Читать книгу Modern Romance July 2019 Books 5-8 - Jane Porter - Страница 19

DAMEN GRIPPED THE railing tightly, and leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the water, watching the slow churn of the wake and where the water foamed white.

He was tired, and frustrated.

He truly wanted to make things smoother, but he didn’t know how to be this person she wanted him to be.

Kassiani didn’t understand that his past wasn’t a charming fairy tale. Yes, he was self-made, but the climb up had been horrendous. He’d accomplished huge things because he had no choice. If he didn’t become someone powerful, someone significant, he would have cracked and shattered.

If he hadn’t channeled his fury, if he hadn’t been bent on revenge, he might have been swallowed by his rage and pain.

Instead he channeled it, over and over until it became a discipline—head down, mouth shut, work harder.

Head down, mouth shut, work miracles.

Head down, mouth shut, change the world.

Change the world, or at least those in his sphere who were like him—helpless, dependent—so that poor people without choices and options didn’t have to be helpless and dependent. And his efforts were making a difference. His efforts had already changed the future for people on Adras, especially for young girls and women who aspired to be more. And his success meant they didn’t have to ever be in his position—trapped, cornered, without options.

But knowing that he’d accomplished that didn’t ease how unsettled he felt right now.

Damen thrived on challenge and success. He never accepted less than victory. But Kassiani’s claim earlier today that she was little more than a blow-up doll rankled.

No, he wasn’t comfortable with emotions, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying. Because he was trying. It’s why he searched her out when she was at the pool, and why he’d invited her to dinner, and why he’d asked Chef to make a special meal. He wanted to try to smooth things over. He wanted to try to make things calmer, but if Kassiani truly wanted intimacy, then she needed to give him time. She wasn’t going to get more from him by squeezing him. If she truly wanted more, she needed to push less.

* * *

Kassiani sat back down after Damen stepped outside, shoulders slumping, fear enveloping her.

She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know how to be the wife he wanted. She only knew how to be herself—a misfit.

Perhaps if she had more confidence she could trust that everything would be okay, but she had no experience to judge this relationship by. It was her only relationship and she was making such a mess of it.

It would be so much easier if she cared less.

It would be so much better if she didn’t want to make him happy.

But she did. He was difficult and demanding but he was also gorgeous and fascinating and maddening and addictive. He entered the room and she felt something inside her light up. When she didn’t see him she felt restless and incomplete until she was back together with him.

And maybe part of her anxiety was because she never had been in a relationship before. Maybe she didn’t know what relationships were like. Maybe she was the problem...she with all her fears and insecurities, insecurity from never being wanted, never being desirable, never being good enough for even your own family.

“You didn’t go.” Damen’s deep low voice came from the glass door.

She straightened quickly, hoping she didn’t look as woebegone as she felt. “That seemed too easy. Apparently I enjoy conflict more than I should.”

She was rewarded with a faint smile. Creases fanned from his eyes. “I think you do like to poke the bear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It takes two. I’m not one to back away from a good fight.”

“Have you ever been in a fight? A real fight?”

“Of course.”

“Are you a good fighter?”

“I win more than I lose.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said softly, feeling a perverse thrill that he could handle himself so adroitly in a fight. “My brother, Barnabas, doesn’t win many. I remember my dad once telling him only fools start fights they can’t win.”

“So your brother has given up fighting?”

“He has people now who manage those situations. He calls them security, but honestly, they’re more babysitters than anything else.” She looked up at Damen, feeling terribly uncertain about everything. “I don’t mean to be difficult. Apparently I just am.”

Damen smiled faintly. “You’re not that difficult. You are who you are, and I like you.”

Some of the tension in her chest eased. “You do?”

“You’re my wife.” He must have seen her disappointment because he shook his head, his expression rueful. “I don’t have to like you. There was nothing in the agreement saying we had to like each other. I like you because I do.” One of his dark eyebrows lifted. “Or do you want to argue about that, too?”

She shook her head swiftly. “No. Should we do something else?”

