashed in his gaze. “With whom?”

  “Takis.” She lifted her chin to deliver the outrageous lie.

  “Nice try, but I already know you didn’t marry him when you had the chance. He’s a bit of a fool, asking when you were already living a fine life without putting out or getting pregnant in exchange for it.”

  She fell back a step. “What a horrible thing to say!”

  He shrugged. “True, though. Isn’t it?”

  “No!” Takis had been kind to her in a thousand ways. She deserved none of it, but she had never felt anything toward him except gratitude and affection. “Well, it’s true I didn’t want to get pregnant. But I also said no because I didn’t love him. Not the way a wife should love her husband anyway. Which is why I won’t marry you.”

  “That’s good news. The part where you don’t
love either of us.” He poured a fresh ouzo for himself. “As is the fact you don’t want children.”

  She hadn’t said that. She just wanted to find the child she’d already had before she thought about having more. She swallowed the lump that came into her throat and shifted her stance. “Look, buy the house. I can’t stop you. But why on earth would you suggest we marry?”

  “My grandfather has been pressuring me to find a wife. He’s holding off stepping down as director until I do. All the women I know would demand a real marriage. By that I mean years of my life. Children. Half of my assets if we divorce.”

  “You don’t like children?” It suddenly became a pivotal sticking point in a conversation that was too outlandish to be happening, but she couldn’t help jumping to a vision of finding her son and watching Stavros reject him. Her heart began to thud in painful tromps.

  “I’m told I need an heir, but I’m in no hurry.” He swirled the clear liquid in the bottom of his glass. “In fact, I plan to leave that up to my sisters, but I’m impatient to take the reins of the company. I need a wife to present to my grandfather. One who will act the part but leave on cue. Why do you want to move to New York?”

  “How do you know that? Have you had me investigated?” She paled as she wondered what he’d found.

  “I overheard you and Takis one day. Why? Do you have a deep dark secret you want to stay buried?” He narrowed his gaze. “Tell me now. I don’t want a scandal popping up to smudge the family name.”

  She knew people whispered on the island that she’d had a teen pregnancy. They all thought the baby had died and Stavros might hear that same rumor if he sent someone to snoop, but he wouldn’t find a headstone for the boy. Her father had refused to pay for one. Because her son wasn’t dead.

  He was somewhere in New York. At least, his father, Brandon Underwood, was in New York and he knew where the infant had been placed.

  “I have a normal desire for privacy,” she said, glossing over her alarm. “I don’t like the idea you’re prying.” But it was starting to hit her that Stavros had the means to pry. That she would have the means.

  With Stavros’s name and social standing behind her, she would have the power to confront Brandon. The cache to meet him on a level playing field, face-to-face.

  The thought made her dizzy.

  “You live in New York? That’s where you want to take me?” she confirmed, trying to keep from hoping. It was too big, too fast. Too easy.

  “Manhattan, yes. Why do you want to go?”

  She touched her neck where it felt as though her pulse would burst the skin. Takis had tried to help, taking her to a lawyer who had written a couple of letters on her behalf, but Brandon’s family had been too rich and influential, exactly as her mother had warned her. There was a death certificate on file, so she’d been dismissed as everything from an opportunist to a loony. Brandon claimed to have no recollection of her. As far as he was concerned, their affair had never even happened, let alone the birth of a boy his family had stolen.

  Paid for, they might argue, if they ever admitted he’d been conceived at all.

  “It’s just always been a dream of mine,” she prevaricated, folding her arms again and feeling the spike of her fingernails into her upper arms. Could she do this? Pretend to be a society wife and confront an old lover to find her son?

  “Surely you could have managed a holiday if you wanted one?” The deep timbre of Stavros’s voice seemed to come through water, hollow and barely penetrating her swimming thoughts.

  “I want to live there. I’ve started the paperwork, but...” She shook herself out of becoming too attached to this crazy idea. It would devastate her if it didn’t pan out. “It would be a green-card marriage,” she warned. “Is that the sort of scandal you’d like to avoid?”

  “You won’t be working. Even after we separate, I’ll support you. My lawyers can handle all of that very easily.”

  Must. Be. Nice.

  “I still don’t understand why you would ask me.” A lowly nanny maid with no skills. No worth to society beyond what Takis and his daughter had bestowed upon her.

  “As I said. You’ll agree to something temporary and not clean me out as you leave. There will be a prenup and a suitable settlement. That’s all. You realize that’s what you’re agreeing to? Six months should be enough time to transition my grandfather out.”

  “You’re really offering a marriage on paper so you can—”

  “Oh, Calli,” he cut in. “Don’t be naive. We’ll share a bed. That’s why I’m choosing you.”

  A burst of excitement exploded in her, making her turn her face to try to hide her reaction. He must have guessed, or seen her blush. Knowing laughter scraped from his throat.

