His Shock Marriage in Greece

by Jane Porter

  “Are you truly so unlikable? Do you not expect anyone to enjoy your company?”

  There was something in his tone that made her lips twist. He sounded almost affronted on her behalf.

  “Would it surprise you to learn that I enjoy your company, kitten?” he added. “Or is that not allowed?”

  The corners of her mouth curved, and she felt that whisper of hope return, even stronger than before. “It is allowed. I get fuzzy on the rules, but that is most definitely allowed.”

  * * *

  The sun was still relatively high in the sky as Damen’s yacht neared Adras. The weather remained almost unbearably perfect, and the colors of the Aegean were so clear and true it almost made Kassiani’s heart hurt. The blue overhead teased the blue of the sea, and in the distance, she could see the dark green of the groves dotting the island. For a moment Kass was reminded of California’s Napa Valley, and how the grapes rolled up and over the hills, but then the sun reflected brightly, blindly, off the water, and she was firmly back in Greece, with this intense brooding husband of hers who overwhelmed her in every possible way.

  Feeling a prickle of awareness, she turned her head and discovered that Damen was watching her, and just like that, heat enveloped her, and an awareness of how he made her feel, and all the ways he pleasured her, and how easily he dissolved her defenses. Even without touching her, she felt breathless and weak. Or maybe that’s because she remembered how he held her down on the couch and claimed her last night, taking her with slow, deep thrusts before withdrawing and slowly entering her again. It had been maddening and exciting and she’d begged for him to thrust faster, but he’d held off until she was panting and writhing and trembling and only then did he finally let her come. The orgasm had been intense, and he’d held her after, and in that dreamy place between pleasure and reality, she’d felt so close to him, so much a part of him, as if they were two halves of a whole, and whole only when together.

  She knew it was an arranged marriage, but the lovemaking and sexual intimacy only served to make her feel more...more of everything, both good and bad.

  “We’re here,” he said, breaking her reverie.

  She blinked and focused on the island, and yes, they were close. The yacht was slowing down, too, carefully approaching a narrow dock that extended out into the water.

  “It must be quite deep here,” she said.

  “It’s not a good swimming beach, no,” he answered. “But there is a fantastic view from the house.” He gestured above, pointing to a mass of white buildings set among the green covering the slope. “My villa and pools are just there.”

  It took a little bit of time for the crew to moor the yacht, and while the crew was tying the ropes and dropping anchor, two open-air Jeeps came tearing down the mountain.

  Damen offered his arm to Kassiani as they disembarked, and then thanked the staff before walking her to one of the lifted Jeeps with the large off-road tires. There was no step stool, or low sideboard to step on, and before she could even ask for help, Damen wrapped his hands around her waist, and lifted her into the vehicle.

  Just the feel of him against her back, and his breath against her nape, made her breath catch and her skin sensitive.

  “Could your mother please join us for dinner tonight?” Kassiani asked as he slid behind the steering wheel.

  “No.”

  “Or at least, could she join us for drinks?”

  “No. You’ll meet her before we leave, but there is no need to introduce you right away.”

  “But there is! She’s your mother, Damen. I’d like to have a good relationship with her, if possible, and it’s disrespectful of me not to reach out to her early—”

  “She’s not going to be a big part of your life, Kassiani, and I’m becoming annoyed that you keep pressing the issue.”

  Kass balled her hands into fists. “So it doesn’t matter what I want?” she said huskily. “It only matters what you want.”

  “Discussion closed.”

  She stared at him, hurt, and frustrated, and more than a little furious. What she felt didn’t matter to him. She was not a real person, or a valuable person. In his mind she was just another thing he owned...another person to command. “I’m not your employee,” she answered lowly, fiercely. “You cannot issue commands. Correction, you can, of course you can, but I don’t have to listen, or respond to them. In fact, you’ll discover I respond so much better when you treat me like an equal.”

  “I am not going to do this here,” he ground out. “Not in front of my staff.”

  She averted her head, angry, and furious and hurt, so hurt, so impossibly hurt, and she didn’t understand how in just a week he could make her feel so much when this was just an arranged marriage, and it was only a business deal.

  Except that maybe she’d forgotten it was business.

  Maybe the nights of intense lovemaking had done something to her head, and heart, because he was not a “business deal” to her. He was her husband. He was the man she wanted and needed. The man she craved. The man she...loved.

  Her eyes burned and her throat ached. She’d been trying to fight the feelings, but they were just growing stronger.

  “Buckle, please,” he said as he started the engine.

  She did as she was told, but her heart was somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Was it possibly true? Had she inadvertently fallen in love with her husband?

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE VILLA WAS EXQUISITE, and massive, sprawling in every direction, towers and squares, and courtyards with individual pools and fountains. It was also all new construction, elegant and contemporary without being cold. The white rooms had high ceilings and huge windows and every room seemed to have a sweeping view of the sea. The only color in the rooms were the touches of blue from the mosaic tiles in a pool, to the glazed pottery on an end table, or the woven textile pillows on chairs or the low linen sofas, while outside color came from the profusion of purple and pink bougainvillea blossoms.

