The Greek's Hidden Vows

by Maya Blake

  It was a need a million times more potent, more urgent than she’d felt in the distant past when she’d once believed herself in love. And that made it almost...frightening. Because if she felt like this with Christos over the mere promise of a kiss, then what—

  The thought shattered as his lips brushed over hers. Once. Twice.

  Then he was claiming her in a vivid, ferocious kiss that jerked her hands to his waist for fear she’d fall if...when her knees gave out. Because his kiss was intoxicating, that stroke of his tongue, once he’d breached her lips, the stuff of pure addiction.

  A moan escaped her, triggering a grunt from him. Then he was gathering her closer, his arm banding her waist, lifting her against him until her toes left the ground, left reality. Her breasts, heavy and needy, plastered against his chest, her belly cradling his hardening arousal.

  ‘Thee mou,’ he rasped under his breath.

  The raw sentiment echoed inside Alexis, a distant voice urging her to take note of the ground shifting beneath her feet, of the need to withdraw, stabilise herself before it was too late.

  But then his hand was moving over her body, gripping and releasing her hip, then cupping her buttock. Alexis gasped all over again, the sound greedily swallowed into his mouth when he rolled his hips against hers, imprinting his erection in a blatant caress that fired heatwaves through her.

  ‘As much as I like the feel of those nails of yours sinking into my skin, we’re at risk of this turning scandalously graphic if we don’t control ourselves,’ he murmured darkly in her ear.

  And by that he meant her, of course. Because she’d completely lost track of her surroundings, had only been intent on satisfying the clawing hunger inside her. But it hadn’t been just that. There’d been a weighty need to...belong. To hold on to him and not let go, if only for a little while. To be a part of something good and worthy. Something she didn’t have to give up, like the friends the nuns at Hope House had cautioned her against making.

  This is an orphanage.

  Nothing is permanent.

  Don’t form attachments.

  Short, simple warnings that had epitomised the paucity of entanglements she’d experienced as a child. She’d made the mistake of disregarding them a few times and been rewarded with heartbreak when those fragile friendships had broken before they’d had a chance to properly kindle. And of course, once the children had left, they’d never looked back. She’d particularly felt the truth of the nuns’ warnings the two times she’d come within a whisker of being adopted only to be returned to Hope House because it didn’t work out.

  ‘Did he make you feel like this?’

  She blinked, focused back on the drop-dead gorgeous face of Christos. Of her husband. ‘I...what?’

  ‘West,’ he said through teeth that sounded gritted. ‘Did he make you tremble like this?’ he demanded, his voice containing a harsh edge.

  The shock of hearing Adrian’s name made her push against him. She attempted to cover it up by laughing as she stepped back, distancing herself from her turbulent feelings and her body’s desire to cling to him. The world hadn’t quite righted itself after that kiss, so she sat down on the lounger, snatching up her glass just for something to occupy her hands with. ‘Now it’s my turn to ask if you’re jealous.’

  He didn’t bat the question away with the same flippancy she’d attempted. Instead, he claimed his own seat, picked up his glass and stared into its contents. ‘Your time with me has repeatedly demonstrated that you’re an exemplary judge of character. Which makes me wonder what happened with him.’

  She went icy cold. ‘And you think I was so blinded by lust that my common sense went out the window?’

  His face grew tauter, his nostrils flaring with displeasure. ‘Were you?’

  ‘Christos—’

  ‘Did you believe yourself in love with him?’ he pressed, his voice a thin blade.

  That niggling shame for losing her head over such a consummate smooth-talker threatened to resurface. But she reminded herself she hadn’t done anything wrong. So she raised her chin and met Christos’s gaze. ‘I thought we had a...connection. That I could trust him. I discovered I was wrong.’

  ‘He betrayed you,’ he stated with a conviction that stunned her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How?’ he pushed, those eyes holding her in place.

  ‘I don’t see how that’s important.’

