Billionaire Brides: An Anthology

by Connelly, Clare

  At the mention of his sister, Alex seemed to stiffen momentarily. “Ne.”

  Her pulse fired in response to his sexy utterance. It reminded her of the way he’d whispered foreign words into her mouth while they made love. She dipped her eyes away.

  “Helena is only a few years older than you.”

  “And yet you’re very close.”

  “On what do you base this conclusion?”

  “I’ve seen you together. I have two sisters, remember? Sisters I’m close to. I understand the dynamic. The dependence. The silent ability we have of communicating to one another that baffles outsiders.” Her smile was richly enigmatic and his desire kicked up a notch.

  “Is this how it is between us?”

  “Between us?”

  “Between Helena and me,” he clarified with a tight smile.

  “Oh.” Her cheeks burned and she rolled her eyes, embarrassed by her own wishful stupidity. “Yes. She looks at you and it’s as though she’s spoken. You get her.”

  “In a way her husband doesn’t?” He prompted silkily.

  “Oh.” Sophie was stricken. “That’s not really my place to say.” Her words all rushed together, and though Alex’s English was impeccable, he had to concentrate to decipher them through her accent and haste.

  “You are uniquely placed to say,” he corrected.

  Sophie forced her gaze to meet his, and her heart kicked in her chest. He was so beautiful. So breath-takingly stunning. “What are you really asking me?”

  Did she suspect that he knew? Or did she know that he suspected? He brushed his foot against hers beneath the table, enjoying the way her eyes widened instantly at the surprise contact.

  “My sister was very young when she married Eric. He is ambitious. I wonder sometimes if he is making her happy.”

  Eric’s worry that Alex would interfere in his marriage came to the fore of her mind. And yet what could Sophie say? To deny that Helena was miserable didn’t sit comfortably with her. Her breathing was shallow; her lungs seemed to burn with confusion. “Working in someone’s house requires a level of discretion. I’m there, but I’m not there. And I’m certainly not there to judge, nor gossip.”

  “Gossip,” he refuted with a sharp laugh. “I am her brother. Eric is my friend.”

  “Yes,” she nodded, but her eyes glinted with determination. “And I’m sure they would both appreciate my discretion.”

  “You are discreet as a matter of course then?” He asked, thinking of what a necessary quality that would be in conducting an affair with her married employer.

  “Of course. It goes with the job.”

  Alex felt frustration licking at his heels. He had bet on bedding her, but not on finding her this fascinating. He had also not imagined she might prove so difficult to comprehend.

  “You’re very protective of her.”

  “Helena?” Alex clarified, pausing while the waiter served their main course. The delicious aroma of curries and accompaniments surrounded them and Sophie inhaled gratefully.

  When he began speaking, she’d almost forgotten what she’d asked. “My own parents died when I was eleven. Helena was four.”

  “Oh, Alex. I’m so sorry.”

  “We had no other family. My parents were very happy, but very poor. Our apartment was tiny and rented. We were evicted the day after the funeral.”

  “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry,” she said again, for want of anything else she could possibly say.

  He smiled dismissively. “We were put into foster care.” He compressed his lips and wondered why he was telling Sophie this. He had never spoken of that torrid time in his life to another soul. He had kept it out of the press. It was his silent shame and personal pain. Did he want her to feel guilt? To pity the woman she was wounding with her callous cheating? “But the parents were … let us just say they epitomised the worst of the system.” His smile was grim.

  “I’m so sorry.” She seemed to be repeating herself, but the thought of two such young siblings going through what he was describing sent a shiver down her spine.

  “We ran away. Or rather, I ran away, and dragged Helena after me.”

  “What did you do?” She was transfixed.

  “We lived rough for several years. There is a big gypsy population in Athens and they were kind to us. I worked for them.”

  “But what about school? Didn’t you have school?”

