Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife

by Sabrina Philips

  ‘I took the stairs,’ she answered, looking up at the clock on the wall and noting that she’d only been five minutes. She was about to shoot out You know I don’t do lifts, but then she remembered that he didn’t know, that he’d really known so little about her, and she about him.

  And they knew even less about each other now, which was why not doing this was ludicrous. ‘I apologise if this isn’t a good time.’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘On the contrary, now is the perfect time—but that wasn’t what I meant. I’ve been expecting you for years, Liberty.’

  Libby wanted to correct him, to tell him she never let anyone call her that any more, but the revelation that he’d been expecting her, that he obviously agreed this was the right thing to be doing, was so welcome that she let it pass.

  ‘You mean you have been trying to contact me? I’m sorry. I did wonder if you had, but I’ve been overseas almost permanently. Bank statements from three years ago are only just starting to catch up with me.’

  ‘If I had wanted to find you I would not have failed.’

  But he hadn’t wanted to find her. What would have been the sense, when he’d always known she would come crawling back once he’d made it, that he would have his chance to turn the tables—make the humiliation hers instead of his? Yes, it had been far too long coming, but he wouldn’t have denied himself this moment for anything—would have waited fifty years if that was what it had taken.

  Libby frowned.

  ‘I rather expected you to come back the first time my name appeared on the International Rich List. Or have you been waiting for me to reach the top ten?’

  Her relief evaporated. He thought her coming here had to do with money? She stared back at him in disbelief, and in that instant she realised her initial appraisal had been wrong. He had changed. Grown harder, more cynical. Perhaps she ought to be relieved that he was the stranger to her she’d imagined after all. Instead she just felt sad. ‘I don’t read things like that. I never did.’

  He gestured around his enormous office, to the rooftop garden adjacent and the incredible view of the Acropolis, and raised his eyebrow cynically. ‘You mean you weren’t aware that my circumstances have changed?’

  ‘Of course. But that has nothing to do with why I’m here.’

  Rion gave a disparaging laugh. So in many ways she was the same old Liberty Ashworth. Still intent on denying that money mattered to her. That explained her nomadic-looking clothes, at least. They were obviously just part of her plan to convince him she didn’t care about material things any more.

  ‘So, if not because of my change of circumstances, why have you returned?’ he drawled, deciding to humour her.

  Libby took a deep breath, aware that the moment had come. ‘I’m here because it’s been five years, and we should have sorted this out a long time ago,’ she said softly, opening her bag and sliding a sheaf of papers across the table.

  Rion didn’t register what she was saying at first. He was too busy watching her face, the flush of colour that had risen in her cheeks at the sight of him, guessing how long she was going to keep up the act. But when he realised she was waiting for him to respond he dropped his eyes to the table—and that was when he saw it.

  Libby felt a plunging sense of guilt as she watched his eyes widen in horror, guilt, and disbelief in equal measure. Surely he couldn’t really be that surprised?

  Petition for Divorce.

  Rion stared down at the words, reeling inwardly in both shock and fury. But the shock was only momentary. It was obvious, really. Despite all he’d achieved, the millions he’d earned, he still lacked the right pedigree for the daughter of Lord and Lady Ashworth, didn’t he?

  ‘Of course,’ he said bitterly.

  Libby swallowed down the lump in her throat. ‘Then you agree that getting this paperwork sorted is long overdue?’

  He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, anger and agony warring in his chest. When he’d imagined the moment of her return it had never been like this.

  But the second he realised that anger was starting to win out he forced his eyes open. He would not allow himself to feel that pain—not a second time. So she wanted a divorce? So what? He wanted one too. The only reason he hadn’t had it finalised already was because he’d been waiting for the chance to savour his revenge. And who was to say this wasn’t that chance anyway? Fate, he’d come to understand, worked in mysterious ways.

  He looked up at her face. The flush of colour in her cheeks was bordering on crimson. She might not want to return as his wife, but it was obvious she did want his body as much as she always had, as much as he still wanted hers—whether he liked it or not. Maybe reminding her that she would never stop desiring him, however low her opinion of him remained, would be even more satisfying. Not to mention useful.

  A slow smile spread across his lips. He didn’t need her good opinion. He needed his wife by his side for the duration of his campaign, and he wanted her back in his bed one final time. Then he could discard her, exactly as she had discarded him—with a bit of luck at the exact moment he’d proved to her that her physical desire for him went deeper than any class divide.

  ‘No, gineka mou,’ he said deliberately, curling his tongue deliberately around the Greek for my wife. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t agree.’

  The hint of menace in his voice started a pulse of trepidation behind her ribcage, but she refused to accept that its presence was justified. He was just worried about getting stung financially. ‘Please, have it checked out by your lawyers, if you wish. They’ll confirm I’m not asking you for anything.’

  ‘Nor would you get anything if you were,’ he replied, his tone so cold that it felt as if someone had dropped an ice cube down her back, demolishing every last hope of being able to discuss this amicably as it fell.

  ‘So enlighten me,’ he continued, wondering if she actually possessed the gall to come out and say it. ‘If not for money, why do you want to get divorced from me so badly?’

