From beautiful to battered bride in the space of a heartbeat…okay, weeks, Alesha corrected grimly as she closed the water dial, caught up a towel and wrapped it round her slender curves.
Leading, she admitted, to the most painful months of her life as she had weathered the aftermath, regained her self-respect…dammit, her very identity.
Together with a resolve never to allow anyone to get close enough to earn her personal trust again. A fact she’d set down in stone, with a frozen heart and a cool, determined brain.
The evening stretched ahead, and one she’d choose to fill after a light meal with a few hours spent on her laptop, catch the late news on television…then bed.
It seemed like a plan, albeit a familiar one as she swept the length of her hair into a careless knot, donned underwear before adding comfortable jeans and a singlet top.
The message light was blinking on her answering machine as she entered the kitchen, and she crossed to the servery, took up a pen, pulled the message pad forward and pressed the play button.
“Alesha. Loukas Andreou.” His voice was deep, husky, with a slight accented inflection that curled round her nerve-ends and tugged a little. It wasn’t a feeling she coveted, and she drew in a calming breath as she noted down the number he recited. “Call me.”
A soft curse emerged from her lips, and she rolled her eyes in silent self-castigation. He wasn’t wasting any time.
So make the call. The sooner she dealt with him, the better.
He picked up on the third ring. ‘Andreou.’
‘Alesha,’ she informed him matter-of-factly.
‘Have you eaten?’
‘I’m about to.’ It would take only minutes to assemble a salad and enjoy her solitary meal. ‘Why?’
‘I’ll collect you in ten minutes.’
Who does he think he is? Don’t go there.
‘If you’re issuing an invitation,’ she managed silkily, ‘it’s polite to request, not demand.’
‘I’ll make a note of it.’
Was there a smidgen of mild amusement apparent in his response?
‘Ten minutes.’ He cut the connection, and left her silently fuming and on the verge of calling back to insist she meet him at a nominated venue.
Except it would seem petty, and not the action of a woman in control. Or one determined to treat this meeting with prosaic common sense.
There was the need to change. Comfortable well-worn jeans, a casual top, her dark hair caught in a careless knot and anchored there with a large clip, bare feet, and no make-up didn’t comprise fitting attire in which to dine out.
There was a part of her that felt inclined to slip her feet into trainers, collect her car keys, wallet, and leave.
Except her absence wouldn’t achieve a thing.
So, get over it, she admonished silently as she changed into tailored trousers and a buttoned blouse. She added a dash of colour to her lips, fixed her hair, then selected a fashionable jacket and slid her feet into killer heels.
Her intercom buzzed as she collected a clutch purse, and she picked up, clarified Loukas Andreou’s image on the security monitor, then uttered a brisk—‘I’m on my way down.’
His height and breadth of shoulder seemed vaguely intimidating, his hard, strong-boned facial features arresting in the early evening light. Black tailored trousers, a white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a black butter-soft leather jacket lent a casual sophisticated look…one she knew to be deceiving, given the power he wielded in the business arena.
‘Loukas.’ Her greeting was polite, almost formal as dark eyes seared her own, and for a moment she experienced the strangest feeling that time stood still. Then it was gone.
‘Shall we get this over and done with?’
Was that a faint edge of humour apparent, or simply a trick of the light? She couldn’t be sure in the brief instant before he stood to one side and indicated the black Aston Martin parked in the forecourt.
She walked at his side to the car, aware of his close proximity as he opened the passenger door and saw her seated before crossing to slip in behind the wheel.
There was an unwanted sense of nervousness she strove hard to hide as he fired the engine and eased the powerful car onto the road.
A shared meal, during which she’d state her perspective, negotiate…and hopefully resolve the terms of Dimitri’s will to their mutual satisfaction.
In a short space of time Loukas drew the Aston Martin to a halt at the entrance to the Ritz-Carlton hotel and organized valet parking.
Pleasant choice, Alesha approved, having dined in the restaurant on a few occasions.
Except once inside the foyer Loukas indicated the lift.
‘My suite will afford us some privacy.’
Her nerve-ends coiled in painful protest at the thought of being alone with him. ‘I’d prefer the restaurant.’
‘And risk public scrutiny?’ he elaborated quietly. ‘Possibly be overheard or photographed discussing a private matter?’
The fact that he was right didn’t help much. Speculation would run rife soon enough when Loukas Andreou’s continued presence in Sydney was noted. Especially when his extensive shareholding in Karsouli became known.
There was little she could do but acquiesce, albeit with some reluctance, duly observed, she noted as she bore Loukas’ slightly hooded gaze as they rode the lift to his designated floor.
You can do this, a silent voice bade as she watched Loukas swipe a card and usher her into his suite. Loukas had her late father’s trust. Otherwise Dimitri would never have structured his will the way he had.
Would he?
Dear God, how would she know…for sure?
With both parents gone, she had become very selective in whom she chose to confide in. Not even Lacey, a dear friend from childhood, knew everything about her first marriage. Some details were too personal…too hurtful to divulge.
‘Relax,’ Loukas drawled. ‘I’m not about to hit on you.’
