Читать книгу The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife - Annie West - Страница 9

TESSA’S lungs emptied on a whoosh of air as she stared up at him, towering over her. She’d known his engagement was a possibility yet still his announcement shocked her, leaving an inexplicable hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Her reaction was nonsensical. He didn’t have a role in her life. His relationships were no business of hers.

And yet he’d called her his wife.

The idea was preposterous. They both knew the truth: she’d never been that.

Tessa flinched at the travesty of a smile he turned on her. It was feral. His expression had a definite predatory edge that made her wish she were anywhere but here.

She could almost imagine him sinking those strong white teeth into the soft skin at the base of her neck. Either that or wrapping his hands around her there to squeeze the breath out of her.

She looked into his face and for a moment knew fear.

Then logic asserted itself. He might be furious, might even want to hurt her, but Stavros Denakis was a civilised man. His previous actions had surely proved that.

She wondered if he had any idea how tightly he grasped her hand.

‘You’re hurting me,’ she said quietly, staring back into his blazing eyes.

He blinked and released her. Instantly blood throbbed back into her hand and she winced.

There was a thud as the heavy ring dropped and she looked down to see it spinning on the table between them. Above it was her outstretched palm, dwarfed by his. Both bore the deep imprint of the ring. Her hand was trembling and she drew it sharply back into her lap, massaging it against the pins and needles that prickled there.

‘My apologies,’ he said in a toneless voice.

But her mind was already racing, processing the information he’d flung at her in such lashing anger.

‘You’re going to be married?’

‘Amusing, isn’t it?’ Yet there was no humour in that flash of a smile he turned on her. ‘I find myself in the unlikely position of possessing both a wife and a fiancée.’

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment against a sudden swirl of dizziness. What on earth was he talking about? None of this made sense. Not to a brain numbed by shock and far too many wakeful hours.

‘I…don’t know what to say.’

‘Don’t you?’ His deep voice was taunting. ‘You surprise me. I thought you’d have it all worked out. Have you decided on a dollar amount? Or is it euros you prefer?’

‘Euros? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’ She shook her head and the room spun, the edges of her vision blurring, making her glad she was sitting.

There was definite meaning behind his words. An accusation even. But her mind was too foggy to process it.

She should have stopped to rest in Athens before coming on to find him. Should have taken the time to sleep and eat and recuperate. From South America to the United States—an internal flight there and a lengthy delay due to some engine problem—then the leg to Greece, the chaos of Athens and finding her way by public transport to the port of Piraeus; finally the ferry to this island in the Saronic Gulf…Tessa’s journey had taken forever.

She was exhausted. The shock of discovering him to be alive and the strain of uncertainty had kept her too keyed-up to sleep even through the tedium of flights and airport delays. Now the long hours without rest took their toll.

She grasped the edge of the table with both hands and clung on tight. With an effort she forced back the strange, woozy feeling and stiffened her spine.

Tessa wasn’t up to facing this angry stranger. He wasn’t at all like her recollection of him. Had her treasured memories been a case of rose-tinted glasses?

Perhaps she should have heeded the cowardly inner voice that had urged her to forget what had happened and scurry home to Australia. To leave the past safely buried.

‘Enough!’ His hand thumped, palm down, onto the table and she jumped, eyes widening. ‘I don’t have time for these games. It’s obvious why you’re here. There’s no point prevaricating.’

His dark eyes probed as he thrust his head close to hers across the table. Animosity vibrated from him in waves, a palpable force. He was trying to intimidate her into submission.

And he was doing an excellent job!

Tessa shoved her chair back and got to her feet, thankful for the support of the table. Her knees were absurdly wobbly.

‘Where do you think you’re going? You’re not leaving until I’m finished with you.’

And when would that be? His fury seemed infinite.

‘I’m just putting myself on a more equal footing,’ she replied quietly. She’d learned through bitter experience that a calm demeanour was the safest response to hostility.

His glare didn’t diminish but he stood back a fraction from the table. Even that small distance seemed to lessen the impact of his sparking hostility and she breathed more easily.

‘So how much do you want?’ he demanded.

‘How much what?’

‘Sto Diavolo!’ He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘I have no patience for this game of yours. Can’t you manage a direct answer to a simple question?’

