What the Greek's Wife Needs

by Dani Collins

  Tanja was measured and pinned and soon turned out in a blue-and-white-striped sundress that she adored on sight—it buttoned down the front and had big patch pockets. But she had no time to browse the rest of the clothes. The health nurse arrived.

  Tanja assured the woman she was recovering nicely but was given iron pills, and the chef was instructed on her nutritional needs.

  The nurse left and Tanja was promptly served a protein smoothie and dense cookies filled with dates and nuts. Then the potential nanny arrived. Leon surprised her by joining her. He asked questions Tanja wouldn’t have thought to ask, like how flexible the young woman was to travel and, “Can you start tonight?”

  “I brought a bag in case you needed me right now,” Britta said with a warm smile.

  “Excellent.” Leon looked to Tanja as she snapped a glare at him. “What? You’ll be tied up getting ready.”

  “For what?” she asked with beleaguered panic.

  “Dinner with my mother.”

  “That’s tonight? I thought—” She didn’t know what she had thought. She sagged into the sofa, stricken at how quickly things were spinning beyond her control.

  “Will you take these to the kitchen, please?” Leon nodded at the empty dishes, dismissing the nanny. “Don’t look so anxious,” he chided Tanja. “Mother’s apartment is two floors down.”

  “Then why don’t we bring Illi? Doesn’t she want to meet her?”

  Something hardened in Leon’s expression. “Let the nanny get her feet wet. This will ease you into trusting her, if you know you can come back up if it’s not working.”

  True. She sighed her agreement, saying absently, “I didn’t realize your mother owns an apartment in this building, too.” It seemed odd that she hadn’t come up to greet them. Had Leon invited her?

  “I own the building,” he said very casually, as though it was a totally normal thing for a person to say. “My mother prefers the island and travels a lot, but she stays here when she’s in Athens. Tell the stylist semiformal for dinner. I’ll shower and change into a suit.”

  Tanja’s heart lurched again as his outrageous level of wealth hit her. No wonder he had assumed she’d married him for his money. What a bumpkin he must have thought her with her sundress from the farmers market and her discount sandals.

  She heard Illi on the monitor and fetched her to introduce her to Britta. They warmed to each other immediately, which was reassuring.

  Tanja had to put her trust in the stylist as much as the nanny, accepting the silver-blue satin dress she picked out. It was deceptively simple with a deep V-neck and sleeves that went to her elbows. The bodice hugged her braless breasts and a wide band accentuated her narrow waist. The skirt was a voluminous A-line that ended midshin, perfectly showcasing a flashy shoe with crystal-encrusted heels. Thankfully, they were closed toe, because she was desperately in need of a pedicure.

  “Tomorrow,” her stylist promised her, sweeping Tanja’s hair off one ear with a spangled clip.

  Tanja nervously joined Leon in the lounge. It struck her that they’d never been on a proper date. They’d gone out on his yacht, and eaten barbecue with her family, picked up lunch for a hike, but they’d never put on their best clothes and gone out in public.

  “I feel overdressed for dinner,” she murmured to announce her presence.

  He turned and stood arrested with a glass halfway to his mouth. After his gaze went to her ankles and came back, he finished his drink in one gulp.

  “You look perfect. This is for you, too.” He picked up a velvet ring box off a side table and brought it to her.

  “That’s not necessary. I have my wedding band,” she stammered, glancing toward the bedrooms. “It’s in my bag. I was going to trade it for groceries at one point, but—”

  “You should have.” His jaw hardened. “Why didn’t you?”

  “I wasn’t sure of the protocol,” she said with a humorless chuckle. “Like, I know you’re supposed to return the engagement ring if you’re the one who calls it off, but are you supposed to give back the wedding band if you ask for a divorce?”

  “I don’t know, but they’re both gifts. Do what you like with them.” He spoke firmly. “Sell this one tomorrow if you want to.” He opened the box and her knees grew weak.

  This was not the simple gold wedding band she had worn for a few months, then yanked off in a fit of pique. This was a platinum band with five emerald-cut diamonds set in a glittering row. It had to be worth five figures, maybe six.

  “Leon,” she said in a muted beg for understanding. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what? Wear it or not. It’s yours.” He was speaking so abruptly, each word hit like little pebbles against her skin. “Or exchange it for something you like better.”

  “Of course, I like it. It’s stunning. But...” She frowned with consternation, trying to make him see that wearing his ring meant something. Didn’t it? “Is wearing it like wearing this?” She fluffed the fall of her skirt, and even that small action felt like blowing air against a scraped knee. “Part of the costume?”

  His head jerked back.

  “Because—” She was struggling to find words that wouldn’t reveal how much she was tripping over her own insecurity and involuntary expectations. “I mean, I’ll wear it if you want me to, so people don’t ask awkward questions, but it’s important to me that you know I don’t expect any of this. I’m not here for dresses and jewelry.” And all those other things he insisted he wanted to give her because she was his wife.

  Was he compensating because he wasn’t capable of offering himself? That struck her as heartbreakingly sad for both of them.

  “I know why you’re here.” His voice held an edge. “If I could make Illi yours as easily as I can provide a dress or a ring, I would. For now, this is how we make that happen.”

