The Greek Bridegroom

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘Would you like me to stay over tonight?’

  Shocked surprise widened her eyes. ‘No, of course not.’

  A gleam of humour lit his gaze. ‘I imagine you have a spare bedroom.’

  She did, but she didn’t intend for him to occupy it tonight or any other night. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  Would she? Somehow he doubted she’d sleep easily.

  ‘Only a fool blames another for his own inadequacies.’ The words slipped quietly from his lips, and when she didn’t answer, he smoothed his palm along the edge of her cheek. ‘And it would take an incompetent fool to allude to a woman’s frigidity.’ He waited a beat. ‘Especially when the woman is you.’

  He wanted to show her how it could be between a man and a woman, watch as she came alive beneath his touch. To kiss and caress every inch of her, awaken each nerve-end, and be aware only of him. Malleable, mindless, his.

  Except he wanted her with him, mind, body and soul. Not on edge with nervous tension, or emotionally shaken.

  ‘I think you should leave.’ She just wanted to be alone, secure within these four walls, where she could sink into the hot tub, then pull on a robe, view television for an hour before slipping into bed.

  ‘Not yet,’ Jace said quietly. Not until she’d regained some colour and her eyes didn’t resemble huge pools mirroring a mixture of hurt and shame.

  ‘We were going to have coffee.’ A return to the prosaic was the wisest course, and he moved round her, collected the carafe from the coffee-maker and filled it with water.

  Rebekah collected her shattered thoughts together and crossed to extract coffee mugs from a cupboard, coffee beans, a fresh filter, and set it all in place.

  The automatic movements helped, and within minutes they faced each other across the table as they sipped aromatic coffee.

  ‘Tell me what it was like for you as a child.’

  She recognised his diversionary tactic, and cast him a level glance. ‘The usual things that shape most children’s lives. Love and laughter, a few tears, happy family, school. My mother died a few years ago. Dad has very recently taken a new job in New York.’

  ‘You and Ana are very close.’ It was a statement based on his own observation, and her gaze softened.

  ‘We’re best friends as well as business partners.’

  It was difficult to look at him and not be startlingly aware of the way it had felt to be in his arms, his touch, the intensity of his kiss, and the way he’d been able to transport her to a place where sheer sensation ruled.

  There was a part of her that wanted to be taken there again. By him, only him. Just thinking of Jace as a lover brought a flood of heat to her body, and yet instinct warned if she allowed him into her life she’d never be the same again.

  Was it worth the risk? Not if she wanted to survive emotionally. This man would invade her senses, her heart, and forever leave his mark.

  ‘You haven’t mentioned your marriage.’

  The sound of his accented drawl brought her back to the present with a sudden jolt, and she tightened her grip on the coffee mug.

  ‘What do you want to hear? That I was courted by a man for several months, engaged to him for a year, and in all that time I had no inkling a few hours after the wedding he’d turn into an abusive monster?’

  He was silent for several long seconds as he held her gaze. ‘It must have been hell to deal with.’

  And then some. ‘And you, Jace? No skeletons in your cupboard?’

  ‘A few regrets.’ Everyone had some. ‘None of any consequence.’

  He wanted to ease the pain he glimpsed in her eyes, but knew she’d deny him if he did. Instead, he drained his coffee, then stood to his feet.

  ‘Time for me to call it a night.’ He took his mug into the kitchen and put it in the sink, then he preceded her to the door.

  Rebekah caught up her keys and followed him. ‘I’ll drive you back to the hotel.’

  ‘I’ll call a cab from the downstairs lobby.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  He turned towards her and pressed a finger to her lips, then he lowered his head and brushed his mouth to her temple. ‘I’ll phone tomorrow.’

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already walking towards the bank of lifts, and she waited there until the lift doors opened. Then she retreated into the apartment, locked up, set the alarm, and headed for the hot tub.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘HAS Brad been bothering you again?’

  Rebekah caught the fierce sisterly concern in Ana’s voice, and tried to diffuse a potentially sensitive subject. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘This is me, remember? And I don’t fool easily. So spill it.’

