Читать книгу Wedding Night Reunion In Greece - Annie West - Страница 11

EMMA GROUND HER TEETH.

She was tired of men trying to rule her life. At least Papou had acted from love, not self-interest, wanting to see her ‘safe’ with a ‘good’ man before he died. Christo Karides had no such excuse. Her battered heart dipped on the thought but she refused to crumble as the familiar hurt intensified.

Instead she watched the tall figure of her husband turn and saunter back along the beach without a glance in her direction.

He should have looked out of place, ridiculously overdressed, wearing a tailored dark business suit on a sandy beach. Instead, as she watched his easy stride, the latent strength in those broad shoulders and long legs, a thrill of appreciation coursed through her.

What a terrible thing desire was.

Her love, still fresh and new, had been battered away, swamped by pain and outrage. Yet standing in the sunlight, shivering not with cold but with a heat that she tried to label fury, Emma realised in horror that things weren’t so simple.

She despised Christo Karides.

She loathed the cold-hearted way he’d set out to use her.

She vowed never to trust a word he said.

Yet as she watched him disappear around the end of the beach honesty forced her to admit she still desired him. That hadn’t disappeared with her trust and her foolish dreams.

In Melbourne she’d thought the slow pace of his wooing sweet, proof he was considerate to her grief. At the same time she’d hungered for more than gentle caresses.

Now that hunger coalesced with the white-hot ire in her belly, producing an overwhelming mix of emotion and carnal need. She wanted to hurt him for the hurt he’d inflicted on her, yet at the same time she wanted...

Emma gritted her teeth and forced herself to breathe slowly.

She did not want Christo. She refused to allow herself to want him.

What she wanted, what she needed, was to free herself of him and this appalling marriage. She had plans, didn’t she? An exciting scheme that would require all her energy and skill and which promised the reward of self-sufficiency in this place she loved.

Who did he think he was to decree divorce wasn’t an option?

He might be the expert negotiator, the consummate sleazy liar who thought her easy pickings, but he was about to discover Emma Piper couldn’t be steamrollered into compliance!

* * *

Forty-five minutes later Emma made her way from her bedroom to the salon with its expansive views of the sea.

Instead of hurrying to shower and dress, she’d taken her time, after having checked with Dora that Christo was, in fact, still on the premises. With that knowledge she’d locked her door and set about deciding what to wear.

Ideally she’d have worn a tailored suit, severe and businesslike. But Steph had persuaded her to splash out on new clothes for her honeymoon, reminding her that Papou would have wanted her to enjoy herself.

There was nothing businesslike in her wardrobe here. In the end, Emma gave up worrying about what impression her clothes might give Christo. She’d dress for herself.

The swish of her lightweight sea-green skirt around her bare legs reminded her of the holiday she was supposed to be enjoying. That she intended to enjoy as soon as he’d left. Her flat sandals were beach-comfortable rather than dressy and she wore a simple top that was an old favourite.

But she pulled her hair up into a tight knot at the back of her head and put on make-up, feeling that armour was necessary for the upcoming confrontation.

Ignoring the way the door knob slipped in her clammy palm, Emma opened the door and walked in.

To her surprise, Christo wasn’t on his phone, absorbed in business, or pacing the vast room in obvious impatience.

Instead he stood at one end of the room, perusing the family photos her grandmother had collected. Generations of photos, mainly taken here on the Corfu estate to where Papou had brought his Australian bride before they’d decided to live full-time in her home country.

Christo swung around. His pinioning stare brought all the feelings she tried to suppress roaring into life.

After a moment Emma gathered herself. She had nothing to answer for.

She opened her mouth to ask if he needed another drink, then shut it again, annoyed that innate politeness made her even consider making the offer. Instead she crossed to a comfortable chair and sat.

‘We need to talk.’ Good. She sounded calm yet cool.

Silently one black eyebrow rose with arrogant query. The effect might have made her squirm if she hadn’t been prepared.

‘Or, if you prefer, I’m happy to finalise this via our lawyers.’

To Emma’s chagrin that didn’t dent his composure in the least. He strolled the length of the room, stopping to tower over her long enough to make her wonder if she’d made a mistake, taking a seat. Then, just before she shot to her feet, he settled into a chair, not opposite her but slightly to one side.