  “Not for many years. I didn’t feel comfortable to leave Helena for long. Though we found friends on the street, she was young and always very trusting. I lived in fear of her being taken.” Indeed, his face paled at the recollection of the worry he’d carried for so long.

  “So you see, Sophie,” her name was a caress on his chiselled lips, “I have spent my life protecting Helena. It comes naturally to me to enquire as to her well-being.”

  Sophie, in that moment, longed to confide her own worries in him. For Helena was not happy. She was not well. And no one was prepared to face the truth of that. The burden of being the only one who truly appreciated her illness was heavy to carry.

  Only Eric’s plea kept her silent.

  He was married to Helena, and Helena loved him. She’d chosen to make a life with him, and have children with him. Surely Eric’s wishes trumped Alex’s?

  She swallowed. “How did you get out of that life?”

  He noticed the way she’d deflected his question, but he allowed it to pass. His eyes assumed a faraway look as he reflected on that fateful time. “When I was fifteen, I broke into one of the mansions in the centre of the city.” He shook his head ruefully. “Up until then, I’d stolen wallets from tourists and food from restaurants, but never anything more ambitions. Those houses though …” He shrugged his broad shoulders and laughed, though it had been a desperate, hungry time in his life. “It was to be my first and last house burglary.”

  “What happened?” She was, quite literally, on the edge of her seat. The thought of food was forgotten.

  “It was the home of Pierre Lisoura; perhaps you have heard of him?”

  “The guy who owns the airline?”

  “The very same.” He nodded. “He was in his sixties then, but he was not afraid of me. He could have taken me to the police and had me charged. I do not know why he chose not to.”

  “What did he do instead?”

  “He made me work for him. He told me he’d give me a job for as long as I went to school.”

  “And Helena?”

  “She was old enough for school by then, too. He helped me to enrol us, and he hired tutors to catch me up. Instead of giving me money, he rented a small flat for us, and made sure we had enough to eat. And after school, I would go to his house, and work until late at night.”

  “What kind of things would you do for him?”

  “Menial work initially. At the time, that is what I thought at least. But now I realise he was always teaching me. He allowed me to pour coffee while he had meetings; he asked me to type notes for him on top level negotiations. He noticed early on that I had a keen interest in finance and corporate acquisitions and he began to include me in more and more of this kind of work.”

  “A perfect benefactor for a man such as you.”

  “An angel sent from the heavens; for without him, I would probably be dead or in jail.”

  A shiver ran down Sophie’s spine. “Was it horrible?”

  “The streets? Not as awful as foster care,” he denied with a tight smile.

  “You are still living proof that miracles happen. To have turned your life around like that … I’m in awe, frankly.”

  Yes, he was proof that miracles happened. It was amazing that a street kid like him had climbed the corporate ranks to become almost sickeningly wealthy. “You never really shake it though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The looking over your shoulder, waiting for something bad to happen.”

  The searingly honest statement was news to him. Alex shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
He would have said, until that moment, that he’d dumped the ghosts of his youth many moons ago. So why was he professing something different to this woman?

  It occurred to him that she was one of the seirenes; the sirens, a mythical creature who existed purely to lure men upon the craggy rocks of the islands. She spoke, and it was as if she was singing a song only he heard; was it leading him to his own destruction, like the myths forewarned?

  No! Alessandros could have laughed at the ludicrously indulgent pondering. She was no siren. She was a woman. A sexy, beautiful, undoubtedly self-interested woman. He studied her through narrowed eyes. Even her willingness to sleep with him showed her mercenary spirit. For though Eric was moderately wealthy and had aspirations to political power, he was nothing to Alessandros. That was not hubris nor vanity speaking. If Alex had any doubts as to his own power and success, he could not have borne it long in the face of the articles that had been run about him.

  Gut instinct and self-confidence had done that. He would not let himself doubt those gifts now.

  Helena worried that her husband was cheating, and now Alex knew for certain that he was. He would have put every penny he owned on a bet that something was going on between Sophie and Eric.