  Suzie was on a lunch break, and they were alone in the shop.

  Rebekah refrained from prevaricating, but she kept it simple. ‘You know the score. Every now and again Brad decides to ride the nuisance wagon. So I changed my silent number to minimise the hassle.’

  ‘Uh-huh. This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact you’ve been seeing Jace?’

  It was a rhetorical question, and they both knew it.

  ‘I’m not seeing Jace,’ she refuted, paying far more attention than necessary to the bouquet she was assembling.

  ‘OK, we won’t go there just now.’ Ana’s gaze held a degree of anxiety. ‘Watch your back, Rebekah,’ she warned gently. ‘Brad is a loose cannon just waiting to explode.’

  She controlled the shaky sensation that threatened to visibly exert itself, and met her sister’s gaze.

  ‘I’m doing everything I’ve been legally advised to do,’ she assured quietly. ‘It’s been two years since the divorce. I’m entitled to a life of my own.’

  Ana’s expression softened. ‘Brava. You, more than most.’ There were assurances she wanted to reiterate, but she wisely held her counsel. ‘Promise you’ll phone me at the slightest hint of a problem. OK?’

  Rebekah offered a wry smile. ‘Want me to write it in blood?’

  The phone rang, and Ana picked up, intoned the customary greeting, conversed for a few minutes, then held out the cordless receiver. ‘For you. Jace.’

  ‘Hi. How are you?’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’ His voice was low and husky, almost intimate, and she barely controlled the spiralling sensation deep within.

  ‘How was the flight? Cairns?’

  ‘Fine. Better if you were with me.’

  The breath stopped in her throat. ‘I have to go, we’re really busy.’

  She thought she heard his faint chuckle. ‘Take care, Rebekah. I’ll call you on your cellphone tonight.’

  Rebekah handed the cordless receiver to Ana with a lift of her eyebrows. ‘Nothing to say?’

  ‘And risk having you jump down my throat?’ There was humour in her voice, and her eyes danced with silent mischief. ‘No way.’

  The afternoon was busy, so much so it was almost seven when Rebekah locked up shop and slid into the van. She planned a shower, then she’d fix a steak salad and eat it with a fresh, crunchy bread roll she’d picked up from the bakery, maybe watch a video she’d rented out.

  Summer was definitely on its way, for the days were becoming warmer, she perceived as she swung the van into the driveway leading down to the apartment underground car park.

  It took only seconds to insert her key and have the security grille lift to allow her entry, and she eased into her allotted parking bay, cut the engine and gathered her shoulder bag, the leather briefcase with the day’s computer print-outs, then she slid from the van and began walking towards the lift.

  ‘Think you’re pretty smart, dating another man, don’t you?’

  Rebekah froze, caught in the grip of fear as Brad stepped out from behind a concrete pillar. Calm, she had to remain calm. Try logic, a silent voice screamed.

  ‘How did you get in here?’

  ‘Use your imagination.’

  He was taller, bigger than her, and she recognised the hard glitter in those
pale grey eyes, the cruel tilt of his mouth.

  Instinct had her gauging the distance to the lift well.

  ‘Forget it,’ Brad advised harshly. ‘You’ll never make it.’

  The van…if only she could lock herself in there, she’d be safe. Except she’d locked the door, and by the time she reached it, inserted the key, he’d have caught her.

  OK, if she couldn’t escape, she had two options. Talk first; if that failed, fight.

  ‘I can’t think of anything we have to discuss.’

  ‘Wrong, baby.’

  She hated his smile, it hid pure venom. ‘If I don’t ring my sister within five minutes, she’ll call the police.’

  He recognised her bluff. ‘So—call her.’

  Rebekah slid open the zip fastening her bag, felt for and found the small canister, then she palmed it as she withdrew her hand, aimed and pressed the spray button.

  The mace hit him in the face, and his howl of pain was animal-like in its rage.

  Rebekah didn’t hesitate, she ran to the lift, hit and held down the button…and prayed. If only she could get inside, she’d be safe.