Emma silently cursed his game-playing and shuffled round to face him. Her skirt rode up at one side and she tugged it down, wishing she’d worn jeans instead.

Annoyingly, Christo looked utterly unruffled.

Until she saw the fire in his eyes and the determined set of his jaw.

Clearly he wasn’t used to being crossed.

Good. It was time someone punctured his self-absorption.

‘I’ll file for divorce in Australia. I assume that’s easiest.’ Her tight chest eased a fraction as she spoke. It would be a relief to take action after days of doing nothing but grapple with disappointment and hurt. It was time to stop the self-pity.

‘That’s not a good idea, Emma.’

She frowned. ‘I can’t stay married to a man I despise.’

For an instant she thought she read something new flare in those heavy-lidded eyes. Something that sent a shiver tumbling down her backbone.

Emma sat straighter. What did she care if he wasn’t used to hearing the truth about himself? He’d behaved appallingly and she refused to pretend otherwise.

‘I know you’re upset by your recent loss, so I’m willing to forgo the apology for your behaviour. But—’

‘Apology for my behaviour?’ She barely got the words out, she was so indignant.

Annoyingly, Christo simply nodded. ‘Disappearing from your own wedding breakfast is hardly good form.’

She goggled at him.

‘But your aunt and I convinced everyone you were completely overwrought. That the wedding had come too soon after the loss of your grandfather.’ He spread his hands. ‘I took the blame for wanting an early wedding, but your family understood and were very sympathetic.’

Emma opened her mouth then closed it again, feeling pressure build inside like steam in a kettle.

This was unbelievable!

‘You made it sound like I had a breakdown? And they believed you?’

He shrugged, the movement emphasising the powerful outline of his shoulders and chest. ‘What else could they believe? Your suitcase was gone, with your purse and passport.’ His eyes narrowed to glowing slits that belied his relaxed pose. As if he were even now calculating how she’d managed to get away. Did he suspect Steph of helping? Had he bullied her into confessing? Steph hadn’t mentioned it, but then she wouldn’t.

‘Once your aunt got that nonsensical message from you, of course she wondered.’

Emma shot to her feet. ‘It wasn’t nonsensical. I explained I needed time alone to think things through.’

Christo merely lifted those sleek black eyebrows and leaned back. ‘Exactly. What sane woman would do that when she had a caring family and a brand-new husband to share her problems with?’

‘Except you were the problem!’ Emma heard her voice rise on a querulous note and swung away, pacing across to the window.

The view across the terrace to the private cove and bright sea did nothing to calm her fury. No one, not even her papou at his most obstinate, had got under Emma’s skin the way this man had. Had she ever been so furious, her thoughts skittering so wildly?

How straightforward her world had been, how easy to be calm, before Christo Karides had slithered into her life.

Emma’s heart hammered high in her chest at his gall, implying she was an emotional wreck who’d had a breakdown.

With a huge effort she pushed that aside. ‘You said you’d worried I’d been abducted. But you knew I’d taken my luggage.’

Another nonchalant shrug. ‘That wasn’t clear at first. Your friend Steph didn’t seem quite sure. And, even if you had left of your own free will, you could still have got into trouble. You’re not used to being by yourself.’

Emma blinked. Christo made her sound like a child. Clearly he had no concept of the fact that she’d run Papou’s house and some of his local investments for years. She’d chosen to live there for Papou’s sake, not because she lacked independence.

Pride demanded she set the record straight.

She swung round and met that complacent, slate-blue stare, feeling the instant buzz of reaction as their gazes clashed. Immediately she changed her mind. Why explain to a man who’d soon be out of her life?

The notion eased the tightness cramping her chest and shoulders.

‘We’re wasting time. What’s done is done.’ It was time they moved on.

‘I agree.’ Yet the way Christo surveyed her, like a cat poised outside a mouse hole, warned her the next step wouldn’t be so simple.

It was on the tip of her tongue to demand an apology but the way he sprawled there, ankles crossed nonchalantly, arms spread across the upholstery as he surveyed her, Emma knew she had no hope of getting satisfaction on that front.

The only satisfaction she’d get from this man was knowing she’d never have to see or hear from him again.

