What the Greek's Wife Needs

by Dani Collins

  Those other women hadn’t been Tanja. Their hair had been the wrong color. Their laughter too high-pitched or too husky, not the perfect balance of clear and throaty. They had talked about things that should have interested him, but failed to engage him intellectually. They’d projected small signals of receptivity, placing a hand on an arm or tilting a head with invitation, but he’d always been turned off, not on. He’d been aware of the opportunity, but something had stopped him from wanting to cross that line.

  Maybe his faithfulness to his marriage vows wasn’t about proving he was a better man than his father. Maybe he had imprinted on his wife like one of those animals that mated for life—like a wolf. Or a seahorse.

  That scared the hell out of him.

  Marriage was not a ticket to eternal happiness. He knew that. It was a shackle to another person’s whims and hurtful behaviors.

  Yes, he had let himself believe for five minutes that his own marriage could be different. Tanja had that effect on him. She made everything seem brighter and hotter and softer and sweeter. She was like a club drug—something he avoided because he didn’t like the crash landing back into reality.

  That’s how he’d come down from his marriage, by returning to Greece and discovering that, even in death, his father caused both him and his mother untold anguish.

  Leon had proceeded to do the same to his own wife. He’d failed to send the money, hurting Tanja and her whole family. He’d pulled back from her out of shame, grateful that she wasn’t striking back. A cold war was better than an active one.

  The minute he was back in her sphere, however, she had lobbed a grenade by naming him Illi’s father.

  Leon was still furious with her for putting his name on the paperwork without his consent. He’d been completely honest last night when he had told her he had never expected to be married with a baby. Family wasn’t something he understood well enough to imagine he could do it successfully. He was bound to do more damage than good, and he hated failure.

  On top of that, he was facing untold legal trouble and their clandestine, lusty, expiring marriage was tumbling into the public eye.

  Behind him, Georgiou was trying to forestall the worst of what might come out. He was interviewing Tanja, making notes on all the people on Istuval who might help with changing Illi’s paperwork and any who might threaten the process.

  Yet, when Leon heard Tanja ask, “How will our divorce affect all this?” he spun from the ruminations he’d been directing out the window overlooking the view off the stern and came back to rejoin them at the small conference table in his office.

  “We can’t divorce,” Leon said implacably, skin too tight because some force within him was pushing outward. “Not until Illi’s adoption is finalized. No one will authorize an adoption to a couple in the middle of a breakup.”

  “But we don’t know how long the adoption will take.” Tanja looked to Georgiou for guidance. “Do we?”

  Georgiou shook his head with regret. “A month? A year? We’ll need patience and diplomacy so the authorities on Istuval don’t make more of the irregularity than it deserves. Once they reissue the paperwork on their end, I imagine our government will be fairly accommodating.”

  “You mean mine.” Tanja shot a panicked look from Georgiou to Leon. “I’m taking Illi to Canada.” Her tone brooked no argument.

  As much as Leon had never wanted to be a father, the responsibility Tanja had thrust on him wasn’t one he took lightly. It was onerous, but not in the way he had always expected it to be, which confounded him. In fact, the idea of leaving the full weight of Illi’s future on Tanja felt downright wrong.

  “They won’t adopt her only to you. You need my name on there. For God’s sake, Tanja. Look what I can offer her. Take advantage,” he insisted.

  She might have balked, but Georgiou set aside his notepad and folded his hands on the table, drawing a breath as if he had something important to say.

  Georgiou had extricated Leon from several of the tight positions his father had left him in and had listened to the situation with Illi with equanimity, but looked very serious now.

  “I agree with Leon. My advice is that you take no steps toward divorce until the adoption is airtight. What we could do is negotiate a postnuptial agreement. It’s not much different from a prenup. Details will be negotiated with regards to support, division of property, and custody. That way, when the time comes, you can part amicably without any loose threads.”

  “Custody isn’t up for negotiation.” Fear of betrayal was lurking in Tanja’s eyes as she looked up at Leon. And something else. A mistrust that he had earned.

  The strangest clench wrapped around his lungs and squeezed, but he gave only a terse nod of agreement toward Georgiou. “Send a template. We’ll start working things out.”

  Tanja looked like she wanted to argue, but Georgiou rose and flexed his back.

  “Excellent.” Georgiou grimaced. “And please forgive me, Leon, but my wife will kill me if I don’t try to sell you a couple of tickets to her fundraiser next week. It’s an auction of modern art to benefit a children’s center in Athens.”

  “Of course,” Leon said. Buying a couple of plates for charity was expected whether he showed up to eat whatever was served upon it or not. “Will it help for Tanja and I to circulate in public? With Illi’s situation, I mean.”

  “It couldn’t hurt. The more happily married you appear, the better.”

  “Oh, but—” Tanja started to protest.

  “We’ll be there,” Leon confirmed, speaking over her. “Black tie?”

  “White.” Georgiou took out his phone. “I’ll have her send the details, and I’ll fetch Ester so we can finalize the press release.” He slipped out, closing the door behind him.