  Oh, come on, she begged, agonising if she’d have been wiser to have sought the van and locked herself in. At least she could have used her cellphone to call for help.

  There was a faint electronic whine heralding the lift’s descent, and she felt her heart thud in her chest as she counted off the seconds to its arrival.

  She could hear Brad swearing, his voice rising to a raging crescendo, and then she didn’t care any more as the lift doors swung open and she raced inside the cubicle, pushed the seventh-floor button, only to see Brad put his arm between the closing doors.

  A scream left her throat, and she stabbed the close doors button. To little avail. His strength was accelerated by rage, and she batted his hands with the briefcase, drawing blood.

  Fear drove her, and for a few seconds she thought she’d won. Except one herculean burst of strength on Brad’s part pushed the doors open sufficiently for him to squeeze through.

  She still had the can of mace in her hand, and she used it mercilessly before he had a chance to bring the lift to a stop mid-floor.

  The cubicle wasn’t large, and even blinded by the stinging mace Brad roared with rage as he lurched, arms spread wide, circling as she strove to evade him in the confined space.

  Her only hope was to escape as soon as the lift stopped at the seventh floor, and she quickly identified her apartment key on its keyring, and held it poised in readiness.

  There was nowhere to hide, and the timing proved lousy as Brad’s hand groped her shoulder, then closed over it with steel-like strength.

  A random punch slammed into her ribs, quickly followed by another to her upper arm.

  At that moment the lift drew to a halt, and he dragged her out into the foyer.

  ‘Where’s your damned key?’

  She’d die before she willingly gave it to him, and she wrestled with him, taking a cracking slap to the side of her face.

  ‘Give it to me, bitch!’

  Rebekah swung the briefcase at him and he wrenched it from her grasp, then tackled and knocked her to the floor.

  In one desperate move she tossed the keys as hard as she could, uncaring where they landed as long as he couldn’t find them.

  She heard them hit something with a resounding clunk, felt the bruising grip of Brad’s fingers on her flesh, then a loud voice demanding,

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ Followed by, ‘Rebekah? George, get out here!’

  There was noise, voices, the sound of scuffling, then mercifully she was free, and hands were soothing her, Maisie, her neighbour, was issuing instructions like a nursing sister-in-charge, her chosen vocation. And her partner, George, an ex-wrestler with a body that was all muscle, held Brad in a bone-crunching grip.

  Maisie called the police, helped Rebekah into her apartment, called a doctor, then she collected her camera and took photos for evidence.

  Rebekah didn’t argue, although she was sufficiently familiar with police procedure to know they’d do the same.

  When they came, she gave a statement, which had to be typed up and signed at the police station within the next twenty-four hours. The doctor arrived and examined her, dressed a few abrasions, suggested ice-packs for the bruising, and gave her a sedative to take to help her sleep.

  Maisie fussed over her, plying her with water and painkillers.

  ‘Is there someone I should call? Your sister, brother-in-law?’

  ‘I’ll do it later.’

  Maisie looked doubtful. ‘You really should have someone stay with you tonight. Or you should go to your sister’s place.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Sure you will. You’re as pale as a ghost, and as cold as charity.’ She gave a derisive snort. ‘If I had anything to do with it, you’d be in hospital overnight.’

  Rebekah tried for a smile and didn’t quite make it. ‘I promise I’ll ring Ana the moment you leave.’

  ‘Hmm. Why don’t you go take a shower, and I’ll rustle up something light for you to eat?’ She held up her hand. ‘I’ll be offended if you refuse.’

  It was easier to capitulate. ‘Thanks.’

  She stayed beneath the hot spray for a while, then, towelled dry, she donned jeans, added a cotton top, and emerged into the kitchen to discover her neighbour removing a plate of delicious-smelling goulash with rice.

  ‘Your sister rang while you were in the shower.’

  Rebekah knew the answer even before she posed the question. ‘You told her?’

  ‘She had to know. She’s on her way over.’ Maisie indicated the plate which she set down on the dining-room table. ‘Sit and eat.’

  ‘Yes, Mother.’

