Читать книгу His Contract Christmas Bride / Confessions Of A Pregnant Cinderella - Эбби Грин - Страница 15

THERE WAS BARELY any room for the limousine to make its way down the icy lane and Lucy’s heart was hammering as she locked the door of her cottage and made her way towards the luxury car. She looked around at the leafless trees and frosty bushes as if committing them to memory one last time—because who knew when she would be back?

Inadvertently she cracked through an icy puddle and mud sloshed onto her newly polished boots as Drakon’s chauffeur opened the door of the car, her tentative smile being met with nothing more than a deferential nod. As she slid onto the back seat she could feel her anxiety grow and the doubts which had been bugging her for days threatened to overwhelm her. She thought about the way Drakon had kissed her and the way her body had responded so hungrily. She thought about his track record with women and her own miserable tally of just one lover. She thought about how detached and indifferent he could seem, except when engaged in some form of sensual contact and a very real fear washed over her as she realised she was entering territory which was completely alien to her.

You don’t have to do this, she told herself. It’s not too late to pull out. Nobody’s forcing you to become the Greek tycoon’s wife. If he can’t get you to look after his orphaned nephew then his money will buy him the best care in the world. It isn’t your responsibility.

For a split second she thought about jumping out of the car. About rushing back to the sanctuary of her cottage and emailing Drakon to tell him she couldn’t go through with it. But then the limousine’s powerful engine fired into life and they were on their way to London and suddenly it was too late for Lucy to change her mind. And wasn’t the truth of it that deep down she didn’t want to, for all kinds of reasons? It certainly wasn’t the lure of the Greek tycoon’s glamorous lifestyle which was calling to her. She’d seen enough rich boys at the boarding school where her mother had worked to know that money certainly didn’t come with a guarantee of happiness. The thought of having a baby and a family of her own was the most powerful motivator, of course it was—but there was something else, too. Something which was much more intangible, and that was the way Drakon made her feel whenever he touched her. As if she were real. As if she were capable of things she’d never imagined she could do. It was a heady feeling but it was tinged with a danger she didn’t quite yet understand.

All through the journey to the capital, she tried to relax, trying her best to keep her boots from smearing mud on the pristine leather interior. Not for the first time she wondered what had happened to one of her suede moccasins, which had mysteriously gone missing—and it was something of a relief to be able to think about something unconnected to Drakon as she tried to work out exactly what had happened to it. Once she had exhausted all possibilities she tried to concentrate on the landscape which was rushing past the tinted windows, but her busy thoughts ensured that most of what she saw remained a blur until they reached the centre of London. And that was when Lucy blinked in surprise, feeling as if she’d emerged from her countryside bubble to arrive in a city she scarcely recognised.

Because Christmas was all around and it was as if the entire city had been taken over by Disney. The big stores were shiny with tinsel and glitter and fake snow. Red-clothed Santas with fluffy white beards rocked manically as little children pressed their noses against the plate-glass windows. Past the giant tree on Trafalgar Square the luxury car purred and when they stopped at some traffic lights, Lucy opened one of the windows slightly so she could hear the carol singers who were collecting money for the homeless. Her heart clenched as she registered the first notes of ‘Silent Night’ because it always reminded her of her brother, and quickly she pressed the button so that the electric window floated up to blot out the nostalgic carol. Instead she focussed on the crowds of people who all seemed to be on a mission, hell-bent on buying gifts even though there were several weeks left until the big day.

There were plenty of things Lucy liked about Christmas. The lights. The colours. The music. The way usually inhibited people went out of their way to smile and say hello. She just didn’t like the way it made her feel, because it seemed to emphasise all the things she didn’t have. It was a time when you could feel extra-lonely if you lived on your own because most people seemed to have somebody, while she had nobody. It was when she most missed having a family. When she found herself feeling emotionally vulnerable—which wasn’t a particularly nice sensation. Usually she tucked herself away with a large supply of chocolate and sobbed her way through just about every corny film which was showing on TV.

