Billionaire Brides: Four sexy cinderella romances
Page 24
“Soon. I came to say goodnight to Sophie.”
“Right-o. I’ll see you tomorrow. Night, Soph.”
Eric walked down the stairs, whistling a tune, his manner happy. Satisfied?
Possessive fury burned through Alex.
His eyes raked over Sophie from head to toe, pausing on the swell of her breasts that was obvious beneath the flimsy night gown. Had Eric … had he … had they?
Alex banked down on the horrible imagery. He had come to London with the intention of investigating matters, and now he couldn’t bear thinking about Sophie with another man.
It couldn’t be true, because he couldn’t bear it to be.
“Alex? Are you okay?”
“No,” he said honestly. His dark eyes were glowing in his chiselled face, putting Sophie in mind of the darkest night skies.
“What is it?” She moved to him instinctively and lifted a hand to his broad chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch.
“I need to know.”
Sophie nodded slowly, though she couldn’t fathom what he was talking about. “Need to know what?”
Her face was beautiful; there was no denying it. But it wasn’t just a physical attractiveness that made him stare. It was her manner. So open and genuine, he found it almost impossible to believe that she was undermining his sister. Was it possible Helena and he had erred?
But why had Eric been visiting her so late in the evening? In her bedroom, while she was wearing practically nothing. He swallowed away the bitterness and forced a smile to his face.
“I just met you.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her expression quizzical.
“But I’ve bought companies in the space of hours. I’ve always listened to my instincts.”
Though she had no idea where he was going, Sophie’s heart began to race in her chest. “Yes?”
“And every fibre of my being is telling me that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t ask you to marry me.”
The silence pulsed between them, heavy with shock and surprise. “Marry you?” Sophie finally broke it, her voice squeaky in the night air.
“Yes. Marry me.”
Her mouth gaped. She looked down the hallway, as if just remembering where they were. She pulled him into her bedroom and quietly clicked the door closed behind them.
“I’m sorry,” she spoke quietly, and Alex had a surge of panic. She was going to say no, and it would all be over.
He waited silently for her to finish her sentence, but he was far from patient. Inside, he was a ticking bomb.
“I don’t think I heard you properly. I do that sometimes. I vague out and fantasize.” She shook her head in a gesture that he found frustratingly adorable. “What did you say?”
Relief was spreading through him. “You heard perfectly, agape mou. Marry me.”
“I thought that’s what you said.” Her tongue darted out and licked her lower lip. “It’s so sudden.”
He laughed softly and linked his arms behind her back, pulling her against his broad frame. “Marry me.”
“But you live in Greece.”
His nod was droll. “And you’re from Australia. These are details, not significant factors.”
She made a chortling sound. “Easy for you to say.”
“Marry me.”
She stared at him with a strange, drowning sensation. “But why?”
“Because every fibre of my being tells me it is right for us to marry. And I believe you feel the same way.”
Their eyes clashed, and understanding throbbed between them.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” He laughed into her cheek and then kissed her.
“Yes! Of course, yes!”
The packet was waiting for him when he got home. It must have arrived with the day’s post, and he’d shuffled it all onto his desk for later attention.
Proposing to Sophie Henderson had taken the focus out of his mind for a moment. After all, it had surprised him as much as it had her.
But it had been the right call.
He would never know for sure if she and Eric were carrying on an affair, and how serious it was, but there was enough proof to have him seriously concerned. As his wife, she would be out of the picture.
She would be his. And only his.
A tight smile of anticipation spread across his features as he thought of long, Greek nights at his home on Corfu. How he would enjoy teasing her delectable body when she was fully his. No imperative to return her to the house on Herringbone Lane; he would take all night to pleasure her and take his pleasure from her.
His body tightened at the very idea.
He slipped his finger beneath the flap of the envelope carelessly, and dropped the papers onto his desk.
The report was about twenty pages long.
And it contained the information he had dreaded.
Sophie Henderson, formerly employed by a Sir Edwin Thomas of Sydney, Australia, had been, according to various sources, involved in an affair with her married employer. The wife had fired her as soon as she found out. The words in front of his eyes were black and white.
His fingers were unsteady as he siphoned through the papers until he found a photograph of the man in question. Balding, overweight, with a personal fortune in the tens of millions, it was not difficult to see what the appeal had been.
So, Sophie had form for hitting on her wealthy employers, did she?
Was it money she sought? Or was she one of those women who simply liked to torment other women? To snag other women’s husbands for personal satisfaction?
He cast the papers aside with a groan and leaned back in his chair. What had he expected? He’d come here fully believing her capable of such behaviour. And now? Proof of yet another affair shouldn’t have shocked him. And yet it did.
Chapter 4
10 August, 06.11 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
Good Lord, Sophie. Marriage?
To this guy??
