For some reason it made him think of the Wicked Witch of the West.
“Has this been fun for you?” she asked, swallowing. Her arms were wrapped around herself as though she needed a layer of protection. The pale pink silk brought out the flush in her skin, giving her face life and making her dark eyes look even more arresting.
“I can’t say wedding-dress shopping is one of my personal hobbies,” he said drily. “But isn’t that what a good fiancé should do? Be supportive of his bride?”
Her nostrils flared. “Don’t act like this is a genuine gesture. You brought me here for a reason.”
“To pick a dress.”
She rolled her eyes and looked around the store. “Right.”
“If anyone is going to admit to having ulterior motives, it should be you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.
“What on earth do you mean?” Her tone was saccharine sweet, but he didn’t miss the angry glint in her eyes.
“Where to start? Firstly, there was the incident at the airport.” He ticked the item off his index finger.
“Where you thought I was begging for money.”
“Then there was the cocktail party.” He ticked the second item off his middle finger. “The clown pants were an interesting touch. Then the taxidermy hobby and that damned fox. But none of that was enough to make me think you had something up your sleeve. In fact, you were so good I totally bought the ‘quirky girl’ act hook, line, and sinker. Well done.”
She averted her eyes for a second, as if guilt had dragged her gaze away. Then she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and gnawed on it.
“But you made a critical error.” He stepped onto the podium, causing her to take an instinctive step back. Now his height was on full display, and Sophia had to tilt her head up to make eye contact. “You assume I don’t know what my staff are up to at all times of the day.”
Dion could tell she was wracking her brain, trying to figure out what he was referring to. He could let her stew in the uncertainty a while longer, but he was done with the game. He wanted everything out in the open.
“My driver.”
She sucked in a breath.
“He dropped you off at a quaint little street yesterday, right near a nice tavern. Good place for a coffee with friends. I was interested to hear what you were wearing.” He narrowed his eyes. “Which would have been puzzling but not concerning if I hadn’t found out who you were meeting.”
“You had me followed?” She bobbed her head. “Now I don’t feel so guilty for assuming you were a controlling asshole like my father.”
“Ah, so the truth finally comes out.” The victory was hollow. “It’s about time.”
“Why do you care what the truth is so long as you get me down the aisle? All you give a shit about is getting your greedy hands on my father’s company.”
“Your father was the one who demanded the marriage, not me. So your ire is misplaced.”
“And yet you’re happy to marry a stranger for the sake of a business deal? You could make a hundred deals just like it without the wedding contract.” Her eyes glittered now, like angry stars. “Why say yes?”
Perhaps this whole “poor damsel” thing was an act. Dion didn’t trust easily, and Sophia had pushed all his buttons in the last twenty-four hours. But her reaction now seemed genuine. Her resentment was palpable.
Did he even want to marry someone who was so clearly against the idea?
Dion swallowed. The truth was, no. He didn’t. But the thought of letting his father’s name live on in the company Cyrus now owned… It made him feel sick. Just as sick as the time he tracked his father down, hoping for a reunion befitting people who were connected by blood, only to be rejected in the cruellest of ways. His father’s harsh reaction had swiftly ended any fantasies Dion had that they might one day become a family. That one day he might be loved by the man who created him.
As far as he was concerned, his father didn’t deserve a legacy.
Not that he could confess his real reason for wanting Cyrus’s newly acquired business—she might have been fond of her dad’s old boss. Maybe she knew him like a kind uncle. Maybe he was like family to her. And Dion didn’t want to hear a good word spoken about his father. Not to mention that if she knew, she’d probably call the whole thing off. Or clue her father in. And he couldn’t have that.
So he’d have to walk the gray area of his morals by doing something good—giving Sophia a comfortable life of freedom that could cater to her every whim—to offset the bad—marrying her with an ulterior motive. It wasn’t perfect. But for a boy who’d grown up with nothing and nobody, he’d never had the luxury of letting perfect be the enemy of progress.
“It will be better to show you than tell you,” he said. “If you give me the afternoon, I’ll show you exactly why I said yes.”
Sophia regarded him with bottomless chocolate eyes that revealed nothing. “Why should I hear you out?”
“You don’t have to.” He was taking a risk now, calling her bluff. “If you really want out of this arrangement, then I’ll call your father right now and tell him that I won’t marry someone who isn’t a willing party. I can have you home by tomorrow morning.”
Her face paled, the pink draining out of her cheeks in a way that told him a lot more than any words that might have left her mouth. Clearly the “happy family” image he’d been sold by both Cyrus and Sophia was a fabrication. Or, at the very least, an embellishment. Which explained why Sophia had lied when he’d asked if she agreed to their arrangement.
Was Cyrus involved with Theo? Had they set this whole thing up? He wouldn’t put it past either man.
“We don’t have to do that,” Sophia said, shaking her head.
“Why don’t we get you back into your clothes and go for a drive? We can start over, be more honest with each other.”
Swallowing, she nodded stiffly. “Sure.”
