The Greek Millionaire's Marriage

by Sara Wood

  They headed for a sickle-shaped beach backed by tamarisk trees where they had spent many glorious hours in the past. She tried hard not to think of those days. What was the point? They’d been a fantasy strictly of her own making, after all.

  Dimitri killed the engine and let the boat drift on the gentle swell towards the shore. Like her, he wore beige shorts, though his T-shirt was blue not white, and more close-fitting, hugging the contours of his broad chest.

  He might have been a fisherman but for his imperious manner that marked him out as a man used to being obeyed. With a shiver of apprehension she watched him leap into the crystal water. The muscles of his arms stood out as he hauled the boat further up the beach and she jerked her head away to stare at the distant islands out to sea because she didn’t want to moon over him any more. Those days were over.

  ‘Take my hand.’

  So many times they had done this. She had ended up in those strong, supposedly loving arms and they had kissed and murmured their adoration while the water swirled around their legs.

  ‘No.’

  Determined to be independent of him, she stood up, preparing to jump into the shallow water.

  ‘Olivia,’ he snapped, ‘she can see us from the house.’ He jerked his head at the promontory. Of course she knew that. She could easily make out the mansion rising from the trees. ‘Just do it.’

  She did. With bad grace. And she didn’t know how it happened, but one minute she was upright, the next she had fallen into two feet of water. On top of Dimitri. They surfaced, spluttering. His arms held her securely. Too securely.

  For a moment she responded, her mouth seeking his in a terrible knee-jerk reaction. How wrong could her instincts be?

  ‘Very good,’ he rasped, fastening his mouth greedily on hers.

  She could feel the anger in him and fought to be free, gasping when the water swirled over their partly submerged bodies.

  ‘That’ll do.’

  Abruptly he let her go. Clamping his hands on her waist, he hauled her up. Water streamed down his contorted face. His eyes were small black chips of glass, his mouth a tight, grim line.

  She had never seen him so close to losing control. He bit out a single word with frightening venom. ‘Bitch.’

  Blindly she staggered to the shore and concentrated on twisting her hair to wring out the water. She was trembling, afraid of what he would do. And suddenly she knew she couldn’t stay here all day, in full sight of the house. He’d be demanding that they gave a convincing performance of two lovers enjoying themselves and she shuddered to think how far he expected her to go.

  ‘I refuse to sit on a beach all day while you pretend to make advances and Eleni watches, poor girl,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I’m not an exhibit. And I won’t have you grope me more than you have to! Take me somewhere else.’

  With a mutter of irritation, he swept his palms over his wet face and shot, ‘Where, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. Anywhere would be hell,’ she snapped.

  ‘Helpful,’ he clipped.

  Her temper flared. ‘If we have to go anywhere together, I’d prefer a drive into the hills. I can sit on one side of a mountain and you can sit on the other, out of my sight,’ she said coldly.

  ‘You’re right,’ he growled to her surprise. ‘I’d prefer not to touch you. Get into the boat. We’ll return to the house and change our clothes—and our destination.’

  Mutely she obeyed. In a horrible, deadly silence, they returned to the harbour. Clearly in a filthy mood, Dimitri helped her to the quayside.

  ‘Face me.’

  ‘No.’

  Ruthlessly he grabbed her arms and stared into her mutinous eyes. ‘A few minutes of simpering, that’s all we need,’ he bit. ‘My arm around you while we walk to the house. Your head leaning on my shoulder. And if you imagine I’m enjoying this, then think again. I have finally discovered what you are, Olivia. A cold-hearted little tramp who seeks only to satisfy her own selfish needs.’

  ‘And you,’ she slashed, ‘are a swaggering bully, with no concept of love or decency, who must hate women because all you do is betray them and hurt them!’

  His arm wrapped around her waist. Stiffly they moved up the little road. Olivia knew she couldn’t keep this up. Being with him like this was a living nightmare.

