It had taken all of Dion’s strength not to land a fist right in Cyrus’s face when he’d approached them with well-wishes. The man was practically glowing with self-satisfaction, and every smug smile had only made Dion hate him even more.
And yet you still agreed to his terms, didn’t you? You still allowed her to end up in this position.
“I think you and I aren’t much different,” she said, resting her head against the glass window of the limo. “You never had a family, and neither did I. Not a real family.”
He wanted to reassure her. But the fact was, she was right. She was alone because her father alienated her from people. Dion was alone because he didn’t have anything but his work. His two most important relationships in all the world—Elias and Nico—revolved entirely around Precision Investments.
“Elias told me something important once: ‘We cannot learn without pain.’” The quote came to him easily. He remembered the first time Elias had said it to him, after he’d invested his meager wages into a project that had gone belly-up so quickly he’d gotten whiplash watching the money disappear. At the time, he’d wanted to scream at the older man. But it was the backbone of his life. Take the pain, transform. Shield against further pain. “And yes, I’m a Greek man quoting Aristotle, which makes me a walking cliché.”
“Sitting cliché.” She turned to face him. Her earrings twinkled and winked, catching the passing streetlights and reflecting the light back at him with tiny rainbows. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in all his life.
“You can’t change her.”
She twisted the emerald ring around her finger. After they’d returned home from Paris, he’d offered to have a wedding band made to go with it, but she’d refused. She wanted to keep things simple, but in the back of the limo, it felt anything but.
“I know.” She nodded. “I just don’t understand why she feels that way.”
“Love makes people do stupid things. It seems to override self-preservation and logic and every other skill we’ve developed with evolution. It turns people into idiots.”
“What’s the story?” she asked.
“Remember how I told you I met my father and I regretted it?”
“Yeah?”
He shifted his gaze out to the window as the coast blurred past in the dark. The moon was fat and full. “I had always been under the impression that my mother died in a car accident. At least, that’s what the sisters at the orphanage had told me.”
“Right.” Her eyes softened as if she could feel the gaping hole in his chest.
“Well, she didn’t. He, uh…had a letter from her.” The moment he’d read it, his heart breaking into a million tiny little pieces, he made himself a promise. He’d never love anyone. Ever. “She left me on his doorstep and took a bunch of pills. The cops were called, but they got to her apartment too late.”
“Oh my god.” Sophia pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“Her letter said that she couldn’t imagine a life without him loving her.” His lips twisted into a cruel imitation of a smile. “Apparently she got pregnant on purpose because she thought a baby would make him leave his wife. Then, when that didn’t work, she pulled the rip cord. I was her act of desperation, and I failed.”
“Her plan failed, not you. You were only a baby.” Her eyes shone with fire and passion. “God. How can our parents be so fucked up?”
“I don’t know.” He reached out and cupped her face. “But let’s take that pain and learn from it, okay? Let’s take the pain and let it fuel us. You can be free, and so can I.”
“We’ll take the pain,” she echoed. “Turn it into something good.”
“That’s right.”
She leaned forward, coming up onto her knees on the seat. The heat in her eyes had turned molten, like lava fields and liquid fire. “No love.”
“Never love.”
…
Sophia slipped one leg over Dion’s lap and settled down against him, her dress bunching around her hips. He was hard as stone, his grip strong and sure in a way that made her feel like he would take care of her. That he wouldn’t let her fall. He was exactly what she needed right now, a force to help her turn her anger into something productive.
Sacrifice now for success later. Turn the pain into lessons.
Dion’s hands smoothed up and down her arms. The memory of his kiss lingered on her lips, making them tingle and throb. Her mind flitted between Paris and today. Between the moments she’d continued to give in to him. It would be okay; it had to be okay.
In the reflection of the car’s window, they looked like darkness and light. His skin was deep and olive, his suit dark as midnight. And she was his opposite.
His hands continued the soothing up-and-down motion along her arms, and she allowed him to touch her, because for some stupid, stupid reason it made her feel better. She wanted to make herself feel better, but the fact was, she needed Dion. He was the only one who’d helped her break away from her father, who’d given her an actual road out.
But now she was Dion’s wife. She’d made the ultimate sacrifice for her mother, a woman who would probably never acknowledge it.
Vicious words swelled in her head, voices telling her that she was weak and an idiot and digging her own grave. Because as much as she hated being in this position—being beholden to Dion and to her father—she wanted to be here now. In this limo. With him.
He was a different man than her father. He was a good man.
She saw how he cared for his friends, for his employees, for his town. He was proud, loyal, hard-working. Smart. And that was what made it hard. Because she could see herself falling for him, she could see herself wanting to be his wife in every sense of the word: physical, emotional. Everything. Because he made her burn from the tips of her toes to the top of her skull; he made her feel things that nobody else had. And if she was being truly honest with herself, she’d already started that descent. She’d already started to fall.
“Did you ever think about trying to trick me?” She shifted against him, and he let out a strangled groan. It was taking all her willpower not to lean in and take his mouth with hers. “Trying to make me think you loved me so I’d agree to the marriage?”