‘I would if I knew what the question was.’ She raised her palm when he would have spoken. ‘But perhaps it will ease your mind if I tell you I didn’t come here to get anything from you. I only came to return the ring.’

She looked down at the table and the familiar ornament lying on the wood. She blinked. Stupid to feel sentimental about a chunk of jewellery. She didn’t need a good-luck charm any more.

She raised her eyes to his and strove to ignore the sizzle of heat that blasted out at her.

‘There’s one more thing,’ she said, shuffling her feet as a wave of tiredness made her unsteady.

‘Of course there is. At last we come to it.’ There was contempt on his face and a sneer curved his sensual mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest. The action emphasised the power of his body, even in a superbly tailored evening jacket. He radiated sheer masculine force.

She shook her head and then wished she hadn’t, when it took a moment to bring him back into focus.

‘I came to thank you,’ she said and held out her hand to him.

That took him aback. He stared at her as if he’d never shaken hands before.

‘If it hadn’t been for you,’ she continued, ‘I’d be dead. You saved my life.’ Her lips curved in a tentative smile. ‘I never got to thank you for that, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t forget. I owe you so much.’

‘What nonsense is this?’ His brows furrowed heavily and he ignored her gesture. His face grew dark with anger.

Disappointed, Tessa let her arm drop, her stamina seeping away at his abrupt rejection. The nervous energy that had kept her on the move for days bled away in a sudden rush, leaving her weightless and hollow.

She ought to sit, regroup and gather her strength. But his eyes held her spellbound.

‘You have the temerity to come here and spin me such a tale? Do you take me for a fool?’ He stood up straighter, stretching to his full, formidable height. ‘I’m afraid for your sake I’m not that gullible. It takes more than a pretty face to convince me.’

The muscles in Tessa’s abdomen tightened convulsively as if absorbing a physical blow—such was the repressed violence in him. She set her jaw and ignored the sudden glaze of heat behind her eyes.

‘In that case there’s no more to be said.’ Tessa dragged her gaze from his. So he didn’t accept her gratitude. That was his problem, not hers.

What sort of man could be so lacking in charity or trust or even common courtesy?

‘I’ll be on my way, then.’ His face was a blur as she turned quickly to her backpack, propped against the wall. Giddiness rocked her as he stepped close, hemming her in.

‘I said, you won’t leave until we sort this out.’ He glared down at her, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, the epitome of male displeasure.

‘And I’ve said all I intend to say.’ Tessa snapped her teeth shut against the temptation to call him a bullying lout. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’ve covered everything. You’ve got your ring and it’s time for me to leave.’

‘Straight into the waiting arms of the paparazzi? I think not.’

The Press? What would she want with the Press? Tessa had other concerns right now, like where she’d find a bed for the night. She hoped she had enough cash to tide her over. She hadn’t counted on a side-trip to Greece when she’d begun her journey in South America.

It had been a stupid impulse after all.

‘I have no intention of talking to any paparazzi,’ she assured him. ‘So you can stop your fuming and step out of my way.’

Slowly he shook his head and she read the speculation in his dark grey eyes. Speculation and something else she couldn’t put a name to. But it made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

‘You have no right to keep me here.’ Despite her rising anxiety Tessa’s voice sounded oddly muted, as if it came from a long distance away.

His lips curved up in a sinister smile that sent a shudder rippling down her backbone.

‘What about the right of a husband?’ he murmured. ‘A husband long-deprived of his lovely wife.’

He stepped close, bringing his powerful body flush against hers. His heat radiated into her, searing her through her shabby clothes. But it was the menace in his expression that sucked the breath from her.

‘You’ll find that here in Greece we take the responsibilities, and the rights of a husband very seriously.’

Something sizzled in his eyes, molten hot and arresting. She felt her reaction to it, a feverish trembling, right through her body. That frightened her more than anything else.

‘Then I hope your fiancée knows exactly what she’s getting herself into.’ Tessa angled her chin up and met his eyes, glare for glare. But she had no hope of outfacing him. This man had all the self-confidence of a deity.