But this year was going to be different. Her teeth pressed down hard on her bottom lip and she gnawed away at it. And how. She had a wedding to organise and—this was the bit she still couldn’t get her head around—she was going to be a Christmas bride. At least, that was the plan—although nothing had been arranged just yet, which was making the thought of marrying Drakon seem even more surreal than it already was. Excitement and dread flooded through her, yet the truth was that, despite her misgivings about becoming the Greek tycoon’s wife, she had stumbled at the first hurdle. She had fallen in love with his orphaned nephew.

Her throat thickened as she remembered meeting the tiny baby—a meeting on which everything had hinged. She had insisted on Drakon being absent. Had she been afraid he would influence her? That he would distract her with his powerful presence and remind her of how much she still wanted him? She had expected objections from the powerful tycoon. She’d imagined he might wish to observe her first contact with his tiny nephew as a kind of interactive job interview, but to her surprise he had agreed to stay away. She’d been jittery with nerves—because the thought of holding a baby again after so long had thrown up all kinds of complicated emotions. Alone, she had waited in one of the reception rooms of Drakon’s vast London apartment until the nanny had appeared with a snowy white bundle in her arms. Greek-born Sofia must have been in her fifties, though her step was spritely as she carried the baby towards Lucy.

And Lucy remembered the compassion which had washed over her as she’d stared down at Xander’s tiny head and it had been pure instinct which had made her extend her arms so that she could cradle the infant close to her racing heart. She had been prepared for the pain which had speared through her at the thought that she would never hold a child of her own like this, but not for the instant bonding which had followed. Had it been provoked by tenderness for one who had lost so much at such an early age, or by the tiny starfish hand which had clutched her extended finger and melted her heart?

She had asked if she could give the baby his bottle and then cuddled him until he had fallen asleep. And soon after Sofia had taken Xander back to the nursery, Lucy’s telephone had rung, as if it had been programmed to do so.

‘Well?’

Drakon’s question had been terse and to the point and there had seemed little point in prevaricating. Why pretend that this was anything other than a cold-blooded business arrangement?

‘Yes.’ Lucy’s voice had been low but unfaltering. ‘I will be your wife.’

‘Good.’ There was a pause. ‘In which case, you need to pack a case and I’ll send a car to collect you. Be ready tomorrow morning.’

‘So soon?’

‘What’s the point of waiting, Lucy? Delay will serve little purpose.’

‘But I’ve got three cocktail parties next week for Caro’s Canapés which I’m booked to work at.’

‘Leave that to me. I will arrange a suitable replacement.’ His voice had dipped to become a murmured caress. ‘I intend for you to become my wife as quickly as possible and I think we both know the reason for that.’

Lucy had opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again. Because didn’t she want that too? Wasn’t there a tiny part of her which worried that if they left it too long, Drakon might suddenly change his mind and realise that it was a completely preposterous idea to marry someone like her? And wasn’t it crazy to realise how gutted she would be if that were the case? ‘No, tomorrow sounds absolutely fine,’ she said compliantly.

Which was why she was now on her way to Drakon’s Mayfair apartment and her brand-new life. Trying not to feel like Cinderella as she perched on the edge of the limousine’s soft leather seat and attempted to keep her muddy boots elevated.

Her heart was pounding as they skirted Hyde Park and drove towards the imposing modern block in Mayfair, which commanded a prime view of the city’s largest park. Lucy peered out of the window, her heart missing a beat as she saw Drakon’s imposing figure imprinted darkly against the glittering windows of the block. She blinked in surprise. He was waiting, she realised. Waiting for her?

He seemed lost in thought and hadn’t noticed the car, giving Lucy the opportunity to study him unobserved. She thought that seeing him standing on the street made him seem even more of a stranger than he already was. She noticed a blonde wearing dark glasses and a fur coat do a double-take as she walked past him with a tiny white dog trotting on a red lead, though unfortunately the dog chose that precise moment to cock its little leg against a lamppost. Yet wasn’t that the type of sleek woman he should have selected as his wife? Lucy wondered painfully, trying and failing not to drink him in with her hungry gaze.

On the cold winter day, he was dressed entirely in black and the effect was to make him dominate his surroundings even more than usual. The inky overcoat echoed the dark gleam of his eyes but his mouth was hard and unsmiling. He’d had his hair cut and the rock-star strands were now neatly trimmed in a style which seemed to emphasise all his olive-skinned beauty. Suddenly she realised he could make her blood sing even from this distance away, although the day was so cold and wintry. Being around him was like having a fever, she thought, clasping her fingers together so tightly that the knuckles cracked.

