The Greek's Bride of Convenience

by Helen Bianchin

  The lift came to a halt, and she stepped quickly out and headed towards the furthest of two doors situated to the left.

  Georg was there before her, the key in the lock, and she turned to face him as soon as the door closed shut.

  All the pent-up fury erupted with potent force, and, unbidden, her hand snaked towards his face, the small explosion of sound seeming to rebound in the silence of the room.

  His eyes gleamed with glittery anger, and for one horrifying second she thought he meant to strike her back.

  He stood curiously still, in perfect control, yet Lexi only barely managed to suppress an involuntary shiver. Never in her life had she felt so threatened, and she unconsciously held her breath, her eyes wide and unblinking as she stood transfixed in mesmeric horror.

  ‘Does that make you feel better?’ Georg drawled with dangerous softness. He conducted a slow, deliberate appraisal of each and every one of her physical attributes, and she almost died at the expression in those dark eyes as they returned to meet her own, reflecting a savage ruthlessness that made her want to turn and run.

  ‘Be warned,’ he cautioned with icy remoteness. ‘I will not be your whipping boy.’ His eyes speared hers, activating an angry defiance deep within, turning her golden-hazel eyes a brilliant topaz with the sheer force of it.

  ‘And I won’t tolerate any tyrannical behaviour,’ she retaliated, uncaring of the tiny flaring from the centre of those hard brown eyes.

  ‘I am here in the guise of an ally, not your enemy,’ he reminded her implacably.

  ‘And it would be much easier if I were amenable?’ She felt as if she were on a roller-coaster, experiencing the tumult of emotional fear and exhilaration that went with the thrill of courting danger.

  ‘While I can understand your aversion to men in general,’ he drawled, ‘you would be advised to remember that I am not cast from the same mould as your ex-husband.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I have to like you.’ Her attempt at cool anger failed dismally in the face of his mocking cynicism.

  ‘My dear Lexi, you don’t know me well enough to judge.’

  She wanted to lash out, physically hit him, and be damned to the consequences. One transgression had been ignored, and she knew without doubt that another would bring retaliation of a kind she’d be wise to avoid.

  ‘Will you please leave?’

  ‘I’ll make the coffee.’

  He appeared so indomitable, so in control, that it was almost more than she could bear, and she was consumed with boiling rage as she followed on his heels into the kitchen.

  ‘This is my home, dammit,’ Lexi vented furiously, ‘and I want you out of it!’

  Georg assessed the well-designed kitchen with one sweeping glance, then reached for the percolator, extracted a drip filter, and set about grinding the coffee beans.

  Lexi viewed his back with angry vexation. ‘Damn you, don’t you listen?’ She reached for his arm in an attempt to drag him round to face her, and felt the sheer strength of well-honed muscle beneath her fingers.

  ‘I heard you.’ He transferred the percolator on to the element and switched it on.

  ‘Don’t you dare ignore me!’

  Georg turned slowly to face her, and suddenly she was supremely conscious of his close proximity, the powerful breadth of shoulder beneath its civilised sheath of expensive tailoring.

  ‘If you continue to behave like a belligerent child I’ll treat you like one.’ The words were silky-soft, and dangerous with the threat of intent.

  ‘Oh? What particular form of punishment do you have in mind?’ She was so angry that she really didn’t care any more. ‘Be warned that if you so much as touch me I’ll have you up for assault.’

  His eyes became almost black, and his mouth tightened into a thin line. Without warning he caught hold of her shoulders and drew her inextricably close. So close that she was made aware of every tautened muscle and sinew.

  ‘Don’t—’

  It was far too late to bargain with him, and she cried out as his head lowered to hers, his mouth fastening with unerring accuracy over her own as he forced her tightly closed lips apart.

  A silent moan failed to find voice as he initiated a brutal assault on her senses, and she struggled against him, beating her fists against his back, his ribs—anywhere she could reach.

  Her jaw ached from the sheer force of his possession, and she could have screamed with frustrated rage as every attempt she made to struggle free was halted with effortless ease.