  ‘I could be, if I’d been a child bride.’ She tried to look fierce. ‘You need someone to look after you.’

  ‘I have you and George just across the hall.’ She took a mouthful of food and closed her eyes at the taste. ‘I know why George married you.’

  ‘Don’t change the subject. You need a man in your life.’

  ‘I had one, and look at the way that turned out.’

  ‘A real man, one who’ll take care of you.’

  ‘Perhaps I’m content taking care of myself?’

  Maisie gave another snort, and filled the kettle to make tea.

  In no time at all the intercom buzzed, and Rebekah threw her neighbour a wry glance. ‘The cavalry have arrived.’

  Ana and Luc? There were hugs, expressions of concern, reassurances given, and decisions made.

  ‘You’re coming back with us,’ Ana said firmly. ‘And if you argue, I’ll hit you.’

  ‘I rather think she’s had more than her fair share of that, agape mou,’ Luc chided gently, and watched his wife’s face crease with remorse.

  ‘I didn’t mean— Oh, God, Rebekah,’ Ana groaned out loud.

  ‘I know, you just love me to death, is all.’

  Rebekah’s cellphone pealed, and Luc moved to retrieve it from the coffee-table, where Maisie had placed everything that had spilled from her bag.

  ‘I’ll take it, shall I?’ He picked up, and moved to one side of the room. His conversation was muted and spanned several minutes, then he retraced his steps and handed her the unit. ‘Jace.’

  She closed her eyes, then she opened them again and voiced a restrained greeting into the mouthpiece.

  ‘Rebekah—’

  Even from a distance she could sense the quiet anger beneath the surface of his control. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘And daisies grow upside-down in the ground.’ His voice held an edge she couldn’t define. ‘Give me your word you’ll stay with Luc and Ana for a few days.’

  She almost said she’d suffered worse than this. ‘Tonight,’ she conceded, and heard him mutter something unintelligible. Suddenly she’d had enough, and there wasn’t another thing she wanted to hear…much less from a man who’d caused her more emotional highs and lows in one s
hort week than anyone she’d ever known. ‘Goodnight.’

  Maisie took care of her plate, Ana fed Millie and put down fresh water, while Rebekah gathered up a change of clothes, a few essentials and pushed them into an overnight bag.

  Luc crossed to her side as she re-entered the kitchen. ‘Ready?’

  She inclined her head, thanked Maisie, gave Millie a gentle pat, then she followed everyone out into the lobby while Luc locked up.

  Ana sat in the back seat of the Mercedes and caught hold of Rebekah’s hand as Luc drove to their palatial home in suburban Vaucluse.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  ‘Not particularly.’ There was little point in rehashing it.

  Ana’s fingers tightened, and her voice held an uncustomary hardness. ‘This isn’t going to happen again.’

  It was nice, Rebekah had to admit, to be taken care of. Luc and Ana’s home was an architectural masterpiece set in beautiful grounds high on a hill with splendid views out over the harbour.

  Petros, their politically correct manservant, fussed over her as if she were a precious piece of china. Within minutes of arrival he prepared tea and exquisite bite-size sandwiches.

  Luc joined them for a while, then at a telling glance from his wife he excused himself on the pretext of dealing with business email. He brushed a light kiss to Ana’s cheek, then crossed to gift Rebekah a similar salutation and departed the room.

  Rebekah allowed Petros to refill her cup, and declined anything further to eat.

  Ana waited only long enough for the manservant to wheel the tea-trolley from the room before leaning forward in her chair.

  ‘Tell me exactly what happened,’ she insisted sternly. ‘And don’t leave anything out.’

  Reliving the episode was emotionally draining, although it helped her deal with it.

  ‘The bastard,’ Ana derided huskily when Rebekah finished. ‘Luc and Jace will ensure he never comes near you again.’

  Hang on a minute… ‘Jace? What does Jace have to do with it?’ She drew in a deep breath in the hope of assembling a sense of calm. ‘While I appreciate Luc’s help, I’m quite able to take care of everything myself.’

  ‘It’s done,’ Ana said simply. ‘And you can stop with the fierce expression.’