  ‘Because it’s ridiculous not to,’ she justified. ‘Legally we’re each other’s next of kin, but we don’t even know each other’s phone numbers any more. When I fill in a form I still have to tick the “married” box, even though I haven’t seen you for half a decade. It’s a lie.’

  Rion looked at her intensely. ‘It wasn’t once.’

  No, Libby thought bleakly, shocked that he’d brought emotions into it, and had managed to do so with just three small words. It wasn’t once. A montage of images flashed through her mind: Athens under an unexpected foot of February snow, falling like nature’s cold confetti. Tucking her hired wedding dress into her Wellington boots. Coercing two frozen passers-by to witness their simple ceremony in the town hall in exchange for the promise of hot chocolate. Their wedding day had been the first day in her life which hadn’t felt like a lie.

  ‘No,’ she admitted, trying to keep her voice level, ‘it wasn’t once. But it is now. It’s been five years.’

  ‘Indeed it has. Five years in which you could have come asking for this, but didn’t. So why now?’

  She shrugged self-consciously, his words forcing her to ask herself the same question. Why had she waited so long? Because all this time she’d been hoping…? No, she’d always known they could never go back.

  ‘I always supposed you’d get in touch about it. Then I was too busy abroad to worry, but when my job required me to come to Athens it seemed crazy not to take the opportunity to sort things out amicably, in person.’

  ‘You think that there is an amicable way of divorcing your Greek husband?’ He shook his head. ‘Then you do not know very much about Greek men, gineka mou.’

  ‘I presumed that as a Greek you were a man of logic—able to see that there is no sense in remaining married when what was once between us has been over for half a decade.’

  ‘If that was the case, then I would,’ he breathed, and to Libby it felt as though the temperature in the room had dropped to sub-zero. ‘B
ut it’s not. You still want me. I can see it. You always have, from the moment you laid eyes on me.’ He took a step towards her. ‘And even though you ran thousands of miles away from me, you still want me—don’t you?’

  Libby felt her face flush instantly crimson. ‘Even if that were true, sexual attraction is no reason to stay married.’ Especially sexual attraction which had been one-sided from the moment they’d said their vows, she thought wretchedly, knowing he was just trying to find ways to talk her out of it because he thought he needed to protect his bank balance.

  ‘It’s a reason that’s a hell of a lot more substantial than the ones you’ve given me for getting divorced.’

  Libby frantically searched her mind. ‘That’s not true. There are plenty of other reasons why getting a divorce is the most logical thing to do. I mean…maybe…maybe you’ll want to marry someone else in the future.’ The thought made her feel physically sick, but she ploughed on. ‘Maybe I’ll want to marry someone else too.’ She couldn’t imagine it ever being true right now, but at least it might convince him it was time they both moved on, that she had no financial motive.

  ‘So finally we get to why you are really here,’ he breathed. ‘Who is it? Let me guess. An earl perhaps? A duke?’

  Libby took a sharp breath, not anticipating that he’d jump to the conclusion that she meant she was with someone now, but at the same time noticing the way his hand had moved back towards the divorce papers, as if he was finally starting to see sense.

  ‘Does it matter?’ she goaded.

  Rion gritted his teeth in frustration, imagining some effeminate member of the English aristocracy with his hands all over her perfect body. He’d always forbidden himself to think about it in the intervening years, but he’d known her sexual betrayal was likely, for she’d been the most responsive lover he’d ever had. So responsive that at times he’d found it near impossible to show her the kind of restraint he’d thought she’d deserved. Which she never had, he thought grimly, his desire doubling at the thought of taking her with the full force of his need, proving that, even though he’d never be good enough in her eyes, no one else would ever turn her on the way he did.

  ‘Since I’m your husband, I don’t suppose it does matter who he is,’ he said, moving his hand away from the table again.

  Libby shook her head despairingly. When had he got so cold?

  ‘But what possible advantage is there to remaining married? For the last five years I’ve been on the other side of the world.’

  ‘You’re not on the other side of the world any more.’

  She shook her head exasperatedly, deciding to call his bluff. ‘So what are you saying, that instead of signing this divorce paper you want me to back as your wife for real?’

  ‘Yes, gineka mou. That’s precisely what I’m saying.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘YOU can’t be serious,’ she stammered.

  ‘I’m perfectly serious.’

  Libby stared at him in disbelief. How many times had she dreamed of hearing him say that? Dreamed that all this time he’d never forgotten her the way she’d never forgotten him, that now that they were both older, had had the time to find themselves, they could find one another again? More times than she wanted to admit.

  It was the deeply buried part of her heart responsible for those dreams which wanted to believe they were coming true now, but her head knew that was not what was happening. Because she didn’t see before her a man who wanted to get to know her again, who was looking at her with hope. She saw a man who was afraid that she was after his fortune, who was prepared to do anything to protect it.

  She took a shaky step in the direction of the door. ‘I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll instruct my solicitor to be in touch. Perhaps when he tells you that I want nothing from you, you’ll believe it.’

  He took a step towards her. ‘You aren’t curious to find out whether the sex between us is as good now as it was then?’