  Timeless minutes later he relinquished her mouth, and she stood in shocked silence as she made a conscious effort to regain her breath, hardly aware that her face was waxen-pale and her eyes were large luminous pools mirroring a mixture of pain and disbelief.

  His features appeared blurred behind the slow well of tears, and she blinked rapidly to dispel their threatened spill.

  If he’d wanted to deliver a lesson in male superiority he had succeeded, although her spirit wouldn’t permit him the satisfaction of knowing the depth of her shaken emotions.

  Sheer unadulterated pride was responsible for the slight tilt of her chin, while a degree of dignity and self-respect lent her eyes a fiery blaze.

  ‘If you don’t leave I’ll walk out of the door and book myself into a hotel for the night,’ Lexi declared in a deadly calm voice.

  His appraisal was swift and clinically analytical as he surveyed her beautiful features, and she hated the knowledge she glimpsed in his gaze, the sure, unabating regard that was a perplexing mixture of ruthlessness and shameless sensuality.

  His eyes held hers for what seemed an age, then they slid slowly down to settle on the soft fullness of her mouth before lifting to meet her startled defiant gaze.

  Then he turned and walked towards the door, opened it, and closed it quietly behind him.

  Somehow she had expected him to overrule her, and, although she desperately wanted him gone, his departure was something of an anticlimax.

  Damn him! She was so impossibly angry she almost wished he were still in the apartment so that she could vent some of her rage.

  Except there was the pain of her ravaged mouth as a vivid reminder, and she felt a sudden chill shiver down the length of her spine in the knowledge that Georg Nicolaos would never allow himself to be subservient to any woman, much less her.

  The frantic bubbling of the percolator penetrated her mind, and she reached forward to switch off the element, opting instead for hot milk with a generous dash of brandy.

  When it was ready she carried it through to the lounge and sank into one of the large leather sofas, slipping off her shoes and nestling her feet up beneath her as she slowly sipped from the mug.

  A heavy silence permeated the room, almost as if the man who had not long vacated it had left something of his presence behind, Lexi brooded as she gazed sightlessly into space.

  He was everything she hated in a man, she decided with damning frustration: self-assured, arrogant, and impossibly iron-willed.

  If it weren’t for Jonathan she’d condemn Georg Nicolaos to the nether regions of hell without so much as a second thought.

  A long heartfelt sigh escaped her lips. Five weeks, David had intimated. It would be a miracle if she survived the distance.

  The brandy began to soothe her fractured nerves, and when the laced milk was finished she drifted into her bedroom, stripped off her clothes, removed her make-up, and slipped into bed to sleep deeply until seven when the alarm shrilled its loud insistent summons to the start of a new day.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SESSION went way over time, with endless extra shots being required—to such an extent that it was all Lexi could do to contain her impatience as she obediently performed for the camera.

  As much as she admired Peter’s professional expertise, this morning for some reason his seemingly endless search for perfection proved tiresome, and she longed for the moment he would call a halt.

  ‘That’s good, darling. Chin a
fraction higher. Now turn slowly towards me. Great. Smile. Sultry, sexy—that’s the look I want. Pout a little. Sweep down with those eyelashes. Good. Now open. Look at me.’ The shutter clicked with increasing rapidity. ‘That’s it, darling. I’ve got all I need.’

  With a sigh of relief Lexi stepped away from the backdrop with its concentration of lights angling in from various points on the set. The heat they generated added at least ten degrees to the temperature inside the studio, and she longed for a cool shower.

  She quickly effected a change of clothes in a dressing-room at the rear of the set, and, aware of the time, Lexi simply caught up her bag and emerged to cast Peter and his two assistants a hasty grin.

  ‘Got to dash. I’m due to model at a fashion auction at one. Ciao.’

  It took ten minutes to reach her apartment, a further fifteen minutes to shower and dress, then she slipped back into the car and drove towards the exclusive suburb of Woollahra.

  Traffic seemed unusually congested, and she managed to miss almost every set of traffic-lights at each consecutive intersection. Consequently, by the time she had parked the Mercedes she had five minutes to spare before the auction was due to begin.