‘Enough! This is getting us nowhere.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ She sidestepped him and took a single pace towards her luggage. Then two things happened simultaneously: a large hand manacled her elbow and her shaky legs crumpled beneath her.

She heard a rush of incomprehensible invective as the room tilted wildly and his dark eyes—large and disbelieving—swam before her.

She stiffened her knees, bracing herself against the dizziness. But already he was bending, scooping her up in his arms and tucking her tight against his deep chest.

He encompassed her. Those strong arms curved underneath, supporting her. His powerful chest cushioned her. And his eyes…his eyes meshed with hers, lustrous and compelling. She felt as if they looked into her very soul. Everything about him radiated male dominance: from the bunched muscles binding her close to the arrogant jut of his nose. Even the hint of dark shadow on his hard jaw reinforced the impression of primal machismo.

And something else, something unsettling eddied around her, drawing her nerves to attention. It was the scent of his skin, she realised as she gazed at his mask-still features. Like tangy pine and earthy male. Intriguing. Inviting. Tempting.

Blood pulsed loud in her ears as she stared at him. Her heart throbbed heavily, echoing the steady beat she felt deep inside his chest. Her mouth dried as the world shrank to just the two of them. Close, closer…

‘There’s no need for this,’ she whispered, surprised to find her voice so reedy. ‘I can stand.’

She might not have spoken.

‘What have you been doing, starving yourself?’ One large hand splayed across her ribcage, right under her breast. His fingers slid experimentally across her ribs and back again, almost as if he were counting them. He scowled, his brows tilting at a ferocious angle.

‘When did you last eat?’

‘I had something on the plane.’ A cup of coffee and dry crackers somewhere over the Atlantic. Flying still made her nervous and that was all she’d been able to stomach.

She looked into his dark gold face, into his gleaming, furious eyes, and felt a tightening in her chest, as if someone had squeezed her heart.

‘Christos! What did you intend to do? Make a grand entrance and then collapse at my feet in a bid for sympathy?’

Tessa wriggled in his arms, trying to loosen his hold so she could stand on her own feet. But his grip remained firm and unforgiving.

Anger surged through her. He had no cause to treat her like this. She’d only been trying to do the right thing, and she’d come all this way!

So much for the famed Greek hospitality she’d heard about.

‘I have no interest in your sympathy, Mr Denakis.’ She spat out the words, tasting bitter disillusionment on her tongue. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. We don’t have a relationship. We never did. And,’ she cut across him as he opened his mouth to speak, ‘I’m not interested in meeting any journalists.’ She swallowed, trying to moisten her parched mouth. Her sudden burst of energy was fading fast. ‘Now I’d appreciate it if you’d put me down.’

For a moment she saw a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. Then the impression was gone, ousted by the sheer arrogance of his flared nostrils and raised brows as he looked down his impressive, aristocratic nose at her.

‘A fine performance, madam. Truly masterful. But you and I both know it was just that: a performance. We’re bound to each other, until such time as I decide how best to sever the connection.’

He swung round towards the door so quickly that the room blurred around her.

‘We will discuss this somewhere more congenial. I, for one, have no desire to continue this discussion here.’

He looked away and she was left gazing up at the under-side of his sharply angled jaw, the plane of his cheek and his well-shaped ear.

It was like looking at the man she remembered, but through a distorting glaze of anger. Briefly she wondered if Stavros Denakis had an evil twin. Or whether the man she’d met four years ago had been an impostor.

But it was the same man. There could be no mistaking the way her heart accelerated just being close to him, or the hint of longing that tinged her anger.

It was appalling but true: Tessa had never reacted to anyone else this way. Now she discovered that the only man to make her feel so aware was an egotistical, bad-tempered brute!

It was typical of her luck.

‘You find this situation humorous?’ His deep voice rumbled up from his chest, a vibration she felt as well as heard. ‘Believe me, you won’t find it funny by the time I’ve finished with you.’

‘No!’ Tessa gritted her teeth while she searched for a calm tone. ‘I don’t find it at all amusing to be manhandled.’

He stopped in mid-stride and stared down at her. An overhead light haloed his hair, turning him into a dark vengeful angel. His eyes were impenetrable.

‘Is that a threat?’ he asked softly. ‘A hint of harassment litigation to come?’

