Beauty and the Greek Billionaire

by Stefanie London

“A prenup,” Marianna repeated. “Right.”

  “If you have any ideas about blackmailing me, then you can forget it now. I have a team of lawyers at my disposal who will make sure neither you nor your brothers pull the wool over my eyes.” He speared her with a look. “We’ll marry, but only for the sake of the child.”

  If she agreed to that, then what other motive could she have unless she was telling the truth? He waited for a moment while she thought it through. Then she nodded.

  “And you’ll have a room here, people to wait on you and look after you,” he said. “You’ll want for nothing.”

  “I’d prefer to want for everything,” she said, her deep, brown eyes full of strength. Full of emotion. “What’s the point of living if you have nothing to want for?”

  Well, fuck. Nico shook his head. Not many people had the ability to render him speechless, but damn if this woman couldn’t slay him with one question.

  “This isn’t about us,” he replied. “We’re doing this for the sake of the child.”

  “You don’t even want to try?” she asked. “We slept together because there was a spark. Because there was something special.”

  “Sparks fizzle out when things get tough. Trust me, I know that for a fact.”

  Marianna looked at him curiously, her angry expression melting. Dammit, he shouldn’t have given his vulnerabilities away. But all his feelings were too close to the surface right now. She’d flipped everything on its head.

  You don’t even know if she’s actually pregnant, let alone if the baby is yours.

  “You didn’t answer my question before,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “Do you believe me?”

  “Why is that so important?”

  “Because if we’re going to be married then I need to know that you trust me.”

  “Trust is earned.” He didn’t add that it was something he rarely doled out, even to those who’d proven themselves over and over. It was a product of his past, an old wound that refused to heal.

  Marianna wrapped her arms around herself. In the extended pause of their conversation, the world impressed itself on the silence. Outside, birds chirped, and a breeze made the trees brush against the windows. It was a quiet, peaceful day. Usually he would be on the couch with his computer in his lap or a book in his hands. Nico feared he might never have that kind of peacefulness again.

  Because Marianna did things to his concentration. Bad things.

  “Well,” she said eventually. “This definitely isn’t how I’d wanted my life to turn out. But I do think it’s what’s best for the baby.”

  It wasn’t how he wanted his life to turn out, either. His plans to grow old alone and in risk-free solitude were currently being burned to the ground.

  “And you might not want to try,” she said. “But I do. I’m not going to be shoved away in some dark corner like I’m a shameful secret. You can bet on that.”

  Nico watched her beautiful face glow with emotion. She could try, but she wouldn’t get anywhere. He wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted. The sooner she learned that, the easier life would be.

  …

  Marianna looked down at the rings adorning her finger. The two simple bands were made of yellow gold. One had a marquise-cut diamond, which sparkled like nothing she’d ever seen before.

  The past three weeks had gone past in a blur. Marianna had returned to Australia only long enough to pack her things and say goodbye to the people in her life. Outside her family it was a short list of one: her best friend, Jules. He’d been her savior over the years—a shoulder to cry on, an ear for her problems. His home was a haven when she’d needed to escape her brothers. Leaving him behind was just as painful as leaving her family, and they’d both shed a tear at the airport.

  As of an hour ago, Marianna had become Nico’s wife.

  She smoothed her hands down the simple white silk sheath that she’d chosen from the flashier options presented to her by Nico’s assistant, Helena. It was like liquid against her skin, so light and perfectly smooth, and it skimmed over her stomach, which was yet to show any signs of the life inside. The ceremony had been small. Private. Only Nico’s best friend, Dion, and Helena had attended as witnesses. She wanted her family there, but since Daniel and Matthew hadn’t gotten many backers for their software yet, money was tight. And her eldest brother couldn’t afford to pay for them all. It was sad, but they hadn’t missed much. It was a glorified form-filling exercise more than it was a ceremony.

  The priest had conducted a short mass and then bound them in the eyes of the church and the law. There had been no celebration afterward, no champagne or dancing. Instead, Nico and Marianna had returned to his house, and her suitcases had been delivered from the hotel she’d stayed in the previous night. Their marriage might not feel real yet, but she wanted to do as many of the traditional things as possible: a white dress, not seeing her groom the night before the wedding.

  Not living with Nico until they were man and wife.

  It might seem pointless to him, but to her, those things stood for something. She wanted to make this work.

  “This is your room,” Nico said, pushing the door open to one of his many spare rooms. What did he even do with them? He didn’t seem like the type to have guests stay over, and he appeared to have no contact with his family…if he even had a family. Her suitcases were stacked neatly against one wall. “There’s a bathroom next door, and I’ve had it stocked with everything I thought you might need. However, if it’s missing anything I’ll have our house manager take care of it.”

  “You’re putting me in a spare room?” She shook her head.

  “It’s not spare,” he replied. “It’s yours.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You want to sleep in my room?” He raised a brow.

  “I told you, I won’t be shoved into a corner. We’re married now, and when this baby comes I don’t want them growing up with parents who simply tolerate each other.”

  “I can easily not tolerate you,” he said, frowning. “Look, I’m doing it already.”

