The Greek's Hidden Vows

by Maya Blake

  He stood with his back to the room, his gaze on the sleek yachts that had started arriving two hours ago. From the buzz around the villa, she knew they belonged to extended family and Costas’s close friends. The remaining guests had started steadily arriving half an hour ago.

  Christos whirled at her approach, his gaze sweeping over her. It lingered at her hips and then he nodded and wordlessly held out his arm.

  He didn’t speak, and she was too wrapped up in containing her dread and hurt, as they made their way downstairs and out to the west terrace where the party was under way.

  The hundred-strong crowd turned in near-unison when they appeared, then the murmurs surged as, one by one, sharply suited men and their stunningly bejewelled women approached to greet Christos and his hitherto unknown bride.

  Normally, Alexis trusted herself on her ability to retain names and details, but after what had happened upstairs, and the ever-intensifying sensation that she might be falling in love with Christos, she soon gave up any hope of recollection.

  They finally reached the guest of honour and Alexis withstood his long enigmatic scrutiny with a tingling sensation before reaching down to brush a kiss on Costas’s cheek. ‘Happy birthday, Costas.’

  He smiled when she straightened. ‘Ne, it’s turning out to be,’ he said cryptically, before turning to his grandson. Their conversation was conducted in Greek before he was drawn away by a small party of guests.

  About to ask Christos as he handed her a glass of champagne what had just happened, she stopped when a man materialised in front of them.

  He was short and stout, older by about a decade than Christos, but his sour expression nevertheless bore the Drakakis stamp. Accompanying him was a tall statuesque blonde, with overplumped lips and a bust that defied gravity. ‘Ah, Christos. Kind of you to grace us with your presence. I was beginning to think Costas’s mind was playing tricks on him when he said you were here.’

  Outwardly, Christos remained unruffled, but the arm beneath hers stiffened. ‘There’s nothing wrong with his memory, Georgios,’ Christos answered and only a fool would’ve failed to catch the sharp warning in his tone.

  Georgios raised his free hand in an exaggerated show of surrender. ‘Of course, of course,’ he said without any hint of remorse, then he turned to Alexis. ‘I’m Georgios Pantelli. This is my wife, Arianna. And this must be your elusive bride, Christos.’

  Alexis held out her hand. ‘I’m Alexis. Good to meet you.’

  Georgios held back from taking it a fraction of a second longer, enough to make her aware of the snub, before taking her hand in his faintly clammy one. His wife’s handshake was equally limp, her eyes mildly hostile as they held Alexis’s.

  ‘What a vision you are,’ Georgios said. ‘Were it not for my own stunning wife, I would think Christos was hiding you away because he’s afraid of the competition.’

  ‘I see you continue to set far too high a premium on your own importance, cousin,’ Christos bit out.

  For a flash of time, Georgios’s eyes turned flinty. Then he was back to pretended suaveness and affability. He even threw in a belly laugh, attracting several gazes. ‘I have missed our little banters, cousin.’ He stepped closer, grabbed Christos’s arm then, in a low tone, added, ‘I have also not forgotten that while you may have had Costas’s attention as a child, it and Drakonisos is now mine, because I have proved myself whereas you have not.’

  Christos bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile as he disengaged himself, a leonine action that sent shivers down her spine. ‘And how do you imagine you have done that?’

  Georgios stepped back, all but preening as he adjusted his lapel. ‘I see you’re out of the loop yet again. Costas is craving a child or two from the next generation to run around this place. And I have a feeling the first one of us to provide him with one will get Drakonisos. And tomorrow morning, I will be proudly informing him that my wife is to bless me with a child in six months’ time. So, you see, I win.’

  Several things happened in the next minute.

  Christos turned statue-still beside her, his face bleeding several shades of colour. At the same time, Alexis’s mind spun a thousand miles an hour. Specifically, to the morning after their night in the cave. Then fast forwarded to tonight, that hedonistic episode in her dressing room.

  Two occasions passion had completely engulfed them.