  Damen gave her an excruciatingly brief tour of the house before leaving her at a suite of rooms that he said were hers. “We’re not sharing?” she asked as he headed out the door.

  He paused in the doorway and glanced back at her. “I know where to find you every night.”

  She kept her tone light. “And where am I to find you? The villa is considerably larger than the yacht.”

  “Staff always know where to find me.”

  “I suppose that’s preferable to your wife knowing.”

  “You’re picking a fight.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, and then stopped herself. “You’re right. I’m just...anxious.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to make you happy—”

  “Stop trying so hard. Just let things be.”

  “And I want to feel like we’re family.”

  “That won’t happen overnight. It will take time. When we have the children it will be more natural.”

  She knotted her hands at her sides, emotions running high. “What if it takes us years to have children? What if we can’t—”

  “We haven’t even been married for a week yet. Why think the worst? It’s just going to make you unhappy.”

  “You’re right. I agree.” She drew a breath to slow her racing heart. “It’s just that I want us to feel married. I want us to be a real family.”

  “We’re married. We are a family—even if it doesn’t yet feel like it.” His brow creased. “This is the danger of relying on feelings. They cloud facts.”

  “But I feel like you use facts to keep me at arm’s length.”

  “Kitten, you’re in my arms all night long.”

  Her eyes felt hot and gritty and her throat ached with all the emotion she was trying to hold in. “It might surprise you to learn that I hate conflict. I do. I don’t argue with you to push you away. I’
m not fighting with you to win some imaginary war, I’m fighting to get closer to you—”

  “You’re closer to me than anyone has been in years. Take that in. Let things be. Don’t push so hard. It’s not going to help us.”

  “I want to be your friend.”

  “Then listen to me. Listen to what I’m saying. I am comfortable with who I am. Pushing me for more will only result in animosity and increased distance, because this is what I am, and this is all I am, and you will not get more from me. Not now, not ever.”

  * * *

  They didn’t have dinner together that night, and he didn’t come to her room. Kassiani was glad. Or so she told herself as she sat in a chair on her balcony, a soft throw from the foot of the bed wrapped around her for warmth. It wasn’t a cold night but she felt chilled all the way through.

  It was always this way with them. One step forward, a thousand steps back. She shouldn’t be surprised. She should be reassured he was so predictable.

  Except she wasn’t.

  The predictability hurt, just as his words earlier had hurt, badly. “You will not get more from me. Not now, not ever.”

  Kassiani pressed her chin to her knees, and hugged her legs tighter, determined to keep it together. She had to learn to keep herself strong. She wouldn’t allow herself to be wrecked. She would try her best to be a good wife, but love shouldn’t damage, and love shouldn’t hurt this much.

  What had changed him? What had made him despise love?

  Something had happened to him. She needed to know so that she could understand and help him. And if he wouldn’t talk to her, she’d find someone who would.

  * * *

  Damen couldn’t find Kassiani the next day, and none of his staff could locate her, either. They all could remember seeing her that morning, or at lunch, and each one suggested a place to find her, mentioning the spot they’d seen her last—the dining room where she had breakfast, the sunroom where she’d been reading, the garden with the fountain, the patio where she’d had lunch. Multiple sightings, with the last about two hours ago, so she was around. So where was she now?

  He was searching the lower pool and the terraced garden when he crossed paths with one of his gardeners. He asked the gardener what he’d been asking everyone. “Have you seen my wife?”

  The old gardener nodded. “She’d borrowed a bike and she asked me how to get to town.”

  Damen suppressed a sigh of frustration. But of course she’d go to town, and of course she hadn’t waited for him, or his permission.

  He also had a sneaking suspicion he knew whom she’d gone to see in town. Because why would she listen? Why should she do anything he wanted?

  Damen headed quickly to the garage and climbed into the nearest Jeep, before driving toward town, chest tight, temper humming.

  He didn’t want to be this angry, but if Kassiani tracked down his mom without his permission, she was in serious trouble.

  * * *

  It turned out to be a longer bike ride than Kassiani had anticipated, but once she reached the village, it wasn’t very difficult finding Mrs. Alexopoulos.

  Kass did have to stop and ask for people to repeat the directions more than once, but everyone she talked to seemed happy to point her in the right direction. People also seemed to know who she was, and greeted her politely, respectfully.

  She rode down the narrow lane toward the simple two-story house with butterflies in her middle. Kassiani was nervous but determined. She needed to be a good daughter-in-law. She needed to be respectful and start things on the right foot with her new mother-in-law.

  Mrs. Alexopoulos emerged from within, just as Kassiani showed up on her doorstep.

  “Mrs. Alexopoulos?” Kassiani asked.

  The woman inclined her head. She was surprisingly small, with a slim, wiry build. Her gray hair was twisted and pinned up and she wore an apron over her blouse and skirt. Damen must have inherited his height from his father but the light gray eyes seemed to have come from his mother, along with the high pronounced cheekbones.

