“So romantic.” This time her voice held a note of bitterness.
“You want a honeymoon?”
She looked out of the window, the setting sun encasing her profile in golden light. “If we’re supposed to be in love, then it seems a little strange that we’re not going anywhere, doesn’t it?”
Maybe it did. For a fake marriage, he was doing an awful lot of “real” relationship activities. “What if I take you away for a weekend? Two days, that’s all my schedule can afford, and that should appease anyone who asks.”
It was risky, being alone with Marianna. Her presence was like a hum in his bloodstream, a constant niggle in his brain like the kind he couldn’t turn off whenever intuition bothered him. Only this wasn’t the same as when he got a feeling about a stock—it wasn’t the urge to act on something good or the desire to retreat from something bad. It was a new feeling entirely. And Nico didn’t like it one bit.
She turned to him and smiled. “Where should we go?” she asked.
“Paris. Milan. Wherever.” He shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
“How about we stay here and you show me around Corfu?”
He blinked. “You must be the only woman in the world who’s turned down international travel for her honeymoon in favor of staying at home.”
“Your home,” she corrected. “Not mine until recently. I know very little about Corfu. I don’t know where the best pastries are or which coast has the better view. I don’t know which restaurants the locals eat at, or where to buy my vegetables.”
“The chef buys our vegetables.”
She shot him a look that was the child of pity and judgement. Wait a minute, he’d offered her a fancy honeymoon overseas even though their relationship was 100 percent fake and she was acting like he was the one living a sheltered life. What the hell?
“What?” he snapped.
“I’m going to be living here thanks to our…arrangement, and I like to know my environment. I can’t find all these spots on my own, you know. They’ll mistake me for a tourist and send me to the places that charge too much for wine and pass the crappy cheese off as the good stuff.”
The fact that she was concerned about getting access to the good wine and cheese made him smile. Marianna appreciated her food. Her curvy body was testament to that, in the best way possible. His mind shot him into the past, remembering the way she’d pulled that damn white dress up over her head, those rounded thighs moving back and forth as she wriggled out of the fabric. She’d felt like heaven wedged against the side of his pool, his hands full of her rounded bottom as she’d come, gasping in shock.
Nico cleared his throat and tried to think of something that would turn him off. The last thing he needed were those big, soulful brown eyes staring at his crotch again.
“You want me to show you around for a weekend? That’s it?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ll give you a list of the things I’d like to know, and you can pick the places to take me.”
She’ll give me a list… He stared out of the window as the coastline rolled past. It wasn’t hard to see why she wanted to stay here for their “honeymoon.” With the sun low over an azure horizon, and the water shimmering like diamonds, it was a picture painted by God’s brush. Perfection.
It would have been easier to take her to Paris. Away from home, he could forget about all the things he didn’t want her to see, all the parts of himself that he planned to keep locked up tight. This was the red flag warning him that Dion was right. She was pushing for more.
Or was it only that she wanted to feel comfortable in her new home?
“Fine. A honeymoon at home it is.”
Marianna turned to her own window, but he didn’t miss her lip curving into a satisfied smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Chapter Ten
Dion’s backyard was filled to the brim with people. Glowing lanterns hung all around, and the air was heavy with laughter and conversation. Much of that conversation was about Marianna and Nico, she was sure of it. Thankfully no one had been too pushy when speaking to her, but the night was still young.
There was only so much longer she could pretend to drink a glass of champagne without getting caught tipping it into the plants behind her, however. Faking a history with Nico as well as faking not being pregnant was a lot for one evening.
“Are you having a good time?” Dion sauntered over, a charming smile on his handsome face.
“I feel like I’m on display at a zoo,” she replied, her gaze snagging on where her husband stood across the yard, his dark hair looking ink black against the deep indigo sky. He was nodding seriously, no doubt talking business. “With the way people are looking at me, you should be charging admission. Why bring a freak show along if you’re not going to capitalize on it?”
“You’re hardly a freak show.”
“Aren’t I?” She placed her still-full drink down on a table next to her. “What am I, then? Evidence? Proof?”
Dion raised a brow. “Of?”
“That Nico hasn’t gone off the rails and fabricated a wife.”
“You’re never going to be proof of that.” He laughed. “People will always talk about those who don’t fit the mold.”
Nico glanced over, as if sensing they were talking about him, but his attention was quickly drawn back into his own conversation. He looked incredibly handsome in a pair of light gray suit pants and a crisp white shirt that hugged his impeccable physique. The pants were cut slim down the leg, making him look even taller and leaner.
Marianna dragged her eyes away, annoyed that she still found him so attractive despite his attitude toward her. “Why do people think he doesn’t fit the mold?”
Dion rubbed a hand over his smooth, olive-toned jaw. “He’s remote. He doesn’t…connect with people.”
“I hear that’s your job.”
“I’m the charmer and he’s the brains, or so Nico thinks.”
Curiosity nipped at her. “You’ve known him a long time, right?”
“Since childhood.” He spoke slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. “We were raised in an orphanage together.”
