The Greek's Hidden Vows

by Maya Blake

  He winced at the barb. ‘You want to hurt me. I fully deserve it.’

  ‘What makes you think I care at all one way or the other?’

  Again something resembling agony slashed his face. ‘Because I’m a stubborn fool, Alexis. A stubborn fool who ran scared because he couldn’t handle the possibility of accepting the one thing he craved above all else.’

  A tremble started at her feet and unravelled upwards. ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘To know that someone cared for me. Enough to reach out. To put me first, like my parents never did. Everything you said to me that morning, I yearned to grasp with both hands. But—’

  ‘But experience has taught you that reaching out comes with a price. A price of rejection?’

  ‘Exactly so. Even accepting my father’s remorse felt impossible. Every second he was talking I believed there’d be a catch. That he would rip my heart out all over again. But because of you, I’m finally able to entertain the possibility that he’s changed. That he regrets what he did.’

  ‘I’m so sorry you went through that, but... Christos, I can’t be around someone who clings to past pain the way you do, or anyone who throws me away like you did. You were the one who urged me to let go of my hang-ups about Adrian, remember? Isn’t it time to take your own advice? I know I’m not that special but—’

  ‘How can you even doubt it for a second?’ he burst out, an angry edge in his tone. ‘Don’t you know how special you are, Alexis? That you can look forward with hope despite what you’ve been through? To claim your child without an iota of doubt that you’ll be a much better mother than your own was to you?’

  Her heart lurched as anguish returned tenfold. ‘I don’t... I’m not pregnant, Christos. I think you should know that before—’

  His eyes shadowed but he nodded. ‘I know. You would’ve told me by now if you were. That’s the sort of person you are.’

  Her heart twisted harder, the longing in her soul too large to contain. ‘Then you don’t need to make any declarations.’

  ‘But I want to. Your fierce resilience, your belief that we can do this together...be what our own parents couldn’t. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.’

  A flash of hurt crossed her eyes and she stepped away. ‘The only thing?’

  He groaned. ‘No. I’ve missed you, Alexis. So damn much. I can’t walk into a room without looking for you. I can’t sleep, I can barely eat. Your absence cuts me like a knife.’

  ‘And yet you managed to stay away for weeks.’

  ‘Because I didn’t think I deserved you. I still don’t believe it. But you were right. I’m greedy. The things I love, I want to have close and—’

  ‘Wait...the things...you love?’ she echoed faintly.

  Regret filmed his eyes. ‘I hate that I’ve triggered this hesitancy in you. You should know how special you are, my beautiful Alexis. How deeply and irrevocably I love you. Long before you gave yourself to me on my beach. Long before I accepted that you were as vital to me as the air I breathe.’

  Every fibre of her being shook. ‘Christos...’

  He cupped her cheeks, an intensity blazing in his eyes that threatened to brand her forever. ‘Give me another chance. Please tell me there’s a place in your future for me even though I don’t deserve you.’

  ‘You said that already,’ she said, her voice a tremulous mess.

  ‘And I’ll probably say it again because... I’m nothing without you, agapita.’

  ‘You...love me? Truly?’ she whispered.

  ‘With every cell in my body. Every beat of my heart. Se agapo, Alexis.’

  She felt the sensation deep within, transforming her with the kind of joy she’d only dreamed about. The kind she’d yearned for as a child, then searched for in the wrong place before discovering the right man.

  His fingers trailed down her cheek, something close to awe filling his eyes. ‘The way you look at me, Alexis. It fills my heart to the brim. Even if you don’t love me—’

  ‘Oh, Christos, I love you too!’ she interjected before her heart burst wide open.

  Emotion visibly shuddered through him as she saw her joy reflected in his eyes. ‘Say it again, koukla mou.’

  ‘I love you. So, so much.’

  She fell into his arms, and they kissed. And when need built into an inferno, she dragged him to the study floor, their clothes hurriedly discarded.

  ‘You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,’ he confessed roughly.

  Her laughter was pure delight. ‘I have some idea.’

  ‘Good, then you’re prepared.’

  When he surged inside her, they both froze, their eyes locked on one another as love and lust and joy spun through them.

  ‘I love you,’ he groaned. ‘Marry me again, Alexis. In front of every undeserving family member I have, this time. Give me the honour of being the father of your children?’

  ‘Yes, Christos. To all of it.’

  * * *

  Nine months and one week later, Christos passed shaky fingers through his hair as he paced the private hospital room.

  Perhaps that was to be his fate, to tremble before the woman he loved for all eternity. As sacrifices went, it was one he would willingly perform over and over. For the gift of Alexis. And the new gift they were about to be blessed with.

  ‘Something funny?’ The wife of his heart and soul gasped, before sending a glare his way.

  ‘No, my love.’

  ‘Good. Now get over here. I can feel another contraction about to rip me apart.’

  He did as he was told, linked his fingers with hers, pressed his lips against her temple and held on tight as she brought their child into the world.

  A thankfully short hour later, their miracle was placed in their arms. Christos took one look at Diana, his baby girl, and fell head over heels in love for the second time in his life.

