Читать книгу Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife - Sun Chara - Страница 7

Could he know about—?

“Dear God, no.” Fear squeezed her heart, and her mouth felt thick with sawdust. A tremor ripped through her, and she collapsed against the wall, hyperventilating.

Julia choked down the bile rising in her throat and rushed into the bathroom. Gripping the counter, she leaned over the sink and sucked in mouthfuls of air, stemming the chills frisking her body. She twisted the faucet open, splashed water on her face and glanced in the wall-length mirror, the paleness of her skin evident even beneath her makeup.

“Michalis Leonadis.” His name fizzed between her teeth, acid on her tongue. She’d given him her heart, her body…everything, and he’d trampled on it. A whimper sounded from deep in her throat, and haunting memories flooded her mind…

“Michalis mou,” she’d called, unlocking the door of their Athens penthouse. The breathtaking view of the Aegean Sea always brought a lift to her heart and a smile to her face; but it was nothing compared to the joy bursting in her heart from the doctor’s news that she wanted to share with her husband of three months.

“Agape mou, you’re back early.” He walked from the bathroom barefoot, drying his hair with a towel, another towel tied around his hips. A dash of dark hair plastered to his sculpted chest, a sexy smile on his mouth.

Breath caught in her throat, her heart skipped, her stomach dipped.

This sexy hunk was hers. She smiled, and started to run to him.

The bedroom door opened and her step faltered, the smile wiped from her face.

“Michalis mou.” The woman giggled, tying the sash of a terry towel robe over the skimpiest of negligees. She teetered toward him on high-heeled slippers and stumbled into his arms. “I don’t think this is such a good idea, even for the honeym—”

“Apparently not,” Julia said, the words crackling from her frozen lips. She shot Michalis a lethal look. “You got caught.” Every nerve in her body twittered, and she swayed, but managed to stand her ground, her gaze darting from her husband to the other woman.

She couldn’t fathom the scene before her eyes. She blinked. Swallowed. Perhaps she’d wake up from this nightmare.

“I was going to tell you—” The words dissolved in his throat, and he narrowed his gaze, the navy flecks in his eyes darkening.

Julia staggered back a step and seized the door handle before she slithered to the carpet. Raw pain must’ve surfaced on her features, for he stepped toward her, the scent of his cologne stinging the gouge inside her.

She held up one hand, shaking her head.

“It’s not what you—” He glanced at his guest, and scrubbed his shaven cheek with his fist.

“I’m sorry,” the woman murmured, tripping back into the bedroom.

He nodded. “Julia—”

She backed away. At least it had been in the guestroom and not their bedroom…on their bed. For some perverse reason, the thought gashed her mind. A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat, and she flew out the door.

The streets of Athens buzzed with activity. Shoppers, tourists and locals sat at outside tavernas, sampling souvlaki, spanakopita while others sipped Greek coffee, Coca-Cola or ouzo, the licorice flavored liquor. Bouzouki music serenaded to the blaring of horns and irate taxi drivers gesturing out the windows at other drivers.

Laughter. Life everywhere.

But Julia felt dead…except for the life growing inside her.

Aimlessly, she wandered the narrow roads, ignoring his mobile calls and ditching the chauffeur he’d sicced on her. Somehow, she made her way past the outdoor market and to the beach. She meandered through the crowds of sunbathers to a secluded patch beneath a eucalyptus tree. Hours drifted by, and she sat there, gazing out to sea, praying for an answer. The sea breeze cooled her cheeks, and by the time the sun turned the sky into a kaleidoscope of color, the initial shock had worn off.

At last, she came to a decision and picked up his next call.

“I’m flying back from the Mykonos office,” he said, his words cool through the airwaves. “We’ll discuss it tonight.”

“What time?” she murmured, detached…numb.

“It’ll be late because—”

She hung up, sickened by his betrayal.

An hour later, she’d packed, called a cab and headed for Athens International Airport, jetting out of his life…

Now, he’d blasted back into her life in Paris, and she wondered why.

But it didn’t matter. Her wounds had healed, and Michalis Leonadis could go jump in the Mediterranean for all she cared. She crumpled his card in her hand and was about to trash it when a couple of girls burst into the ladies room, their chatter shattering her thoughts.