10 August, 06.12 am
From: Olivia
To: Sophie, Ava
It’s not ‘this guy’, Aves, she loves him. He loves her. Does the fact it’s all happened really quickly make it less likely to be good for her?
10 August, 06.13 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
YES!!!!!
Sophie read the emphatic reply with a smile on her lips; it was a smile that had been in place since agreeing to marry him.
Alessandros Petrides.
All night, she’d smiled into her pillow and dreamed of her future. A future with this Greek god of a man by her side, and one day perhaps, bonny little children playing at her feet.
10 August, 06.15 am
From: Sophie
To: Ava, Olivia
I love him. I know it must seem crazy impulsive, but I really love him. I’m not going to love him more or less or differently if we wait six months, nor if we wait a year. I love him. It’s that simple. I don’t have any doubts about marrying him. Please be happy for me. X
10 August, 06.16 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
You think that now, because you’re in the first fog of love and lust.
And it’s natural that you’d feel that way.
But what damage does it do to be really sure?
I don’t want you getting hurt, and men like AP are … well … not the safest bet. If he loves you, he’ll wait.
10 August, 06.17 am
From: Sophie
To: Ava, Olivia
He’s not Cristiano.
She sent it and then immediately wished she could pull the email back through cyber-space. Her stomach swirled as she regretted instantly writing the three words that must surely have caused Ava a river of pain. She chewed on her lower lip and hovered her fingers over the keyboard. But what could she say to undo her snappy reply? Invoking the memory of Cristiano Cesar Barata had been a very, v
ery low blow.
Time seemed to stretch like a piece of elastic that wouldn’t snap. Sophie sat in her bed, her iPad beside her, guilt lurching through her system.
10 August, 06.25 am
From: Sophie
To: Ava, Olivia
I’m sorry. I know you’re just worried about me. That wasn’t fair.
It’s just … Alex is an amazing guy. He makes me ridiculously happy.
How’s Milly?
10 August, 06.26 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
She’s fine.
Adorable.
Missing you both.
Cristiano is coming back to town in November for Tom Berry’s wedding.
10 August, 06.27 am
From: Olivia
To: Sophie, Ava
WHAT!!!! Hang on a sec. I just got back to my room and there’s like a million messages from you two. Let me catch up.
Ava, Sophie’s right. When you know, you know. If you’re sure he’s the right one, then I’m happy for you. I can’t make the wedding, given that you two are in such a huge rush, but I was thinking I could stop over in Greece on my way to Vegas?! Let me know if that works for you.
Meanwhile, what the hell do you mean, ‘Cristiano is coming back’? Isn’t that sort of a disaster?
10 August, 06.28 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
I don’t see why it needs to be.
10 August, 06.29 am
From: Olivia
To: Sophie, Ava
Um, maybe because of a rather adorable two year old with enormous brown eyes and olive skin? A little girl who is the spitting image of her father?
If Olivia could have known the effect her words had on Ava, she would have couched her point a little more carefully. For faraway, on the western edge of the Australian continent, surrounded by pristine grapevines and the sound of the rolling ocean in the distance, Ava was panicking. She had been panicking for months. The bridal party had booked to stay at her accommodation, the sweet little row of cottages nestled in amongst the grapes. And Ava had taken the booking before she’d realised that Cris would be one of their group. Her past, the past she’d spent every day facing up to because of their secret daughter, was about to come right back into her present.
10 August, 06.29 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
I’ll work it out.
10 August, 06.30 am
From: Sophie
To: Ava, Olivia
You have to tell him, Aves. He’s her dad. And he’s going to take one look at her and know that.
10 August, 06.31 am
From: Ava
To: Sophie, Olivia
We weren’t talking about me. Don’t worry about Cristiano. I’ll handle him.
Do you think either of you will make it for Christmas? I know you said you weren’t sure … but we’d love to see you.
It brought a nostalgic smile to Sophie’s face. She hadn’t even thought about Christmas. She had been planning to fly back for a whirlwind week. But that was before meeting Alessandro. Her heart clenched in her chest as she thought of her fiancé .
10 August, 06.32 am
From: Sophie
To: Ava, Olivia
I really don’t know, I’m so sorry. If not this year, definitely next.
Liv, keep me posted on your plans. Would love to see you in Greece if you can make it. Ava, we need to talk more about Cris. I’ll call you later in the week. Love you girls. x
10 August, 06.32 am
From: Olivia
To: Ava, Sophie
You go marry that gorgeous billionaire, Soph!! Have a champas for me and I’ll see you soon. You’re going to be a gorgeous bride.
“It’s paradise,” she said honestly.
“And yet you are quiet.”
She bit down on her lip, her eyes following the coastline beneath Alex’s enormous villa. “A little.”
“What is it?” He lowered the spaghetti straps of her travelling dress and ran his hands over her bare shoulders. She was warmed from the sun and when he kissed her, he tasted sunshine mingled with perspiration and sunscreen.