  Christos’s eyes stayed fixed on her face for an age, causing her senses to tingle. Making her wonder if he could see her shame. Whether he was judging her for it. ‘It’s important because I don’t want his influence to be the yardstick you judge me by. Tell me, Alexis.’

  Perhaps it was knowing she’d done exactly that that made her confess. ‘He was a junior associate when we met. He needed an assistant who knew what they were doing, who was prepared to go above and beyond. He wanted to be on the fast track to making partner.’

  ‘He spotted your talent and exploited it to his own ends.’

  Her skin tightened in remembered humiliation. ‘Something like that. I set aside my studies to be a paralegal to help him reach his goals. I gave him everything he asked for, told myself it didn’t matter that he wanted to keep our relationship a secret from his friends and colleagues. Then in the week he made partner, I found out he had a long-term fiancée. I confronted him. And...’

  ‘And?’

  ‘He tried to gaslight me. Told me it’d all been in my head. He no-hard-feelingsed his way through it. Said it’d just been a bit of fun. Nothing special.’

  She chanced a furtive glance at him, her breath catching at his livid expression.

  ‘You didn’t believe him, of course,’ he said.

  She glanced away, the indelible reminder of her rejection at birth latching on despite his imperious declaration. ‘Not all of it, no.’

  He caught her chin in his hand, redirected her gaze to his. ‘Believe none of it, Alexis. And trust me when I say users like that never amount to much. But I’m pleased that his loss was my gain.’

  Far too perturbed by how his words made her feel, how very easily they went towards salving the hurt inside her, she tried to move away. His fingers encircled her wrist, holding her still.

  ‘I must insist though that his influence on you ends here. I won’t have our intimacies blemished with him.’

  She huffed at his audacity. ‘You’re the one who brought him up. And how exactly are you going to achieve...whatever it is you’re implying?’

  He gave a shrewd smile and released her. ‘You’ll find out in due course.’

  Alexis forced herself to rise and walk calmly to the edge of the swimming pool. To not give in to the dizzying sensation coursing through her stomach that warned her to flee from the dark promise in Christos’s voice.

  Because rather than be outraged, as she executed a perfect dive into the deliciously cool waters of the pool, all she could feel was...an electric thrill.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FAR FROM DISSIPATING with time, that sensation expanded as the afternoon drifted into evening. Fresh from blow-drying and curling her hair and on her way to the vast dressing room, Alexis stopped in her tracks at the French doors leading to the private terrace, dazzled by the play of brilliant orange and gold light over the turquoise waters.

  She stepped outside, breathing in air redolent with salt, citrus and sunshine, half hoping it would calm some of the chaos raging inside her. She wasn’t surprised when it didn’t, but she still basked in the beauty of her surroundings for another minute before heading back inside.

  Christos had disappeared after the incident by the pool, while she’d retreated to the smaller of the villa’s two libraries, then walked on the beach for an hour before returning indoors.

  She’d been glad for the reprieve from Christos, feeling mildly terrified of what she’d revealed. So what if she fe
lt a little naked and vulnerable after blurting out her pain? But when it came down to it, what could he do with the information? Her emotions hadn’t affected her work so far, and they wouldn’t in the future either.

  Alexis repeated that mantra to herself as she chose a knee-length white dress with a wide black belt and black butterfly-wing sleeves, paired with elegant monochrome platform heels and, for a splash of colour, a jade necklace and earring set she’d treated herself to at Christmas. Two dabs of perfume behind her ears and a dash of lip gloss and she was ready.

  Downstairs, a maid materialised in the hallway and directed her to Costas’s favourite terrace located in the east wing, directly beneath his suite. From memory, she guessed that Christos might be having his pre-dinner ouzo with his grandfather.

  On the cosy little terrace, candles shone from an ornate candelabra, illuminating the exquisitely laid table and bathing its occupants in soft light. Alexis paused, unseen, at the door, the resemblance between the two men with their attention focused intently on each other catching at her.