Alesha directed him a level look. ‘I would deal with it if you did.’ Hadn’t she trained hard to effectively do so?
He shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it onto the large king-size bed, then he undid the cuffs on his shirt and turned them back twice, revealing muscular forearms sprinkled with dark hair.
‘Can I take your jacket?’
‘I’m fine, thanks.’
‘Why don’t you take a seat?’ He indicated a comfortable chair. ‘Would you like something to drink?’
‘Can we pass on the social niceties and go straight to the matter at hand?’
He regarded her carefully for several long seconds, and she glimpsed a muscle tighten at the edge of his jaw.
‘By all means,’ he concurred with deliberate indolence. ‘Then we’ll eat.’
Alesha was so tempted to vent. Anger had built to a point where throwing a hissy fit would at least relieve some of her angst. Yet, conversely, it was probably exactly what he expected of her.
‘The terms of my father’s will are unconscionable.’
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. ‘Apropos the marriage clause?’
‘You agree with it?’ Her eyes widened measurably. ‘What manner of man are you?’
‘One who prefers to embark on marriage with an honest foundation at its base.’
The look she gave him should have shrivelled him on the spot. Except it had no effect whatsoever.
‘Oh…please. Let’s not forget the primary focus.’
‘Karsouli?’
Alesha allowed herself a faintly bitter smile. ‘Dimitri’s trump card.’
Loukas offered a thoughtful look. ‘Perhaps.’
She stilled, suddenly alert. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Dimitri made a few errors in financial judgement in recent months.’
Her shock was real and barely masked. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘The global economic climate worked against him, so too did his failing health.’
Failing health? ‘He was killed
in a car accident.’
Loukas’ gaze didn’t waver. ‘Your father risked heart failure unless he agreed to undergo heart transplant surgery. He refused, and bartered a deal with me to safeguard Karsouli.’ He waited a beat. ‘And you.’
No. The word echoed as a silent scream, and the blood chilled in her veins.
Oh, dear God.
‘Karsouli needed a large injection of cash in order to remain solvent.’
‘How much?’ The demand almost choked her.
‘Half a billion dollars.’
That much?
Selling off a twenty-five-per-cent share represented the injection of cash. The gift via Dimitri’s will, conditional on marriage, would have been a sufficiently attractive enticement.
Karsouli would survive and flourish beneath Loukas Andreou’s skilled leadership.
Of which she would become a joint partner and director. There was just one major snag… In order to achieve both, she had to agree to marry Loukas Andreou.
Two pluses versus one minus.
Alesha took a deep calming breath…not that it had any effect. ‘I’ll need to verify those facts.’
‘Of course. I have certified copies of relevant documentation for you to peruse.’
Somehow she didn’t expect any less of him. Even given the advantage of his father’s success, Loukas appeared very much an achiever determined to forge his own destiny, both professionally and personally.
She accepted the paperwork, took time to read and absorb the data, aware of a sinking heart with every page.
The slim hope there might be a mistake disappeared as she was forced to face the inevitable.
With care she placed the papers onto the table, then met his hooded gaze. ‘Why did you sanction Dimitri’s terms?’
One eyebrow lifted. ‘The truth? His request coincided with a promise I had made to my own father to marry and provide an heir.’
‘How noble,’ Alesha accorded sweetly. ‘To sacrifice yourself out of duty and family loyalty.’ She sharpened a figurative barb. ‘Were none of the many women who attach themselves to you suitable wife material?’
His features assumed musing cynicism. ‘No.’
‘What if I choose to contest the marriage clause?’
His eyes speared her own, dark with dangerous intent, and belying the quiet purpose in his voice.
‘Should you refuse, the purchase will fall through. I’ll sell the twenty-five-per-cent shares comprising Dimitri’s bequest, and you will be placed in an invidious financial position.’
Forced to take on a partner and possibly face a takeover bid. Thereby losing everything her father had achieved. All she’d lived and breathed for as long as she could remember.
Anger, resentment, dammit—grief, welled up inside. So many emotions…consuming, invasive, and in that moment uncontrolled.
She stood and turned towards the door. ‘Go to hell.’
CHAPTER TWO
‘I SUGGEST you think before you walk out that door,’ Loukas cautioned with dangerous quietness. ‘Or the hell you’d consign me to will be your own.’
His meaning was icily clear, and had a sobering effect.
Pride and anger held no place in Dimitri’s diabolical scheme.
Walk…and Alesha would lose the one thing she considered to be the most important entity in her life.
Could she trust Loukas? Dear heaven. If not him…who?
At least he had a vested interest in Karsouli; he possessed the skill and expertise to assume dual directorship; add considerable financial resources…
It was no contest.
Except she was damned if she’d give in easily.
For the space of a few seconds she closed her eyes, then opened them again, took a deep calming breath and turned slowly to face him.
There was an inherent strength apparent, an entity that went deep beneath the surface. An indomitable sense of power that made him both an invaluable ally and feared adversary.
But as a husband? Lover?
An instant recall of what she’d suffered at Seth’s hands sent apprehension feathering her spine.
Don’t go there.
One man’s manic proclivities were not those of all men.
Unbidden, her teeth worried the inner fullness of her lower lip.