‘It’s in both our interests to end this quickly,’ she began. ‘Would an annulment be faster, do you know?’

‘You think I’m an expert on unconsummated marriages?’ For the first time Emma saw more than a flicker of annoyance in Christo’s preternaturally still expression. Did he think she impugned his manhood by mentioning an annulment? She wouldn’t be surprised. ‘But I can tell you it would be a mistake.’

‘How so?’ Maybe annulments weren’t simple after all.

‘Because I refuse to consider it. Can you imagine the press furore if it became public?’ He shook his head with grim disapproval.

‘Frankly, I don’t care. All I want is to be shot of you.’

His eyes narrowed to steely slits and his stare turned laser-sharp, scraping her throat and face. Emma crossed her arms and refused to look away.

‘You’ve led a sheltered life. You have no idea how disruptive media attention can be till you’ve lived in the public eye.’

He was right. Emma had seen the articles about his business prowess, defying the odds when Greece’s economy had faltered and his global investments had continued to return so spectacularly. And more, about his private life, all those assignations with beautiful women.

She shrugged one tense shoulder, her lips twisting in distaste. ‘I’ll cope, if it means ending this marriage quickly.’

‘You really think you’d be able to deal with paparazzi camped at your door? Following you wherever you go? Digging up dirt—’

‘There’s no dirt to dig up!’ At least not about her. Who knew what secrets Christo guarded?

‘They’d invent something. The press are good at that.’ He paused. ‘Unless you have the power to keep them in check. As I have.’

Emma shuddered at the picture he painted of her hounded by photographers, of scurrilous stories in the tabloids, of friends and family pestered for interviews.

‘If not an annulment, then a divorce.’

Christo spread his hands in mock sympathy. ‘You’d still be hounded relentlessly.’

Emma lifted her chin. ‘Maybe I’ll sell my story to them instead. Have you thought of that? I could make big bucks and then they’d leave me alone.’

For a second Emma thought he’d surge to his feet. She read the quickened pulse throbbing at his temple and the severe line of his mouth and knew Christo Karides wasn’t used to such defiance.

Did people always do as he demanded? It was time someone broke the trend. Satisfaction filled Emma at the thought of being the one to disrupt his plans. She wasn’t a pawn to be played to suit his schemes.

‘Good try, Emma, but you won’t do it.’

‘You think you know me so well?’ She sucked in a rough breath, trying to control the wobble in her voice. It didn’t matter that fury, not hurt, made it unsteady. She hated the idea of seeming weak before this man. ‘You have no idea who I really am. You never did.’

For what seemed an age, her surveyed her. ‘I know you’re a private person. You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve.’ He paused and she wondered, choking down hurt, whether he realised he was rubbing salt on her wounds.

For she had worn her heart on her sleeve. She’d been gullible, believing the unbelievable—that handsome, charming Christo Karides, with the world at his feet, actually cared for mousy little Emma Piper.

She spun on her heel and hurried across to the window, feigning interest in the view she knew as well as the back of her hand. It gave her time to deal with the honed blade of pain slicing through her.

Silence swallowed the room. When Christo spoke again his voice had lost that easy, almost amused cadence. ‘What I mean is, you have more pride and integrity than to share anything so personal with the gutter press.’

Was he complimenting her? Emma blinked out at the sunlight glittering on the Ionian Sea and told herself it was too little and far, far too late.

‘Coping with the press is a problem I’ll deal with when I have to. My priority now is getting a divorce as quickly as possible.’

‘That’s not going to happen, Emma.’

Was that pity in his voice?

Her hackles rose. She swung round and was relieved to find she’d been wrong. That tight jaw spoke of impatience, nothing softer.

‘You can prolong the process but you can’t stop it.’ That much she knew.

‘You’re my wife. We made vows—’

‘Vows that meant nothing whatsoever to you!’ Hearing her voice grow strident, she paused, hefting a shallow breath. Emma needed to stay calm, not fall apart. She’d run from him once, overwhelmed by the disillusionment that had rocked her to the core. She refused to give in to emotion now.