  Two occasions they’d failed to use protection.

  Grey eyes turbulent with shock and disbelief swivelled towards her. Then his expression slowly morphed to one of dread.

  Her belly fell into a steep dive, just as another man approached. The muted roar in her ears made her miss the upsurge of the crowd’s murmuring. But as she fought to reassure herself nothing was wrong, that her utter foolishness couldn’t...wouldn’t be repaid with another life-altering consequence, the present arrived in a rush, and she felt Christos grow even stiffer beside her.

  Alexis focused every last ounce of attention on the approaching man.

  From the marked resemblance, he had to be Christos’s father.

  Father and son stared at one another for a tight moment before, jaw clenched tight, Christos said, ‘What do you want?’

  Bleakness flashed across the older man’s face before it turned as neutral as his son’s. ‘To have a cordial conversation. It is a party, after all.’

  If anything, the icy anger vibrating off Christos multiplied by a thousand. ‘Cordial?’ he bit out. ‘I highly recommend you double-check the definition of the word before you apply it to yourself, Pateras.’

  A tight little smile curved his father’s lips. ‘At least you still call me Father. I suppose that is a small blessing.’ His gaze shifted to her, then back to his son. ‘Are you going to introduce me?’ he asked.

  Tense silence fell. Then, ‘No.’

  His father’s gaze returned to hers. ‘I’m Agios.’

  Once again she found herself holding out her hand to a relative of Christos’s she wasn’t sure she liked very much. ‘Alexis... Drakakis,’ she added at the last moment, the weight of it shaking through her.

  This time she felt a different energy emanating from Christos. Felt his ferocious gaze on her face for one monumental second before he faced his father again. ‘You’ve made a show of yourself to the crowd. Feel free to leave.’

  A hard, combative light filled his father’s eyes, then it died just as swiftly, leaving him a shadow of himself. ‘Five years I’ve been trying to get you to talk to me. I’d hoped tonight you would spare me a few minutes.’

  That bit of news surprised Alexis. Everything she’d learnt of Agios so far had suggested father and son were mutually estranged. A quick glance showed Christos’s granite-hard face gave no indication of softening. ‘You were wrong. Excuse us.’

  The fingers linking hers were stiff, his grip tight. Reeling from the twin bombshells, she allowed Christos to march her away, her surroundings blurring as stomach-hollowing possibilities filled her mind.

  Once again she found her back pressed against a wall, a short distance away from the party. But where there’d been torrid passion in his face, now there was a rabid watchfulness, as if he wanted to mine the answers from every hidden corner inside her.

  ‘Is there something we need to talk about?’ he breathed. The same energy vibrating through him, the one that felt like a mixture of earthquake, lightning and nuclear explosion held together by the thinnest rope, unravelled inside her.

  Her eyes darted over the guests, attempting to find something...anything to ground her. Because the no that should’ve fallen firmly from her lips was lodged in her throat.

  ‘Alexis.’ It wasn’t a question. More of a dire warning. And something else...

  Something earth-shattering in its ferocity. And even though she knew it was the epitome of folly to look into his eyes in that moment, Alexis raised her gaze, met a cyclone of gr
ey shot through with blinding, unholy light.

  ‘I... I don’t know.’

  His face clenched hard before he exhaled. ‘I accept that I share responsibility for this...state we find ourselves in, but I need a better answer than that.’

  ‘That’s all I can give you right now. I’m not on the pill, and my period is...erratic at best,’ she confessed.

  He seemed transfixed. ‘Thee mou,’ he breathed. ‘So you could be pregnant?’

  ‘Not necessarily. The odds are low,’ she said, mentally calculating frantically.

  A look passed through his eyes, gone as quickly as it arrived. ‘When will you know?’

  ‘A week. Maybe less.’

  Another eternity passed as he stared at her. Then his gaze dropped to her belly. Whatever thought went through his mind evoked a faint trembling in the fingers that raked through his hair a moment later.

  ‘It could be nothing, Christos.’