  “I’m Kassiani,” she introduced herself in Greek, handing Mrs. Alexopoulos the bundle of flowers she’d gathered from one of the villa gardens. “Damen’s wife. I wanted to come meet you right away.”

  Mrs. Alexopoulos took the flowers without much enthusiasm and carried them into the house, where she placed the bouquet in a jug she took from a sideboard. Kassiani had followed her into the house, hoping she was meant to follow, as so far Mrs. Alexopoulos hadn’t spoken.

  The house was just as simple on the inside as the outside. It was the house of a laborer with just one room downstairs with a small galley kitchen on one side, chairs near the hearth on the other, with the round farm-style table in the middle. A ladder in the corner provided access to the second floor.

  “Damen didn’t come with you?” his mother asked, finally speaking.

  Kassiani felt fresh butterflies. “He was working this morning and I had nothing to do and wanted to meet you.”

  The older woman gave her a long, unsmiling look that did nothing to put Kassiani at ease. Maybe she had made a mistake coming here uninvited.

  “How is my son?” Mrs. Alexopoulos asked.

  “Well. He works a lot.”

  “Hmph.” The woman studied Kassiani. “You are the other sister, yes?”

  “I’m not Elexis, no.” Kassiani suddenly felt like throwing up. This was most definitely a bad idea but it was too late to run away now. She’d wanted to come, and now that she was here she had to make this work. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the wedding. It was quite nice—”

  “Was it? I heard you didn’t go to the dinner.”

  “I got nervous. I’m not comfortable with crowds.”

  “I don’t like crowds, either. Or people who pretend they are something they’re not.”

  Kassiani didn’t know what to say to that, uncertain if Damen’s mother was implying that Kassiani was pretending to be someone she wasn’t.

  “How is he as a husband?” Mrs. Alexopoulos asked abruptly.

  Kassiani’s mouth opened and then closed. Again she didn’t know how to answer. “He will be a good provider,” she said at length.

  “He wasn’t cold as a boy. He was a good boy, with a good heart. Very loving.”

  Kassiani didn’t want to betray Damen, and yet she desperately wanted to understand him so she could help him, as well as help herself. “He doesn’t like feelings now,” she said carefully. “He doesn’t want love, but everyone needs love.”

  His mother’s head tipped, her expression thoughtful. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

  “No.”

  “Hmm. So you disrespect him?”

  “No. I want to make him happy. I care very much for him.” She struggled to find the words. “I had hoped maybe you could tell me how to...talk...to him. He is very...reserved.”

  “He doesn’t talk.”

  “Did he ever?”

  “As a boy, yes. He was—” she broke off, eyes darkening “—perfect.”

  Perfect.

  Kassiani’s heart seemed to fill her throat. She couldn’t speak for a moment and she couldn’t swallow. She looked away, blinking, fighting tears. She was tired and overwhelmed and it struck her quite forcibly that this visit wasn’t a good idea. It would be what Damen called “pushing.” It was the very thing he told her he didn’t want her to do.

  “I love him,” she said softly, shoulders rising and falling as she glanced back at Mrs. Alexopoulos. “He doesn’t want me to, of course, but it happened anyway. Life’s funny that way, isn’t it?”

  The older woman studied her for a moment. “Ask him about Aida. Maybe he will tell you.”

  * * *

  Kassiani was riding her bike back to the villa, silently repeating the name Aida to herself, when she spotted a dark green Jeep head
ing toward her.

  It was the same kind of Jeep that she’d traveled in from the yacht to the villa and she had a sinking suspicion that it was Damen heading toward her now.

  The weight in her gut turned to lead when the vehicle slowed and pulled alongside her. “Hello,” she said to her husband as he shifted into Park.

  “Nice ride?” he asked, his bronze arm resting on the steering wheel.

  He was so unbelievably beautiful, and his mother’s words came to her. He was perfect.

  Kass’s chest squeezed. He still was, at least physically. “It’s a lovely day,” she answered.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Into town. Heading back to the villa now.”

  “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  “It’s—” She broke off as he climbed out of the Jeep. She swallowed the rest of her protest and stepped away so he could place the bike in the backseat of the Jeep. “Great.”

  They drove in silence for several minutes and then Damen pulled off the road onto the shoulder next to a grove of olive trees thick with gnarled branches.

  “I don’t feel like playing games,” he said tightly. “So let’s not, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Who did you see in town?”

  “I don’t know all their names—”

  “Kassiani.”

  “And your mother.”

  He closed his eyes, rubbed at his temple. “Why?”

  “Because she’s my mother-in-law and it’s respectful to take her flowers and pay her a call.”

  He held her gaze, as if daring her to say more but Kassiani’s courage failed her. She did want to ask about Aida but now wasn’t the time. Now was most definitely not the time.

  * * *

  Back at the villa, Damen handed the blue bike to one of the gardeners and then walked away from Kassiani as if he couldn’t bear looking at her another moment.