The air suddenly felt electric and he gave her a slow, scorching look. “I can think of a thing or two,” he said lazily. “But before I make you dessert, I think we should have some dinner. Chef has set a table for us upstairs in the wine bar. Care to join me?”

“Yes.” She rose, smiling. “Absolutely.”

Their footsteps were muffled by the carpeted curving staircase in the yacht’s stairwell.

The enormous venetian glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, and descended midway down the first flight of stairs, filling the stairwell with glorious gold-and-rose light. The rest of the yacht’s interior was sleek with mahogany walls and gleaming wood and chrome railings, and for a moment Kassiani allowed herself to be distracted by the stunning glass artistry and how the golden base covered with countless rose, violet and red glass flowers reflected glittering light onto the adjacent walls and banister railings, before she caught a glimpse of her husband’s even more striking profile.

Butterflies filled her tummy and her pulse did a jagged little dance. She was so attracted to him, and found him ridiculously compelling.

He caught her side-glance and gave her a faint smile. “What are you thinking?”

“Just that you are deliciously handsome.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t. Women must fall all over themselves trying to get close to you.”

Her words had the wrong reaction. His brow darkened and his features hardened. “Some women only want what they can’t have,” he said. “And I don’t care about any other woman. Just you. You are my wife, and I will be loyal to you.” They’d paused at the top of the stairs, and he lifted her chin, his gray gaze holding hers. “I don’t have a mistress now. I won’t take another mistress again. There won’t be any affairs. You are my wife and I promise you my fidelity. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Good. Because I expect the same of you.”

“Of course,” she answered, somewhat perplexed by how serious he’d become. But then, Damen was serious. He was clearly scarred from a past she didn’t yet understand.

* * *

Dinner was delicious, with course after course, from shrimp saganaki to scallops and pasta. Kassiani ate until she couldn’t take another bite, and then coffee and dessert were served, a gorgeous Greek custard named galaktoboureko that melted in her mouth.

Finally she truly was finished and she glanced up to discover Damen watching her.

The dark intensity in his gaze made the air catch in her throat and the blood heat in her veins. Just a look from him and she went hot and molten. “What are you thinking?” she asked, her voice dropping, growing husky.

“I think you know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I’m sick of words,” he said.

She flashed a provocative smile. “And I can’t get enough.”

He made a low rough sound that made her breasts tighten and her skin tingle. “If you’re not careful I will have you on your knees worshipping me,” he growled.

Her nipples hardened and heat rushed through her, making her prickle and ache. “I’d never say no to you.”

The air thickened, heavy with desire. Damen pushed away from his seat at the table, and approached her. “Have I told you that you’re not as demure as you look?”

“I do believe you’ve told me I’m not demure at all.”

“Ah.” He hit a button adjacent to the bar and the curtains across the wine bar closed. He pressed another button and she heard a soft click, as the door locked.

“No security cameras here?” she asked.

“I’ve already taken care of that.” He took a step away from the bar, pointing to the marble floor. “Come here.”

She rose from the couch and crossed the room, going to stand before him. Lifting her chin, she gazed up at him, her eyebrow arching.

“Closer,” he murmured.

Her pulse raced and she took a step closer. They were now practically touching. Again she looked him in the eye, and his upper lip curled. And then he reached for her, and turned her around to unzip her delicate chiffon gown, slipping the sleeves from her shoulders to allow the gown to puddle at her feet, revealing her black lace bustier and garter belt. He hissed a breath.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“Something sexy for you.”

His hands cupped her breasts and then shaped her waist. “Where did you get it?”

“I brought it with me from California. If you have a beautiful dress, you should wear beautiful undergarments, don’t you think?”

“I do,” he answered almost reverently, stroking her hips and then the curve of her buttocks. His fingers slipped between the garter belt, and her skin. “You are testing my control.”

“And you do hate that,” she teased, unbuttoning his shirt, before reaching for his belt, and then unfastening his trousers.

Naked, he swung her into his arms and carried her to the low dark leather couch in the corner, the leather soft and supple as he laid her on her back.