  Regardless of whatever tensions existed between them, they were family. Devoted to one another on a primal level she’d yearned for since she was old enough to know what family meant. She inhaled shakily, willing the longing away.

  Even if she hadn’t sworn off relationships, attempting to form one with Christos would’ve been foolhardy, especially in light of his unvarnished confirmation that anything that happened between them would be purely physical. Their agreement was still finite, still a quid pro quo arrangement counting down to the moment he took possession of Drakonisos.

  Nevertheless, that curious little fizzing in her belly ignited as her gaze landed on him. She battled the sensation by quickly looking at his grandfather.

  Costas looked much better than he had this afternoon. The lopsided half-smile so reminiscent of his grandson came easier, and there was a tranquillity about him, perhaps now he’d got what he wanted?

  Knowing she risked being rude with her tardiness, she stepped onto the terrace. Christos’s gaze swung to her, then conducted a slow appraisal as he rose and pulled out her chair.

  ‘There you are. I was wondering whether I’d need to come and fetch you.’

  ‘I dissuaded him. I couldn’t risk him getting sidetracked and finding myself once again enjoying dinner for one,’ Costas tagged on dryly.

  Catching his meaning, Alexis couldn’t stop the heat that rushed into her face. Nor could she stop Christos from brushing his lips over one hot cheek in greeting. ‘Be warned, glykia mou. He’s in an incorrigible mood.’

  Pulse racing, she forced a smile as she took her chair, struggling not to breathe in Christos’s mind-scrambling masculine scent. ‘Good evening, Costas. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

  The old man shrugged. ‘I’ve been kept waiting a moment or two in my time. My late wife was fond of telling me that practising patience would earn me rewards. A tough lesson to start off with, but one I eventually learned to appreciate.’

  ‘Wine? Or ouzo?’ Christos offered as he retook his seat.

  She wanted to say neither. The ground hadn’t quite resettled beneath her feet since this afternoon, and she was loath to further upset her equilibrium.

  But, aware of two sets of stormy grey eyes staring at her, she sensed refusing might draw disapproval, maybe even offend her host. ‘I’ll try some ouzo, thanks.’

  Costas smiled, his eyes warming further with approval as he sat back in his chair. ‘Kalos. I have an exclusive ouzo distiller two islands away. He sent this batch in today. Tell me what you think,’ he said, pouring a thankfully small measure of the cloudy white drink into a crystal glass.

  As she accepted the offering, she spotted the Drakonisos label in sleek blue and silver lettering, because of course Christos’s grandfather would have his own brand. A small sip and the aromatic flavour of anise and cardamom burst onto her tongue.

  She’d attended enough functions with Christos to have had the opportunity of sampling ouzo before. But she recognised superiority and authenticity when she tasted it. ‘It’s the best I’ve ever tried,’ she said honestly.

  Costas beamed, then his grandson followed suit with a slow smile that ignited flames at her feet that slowly scorched upward throughout her body.

  She tried to limit herself to small sips but by the time the first course of stuffed vine leaves and roasted peppers was served, Costas was pouring her a second glass.

  By unspoken agreement, she didn’t mention his illness, and neither did Christos. Instead they spoke extensively about his shipping company, with Alexis noting that each time Georgios’s name came up, Christos stiffened.

  ‘Are you looking forward to your party?’ she asked during their main course of moussaka with tomato and feta salad.

  ‘It should be interesting,’ Costas drawled after a contemplative moment, his deep rumbling tone indicative of what his grandson’s would be like in a few decades. ‘There are those who are still curious as to why my grandson chose to marry his bride in secrecy and hasn’t made any attempt to introduce her to other members of his family.’

  Her gaze darted to Christos, her heart thudding at the thought that she’d fallen into a trap. His lips pursed, his eyes flicking away from hers to narrow warningly on Costas. ‘The most important family member has already met my bride. To everyone else, what I do is none of their business.’

  Costas shrugged, a wicked gleam in his eyes. But behind it, she saw a shadow of pain. ‘I’m merely relaying the family’s sentiments. Especially your mother’s.’

