by Maya Blake
Unfortunately there was only one place left to look. At the towering figure of the man waiting in perfect stillness facing the altar.
He didn’t twitch nor fidget. Didn’t display any outward signs of being a nervous groom.
His broad back and wide shoulders seemed to go on for ever, and his proud head and unyielding stance announced his power and authority. He didn’t speak to the equally tall, commanding figure next to him, as most grooms did with their best man. In fact both men stood as if to military attention, their stance unwavering.
My gaze flicked away from Axios Xenakis, my breath stalling in my throat the closer I approached. Even without seeing his face I sensed a formidable aura—one that forced me again to wonder why he was doing this. What did he have to gain with this alliance?
He could have any woman he wanted. So why me?
And why had several butterflies suddenly taken flight within my belly?
Wild instinct urged me to fan my rebellion to life. Fight or flight. Pick one and deal with the consequences later.
But even as the thoughts formed they were discarded.
I had no choice. None whatsoever.
But maybe this man I was marrying would be a little more malleable than my father. Maybe—
He turned. And the feeble little hope died a horrible death.
Eyes the colour of polished gunmetal bored into me as if they were with fierce, merciless hooks. They probed beneath the veil with such force that for a moment I imagined I was naked—that he could see my every weakness and flaw, see to the heart of my deepest desire for freedom.
His lips were pressed into a formidable line, his whole demeanour austere. Axios Xenakis could have been in a boardroom, preparing to strike a deal to make himself another billion euros, not poised before an altar, about to commit himself to a wife he’d never met.
I catalogued his breathtaking features. Wondered if that rugged boxer’s jaw ever relaxed—whether the cut-glass sharpness of his cheekbones ever softened in a smile. Did he maintain constant control of those sleek eyebrows so they were permanently brooding? Did his nose ever wrinkle in laughter?
Why was I interested?
I was nothing but part of a transaction to him—one he didn’t seem entirely thrilled about, judging by his icy regard. So it didn’t matter that the olive vibrancy of his skin drew from me more than a fleeting look, or that he was without a doubt the most strikingly handsome man I’d ever seen.
He was a world removed from the boys I’d sneakily dated at university, before my father had found out and ruthlessly thwarted my chances with them before anything resembling a relationship could form.
Axios Xenakis belonged in a stratosphere of his own. One I was apprehensive about inhabiting.
My footsteps stalled and I heard my father’s sharp intake of breath. It was swiftly followed by the tight grip of his hand in warning.
Don’t disgrace the family.
Defiance sparked again.
But then I saw my mother’s head turn. The ubiquitous misery filmed her eyes, but alongside it was a look so fierce it might have been a reflection from my grandmother’s eyes.
It was a look that infused me with courage.
It’s up to you, it said. Do this...or don’t.
My heart thundered. The need to turn around and simply walk away was a wild cyclone churning through me.
At the altar, Axios’s eyes never shifted from me, his stance unchanging in the face of my clear reluctance. It was as if he knew what I’d decide and was simply waiting me out.
And, since I was playing in a game whose rules no one had bothered to apprise me of, there was only one move I could make.
I would play this round, then fight my corner later.
With that firm promise echoing inside me, I stepped up to the altar.
I saw a fleeting disappointment in his eyes before he masked his features. He was disappointed? Did that mean he didn’t want this?
Wild hope flared within me even as bewilderment mounted. If he didn’t want this then there might be room to negotiate. Room to get what I wanted out of this.
Realising I was staring, and that my father had been dispatched and I was now the sole focus of Axios Xenakis’ eyes, I hurriedly averted my gaze. But not before acknowledging that up close he was even more electrifying. Perhaps it was the severity of his grey suit. Or the fact that the hand he held out to me screamed a silent command.
The last strains of the hymn trailed away, leaving behind a charged silence. With each second it weighed heavier, pressing down on me.
His hand extended another inch, and heavy expectation thickened the air.
With a deep breath, inevitably I slipped my hand into his—and joined the stranger who was to be my husband.
Almost immediately he released me. But the sensation of his touch lingered, and a sizzling chain reaction I was unprepared for travelled up my arm, flaring wide.
It was enough momentarily to drown out the intonation of the priest’s voice as he began the ceremony.
I rallied long enough to murmur the words I’d reluctantly memorised and, when the time came, to pick up the larger of the two platinum wedding bands.
With fingers that still trembled I faced Axios. The impact of his eyes, his towering frame, the much too handsome face momentarily erased the words from my brain.
In silence he held out his left hand, his laser eyes boring into me as he simply...waited.
‘I take thee...’
‘For better or worse...’
‘With my body...’
‘Love, honour, cherish...’
‘Till death...’
With each spoken vow my heart squeezed tighter, the mechanical delivery I’d expected to give morphing into a whispered outpouring wrapped in consternation.