‘I vowed to honour you, to cherish and look after you.’ He’d never looked more proud or more determined. ‘I have every intention of doing just that. This misunderstanding—’

‘There’s no misunderstanding. You cold-heartedly set about marrying me for a property deal.’ As if she were a chunk of real estate! ‘And to get a carer for your child.’ Emma dragged in another breath but couldn’t fill her lungs. ‘Your baby is your responsibility. Yours and your lover’s.’

An image filled her mind of Christo as she’d imagined him so often, sprawled naked in bed. But this time he wasn’t smiling invitingly at her, he was kissing another woman. Their limbs were entwined and...

Emma banished the image and ignored the sour tang on her tongue that might, if she thought about it, be jealousy.

When she spoke again her voice was ragged. ‘Together you need to look after the baby, not foist it on someone else.’

Her heart pumped an unfamiliar beat as adrenalin surged. Emma wasn’t used to confrontation. She was a negotiator, a people pleaser, not a fighter. But something inside her had snapped the day she discovered Christo’s motives and she still rode that wave of indignation.

She didn’t know which was worse—that he’d played on her emotions and callously made her fall for him, or that he’d tried to palm his baby off on someone else. An innocent child deserved its parents’ love.

What sort of world did the man inhabit? Surely one far removed from hers, where family and friends were everything.

Suddenly she realised he was on his feet, prowling towards her. Emma swallowed but stood her ground.

Fortunately he stopped a couple of paces away, so the illusion of distance held, though she caught a hint of the aftershave he used—cedar, spice and leather mingling with warm male skin. To her dismay, a little shimmy of appreciation shot through her.

‘Not my child.’ His voice was silky and soft but she heard the edge of anger. ‘I would never be so careless.’

No, she realised, Christo was careful and calculating. Everything planned. Even down to choosing a suitable bride without a trace of sentiment or true feeling.

‘And not a baby but a little three-year-old girl. The child is my stepsister’s. She died recently.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Emma felt herself soften. She knew about loss, knew the struggle to keep going when everything seemed bleak.

Was it possible grief had made Christo act out of character? Could that explain...?

No. One look into those severely set features disabused her of that notion. She’d been right the first time. Christo didn’t act in passion. He was a schemer who plotted every move.

‘I barely knew her. Only met her once, years ago.’

‘Yet you’re now responsible for her child?’ It made no sense.

He shrugged. ‘There’s no one else.’

It was on the tip of Emma’s tongue to say that must be the case because no sane person would entrust an innocent child to such a man. But she bit the words back. She processed his words—no one else. But that was right: he was an only child and his parents were dead.

‘The father?’

‘If she knew who he was, she never said.’ He paused. ‘No one is going to come along and claim the girl.’

The girl.

He didn’t even call the poor kid by her name.

Sympathy flashed through Emma. She understood what it meant to lose your family young. One day her parents had been there, seeing her off to school. The next, they’d been gone.

But she had her own battle to fight. She couldn’t be swayed by emotion. That had been her downfall before.

‘You both have my sympathy. But that’s no reason to prolong this marriage.’

‘Can you think of a better reason than to nurture a motherless child?’

How dared he talk of nurturing when his plan was to palm the child off on her?

‘Of course I can. What about—?’

‘Yes?’ He leaned closer.

‘Love’, she’d been about to say. Marrying for true love.

But it hadn’t been true and it hadn’t been love, at least on his side. It had been a marriage of convenience.

As for her own feelings, Emma was ashamed of them. Especially since, despite everything he’d done, she wasn’t as immune to this man as she wanted to be. Just as well there was no chance of him turning around and trying to persuade her he loved her. Even now she dreaded to think how effective he might be, given how he’d conned her the first time.

‘I’m not getting into an academic discussion about marriage. I’m sorry for your niece...’ in more ways than one ‘...but she’s your responsibility. Take care of her yourself.’

Again, Emma felt that pang of sympathy for the little girl with no one but Christo to care for her. But he had money with which to bring in the best nannies. Once they were divorced, he’d find another wife. He’d proved how easy that was.

‘Either agree to a divorce or leave. I have business to attend to.’

‘Business?’ His eyebrows shot up and for the first time she felt she’d truly surprised him.

‘I have arrangements to make. A future to plan. A future without you.’