  To her relief, there was no sign of Eleni when they reached the house. When Dimitri enquired, he was told that she had gone out with a young man in a sports car. Perhaps their ruse was working. She hoped so.

  Walking indoors, she changed into a blue cotton sundress and met Dimitri by the garage block.

  ‘I suppose this stupid trip is necessary?’ she asked haughtily.

  ‘I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise. I’d rather be sitting behind my desk dealing with a mountain of mail,’ he snapped. ‘But I’m prepared to do this to get you out of my hair. Get in.’

  He looked cool in stone cotton jeans and T-shirt, but when their fingers brushed as he opened the car door for her she discovered that his skin was burning hot. She snatched her hand away and cradled it on her lap as if it had been scorched.

  The moment Dimitri flung himself into the driver’s seat she felt crowded. A hurried, slanting glance at his granite face told her that the hostility between them had reached epic proportions.

  Silent and rigid with tension, she cringed back in the seat and clipped on the safety belt. He drove with grim concentration into the mountains. Miserably she stared out of the window, hardly noticing the scenery. Ruined classical temples flashed by. Tiny domed churches, secret villages designed to be hidden from marauders and the Ottoman tax collectors. The road zigzagged up a steep hill terraced with vineyards and they only came to a stop when a flock of goats blocked their way.

  ‘Health to your hands,’ Dimitri said courteously to the men amiably moving the goats along, and smiles and greetings returned his traditional acknowledgement.

  It was sickening the way everybody adored and admired him, she thought bitterly. He was a fraud. A man without a heart.

  The car crawled along at a snail’s pace till Olivia felt like screaming. Her head ached from the tension and misery she was keeping under tight control. This hideous situation was making her ill and she resented that.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she muttered through her teeth.

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Find somewhere quickly where we can stop. I’m not spending the whole day cooped up in this car with you.’

  ‘I’m killing time. If you have any ideas, then share them,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘Any hill will do, providing you’re on the other side of it!’ she muttered.

  He stabbed a hard finger at the radio. The soft strains of a sad love song murmured through the icy silence. Olivia closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly to stop the tears from escaping. Unable to bear the tug on her emotions any longer, she punched the ‘off’ button and slumped back miserably in the seat.

  He shot her a quick glance and wished he hadn’t. Her lashes were wet with tears and there was a tell-tale shiny trail shimmering down her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Why her distress should upset him, he didn’t know. But it did. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and soothe her, to say that everything would be all right—when he knew full well that in a few days they’d be parting for ever.

  And what of his revenge? He had meant to make her dependent on him. To hunger for him and beg to be loved in return. Then he had intended to reject her so that she knew what it was like to feel passionately for someone and be callously dismissed, as she had dismissed him. But now he couldn’t do that. His feelings were too raw, his own emotions too disturbed. She was slowly destroying him. All his instincts were telling him to call a halt to the charade they’d agreed to play. He couldn’t stand this disruption of his mind and body any longer.

  ‘Olivia,’ he began huskily.

  A movement told him that she had averted her head. Quickly estimating where they w
ere, he pulled off at the next turning and drove down a bumpy track. They had to work out a strategy for ending this as soon—and as painlessly—as they could.

  Nikos was already lining up eligible young men for Eleni—and apparently she had dates every night that week. He was sure that soon she would no longer be a problem.

  That meant he could risk putting Olivia on the plane home that evening. As that thought permeated his consciousness, his eyes widened at the sharp contraction in his chest. Astonishingly, his head seemed to explode with pain. And he screeched to a stop in a flurry of dust and burning rubber.

  ‘What?’ yelled Olivia, clutching her chest. ‘What on earth are you doing? You nearly broke my ribs!’

  Slowly he turned, dazed, stunned by his realisation. In her anger she looked unbelievably beautiful, her huge blue eyes fixed on him in searing fury. There were small freckles on her gold-tinged nose, winging across her cheekbones in such a heartbreakingly appealing way that he felt his hand move out to touch them before he knew what he was doing.