  By playing the happy couple.

  That’s all this ring was. Window dressing. A means to an end.

  With an ache behind her sternum, she put it on.

  * * *

  The ring looked a bit loose, but Tanja needed to gain a few pounds. It would fit perfectly in a few weeks. Would she still be here then?

  Leon refused to think about that.

  It bothered him that she’d been so reluctant to accept it even though he’d been perfectly honest in saying he didn’t care what she did with it. Okay, that was a small lie. He damned well expected her to sell it for food or anything else she might need if she was ever in dire straits again—not that he intended to let that happen.

  He’d given the ring to her for her future security and because his mother would expect his wife to wear a ring of a certain quality. He told himself he wasn’t attached to either ring or wife beyond recognizing they each held their own type of value and deserved his protection.

  But he was inexplicably pleased to see the diamonds flash on her hand as they entered the elevator. He looked into the mirrored wall that reflected infinite versions of his pale gray suit and her silver-blue dress. Her fiery hair and cinnamon freckles stood out like sparking flames. A swell of pride filled him.

  “You look stunning.”

  She relaxed into a natural smile for the first time since this morning and might have turned into his arms if the elevator hadn’t stopped with a muted ping.

  For half a moment, he’d forgotten where they were going. Now a clammy blanket descended on him. His mother. If he could have kept Tanja away from this, he would have. It was his greatest shame that he didn’t come from a family like hers. If there was a silver lining to bringing her here now, it was that she would never have to meet his father—this would be excruciating enough. His mother would be...

  Well, she would hurt Tanja without even trying. Because that’s what she did.

  Tanja’s expression fell into the stoic one that had overtaken his own face. He clasped her hand and guided her do
wn the hall to double doors that let into his mother’s foyer.

  His mother’s living space was laid out much as his own, but there were two units on this floor, so hers was smaller with only two bedrooms and didn’t have a pool. His mother had a more feminine decor and classic art pieces of fruit bowls and landscapes rather than the modern abstracts he preferred.

  Truthfully, Leon gravitated to whatever was the opposite of what he’d grown up with.

  “Leon.” His mother guarded her appearance scrupulously. She was trim and should have developed more frown and worry lines, given how intimidated and angry she’d been for many of her sixty-two years. She wore a silk coat dress with a popped collar and broke from a small group of equally well-dressed guests to approach them.

  Leon grimly surveyed the number of people she’d invited. He had thought they’d been invited for dinner, not a dinner party.

  Tanja’s hand tightened in his. Maybe she was reacting to his own firming grip. As his mother approached, his hackles rose out of instinctive protectiveness.

  Tanja smiled with her natural appealing openness even as her gaze flickered to the crowd that was staring. Her smile barely faltered, though.

  “Mother, my wife Tanja. Tanja, my mother, Ophelia.”

  “It’s lovely to meet you.” Tanja dropped his hand and automatically extended her arms for an embrace. Of course, she did. That’s how she was with family, and his mother was now a member.

  His stomach cramped as Ophelia neatly caught her hands and pressed them down into the space between them. She kept her arms straight and firm, holding Tanja off from closing the distance. Her smile tightened.

  Tanja took it as the rebuff it was. Leon knew she did because he saw the flinch that she quickly stifled, reinvigorating her smile to hide it.

  He mentally willed an invisible, bulletproof box to lower itself over her to keep her from the death by a thousand cuts that had shredded him his whole life.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, too, after all this time,” his mother was saying, almost sounding sincere despite the way she had scorned Tanja’s warmth. “Welcome to the family. Ah, Cornelius.” She let go of Tanja and twined her hands around the arm of a heavyset older man Leon had met a few times. They exchanged nods. “Cornelius, this is my daughter-in-law, Tanja. Come. Let us introduce you to everyone.”

  They made the rounds. Leon stayed close, but Tanja quickly began to look less like herself. Her smiles became forced. Her cheeks grew pale, her responses careful. Was she feeling sick again? Or was she hating this as much as he was?

  “Did I hear you’re a model, Tanja?” someone asked.

  “A CPA. In Canada, that stands for chartered professional accountant,” she explained to all the faces that went blank. “I articled at a firm that serves hotels and other tourism-related businesses on Vancouver Island.”

  A man laughed, then abruptly sobered. “Oh, you’re serious.”

  “Yes.” She looked from face to face. “Why is that funny?”

  “Well, it’s just...” One of the women looked between them. “I mean, you work? Why?” She seemed genuinely perplexed. “You’re married.”

  Leon drew a tested breath.

  “She just had a daughter,” his mother reminded. “Tanja isn’t working right now.”

  “Oh, of course. Well done on getting your figure back.”

  His mother smoothly shifted them along to the next group, saving Leon from having to blister the ears of a stranger. He loosely encircled Tanja’s wrist and felt the way her pulse was racing. Her gaze was darting like a mouse seeking a safe path through a roomful of cats. He wove their fingers together and tried to convey that he would keep her safe.

  She brightened slightly as she was asked where she was from.

  “Tofino,” she replied with obvious fondness. “It’s a small fishing and whale-watching town on the West Coast of Canada.”