The second I was done he reached for the other ring without taking his eyes off me, again holding out his hand for mine.
And then Axios Xenakis spoke for the first time.
‘I, Axios Xenakis, take thee, Calypso Athena Petras...’
The rest of his words were lost to me as the deep, hypnotic cadence of his voice struck like Zeus’s thunderbolt into a place I didn’t even know existed until that moment.
His voice was...sexy. Alluring. Magnetic.
It seemed impossible that a voice could be all those things, and yet I felt every one.
The cold brush of platinum on my skin brought me back to myself just in time to hear the priest announce us as man and wife. To say that my new husband could now kiss me.
I started to turn away. Because this was a far cry from a normal wedding ceremony. And we were far removed from two people in love.
Large, firm hands cupped my shoulders, shocking me into stillness. Unable to stop a cascade of light shivers, I held my breath as he lifted the heavy veil and draped it behind me with unhurried movements. I watched his gaze take in my bound hair, the small headband made of tiny diamonds and pearls that had belonged to Yiayia Helena and the similar necklace adorning my throat.
Had he been anyone else I might have entertained the notion that Axios Xenakis was reluctant to look into the face of the woman he’d just committed himself to. Because when his piercing grey eyes finally settled on me, I caught a momentary confusion, then his eyes widened and his jaw slackened for a split second before he reasserted supreme control.
Any fleeting pleasure I’d felt at gaining some unknown upper hand fled as heat suffused my face at his intense, almost shocked scrutiny.
Admitting that I should have left the make-up artist’s work alone didn’t help my urge to squirm under his candid regard. But I forced myself to hold his gaze, ignore the consternation in his eyes and the humiliating thud of my heartbeat.
Just when I thought he intended to drag the torture out for ever he slid one finger beneath my chin to nu
dge my head upward. Caught in the mysterious hypnosis of his gaze, I watched his head descend, so close that heat from his skin singed mine.
I braced myself, my stomach churning with emotions I couldn’t name.
I’d been kissed before. Those university colleagues I’d toyed with before my father’s bitter reach had scared them away. None of them had elicited this level of shivery anticipation.
His kiss arrived, subtle as a butterfly’s wing and powerful as a sledgehammer. Sensation rocked through me like an earthquake, dizzying and terrifying, leaving me with nothing to do but to brace my hands on his chest, anchor myself to reality somehow.
But all that did was compound my situation. Because the solid wall of his chest was like sculpted warm steel, inviting the kind of exploration that had no place in this time and space.
Pull away.
Before I could, he gave a sharp intake of breath. In the next moment I was free of him and he was turning away.
Back to earth with a shaky thud, I fought angry bewilderment even as I strove for composure before our three-hundred-strong audience.
The feeling lingered all through our walk down the aisle, through our stiff poses for pictures and then the ride back up the hill to the crumbling mansion overlooking the harbour—the only home I’d ever known.
The horse and carriage had been swapped for a sleek limousine with darkened windows and a partition that ensured privacy. Beside me Axios maintained a stony silence, one I wasn’t inclined to break despite the dark, enigmatic looks he slanted me every now and then.
When it all became too much, I snatched in a breath and faced him. ‘Is there something on your mind?’
One eyebrow quirked. ‘As conversations go, that’s not quite what I expected as our first. But then I’m making many surprising discoveries.’
He wasn’t the only one! ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He didn’t reply immediately. Then, ‘You’re not what I was led to expect.’
I couldn’t help my lips twisting. ‘You are aware of how absurd that sounds, aren’t you?’
He stiffened, and I got the notion that once again something about me had surprised him. ‘No. Enlighten me,’ he replied dryly.
‘Not what you were led to expect?’ The slight screech in my voice warned me that hysteria might be winning but I couldn’t stop. ‘Let me guess—you thought you were getting some biddable wallflower who would tremble and trip over herself to please you?’
You were trembling minutes ago, when he kissed you.
I ignored the voice and met his gaze.
He’d turned into a pillar of stone. ‘Considering the ink isn’t dry on our marriage certificate, perhaps we should strive not to have our first disagreement. Unless you wish to break some sort of record?’ he rasped, gunmetal eyes boring into me.
Apart from our marriage, I still didn’t know the precise details of the deal between my father and my new husband and it momentarily stalled my response. But the fire burning inside me wouldn’t be doused.
‘I get the feeling you’re just as...invested in this thing as my father is, so it bears repeating that you’re not getting a simpering lackey who will jump through hoops to amuse you.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Your father? Not you?’
Short of revealing my ignorance on the matter, I had to prevaricate. ‘I’m a Petras—same as he.’
Something that looked very much like contempt flickered through his eyes. ‘Consider me forewarned,’ he replied cryptically.
Before I could query what he meant the limo was pulling up to the double doors of my family home. Liveried footmen hurried to throw our doors open.