  ‘Or it could be...the opposite,’ he countered tightly. Laughter and the clink of glasses nearby intruded on their bubble. Mouth firming, he took a step back. ‘This isn’t the right moment to discuss it.’

  They returned to mingle with a new, jagged awareness vibrating between them. Christos barely left her side throughout the long evening. He introduced her to guests with a hand around her waist, which lingered until, the yearning it created unbearable, she found an excuse to pull away.

  Because with each moment that passed, it could be nothing tumbled through her brain, fighting against the soul-shaking need to be something. And each time he touched her, each time he introduced her as his wife and those stormy grey eyes swept over her, her heart yearned harder.

  As the party wound down they gravitated back to Costas, who was holding court with a small group of guests. About to take a seat, she started in surprise when Christos pulled her into his lap. It took every ounce of composure not to stiffen or show her surprise. But she blushed at the few suggestive looks that came their way.

  * * *

  ‘Relax,’ he commanded quietly, his hand planted possessively on her hip.

  But she couldn’t relax. Besides the simple fact that she wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms, Alexis was also aware of Christos’s father’s frequent gaze, the regretful expression that lingered on his son when he thought no one was looking.

  A nerve-shredding hour later, once a few more helicopters had taken off and overnight guests retired to their suites, she took the opportunity to make her escape. ‘I’m tired, I think I’m going to head up.’

  She held her breath as Christos’s arm tightened momentarily before he released her. He got up and started to accompany her inside. ‘I’ll walk you in,’ he said smoothly, his hand capturing hers.

  ‘You don’t have to—’

  ‘Stop, Alexis. We’re past that,’ he interrupted.

  She should’ve taken the hint. Instead, she paused on the first step of the sweeping staircase leading up to their wing, a different subject altogether tumbling from her lips. ‘What about your father? Are you past the right moment to talk to him too?’

  His eyes turned arctic. ‘What?’

  ‘Are you going to avoid him forever? Or just wait until it’s too late to do anything about it?’

  His eyes narrowed in warning. ‘Be careful, Alexis. You tread on dangerous ground.’

  ‘Do I?’ she dared, because that need wedged tight beneath her breastbone wouldn’t be silenced. The last hour had shown her the type of family she and Christos could have. The type she’d yearned for all her life. Sitting there, with the knowledge that their blind passion could have unexpected results, had only intensified that need. ‘I know what he did to you was painful, but I think he regrets it. You should give him a—’

  She paused, catching movement behind Christos’s shoulder. A moment later, the man in question appeared.

  Spotting him, Christos stiffened.

  ‘Christos, I really must talk to you,’ his father said, his voice ringed with authority she’d heard many times from his son.

  Sensing he was about to refuse again, she spoke. ‘Go ahead, Christos. I need to call Sophie, anyway.’

  He knew it was an excuse and his lips firmed. But before she could make her escape, he caught her hand, leaned in close and brushed his lips over her temple. ‘Enjoy your temporary reprieve,’ he murmured in her ear before pulling away.

  He strode away briskly, not sparing his father a glance. But a minute later, she heard the study door open and shut. Only then did she run upstairs, her stomach muscles weak as jelly.

  All through undressing and readying for bed, the jittery feeling continued. It was as she slid into bed, the luxury comforter enclosing her body, that she accepted the truth.

  She was in love with Christos.

  And against all the odds, against the self-preservation she’d sworn to keep in place after Adrian, she’d arrived in a situation that now promised to deliver the very thing she’d craved her whole life.

  Beneath the covers, her hand slid over her stomach, a fresh shudder—this one of quiet awe—moving within her.

  Pregnant.

  She could be pregnant.

  That thought beating an ever-increasing drumbeat inside her, Alexis expected to remain awake, her senses alert for Christos’s arrival.