If Sophia or her father or Theo had any plans to screw him over, then he was going to do everything in his power to stop them. Dion had his plans, and he was going to see them through.
…
After a quick stop at home so she could change, Sophia sat beside Dion in his car as they curved around Corfu’s eastern coast. They were approaching the top of the island, around the point at which Greece gave way to Albania on the mainland. Over the Ionian Sea, there were shadowy hills and crests in shades of dusky blue and green. It had become hazy today, giving the view a mystical appearance.
They rounded a corner and started up a steep driveway shrouded by dense trees and shrubberies. Eventually, they came to the front of a house that was so magnificent Sophia had to force herself not to gasp. Everything was covered in bright, white stone, offsetting the color of the sky and trees perfectly. The huge sweeping driveway ringed a fountain, where blue water glittered. A man came over to open the car door when Dion killed the engine. What kind of a house had its own valet?
“Kalos irthate,” the man said with a friendly smile. He waited while Sophia exited the car and shut the door behind her, all the while chatting in Greek.
Dion returned the conversation as the three of them headed into the house. On the inside, the building was even more opulent. White marble, exotic plants, and gold frames housing artwork so stunning Sophia wanted to stop and stare at every single piece.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here at some point?” she asked.
“Soon.”
Ever since they’d left the bridal shop, her mind had been whirring. He’d certainly stopped her in her tracks by offering to call her father and send her home. Tempting as it was to fly off this island, the consequences killed that fantasy dead in the water. If Dion told her father she wasn’t a “willing party” then this would all be for nothing. Her father would make sure there was hell to pay. But hope was slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. And the tighter she tried to clutch them, the faster they fell.
A woman with a severe bun and inquisitive
eyes led them to a room at the back of the house. When she opened the doors, Sophia’s heart clenched. A man sat in a wheelchair by a window, a blanket draped over his lap. His white hair was thick and shiny, but his pallor didn’t look healthy. Sunlight bounced all around him as his head lay back, his mouth open slightly as he dozed.
He still had a pen and paper in his hands.
“Should I wake him?” the older woman asked, looking at Dion.
He shook his head. “It’s fine. We’ll wait.”
He took a seat in a richly upholstered chair outside the room. Today, he’d worn jeans and a linen shirt, which had rumpled slightly during the drive. Instead of making him look messy and unkempt, it added an air of attainability to what was otherwise wholly unattainable.
Unless you happen to be up for grabs in a business deal.
Sophia swallowed down the sour thought. She took the seat next to Dion and watched the sickly old man. The woman had left the door open so they would know when he woke up.
“I’m guessing he’s not a relative,” Sophia said, wincing as the man coughed in his sleep. She knew the sound—the rattling, hollow sound of someone whose lungs weren’t working the way they were supposed to. She’d heard it too many times in the hospital from patients who had breathing disorders.
Dion shook his head. “No, but he’s the closest I’ll ever get.”
Despite her feelings about Dion and the deal he’d struck with her father, his statement reached into her chest and grabbed hold of empathy that shouldn’t have been there. How lonely the world must feel without any family at all? Sophia had no idea what she would do without her mother, broken as their relationship was. Because the memory of what her life had been before her father’s chosen career intruded on their lives kept her going.
“This is Elias Anastas.”
Sophia frowned. She instantly recognized the surname. Surely that wasn’t a coincidence.
“Yes, he’s Theo’s father.” Dion leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs, his head bowed slightly. “They’ve been estranged for years.”
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of Sophia’s stomach. Her intuition that something had been fundamentally off between Dion and Theo was clearly on the money.
“Elias has been my mentor for over a decade. He was doing a guest lecture at the university in London where I had a scholarship, and he inspired me so much that I went up to him after the class and told him I would do anything if he would take me under his wing.” Dion raked a hand through his hair. His voice was softer than she’d ever heard it, less polished and more…raw. “I started working for him after I graduated, and he taught me everything I know. He helped me set up my business, and even now I go to him when I need someone to bounce ideas around with. Our relationship was…is very important to me.”
Was. He was already speaking like the man had already gone. Probably preparing himself for the inevitable. As if to support that theory, one of the machines attached to the old man beeped softly. He stirred and shifted in the wheelchair but didn’t wake.
“Elias looked at me like a son, and I looked at him like a father,” Dion continued. “Theo and Elias’s relationship has always been strained. There was an incident some years back where a lot of money went missing, and he found out it was his son stealing from him. Theo moved overseas, and they haven’t spoken since.”
“They’re still not speaking?”
“I don’t think so. Theo has been skulking around since it became apparent that Elias’s diagnosis was more severe than we first thought, but I don’t think it’s because he cares that his father could die soon.” Dion made a noise of disgust. “He was the son of a marriage much later in Elias’s life. His wife was nothing but a gold digger, and when it became apparent she wasn’t going to get anything out of him, even with a child, she started shopping around for another husband. Eventually Elias kicked her out, and Theo went with her.”
Such a tangled family history. Maybe her own family wasn’t so unusual after all.