Some sort of notification must have gone off, for he slid his phone from his inside pocket and glanced down at it, then narrowed his black eyes to focus on the approaching limousine. Had he been forewarned that she was on her way, perhaps by his taciturn driver? In desperation, Lucy glanced down to see that her hands were shaking and a sudden shiver of trepidation whispered over her skin before she dared lift her head to meet his gaze. Was she imagining the faint flash of disapproval in his eyes as the car purred to a halt and he moved forward to open the door for her?

A cold gust of wind whipped through her as she stepped onto the pavement, acutely aware of the fact that her best coat was looking decidedly threadbare and that, although she’d spent an hour last night buffing up her boots, their newfound shine didn’t hide the fact that they were old. She’d tried to do her best with her appearance but her resources were limited and even if they hadn’t been—what did a poor girl wear when she was about to move in with her billionaire fiancé? She felt like diving back into the car and begging the driver to take her home, but somehow she managed to scrabble together a memory—an important thing she’d learnt on her very first day on the wards as a student nurse. And afterwards, whenever her mother had sunk into one of her deep depressions and Lucy had attempted to help her spirits up. Keep it positive. Look on the bright side.

‘So,’ she said brightly, tilting her chin upwards and managing a faint reproduction of a smile. ‘Here I am.’

Yes. Here she was. Drakon tensed as he felt a rush of something he didn’t recognise. Was it incredulity that he’d selected this woman to be his bride when she couldn’t have looked like a more unlikely candidate if she’d tried? But he’d had no choice. And wasn’t that the story of his life? he reminded himself grimly. That unwanted responsibilities were always waiting in the shadows to grab at him and to direct his life onto a path he had never intended...

Her big blue eyes were looking at him uncertainly and something made him dip his head to brush his lips over hers in a fleeting kiss, amused by her instinctive intake of breath and the sudden confusion of her expression, as if she hadn’t been expecting him to embrace her so publicly. In truth, he hadn’t been expecting it himself, but he found himself turned on by the fact she wasn’t wearing any make-up and by the provocative tremble of her lips. Maybe he should take her inside and kiss her a little more thoroughly, so that she would lose that rather unflattering look of apprehension and replace it with one of passion instead.

‘Let’s go inside,’ he said abruptly. Drawing away, he ushered her into the luxury complex, past the security guard who was regarding her with open curiosity.

‘What about my suitcase?’ she was saying as they reached the elevator and the doors slid open.

‘What about it?’

‘I’ve left it in the car.’

‘The driver will bring it inside shortly. You don’t have to worry about things like that any more, Lucy.’ Rather impatiently, he pressed the button. ‘You’ll find my staff will deal with the more humdrum elements of your life from now on and you won’t have to bother with logistics. So why don’t you just concentrate on getting to know one of your new homes?’

‘One of them?’ she affirmed breathlessly.

The wave of his hand was careless. Sometimes he forgot that the extent of his wealth was remarkable to most people and he supposed he should be grateful that his new fiancée hadn’t already tallied up all his properties with greedy anticipation. ‘I have homes in New York and Athens as well as this one,’ he drawled. My Greek island villa you have already seen, of course.’

‘Of course,’ she said.

He watched as she fixed her eyes imploringly on the bright red arrow indicating their progress towards his penthouse apartment, as if she was finding the confined space in the elevator claustrophobic. You and me both, he thought unwillingly, his attention drawn to the curves of her body, which her thin grey coat couldn’t quite disguise. He could feel the pump of his heart and the throb at his groin and wondered whether he should rid himself of some of the frustration which had been building up inside him for days now. But thoughts of seduction were vanquished by the words which burst from her lips almost as if she hadn’t planned to say them, her blue eyes suddenly darkening so that they looked as blue as a Grecian sea.

‘I wasn’t...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘To be honest I wasn’t expecting to see you until this evening. I thought you’d be working.’