Julia made her exit, biting her lip. Maybe it should matter to her. Michalis Leonadis did everything with purpose. Her throat constricted and her temples throbbed. Angst stabbed. She drew in a breath and eased up. There was no way he could know. None.

But just to be sure, she rummaged in her purse for her cell and called home, her matchbox-sized one-bedroom pad. “Mrs. Knightley, I may be a bit late tonight.” A pause. “Did anyone visit today?” A sigh of relief filtered from her mouth. “No? Okay.”

Michalis Leonadis did not know her secret. And he wouldn’t know. She pressed her lips tight, but her shoulders slumped. One day she’d have to tell him … and tell Amy about her father.

But not today.

Today was about leveling the playing field. She’d go and see why he was here, why he sought her out after a year’s silence. The battle lines had been drawn…the divorce would be final when he signed the papers. And he could do that from Greece via his solicitor.

She crinkled her brow. Did he think she’d take him to the cleaners? A brittle sound broke from her lips. Her eyes misted. She wanted nothing from him except what he’d already given her.

Bashing down the emotion, she steeled her nerves and walked across the atrium, each step a lead weight. She bypassed the crystal chandeliers, the needlepoint wall-hangings, the ornate furniture, the statues, and the opulent deco of this palatial Louis XVI historic hotel…but didn’t see them.

Knowledge was power. She must stack her arsenal to trump the powerful Greek she’d married.

Her past folly. She shook her shoulders. But it would not become her present, and certainly not her future. She fumbled in her step, and a smile feathered her mouth. Her future waited at home.

A moment later, she stood outside the near empty Le Bar. The fashion trendsetters would soon be descending to the delight of the cocktail waitresses waiting for customers and subsequent tips. Julia inhaled and exhaled several puffs of air, swiped her damp palms on her thighs, flicked a stray strand of hair off her shoulders and with her head held high marched into the intimately lit lounge. The melody from the pianist wrapped around her, soothing, but then turned abrasive.

She saw him.

A trickle of moisture between her breasts, her mouth went dry. He lounged at a table in the far corner of the room with drink in hand and clicked off a call on his phone.

Her heart thudded. Memories flooded her mind. Bittersweet, and she wished…but no, he’d destroyed everything they’d shared.

Destroyed her.

At that precise moment, he glanced her way, and the blue intensity of his eyes tacked her to the spot. Shockwaves ripped through her, rocking her world anew. She ground her teeth, determined not to feel anything for this man, except indifference.

The best defense was a good offense, so she stormed across the floor to his table. He at least had the good manners to stand up.

“Julia,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice jolting her senses.

“Michalis,” she murmured, her tone cool.

For a second or two neither one of them said anything, then he mocked a cough.

Resentment gnawed her insides. Not even a hello from him. This did not bode well.

“A drink?” he offered, motioning her to sit down.

“No thank you,” she murmured, standing her ground.

He sat back down, noted her defiance and waved to the waitress. “A sparkling water with lime.”

“You’ll have to drink it, Michalis.”

He hiked a brow, and sipped his bourbon on the rocks, his dark gaze glued on her. He only ever had one drink, max, of the hard stuff. Discipline. He always wanted to be in control of his faculties.

She smirked. In charge of everything and everyone. Including her. She wondered if the control tactics extended to his family. Then she blinked, realizing she knew very little about the man she married. It had been a whirlwind romance, a spur of the moment wedding at Our Lady Tourliani Monastery on Mykonos.

Emotion surged inside her, nearly suffocating her. She drew in a breath and exhaled a breath. A celebrity style wedding loomed on the horizon afterward he’d hinted. Under his magnetic spell, like a fool, she believed him. But no more. The magic had vaporized.

Then why are you quaking, and why is your heart pounding? She ignored the self-inflicted taunt, and at that moment, her stomach rumbled. Mortified, she slapped her hand over her abdomen.

“Hungry?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“No.” She’d skipped lunch and dinner to ensure she fit into the gowns, but seeing him again had made her lose her appetite. A sliver of a grin brushed her mouth. Something good might come out of this after all—a few lost pounds.

“Something amusing?” he asked, tone dry.

She shook her head and plunged into the depths. “Why are you here?”

He snared her in his sights. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”