  “Oh, yes. We stopped there once when we were sailing. A bohemian little place,” one woman told the rest of the group. “Pretty enough to visit, but I can’t imagine growing up there.” She gave a small shudder.

  “Greta,” Leon warned the woman against being so rude.

  “Many of my friends couldn’t wait to get away,” Tanja said with forced lightness. “It’s a place you don’t appreciate until you no longer have it. Will you excuse me a moment?” She extricated her fingers from his. “I want to call the nanny. Make sure everything is going well.”

  * * *

  Tanja was so far out of her depth she was hyperventilating. Drowning.

  Leaving.

  “Tanja.” Leon was right behind her as she reached the threshold.

  “I can’t do this,” she said in subdued panic.

  “It shouldn’t have been this.” He shot an impatient look back to the party. “But it’s only a few hours.”

  “This.” She waved between them. “I can’t believe I thought I could even pretend to be your wife—”

  He caught her hand as comprehension flared in his eyes. His mouth firmed and he pushed her into a powder room, closing the door on them.

  Tanja had a brief impression of ivory wallpaper with silver stripes and roses, gold fixtures and burning candles that gave off a scent of bergamot and lavender, then Leon was all that was in her senses. Tall and intimidating, broad and commanding.

  “What happened? What did she say?” His tone nearly took out her knees.

  “Nothing! It’s all of this.” She waved a hand toward the rooms they’d left and the one they were in. “I mean, I knew I wasn’t in your league when we first got together. That’s why I expected it to be an affair. And I get it now, why you left me, but I thought I could at least pretend we’re happily married for Illi’s sake. I just feel like such an idiot, though. Such a milkmaid to your—”

  “Stop it.” He caught her elbow, stilling her flailing gestures, not hurting but firm. Forcing her to look at him and pay attention.

  * * *

  He was the one who wasn’t paying attention!

  “I don’t fit in, Leon.” She tried to shake off his grip as though she could shake reality into him. “I’ll do anything for Illi, but I can’t act like I belong here.” Hot tears of despair hit the backs of her eyes. “No one is going to believe you want me.”

  “I do want you. Exactly as you are.” A fierce light flared to life behind his gaze as he drew her into him with a small crash of their bodies. “You know that.”

  “How?”

  “It doesn’t matter how. It just is. Feel it.” His mouth burned across hers in one hot sweep, then another. “It’s here. It’s always been here,” he muttered between kisses that tasted of anger, but not a kind that was directed at her. His hands were gentle but hard. Imperative. “It has to be you.”

  Her heart fell, and she tried to find emotional purchase on unsteady ground, but there was none. All of her felt unbalanced.

  Helplessly, she clung to him. Slipped her arms beneath the open edges of his suit jacket, curling them around his waist while he pulled her in for a deeper, longer, harder kiss. One that took and gave and was so rife with layers of emotion, it softened her knees.

  Amid the taste of anguish and desperation, yearning and his irrepressible will, physical craving crept in, making each kiss last longer. Flow deeper. Their hands roamed in anxious apology and hunger to connect, rebuilding the tenuous threads that bound them.

  She slid her hand down to cup him through his trousers. He was hard and hissed under her exploring touch.

  “Do you want me to...?” She glanced toward the door as her fingers sought the tab on his fly.

  “I want you,” he growled, reaching back to click the lock. “Isn’t that obvious?” He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and set a condom next to the sink.

  She widened her eyes, unable to hold back a choking laugh. “You brought that to dinner
with your mother?”

  “If I learned nothing else in our marriage, it was to always carry one when I’m with you because we can’t keep our hands off one another.” He crowded her toward the sink.

  Her heart was still fluttering, bubbles of laughter rising in her along with a deep craving for reassurance. She needed this. Needed to feel irresistible. Needed the reflection of hunger in him that matched her own urgent desire to break down their barriers and be completely intimate.

  The vanity was too small to sit on. He turned her to face it. Her eyes widened in the mirror as he guided her hands to splay flat upon it. Then he ran his hands down her sides, shaping her hips and coming back up to fondle her breasts.

  “Sometimes I think you have a very dirty mind,” she accused on a pleasured gasp, arching into his palms, pushing her backside into the hardness behind his fly. “That all you think about is sex and what we’ll do next.”

  “Only sometimes?” His hands were slipping into her cleavage, warming and awakening her, making her breaths catch. “It’s not sex I think about. It’s you.”

  She shivered, possibly from his words, possibly from the way he teased her nipples before moving down her sides again, adjusting her, using his feet to nudge hers apart while his gaze stayed glued to hers, making sure she was with him for every breath and caress.

  She was. It was blatant and lewd and they should have gone upstairs to the privacy of his penthouse, but the immediacy of their desire heartened her. It was as comforting as it was exciting. Part of her knew that it wasn’t a strength to be this physically weak, but she drank in the fact he was as anxious to be joined with her as she was. It erased the deep sense of inequality that had been hitting her again and again all day.

  His hands went farther down her hips to her thighs. Her dress came up with the next caress of his hands upward, smoothing over her thighs and hips and up to her waist.