“It’s … the boys,” she said finally. “I can’t help thinking about their little faces when we drove off.”
Alex compressed his lips. No. Nor could he. Nor could he stop seeing Eric’s slightly panicked expression as they stepped into the limousine. Only Helena had been truly happy. Relieved, even.
He pushed aside those thoughts. He was here now, with Sophie. His wife.
“Are you disappointed your sisters were not there?”
“Disappointed? Of course not.” She spun around in the circle of his arms and smiled up at him. It was a convincing smile. He could genuinely believe that she loved him. “We hardly gave them time to make the trip, after all.”
Two weeks! Who would have thought it could be arranged so swiftly? She stifled a perplexed sigh.
Alessandros Petrides could accomplish anything in the world, even a super-rushed wedding.
“Still, family is family. Perhaps we should have waited …”
“Is that really what you would have wanted?” She teased, for his impatient streak had become a running joke between them.
“No. In fact, I would have dispatched my jet to collect them and refused to take no for an answer. I am pleased you are not sad they missed things.”
“We’ll see them soon. Ava’s … flat out on the … vineyard at the moment.” The small omission came surprisingly easily to her. Her husband would, one day, learn the truth about Ava, but the secret they’d all kept for so long was a habit Sophie wasn’t yet ready to break. She skimmed over the statement; it was something she would discuss with him later. It wasn’t a big deal anyway, to anyone but Ava, and the sisters who had helped her through the crisis of finding herself pregnant and alone. But with Cristiano’s return to the vineyard on the horizon, Sophie couldn’t help but feel a sense of worry as to how it would all work out.
“And Olivia’s on one of her hair-brained trips.”
“Hair-brained trips?” He prompted, already understanding the dynamic between the sisters despite having never so much as spoken to them.
“Liv likes to take off a few times a year. She’s got a horde of equally crazy girlfriends and she chooses whomever is at a loose end at the same time and off they go. Travel on a shoe-string budget, live like a local. She’ll write a guide book one day.”
“Perhaps one of her next trips will be to Greece.”
“She said the very same thing,” Sophie agreed, wrinkling her nose. “But she’s just as likely to change her mind tomorrow. She’s a free spirit.”
Alex nodded slowly. “I hope she makes the time for you. I would like to meet her, Mrs Petrides.”
The wedding had passed in a blur. A beautiful intimate ceremony, followed by dinner at a phenomenal restaurant Sophie had only read about in Vogue and Harpers and Queen. And then this. An escape to his divine Greek mansion.
“This place is a palace,” she said with a small smile.
“Your palace,” he murmured, and her heart turned over. His expression was difficult to comprehend; it was as though he was waiting for her to say something. She shifted uncomfortably.
After all, she’d have done anything to have successfully avoided falling in love with a man with money and this kind of property at his fingertips. A man like her father had been.
Of the few facts they had about him, that he was a wealthy Italian was at the forefront of her mind often. And now she’d fallen in love with a super wealthy guy from a stunning Mediterranean island. Like she’d sworn she never would.
“Careful, I’ll start demanding you address me as Your Majesty.”
“I would call you anything you asked of me, Mrs Petrides.”
Mrs Petrides. What a beautiful sound that had to it!
“Would you do anything I asked of you, too?” She said with a small smile.
“Well,” his voice was throaty. “That depends on what it is.”
She pulled at her dress, unzipping it at the side so that it floated down her body and she could step out of it easily. She wore the lacy white underpants the stylist had delivered, and no bra. “I saw a pool when we drove up. Is it private?”
“Ne,” his eyes glittered as he allowed himself the pleasure of looking at her.
“Excellent. Swim with me.”
“It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty,” he teased.
Sophie’s heart turned over. It had been a whirlwind, all right, but that didn’t make it any less right nor perfect. Life had a habit of throwing curve balls and there was no way she was going to be foolish enough to pass this one up. What should she have done? Waited a sensible period of time as Ava had urged? For once, she was channelling her inner Olivia, and throwing any kind of caution to the wind.
“I’m so glad I married you,” she said with a spark of pleasure as she stared up at him.
His eyes widened with apparent surprise and then he leaned down and scooped her up, carrying her small frame easily over one shoulder.
“Hey!” She laughed, punching him playfully. “I can walk you know.”
“You walk beautifully, my love, but this way I get to touch you as we go.” And to prove his point, he moved his hands to her rear, and cupper her buttocks.
But Sophie didn’t react at first. She was momentarily struck by a dawning realisation.
My love. It had sounded strangely discordant and unusual coming from his mouth, and she immediately understood why.
He had never said that word to her. Or specifically, those three words. Had she said it to him? She searched her mind and recalled having uttered I love you several times, often after they’d made love and she was in the throes of falling back to earth after an unimaginable pleasure. But she’d said it at other times, too. When they were discussing the wedding and where they’d live initially. When they were walking hand and hand from his house to Helena’s. She’d said it often.