Beauty and the Greek Billionaire

by Stefanie London

  “A toast,” he declared. “To Precision Investments, and to Dion and Nico for leading the way. And, of course, congratulations to Nico and his beautiful new wife, Marianna. We wish you good health and many children. Yamas!”

  The crowd raised their glasses and shouted their well-wishes. Marianna smiled, but she had the look of an animal ensnared in the lights of an oncoming vehicle. “Thank you so much.”

  Nico knew what would come next. The crowd was waiting expectantly, and Spiro winked. They were acting like it was a wedding, like they could cheer the bride and groom to kiss.

  “Don’t be shy,” Spiro’s wife said.

  Marianna turned to him, her brows furrowed. “Do they want us to give a speech?” she asked.

  Nico shook his head. “They want us to kiss.”

  If he delayed too much longer there would be questions. After all, what man wouldn’t kiss his wife at any opportunity? If they refused…well, that would only prompt more gossip.

  “Oh.” She sucked in a breath, her cheeks glowing pink beneath the glowing lanterns swaying on the balmy breeze. “We shouldn’t. Not in front of everyone…”

  He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. “Do you want people to talk about why we wouldn’t kiss?”

  She gulped. “Well, no. I guess not.”

  One quick kiss. Then he could gracefully bow out and take Marianna home. The way she tilted her face up, her lips parted ever so slightly, was a siren song. His blood roared in his ears, a command rushing through him with each contraction of his heart.

  Taste her, taste her, taste her…

  He lowered his head to hers, grasping her chin gently with his hand so he could tip her head back just enough. As he closed his lips over hers, she gasped, and the small sound was like a single firework igniting his soul. She responded as though they were more than signatures on a form, more than two people who were only together because they’d messed up.

  Marianna kissed with a passion that terrified him. Her lips were pliable under his, soft and giving and willing. Her hand came to his chest, not grabbing or tugging, but resting. Reassuring. She anchored herself to him with that soft, tender touch, and it almost split him open. He wasn’t used to kisses like that. Nico pulled back quickly, not wanting to know how his body would respond if he dared slip his tongue into her mouth. Besides, this wasn’t the appropriate place for such a display. They were married, yes. But this was still a work function.

  When he drew back, covering his discomfort by clearing his throat, she snatched her hand back as if she’d touched something unbearably hot.

  “Wow.” The word was so soft he could barely hear it, but he had…unfortunately.

  “I’m sorry to abandon the party, everyone, but Marianna and I should be going,” he said to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming, I know Dion appreciates it as much as I do.”

  He steered his wife into the house, his arms still tight around her waist. It hadn’t escaped him that Alethea had made a quick exit when it became clear a kiss was about to happen. It was awkward, but at this point, the most important thing was keeping up appearances.

  “Well, for someone who seems determined to ignore me most of the time, you sure do kiss like you mean it.” Her cheeks were as pink as the last breath of a sunset.

  “I don’t mean it.”

  Liar.

  “No?”

  “No.”

  She folded her arms under her bust. Lord help him. All the action did was push her breasts up higher and harder against the neckline of the dress. They were bigger than he remembered, no doubt a change in preparation for the baby. “Yeah, I’m not buying that. Guess I should add ‘bullshit’ to my list of fluent languages.”

  “It wasn’t like you held back yourself, little koala.”

  She smirked. “Deflection, interesting.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me,” he drawled. “I don’t have much experience in knowing where to draw the line while pretending to be in love with someone.”

  “You might not love me, but you could have easily gotten away with a peck.”

  She was trying to rile him up. Of course he knew that. But for some reason her words made a stone settle in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe I’m simply good at pretending.”

  After all, you spent years pretending you didn’t care that no one loved you. This is exactly the same.

  “Well, you’re good at lying,” she said. “I know that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Marianna’s full lips curved into a smile. “You said you stayed up late to work and only came in to use the bathroom. You didn’t go near the bathroom.”

  Dammit. “You were pretending to be asleep?”

  “Not pretending, just hovering in that space between being awake and being asleep.” Her expression softened. “I felt you pull the blanket over me.”

  He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling like she was inspecting him through a microscope. “I don’t want you catching a cold while you’re carrying the baby.”

  “A person’s character is most revealed when they think nobody is watching,” she said. “My mother used to say that to me.”

  He didn’t like this at all. Marianna was far more observant than he’d given her credit for, and if there was anything Nico hated, it was being watched. Being known.

  “What does that say about you, then?” he asked, dodging her observation. “That you’re moving my things around even after I asked you not to.”

  She bit down on her lip, as if stifling a laugh. “The cat? I thought it might want a change of scenery.”

  “Real cats need a change of scenery, not toys,” he said. “Don’t do it again.”

  Why had she even been looking at that damn thing, anyway? The ornament was hideous. Broken and chipped and cheap. Worthless. But Sister Iva had given it to him when he was a young boy, crying at being rejected by yet another family. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.

  But for some reason the thought of being able to pass it down to his son or daughter made him feel something, an emotion he didn’t quite know how to label but which gave him a warm, satisfied feeling in his chest. And that scared the crap out of him.