For a long moment he just looked at her, and then he caught her hands in one of his and raised them over her head, pinning them to the leather. With his other hand he explored her curves, and then under the black satin of her panty to the damp heat between her legs. “So wet,” he murmured, finding her delicate nub and making her shudder with pleasure.

He straddled her hips, his shaft hard and heavy against her belly. “What do you want?”

“You.”

He needed both hands to rip the panty in half, and then he moved down her body to kiss her where she was so warm and wet. He was so good with his hands and mouth that she climaxed far too quickly, and then he shifted his weight, and she welcomed him back into her body, where he seemed to be a perfect fit.

* * *

They made love on the wine room’s leather couch, and then again later in the master bedroom. It was past midnight now, and Kassiani was trying to decide if she should return to her room, or stay put for the night.

“Stay here,” he said gruffly. “I can’t have my wife running out of the room after we make love.”

“You run out of the room.”

“I don’t run. I never run.”

“But you do leave.”

“I can’t spend the night with anyone. I don’t sleep when in bed with someone else. It’s not personal. I promise you.”

“Even as a boy?”

“Kass,” he growled.

She snuggled closer. “Okay, no more probing questions tonight.” She closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his hand as he stroked her back and her hip. She wished he would stay with her all night. She so very much liked it when they were together, like this. After sex he was so calm and relaxed. It was almost as if he was a different man.

She was almost asleep when she heard him ask abruptly, “So how much money do you have?”

Kassiani frowned sleepily, trying to figure out what he meant. And then she recalled the conversation he was referring to and tried to shrug it away now. “Not enough to rule the world, but enough to have a little nest egg should I need to take care of myself.”

“You won’t ever need to do that. It’s my job to take care of you,” he said after a moment. “Just as it’s my job to protect you. I am responsible for you and the family—”

“We don’t have a family yet.”

“But we will. And you’ll be a good mother.”

“And you’ll be a good father, too,” she said.

He stiffened. “Don’t say that. Friends are supposed to be honest. We’re supposed to be honest with each other, aren’t we?”

“I think you will be a good father. I think you’ll learn to open up more—”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

“I’m an optimist.” She pressed her fist to his chest. “And I’m not giving up on you. I’m determined to get to know you. You don’t talk about your past. You don’t talk about your family. You don’t talk about anything personal, or important, with me. Why can’t you let me in a little bit? How would it hurt?”

“I don’t like the past. I like the future. It is the future that interests me.”

“I respect that, I do, but can’t you see that you’re a mystery to me? I know virtually nothing about you, whereas you know everything about me and my family—” She broke off, grimacing. “Well, not me, per se, but the Dukas family.”

“So what do you want? To tour my village? See the house where I was born?”

“Yes! Yes, please. Are you serious?”

He groaned. “No!”

“Why not? It would be fun. I’d love to see where you were born and raised. I’d love to visit the village and see the houses that you rent to the tourists and the olive press—”

“Slow down.” He kissed her, to stop the stream of words. The kiss grew heated, and she was breathless by the time he lifted his head.

His black brows tugged into a line and, frowning, he pushed back her long hair from her face, tucking the strands behind one ear and then the other. “I wasn’t being serious, kitten, no, but is that really what you want to do on our honeymoon? Visit Adras? Rather than Crete or Santorini?”

“Yes. It would be amazing.”

“It’s a very small island, and very rustic.”

“All the better.”

“You’re going to be disappointed.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

* * *

It took a day of sailing but by evening they would reach Adras.

Kassiani was excited, ready to see where Damen came from and ready to be part of his real world. She passed the afternoon peppering Damen with questions about his childhood on Adras. She noticed he was selective in which questions he answered. Sometimes he avoided saying anything at all and she’d let it slide at first but now they were within an hour of anchoring at Adras and she still knew virtually nothing about his family.

“Come on,” she begged, turning over on her lounge chair on the sundeck, “tell me something about your parents. Are they going to be there when we get off the boat? Do they still live on Adras? Are they even alive?”

He sighed, and dragged his chair out of the bright hot sun and into the shade. “My father passed ten years ago, but my mother still lives in the village.”

“What is the village name?”

“It’s simply Town, or Adras Town.”