  ‘Kalosorizo, glykia mou,’ he rasped, his throat tight with emotion. ‘Welcome.’

  ‘Oh, Christos. She’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Almost as beautiful as her mama,’ he said, unable to contain the joy moving through him.

  ‘Come here, I want to hold both of you,’ she insisted.

  She made space on the bed and held out her arms. He perched beside her, his lips dropping a soft kiss on his daughter’s head, before pressing a deeper kiss on his wife’s lips. ‘I still don’t deserve you,’ he murmured.

  Her face creased in a smile. ‘You’ve given me your heart, and the family of my soul. I want nothing more than to love you as you love me.’

  ‘I do, Alexis. You have made me the happiest man on earth.’

  They stared down at their baby for a few lovestruck minutes before she looked up. ‘How much time do we have before Costas and your parents summon us for another visit?’

  ‘Probably a week, maybe two. Costas believes he’s found his second wind after his operation and wants to expend all his energy on his great-granddaughter.’

  ‘I can’t wait to show Diana her true home.’ The home Costas had signed over to him without reservation six months ago after admitting his machinations had been to shake Christos out of his apathy and into fighting harder for the family he deserved. The place where he’d started to rebuild his relationship with his parents, thanks to Alexis’s encouragement and support.

  ‘No, agape mou. Home is wherever you are. Drakonisos is special because it’s where we first loved each other.’

  Her arms tightened, and Christos’s heart sang. Because he knew, in her arms, he would always find love. And home.

  * * *

  Swept away by The Greek’s Hidden Vows? Why not also explore these other Maya Blake stories?

  Claiming My Hidden Son

  Bound by My Scandalous Pregnancy

  Kidnapped for His Royal Heir

  The Sicil
ian’s Banished Bride

  The Commanding Italian’s Challenge

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from The Billion-Dollar Bride Hunt by Melanie Milburne.

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Escape to exotic locations where passion knows no bounds.

  Welcome to the glamorous lives of royals and billionaires, where passion knows no bounds. Be swept into a world of luxury, wealth and exotic locations.

  8 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!

  The Billion-Dollar Bride Hunt

  by Melanie Milburne

  CHAPTER ONE

  EMMALINE WOODCROFT WAS basking in the glow of yet another successful match between two of her dating agency clients when her secretary-cum-receptionist, Paisley, came into her office and informed her she had a walk-in who insisted on seeing her immediately.

  ‘Male or female?’ Emmie asked, putting her mobile phone back down on the desk.

  Paisley pressed her back firmly against Emmie’s office door, as if worried the client would stride in without waiting for permission. ‘Male.’ There was a slightly breathless quality to her voice and she added, ‘Tall, very tall, good-looking. Italian, I think, going by the accent. Designer suit. But why he would want to engage a professional match-making service is beyond me. I’d have him in a heartbeat if I wasn’t already engaged.’

  A tingle of intrigue tiptoed across Emmie’s scalp on tiny stilettoed feet. A new client was always a good thing and a handsome one a bonus. And, given he was a walk-in, it confirmed to her that setting up a small bricks-and-mortar London office as well as her online platform had been a good idea. Spontaneous decisions to engage her match-making services often produced the best results. It was when people let their guard down, inspired by an in-the-moment impulse. ‘Send him in.’

  Paisley’s eyes sparkled and she said sotto voce, ‘Brace yourself, Emmie. You’re not going to believe how off-the-scale handsome he is. He quite took my breath away.’ She disappeared out through the door. A few moments later the door opened again, and a tall suited man stepped into Emmie’s office and closed the door behind him with a firm click that sent a shiver coursing down her spine.

  ‘Ms Emmaline Woodcroft? Matteo Vitale.’

  If his looks hadn’t been enough to send her senses spinning, the mellifluous tone of his voice with its distinctive Italian accent more than finished the job. At least six-foot-four but possibly half an inch or so more, he made her office seem tiny. Well, tinier than it already was. He had olive-toned skin and thick jet-black hair that was neither short nor long but somewhere in between. He was clean shaven but his late-in-the-day stubble was generously distributed along the lean landscape of his jawline and around his nose and mouth.

  His mouth...

  Emmie’s breath stalled in her throat and a quiver went through her entire body. His mouth was the sort of mouth that would have sent Michelangelo rushing off to sharpen his chisels and restock on marble—a fuller lower lip with a thinner top one that was perfectly balanced by a deep ridge below his long, straight nose. It was a sensual mouth tempered by a hint of stubbornness, perhaps even a streak of ruthlessness. He had prominent ink-black eyebrows that would have met in the middle except for the two-pleated shallow groove of what looked to be a perpetual frown.

  But it was his eyes that stopped Emmie’s heart. With his Italian, olive-toned colouring she had expected dark-brown or hazel eyes, but they were an unusual shade of blue. They reminded her of an uncharted ocean, the unknowable depths giving no clue whether danger or buried treasure were hidden beneath.

  Matteo strode across the carpet to stand in front of her desk, proffering his hand across the top. She slowly rose from her chair, because for some strange reason her legs were decidedly unsteady, and slipped her hand into the firm, warm cage of his. His long, tanned fingers pressed against hers and she gulped back an involuntary swallow. A tingle scuttled down the backs of her legs like a small startled creature.