Yet how could she know for sure?
Seth had played the perfect part as loving fiancé, adoring new husband…until she had refused to concede to his demands.
A sudden bleakness clouded her eyes. A shadow of pain which appeared so fleetingly Loukas almost missed it, and his gaze narrowed.
‘If the deal didn’t include marriage, I’d be ecstatic.’
‘Nevertheless, it does.’
‘Unfortunately.’
On some level she got the loyalty thing. Matchmaking suitable partners from two eminently suitable families. A little devious manipulation added to the mix, and voilà…the convenient marriage scenario intended to safeguard the family fortunes and ensure the continuation of a dynasty.
‘Yes or no, Alesha.’ His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and unwavering as they regarded her.
It had to be yes. There was no way she could countenance Karsouli slipping ignominiously between the cracks to disappear in the belly of iniquity.
‘I have no choice but to agree, subject to certain conditions.’
There was a strength apparent in her demeanour, a determination he could only admire given she’d taken a king-hit about the true state of her father’s corporation.
‘Name them.’ His voice held a silkiness she chose to ignore.
‘I retain my position in Karsouli.’
Loukas inclined his head in agreement. ‘Naturally.’
Now for the cruncher. ‘A separate suite of rooms in whatever home we share.’
His gaze narrowed. ‘Your reason being?’
She kept her eyes steady on his. ‘A personal preference.’
‘Based on?’
‘A need for my own space.’
He regarded her in silence for several timeless seconds. ‘The same bedroom, separate beds.’ He waited a beat. ‘Until you feel comfortable sharing mine.’
As if that were going to happen any time soon. ‘It isn’t fair you get to dictate all the terms.’
‘Be grateful I’ve conceded one of them.’
But not for long. Apprehension rose like a spectre, and for one wild moment she wondered at her sanity in aligning herself with a man such as him.
‘So, on that basis, I should fawn at your feet and express undying gratitude?’
A faint quirk lifted the corner of his mouth. ‘For saving Karsouli?’
‘Of course.’ Her response held a certain dryness that didn’t fool him in the slightest.
Honesty, at a cost. With no attempt to hide it beneath any number of platitudes. Strength and a degree of fragility, he mused, made for an intriguing mix.
Loukas retrieved the in-room dining menu, opened it at the appropriate page and handed it to her. ‘Choose what you’d like, and I’ll order dinner.’
Food? The mere thought of ingesting anything was enough to send her stomach into immediate revolt.
‘I’m not hungry.’ What was more, she wanted out of here. Away from this forceful man who held her fate in his hands.
She caught up her bag and slung the strap over one shoulder. ‘I should leave.’
His eyes seared hers. ‘We’re not done.’
She took the few steps to move past him, only to come to a halt mere inches from where he stood. ‘Yes, we are.’
‘We’ll share a meal, discuss wedding arrangements and relevant details, then I’ll return you to your apartment.’
Alesha tilted her head a little. ‘So…sit down, be quiet, and bow my head in polite servitude?’
She could almost swear she caught a faint gleam of humour on his handsome face, but then it was gone. ‘I doubt the latter two form part of your repertoire.’
‘How perceptive of you.’ S
weet, she could do sweet, although it was impossible he missed the faint edge apparent in her voice.
Loukas offered her the menu. ‘Choose, Alesha. Or I’ll order for you.’
A starter would be all she could manage, and she selected one, then attempted to tune out as he picked up the phone.
A difficult feat, when the fine edge of awareness curled around her nerve-ends and heightened the tension she experienced in his presence.
A sophisticated strategist, he bore the persona of a man well versed in the ways of humankind, with the ability to see through any deliberate orchestration.
Had anyone tested his control…and escaped unscathed?
Stupid question. Why even go there? Loukas Andreou was an entity unto himself…indomitable, inviolate, and utterly ruthless.
But what of the essence of the man…as a friend, lover, husband? Would he be capable of gifting a degree of affection? Caring?
Or would she merely become a trophy wife…soothed by an enviable lifestyle and expensive gifts? Her life a mere facsimile?
The question had to be, was retaining Karsouli worth a marriage she didn’t want to a man who placed financial assets above all else?
Get over yourself, she denounced in silent chastisement. You thought you had love first time round, only to discover to your cost that it was nothing more than a nebulous dream.
At least marriage to Loukas would be unclouded by sentiment. A business arrangement she entered into with her eyes wide open…nothing more, nothing less.
Their meal, when it arrived, was beautifully presented, although Alesha barely tasted a thing as she forked morsels of food with mechanical precision.
‘I have the application for a special licence,’ Loukas informed her as they shared coffee. ‘It requires your signature. I foresee the marriage ceremony going ahead on Friday.’
‘This Friday?’
His eyes seared her own. ‘Is that a problem?’
You’re joking, right?
‘Why the hurry?’ she managed, and quelled the sudden onset of nerves playing havoc with her stomach as he queried reasonably,
‘Why delay?’
Sure, and she was ready for this?
Take a reality check. A week, a month—even a year down the track, and she’d still never be ready to embark on another marriage.
The Andreou Marriage Arrangement Page 2