  “Hi. Remember me? Your wife?” Tanja asked tartly, rising to shake off her own tension. “I know you’re new to this parenting gig, but I’m guessing children aren’t invited to his wife’s bake sale. What do you suggest we do with Illi? Leave her in the coat check?”

  “Right. We need a nanny.” He texted that to his PA.

  “Leon.” He glanced up to find Tanja’s hands closed into fists, arms straight, chin lifted to a stubborn angle. “Illi has lost her entire family. Now she’s lost Kahina and the only other people who were familiar to her. She has me. I refuse to shuffle her onto a nanny.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” He bit back pointing out Illi had him, too. “The gala will be in a hotel. She’ll be upstairs asleep, not even missing you. Or playing with someone who is doting on her, same as she is right now.” The crew members were determined to spoil her silly. “Wouldn’t you prefer to have someone consistent sit with her when we have social obligations? We’ll have several.”

  “How many is ‘several’?” Her voice rose with panic. “I packed light for Istuval and packed even lighter when we left.”

  “The stylist will ensure you have everything you need.” He pointed to the door, reminding her of the woman who’d come aboard with garment bags and makeup cases.

  “She brought a handful of outfits for the photo shoot.” Tanja flung out a hand.

  “She’ll arrange more,” he said with equal exasperation. “It’s her job to source your wardrobe. I presumed you understood that.”

  “What will that cost? I don’t have a job, Leon!”

  “I don’t expect you to pay for it.” Seriously, how was she not getting this? “I will.”

  “No.”

  He threw his head back, insulted all over again. “Why not?”

  “I’m an accountant.” She was red faced and strident, hands cutting through the air with agitation. “All the debits and credits have to balance or I can’t sleep. I already feel like I’m in your debt for whatever Georgiou does on Illi’s behalf.”

  “Quantify it, then,” he shot back, losing patience. “Give me a number for the dama
ge I did to your family. Deduct the value of your freedom and Illi’s future well-being. When you have all of that calculated on a spreadsheet, we’ll sit down and decide whether or not you can accept a damned sundress.”

  “But it’s not just a sundress, is it?” she cried, not cowed in the least.

  “No. It isn’t,” he agreed just as forcefully. “It’s couture gowns and designer shoes. Jewelry. Spa visits if you want your toenails painted and handbags that go for five figures and are only big enough to carry a lipstick. I’m not telling you what to wear, Tanja, but you’re my wife. These aren’t gifts or bribes. These are the things you’ll need in the life we’ll be living. If we were going to the jungle, I’d buy you a mosquito net hat.”

  “But I’m not your wife!” She hugged herself defensively. “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Something fierce welled in him, something he couldn’t interpret and didn’t want to. It made him want to throw aside the long table between them and pull her close.

  “You are,” he asserted, speaking reflexively and straight from the center of himself. “Until it’s safe for Illi that we divorce, you and I are married.” He pointed at her. “And I’m going to do it right this time. I’ll provide what you both need.” That was not negotiable.

  “So you expect me to just...” Her hand waved helplessly, and her brows came together with consternation. She bit her lip, tucking her hand under her elbow again, asking warily, “What do you expect?”

  It struck him what she was asking and why she’d been so contrary for the last few minutes. It was a question that had been dancing around in his head while he avoided answering it himself. The way they were crossing swords right now told him the crackling heat between them wasn’t going away. Hell, their midnight encounter had telegraphed that message loud and clear.

  He drew a long drink of oxygen, trying to feed his lizard brain so it didn’t take over and make him say or do something stupid. Somehow he had to remain civilized when what he wanted was purely instinctual.

  “Given the way we both reacted last night,” he said carefully, “I suggest we resume marital activities.” His voice originated somewhere in the base of his chest, and heat detonated below his belt just thinking of what that might entail.

  “Marital activities,” she repeated in an astonished huff. A pink flush hit her cheeks, though. Pretty and shy and deeply aware.

  Her flickering gaze was avoiding his, but he could see the latent sensations were teasing her, same as they were him. All he’d been thinking about since Illi interrupted them was that he wanted to crush Tanja close and celebrate her and be inside her.

  “What do you expect?” he asked gruffly.

  “I don’t know what to expect from you!” Her anger resurfaced in a frustrated pang that caused a twist in his chest. “One minute you’re so sweet with Illi and acting like a superhero, rescuing me and getting me a doctor. It makes me think I was right to be so enamored with you five years ago. Then you’re ordering me to stay married and wear high heels to gala luncheons and resume having sex.”

  “I will never order you to have sex. Tell me you know that,” he growled. “It’s pretty damned insulting if you don’t.”

  Her mouth quirked in concession. “I do, but you’re still expecting a lot.”

  “Oh, like fatherhood?”

  She stared flatly at him, refusing to engage on that one.

  “Am I really expecting that much? It’s dating, Tanja. Dinner and dancing and cocktail parties. Things we should have done rather than jump into marriage. What part of that bothers you? You’ve never been shy with strangers, so don’t act like talking to people is a chore.”

  “I schmoozed my father’s customers, asked them where they’d been and where they were going. That doesn’t mean I know how to talk about history or modern art.” She looked to her nails. “You didn’t find me that interesting or you would have stuck around.”