Surely that wasn’t disappointment he could hear in her soft English voice? A flicker of a smile touched the edges of Drakon’s lips. Maybe there was more fire to Lucy Phillips than he had initially given her credit for. ‘I had a rare window in my diary and I thought it might be less daunting if I was here to greet you myself,’ he explained as the elevator reached the penthouse and the doors slid open.

‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Make the most of it. I’m not usually known for my kindness,’ he informed her drily. ‘Come on in.’

Obediently, she followed him into the reception room, and he thought how much she resembled a new member of staff as she stood nervously in the centre of his modern London apartment with its bird’s-eye view over the park. But in a way, that was exactly what she was. As his wife, she would be fulfilling her prescribed role just as adequately as one of his chefs, or drivers, or housekeepers. And wasn’t her trepidation one of the reasons he had chosen to marry her? She was both compliant and inexperienced and because of that he could mould her into the kind of spouse he wanted her to be, just as he would train up a new assistant.

‘It’s huge,’ she commented.

‘But you’ve been here before. When you met Xander.’

‘Yes. That’s right. But I only saw the nursery areas. I had no idea there was this other huge section.’ She looked around, cocking her head to one side as if listening for something. ‘Where is Xander?’

Drakon still wasn’t used to having the baby around and he frowned, trying to remember. ‘Sofia has taken him to the doctor for some sort of routine check. At least, I think that’s what she said.’

She sucked in a deep breath. ‘You didn’t consider it might be better if I could have gone along as well? If I’m to be his, well, his...mother.’

Something unknown clutched at Drakon’s heart like a vice. Was it anger that his brother should have treated his son with such a failure of care and cast him into the unwanted role of father? Or fear that he would be incapable of giving this child any true affection, as his own father had been unable to give him? With an effort, he pushed the bitter memories away—for what good would they serve him now?

‘There will be plenty of time for you to play happy families, Lucy. First things first. Let me show you around properly and then I have a surprise for you.’

‘I’m not crazy about surprises,’ she warned him lightly.

‘I think you’ll like this one,’ he promised.

Lucy thought how arrogant he sounded. Did that mean she was going to have to pretend? To smooth the way for their future marriage by showing him gratitude at all times? Would that be the grown-up way to proceed?

She began to follow him through the huge apartment, trying and failing to remember the precise configuration of the rooms. But she would quickly learn where everything was, she reassured herself—despite the fact that the entire ground floor of her riverside cottage would have fitted into one of the en suite bathrooms! One of the vast reception rooms led into a book-lined study, which looked more like a public library and contained leather-bound volumes in both English and Greek. There was an enormous kitchen with an adjoining dining room, three big en suite bedrooms on one side of the wide corridor, as well as the nursery suite on the other, which was completely self-contained.

‘I’ve given you your own bedroom,’ he said as his footsteps halted. ‘I decided it would be more appropriate if we slept apart until the wedding. Something befitting the status of my relatively innocent fiancée.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘That doesn’t mean we cannot be intimate or imaginative, of course.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’ll be right next door,’ he informed her. ‘It will be like a throwback to a different age. I cannot tell you how much the novelty of that appeals to me, Lucy.’

Lucy’s breasts had grown heavy at his provocative words but her erotic recall was forgotten the moment he pushed open the bedroom door. Her lips fell open but she barely noticed the amazing view or huge bed, or the superb painting of a tiny fishing village which looked suspiciously like the one on his private island. All she could see were the piles of clothes which were everywhere, making the room look more like the changing room of an upmarket department store than a bedroom. There were sleek dresses hanging in front of the built-in cupboards and a gorgeous plum-coloured coat with a velvet collar. One of the cupboards was open and inside she could see colour-coordinated lines of beautiful silky shirts, and skirts which varied from pencil to flounce. Further along the rail were more casual clothes—cashmere sweaters which bore little resemblance to her own hand-knits and denim jeans which she was doubtful she’d be able to slide over her curvy hips. This must be the surprise he’d been talking about.

‘I hope you like them,’ Drakon said as she continued to stare at it all in silence.

Lucy forced herself to say something dutiful which wouldn’t sound ungrateful, because there was no denying he must have gone to a lot of trouble. ‘They’re gorgeous. Did you—?’

‘Actually, my partner chose them.’

