by Sarah Morgan
Totally modern?
Alesia gaped at him, wondering if he truly knew himself at all. This was a man who told her how to wear her hair and how to dress and who clearly saw her prime role as being to satisfy his rampant sexual needs. And he thought he was modern?
Before she could enlighten him as to the true meaning of the word, the car door opened and she was ushered into the nightclub amidst an explosion of flashbulbs and photographers yelling for her to look this way and that.
One photographer came in too close and was instantly blocked by two of Sebastien's security team.
Alesia glanced around her in confusion and astonishment. 'I can't think why they're suddenly so interested in me’ she muttered and Sebastien flashed her a seductive smile that seriously threatened her ability to walk in a straight line.
'Because I married you, agape mou ’ he drawled lazily, 'and our two families have been at war for three generations. Newspaper editors the world over are loving it and so are the gossip magazines. Photographs of us will sell for a small fortune.'
People would pay for photographs of them?
Why? She was just an ordinary girl dressed up in designer clothes!
Casting a shimmering glance in her direction, Sebastien lifted an eyebrow. 'How did your grandfather manage to keep you hidden from the media for all those years, tell me that?'
Alesia dragged her fascinated gaze away from the banks of photographers jolting for her attention. ' I—er—I led a very private life’ she muttered vaguely, wondering again why anyone would be remotely interested in staring at a photograph of her. The outfit was nice, but still...
Alesia allowed herself to be ushered into the sleek, ultramodern club and gazed around in awe. The club was crowded with beautiful people and she realized suddenly that her impossibly tiny skirt didn't look remotely out of place in this setting.
This place is crowded with people wearing nothing but underwear.' She raised her voice to be heard above the music and Sebastien raised a dark eyebrow in response to her comment and then gave a reluctant smile.
'Dancing is hot work.'
Watching the gyrations on the dance floor, Alesia opened her mouth to confess that she'd never been to a nightclub in her life before and then realized that such a confession would betray far too much about her.
Evidently he believed her to be a real party animal: a rich, pampered heiress who spent her entire life shopping and then modelling the results. This was supposed to be her natural habitat.
She stared around in fascination, drinking it all in. She'd never been anywhere like this.
Coloured lights swirled and flashed, various effects shimmered and smoked and through it all the pounding, pulsing beat of the music tempted more and more people on to the exotically lit dance floor.
Alesia felt a thrill of excitement that she couldn't quite identify. Suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to be on that dance floor. She wanted to let her body move to the compelling, hypnotic rhythm. She wanted to enjoy herself.
She turned to Sebastien, her eyes bright and her lips parted. ‘ I want to dance.'
And dance and dance...
Night-black eyes clashed with hers and his hard mouth lifted in mockery. 'With or without the shoes?'
She didn't care. She just wanted to move.
"I'll start with shoes and then we'll see—' Aware that they were still attracting a significant degree of interest, she glanced around with a frown. ‘ Do people never stop staring?'
'You are the granddaughter of one of the richest men in the world,' he drawled, casting a cynical glance over his broad shoulder. 'Like me, you must be used to it. People always stare. You know that.'
She bit her lip and tried to look casual and confident, as though being the object of everyone's attention was an everyday occurrence.
With an air of bored cool that reflected his total lack of interest in the people gawping at them, Sebastien threaded his fingers through hers and led her on to the dance floor, retaining his possessive grip on her as they moved together.
The music pounded and pulsed and Alesia closed her eyes and discovered for the first time in her life that she just loved to dance. She loved the silken brush of her hair as it swished from side to side, loved the sinuous sway of her body as she moved her hips and arms to the addictive rhythm of the music. In fact she loved it all
She danced to record after record, her body seduced by the hectic rhythm of the music and the relative anonymity of the crowded dance floor.
Finally the music slowed and Sebastien hauled her against him in a characteristically possessive gesture which should have annoyed her but for some reason made her already wide smile widen even further.
He was easily the best-looking guy in the room and all the women were staring at him. And she was willing to bet that they would have been staring even if he hadn't been rich and famous and useful for selling newspapers to a public hungry for a diet of celebrity gossip. Sebastien Fiorukis was a man who would stand out in the densest crowd. It was like parking a sleek Ferrari in a bicycle shed. He just looked expensive and he had an air of power and command that would always draw women like moths to a bright flame.
But for tonight he was with her, she thought, gleeful as a child as she intercepted the envious glances cast in her direction.
Trying to see him as a stranger would, her eyes skimmed over his glossy dark hair and slid to the hint of bronzed skin visible at the neck of his shirt. He looked every inch the multi-millionaire that he was. Vibrant, driven and successful at everything he touched. A man who didn't know the meaning of the word failure. He was part of her new costume and every bit as glamorous and sophisticated as the shoes and the designer outfit.