Marianna blinked. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”
“Some people can only open themselves up so many times before the rejection wears them down.”
She wasn’t sure if Dion was referring to himself or to Nico. Or both. “Did you end up going into different homes when you were adopted?”
“We were never adopted.” Dion’s easy expression had hardened.
“Never?” she whispered. In spite of herself, her chest clenched as she watched Nico chatting to an older woman and man, a polite smile fixed onto his handsome features. It wasn’t a real smile. She might not know him well, yet, but she knew that much.
Yet? Do you think he’s going to magically open up to you out of the blue? He didn’t marry you for love, so don’t expect it.
Dion cleared his throat. “Family is what you make it. We never had parents, but we had each other, we had the sisters. And we have everyone here.” He gestured to the full yard. “This is my family now.”
People loved Dion. They smiled readily when he approached, thanked him profusely for the invite. And Marianna could see why. He introduced her around, making good-natured quips about how she was the reason Nico had been so absent of late. With Dion’s approval, the staff of their company welcomed her to Corfu, doled out dining recommendations, invited her into their homes. But when she’d been standing with Nico earlier, people had skirted around them as if afraid to approach. That was the Nico Effect, she’d come to realize.
“Don’t break him.” Dion’s low voice took her by surprise.
“Excuse me?”
“He’s not used to having people get close. I’m not stupid. I know this whole thing is going to go one of two ways. Either you decide you want more, and when he pushes you away you’ll leave. Or you decide you don’t want to be attached to a man who can’t love you the way you want, and t
hen you’ll leave.” Dion cleared his throat. “But it always ends with you leaving.”
“Who knows, maybe he’ll kick me out.” Marianna resisted the urge to press her hand to her stomach to settle the uneasiness there.
“He won’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“He didn’t need to marry you.” Dion placed a hand on her shoulder, but whether it was a gesture of comfort or warning she wasn’t sure. “But he’ll do anything to make sure his kid has a better life than we did. And Nico doesn’t break promises, good or bad.”
She bit down on her lip. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s meant to. He’s not going to give it to you straight, so I will: Nico doesn’t know how to be with anyone but himself.”
“Then why do you have him as a business partner?”
“Because I knew I could make us both a lot of money, and I was worried that if I left him to his own devices he would become an actual hermit, instead of a recluse-in-training.”
It seemed strange for someone whose house was always bustling with activity to be considered a recluse-in-training. But Marianna supposed that interacting with staff didn’t count as having company…not that she’d seen Nico talk to the staff all that much, mind you.
“Well, I’m not sure why you’re worried about me,” she said, turning to Dion so her words wouldn’t catch the ears of any gossip-hungry guests. “I can fend for myself.”
“I hear he’s taking you on a honeymoon…at your request.”
Damn, news traveled fast in Corfu. “We’re not leaving the island. I want him to take me around so I can be more independent. I’d rather get out of that house and do some exploring, but I don’t know enough of the language yet.”
Yet. She was going to fix that. She’d already picked up a few words here and there, like kaliméra for good morning and neró for water. She’d already been studying to get the basics down. And Lydia had been teaching her a few things each morning while Marianna ate her breakfast in the kitchen.
“We’re only calling it a honeymoon to appease the chatter of your staff,” she replied. “Maybe you should tell them to worry less about the personal lives of their bosses and more about their work.”
Dion chuckled. “You don’t know much about our culture, do you, Marianna? Gossip is like fire and water. A necessity.”
“It’s sordid.”
“Maybe, but it’s how it is. And if you’re calling it a honeymoon to appease people, fine. So long as it doesn’t mean you’re expecting Nico to suddenly act like a real husband.”
“Gee, I’m so grateful to have your approval. Thanks, Dion.” She kept her voice low, but her sarcasm wasn’t any less clear.
He reached past her and grabbed her champagne flute, deftly sloshing a good portion out and handing the half-empty glass back to her. “You look like you’re in need of a top up. I’ll grab a fresh bottle.”
He walked away and left his words ringing in her ears: don’t break him.
How was it possible for someone like her—who was clearly in the most vulnerable position in this relationship—to break a man like Nico? She watched him from the quiet fringe of the event, studying the man whose home had become hers. Whose child she carried. Whose life was now so irrevocably intertwined with her own. And she wondered if she would ever know him.
…
“What on earth are you doing here when you have a new wife to take care of?” Spiro, his head of IT, chortled and slapped him on the back. “Take advantage of the peace and quiet now before the babies come. Life will be very different then.”
Nico tipped a bottle of beer up to his lips and forced himself to stifle the retort burning in the back of his throat. The words wanted to press their way out, tasting more acidic every time someone made a thinly veiled suggestion that he should be at home with Marianna. In bed.
And it wasn’t because those kinds of comments—no matter how vaguely presented—were inappropriate for a work event. It was because his own mind drifted to the carnal side of things more than he wanted. If that wasn’t bad enough, it was even more disconcerting that watching Dion and Marianna talk, heads bowed, made something hot and uncomfortable flash through him like lightning. Jealousy. Not something he felt often, truth be told.