“We won’t be staying in the village, though?”

“No, we’ll be at my villa. But I have a car and we can use that to drive around, so it’s not as if you won’t have a chance to go to town.”

“Does everyone in the town know you’re married?”

“Yes. Although some might still think I’ve married Elexis.”

She fell silent, and tried to ignore the anxiety his words created.

“I can see the wheels turning,” he said. “What are you thinking right now?”

Kassiani glanced down at the plain gold band he’d put on her finger during the ceremony nearly a week ago. It was far too large but at least it hadn’t been worn by her sister. “Sometimes I forget you were ever supposed to marry Elexis.”

He must have followed her gaze because he said, “As I said before, we’ll get you a proper ring, with a big stone, when we return to Athens.”

“I don’t need a big stone. This is fine. This is mine.”

“Your sister had—”

“Can we not discuss Elexis?” she interrupted tautly. “I realize it’s natural to mention her but she’s not my favorite person right now.”

“Right now, or ever?”

She stared at Damen, her gaze searching. A lengthy silence followed. “We’ve never been close, no.”

“Are you jealous of her?”

“We’re four years apart and we have always had different interests, as well as different values. I admire her in many ways—she is the person I could never be—but it wasn’t easy growing up in her shadow.”

“I would think it’s the other way around. It can’t be easy being the big sister to a brilliant, precocious younger sister. I am sure she has had to struggle to find a way to be successful as herself.”

“She’s stunning. People love looking at her.”

His broad shoulders twisted. “And I love looking at you.”

Heat bloomed within her, heat and a whisper of hope that one day there would be more between them than just the physical. That there would be a relationship. Feelings. Love.

Kassiani abruptly stopped herself.

She couldn’t let herself go there, not yet, because he certainly wasn’t there. But would he ever be able to love her? Would he ever be able to give her what she needed?

She had things.

She needed love.

Heart aching, she forced her attention to other topics. “I remember hearing that some of your cousins would be attending the wedding, but not your mother. She didn’t go to Athens, did she?”

“No. She doesn’t like to travel.”

“Then why not marry at the church in your village?”

“It wouldn’t be proper or convenient. There are no hotels on Adras. There would be nowhere for the reception—”

“Your villa wouldn’t be large enough?”

“The church wedding is important, but our family church in the village is humble. And the locals would be uncomfortable with the outsiders flooding the town. My mother, especially, would be uncomfortable with the attention. Far better to marry in Athens and keep that part of my life separate from my mother and those who know her.”

“So she wasn’t hurt by being excluded?”

“I offered to fly her in, she said no. I offered to send the boat for her. She said no. She doesn’t like to be out of her element, and I can respect that. Why make her unhappy? She is a simple woman. There is no room in her life for wealthy or pretentious people.”

“So you only see her when you return home?”

“Yes.”

“And when was the last time you returned home?”

“To Adras?” He paused. “Christmas.” Then he shook his head. “Actually, the Christmas year before last. It’s been a while.”

Almost sixteen months. Kass chose her words carefully. “You will introduce me to her?”

“Before we leave, yes.”

“But not right away?”

“There is no rush. I would rather you settle in. Become familiar with the villa and the gardens and the estate.”

“Are you worried that your mother won’t like me?” she asked carefully, aware that most mothers did not like their daughters-in-law. Her paternal grandmother, Yia-yia, had certainly never thought Liliana—Kassiani’s model mother—was good enough for her son. From the start there had been bad blood between her grandmother and mother, and it had never improved during the marriage, either. Yia-yia had moved in only after Kassiani’s mother and grandfather were both gone. “You do not have to worry about protecting my feelings,” she added. “I will not be crushed if your mother doesn’t like me.”

“Are you truly so unlikable? Do you not expect anyone to enjoy your company?”

There was something in his tone that made her lips twist. He sounded almost affronted on her behalf.

“Would it surprise you to learn that I enjoy your company, kitten?” he added. “Or is that not allowed?”

The corners of her mouth curved, and she felt that whisper of hope return, even stronger than before. “It is allowed. I get fuzzy on the rules, but that is most definitely allowed.”