“I don’t want to give you false promises,” he said, his hands flexing against her hips, encouraging her to rub against him. “I want us to be on the same page about what this is and what it isn’t, because that’s the only way I can see it working.”
“This is my wedding night,” she said, tilting her face up to his. From this angle, his face was full of shadows, making his cheekbones sharper and his jawline harder and his lips fuller. She curled her hands into his suit, holding him tight. “This might be the only wedding night I have.”
“Might?” The corner of his lips lifted in that oh-so-subtle way that she’d come to find devastatingly attractive. “Are you thinking about the potential husband already?”
“I should be.” She swallowed, finding her mouth dry and her blood pulsing hard. Against everything she knew, against any bit of logic that was left, she wanted him.
“But you’re not?”
“No, I’m not.” She closed her eyes and let herself dwell in the rolling tornado of feeling currently eating her up inside. The smart thing to do would be to walk away now. To start acting the way she should: like this marriage was a complete and utter sham. But her stubborn hands wouldn’t let him go.
“What do you want, Sophia?” His fingertips brushed the hair from her forehead, the gentle gesture searing a path over her skin. “Do you really want me to lie to you? To say whatever it takes to get you to stay, even if I don’t mean a word of it? I thought I was doing the right thing by being honest.”
“I don’t want you to lie.” Her eyes were still shuttered, keeping him out. But it only served to amplify her other senses, so she could hear the subtle ragged edge to his breath, smell the faded cologne on his skin, and feel the intensity radiating from him and penetrating
her down to the very core of her. Slaying her. “I’m sick of people lying to me.”
“Then what?”
The silence felt like it would drown her. She imagined this was how the ocean sounded when it sucked you down, filling your nose and ears and lungs. But Sophia wasn’t the kind of woman to go down without a fight. She wanted this…and she would have it.
“Am I who you thought I would be?”
He laughed. “No. You’re nothing like what I thought you’d be.”
A dark shadow of a beard had started to show through his olive skin, making him look rougher around the edges. Personally, she preferred him that way, even though the man shaved religiously, always trying to maintain his perfect image.
But today had been a very long, very exhausting day.
“You’re nothing like what I thought, either.”
“And what did you think? That I was a heartless bastard you could tame?” He shook his head. “You can’t change me, Sophia.”
“You’re not half as bad as you think you are,” she whispered.
“And you’re not half as helpless.”
A sound of agreement caught in the back of her throat. “I’ve been at the mercy of my family ever since I was a little girl, doing literally anything and everything I was asked. I’ve never made my own decisions, never done anything simply because it was what I wanted to do. Is that not the definition of helpless?”
“I find it hard to view a woman who tortured me with a taxidermy fox helpless.” He chuckled, and the sound seeped into her chest and clutched her heart. “You’re possibly the truest, boldest woman I know.”
Her breath caught. Nobody had ever viewed her like that before—not like she was a pawn or a princess in a tower. Not like she was passive in her own life. Dion saw the person she wanted so desperately to be.
“Then let me be bold, dear husband.” She parted her lips and looked at him through the thick fringe of her eyelashes. “I don’t want to go to sleep until tomorrow has begun.”
He looked at her with wild hunger. The car had come to a stop in the driveway of Dion’s house. They’d forgone getting a hotel for the night, since his place was better than most hotels on the island anyway. Shoving the door open, Dion stepped out of the limo, still holding her. She shrieked and wrapped her legs around his waist as he strode toward the house, carrying her as though she weighed no more than a bag of sugar. Sophia laughed as the driver stared after them, bewilderment etched into his features. Obvious this was the first time Dion had carried a woman up the driveway.
“Poor Silas.”
“He’ll figure it out,” Dion said as he punched the code into the pad beside the door. A second later, the door burst open, and they were heading through the dark toward the bedroom.
“Kiss me.” She curled her fingers against his scalp.
His lips were hard and firm, tasting of the strong traditional alcohol they’d had in small glasses at the wedding. He smelled like cologne and the ocean, salty and refreshing and something she wanted to drown in.
He entered the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them. Now that they were alone, everything suddenly felt real. Terrifying. She wanted Dion, and she had no idea how far that want went. She was in deep, and she hadn’t even known it until now. When he set her down on the bed, it was with a reverence that shook her. A gentleness and appreciation that she’d never expected to see.
Dion lowered his head, pressing his lips to the edge of her jaw and making his way down her neck. His fingers toyed with the strap of her dress before gently sliding it down. Underneath, she wore very little. No bra, since she barely had breasts to worry about, and only the tiniest little scrap of lace covering her sex.
Knowing it would not take him long to uncover all of her sent a shiver rampaging down her spine.
“You taste like dessert,” he murmured against her skin. “Like honey and strawberries and pastry.”
Sophia tipped her head back as he started the slow seduction she’d been trying her damnedest not to think about all day. There’d been a moment when perhaps she thought it would be possible to draw the line—to define her boundaries. That she might have the willpower to go to bed alone. But that notion evaporated like smoke on a breeze as he palmed her breast through the silk.