‘Your partner?’ she questioned blankly and, although it was unconscious sexism on her part, she instantly imagined some strapping Greek male walking into a store waving a charge card.

‘Amy,’ he supplied, clearly oblivious to the sudden uncertainty in her voice. ‘We’ve worked together for years.’

She wondered if he was aware of the emotional impact of his words, or of the exact way he’d phrased them—because didn’t his relationship with his partner sound way more intimate and close than the one he had with her? Lucy could feel her heart punching against her chest in a way which was making her feel almost dizzy. ‘I see. And does... Amy choose all your girlfriends’ clothes for you?’

‘Never. But then I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I knew your wardrobe was insufficiently versatile to be able to cope with your new role as my wife,’ he said, clearly seeking diplomatic words to take the sting out of his statement. ‘And I thought you’d be too busy packing to have the time to hit the shops.’

Was that so? Or just that he thought she would fail miserably at the task? That her lack of experience—and money—meant she’d be incapable of selecting her own clothes? But Lucy tried to be positive and take Drakon at his word. She had to be, or this simply wasn’t going to work. And she would never have chosen any of these exquisite clothes—not in a million years. She wouldn’t have dared purchase items which individually probably cost more than she earned in a month. The question was whether she’d be able to change or return any without embarrassment if they turned out not to fit.

On a nearby chest she could see a deep drawer which was partially open and, sucking in a breath, she walked over and pulled it wide open to find it filled with the most provocative lingerie imaginable. Sexy thong panties were lined up beside balcony bras. Silk stockings and lacy suspender belts lay side by side and Lucy blinked at them in disbelief, sudden ice rippling down her spine. ‘Please don’t tell me your partner choose these?’

He shook his head and laughed. ‘Of course not. I bought these myself. It happens to be the most enjoyable shopping trip I’ve done in years, if you must know. Do you like them?’

Lucy continued to stare at them as she considered his question. On the one hand, of course she did. This was the kind of underwear she’d never imagined herself wearing, not in her wildest dreams. It was impossible not to like such exquisitely made garments, nor to imagine the amount of work which must have gone into making them, but... She turned to him, blinking her eyes rapidly. ‘How on earth did you know my size?’

He shrugged. ‘I guessed.’

‘You guessed,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Because you have such a comprehensive knowledge of a woman’s body that you instinctively know what size bra she wears?’

‘I’m in the ship-building industry, Lucy. Learning about dimensions comes with the territory.’ A smile curved the edges of his sensual mouth. ‘The shoes were a little more difficult.’

‘The shoes?’ she questioned blankly as the expansive wave of his hand indicated rows of high-heeled shoes and butter-soft leather boots she hadn’t even noticed before. She wondered what on earth he was doing as he bent down to retrieve something from underneath the bed, and was momentarily taken aback when he produced a suede moccasin and waved it in the air—like a magician plucking a rabbit from a top hat. ‘That’s my shoe!’ she declared.

‘I know.’ He gave slow smile. ‘I picked it up from that pile by your front door so I could get your size right, on the day I asked you to marry me. It isn’t really a winter shoe, so I didn’t think you’d notice it had gone.’

It took a couple of seconds before Lucy could bring herself to speak and when she did her words came spitting out like bullets. ‘I did notice, as it happens. I don’t actually own enough pairs of shoes not to realise when one goes missing.’ She glared at him, still not quite believing what he’d just told her. ‘So let me get this straight. You thought you’d go ahead with some modern-day enactment of Cinderella’s slipper and I’m supposed to coo with delight in response?’

‘I certainly had hoped for something a little more enthusiastic than your current reaction,’ he offered drily.

‘Well, please don’t bother in future. Like I said, I’m not the biggest fan of surprises. In fact, don’t bother with—’

But her sentence was destined never to be completed because Drakon had pulled her into his arms and was kissing her. Kissing her so thoroughly that all the breath left her lungs. And Lucy let him. No, that wasn’t quite true. She actively encouraged him. Was it lack of oxygen which made her so instantly yielding? Which made her gasp out a note of breathless approval as his mouth roved hungrily over hers, before darting her tongue into his mouth as if it were a weapon? Or was it simply that she was so incensed by what he’d done—by his arrogance and control—that she felt as if she’d been taken over by a different kind of desire? So that very quickly the kiss became something it had never been on Prasinisos. This wasn’t soft and searching but punishing, and hard. It was driven by frustration—that he had been so high-handed about overhauling her appearance and given someone she’d never met carte blanche to play such a key role in changing it. But there was physical frustration, too, gnawing away inside her like some alien creature she had no idea how to handle. She wondered if sex would release some of the tight frustration which was coiling inside her like a compressed spring. Whether now was the time to tell him she didn’t want his partner buying her clothes for her. That she wasn’t just some kind of doll who could be dressed up for his approval before she was permitted to be seen in public.