  ‘Keep your hands off me!’ she stormed, slapping it away. ‘And explain why you’re practising emergency stops!’

  Such a soft mouth. Designed for kissing. The heat in his loins intensified and he had to look away. He needed to think. To talk to her. To put an outrageous suggestion to her.

  The risk to his pride was incalculable, but if he didn’t he’d never forgive himself.

  ‘I’m sorry. I had an idea,’ he croaked, his mouth dry with nerves.

  ‘Let’s hope it involves imminent separation.’

  Muttering something rude under her breath, she folded her arms and waited for him to drive on.

  It took a moment before he could clear his brain and find the gearstick. When he did, his gaze lingered on the long, tanned length of her leg and he knew he’d do anything to keep her.

  Olivia felt the heat of his eyes and tugged her skirt down over her thigh. ‘Don’t even think it,’ she snapped.

  Without a word, he put the car into gear and drove on carefully down the rutted track, at the end of which he parked.

  ‘I think we should talk,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Is that so? First, I don’t trust you,’ she muttered. ‘Second, it’s a bit late for that. Third, I have nothing to say.’

  ‘I have, though. I think I will surprise you.’

  A quick glance at his face told her what she’d feared on hearing his low, seductive tones.

  ‘You sit here and surprise yourself, then,’ she said, flinging open the door. ‘I’m going for a walk. Alone.’

  The way her body moved as she strode away just made his breath choke in his throat. She held herself proudly, the tilt of her beautiful head a little too high on that slender neck. The stiff swing of her arms and the jerky movements of her legs were touchingly childlike in their anger. That, more than anything else, made his heart do a small skip.

  There was no woman like Olivia. Dazed, he watched the resolute figure of his wife, with her blonde hair flying in the breeze, and prepared to use every weapon at his disposal to persuade her to stay.

  When she reached the top of a small rise Olivia found herself looking down on a small circular theatre, rather like the one at Epidauros but with only ten rows of marble seats. It had been poorly preserved and had become overgrown with scrub and wild flowers, though the central court—where the actors had stood perhaps two thousand years earlier—was still intact.

  Determined to while away the time until she could return to the privacy of her own room at the mansion, she began to walk around the upper rim, blanking her mind to everything.

  The tread of her feet disturbed brightly coloured lizards, their quick, darting movements making it look as if they were jewels flashing in the bright sun. As she brushed the low bushes of thyme and velvety sage their leaves released powerful oils, scenting the air heavily.

  Her heart jerked. She would miss so much. There would be perhaps one or two days left here and then she would be going home. Away from Dimitri…

  The pain in her bruised heart stole her breath, and she sat down on the cold marble seat. Everything had been so perfect. Dimitri, the love she’d thought they’d shared, this beautiful, fierce blue sky, the warmth of the sun on her aching body, the fabulous views and fascinating history.

  ‘I want you to listen to me, Olivia.’

  She blinked and looked down to the source of the voice. Dimitri stood in the circular court below, as he had in Epidauros that fatal day when he’d said he loved her—shortly before she had discovered him with Athena. The acoustics were perfect. Although he spoke quietly, she could hear every word.

  Coldly she stared down at his dark head. He had nothing to say that would touch her. Not now.

  ‘It doesn’t matter that you don’t love me,’ he said, his face lifted up to where she stood. She tensed. He looked as if he was pleading with her. ‘The fact is…’ He sighed, with a helpless spread of his hands. ‘I don’t think I can bear it if you go…’

  Liar! Rage and pain seared through her. Turning her head away, she tightened her jaw. Now what? Did he need half an hour of sex? She would have left him there, spouting his lies, but she felt suddenly bone-tired. Let him ramble on. It wouldn’t make any difference.

  ‘…and when it dawned on me that you’d be almost certain to leave in a day or two, I…’

  Oh, clever, she thought, jerking her head back to see what fake attitude he was adopting now. Contemptuously she noted the dipped head, the clearing of his throat. What an actor he would have made. If she didn’t know any better, she would have been convinced of his misery.