Her nipples tightened immediately under his touch. They ached, begged. But the slow, maddening circle of his palm only served to stir her arousal further, without fulfilment.
“Please,” she gasped, arching into his touch and having no idea what she was really asking for. She simply wanted more…of everything.
“It’s a wedding night, Sophia mou. Not a wedding hour. You’ll get what you want…” His lips curved into a wicked smile. “Eventually.”
He pushed the other strap from her shoulder, and the silk slipped down her body, revealing her breasts and pooling at her hips. His hands snaked behind her, curving over her ass as he pulled her tight against him. The hard length of his erection couldn’t be mistaken. It dug into her belly, skyrocketing her body temperature and filling her with a strange squirming, pulsing feeling that she’d never experienced before. Instinctively, she rubbed against him, feeling a delicious twitch in return.
“What do you want to do to me?” Sophia no longer recognized her own voice. It was the voice of a seductress, a temptress. The voice of a woman who knew her sexual power and wielded it to maximum damage.
“Everything.” His pupils were so big and so dark it was like staring into an abyss. “I want to take you to bed, keep you up all night, and wake you up with my lips against your skin.”
Her hands ran up and down his chest, settling on the button closest to his throat. She pushed it open and gently pressed the fabric back to expose an inch more of his tanned olive skin.
“I want to learn everything you like. I want to watch you touch yourself, showing me how you like it.” He was lost now, his eyes black and smoky. Sophia relished the squeeze of his hands on her ass. “I want to get you nice and wet, so I have something to taste when I put my head between your legs.”
She trembled as she continued to unbutton his shirt. Dear lord, the man knew exactly what to say to get her going.
“What happens next?” she asked, yanking the shirt out from where it was neatly tucked into his pants. Only three more buttons to go. Pop. Pop…
Pop.
“My head will be between your legs for quite a while.” The lamplight played over his cheeky smirk.
“I’ve noticed you enjoy doing that,” she said, pushing the shirt from his shoulders and watching it flutter to the floor. His black tuxedo pants were secured with a black belt, making the most of his trim waist. She traced a fingertip over his abs and followed the lines of his muscles until they disappeared right where she wanted to touch him.
“I like making you feel good.”
“Then we’d better get started. Morning will be here too soon.” Her eyes met his, and she reached for his hand, drawing it down her body and between her legs, just as he’d described. “I don’t want to waste a second of tonight.”
Dion swore under his breath. “And you call yourself powerless. You should see yourself now.”
He turned her back around to face the mirror. When she looked at her reflection, she didn’t see the uncertainty from earlier today. She didn’t see a possession. She didn’t see a bargaining chip or a piece of paper. She saw a woman unleashed, a woman finding her own power for the very first time.
Dion cupped her breast with one hand, his olive skin and the dark smattering of hair on his arm darkly contrasting against her skin. He shoved the dress over her hips, and it fell to the floor with a whisper. The white lacy thong she’d purchased from the bridal boutique seemed almost obscene now. The scant triangle barely covered her.
“You’re a vision.” He toyed with the edge of the thong. “You’re my every fantasy.”
Her feet were still in the delicate, strappy sandals she’d worn to the wedding, and the dress sat in a puddle around the
m. The chandelier earrings Dion had given her that morning shimmered in the light, showing off with each subtle movement of her head. Her left hand was heavier than usual, the weight of her ring feeling more like a boulder than a gemstone.
“Touch me,” she commanded softly, forcing her brain to concentrate on the physical rather than the mental. Tomorrow, she could worry about her future. For now, she wanted only to indulge in the present.
Chapter Sixteen
Dion cradled Sophia in his arms, watching every thought and emotion shift over her face like clouds on the wind. Watching her walk down the aisle with flowers in her hands had created a war inside him. Sophia deserved a husband who was with her for her and not for what she could give him. And yet, he felt an unshakable rightness as she took that last step to be next to him.
Dion’s biggest mistake had been in looking over to Elias, however, who sat in the front row of the church, his nurse next to him and tube after tube connecting him to all kinds of apparatuses to stop him from dying in the middle of the ceremony. The old man’s face hadn’t shown such pride and joy since before he’d been hospitalized. He wanted to do everything he could for Elias before time clutched its greedy hands around the man’s throat for good. Dion would take control of Cyrus Andreou’s business and crush his father’s memory, he would be a loyal husband to Sophia, and he would try to make Elias as proud as possible.
He would be all things to all people.
“Touch me,” Sophia said again, her fingertips dancing over the back of his hand, tracing patterns he couldn’t see.
“You want to watch?” He pressed his face to her hair and inhaled the scent of the perfume that had been wafting up from her body all day. This was where he could show Sophia that she was wanted. Desired. This was where he knew how to make her happy. “I want to see that beautiful face when you come.”
Her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths as he slid his hand down the flat plane of her stomach, his fingers diving beneath the waistband of her thong. “Yes. I want to come.”
How to Lose a Fiance Page 16