  Christos visibly tensed, the hand holding his fork momentarily tightening before he eased his grip. ‘My whereabouts aren’t a state secret. She’s known where I’ve been since the last time we saw each other.’

  ‘Perhaps she didn’t think she’d be welcome,’ Costas parried.

  Christos tossed his napkin on the table and picked up his wine glass. Unlike his grandfather, he’d stuck to a full-bodied Merlot, which he now swirled lazily despite the uneven tic in his jaw. ‘If she wants advance reassurance of what her reception would be, I’m afraid she’s going to be disappointed.’

  Other than a mild grimace, Costas showed no outward sign of censure or disappointment at Christos’s answer. ‘Does the same apply to your father?’

  Christos’s expression grew icier. ‘Ne, very much so.’

  Costas’s gaze turned contemplative as he set his glass down. ‘You inherited many traits from me, including my stubbornness. As much as I want to, I can’t fault you for that. All I can advise is that you limit the fallout.’

  ‘Is this your way of telling me they’re both attending your party?’ Christos bit out.

  ‘Your father is my son, Christos. I cannot forbid him from attending.’

  Christos raised a mocking eyebrow. ‘You expect me to believe that you have no control over your own guest list?’

  Costas bared his teeth, his enjoyment of the tense tussle evident. ‘Maybe I do. But I despise gossip. And news that I’ve banned my own son from attending a birthday celebration is bound to set far too many tongues wagging.’

  ‘You live on a private island and dictate who sets foot on it. I dare say outside gossip doesn’t bother you too much.’

  ‘But its effect on my company’s share value does,’ he retorted. ‘And as a major shareholder, it should matter to you too.’

  Alexis had to hand it to the old man for the neat counterargument. As a top-notch lawyer, Christos had a reputation steeped in solid evidence, but he also understood the power of perception. Any rumours of trouble within the Drakakis family were bound to have public repercussions.

  Silence descended over the table, Christos’s eyes remaining shadowed as he sipped his wine.

  To her relief, the silence was broken a minute later by the arrival of after-dinner coffee. Alexis took the opportunity to make her escape. ‘I�
�m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’ve already passed my two-cups-a-day tally. Another on top of the ouzo will leave me wired and wide awake for hours.’

  A layer of shadow left Christos’s eyes as they rose to meet hers. ‘I’ll be up shortly. Between us I think we can come up with a way to dissipate any nervous energy that needs expending,’ he drawled, the blatant sexual intent behind his words sending a wave of heat into her face.

  Costas laughed at whatever expression she’d shown as she strove for composure. ‘How refreshing to see you can still make your bride blush, Christos.’

  The glare she sent Christos behind her pasted-on smile earned her another heated look. ‘Yes, it is indeed refreshing,’ he concurred.

  ‘I’ll leave you two on this high note you seem to be having. Goodnight.’

  Costas nodded at her, his smile still warm, while Christos merely watched her leave, the hyperawareness sinking into her skin telling her his gaze remained on her until she stepped through the French doors. Alexis chose to dwell on the transformation in the old man, to see it as a win, rather than on the just-for-show sexual gauntlet Christos had tossed at her.

  She fully intended to be in bed, fast asleep, by the time he came up. Going on previous visits, he’d most likely retreat to his study after dinner to check on his priority cases before turning in. She hurried through her bedtime routine, slipping on her peach satin night slip before diving under the covers. She groaned as the sumptuous sheets welcomed her. But an hour later, wide-eyed and heart pounding, she hated herself for listening out for the door.

  She squeezed her eyes shut when Christos turned the handle, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. For the next ten minutes she listened to him moving around his dressing room, images of him undressing infusing further heat through her bloodstream.

  Perhaps it was because she was so preoccupied with calming her runaway libido that she didn’t at first realise what was happening. But when the mattress suddenly shifted, she pivoted towards the man who was easing himself into bed beside her. The half-naked man, dressed in a pair of black silk pyjama bottoms and nothing else.