The suppressed violence in his tone made her shiver. She clenched her hands against the impulse to do something stupid such as try to claw her way out of his unforgiving grip. She knew instinctively that he’d have no compunction about using his superior strength to stop her.

‘I have no interest in a lawsuit. But that doesn’t mean you can ride roughshod over me.’ She snatched a quick breath before her courage faded. ‘Now, I’d be grateful if you’d put me down. I prefer to walk.’

For a long moment he scrutinised her with all the hauteur of a prince surveying some upstart lackey. Tessa felt the blood warm her cheeks, so intense was that survey. And so disapproving.

Then his mouth tilted up at one side in a self-satisfied smirk that disappeared almost before she registered it.

‘You’ll find it easier to do things the way I wish them to be done.’

And then he was stalking down the long corridor again, holding her effortlessly, ignoring everything she’d said.

They passed a series of closed doors and then he swung round a corner, exiting the building under a covered walkway. The soft, balmy night air caressed her skin and she breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing pulse. From somewhere nearby came the sound of people, lots of people, enjoying themselves. Through the jumble of voices she heard a thread of music.

A party. She’d arrived when he was entertaining, and by the sound of it this was no intimate family gathering. That might explain the tension in him when he’d stormed in to confront her.

But nothing could excuse his behaviour since.

Tessa blinked back hot, futile tears at the realisation that the man she’d put on a pedestal for all these years was the sort of arrogant bully she most detested.

How had she got it so wrong?

And why did it matter? After tonight they’d never see each other again.

The walkway ended at another, larger building. He barely slowed his pace to negotiate the door and another corridor. There was no similarity between this architect-designed palace and the utilitarian security block they’d just left. The rooms here were discreetly opulent. Fresh flowers scented the air and there were fine furnishings, artfully placed, designed for both comfort and display. Spacious. Luxurious. The home of a mega-wealthy man.

The magazine had been right after all: Stavros Denakis had more money than she’d ever dreamed of. The divide between them was impossible to breach.

The realisation chilled her and she slumped in his hold.

She’d known from the first that he wasn’t like other men. His absolute self-assurance, his willingness to take charge, his split-second decision-making, even in traumatic circumstances, the power and confidence he radiated…She’d been so grateful for those qualities the day he’d rescued her. But now at last she understood—they were simply the qualities of a man used to command, a man with the riches to buy whatever he wanted.

The knowledge destroyed the last shred of her treasured dreams—the secret romantic image of the man who’d snatched her from the threat of torture and death.

Through four arduous years of hardship she’d fantasised that one day a man like him, a man with those same qualities, might find her. And when they met he wouldn’t act out of necessity, but out of desire. For her.

That old impossible longing to be loved just for herself. It was a wonder she hadn’t grown out of it after all she’d been through.

Stavros strode into the sitting room of a guest suite. The one nearest to his own rooms. He’d keep this troublemaker under close scrutiny until he sorted out a solution to the diabolical mess she’d created.

She lay passive in his arms now, as limp as a doll. No more of those useless struggles.

He’d been relieved to feel her surge of energy as she tried to escape his hold. She looked so fragile, her eyes huge in her delicately moulded face, her body more than slim. But she was surprisingly strong. Not enough to push him away, of course, but enough to reassure him that she wasn’t at death’s door.

That would be an unnecessary complication.

The situation was already fraught enough. The sizzle of connection he felt whenever he met Tessa Marlowe’s green-eyed gaze warned him of added danger. A flicker of heat burned his skin as he inhaled her fresh soap scent. It blazed when he thought about the way her body fitted perfectly in his arms. And it had nothing to do with his righteous fury. It hinted at something much more basic.

Yet he refused to acknowledge any attraction to this cheap, unprincipled opportunist.

The sharp possessive pleasure he experienced, clasping her tight to his chest, feeling her soft hair tease his neck, was an illusion. The product of shock at seeing her again. It couldn’t be anything else.

Nevertheless, the sooner he put some distance between them, the better. For even in her underfed state, Tessa Marlowe had curves in all the right places. Curves that his hands itched to explore.