  Held in an exclusive boutique and organised by its owner to aid of one of Lexi’s favoured charities, with guest attendance strictly by invitation, it was a twice-yearly event for which she waived her normal fee. Designer labels were displayed by three professional models and individually auctioned at a cost price reserve. Considered a ‘must’ by the social élite, it was definitely an occasion, with champagne and hors-d’oeuvres offered by hired staff, followed at the auction’s conclusion by a sumptuous array of savouries and continental cakes served with coffee and tea.

  Organised chaos reigned in the small changing-room, and Lexi murmured a quick apology as she began pulling on a pair of sheer tights.

  ‘Lexi. For heaven’s sake, we thought you weren’t going to make it in time!’

  Anxiety coloured the older woman’s voice, and Lexi proffered a soothing smile. ‘Relax, Renée. Jacqueline is just now beginning her welcoming introductory speech. It will be at least five minutes before she’s ready to announce the first of the collection.’ She stepped into a silk half-slip, then dressed in the stunning ensemble that represented an exotic and expensive line in resort wear. With skilled fingers she swept her hair up into a casually contrived knot atop her head, added adept strokes with shadow and liner to highlight her eyes, blusher to her cheeks, then outlined her mouth and brushed colour over the contour of her lips. ‘There. All done.’ A quick check in the mirror, a practised smile at her own reflection, then she slid her feet into slender-heeled pumps and stood waiting with poised assurance for Jacqueline’s call.

  Possessed of an ebullient personality and an enviable degree of showmanship, Jacqueline was very much in charge of the auction, which soon assumed the theatrics of a stage production. Without doubt she held her ‘audience’ in the palm of her hand, and, suitably relaxed by a generous flow of fine champagne, her guests entered into the spirit of it all with a display of friendly rivalry as they attempted to outbid each other in their race for a bargain purchase.

  Elegant day-wear soon gave way to a sophisticated line of tailored business-wear, and was followed by the after-five range.

  Lexi completed her walk, gave a final turn, then moved quickly into the changing-room, effecting a smooth exchange of garments with swift professional ease.

  The background music was muted, a tasteful selection that didn’t compete with Jacqueline’s spirited auctioneering, and Lexi emerged on cue in an absolutely stunning creation that could easily have been created for her alone.

  Adopting a practised smile, she moved with easy fluidity to pause, turn, then repeat the process at three-metre intervals until she’d completed the pre-arranged circuit.

  As she turned to face the guests her eyes were caught by a tall figure standing on the periphery of her vision.

  Georg Nicolaos. What the hell was he doing here?

  Looking incredibly arresting in a dark business suit, his pale blue shirt worn with a sombre silk tie, he represented an alien force in what was surely a feminine sphere.

  Lexi forced herself to meet his gaze and hold it for a few seconds before transferring her attention elsewhere as the bidding became fiercely competitive.

  ‘Two hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Four hundred.’

  Heads turned as if in synchronisation at the sound of a deep masculine drawl, and Jacqueline, with immediate recognition and an impish sense of humour, broke into tinkling laughter.

  ‘Darlings, we are honoured this afternoon. For those of you who haven’t read this morning’s papers, Georg and our darling Lexi are an item.’ She paused slightly and made a delicate fluttering movement with her elegantly manicured hands. ‘Don’t you think it’s just marvellous?’ Her smile held genuine warmth as she turned towards Lexi. ‘I’m so pleased for you both.’ Turning back towards her guests, she lifted her hands in an expressive gesture. ‘Now, ladies, is anyone going to compete with Georg?’

  ‘Four hundred and fifty.’

  ‘Six hundred.’

  Lexi’s eyes widened fractionally as she forced herself to maintain a slight smile. Inside, she could feel the onset of helpless frustration and anger at his deliberate actions.

  ‘Seven,’ followed in feminine determination.

  ‘One thousand,’ Georg drawled, lifting one eyebrow in a gesture of musing indulgence at the sound of a few gasps.

  He was deliberately attempting to set a precedent in their purported relationship. His appearance here would be regarded as juicy gossip, Lexi seethed, and as such it would be discussed, embellished, and circulated with wildfire speed.