  He smiled at her, but the pleasure was all for himself. Helena was going to be okay. Her marriage would survive this.

  Because he would not allow Sophie to be a problem.

  * * *

  9 August, 11.08pm

  From: Sophie

  To: Ava, Olivia

  Well, girls.

  I’ve gone and done something really, drastically dense.

  There! I’ve said it first, so neither of you needs to bother telling me that I’ve taken leave of my senses.

  Do you remember I’ve told you about my bosses? Helena and Eric? Well, Helena’s brother’s in town at the moment. She paused typing for a moment, so that she could catch her breath. Back in her own bedroom, in the small room between the twins’ rooms, the whole affair felt almost like a dream. But it wasn’t! Three glorious nights, and Sophie knew. Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she forced herself to put into writing what she hadn’t dared admit to herself. And I’ve fallen completely head over heels in love with him.

  Okay, I can hear you rolling your eyes, Ava. I know just what you’d say. It’s not possible to love someone you barely know.

  But I do know him. I know so much about him … we’ve talked and talked and talked until our words clog the air. We talk about everything and nothing and I fall asleep wishing I could hear more.

  I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t even know how long he’s planning to stay in London. He’s … what? A billionaire? A mogul? A tycoon? She ground her teeth together and waded back into the email. Pretty busy, I think, so I guess he’ll have to go soon.

  Anyway, I didn’t want to say anything before now, because I wasn’t sure it was real. But it is. It definitely is.

  I miss you both.

  Lots of love, S.

  She pressed send and curled her knees up under her chin. The evening was warm – at least for London – and she was wearing only a simple cotton nightgown.

  Was he still in the house? Her heart fluttered as she imagined him, somewhere there, his body warm, his arms strong. He’d taken coffee with Helena after they got back; a habit that Sophie didn’t personally appreciate. Coffee so late in the evening would have kept her awake.

  And Sophie hadn’t wanted to intrude on their family time, anyway. When he took her away, to his house, or out on dates, they were ‘them’. Sophie and Alex, rapidly becoming an actual couple, despite the fact it had been less than a week since they had met.

  But here, at No. 11 Herringbone Lane, Sophie was the children’s nanny first and foremost. The moment she began sitting around sipping drinks with Helena, Eric and Alex, was the moment the lines would be blurred in an odd way.

  Yet Alex seemed to try to push it. To encourage her to sit with him even when she was obviously not prepared for that. Not prepared for the possible questions from Eric and Helena, either.

  A noise sounded on her iPad. She flicked it open and grinned when she saw two new emails – one from each of her sisters. She opened Ava’s first.

  9 August, 11.10pm

  From: Ava

  To: Sophie, Olivia

  Sophie, no! What are you talking about? What’s the first thing mum taught us about love?

  9 August, 11.11pm

  From: Olivia

  To: Ava, Sophie

  Oh my God! Tell me more! Send a pic! How very, very exciting! O.x

  Sophie laughed at their different responses and was about to write something back when another email pinged through.

  9 August, 11.12pm

  From: Olivia

  To: Ava, Sophie

  Ava Anne Henderson, don’t be such a misanthrope. What mum would or wouldn’t say isn’t important here. What matters is that our sister is in love with a man, for the first time in her life. Why can’t you be supportive of that?

  9 August, 11.14pm

  From: Sophie

  To: Ava, Olivia

  It’s okay, guys. Liv, I know Ava’s just looking out for me. And she’s right. You know she is. Mum learned her lesson the hard way and wanted us all to avoid the same fate. No way am I going to end up pregnant to this guy. And he’s nothing like our father. Or what we know of him, anyway. He was a jerk. A first grade a-hole who ditched a pregnant woman because he was married.

  Alex is wonderful. I could write pages and pages and pages telling you how amazing he is, but you still wouldn’t get it. He’s just … perfect.

  I love him.

  And I know you’re worried about me, Ava, because that’s what you do. But you don’t need to be.