  Libby’s breath caught in her throat. She could smell the distinctive scent of him, which she’d always thought would sell by the ton if it could be bottled. But there was no way it could be, because it didn’t contain any tangible ingredients. It was the smell of pure male heat, energy, virility, as potent as the first taste of mint on the tongue. It was overlaid with some expensive aftershave now, but she felt in danger of bursting into flames before she even got a whiff of that. And maybe she would have, if not for the cold douse of remembrance that she had never made him feel anything other than lukewarm in return.

  ‘Come on, Rion, don’t pretend I satisfied you in the bedroom any more than I satisfied you in any other area once we were married.’

  He stared at her, almost unsure that he’d heard her correctly. Didn’t she know that even now he was fighting to stop himself from lying her back against the desk and making her his in the most basic way there was? That, despite how far he’d come, she alone seemed to possess the unwelcome ability to remind him how unrefined he truly was?

  ‘You think I’m pretending? Then stay. I can assure you I will take great pleasure in convincing you that I’m not.’

  Libby shook her head. He was just trying to use her weakness for him against her. ‘You can drop the act, Rion. I know you’re only afraid that I’m after your money.’

  ‘Oh, I am, am I?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Or do I just want to give our marriage a second chance?’

  Libby swallowed hard, felt her heart begin to pound, felt it echo at her temples, ‘No…I know you don’t.’

  ‘Well, if you’re so sure then I guess this is it,’ he said, his eyes never leaving hers as he swiftly slid the divorce papers back across the table towards her. ‘But I don’t doubt we’ll be seeing plenty of each other in court. If you still intend to proceed, that is?’

  ‘I—’

  ‘You really ought to think very carefully about exactly what you want,’ he cautioned, as he reached for a slip of paper from the inside drawer of his desk and scribbled down an address. ‘I’m travelling to Metameikos on business tomorrow afternoon. Should you wish to join me, we leave from this airstrip at four.’

  She did a double-take. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I’m travelling to Metameikos tomorrow,’ he repeated, handing her the slip of paper. ‘Come with me and let me spend the next two weeks showing you why getting divorced isn’t in the least bit logical. If I fail, then at the end I will sign.’

  Libby’s mouth dropped open in shock.

  She’d been sure he’d only suggested trying again to protect his bank balance. But now…

  ‘Even if… I can’t—I’m supposed to be working out some potential new tours for next season before my first group arrives,’ she stuttered.

  Rion frowned. ‘Tours?’

  ‘It’s my job,’ she said, realising she’d never explained what had brought her to Athens in the first place. ‘I work for a company called Kate’s Escapes.’

  So she was working, he thought in surprise. In the tourist industry. That explained the tan, but not why. Surely Ashworth Motors had to have fallen on hard times. ‘So come to Metameikos.’ He shrugged. ‘Work out a potential tour there. The scenery is the most beautiful in all of Greece.’

  Libby’s eyes widened even further.

  ‘I…I—’

  ‘Shouldn’t make an impetuous decision, gineka mou,’ he finished for her, striding forward and pinning back the door. ‘Think about it. You have until tomorrow to decide.’

  And with that he ushered her out of the door and closed it behind her.

  Outside his office, Libby stood rooted to the spot, not sure she was capable of the neurological function required to make it down the stairs.

  He’d said he wanted to see whether they could make their marriage work. Even more astounding than that, he’d asked her to go away with him, to work alongside him, in Metameikos.

  They weren’t the kind of statements that sounded particularly momentous. They didn’t offer an answer to world peace or hint at a cure
for some deadly disease. But to Libby they stopped her world on its axis and started it rotating in the opposite direction from the one in which it had been spinning for the last five years.

  Because it showed her that he might be ready for marriage now, in a way that neither of them had been before.

  For never, in the three months they had spent together as husband and wife, had he seemed to want to spend time with her or share his work with her, and he’d only ever discouraged her from working. Nor had he ever really spoken of Metameikos, never mind suggested he had attachment enough to return to the place where he’d grown up.

  Libby leaned back against the door, her memories surfacing like lava in a volcano disturbed.

  No, from the day they’d arrived in Athens, his focus had always been on leaving the past behind him and making it on his own. And whilst she’d been delighted to escape her tyrannical father and leave her past behind too, she’d arrived with a head full of dreams. Dreams about living a life which didn’t revolve around money and status, but love and freedom. But they’d barely finished saying their vows when he’d thrown himself into working eighteen-hour days. She’d virtually never seen him, and on the rare occasions when she had, all he’d done was talk about moving to a bigger apartment, putting money down on a house, finding an investor in his business idea.

  At first Libby had admired his diligence. She knew very little about his childhood, but what she did know was that, unlike her, he’d grown up with nothing, on the poor side of Metameikos. It was understandable that getting another decent job was important to him—especially after the way her father had treated him—and she knew they couldn’t survive on their wits alone. But as he’d come home later and later every day, she’d found his obsession harder and harder and harder to cope with. Because she had known that simply working eight-hour days earned him enough to cover the rent and the bills, so why did he feel the need to work any more? If he loved her, wasn’t spending his evenings and his weekends with her worth more than overtime pay?