* * *

The sun was still relatively high in the sky as Damen’s yacht neared Adras. The weather remained almost unbearably perfect, and the colors of the Aegean were so clear and true it almost made Kassiani’s heart hurt. The blue overhead teased the blue of the sea, and in the distance, she could see the dark green of the groves dotting the island. For a moment Kass was reminded of California’s Napa Valley, and how the grapes rolled up and over the hills, but then the sun reflected brightly, blindly, off the water, and she was firmly back in Greece, with this intense brooding husband of hers who overwhelmed her in every possible way.

Feeling a prickle of awareness, she turned her head and discovered that Damen was watching her, and just like that, heat enveloped her, and an awareness of how he made her feel, and all the ways he pleasured her, and how easily he dissolved her defenses. Even without touching her, she felt breathless and weak. Or maybe that’s because she remembered how he held her down on the couch and claimed her last night, taking her with slow, deep thrusts before withdrawing and slowly entering her again. It had been maddening and exciting and she’d begged for him to thrust faster, but he’d held off until she was panting and writhing and trembling and only then did he finally let her come. The orgasm had been intense, and he’d held her after, and in that dreamy place between pleasure and reality, she’d felt so close to him, so much a part of him, as if they were two halves of a whole, and whole only when together.

She knew it was an arranged marriage, but the lovemaking and sexual intimacy only served to make her feel more...more of everything, both good and bad.

“We’re here,” he said, breaking her reverie.

She blinked and focused on the island, and yes, they were close. The yacht was slowing down, too, carefully approaching a narrow dock that extended out into the water.

“It must be quite deep here,” she said.

“It’s not a good swimming beach, no,” he answered. “But there is a fantastic view from the house.” He gestured above, pointing to a mass of white buildings set among the green covering the slope. “My villa and pools are just there.”

It took a little bit of time for the crew to moor the yacht, and while the crew was tying the ropes and dropping anchor, two open-air Jeeps came tearing down the mountain.

Damen offered his arm to Kassiani as they disembarked, and then thanked the staff before walking her to one of the lifted Jeeps with the large off-road tires. There was no step stool, or low sideboard to step on, and before she could even ask for help, Damen wrapped his hands around her waist, and lifted her into the vehicle.

Just the feel of him against her back, and his breath against her nape, made her breath catch and her skin sensitive.

“Could your mother please join us for dinner tonight?” Kassiani asked as he slid behind the steering wheel.

“No.”

“Or at least, could she join us for drinks?”

“No. You’ll meet her before we leave, but there is no need to introduce you right away.”

“But there is! She’s your mother, Damen. I’d like to have a good relationship with her, if possible, and it’s disrespectful of me not to reach out to her early—”

“She’s not going to be a big part of your life, Kassiani, and I’m becoming annoyed that you keep pressing the issue.”

Kass balled her hands into fists. “So it doesn’t matter what I want?” she said huskily. “It only matters what you want.”

“Discussion closed.”

She stared at him, hurt, and frustrated, and more than a little furious. What she felt didn’t matter to him. She was not a real person, or a valuable person. In his mind she was just another thing he owned...another person to command. “I’m not your employee,” she answered lowly, fiercely. “You cannot issue commands. Correction, you can, of course you can, but I don’t have to listen, or respond to them. In fact, you’ll discover I respond so much better when you treat me like an equal.”

“I am not going to do this here,” he ground out. “Not in front of my staff.”

She averted her head, angry, and furious and hurt, so hurt, so impossibly hurt, and she didn’t understand how in just a week he could make her feel so much when this was just an arranged marriage, and it was only a business deal.

Except that maybe she’d forgotten it was business.

Maybe the nights of intense lovemaking had done something to her head, and heart, because he was not a “business deal” to her. He was her husband. He was the man she wanted and needed. The man she craved. The man she...loved.

Her eyes burned and her throat ached. She’d been trying to fight the feelings, but they were just growing stronger.

“Buckle, please,” he said as he started the engine.

She did as she was told, but her heart was somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Was it possibly true? Had she inadvertently fallen in love with her husband?