By getting close to Sophia, he might be able to show her the potential their marriage could yield, and he might gain her trust enough that she would admit the real reason for her meeting with Theo. Because he wasn’t buying the noncommittal story of a coffee and chat.
“Do you have a bathing suit?” he asked as they walked toward the front of his house.
Her hair danced around her shoulders, disturbed by the breeze. “I do.”
“Then I’ll meet you by the pool in five minutes. I have a surprise for you.”
Dion was already in the water by the time Sophia pushed the sliding glass door to one side and came out into the evening air. The sun had set while they’d driven back from Elias’s house—and the sky had shifted through shades of orange and red and lilac to settle on a dark, inky blue. Perfect for what he had planned.
He tracked her every movement, sucking in the details of her like an eager student poring over a textbook. He wanted to learn every little piece of her. Sophia padded barefoot to the covered area where the banana chairs faced the water, lined up perfectly like chess pieces on a board. As if unsure of herself, she slowly unwound the towel from her body and dropped it onto one of the chairs.
“Come in,” he said. “It’s very pleasant.”
Thank god Dion had already submerged himself. The vision of her lithe figure encased in a classic black swimsuit that fit her body like a fantasy had filled him with desire. Black fabric clung to her small but pert breasts and the gentle curve at her hips. It highlighted the delightful dip at her waist and cupped the sweet space between her legs.
She tugged at the strap curving over her shoulder. He devoured her with his eyes, hungrily observing her shapely legs and the shadow of her cleavage. The woman was luminous, and it had been so very long since he’d taken anyone to bed. Not since there had been a whiff of their arranged marriage.
If he was being honest with himself, not since quite a bit before that.
He could pinpoint the moment he’d shut off that part of himself. An older woman—beautiful and glamorous, an English professor with an accent that had made his pulse race. He’d pursued her relentlessly, and eventually she’d given in. The moment she’d started talking about her husband, Dion had been filled with rage. He wanted no part of her adultery. No part of her betrayal of her husband. And when he’d demanded to know why she hadn’t told him she was married, she’d laughed as though he were the fool. It had been another nail in the coffin for his views on marriage. The final nail in the coffin for his belief that there was even a shred of merit to love…if it even existed at all.
It was enough to kill his libido dead in the water. That was, until Sophia Andreou had arrived in Corfu and tried to tip his life upside down.
“What’s the surprise you have planned?” she asked, a nervous smile twitching on her lips as she walked cautiously down the steps leading into the pool.
“Patience.” He treaded water lazily, his hands moving back and forth in the water. “You’ll see it in a moment.”
Sophia came closer, slowly sinking down in the dark depths that glittered with the reflection of the stars adorning the night sky. As her loose hair hit the water, it fanned out, making her look like some kind of nymph or sprite. Dion swallowed and found his muscles coiled.
“You certainly know how to create drama.” She tipped her head back and floated for a second, her hands causing ripples around her.
“What’s life without anticipation?” He swam closer to her.
She eyed him with caution. “Personally, I prefer life to have as little anticipation as possible. Easier not to be disappointed that way.”
“Doesn’t that make for a dull life?”
“It makes for a predictable life, which isn’t a bad thing. I like being prepared.”
She certainly had been when she came to Corfu. Armed with a plan that included hiding her true self, deceiving him, and possibly building alliances with the man he hated most in the world, she had been most absolutely been prepared.
“If you’re too prepared, you might miss out on something amazing,” he replied.
She made a derisive snorting sound. “I’ll take the certainty of knowing what’s to come over the vague chance of amazing, thank you very much.”
He was going to have his work cut out for him. That much was clear.
“You never did answer Elias’s question today.” He changed tactics, bringing her back to something comfortable.
“Which one?” She cocked her head.
“Your favorite Hitchcock movie.”
“I did answer that question.” Her feet kicked beneath the rippling surface of the water, keeping her upright. “I don’t like choosing a favorite child.”
He laughed. “Could you narrow it down to a top five?”
“Possibly.”
“I’d like to know if we’d pick the same ones.”
Her brow shot up. “You’re a fan?”
“The biggest.”
“You didn’t say anything today.” She peered at him.
“I don’t need to dominate the conversation all the time.”
“Just most of the time?” she teased.
Good. Her barriers had softened, even if only a fraction. “Elias doesn’t get many visitors who don’t want something from him. I didn’t want to take away from him enjoying a conversation about something he loves.”
“That’s sweet,” she said. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have him.” The automatic response was far too true and too real. It socked him in the chest, like it did every time he thought of his history with Elias lately. Swallowing down the pain, he covered the rawness up with a smile. “And you’re still dodging the question.”
Sophia made a drawn-out hmm sound. “I feel like I have to say Psycho because it’s so iconic. I had to sneak into the living room in the middle of the night to watch it because my father didn’t want me to see it.”
“Agreed. Not my number one, but definitely top five.”
