by Andie Brock
‘You sure about that?’ Nikos taunted. ‘Someone needs to do something. As a major investor, I would hate to see my money go straight down the pan. The first payment has already gone into your account, by the way.’ He tapped the phone in his pocket. ‘And the shares I own will be transferred back to you.’
‘Oh, thanks...’ Kate mumbled her graceless gratitude.
‘But it’s going to take more than just money to make Kandy Kate a success again. We need to radically alter the public’s perception of the business. Replace its tawdry image with something far more cheerful...wholesome. And what better start than a sunny photo of you on the steps of City Hall, having just married the man of your dreams?’
Kate shot him a furious glance. He was loving this. And what was all this we?
‘The man of my dreams?’ She knew she shouldn’t retaliate, that he was deliberately goading her, but she had to do something to try and wipe that smug look off his finely honed face. ‘I don’t think so, Nikos.’
‘No?’ Nikos gave her a sceptical glance. ‘I’ve already admitted that you’ve crept into my dreams in the small hours of the night. Are you telling me it hasn’t been the same for you?’
‘I’m admitting nothing.’
With heat scoring her cheeks, Kate turned away, realising that by not denying it she had as good as owned up to the truth. Of course he had filled her dreams, dominated her thoughts—both day and night, for that matter—for the last three whole years. And, judging by his supercilious expression, he knew that only too well.
She stared out of the window at the New York traffic, at people going about their everyday lives, rushing around, all so busy, completely oblivious to her miserable plight. To the fact that she had just sold her soul to the devil.
‘Anyway.’ Nikos pulled the conversation back into line. ‘Those shots will generate a buzz about the wedding in the press, and that’s good publicity for us both. This is the way it’s going to be from now on, Kate, so you had better get used to it.’
He had this all worked out, didn’t he? Kate could feel his eyes on her profile, his gaze prickling the outline of her ear, the skin on her neck. With a trembling lip she felt the irony of her situation hit home. Once again she’d found herself being manipulated in the name of Kandy Kate. Only this time it wasn’t her mother controlling her. This time it was Nikos Nikoladis. And that was a far more terrifying prospect.
‘Where are we going, anyway?’
Turning back to face him, Kate swallowed down her sorrow. There was no point regretting anything now. It was done. Besides, it was a genuine question. For the first time it occurred to her that she had no idea where this purring limo was taking them.
‘What do newlyweds usually do after they get married?’ Nikos gave her a roguish smile.
Kate’s heart rate spiked dramatically, panic strangling her vocal cords. ‘Wh...what do you mean?’
‘Relax, pethi mou.’ With a low laugh, Nikos took her hand from where it had flown to the base of her throat. Holding it in his own, he turned the circle of gold on her finger. ‘Not that. Unless you’re offering, of course. In which case it would be rude to turn you down.’
‘I am not offering anything.’
‘Hmm...pity. Well, in that case I suggest you sit back and enjoy the ride. Because you and I, Mrs Kate O’Connor-Nikoladis, are about to go on honeymoon.’
CHAPTER FIVE
PARIS. KATE GAZED wistfully at the city spread out before her. The city of love. The ultimate destination for a romantic honeymoon.
She had always longed to visit Paris. That fateful summer when she had set off on her European tour it had been one of her must-see destinations. But she had never made it. Circumstances had overtaken her—Nikos had happened.
Back then, if someone had told her she would be here now, married to Nikos, honeymooning in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, she would have thought it was the fairy tale ending. The start of her happy-ever-after.
Now it felt like a mockery—a travesty. As if they were disrespecting the institution of marriage and insulting the city with their bogus relationship. Despoiling the streets for the real lovers who walked innocently hand in hand, soaking up the atmosphere.
They had been here for four days, every minute of which had been choreographed by Nikos with military precision. The Eiffel Tower—tick. Notre Dame—tick. The Louvre, the Arc de Triomphe—tick, tick. Their days had been a whirlwind of sightseeing, a blur of art and architecture and history, all captured by the paparazzi in carefully orchestrated photo opportunities.
Just to add to the mockery, the boutique hotel they were staying in was called L’Hôtel d’Amour. Considering the whole time they’d been here she and Nikos had scarcely spent five minutes alone together, they should have been thrown out as imposters. After days of seeing the sights, their evenings were spent dining with business acquaintances of Nikos. And as for the nights... Those were very firmly spent apart.
Their artfully designed rooms on the top floor might be side by side, but they might as well be a million miles apart. And when they stood outside their respective doors at the end of the evening they didn’t exchange so much as a peck on the cheek.
It upset Kate far more than it should have. Nikos’s demeanour was polite but cool, his attitude perfectly civil but businesslike. So why did it feel like salt poured into an open wound? His flirtatious goading back in New York had wound her up tighter than a sprung coil, made the blood thunder through her veins, made her want to slap his arrogant face—hard. But it had also made her feel alive.
Somehow this stiff, sterile politeness was far worse. His total lack of interest in her was sapping her confidence, curling her heart into a prickly ball.
