by Kali Anthony
Christo sat on the couch in jeans and a T-shirt, the clothes soft and well worn. His shirt looked bound to the sculpted muscles of his chest and biceps. The jeans outlined his powerful thighs. Her stomach flipped with a curious disappointment. But no, she definitely didn’t miss the expanse of bronzed skin and naked torso he’d subjected her to as he’d slept on his huge bed.
Out of suit trousers and bespoke shirts he looked young. Thea supposed he was—though at thirty-one Christo was hardly Greece’s youngest billionaire. And, unlike his usual stern poise during the day when his employees were present, tonight there was something almost approachable about him, with his hair raked through and messy, a few strands falling across his brow.
The observation tugged low and warm in her belly, pooling in a way that made her shift on the spot. But it was something on which she refused to dwell. Instead, she did a prancing little twirl.
‘I wasn’t sure how to dress.’ She waved her hands between them as she looked down at her black leggings and oversized grey top. ‘For this...assignation.’
His eyes met hers, then took a meandering journey over her silhouette. Even though her body was hidden under formless clothes it was as if he could see right through them.
‘What you wear is immaterial, since the aim of newlyweds is to get out of their clothes as quickly as possible.’
All she envisaged was searching hands and naked limbs entwined. Breathless sighs and a deep, unrelenting ache.
She shut out the errant thoughts and flopped into the overstuffed armchair opposite. ‘Charming.’
The corners of his mouth tilted in a lazy smile. ‘If you pretended to be more of an adoring wife, I’d show you how charming I could be.’
She ignored the invitation. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘You could try to look happy about it.’
She tossed her head, meaning to look resolute, but the move seemed somehow childish.
‘Never.’
‘Never is a long, cold time to be alone.’ He ran his thumb over the full curve of his lower lip.
Such a decadent mouth for a man...
‘I’m used to being alone,’ she said.
Christo’s eyes tightened for a heartbeat, almost in a wince, then it was gone.
‘So am I.’
She dismissed him with a bored, practised glance and tucked her feet under her, opening the book Anna had purchased for her that afternoon. The request had earned her a bemused look, but she’d assured Anna that Christo loved doing puzzles in his spare time. When Anna had cackled out loud at this revelation, she knew she’d found a friend in the house.
Thea grinned.
One down. Six letters.
The tallest mountain in Europe.
She scribbled the answer.
‘Crosswords?’ Christo chuckled, deep and low.
The sound rolled over her, making her thighs clench.
She shrugged. ‘Your suggestion.’
He tossed down the papers he’d been studying. ‘I’m flattered you listened. So you’re planning on becoming an obedient wife? Lucky me.’
‘I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you.’
‘Ah, so my luck’s running out already?’ he said, sprawling on the couch.
Thea nibbled the end of her pencil and a dark and slumberous look swept over Christo’s face. She ignored the awareness of it prickling at the base of her spine.
‘Now hope is all I have left,’ he added.
‘Whilst you’re hoping for something which won’t happen, you can help. Two across. Eight letters. “A large Patagonian rodent that lives in communal groups.”’
He stretched back, hands behind his head. His shirt shifted to expose a glorious slice of golden etched abdomen.
‘Capybara.’
She pencilled in the word, which fitted. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I’ve tasted it.’
‘What?’ she squeaked. ‘But a rodent’s a rat.’
‘More like a guinea pig. No tail.’
‘Well, having no tail obviously makes all the difference.’
‘Not my fondest culinary memory, but I was in South America on business and politeness dictated I sample it.’
Christo smiled. A wicked, glinting thing.
‘I didn’t realise I’d find crosswords so enjoyable. What’s our next clue?’
He was teasing her. It lit up his face with a mischievous sort of amusement. She tried hard not to smile herself. She shouldn’t be having fun. She shouldn’t. Reality would intrude soon enough.
Thea shut the crossword book. ‘I don’t want to risk hearing about any more of your odd culinary extravaganzas.’
‘Not my experience with sea cucumbers in China? Where’s your sense of adventure?’
‘I’ve never been encouraged to have one.’
‘Shame... I’m travelling to New York in a few weeks. I thought you might join me.’
Her heart leapt. He was going to the city her mother had promised to take her.
An awful yearning replaced the sense of fun. It clutched at her, twisting hard. She toyed with the corner of the book in her lap, staring out past filmy curtains to the floodlit balcony. The illuminated olive trees waved silvery in the night breeze.
‘I’ve never been out of Greece.’
Christo leaned forward, forearms on his thighs. His wedding ring glinted in the lights. ‘What was your father thinking?’
That if he kept her in a cage she wouldn’t fall, like her mother had before her marriage.
‘He’s protective. There was always a driver. Always a bodyguard. Something I rely on now.’
The lie caught in her throat. Her father had been her jailer. Demetri his enforcer.
‘Come to New York with me and you’ll have a driver. I’ll also organise one of my security detail to attend you. If that’s what you want.’
It was. Desperately. Because here was her way to locate Alexis. Christo had power and reach she didn’t. If anyone could find him it was her husband.