“To Catch a Thief, because Cary Grant. Rear Window, because I could never look at my neighbors the same ever again.” She counted the names with one hand, tapping each finger to her thumb as she named them. “The Birds, obviously. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Oh, now I only have one left.” She bit down on her lip. “It could be North by Northwest.”
“Because Cary Grant?”
She grinned. “The most perfect reason to ever watch a movie. But then I haven’t said Vertigo, which was brilliant. I also love Strangers on a Train. Oh, and The Man Who Knew Too Much.”
“The remake?”
“God, no.” She looked appalled. “The original, obviously. Even Hitchcock himself couldn’t beat it.”
“You still won’t choose a favorite?” He swam a little closer. Now he could see the droplets of water clinging to her chest and shoulders and the way her hair darkened in the water.
“I refuse.” She tilted her chin up at him playfully.
“Then you leave fate in my hands.” He tapped at a screen protected with a waterproof case set into a mount beside the pool. Over the shaded section of the outdoor area, a large screen silently descended.
“You have a movie screen in your backyard.” She laughed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.”
“You might find it more comfortable here.” He inclined his head toward the hot tub neatly tucked away into one corner.
The water had been set to the perfect temperature, warm enough to ward off the slight coolness in the air as the night progressed without being too hot. And the kitchen staff had set out a small platter of fruit, pastries, saganaki, and calamari, along with a bottle of champagne on ice and two glasses.
They waded over to the hot tub as the iconic and recognizable theme music accompanying the Universal Studios logo moved onscreen, followed by the opening credits for Rear Window. By the time they settled into the warm, bubbling water, the screen was showing a slow pan of the movie’s one and onl
y setting: the backs of several New York apartment buildings that surrounded a shared courtyard and the apartment where the protagonist lived.
“I haven’t watched this one for a while.” Sophia couldn’t hide her glee as she leaned back against the spa and reached over to the platter to grab a piece of apricot. “It’s been at least a year.”
“That’s not too long.”
“It’s my mom’s favorite. We had this tradition where we used to watch a Hitchcock movie every Thursday night. My dad was always out doing business stuff, and we’d get into our pajamas and make popcorn and curl up on the couch together.” A wistful expression flittered over her face. “We’d always race to point out the cameo, even though now I have them all memorized.”
What it must be like to have a family and traditions and routines that involved movie nights and popcorn. As much as he valued his relationship with Elias, it was—first and foremost—a business relationship. “You used to do that but don’t anymore?”
“Mom got sick a little while ago.” Her gaze shifted back to the screen—though whether it was due to interest in the movie or because she wanted to hide something from him, he had no idea.
…
Sophia reached for the champagne flute containing golden liquid and downed half of it in one go. Talking about her mother always summoned that instinctive desire to drown out her emotions. The last twelve months had been hard. Her mother’s “moods” had gotten worse; her periods of self-imposed isolation had gotten longer and more frequent. No amount of begging would convince Dorothy to see a therapist. To get the professional help she needed. Probably because Sophia’s mother knew her husband would put a stop to it, lest she accidentally let some unflattering information slip about their marriage or family.
Her father thought seeing a therapist was no better than “airing dirty laundry.”
So Dorothy had turned in on herself, become more of a shell and less of the vibrant woman Sophia remembered from her younger years. She lived with the fear that one day the memories might fade completely if not reinvigorated by her mother’s return to her former self. But Sophia’s pleas continued to fall on deaf ears.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
The opening scene of Rear Window played on as James Stewart’s character watched the people in the buildings around him. The ballerina in the pink bikini top and shorts pranced around her apartment, kicking her leg back into an arabesque as she pottered around her kitchen.
“It’s my father’s fault,” she said bitterly. “He controls her like she’s a marionette on the end of his strings. Just one more person to bend to his whim. She used to be so…everything.”
She had no idea why she was even telling him this. Maybe it was the movie stirring up all the memories she was so afraid to lose. Maybe it was the way James Stewart watched his neighbors, making assumptions about them the way she knew everyone back in their Brooklyn neighborhood made assumptions about her family. Maybe it was being here with Dion as herself for the very first time, against everything she wanted and believed in, purely for the sake of her mother.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” She shook her head, wishing she could snatch the words back and tuck them safely away. She could not afford to give Dion any more leverage against her.
When she chanced a sidelong glance, his eyes were smolderingly dark. In the starlight and the glow of the giant movie screen, his eyes were a shifting view deep inside him. Anger simmered, along with something else. Understanding? Compassion? She turned away. She was only seeing what she wanted to see.
Dion was not her friend or her confidant.
“Are you worried I’ll be like him?” he said eventually.
He asked the question so quietly, so honestly, that it grabbed her heart in a vice-like grip. “Yes.”
He nodded as if a piece of the puzzle had slipped into place. For a long beat, he didn’t respond. His eyes were focused on the hot tub’s bubbling water in the way a fortune teller might look at a palm or a crystal ball.