He’d experienced it in abundance as a child, watching the other children come and go. Finding homes and having families that he never would. But by the time he’d left the orphanage he knew such an emotion was a waste of time. Jealousy would not get him anywhere. He had to take the things he wanted, work hard, and keep his nose clean. So he didn’t covet what others had. Instead, he drove himself to acquire what he wanted. Blinkers on. Never looking at his neighbor.
Until now…
Dion had walked away, leaving Marianna alone with a half-empty glass.
“See,” Spiro said, nudging him in the ribs. “You can’t even keep your eyes off her.”
As one of their longest-running employees, he was the only man who could get away with ribbing Nico like that. “Can you blame me?” he asked smoothly. “She’s a vision.”
“Absolutely.”
Nico caught sight of someone approaching Marianna. He’d recognize the long blond hair and tanned limbs anywhere. Alethea.
Shit.
“Excuse me, Spiro. I shouldn’t leave my wife by herself for too long.” He took off before waiting for a response, disposing of his beer bottle on the way.
He needed to make sure Alethea and Marianna weren’t left alone long enough for his ex to do any damage. Curse Dion for inviting her. The only reason he still had anything to do with her was because her father had become a huge investor in their company and she and Dion had formed a friendship. But Nico kept his distance as much as humanly possible.
“Alethea,” he said, coming up beside Marianna and slipping an arm around her waist. She stiffened for a moment, but mercifully didn’t push him away. “Thanks for coming tonight.”
Alethea stuck her hand out politely in Marianna’s direction. “It’s an honor to meet the new Mrs. Gallinas. I’m Alethea Karras.”
Marianna smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
“It’s a shame you didn’t have a big wedding like we tend to here. I’m sure you made a beautiful bride.” The compliment seemed sincere. Alethea’s tone was…sad. But she smiled brightly and clapped her hands together. “Please tell me you’re going to bring some photos to the office. I’d love to see them.”
“You know I’m not one for photos,” Nico said.
Alethea’s smile faltered. “Of course.”
Marianna pressed closer into Nico’s side, as if sensing the tension. Thought it wasn’t hard to miss. Whenever he and Alethea were together, there was always a strange feeling in the air.
“Do you work for Nico and Dion?” Marianna asked.
Alethea shook her head, her gold hair catching the light of the lanterns. She smoothed her hands down the front of a fitted purple dress. It was almost comical how different she and Marianna looked—as if they were dolls someone had dressed up for the sake of an example. Past and present. Real and…well, he wasn’t quite sure what to call Marianna at this point. Their ties were real. Their obligations were real. But the rest of it…he had no idea.
“I’m more like a friend of the family,” she said. Nico held his breath, bracing against the pain that came whenever she used that word. These days it still hit him like a ton of bricks. “My father is…was an investor. He passed away last year.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Marianna’s shoulders sagged as though she’d taken on the weight of Alethea’s sorrow. “I lost both my parents when I was young, so…I understand. It’s very hard.”
“Yes, it really is. We were close.” Alethea’s lip quivered for a moment, but then she brought a drink to her lips and took a sip. “Oh, how rude of me.” She laughed and shook her head. “Here I am spilling my sob story on you when I should be toasting your marriage. That’s unacceptable. Yamas.”
Alethea’s cham
pagne flute was suspended in front of her. Nico’s eyes darted to Marianna as she raised her glass, a determined smile on her lips. They clinked glasses and Marianna brought the flute to her lips, tipping her head back but keeping her lips firmly closed so that the champagne only touched rather than passed them.
If Alethea noticed the fake sip, she didn’t say anything.
“So you’ve known Nico a long time, then?” Marianna asked. “I bet you must have some dirt on him.”
He frowned and looked down at his wife. With her low-heeled shoes, she was two heads shorter than him, and the angle at which she looked up made her eyes appear large and round. Doe-like.
“Why do you want dirt on me?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful. She could have no idea how close to a nerve her question had struck.
“I’ll file it away for when we have our first marital fight,” she said with a cheeky smile. “Tell me, Alethea, how was he growing up?”
“Not half as grumpy as he is now.” Alethea laughed, and the sound was like being shot with memories. Some grazed his skin, and others took aim for his organs. “Nico was like a sponge. Anything he could learn, he would. Although I hear he was terrible in school, which always surprised me. You’ve married a man with a very sharp mind. He doesn’t miss a trick.”
Marianna made an interested hmm sound. “No, he certainly does not.”
Nico tightened his grip on Marianna’s waist. He’d give this conversation five minutes before he got her the hell out of there. Silky hair brushed his arm as she leaned her head against him. Damn her, she was enjoying making him sweat.
“I understand you’re new to Corfu,” Alethea said. “We should do lunch one day. I know the cutest little spot on the water that does amazing cocktails and has a wonderful view.”
“Sure.” She beamed. “That would be wonderful.”
Nico was about to pull Marianna away when the sound of a tinkling glass caught his attention. Spiro had walked over, his wife by his side, and was calling for everyone to quiet down.
Beauty and the Greek Billionaire Page 10