‘I’d like to bring my own bodyguard.’
‘My men are all provided by Raul. Highly trained and supremely trustworthy.’
Could she tell him the truth about Alexis? That he was the child her mother had been forced to relinquish? Her half-brother, who’d kept her going on her darkest days?
No lies. No manipulation.
No. She couldn’t trust anyone who did business with her father—especially if that business involved her.
She licked her lips. ‘I only trust Alexis Anastos—the man my father engaged.’
Christo lounged in his chair, but there was a tension about him which told her he was watchful.
‘Where is he now?’
‘I’m not sure. He was released prior to our marriage. Said he was going to take a long holiday. Something about working with me making him need one.’ She laughed. It sounded hollow.
Christo’s eyes narrowed. His body stilled with predator-like intent.
‘How close were you to him?’
The question was measured, quiet. But the implication of the words burrowed under her skin. What did he think she was? A hot roil of anger seethed inside her. Newly married and already seeking out someone else? Anyhow, they had an agreement—one she loathed, but she’d stick by it nonetheless.
‘He was like the brother I should have had!’ she snapped.
Christo cocked his head. Stupid. Her emotion would give everything away.
Thea levelled him with a steady gaze. ‘Besides, I’m not his type.’
That seemed to relax the crouching panther a little.
Christo settled back into the comfortable cushions of the couch. ‘Let me know the security firm he works for and I’ll look into it.’
She breathed out slowly. ‘Thank you.’
That voice. Soft as the caress of silk sheets. But his eyes held the promise of a brewing storm. And she wasn’t even sure he was trying. If he did, Thea knew the man would beat the devil in his ability to tempt.
‘Are you really going to insist on doing this every evening?’
‘I seem to recall you offered.’
‘It was the lesser of two evils.’
‘A similar position for both of us,’ Christo said. ‘We could try to get to know each other, since we might be together some time.’
Thea’s stomach churned like a twisting pit of vipers. This could go on for years. Yet she couldn’t pray for his father’s death to free her any faster.
Her pulse leapt, threatening to rampage out of control. Her breathing became short and shallow. These episodes had increased in their relentless frequency since her engagement. An old, bitter enemy challenging her from the shadows. But she wouldn’t let it consume her in front of Christo.
Thea flipped the pencil in her hand and pressed the sharp point into the pad of her thumb, concentrating on the pain. Her heartbeat slowed. The twist in her stomach eased. She relaxed the pencil’s pressure and rubbed the spot with her index finger, soothing the sting.
‘So, what? We play twenty questions?’
He smiled in that wolfish way of his and her toes curled into the plush carpet.
‘Would you prefer truth or dare?’ he asked.
‘I’m a bit old for that sort of game.’ She sniffed. In reality, she’d never played any sort. Though she’d always craved the freedom to make mistakes of her own.
‘What would you like to play?’ Christo asked, his tone all soft invitation.
Could he have been one of those mistakes, if she’d been allowed to make them? In other circumstances might she have fallen for the ruinous gleam in those gold-green eyes or the dark promise in his midnight voice?
No. He wasn’t her mistake to make. Now or ever.
She sighed. Rolled her eyes for added effect. ‘Ask your questions, Christo.’
Christo stood and walked to the bureau, where he poured himself a cognac. He sipped the drink as he regarded her over the rim of the glass. ‘My mechanic was impressed with your bike. Where did you develop an interest in vintage British motorcycles?’
Her heart stopped for a beat. In truth, before becoming her interest it had been Alexis’s passion. She had to step carefully. Christo didn’t really want to get to know her. He was littering their conversation with landmines to trap her.
‘And here I thought you were going to ask me my favourite colour. Which, for the record, is red.’
‘Why does that not surprise me?’ he said, smiling. ‘Mine’s green.’
‘Opposites.’
‘They can attract.’
‘I’m thinking oil and water.’
‘And I’m thinking you’re avoiding my question.’
Clever man.
She tried for her most guileless look. ‘I like the glossy black paint and glistening chrome.’
Which was what she saw the day Alexis had proudly delivered her gift—a classic of British motorcycling. Then he’d taught her to ride. Hours with the wind in her face, as if she was flying. And she’d finally understood the glory of the machine and the joy of freedom.
‘You don’t strike me as the sort of woman who’d make a decision because something looks shiny.’
The corners of Christo’s appraising eyes crinkled in amusement, softening the inherent hardness of him.
‘Sorry to disappoint.’
Christo raised his glass to her with a slow smile. She couldn’t take her eyes from his perfect lips, the sensual way they curved. A slick of warmth bloomed deep inside her, aching to be satisfied in a way she’d never allow.
‘I find you intriguing. Plenty of time for disappointment later.’
Her breathing hitched. He wasn’t supposed to find anything about her interesting. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be asking some questions too?’
‘I’m not finished with you yet.’
Christo strolled back to his seat and sprawled on the couch in apparent indolence. She knew better. He watched her like a predator stalking from the shadows.