They danced until her feet ached and her throat was parched and finally she agreed to his suggestion that they break for a drink.
Responding to an impulse that she didn't understand, she wound her arms around him and gave him a spontaneous hug before they left the dance floor. ‘ Oh, Sebastien, thank you.' Breathless and laughing, her eyes shone as she looked up at him. This is fantastic and I'm having the best time—' She felt him stiffen and watched as stunned dark eyes swept her flushed cheeks.
'You're behaving as though you've never been to a nightclub before.'
‘ I haven't. I mean, not one like this,' she corrected herself quickly, wincing at her own mistake. Aware that he was studying her with a curious expression on his face, she tilted her head questioningly, still breathless from wild dancing, her eyes shining with an excitement that she couldn't even begin to conceal.
She knew she should be playing it cool, looking bored and indifferent as if she spent her life in places like this, but she just couldn't. There was too much adrenalin flowing through her veins, too much excitement—
In fact, she wanted the evening never to end—
'What?' She tried to slow her breathing. 'You're staring at me because I've got a red face, aren't you?'
His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m staring at you because I've never seen you smile before.'
'Well, I'm having a nice time' Forgetting to be guarded, she glanced back at the dance floor regretfully. 'Do you think we could—?’
' No,' Sebastian drawled immediately, taking her hand and leading her to a vacant table with a prime view of the dance floor. 'We definitely couldn't I'm a man in need of a drink’
Alesia registered that her shoes were digging into her feet and plopped gratefully on to one of the chairs, wondering why this table was free when the rest of the club was heaving with people. She felt tired and just ridiculously happy. She was uncovering a whole new side to herself that she'd never even known existed. She'd always assumed that she wasn't like other girls. That she didn't enjoy partying, clothes or other 'girly' pursuits. But now she realized that she'd never actually been given a chance to experience those things. And the truth was she loved them. For the first time in her life she could be self-indulgent and just enjoy herself.
Sh
e was just wondering at exactly what point she dared suggest venturing back on the dance floor when the crowds pressing in on their table parted.
'Sebastien! You came!' A tall, slender woman wearing an indecently low-cut black dress shimmered up to their table, her glossy mouth curved into a predatory smile.
I’m so pleased.'
'Ariadne.' Sebastien rose to his feet and kissed the woman on both cheeks. 'You've surpassed yourself. I predict a massive success.'
The woman threw a satisfied glance at the heaving dance floor. 'Captivating, isn't it? And stylish. We're already having to restrict membership.' Her slim fingers curled possessively over his forearm, the scarlet nails gleaming like a warning. ‘I’m glad you came. I reserved you the best table.'
Sebastien's gaze fastened on those reddened lips and he smiled. Thanks.'
' I really need the benefit of your business brain.' Ariadne slid into the vacant seat next to him, not glancing once in Alesia's direction. 'We've come up against a couple of problems and I might need you to use your influence—' Ariadne's voice lowered and she leaned closer to Sebastien, her hand snaking around his strong neck, drawing his head towards her reddened lips ostensibly so that she could keep the conversation private.
Watching this interaction with frowning dismay, Alesia felt her newly discovered happiness drain out of her. It was quite clear that his relationship with this woman was far more intimate than simple friendship. Was she one of his mistresses? And, if so, past or current? The thought that he'd shared with other women what he'd shared with her made her feel physically ill. If she needed any more evidence that to him it was just sex then she had it now.
And, to make matters worse, the woman hadn't even glanced in her direction. It was as if she didn't exist.
Feeling as miserable as she had been happy only moments earlier, Alesia reached for the drink that had been placed by her hand and took several large mouthfuls.
She sat and drank, waiting to be included in the conversation, waiting for Sebastien to introduce her, but he lounged easily in the chair, his handsome face giving nothing away as he listened attentively to the woman who was all but wrapped around him in an attempt to exclude Alesia.
She couldn't help being aware of the curious stares being cast in her direction. It was hardly surprising that people were looking, she thought gloomily. They were supposed to be newly married and yet Sebastien had clearly forgotten her existence.
Ignored and abandoned, Alesia felt her temper begin to rise as she finished her drink.
Why should she sit there pretending to be invisible?
Too disgusted to watch them any longer and feeling unaccountably light-headed, she fixed her gaze back on the dance floor, feeling a stab of envy as she watched the dancing. On the dance floor she'd had fun. She'd lost herself in the moment. So why shouldn't she do so again? She held her breath, checking out the number of women dancing alone. There were plenty.
So why shouldn't she join them?
Without so much as a glance towards her companions, Alesia lifted her chin and stood up, clutching at the table for a moment to gain her balance and then walking purposefully on to the dance floor, looking neither left or right. If anyone was staring, she didn't want to know.