There are no answers to be found. Trust me, I’ve looked everywhere.
“I don’t want someone to control,” he replied.
Sophia snorted. “The current arrangement doesn’t exactly support your statement.”
“You’ll be free to do whatever you please. If you want to study or continue running your own business, or if you want to sit by the beach every day, then you can do it here.”
The insult stung like a whip across her skin. “I don’t aspire to be a lady of leisure living on someone else’s dime. Ever.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “But I don’t know you yet. I don’t know what you want or what you need because you haven’t given me the chance to get past the ‘Sophia Andreou’ you’ve been putting on display.”
“Is this the point where you tell me you want to get to know me?” she scoffed. “Please, we both know why I’m here.”
“Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted. Truthfully, it’s not what I wanted, either. I never planned to get married.” He raked a hand through his hair, and the water kept it in place. “I think the whole marriage thing is a sham. But I want your father’s company, and apparently that means getting married to you. I won’t give up this opportunity, but I am fully committed to making it work.”
“Gee, a fake marriage that neither party wants where I can be a trophy who sits on the beach all day. How could I possibly refuse?”
“Give me a week,” he said.
“A week for what?”
“A week where you’ll pretend to be open to the idea of marrying me so we can get to know each other. If you’re still appalled by the idea at the end of the week, then we can make a plan to figure out an alternative solution. I can tell your father that you’re not happy—”
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not an option.”
“I’ve talked a lot of people into a lot of things, Sophia. Perhaps he’ll reconsider.” His dark gaze slid over her bare shoulders and arms, over where the curve of her breasts emerged from the bubbling water. “I can be very persuasive.”
“You’re not that persuasive.” She looked at him with a dark expression. “Trust me.”
“Give me a chance. It’ll give me time to come up with a proposal for your father.”
“You can’t tell him I’ve been…” She swallowed.
He quirked a brow. “Creative?”
“Difficult.”
“I won’t tell him that, I promise.” He shook his head. “Just give me a week. No preconceived notions, no disguises.”
“No foxes?” Her lip quirked upward, as much as she hated herself for it. It was hard to say no to Dion, especially when he looked at her like he meant every word of what he was saying.
You’re not dumb enough to actually fall for his lines, are you?
“Definitely no foxes.” He held his champagne flute up to hers. “Give me a chance to win you over.”
Never. Going. To. Happen.
“Fine,” she said, touching her glass to his. The chime rang in her ears. “One week, and I’ll try to forget what brought me here. But you have to promise not to out me.”
“I promise.” He sipped his champagne, and her eyes were drawn to the muscles working in his throat. To the slide of a water droplet down his neck. To the sharp cut of his jaw and the way the full lips wrapped around the edge of the crystal flute.
Dion had a lot of moves, she’d give him that. The whole “one week” thing was a clever attempt to get her to relax and to trust him. Too bad for Dion he didn’t realize that Sophia wasn’t good at trust.
Just another thing she could thank her father for.
Chapter Ten
Sophia seemed to have agreed to most aspects of his request for the week…except one. Dion lay in his bed, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked into the lifeless eyes of Baroness Sasha Foxington III.
Now you’re calling the damn thing by its name?
H
ow the hell had she snuck into his room and planted the fox there without him waking up? Again?
“You know what this means, Sasha?” He propped himself up onto his forearms. “War.”
He got out of bed and stashed the fox in the corner of his room. Later, he’d figure out how to get her back. But hopefully this little game she’d started was a sign that she would trust him…for seven days, at least.
For the time being, he needed to engage in full seduction mode. Sophia wasn’t going to know what hit her. For some reason, the anticipation and challenge she’d presented had his heart pumping a little harder than usual. Everything was on the line. Because if what Sophia had told him last night about her father was true—and not simply another story she’d spun since arriving in Corfu—then he couldn’t tell her father she’d refused to marry him.
He wouldn’t send her back in a way that might put her at risk. Which meant that this week needed to work…because how else would he convince Cyrus to go ahead with their deal if marriage was off the table?
It was time to pull out the big guns. Sophia Andreou was about to get wined and dined on an epic level.
Dion strode through the house and found her sitting on the island in his kitchen, her legs swinging back and forth so that her heels bumped lightly against the cabinets beneath her. Today she looked like a vision. She was wearing the same dress from yesterday, which managed to look even more enticing being somewhat rumpled and creased. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a few wisps falling down to frame her face. A simple gold necklace hung around her neck, catching the light and winking at him as if it held the secrets of the universe.
“Good morning,” she said with a sly smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did.” He jammed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I woke with a bit of a start, however.”
She toyed with the hem of her dress, her lips twisted as if she was suppressing a laugh. “Oh? Bad dream?”
“Yeah. I had a feeling I was being watched.”
How to Lose a Fiance Page 10