  Damn him!

  ‘Eleven hundred.’

  ‘Twelve,’ another feminine bidder added, while yet another topped it by a further two hundred dollars.

  Dear lord in heaven. They were caught up with the need to outbid each other, turning a civilised event into a circus.

  ‘Two thousand,’ Georg called calmly, and there was a hushed silence.

  Would anyone else dare bid? Somehow Lexi doubted it. Even the most frivolous of the women present would balk at paying three times the gown’s wholesale price.

  ‘Sold,’ Jacqueline declared with a delighted clap of her hands. ‘Thank you, Georg.’ She turned towards Lexi and directed an ecstatic smile. ‘You, too, darling.’ With professional ease she commandeered her guests’ attention. ‘Now, ladies, please prepare yourselves for the evening-wear selection. Then I have a little surprise in store.’

  Lexi escaped into the changing-room, and her fingers shook as she slid out of the gown and handed it to the assistant before donning a strapless and practically backless figure-hugging creation in patterned silk.

  Any hopes she held that Georg might have made an unobtrusive exit were dashed as she re-emerged, and in silent defiance she directed him a deliberately sultry smile before veiling her eyes.

  It was almost half an hour before the last evening gown was sold, and with each passing minute Lexi felt as if her nerves were being stretched to breaking point.

  Georg had declined to make another bid, and his presence merely whipped speculation to fever pitch. Lexi’s sensory perception was so acute that she could almost hear what they were thinking.

  ‘Now, darlings, I’ve added an extra line as a little titillation.’ Jacqueline paused, allowing her words to have maximum effect. ‘What you’ve seen so far will certainly gain your favourite man’s attention. Now, for the grand finale we’ll play an ace with a range of sleepwear guaranteed to raise his—’ she hesitated with theatrical precision, then a husky voluptuous laugh escaped her lips ‘—blood-pressure.’ From the degree of laughter filtering through to the changing-room, the guests were in fine form, their normal reserve loosened somewhat by several glasses of champagne.

  Lexi cast the final rack an experienced eye, and inwardly cringed. Exclusive, ruinously exp
ensive, the items displayed represented the finest in silk, satin and lace, and were guaranteed by the designer to be original and unduplicated.

  Even attired in the exquisitely fashioned teddy, she would be just as adequately covered as if she were modelling a swim-suit. Yet there was a wealth of difference in the degree of projected provocativeness.

  For a moment she considered refusing, but there were three models and consequently three of every line. If she opted out Georg, as well as every guest present, would be aware of it, and she was damned if she’d give him that satisfaction.

  With professional panache she took each call, modelling first the satin lounge pyjamas, following them with a silk nightgown and négligé set in soft peach-coloured silk. The nightgown was so exquisitely designed it could easily have been worn as an evening gown, and she gave the patrons full benefit of its delightful lines by removing the négligé and completing another round.

  The teddy, with an ankle-length wrap in matching satin, was left until last and presented as the pièce de résistance.

  Lexi was the last of the three models to emerge, and she unconsciously lifted her chin a fraction higher as she moved slowly around the room, deliberately not casting so much as a glance in Georg’s direction.

  ‘Remove the wrap, darling,’ Jacqueline instructed, and Lexi shook her head as she conjured forth a witching smile.

  ‘I prefer a little mystique, Jacqueline.’ The wrap had no ties, and she was careful to ensure that the lapels covered each peak of her satin-and-lace-clad breasts. Her long slim legs were beautifully smooth and lightly tanned, and with considerable grace she lifted a hand to her head, released the weight of her hair so that it cascaded in a rippling flow of thick curls down her back, then she held out the edges of her wrap and executed a slow turn before moving towards the changing-room, not caring that she was breaking with one of Jacqueline’s preferred rules.

  ‘One thousand dollars.’

  No one glimpsed the flash of fury in her lovely golden eyes at the sound of that deep, faintly accented masculine voice, nor the faint tightening of her lips as she heard Jacqueline’s subtle teasing and Georg’s evocative drawl in response.