‘I don’t think this is how the game is supposed to be played,’ she said.
‘My rules.’
‘It’s unfair. And I’d never marry a man who was.’
He placed his hand over his heart. ‘You wound me. As your husband, I can’t have you thinking that. Ask your question.’
‘Why did your father force you to marry?’
There was that tightness round his eyes again. Christo tossed back his drink. She watched the fascinating bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
‘Because I intended to enjoy a bachelor’s life for ever. No marriage. No children.’
Children?
Thea tried to relax, resting her hands carefully in her lap. If only she could stop them trembling.
‘Is there something you haven’t told me? Your father didn’t demand a child in the terms of his will?’
A dark, brooding shadow passed across his face. He wasn’t looking at her, concentrating instead on the shimmering tumbler in his hand. It was her first sense that he had secrets himself.
The silence stretched. And then, ‘No. Hector’s uncouth, but that would be vulgar even for him. And I would have told you about the requirement if he had. Though who knows what he’d demand if he suspected this marriage is a sham?’
‘When are we going to meet your father, to prove it’s everything he hoped for?’
His eyes snapped to hers. That focus was relentless. She didn’t look away. She’d never been cowed by a man before, no matter how many times her father had tried. She wasn’t starting tonight.
Christo leaned forward with cautious deliberation, placing his glass on the table in front of him. ‘You’ll meet him when you’ve learned to play the role of wife to my satisfaction.’
‘I’m doing an excellent job as your wife.’
‘This morning?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘That fiction about my snoring like a hibernating bear?’
‘Don’t be dramatic.’
‘You called me a beast.’ A tiny muscle at his temple gave a satisfying twitch. ‘Then at dinner you told Anna I had an obsession with ear and nose hair growth.’
‘I was trying to be friendly. Women always complain about their husbands.’
It was another thing she and Anna laughed about. It had been such a long time since she’d laughed about anything.
‘Anyhow, I read somewhere it’s something men think about. Often.’
‘Perhaps you need a lesson in what men think about.’
The low growl of warning made her shiver in anticipation. She glanced at the huge bed. The soft pillows. Crisp white sheets.
Thea turned back to him. ‘There’s nothing I want to learn from you.’
‘Are you sure?’ he asked softly. ‘If you change your mind, all you have to do is ask. Nicely.’
‘Your vain hope’s begun to delude you. My presence is obviously a bad influence.’
That tight band in her chest gripped her again. Pressing harder. She needed to get out of here. To breathe something more than the scent of him, which curled through her with every inhalation and lit fires inside.
‘May I go now?’
He shrugged. ‘If you want.’
She stood. He watched, as if he’d assessed her and found her wanting. Like her father. But she could do this. If he found Alexis, everything would be worth it. She grabbed her book and made for the door.
‘Thea.’
The cold command in his voice stopped her.
‘No woman I’m sleeping with leaves my room looking like you do.’
A super
ior smile played on his lips. She wanted to wipe it from his face.
‘And how’s that?’
‘So completely untouched.’
Was this simply a terrible game to entertain a bored rich man? Her blood pumped hard and hot. She tossed her book and pen on a table. Tipped her head upside down and scratched her fingers through her hair till it was a tangled mess. Wiped her palm roughly across her lips so the gloss smeared.
‘There. Better?’ she sneered, hands on hips. ‘Or should I tear my clothes as well?’
His lips narrowed a fraction in displeasure. Excellent. Some hint that she’d affected him.
Thea whipped round to leave. She didn’t hear the silent footsteps marking his approach. Only sensed his heat as he moved close. She turned, her back against the cool wood of the door, tipping her head up to look at him. She was trapped by his devilish lips, the slash of high cheekbones. And his eyes... Sparkling and shimmering, like water in sunlight. Angry. Arresting.
She couldn’t move. His perfect fingers teased along her jaw, slipping down her throat and behind her head. An exquisite burn was left by his touch. She knew he could snap her. Break her like a twig. But the languid softness in his eyes said nothing of anger or hurting.
Another hand settled on her waist. Hot. Possessive. The atmosphere took on a life of its own. Trembling with the spark between them. His thumb traced the line of her lower lip. A whisper of a caress. Setting her body alight. The world blurred and her lips parted as if there would never be enough air to breathe.
He drew her close and she pressed into him. Hands on his chest. Liquid heat between her thighs. She should push him away, but those muscles under her palms... Sculpted. Like stone. Every morsel of him was too male, too much.
His mouth dropped to hers and her mind blanked. She breathed the scent of him, cool and crisp like the mountains, full of wild thyme and rosemary and pine. His lips coaxed. Encouraged. Probed. Too gentle for this man. She fought not to succumb, but his hold on her and his wicked mouth dragged her under. She’d give everything for the feel of his tongue as it explored and danced with hers.
His hand was in her hair, the hardness contrasting with his gentle lips. And the seduction of it drizzled over her like honey. Drowning her in its sticky sweetness. The dark, luscious kiss deepened and took her into the abyss. Her control shredded, ripped away as her body thrummed with primal need.