He lowered her onto a nearby sofa, his movements abrupt. Immediately he straightened and stepped back, furious at the way her scent lingered in his nostrils, feeding the edgy awareness deep inside him. His temperature had climbed a couple of degrees too, a reaction to holding her feminine form so intimately close.

Damnation!

He turned away, picked up the internal phone and snapped out an order for coffee, food and ouzo.

This would take time to sort out. Time he didn’t have. Damn it all, he had his engagement party to attend!

A hot tide of fury roared through him.

How dared she put him in this position?

He swung round to confront her, his lips already forming a stinging rebuke. But the words jammed in his throat.

She was silently weeping, her face angled away from him and her head pressed back against the cushioned seat. There were no tears on her cheeks, but her eyes brimmed with them, glittering crystalline-bright in the lamp-light.

She looked distraught.

Guilt rippled through him but he crushed it instantly.

She was simply a superlative actress, playing the sympathy card. His mind knew it. Even so, the ploy worked.

Unwillingly he recalled the first time he’d seen her. The echo of gunfire in the distance had been a stark contrast to the waiting silence of the tiny, evil-smelling cell. Fear had hung in the air, and despair. She’d had tears in her eyes then too, but she’d blinked them away and scrambled to her feet, adopting a defensive stance that told him all he needed to know about the way she’d been treated.

She’d been desperate, expecting the worst, but ready to fight.

And he’d responded immediately. Not only to the need to rescue her from a dire situation, but more: to her gorgeous face, her tempting body.

No! He refused to go there.

Whatever had happened four years ago, he knew exactly why she was here now. To milk him for all she could get.

He was no gullible fool, to be sucked in by a show of female emotion. She’d underestimated him if she thought he’d dance to her tune just because she shed a few tears.

‘I’m listening,’ he growled, planting his fists on his hips and ignoring the way she flinched at his threatening tone. ‘What is your asking price?’

Tessa blinked back the burning film of tears, berating herself for getting so emotional. The last thing she wanted was to display weakness before this man.

His temper vibrated, almost out of control, between them.

‘There is no price.’ She looked across the room at a bright abstract painting, avoiding his hard stare.

‘My patience is at an end,’ he barked. ‘You will get no more by delaying. In fact, for every minute you keep me waiting, the final settlement will be cut.’

Tessa frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

A flurry of outraged Greek singed her ears and in the next instant a large body invaded her space, crowding her back against the corner of the sofa.

Large hands grabbed hers, yanking her around so that she faced him as he sat beside her. Searing heat surged into her, from his touch, his body, his glittering eyes.

He was furious, grim, dangerous.

And he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

Her throat closed in panic.

‘Tell me now,’ he whispered, and the softly menacing tone scared her more than his earlier outrage. ‘Exactly how much will it cost me to be free of you?’

‘I…Nothing,’ she croaked, wondering suddenly if he meant to harm her.

His hands tightened round her wrists. His jaw clenched in a spasm of tension. His eyes burned into hers.

‘I will be free of you, either by annulment or divorce, whatever is faster. And I will pay a reasonable amount to purchase your silence, with a watertight, legally binding agreement.’

Tessa’s eyes widened as she watched his lips move, heard his words. Yet they didn’t make sense. This was crazy!

‘But there’s no need. We were never married!’

‘Sto Diavolo! Of course we were married. Why else would you have my ring? Why else would you be here, angling for my money?’

She shook her head and the room swirled round her. She was almost glad of his tight grip holding her steady.

‘But the man who performed the ceremony—he wasn’t a priest. The ceremony was a sham, a ploy to help me escape.’

His eyes bored into hers and something twisted in the pit of her stomach. For an instant she thought she saw a flicker of doubt in his expression.

But then he was speaking again, slowly, clearly, almost brutally. She fought to catch her breath as his words pounded into her brain.

‘He wasn’t a priest. He was from the local town hall and he was legally empowered to marry us.’ His words were slow, deliberate and unavoidable. ‘Everything was done legally, even the witnesses for the official record.’

Tessa opened her mouth to gasp in some oxygen, to protest. But his words continued: remorseless, fantastic.

‘The marriage was legitimate,’ said Stavros Denakis. There was a bitter twist to his lips, utter distaste in his eyes.

‘We are husband and wife.’