Turning away from the window, she reluctantly started to get ready for another dinner date. Tonight, apparently, they were going to the famous Moulin Rouge to watch a cabaret show. It should be fun—the perfect antidote to all the culture she had been force-fed these past few days. But the thought of spending another evening with a group of overweight businessmen, with the cold, looming spectre of Nikos across the other side of the table, watching her every move, filled her with dread.
Nikos had insisted that these endless meals in fancy restaurants were for her own benefit—or at least for the benefit of Kandy Kate. That these men—and they were all men—were highly influential, some of them with contacts in the confectionery trade. If Kandy Kate was to stand any chance of breaking into the European market these were the kind of people who could make it happen.
Kate hadn’t bothered to argue. Up until then she had never even considered the European market. Kandy Kate had always been an all-American brand. But maybe Nikos was right—maybe she should be looking further afield. It wouldn’t hurt to explore the idea. Now she had Nikos’s investment behind her she could start to think big. And besides, sharing a table with noisy French businessmen had to be better than the forced intimacy of a table for two with Nikos.
Though how those guys ever actually got any business done, in between their long lunches and even longer dinners, and the copious amounts of red wine they consumed, followed by the cigars and the brandy, was a mystery to Kate. Most of them were around the same age as her father—her hardworking, virtually teetotal father—who had always watched his diet, kept fit. It didn’t seem fair that they were still here when he was dead.
But then life wasn’t fair. Kate was learning that pretty fast.
With a heavy sigh, she flipped through the dresses she had brought with her, deciding which one to wear. Most of them had been bought years ago. when she’d been able to afford such luxuries, but they still served the purpose. She selected a dark red cocktail dress. One of her favourites, it was worn off the shoulder, with a fitted waist and a knee-length full skirt that twirled out when she spun around.
Not that Kate was planning on doing any twirling this evening. She woul
d leave that strictly to the dancers. There was no frivolity to be had for her. She knew the form by now. Tonight was going to be another torturous evening, playing the part of Nikos’s new wife with a frozen smile and an aching heart, with any attempts on her part to talk business dismissed by the other diners, who would joke that she shouldn’t be concerning herself with work at a time like this.
It made a mockery of Nikos’s insistence that these were useful contacts, but frankly she was past caring.
Four days into this marriage, Kate was far more worried about how she was going to manage four weeks...four months...possibly even longer...being shackled to this formidable man. According to Nikos, the custody proceedings for Sofia were already well underway and it was now a question of doing everything they could to support the application while waiting for the courts to make their decision.
Though how long that would take was anybody’s guess. Kate couldn’t bring herself to look any further than one day at a time. She wasn’t sure her paper-thin defences or her poor fragile heart could take it.
* * *
Nikos leant back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, having no desire to join in with the clapping, cheering audience. On the stage a group of young women were frenetically dancing, lifting their frilly red, white and blue skirts, kicking their legs unfeasibly high, baring their bottoms and doing the splits, much to the delight of the whooping crowd.
They were doing a job, he supposed, the same as the rest of them, but their efforts left him cold. As the music started to speed up even more, the noise becoming ever louder, he started to wonder how much more of this interminable show he could take.
He glanced across at Kate. She looked stunning this evening. But then she always did. When she had opened the door of her hotel room to him earlier that evening, her shoulders bare, her body held unnaturally straight, he had had to stop himself from crossing the threshold, taking her in his arms and kissing away all that pent-up tension with the soft, damp heat of his mouth. Then walking her backwards towards the bed, lifting up the full skirt and ravishing her there and then.
It had been an infinitely more attractive prospect than spending an evening watching this rowdy cabaret. It still was.
Being around Kate these past few days had been hard—far harder than he’d anticipated. He’d forgotten Kate’s kind nature—or at least refused to remember it. How she had a way of connecting with people wherever she went. Like when she had chatted to the doorman at their hotel this evening, solicitously asking after his baby son. How did she even know he had one? And she had rushed to the aid of an elderly lady the other day, who hadn’t been crossing the road quickly enough for impatient drivers. With her hands on her hips Kate had glared at the traffic, before helping the pensioner to the safety of the pavement, telling her to take all the time she needed. Miraculously, the tooting horns had stopped.
Nikos had been so sure he was over Kate O’Connor, so sure that she no longer meant anything to him, he’d thought he could have it tattooed across his forehead. But now doubts were creeping in. Doubts that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Doubts that were driving him crazy. Despite keeping his distance, trying never to be alone with her, he was still falling under her spell.
After their hideous break-up, the shameful way Kate had treated him, he had returned to Greece, determined to put their short, disastrous relationship behind him. Pumped up with anger at Kate, for the whole degrading debacle, but most of all at himself for being such a damned fool, he had thrown himself into doing something he’d known he could make a success of—his business with Philippos.
To start with financial gain hadn’t been the driving force behind their venture. It had been a welcome by-product, sure, but more important to Nikos had been utilising his business brain, taking Philippos’s brilliant idea and turning it into a workable product. That was where the real satisfaction had lain for him.