  ‘How do you do? Oh, and please call me Emmie.’

  ‘Emmie.’ Matteo said her name unlike anyone had ever said it before, his accent leaning a little heavily on the second syllable, making it sound more like Em-meee.

  She had to remind herself to take back her hand because she was tempted to let it stay exactly where it was—captured in the warm, dry enclosure of his. She eased out of his light grasp, but her fingers tingled and the palm of her hand fizzed as if some strange energy had passed from his body to hers.

  The energy moved further through her body like the powerful rays of a heat lamp, searing warmth that lit tiny spot fires in each of her erogenous zones. Zones that had lain dormant for so long it was a shock to feel them stirring into life now. Every millimetre of her skin was intensely aware of him. Aware of his towering presence, his penetrating gaze, his arrant maleness, his commanding, take-charge air.

  Emmie waved her hand towards the velvet-covered chair opposite her desk. ‘Please, take a seat.’

  ‘Thank you.’ His deep voice sent another shockwave of awareness through her, so too did the sharp citrus top-notes of his aftershave. Lemon and lime with a hint of something a little more exotic in the base notes that made her nostrils flare and her pulse throb.

  Emmie sat back down before her trembling legs gave way beneath her. She had no idea why this man was having such a potent effect on her. She met dozens, hundreds, of men in her line of business and not one of them had caused her body to react like a star-struck teenager in front of a rock star. Even seated Matteo Vitale was so tall, her neck muscles pinched as she craned her neck back to maintain eye contact.

  ‘So, how may I help you, Mr Vitale?’ She activated her best business-like tone but something about the glint in his dark blue eyes was cynical, perhaps even a little mocking.

  ‘You’re a professional match-maker, correct?’

  ‘Yes. I individually profile my clientele and help them to find a partner who will be perfect for them in every—’

  ‘I need a wife.’ His blunt statement and the determined set to his mouth made her sit up straighter in her chair.

  ‘I see. Well, then, you’ve come to the right person because I have successfully matched many couples who to date are still all happily together. Emmie’s Magical Match-Ups has a track record I’m enormously proud of, and I know it’s because I take the time to get to know each of my clients personally before I find them the love of their life.’

  One side of his mouth lifted but it would be a stretch to call it anything near a smile. If anything, it matched the cynical glint in his eyes that seemed as perpetual as his frown. ‘I don’t want a long-term wife. Only one who will stick around long enough to provide me with an heir.’

  Emmie blinked, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. She moistened her suddenly paper-dry lips and shifted slightly in her chair. ‘So...you’re not looking for love?’

  ‘No.’ His flat tone and cynical expression seemed to suggest he didn’t believe the concept even existed. ‘My father died recently and, unbeknownst to me, added a codicil to his will. I will not be able to inherit my father’s large estate in Umbria, which has been in my family for generations, unless I marry and produce an heir within a year.’

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss—’

  ‘Save your condolences. We weren’t close.’ His dismissive tone irked her and intrigued her in equal measure. What sort of relationship had he had with his father for his father to have added such an unusual codicil to his will? A large Umbrian estate meant there was a lot of money at stake, but Matteo Vitale didn’t look like the sort of man who had to rely on a family inheritance to get by. His suit was bespoke, his shoes hand-stitched Italian leather, his beguiling cologne certainly not one of those cheap knockoffs you could pick up at any discount outlet.

  His name rang a faint bell in her head... Hadn’t she seen an article about him in the press
a few months back about his work as a forensic accountant? He had uncovered a massive fraudulent operation during a high-profile divorce case. It had involved millions of pounds of cleverly hidden money but Matteo had uncovered it all. How galling it must have been to find out his father had hidden this codicil from him until it was too late to do anything to change his father’s mind.

  Emmie still had both her parents and, while she wasn’t as close to her father as her mother since their divorce during her teens after her cancer diagnosis, she couldn’t imagine not grieving for him. Nor could she imagine her father adding such a codicil to his will, because he of all people knew the last thing she could ever do was provide an heir.

  ‘Look, Mr Vitale, I don’t think I’m the right person to help you after all. My focus is on finding true love for my clients, not finding a womb for hire.’ She began to push back her chair to bring the meeting to a close but something about his expression made her sit back down again.

  The silence was palpable. It seemed to press in from all four corners of the room, robbing the air of oxygen until Emmie found it hard to expand her lungs enough to take a breath.

  ‘I’m prepared to pay well above your normal fee.’ His tone was coolly business-like. She knew she should inform him that no price would allow her to compromise her professional reputation by taking on a brief so far outside what she normally did for her clients. But something about that ever-so-brief flicker of pain in his gaze captivated her.

  Emmie studied him for a moment, scanning his features for any further sign of vulnerability, but there was none. He could have been carved from stone. ‘How do you know I won’t name a price more than your family estate is worth?’

  ‘I’ve researched you. You’re expensive but your clients get what they pay for. And, as you say, your success rate is commendable. I’ll pay you three or four times what you normally charge.’