  Smart-ass. She was sticking to her guns, though. Whether he liked it or not. She would attempt to build a home with a real family, even if she had to drag Nico kicking and screaming into her vision.

  Marianna marched into the spare room and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. Her heels clicked on the floor as she wheeled it out into the hallway. “Let’s try this again.”

  The muscle in Nico’s jaw twitched. “Are you purposefully trying to piss me off?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “But it’s an added benefit.”

  Rolling his eyes, he stood there for a minute and assessed her. For whatever reason—possibly that he’d determined stubbornness to be one of her more developed skills—he turned around and lead her to his room.

  “I have the room set up a particular way,” he said as he opened the door to the master bedroom. A bright window faced the garden, and the room was sparsely furnished but still welcoming. “My home is my personal sanctuary.”

  “Is this the adult way of saying ‘don’t touch my stuff?’”

  What are you doing? You think sleeping in the same room is going to mean this is a real marriage? Think again.

  Her subconscious was right, of course. But she had to start somewhere. Marianna wheeled her suitcase next to the bed and inspected the bedside table, peering at a photograph that looked to be very old. Two young boys with bronzed skin and ink-black hair. She reached out to touch it, but Nico cleared his throat.

  “I like things a particular way,” he repeated.

  “Fine. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

  “I usually eat in my office, so you can have dinner any time you like,” he continued. “Let the chef know, and I’ve already told him you might have strange food requirements.”

  She raised a brow.

  “Cravings,” he clarified. “That usually happens with pregnant women…from what I’ve read online. The fridge is well st
ocked, but the staff are under instruction to get you whatever you need.”

  She watched Nico as he ran through the workings of his household. There was an army of staff to satisfy his every whim, and hers now, too. He spoke quickly, as though trying to get the “orientation” part of his day over, and conducted the whole speech with minimal eye contact. She wondered for a moment if this was as awkward for him as it was for her. Neither of them wanted to be in this position, tied to someone they didn’t care about. Tied to a mistake.

  “Did you know the word ‘wed’ comes from the Proto-Indo-European root wadh-, meaning to pledge or redeem?”

  “Is the phrase ‘did you know’ your favorite thing to say?” he countered.

  “I think it is.” She grinned. “Is yours ‘I like things a particular way?’”

  He made an exasperated sound, but amusement danced in his dark eyes. She would break him down, bit by bit. Quirky fact by quirky fact.

  She’d wondered over and over if proposing to Nico had been the right thing to do. But her brothers had reassured her that nothing was permanent, not even wedding vows. She could try to make it work with him for the sake of the baby, but divorce was always an option.

  Whenever she thought about that, however, fear gripped her chest. Any risk to her maintaining custody of their baby filled her with icy dread. She’d developed a fierce bond with the life inside her. Nothing would ever break that. Not Nico, not tradition. Nothing. If that meant she needed to live here endlessly trying to make this relationship work, then so be it.

  “Is this your first time being married?” she asked, bending over to unzip her suitcase.

  “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Sure. But I figure we should have our stories straight, and currently I know nothing about you.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew he was a fantastic lover and stubborn as hell. But that wouldn’t pass muster the second he wheeled her out at cocktail parties as his wife. “I’m assuming when I meet people I need to pretend like I married you for some reason other than getting knocked up.”

  For a moment, he said nothing. In the silence, the melodic chatter of two of Nico’s staff members in Greek got louder as they walked down the hall, and Marianna recognized the words for “dinner” and “lamb” from the small bit of study she’d fit into the last few weeks.

  “What makes you think you’ll be meeting people?”

  “I told you I won’t be shoved into a corner.” She didn’t even bother to keep the edge out of her voice.

  Nico’s lips lifted into a smirk, the first returning glimpse of the man she’d clumsily seduced almost three months ago. “I simply meant that I don’t get out much, therefore you won’t need to, either. I don’t plan to parade you around like some trophy.”

  She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On one hand, she wasn’t exactly a whiz at parties and small talk. But on the other hand, that meant being alone. A lot. And Marianna hadn’t ever been left to her own devices before. She wasn’t sure how she would even fill her hours without someone checking in on her. Especially since Nico had made it clear he didn’t want their marriage to be anything but the paper bearing their signatures.

  “Is that your way of saying you don’t have a lot of friends?” she asked, trying to sound sarcastic instead of curious, like she really was. She’d never met a man like Nico before—one who was so unabashedly remote. “I can’t imagine why.”

  He ignored her dig. “I live a solitary life, and I like it that way. Fewer people means fewer problems.”

  “That’s a sad outlook,” she replied. “But I suppose it explains a lot.”

  He looked as though he might retort for a minute, but instead he said, “I should get back to work.”

  The man was a mystery. A puzzle. And for some strange reason, curiosity tugged at her like a puppet master pulling her strings.

  After unpacking and showering, she padded into the bedroom with a towel around her waist and another encasing her hair. A lot could be learned about a person by observing their space. Nico had claimed he was “very particular” about how things were set up.

  As someone with good attention to detail, she noticed the careful styling. Only things which were held in the highest regard would be added to this sanctuary—a prized personal photo, linens of the highest quality. One or two trinkets which symbolized something important.