  “Tanja.”

  “I don’t want to be this insecure,” she blurted, fist punching the air beside her thigh again. “I don’t want to go back to thinking I’m less than you are.”

  He snapped his head back. “Why did you ever? You’re not.”

  “I don’t have this, Leon!” She threw her arm out to encompass the yacht. “I didn’t have anything you wanted enough to bring you back to resume our marriage. The only thing I can give you now is a divorce and I can’t even give you that! So what do I have that you want? Except...” Her wary, limpid eyes sent a sabre straight into his heart.

  “Be very careful what you say next.” He flattened his hands on the table, more incensed than he’d ever thought someone could make him. “Because sex has never been a transaction for me. I will not turn it into one with my wife.”

  “What would it be then?” Her shoulders rose and fell, arms flailing helplessly. “Because we’re only pretending we’re married—”

  “We are married.”

  “We’re going to pretend that we’re staying married and—”

  “And act like any other couple who is married. Why not?”

  “Because the only people I’ve ever slept with have been men I had feelings for. Men I thought had feelings for me.” She jabbed a finger at him. “And you don’t.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  LEON DIDN’T GET a chance to respond to that. There was a knock and Georgiou let himself in with his PR manager, Ester. Their amiable smiles died as they hit the wall of tension between her and Leon.

  “Should we come back?” Ester asked, looking between them.

  “No. We have to get the press release hammered out,” Leon said grimly.

  Tanja sat back down, body buzzing with adrenaline. With the idea of having sex with him. Was it what she wanted? Yes. On a strictly physical basis, she absolutely did want to finish what they’d started last night.

  Emotionally, she didn’t know if she could withhold enough of herself to walk away unscathed afterward. They called it “making love” for a reason. She knew herself well enough to know she would fall in love with him. She’d done what she could to dismiss and deny how badly he’d hurt her when he left, but she’d been crushed.

  “Tanja?”

  She was yanked out of her reverie by Leon’s voice. His expression was inscrutable.

  “Do you agree?”

  Ugh. She’d completely missed everything that had been said and had to beg Ester to repeat it. A few minutes later, they had settled on a statement that she and Leon had married years ago in Canada. They had separated when he returned to Greece and recently reconciled. They were on a second honeymoon, enjoying the family they had started together.

  The truth of how their daughter had come into their lives wasn’t addressed. The announcement was very short on details, very tall on fairy-tale ending.

  Tanja was put in a pretty wrap dress with a tropical print. Her hair was left loose and windswept while subtle makeup enhanced her features. They were photographed in casual settings around the yacht, some with Illi, some with just her and Leon.

  They were standing against the rail in the bow, the sun setting behind them, when he touched her chin. She lifted her gaze, and all her turmoil got tangled up with the inscrutable emotions in his eyes.

  As she read lust and remorse and something bright and fierce and possessive, her heart juddered to a stop in her chest. His thumb grazed her lips once, twice. Then he dipped his head and pressed the most tender kiss imaginable onto her mouth.

  Last night’s passion flared anew, blue with confusion in its center, but twisting a coiled flame of wistful longing and sparkling with the embers of dreams she’d believed were nothing but smoke and ash.

  She curled her hand around his hard, flat wrist, losing herself to the sensation of his lips traveling over hers, turning a simple kiss into an exploration. A journey from regret to reconciliation.

  How could a man kiss
like this and feel none of the things that were swelling within her to the point of causing a deep, anguished ache?

  His hand slid down to her neck and he slowly withdrew. Could he feel the way her pulse was pounding against the heel of his palm?

  “That’s beautiful,” she heard from her right. She ducked her head. She’d forgotten they were under scrutiny and was mortified by all she must have let show nakedly on her face.

  “That’s enough,” Leon said with an abrupt edge in his tone, cutting short the photography session with a jerk of his head.

  When Tanja would have broken away from him, his arms hardened, keeping her in his embrace an extra second while he searched her expression. She set her hand on his chest and looked to the water, trying to compose herself.

  But she felt his heart racing beneath the layers of muscle and bone, calling to her to stay close. Share in the tumult.

  “Let’s get them on their way,” he said. “Then we can have a quiet dinner and talk.”

  * * *

  It didn’t work out that way. They had just said their goodbyes when Leon’s mother texted. “I have to call her, prepare her for what to expect. You should touch base with your family. Let them know you’ll be staying for the near future.”

  Before she could decide whether she wanted to protest his decree, Leon asked Kyle to fetch her a phone. Ten minutes later, she had unwrapped a brand-new smartphone, logged into her account and had her father on a video chat. It was so good to see him!

  She didn’t see Leon until she had put Illi down for the evening and was in the jet tub outside Leon’s stateroom. He came out with a distracted, irritable look on his face.

  “I hope you don’t mind. Kyle found me a bathing suit.” She self-consciously touched the halter strap of the neon pink bikini she wore, then pointed at the little device on the ledge. “And a baby monitor. He’s like a genie. Why are you paying Georgiou to sort out our problems? Just ask Kyle to twitch his nose.”

  “Kyle’s powers do not extend beyond the yacht.” He began stripping down.