Stormy eyes surveyed her and she felt the force of his disapproval. No, more than disapproval. Sheer fury, if she read the thickening atmosphere correctly.

Once she would have hurried to placate, or at least redirect, that anger. Years living with Papou had made her adept at averting storms, finding ways of making him change his mind over time.

Today Emma stood her ground and rode the wave of displeasure crashing around her. If anything it buoyed her higher, knowing Christo could fume to no avail.

‘These arrangements, do they require capital?’ he asked finally.

‘That’s none of your concern.’ He was stringing this out, hoping to undermine her confidence. Clearly he’d swallowed Papou’s line about her needing to be looked after and guided.

As if part of her degree hadn’t been in business management! Clearly Christo had missed that part of their conversation, probably distracted by planning how to tie her to his niece’s nursery.

‘On the contrary, it is my concern, if you’re hoping to use your grandfather’s property as capital.’

Something dropped hard through Emma’s middle, like a stone plunging into a pool of arctic water. Chill splinters pricked her body.

She didn’t like the triumph in Christo’s eyes. As if he knew something she didn’t.

But that was impossible. She already knew control of the valuable real estate in Athens had been handed to Christo on her behalf. Emma intended to change that, along with her married status.

‘It’s not my grandfather’s property now. It’s mine.’ Her gaze swept the gracious room. This place, so full of precious memories, was her solace now, her home.

And more. It was her future. Her one asset, given her savings after years studying and looking after Papou were negligible. She’d get a loan using the property as collateral and invest it in the business she’d establish.

‘If only that were true.’ A deep voice cut through her thoughts.

She swung her head round to face him.

Either Christo had the best poker face in the world or he really did have bad news for her. Emma had a horrible feeling he was about to pull the rug out from under her feet...again.

She hiked her chin up, ignoring her stomach’s uneasy roiling. ‘If you have something to say, say it. I’ve had enough games.’

That sharp gaze held hers an instant longer then he shrugged. ‘It seems your grandfather didn’t tell you everything.’

That did it. Emma’s stomach was now in freefall. She shifted her feet wider, bracing herself for the axe she sensed was about to drop, curling her hands into each other behind her back where Christo couldn’t see.

‘Go on.’

‘He believed you needed a guiding hand. Which is why he left me in charge of the Athens property.’

‘And?’ Was he dragging this out to torment her?

‘And your other inheritance, the estate here, is yours with the proviso that for the next five years any decision to sell or develop it, or take a loan against it, is subject to my approval. I have the right to veto any change of use if I don’t believe it’s in your long-term best interests.’

He smiled, a baring of white teeth that looked carnivorous rather than reassuring. ‘Look on me as your business partner.’

Emma had been prepared for something but not this.

The blow struck at her knees, making them shake and threaten to collapse. Frantically she redistributed her weight, standing taller and hauling her shoulders back to glare at the man surveying her with that smug hint of a smile on his too-handsome face.

‘I’ll fight it. I’ll challenge it in court.’

‘Of course you will.’ If she didn’t know better, she’d almost have believed that soothing tone. ‘But do you know how long that will take, or how much it will cost? How it will eat into your inheritance?’ He paused, letting her digest that. ‘You could lose everything.’

Main force alone kept Emma where she was. If she thought she had a hope of doing it, she’d have slammed a fist straight into Christo’s smirking mouth.

She was still reeling, her brain whirring fruitlessly because, outrageous as it sounded, it was just the sort of thing her old-fashioned Papou might have done. Especially as he’d known his grandson-in-law-to-be was a commercial wunderkind.

He’d wanted to protect Emma. Instead he’d tied her to a man who wasn’t fit to enter this house.

Belatedly she realised she should have insisted on reading every line of every legal document herself. More fool her!

‘I’ll still fight it.’ Her voice was strained, her vocal cords pulled too tight.

‘That’s your prerogative.’ Christo paused, that searing gaze stripping her bare. ‘But there’s an alternative.’

‘What is it?’ She didn’t dare hope but she had to know.

‘Simple. Meet my terms and you can do as you like with this place.’ His mouth lifted at one corner in a hint of a smile but Emma knew in her very bones this would be anything but simple. ‘I’ll sign your inheritance into your control. All you have to do is fulfil your vows and live as my wife for a year.’