  Marianna wandered over to the side of the bed closest to the window. It appeared to be Nico’s preferred side. A box containing three expensive-looking watches was flanked by a stack of old books, the kind that were one uniform color all over with the title printed in gold on the spine. They must have lost their dust jackets. She scanned the titles: The Wealth of Nations, The Prince, and On Certainty. Classic nonfiction.

  Atop the pile of books was a small porcelain cat. The black enamel marking its nose was chipped away. Marianna picked it up. Who had it belonged to? Because it wasn’t the kind of item that belonged in this meditative, thinking space unless it had some significance.

  Gently, she placed the cat back down and turned it to face the window. “There you go, kitty. Now you can enjoy the sunshine.”

  She’d have a hard task ahead of her. But Nico Gallinas could be certain of one thing: his wife was going to be part of his life…whether he liked it or not.

  Chapter Eight

  “I can’t believe you went through with it,” Dion said.

  Nico was still in his suit from the wedding. Despite the heat, he hadn’t changed out of it the second he’d gotten home like he’d planned. Maybe it was because stripping off the jacket and pants would be like admitting it was over and done with. He was married. Something he never thought he would be.

  Dion had called not long after he’d left Marianna to unpack in his—their—bedroom.

  “I mean, I know you’re a man of your word but…fuck.” Dion let out a raw laugh. “This isn’t 1950. Just because a woman gets pregnant doesn’t mean you need to marry her.”

  “You know it’s already done, right? You watched me sign the papers,” Nico drawled. “This is a pointless conversation.”

  “I’m shocked, that’s all.”

  Nico had told Dion the whole story, unfiltered. Everything from Marianna’s terrible flirting, to him getting swept up in her beauty and uniqueness. To the fact he had his suspicions about her brother’s involvement. All of it.

  “And you know as well as I do that bastard children are treated differently here,” Nico said. “What about that lady who worked for you, huh? You heard the old women in accounts gossiping about her. I can guarantee it would be the same outside of work. The world has moved on, but Corfu…”

  It hadn’t. Traditional values were still held in the highest regard. And he wasn’t about to leave the empire he’d built here to go and live somewhere else.

  “You don’t even have proof it’s your kid,” Dion said.

  “She signed a prenup that gives her literally nothing except the contents of the suitcase she brought with her. No power, no access to my money. No claim on the company. If she walks out on me, she’ll be walking away empty-handed.” Nico drummed his fingers against the desktop. “Why would she do that if it wasn’t my kid?”

  “Maybe she’s looking for a cushy life. Maybe she was already knocked up before she came to you and she wants someone to foot the bill.”

  It wasn’t like Dion to be so suspicious. Usually that role fell to Nico. So much so, in fact, that he was known as the “bad cop” by some of the executive team at work. Whenever there was a problem with staff, Dion was the first to step in. If he couldn’t get things done with the charming and conciliatory approach, then it was Nico’s turn.

  “I’ve seen the reports from her doctor in Australia. The timing is right. Unless she became pregnant to someone else immediately before or after she saw me…I don’t think that’s the case.” He shook his head. “My gut tells me—”

  “Your gut is not absolute.”

  Nico frowned. “Why are
you so concerned about this? It’s my problem, not yours.”

  “We’re family.”

  Ah, that old chestnut. Nico and Dion were two very different products of the same system. Growing up in an orphanage had made Nico tough. Independent. He could rely on himself, first and foremost. Only when things were at their most dire would he go to someone else for assistance.

  But Dion was the opposite. Growing up lonely had made him a charmer, always wanting to preserve relationships and forge new ones. Everyone loved him, and he could talk his way out of any situation. Or into a situation, if required. He collected people—had so many friends that it made Nico’s head spin. Although how many of them were true, deep friendships, he wasn’t sure.

  But Dion was not family, because Nico had no family. Nor did he want one.

  Marriage to Marianna didn’t change that.

  “I’m only asking these questions to make sure you’ve thought it through,” Dion added. “I know you can be a little…impulsive, sometimes.”

  Nico grunted. “I’m decisive.”

  “Sure, whatever you want to call it.”

  “I have the prenup.”

  “And if the kid pops out to be some blond-haired blue-eyed little bundle of joy? If it grows up to look nothing like you? Then what?”

  Nico stared out of the huge window flanking his desk. It was a perfect day in Corfu—blue skies, clouds like wisps of spun sugar. The water in his pool sparkled as if covered in a blanket of sapphires. He was hit with the memory of her peeling the white dress from her curvy body, the sensual little wriggle of her hips that made his mouth run dry.

  “Sounds like you want to make a bet,” Nico said.

  “You know that’s not what I want. I hope it is your child and that finally something will get through to you.” Dion paused. “Who knows, she might be the one to do that.”

  Not a chance in hell. “She understands this isn’t a real marriage. I don’t want a wife in any practical sense.” He paused as the sound of laughter tinkled in the bowels of the house. Was it her? He strained to hear, but nothing further came. “My obligation is only to provide her a home.”