  Have you ever met someone and just known? That though it doesn’t make sense, and there are a million and one reasons to be cautious and go slowly, you just simply can’t? Because you trust that person, and you need that person, and you loved that person, from the first moment you met them …? That’s how it is with us. I’d trust him with my life.

  I love him.

  Okay, on that sappy note, it’s late here. I need to sleep. Don’t argue over this. It’s a good thing. Trust me. You’ll see.

  Xxx

  She flicked her iPad into flight mode to avoid the barrage of emails that she was certain would follow and fell back onto the bed. Her smile was enormous on her face.

  She was crazy! The whole thing was crazy!

  A knock sounded at her door and she pushed up onto her elbows, her heart immediately beginning to pound as she prepared for the sight of Alex.

  Only it was Eric instead.

  “Sorry to intrude,” he murmured in that terribly British way he had. There was something indefinably Hugh Grant about him that always made her smile.

  “You’re not,” she lied, crossing her legs at her ankles and smoothing her nightgown down past her knees. “Is it the twins? Are they okay?”

  “Yes,” he waved a hand in the air dismissively and sat on the foot of the bed. “We were talking the other day and we got cut off.”

  “We were?” She searched her memory and found only Alex. Little fragments of recollection of their time together that were too pleasurable to sweep past. Walks to his house, and through his house, cups of tea on his terrace and long, passionate love-making in his enormous bed.

  “Soph?”

  “Oh!” She felt her cheeks burn and shook her head. “Sorry. You were saying?”

  “No,” he had a slightly teasing tone to his voice. “You were saying, yesterday, something about Christmas and the twins.”

  “Oh!” She nodded jerkily. “Of course.” How had she forgotten? “I hate asking you this,” she said hurriedly, and she truly did. “But I want to get them something special for Christmas. There’s a performance at the Royal Albert Hall, only tickets are …” Her blush deepened. “Well, they’re almost a week’s pay for me. I wondered if you’d …”

 
; “Of course I’ll buy the tickets, Sophie. You don’t even need to ask.”

  “No!” She shook her head, consternation making her eyes wide. “I want to buy them. It’s a gift from me. Only they go on sale this weekend and if I don’t book right away they’ll likely sell out. I was just wondering if you’d mind … loaning me the money, until then.”

  “I’d feel awful for you to be out of pocket …”

  “Please, I want to give the tickets to the boys. Only I’m stretched now…”

  “Of course.” The Aussie dollar being what it was, it was not hard to believe she’d found her money didn’t go so far. And the salary nannies earned was hardly salubrious.

  “You just tell me how much and I’ll have it for you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you.” She named an amount and shook her head. “I’m so embarrassed to have to even ask you.”

  “Sophie, you love my children. What more could I ask for? We are lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.”

  He stood and moved towards the door. Sophie followed him, simply because it felt like the polite thing to do. “Eric?” She said as he pulled it inwards. “Can we keep this between us?” She was thinking of Alex, of course, and how he might try to loan her money if he knew how dire her finances were.

  “Our little secret,” he grinned and tapped a finger under her chin. “We won’t tell a soul.”

  She laughed gratefully, and then a movement behind him caught her gaze.

  Alex. Dark. Menacing. And watchful. A shiver ran down her spine as, for the first time since meeting him, she felt a coldness in him that was capable of freezing her core.

  It was covered over almost instantly, smoothed away into a façade of bland disinterest, so that she presumed she’d imagined it.

  “Alex. You off, mate?”

  He looked at Eric for a long, cold moment, waiting for the urge to punch his friend’s handsome face to subside. And then, behind him was Sophie. Beautiful, treacherous Sophie who controlled his dreams and waking thoughts. Sophie whom he had intended to seduce and pull away from his sister’s home and then discard, who had worked her way into his being and become a necessary component to his existence. She was a drug and yet he was no better nor happier than a heroine addict.