  Chapter Eleven

  Marianna had been looking forward to the “honeymoon at home” all week. After the cocktail party, Nico had been more attentive. They’d eaten dinner together and gone for a swim one night when he’d decided not to retire to his office. He’d even started sleeping in the bed next to her, though he’d made no move to get close. The damn thing was the biggest bed she’d ever seen, so they could have had an elephant in there with them and still not been cramped. But she was happy for the progress nonetheless.

  When they’d woken up that morning, he’d instructed her to pack a bathing suit and a towel. He was going to show her the markets, followed by his favorite beach at the top of the island. Beaches meant naked bodies…something that had unfortunately been on her mind night after night as her husband crawled into bed beside her. Even though he never reached for her in the dark, her imagination had been getting a workout.

  First up was the Corfu morning market right near the New Fortress. Despite the early hour, the market was bustling. The sound of Greek was starting to become familiar to Marianna, and she found herself enjoying the soft “s” sounds scattered through the words. With her limited vocabulary, she was able to catch snatches of conversations, words here and there.

  It was hard not to be excited by the prospect of a day of excellent food and swimming in a place that was more than fit to grace a postcard. All of Marianna’s life, she’d wanted to see the world; it’s what had drawn her to study languages in the first place. Her escape was through the words of other cultures, through the glossy pictures in her textbooks of far-flung places she never thought she’d get to see in person. But now she was here, although it wasn’t under the best of circumstances, at least she was getting to experience a beautiful part of the world.

  “Lots of people come here to ge
t their fish and fruit and vegetables,” Nico said as they wandered through the stalls.

  He was dressed casually. A gray marled T-shirt that looked snuggly and soft, and a pair of tan pants that hugged his muscular thighs and trim hips. He managed to make even the most basic of outfits look mouth-wateringly good. The man could wear a burlap sack and still get her blood pumping.

  The market was a riot of color, scent, and sound. Huge clusters of yellow zucchini flowers filled one market stall, while deep purple beets and glossy eggplants filled another. Bright orange prawns sat alongside shining silver fish and purple-tinged octopuses.

  “Did you know the word ‘octopus’ has three plural forms and all of them are acceptable?” Marianna said. “Octopuses, octopi, and the lesser-used octopodes.”

  “I did not know that.”

  “Yep. Octopedes is my favourite.”

  Music played over speakers dotted around the market, and people all around Marianna bustled and haggled for their produce. She could see herself spending hours here, just wandering around and observing.

  “The driver can bring you here whenever you like,” Nico said. “Although, Lydia and Aggie come every couple of days to ensure the kitchen is stocked, so it’s not necessary.”

  “I’ll still come. I like markets,” she said with a shrug. “I enjoy the sensory experience.”

  “You mean the yelling and fish heads,” he scoffed.

  “You might hear and smell those things, but I hear people’s businesses thriving and I smell the incredible things the ocean has to offer. Look”—She pointed to a stall where a small, older woman accepted a package from the fishmonger that was bigger than her head—“I saw her picking out her fish, carefully selecting each one, and making the fishmonger turn every fish over so she could see all the sides.”

  “You mean she was being a pain in the ass.”

  “She was being thoughtful because she cares about food and feeding her family. Or maybe it’s for a restaurant where she wants her customers to have the best quality.” Marianna looked up at Nico and shaded her eyes from the overhead sun.

  She’d left her sunglasses back at the house, and when Nico caught her squinting, he tugged his aviators off and handed them to her. They were too big and slipped down the bridge of her nose, but she didn’t want to discourage the sweet gesture. It was like the moment at the beach when he’d folded her clothes and placed them on the towel so they didn’t get soiled.

  He might act cynical. Hell, he might be cynical. But there was something soft beneath the surface, a tender little spot that she very much wanted to explore. But wasn’t that the very thing Dion was worried about? That she’d expose that part of Nico and use it to break him?

  “Or maybe she’s a cranky old lady who wants to screw the fishmonger into giving her a discount.” Nico laughed when she rolled her eyes. “What? Do you expect me to buy into your rose-tinted-glasses view of the world? I hate to break it to you, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “What’s wrong with seeing the good in the world?” She held up a hand when he went to respond. “If you’re going to tell me it’s naive, then you can save yourself the wasted air. It’s not naive. Trust me, I have so many reasons to hate the world, but I don’t.”

  “Oh really, you think you’ve got more reasons than me?”

  “Not that it’s a competition…but yeah, I do.”

  They stopped at one of the coffee vendors and each grabbed a drink to go. Nico chatted with the man behind the counter in Greek. He handed their coffees over in blue-and-white patterned paper cups, and Marianna sucked the scent in. Greek coffee was stronger than she was used to at home, but she’d grown fond of it already.

  “You know I grew up in an orphanage, right?” he said as they continued on through the market. Marianna stopped at a vendor with a window full of sticky-looking pastries. “Pretty sure that’s close to the top of undesirable childhood scenarios.”

  “I lost both my parents too,” she protested.

  “Yes, but you had them for how long? Long enough to create memories?”