  “You’re assuming I would want that,” she said in a thin voice.

  “I’m quite certain you do.”

  “Your arrogance is a turn-off.”

  “So is your denial of the truth.”

  She swung a glare toward him, instantly anxious that she had caused his interest to wane. He was such a dangerous man.

  He set down his glass and held up his hands, motioning her to come to him. “Let’s seal the deal.”

  “I need time to think.” She scowled at the carpet, blind to the pattern and only seeing a blur of blues and greens. “This is happening too fast.”

  “It will happen fast.” He came toward her, clasping her upper arms before she could properly catch her breath. “It has to. But you’ll be paid out by Christmas and free to do as you please. So will I.”

  Christmas. With her son...

  She barely dared allow such a sweet dream to form.

  “You want me to sleep with you for personal gain.” She choked on the words as she said them.

  “We’re going to sleep together either way.”

  “Do you have a subscription for that level of confidence? Because I’d love to know where it comes from.”

  “Right here, glykia mou. In the way you respond to me.” Stavros pulled her up against him and wiped her brain clean with the first touch of his mouth, sending a shock of pained excitement through her, like she’d slammed into a wall of lightning.

  With a moan of angst, she tried to hold back her response, not wanting to be so easy for him. To prove to herself she could resist him. This. But her body betrayed her. Her arms couldn’t resist climbing to twine around his neck so she could hang on as the rest of her wilted and softened.

  He felt so good, his strong arms supporting her, his hands stroking her lower back in a way that made her scalp tingle. She found herself opening her mouth beneath his, hungrily returning his kiss and welcoming the intrusion of his tongue. Losing herself in the waves of pleasure that rolled with increasing intensity through her.

  In a brutal move of forced deprivation, he set her back on her flat feet, wet mouth curled into a cruel smile of satisfaction. “Need more proof?”

  He wasn’t even breathing hard. Not like she was.

  It was humiliating, but it was the education she needed. She hated him enough in that moment to feel no twinge of conscience over using him. Not if he was going to use her libido to manipulate her.

  Her level of desire scared her, though. Hormones had led her into heaven and hell once before. The joy of a son, the grief of losing him, all because she’d wanted someone to kiss her and treat her like she was special.

  “You don’t love me,” she said through lips that felt scorched and puffy. It was a needle of truth that she plunged into herself, before he could do it, as a vaccine. She was trying to undercut the way she reacted to him, form antibodies so he wouldn’t leave her devastated in six months.

  “No,” he agreed blankly. “I don’t.”

  The needle bent and she gave it a twist, snapping it off.

  “Don’t say it. You lied once. Don’t do it again. Don’t make promises you won’t keep. Don’t...” She looked at her hands where she tangled her fingers in agitation.

  She wanted to say, Don’
t hurt me. Not because she was afraid for her physical self, but as much as she had learned to protect her heart, it was still a very thin-shelled, fragile thing.

  A firm hand cupped her jaw and forced her to look into his eyes. “Don’t?”

  She pulled free of his touch before she melted and betrayed herself again. “This is a business agreement. Don’t try to get inside my head.”

  He held her gaze and she tremored inside, wondering how anyone worked with a man this intense and powerful without incinerating under his laser regard.

  “And I’m not sleeping with you until we’re married.”

  A muscle in his cheek ticked. “Let’s make it happen quickly, then.”

  * * *

  Stavros had no best man. Alejandro was away on his challenge and Sebastien was witnessing Antonio’s nuptials in Rome.

  Antonio took the opportunity to provide sober second thoughts anyway, cautioning Stavros against taking a wife to appease his grandfather. “The first time I married, it was purely to serve family expectations. It was a disaster. Think twice, amico.”

  Stavros wasn’t about to be swayed. “You’re marrying for love this time, are you?” he challenged.

  “I have a son.” It was a face call and Stavros saw Antonio’s jaw harden. His friend said nothing about the mother, Sadie.

  Stavros had to wonder how a marriage like that could succeed, given the woman had kept such an explosive secret for so long, but he only said, “I want custody of my company. Same thing. And we’ve agreed it’s only for six months.”

  “She said yes to that?” Antonio’s brows lifted in surprise, then he shrugged as if to say, “Do what you like, then.”

  Stavros always did.

  He ended the call, but soon heard from Alejandro. He thought he was about to get another warning, but aside from surprise, Alejandro passed no opinion on Stavros’s marriage. He was more concerned with getting a DNA test for a horse.

  What the hell was his friend facing in Kentucky?

  Stavros had to wonder if Sebastien would think this challenge was worth the loss of half his fortune. It had turned out more mentally taxing than Stavros had expected, but it had only increased his desire to take control of his own fortune, not to seek a higher purpose with his life.