  * * *

  Christos entered the study, impatience, anxiety and terror mingling in a toxic cocktail inside him. He’d thought himself immune to his father’s effect on him but the moment he turned to face him he knew he wasn’t. Perhaps he would never be. All the more reason to stay away from him. He started towards the door, cursing himself for listening to Alexis. ‘This was a mistake—’

  ‘Running away won’t resolve this, son.’

  He whirled back, righteous anger replacing the dread. ‘Excuse me? How dare you!’

  ‘That’s right, get angry. I’ll take that over the silence and icy indifference,’ his father replied, shattered bleakness in his eyes.

  ‘Whatever it is you’re trying to achieve here, you’d better choose your words carefully,’ he warned.

  Agios sighed, walked over to the sofa and dropped heavily into it. ‘I’m trying to say that I deserve your anger. That you have every right to feel it.’

  Something attempted to crack open in his chest. He held it in place with sheer willpower. ‘Thanks for the permission,’ he replied sardonically.

  His father’s lips twisted. ‘All the while I thought you’d been spared...’ He paused, shook his head. ‘I see you weren’t. You’re too much your father’s son, Christos.’

  Icy dread froze his spine. ‘No! I’m nothing like you.’ He couldn’t be. Not when he’d striven to remove himself from the volatility of his upbringing. Not when he’d cut off all feeling lest he be plagued with the overabundance of the wrong type of emotion the way his parents had.

  But what if he hadn’t escaped?

  What if the child Alexis possibly carried was doomed because of it? The very possibility made his breath catch painfully.

  ‘Son? What is—’

  ‘Say what you want to say and let’s be done.’ He needed time to think. Time to wean himself off that traitorous swell of pure joy he’d felt when Alexis had laid the possibility that she might be pregnant at his feet. He needed to replace it with the far more acceptable reality that he couldn’t do this. He had neither the tools nor the road map to make even a halfway decent attempt at fatherhood. Because of the man in front of him.

  Agios sighed again. ‘I want... I’ve wanted all these years...to ask for your forgiveness.’

  That fracture returned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because what I did to you, to your mother, was wrong. I let my bitterness get the better of me. The moment your mother threatened to leave me, I... I just...’ He stopped, shook his head. ‘We shouldn’t have put you in the middle of ou
r problems. I know your mother feels the same—’

  ‘It’s too late,’ he snapped, because he was in danger of reverting into that little boy again, craving the affection and attention he’d sorely lacked. But he was a grown man. ‘You’re thirty years too late. You need to live with the fact that your actions created a monster.’ And because of that, whatever he’d been foolishly hoping might happen with Alexis could never be. She deserved so much more. More than he could ever give her. The truth shook through him until his guts threatened to turn themselves inside out. Until his very skin was icy cold with the realisation.

  ‘Christos—’

  ‘Goodbye, Father.’

  He walked out, an altered man from the one who’d entered.

  Because all the joy was gone. And yes, it was for the best.

  * * *

  Alexis opened her eyes to bright sunlight and the cold, empty space beside her. Unease rapidly built inside her when, sitting up and looking around her, she spotted the two large suitcases near the doorway to Christos’s dressing room.

  The man himself entered from the living room a moment later. He froze, his gaze combing over her in fierce possession before he reeled himself under control. But in that split moment, she caught surprise, then resignation, which made the stone in her belly even heavier.

  She clutched the sheet to her chest, trying to shake the confusion from her head.

  ‘You didn’t come to bed last night.’

  Savage hunger blazed in his eyes for a nanosecond before his expression closed, his movements unhurried as he secured his favoured ultra-thin Vacheron Constantin watch on his wrist. ‘No.’

  When she realised he wouldn’t elaborate, she pressed, ‘Why are you packed? Are you...are we leaving?’

  ‘I’m flying to Athens. Demitri’s ex has agreed to the terms. He wants to secure the custody agreement before she changes her mind.’

  Alexis frowned, even as she shifted to get out of bed. ‘Okay, I’ll start packing—’

  ‘No. You’ll stay here.’

  She froze, inside and out. ‘But... I’m your assistant. And I always travel with you. You’ll need me to—’