‘I don’t know why we’re fighting about clothes, Lucy,’ he said unevenly as they broke away to drag oxygen into their air-starved lungs. ‘Since my expressed preference is to see you not wearing anything at all.’

And wasn’t it pathetic how thrilled she was to hear that husky compliment? As if she was only just beginning to realise that, despite her somewhat homely appearance and complete lack of fashion sense, Drakon Konstantinou really did fancy her. But that was one of the reasons she was here, Lucy reminded herself. Her midwifery training wouldn’t mean a thing without the white-hot chemistry which seemed to combust whenever they touched.

She felt blindsided by the sense of something which, having been awoken, now needed urgently to be fed. Was that why she let him kiss her again and to deepen it with provocative intimacy, so that she moaned softly into his mouth? And something about that moan made him lever her up against the wall, his face dark and inscrutable as he looked down at her. She could sense the tension which was making his powerful body seem as tight as a strung bow and, where they were touching, her skin felt as if it were on fire.

His fingers were unbuttoning her grey coat and unashamedly roving beneath her sweater and when he jutted his hips forward like that, she could feel the hard column of his erection pressing against her. Beneath her thick denim jeans the molten slick of desire made itself known and Lucy longed for him to touch her there. His fingers were whispering over the cool skin of her torso, moving down towards the top button of her jeans, and she shivered as he popped it open then slid her zip down with a dexterity which suggested he must have undressed millions of women before.

But suddenly Lucy saw herself as an outside observer might see her—all windswept and rumpled with the Greek tycoon’s fingers burrowing their way inexorably towards her panties. Why, she hadn’t even taken her coat off! She’d only been in his apartment for ten minutes and all they’d done was to fight and kiss and now he was about to take it one step further. If she didn’t put a halt to this then before she knew it, she would be pressed up against that wall with Drakon thrusting deep inside her.

She pressed her hand against his chest, feeling the powerful pound of his heart beneath her palm. ‘We need to stop this right now.’

‘Oh, Lucy. That’s not the message I was getting a moment ago,’ he drawled.

Well, it’s the m-message you’re getting now,’ she said, unable to iron the tremble from her voice. ‘I need to freshen up before Sofia comes back with the baby and to...’

‘To what?’ he questioned mockingly as her words tailed off.

Lips pressed together, she gave him a determined smile. ‘To unpack my case and settle in. And to be honest, Drakon...’ She hesitated. ‘I think you’re right about having separate rooms, but let’s do it properly, shall we—with no sneaking around the corridors at midnight? Maybe we should wait until we’re married until we have...’’

‘Sex?’ he supplied, his eyebrows arching in disbelief. ‘Is that what you’re trying to say?’

She could feel hot colour flooding her cheeks and, although she realised she could be accused of having double standards, wasn’t it better this way? Because what if her earlier doubts came true and she drove him crazy—wouldn’t it be easier to draw a line under the whole thing if they hadn’t become lovers? Easier to walk away if she hadn’t had a second distracting taste of physical intimacy? And it would do Drakon good to demonstrate that he wasn’t the one making all the rules, and she wasn’t going to be totally submissive. To show him that she might have agreed to this marriage of convenience but that didn’t make her into some sort of puppet.

‘That’s exactly what I’m trying to say,’ she agreed primly.

Still he waited, as if she was going to suddenly turn around and tell him she was joking—as if no woman in her right mind would refuse the opportunity to fall into bed with him at the earliest opportunity.

And Lucy wouldn’t have been human if she hadn’t enjoyed the brief look of disbelief which flashed from Drakon’s ebony eyes when he realised she meant every word she said.