Once again the music slid into her soul and she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, feeling the rhythm flow over her and letting her body move in time. She spun and gyrated, her hair flying across her face, her arms above her head, her hips swaying.
After several minutes a tall blonde man joined her and it was so much fun to be dancing with someone again that she just smiled and matched her movements to his. Nothing mattered, she thought happily, except having fun right now.
She lowered her eyelashes in mute invitation, spun closer and then felt hard fingers digging into her shoulder, hauling her back in a gesture of pure masculine possession.
Caught off balance, she staggered and would have collapsed in a heap had not she been held firmly against rock-solid muscle. Dizzily she glanced upwards and clashed with stormy dark eyes shimmering with barely restrained anger. Keeping her clamped against him in an iron grip, Sebastien spoke in Greek to her dance partner and, although Alesia didn't understand a word of what he said, there was no misunderstanding his icy tone or the barely veiled threat in those midnight-black eyes. She frowned as the blond man cast a nervous glance at the width of Sebastien's shoulders and melted back into the crowd.
'What a wimp—' Alesia muttered with disdain. 'He might at least have stayed to finish the dance.'
'He had more sense’ Sebastien observed harshly, all the volatility of his Mediterranean heritage revealed in his glittering dark gaze. ' Which is more than can be said for you. We are in a public place and you are not supposed to be part of the entertainment. If you want to dance then you dance with me.'
She glared at him and tried to pull away. 'You were busy.'
Then you should have waited.'
'For what? For you to decide you'd had enough of that woman’
His eyes narrowed. 'That woman happens to be the owner of this club. She is the reason we came here tonight. She needed my advice.'
'Don't treat me as if I'm stupid,' Alesia advised hotly, stabbing a finger into his broad chest. 'She was all over you like wrapping paper. And if you're going to seduce other women in public then I'll dance with who I like.'
Sebastien's hand curled over hers. Every inch of her body was locked against his and the feel of his hard, muscular frame made her head spin with longing.
Oh, help—
'Flirt again,' he warned, his tone lethally soft, 'and you'll discover exactly what it's like to be married to a Greek man’
Heart thumping, knees shaking, Alesia stared at him helplessly and gave a tiny moan of self-disgust. How could she find this man so attractive? Trying to halt the insidious warmth that was spreading through her body, she made an attempt to pull away but he simply tightened his grip. Reminding herself that he'd just spent the best part of the evening stuck to another woman, Alesia gritted her teeth. ‘ I already know what it's like to be married to a Greek man, Sebastien. It's lonely and frustrating. You marry me, then you vanish for two weeks without telling me where you're going and then you take me out for an evening and proceed to flirt with someone else. I hate you.'
And what she hated most was the fact that she cared.
Colour streaked his magnificent cheekbones. ‘ I was not "flirting"’
'You were’ Alesia informed him unsteadily. ‘ Your eyes were all over her and she couldn't stop touching you and you forgot I was even there. Well, I refuse to be ignored! You chose to bring me here and then you were rude. And, what's more, everyone was watching.' Suddenly she felt horribly dizzy and clutched at him for support. 'And now I feel a bit sick.'
The breath hissed through his teeth and he muttered under his breath. 'Have you been drinking?'
She frowned, wondering why her head was swimming. ‘ I never drink.'
His mouth tightened. ‘ You downed most of your drink in one mouthful’
‘ I was thirsty’
‘Then you should have drunk water’ he suggested helpfully, holding her firmly when her legs would have given way. ‘For the record, alcohol is not the best thirst quencher.'
She leaned her forehead against his chest and wished the room would stop spinning. 'All I've drunk is the lemonade you gave me. I've probably just been twirled around too many times. That man was a very good dancer.'
‘ The drink was vodka with a dash of lemonade,' he said grimly, 'and I think you're not safe to be left for five minutes unattended. You're like a child at its first party.'
'And you're horrible,' she muttered, lifting her face to his, struggling to focus as she tried to remember exactly what it was that she hated about him. 'You do all those things to me in bed and then you just walk out and never say anything nice. Not one single thing. I just don't understand why women think you're so amazing. You don't make sense and
I can't keep up with you. And I don't think I can pretend to be the person you think I am any more. It's just exhausting.'
Sebastien stilled, every muscle in his powerful body suddenly tense as he focused all his attention on her. 'Run that past me again?'
There was something in his tone that rang alarm bells but her head was too fuzzy to work it all out. 'You never say anything nice to me when we're in bed—'
'Not that bit—the other bit.' Thick dark lashes swooped downwards, concealing his expression. The bit about not being able to pretend any more’
'Well, I'm not this stupid, brainless heiress and frankly it's a struggle to pretend that I am,' she muttered. 'I've never worn a designer dress in my life, I've never had time to party and you think I'm some sort of mammoth slut and yet I've never even—' She broke off and he raised a dark eyebrow in question.