Dion toyed with his ring as he spoke, his lithe fingers twisting it over and over. So, he was the son Elias wished he’d had, and Theo was the thieving son cast aside…at least if Dion’s story could be believed.
“What has this got to do with you acquiring my father’s company?” she asked.
“Elias was going to buy the company before your father took possession of it, but then he got sick. I want to finalize the sale before…” His jaw ticked.
Dion’s gaze was full of fire, turning his dark eyes molten. Passion oozed from his every pore, and instead of making Sophia want to run, it had her enraptured and rooted to the spot. This was the man behind the charming, slick persona. Behind the bespoke suits and the fancy cars and the successful image. And she couldn’t look away.
“I want him to know he’s the only father I ever needed.”
The words didn’t totally make sense to Sophia, but the meaning was clear enough: he wanted to make Elias proud. His father figure, since he’d never had a father of his own, was dying, and he wanted to give him the gift of seeing his success.
“You don’t think he’ll get better?” she asked softly.
“The prognosis isn’t good.” A line deepened between his heavy brows.
“How long?”
“Not long enough.” For a second it looked like there might be a tear glittering in his eye, but he blinked, and it was gone. Perhaps it was a trick of the light. “Six months, maybe. If we’re lucky. More likely less.”
A lump formed in the back of her throat. “I’m so sorry.”
She shouldn’t feel his pain. Hell, he probably brought her here to manipulate her into doing what he wanted. But unless the man had missed his calling as an Oscar-worthy actor, his grief was real. Because the love he had for Elias Anastas was undeniable. Unmistakable.
It was the kind of love that caused someone to do things they normally wouldn’t. Things they possibly didn’t want to do. She recognized it because it was the exact same love she had for her mother.
In a way, she and Dion were the same.
“Why was Theo at your party, then? If he’s estranged from his father and you’re the…” She bit down on her lip.
“The replacement?” His laugh was hollow.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s true, I guess. And I invited Theo because I wanted to see what he’d do. I don’t trust him, so I figured it was better to keep him close.” He shrugged. “I hate him for what he did to Elias. I know it broke his heart. So forgive me if I sound like a bastard, but the fact that you snuck off with him… I was incensed.”
“I don’t know what you don’t tell me,” she replied quietly. “I’m not clairvoyant.”
“And I can’t tell you anything if I don’t know who I’m dealing with.” His gaze flicked to hers. “So can we cut the persona now? Can I please talk to the real Sophia Andreou?”
She bobbed her head. “You’re talking to her now.”
“Why did you meet with him?”
She dug her nails into her palms, making crescent-shaped indentations. “He gave me his card at your party. I called him, and we had coffee. End of story.”
Just because she wasn’t going to hide behind ridiculous outfits and an outlandish fake personality didn’t mean that she’d open herself up to Dion. Or let on what Theo had asked her to do. If Elias was sick and there was tension between the men, she was hardly going to pour gasoline on an already-burning fire. She knew how unbearable angry men were—her father was a prime example. She’d refused Theo’s offer, anyway.
And he’d refused hers.
Learning Dion’s motives for wanting her father’s company—understandable as they now were—didn’t change a thing. She still wanted out of this marriage in a way that wouldn’t cause her family to implode.
For her to have what she wanted, he would need to give up his dream. And vice versa.
Chapter Nine
The meeting between Elias and S
ophia had left him with a funny feeling in his gut all afternoon long. His mentor had been well and truly charmed by the bubbly American, her tinkling laughter punctuating all Elias’s jokes and her hand coming to rest on his shoulder as they talked animatedly about their shared love of Alfred Hitchcock movies.
The worst thing was, however, that Dion had been utterly charmed, too.
It seemed the real Sophia was frighteningly close to the kind of woman he gravitated to—warm, well-rounded, a good conversationalist, interested in creative mediums such as music and art. The fact that she shared his passion for old movies was an unusual check mark.
But he remained silent through the entirety of the meeting, his brain whirring at this turn of events. Perhaps he’d been looking at this all wrong. Rather than trying to give Sophia space to come around to the idea of being married to him, he needed to tempt her toward it.
Seduction.
It wasn’t a strategy he generally used. He preferred to rely on a charming presentation of the facts over selling a dream. But it wouldn’t exactly be a stretch to seduce Miss Sophia Andreou.
As she exited the car in front of his house, the wind kicked up the edge of her dress and sent it flapping around her slim thighs. Without her retina-searing costumes distracting his eyes, it was easy to see how beautiful she was. How attracted he would have been on first sight if they’d met under the usual circumstances. Her dark hair gleamed as it fell down her back in gentle waves, and her fair skin was starting to tan under the persistent Greek sun.
But to Dion, physical attraction was only one part of the equation. One part that, alone, didn’t satisfy him. Corfu had more than its share of beautiful women, so if that was all that was required, then he could have taken his pick. But he wasn’t the kind of man to sell himself short. And so it wasn’t until he’d seen Sophia come out of her shell with Elias that he’d truly been struck with desire…and the thought of how he could best deal with this situation.
How to Lose a Fiance Page 9