  “Isn’t that worse? I knew exactly what was missing.”

  A shadow flickered over his face. “Trust me. Any kid who lives in an orphanage is acutely aware of what they don’t have.”

  She sipped her coffee, their footsteps dropping with a synchronicity that shouldn’t have yet developed, and found herself wanting to learn more about her husband.

  “What happened to your parents?” she asked.

  “I believe my mother dropped me off at a hospital…in a shoebox.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his knuckles tightened around the paper coffee cup. “As for my father…who knows. I think he was a client.”

  Marianna blinked. “Oh.”

  “None of the sisters ever said it outright, but they implied she was, uh…a sex worker. And I guess a baby would cramp her style or stifle her business.” He let out a harsh bark of a laugh. “Who knows? Maybe she was a regular woman who got knocked up and decided she didn’t want me.”

  Marianna looked down to her belly. She couldn’t imagine going through pregnancy and birth only to leave a helpless baby in a box.

  “I guess I’m lucky she left me at a hospital,” he added. “Rather than in a ditch.”

  The pain in his voice made her breath stall. No wonder the guy was so averse to relationships. “I’m glad she didn’t leave you in a ditch.”

  He turned to her without breaking his gait, his dark eyes guarded. “Why would you be glad?”

  “Because that would be horrible. I can’t even imagine someone leaving a baby like that.” The thought of it made her physically ill. Suddenly her coffee didn’t taste so good, and she pulled the cup away from her lips. “Everyone deserves a chance to make something of themselves, don’t you think?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “Is that why you didn’t tell me to get an…” She let the unspoken word hang in the air. “Not that I would have agreed, but I thought you might ask.”

  His face was expressionless, and while he wasn’t showing the emotion, it was absolutely there. It vibrated around him like a force field. “I would never ask for that.”

  They’d reached the edge of the market, which had become even busier since they’d arrived. The market stalls were lined with people clamoring to get the attention of the vendors, the noise escalating as people chatted and bargained. From the outside, she and Nico probably looked like any other couple walking and talking over coffee.

  But that was an illusion, wasn’t it? They would never be a regular couple. She might grow old alongside this man, but she wouldn’t grow old with him. Not unless something changed.

  Now she understood what Nico had said earlier. She’d never been in a loving relationship, but she was acutely aware of what she was missing out on.

  “Come on,” he said after a few silent heartbeats. “Let’s head to the beach.”

  …

  Nico’s reservations faded with the incredible view of the jewel-blue water and sandy rock formations ringing a pristine coastline as he drove them further up the island. The weather was perfect—warm but with a cool breeze. The water would be perfect, too, and he didn’t hesitate to strip off his T-shirt in preparation for a swim. It’d been too long since he’d come to this area.

  “I thought we could go for a swim here,” he said, trying not to watch as Marianna fiddled with the zip at the side of her dress.

  He stifled the urge to help her, knowing that where it led him last time was not somewhere he could go again. Each night as he’d gone to bed beside her, he’d reminded himself of Dion’s warning. For the sake of creating a happy house for their child, he could not afford to encourage any false expectations with Marianna. And that meant keeping his hands to himself.

  “Then we can grab something to eat. There’s a little ice cream place close by, if that’s something you like,” he added.

  “Do I like ice cream?” She chuckled. “Are there people who don’t like i
ce cream?”

  He shrugged. “There are people who don’t like all kinds of things.”

  Marianna pulled her dress down over her body. Beneath the breezy blue fabric was a bikini with blue and white stripes. Her breasts pressed together, held up by the halter top. Her curvy hips were encased in a pair of bottoms that came over her belly button in a way that reminded him of fifties Hollywood starlets. Compared to the skimpy string bikinis a lot of women wore on the Corfu beaches, Marianna’s bathing suit was quite modest.

  But it suited her perfectly. And even if she was covered head-to-toe, she still would have been a knockout. Her long, dark hair swung in a braid down her back, the end of it skimming the top of her round bottom.

  “We should go snorkeling!” she said all of a sudden, pointing to a sign. “Look, they have tours.”

  “You want to hang out with a bunch of tourists?” he asked, raising a brow.

  “I want to hang out with a bunch of fish.” She grinned. “Please, can we go?”

  Nico looked at where two men were standing with clipboards by a sign that advertised the tours. They were charging an arm and a leg, more than what many of the pre-booked tours would cost. But it wasn’t like he had much else to spend his money on these days. What was he going to do? Buy another car?

  “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

  She nodded. “It is.”

  They headed over to the stand, and a few minutes later they’d negotiated a solo tour. The vendor practically rubbed his hands together with glee over the wad of euros Nico had handed over.

  The joy on Marianna’s face made something uncomfortable shift in his chest. He wasn’t used to doing things simply to please another person. In fact, it’d been a very long time since that was his motivation for anything.

  The sun beat down on his bare skin, warming him as the small boat carried them out to the snorkeling area. When he’d agreed to marry Marianna, it was out of obligation. And he hadn’t thought about the ugly tangle of feelings he’d long since buried. But with each glance in her direction, he was increasingly aware that his life had taken on an entirely new and unexpected course.