But his ill-fated trip to New York had changed all that. Fiona O’Connor had immediately mercilessly exposed his naiveté about money, throwing his gullibility back in his face. She had made her pitifully low opinion of him abundantly clear and Kate had done absolutely nothing to back him up.
Because money did matter—Nikos knew that now. Money equalled power. And power meant that you had one hundred percent control over your own life. That no one could look down on you. No one could tell you that you weren’t good enough. He might have come from a lowly background, and his own mother might not have wanted him, but money had meant he could rise above all that, invent a new persona. Money made you strong.
So Nikos had returned to Crete and set about making the fledgling business take off with a zeal that had bordered on the manic, pushing himself harder and harder, neglecting everything and everyone else in order to achieve his goal.
He had pushed Philippos too—something he now bitterly regretted. He had been part genius, part oddball, and Nikos should never have driven his friend so hard—never have bullied him into working faster, staying focussed. The sudden drive to make them both billionaires had been solely Nikos’s obsession, and of no interest to the quiet and introspective Philippos.
But the business had taken off and the money had rolled in. And finally the power that Nikos had been seeking had been his. He had made it. And no one was ever going to make him feel unworthy again.
Least of all Kate O’Connor.
The problem was, she was making him feel a lot of other things... Nikos rubbed an impatient hand around the back of his neck. Faced with her again, he found he was battling all the same impulses, all the same desires. Bringing Kate back into his life had opened up all sorts of old wounds—wounds he’d convinced himself had long since healed. And he only had himself to blame. He’d been the one to set this whole thing up. If he’d done it as some sort of unconscious test then he was failing miserably. And that was something he needed to put right before they went any further.
One thing was for sure: he wouldn’t be baring his heart and soul again. He’d made that mistake once—never again. Ignoring his own set-in-concrete rules, he had offered Kate his love, his lifelong commitment. And what had she done in return? Ripped them to shreds and tossed them back in his face like worthless garbage. Kate had taught him a hard lesson—one he would never forget.
Now, as he covertly studied her from beneath half-closed eyes, Nikos could see the effort it was taking for her to politely clap along to the rowdy music, the forced half-smile on her face. She was hating this every bit as much as him. Well, good. It served her right.
Once he would have died for Kate O’Connor. Without a second’s hesitation and without a heartbeat of doubt. Once she had meant everything to him. Now he had to guard against her power over him. He had to remember the reason they were here. Kate had been hired to serve a purpose, as a means to an end. That was all.
But the attraction was as strong as ever—Nikos couldn’t deny that. Overwhelming, in fact. He could feel it like a pulse in his blood, raw and elemental, a carnal thrust that he couldn’t contain. The thought of taking her to his bed was consuming him more and more, growing like a spreading stain.
But if it were to happen—and Nikos made himself emphasise the word if—then it would be strictly on his terms. That was a certainty.
Taking a sip of champagne, he set the glass down and pushed it away. Maybe instead of fighting the attraction he should be looking at it the other way. He now had Kate exactly where he wanted her. Whether it was by chance or through his own subliminal plotting, what did it matter?
No, not exactly where he wanted her. Nikos stole another glance. Where he wanted her wasn’t here, in this crowded room full of inebriated businessmen being entertained by ludicrously dressed dancers. He wanted to be alone somewhere. Just him and her and enough time to make that really count.
The stirrings of desire made him shift his position, adjust the fit of his trousers, before he let his eyes roam in her
direction again. She sat very upright, her proud profile staring ahead, her hands clasped in her lap, until the last strains of the can-can finally died away and she raised them to clap politely again, her soft applause drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.
She couldn’t wait for this to end—that much was obvious. As he watched she bent to pick up her purse and as she straightened up their eyes met. Those beautiful green eyes... For a moment he caught vulnerability there—a sort of lost helplessness that threatened to slash through his tough resolve. But a second later it was gone, replaced by the now familiar look of haughty disdain. A look that said she was tolerating him only because she had to, and even then, for the very least amount of time possible.
Well, they would see about that. This was starting to feel like a challenge—and Nikos had never been able to resist one of those.
Stepping out into the cool night air was a welcome relief after the claustrophobic atmosphere of the club. With the windmill still turning behind them, Nikos put their guests into a taxi, then took Kate’s arm, tucking it against his side. He felt her stiffen but she didn’t pull away.
He wasn’t going to take her back to their hotel—not yet. He didn’t want the evening to end with him knocking back another tumbler of whisky to try and numb his traitorous thoughts. The temptation of knowing that Kate was just the other side of that designer grey wall was enough to rob him of sleep if he didn’t fight to control it. And enough to fill his dreams when he thought he had.
‘Shall we take a walk?’ He started to move them along the pavement, sidestepping the noisy crowd that were still spilling out of the club.
‘If you like.’
It wasn’t the most enthusiastic response to an invitation to accompany him on an evening stroll in the most romantic city in the world, but Nikos would take it. At least she wasn’t arguing, and the crush on the pavement meant she had no alternative but to stay close by his side. He had no intention of letting her slip away now.