  Especially when he raised his head. Even from where she sat it was possible to see that his eyes were shining a little too brightly. Her tender heart contracted, and then she came to her senses and anger once again filled every cell in her body. Hard-eyed, she let him continue, to see how far he’d go to get what he wanted.

  ‘It’s true, Olivia. I can’t live without you!’ he blurted out throatily. ‘Do what you like here. Live where you like, so long as it’s not too far away. But let me see you sometimes. Let me prove to you that…’ His chest rose high and fell again, and she heard the long hiss of his breath as it emptied his lungs. ‘Olivia,’ he cried in ringing tones, ‘I love you more deeply than I ever imagined. I always have, always will. Let me love you. Take care of you.’ He knelt on the dusty stone floor, and she stared at him, mesmerised. ‘I do love you, Olivia. With every inch of my body, every breath I take, every thought in my head. I want you to be the mother of my children—’

  She jumped to her feet, unable to stand any more. And she walked back to the car. Too late, she thought unhappily. He was making his pitch at the wrong time, because it just hurt her to hear him protesting his love, to be offered the chance to bear his children.

  Stumbling, she tripped and fell onto the stony track with a cry of pain as her head hit a small rock. For a moment she lay there, all the stuffing knocked out of her by Dimitri’s cruel pretence. And suddenly he was with her, gently turning her over, gathering her into his arms.

  ‘Leave me!’ she moaned, and thudded her fists weakly into his chest.

  ‘You’re hurt,’ he said in a choking whisper.

  His finger lightly explored her forehead and she winced, her eyes narrowing at his devastated expression. Why would he look so miserable? It didn’t make sense. Unless he was upset at being turned down.

  ‘Anything else damaged?’ he enquired, still croaky.

  Her heart. It had been smashed beyond all repair, she wanted to tell him. But he was gently rubbing at her elbows and the heels of her hands, which were white with road dust, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from releasing a small sob of self-pity.

  Because the care and concern in his expression just made her ache.

  ‘I want to go back,’ she said in a tone as dead as her eyes. ‘I don’t want to do this any more. I’ve reached my limit.’

  ‘Of course.’ He swallowed and looked
at her as if his world had come to an end. ‘I love you, Olivia,’ he jerked hoarsely.

  She turned her head away and stared coldly into the mid-distance. After a moment his hands slid away and he helped her to her feet.

  ‘There’s a first-aid kit in the car,’ he muttered.

  Snatching her arm away from his supporting hand, she grimly stomped back along the track. Mentally she left the beauties of Greece, and one Greek in particular, far behind.

  When he came up to where she sat on the ground, with the first-aid kit on her lap, she pointedly ignored him and continued to dab at her forehead with the calendula cream. The silence seemed to crush her like a heavy weight. Briefly she looked up at him, to see why he was standing there, staring at her, and she stopped breathing.

  His face was dead. The vitality and vibrancy had gone. His skin had a greyish tint and his eyes were no longer a gleaming black but a cold, muddy brown. The liveliness of his mobile mouth had become a pained, downturned line. And the change in him made her want to cry.

  ‘You drive,’ he growled.

  She blinked as he spun on his heel and sat in the passenger seat. Slowly she got to her feet, stunned by the extraordinary way that Dimitri’s vigour had ebbed from his body. And for the life of her she couldn’t understand why—unless it was because he feared that marriage to Eleni was inevitable now.

  It wasn’t until they drove up to the mansion that Dimitri spoke again. ‘I’ll arrange a flight for you to England this evening,’ he said in strangled tones. ‘My jet is in Paris. It’ll have to be a commercial airline.’

  ‘Fine.’ Numb with misery, she crawled out of the car. To her surprise, he immediately moved behind the wheel. ‘Where are you going?’ she blurted out in astonishment, alarmed that he would be driving in his odd state of mind.

  ‘I don’t think it’s any of your business,’ he said wearily, and stamped his foot viciously on the accelerator.