Inside the rarely used but hastily refurbished ballroom guests drank champagne and feasted on canapés and my father gave a painfully false speech. I only managed to sit through it by reaching into my pocket and clutching the envelope within.
The moment the speeches were done Axios was swarmed upon by fawning acquaintances, eager to engage the great man in conversation. I told myself that my primary emotion was relief as the stylists, also roped into acting as my attendants, rushed to straighten my veil and train, twitching and tweaking until they were satisfied that I’d been restored to their vision of bridal beauty.
But just when I thought I’d have a moment’s reprieve Axios’s gaze zeroed in on me, his eyes falling to the barely touched food on the plate that lay next to my untouched glass of champagne.
One brow rose. ‘Not in the mood for celebrating? Or are you trying to make some sort of point by not eating?’
I couldn’t eat—not when the inkling was deepening that Axios Xenakis was far from a willing participant in this devilish deal. And if that was the case, what had I let myself in for?
I pushed the anxious thought away and let my gaze fall on his equally full plate. ‘You should talk.’
He lifted his champagne and took a healthy gulp. ‘Unlike you, this occasion isn’t one I feel inclined to celebrate.’
My breath caught, but before I could ask him to elaborate, he continued.
‘And in the interest of clarity let me warn you that neither you nor your father have any cards left to play. Should you feel inclined to make more demands.’
Christos, what exactly had my father done?
But even as the question burned fire boiled in my blood. ‘Are you threatening my family? Because if you are, please know that I will fight you with everything I’ve got.’
His lips twisted at my fierce tone. ‘What a fiery temper you have. I wonder what other surprises you’re hiding beneath those unfortunate layers of... What is that material?’
As much as I hated my wedding dress, his remark sparked irritation. ‘It’s called tulle. And you should know. You paid for it, after all.’
The barest hint of a sardonic smile lifted his sensual lips. ‘Writing a cheque for it doesn’t mean I pay attention to every single detail of a woman’s wardrobe. I have better things to do than concern myself with the name of the fabric that comprises a wedding gown.’
‘But this is your wedding too,’ I taunted, knowing my mockery would aggravate.
Something about this towering hunk of a man, who’d made it clear that this was the last place he wanted to be, riled me on a visceral level, firing up a need to dig beneath his formidable exterior.
‘Isn’t it supposed to be one of the momentous occasions of your life?’
Every trace of humour disappeared. Piercing grey eyes pinned me in place, and the tension vibrating from him was so thick I could almost touch it.
‘Momentous occasions are highly anticipated and satisfactorily celebrated. You’d have to be delusional or deliberately blind to imagine I’m in such a state, Calypso Petras.’
The way he said my name, with drawling, mocking intonation, fired my blood. Along with other sensations I couldn’t quite name.
‘It’s Calypso Xenakis now—or have you already forgotten?’ I fired back, taking secret pleasure in seeing the irritated flare of his nostrils.
‘I have not forgotten,’ he answered with taut iciness.
‘If this is such an ordeal for you, then why all this?’ I waved my hand at the obscenely lavish banquet displayed along one long wall, the champagne tower brimming with expensive golden bubbles, the caviar-laden trays being circulated, and the designer-clad guests, shamelessly indulging their appetites.
‘Because your father insisted,’ he replied, his voice colder than an arctic vortex. ‘As you well know.’
I opened my mouth to tell him for once and for all that none of this made sense to me because no one had bothered to consult me about my own wedding.
The sight of my mother’s face, staring at me from one table away, pain and misery etched beneath her smile, dried the words in my throat.
For whatever reason fate had tangled the Xenakises and the Petrases in a
n acrimonious weave and my mother and I were caught in the middle. I could no more extricate myself than I could turn my back on her.
A tiny, tortured sound whistled through the air and I realised it came from my own throat—a manifestation of that hysteria that just wouldn’t die down. I stood abruptly, knowing I had to get away before I did something regrettable.
Like climb on top of the lavishly decorated lonely high table, set apart from everyone else to showcase the newly married couple in all their glory, and scream at the top of my lungs.
That just wouldn’t do. Because while I might have acquired a new surname, it was dawning on me that until I learned the true nature of what I was embroiled in I would be wise to keep a firm hold of my feelings.
And an even firmer hold of my wits.
CHAPTER TWO
MONEY MAKES THE world spin.
I swallowed my champagne, careful not to choke on it as I dispassionately observed the guests indulging in the revelry of my sham of a wedding.
Money had made this happen, and in the exact time frame I’d requested it.
Money had put that smug smile on Yiannis Petras’s face.
Money had made the family, decimated by my grandfather’s fall from grace, rally together for the sake of enjoying the rejuvenated fruits of my labour.
I’d seen first-hand how the lack of it could cause backbiting and untold strain. Ostensibly solid marriages crumbled under the threat of diminished wealth and influence. I’d seen it in my parents’ marriage. It was why I’d never have freely chosen this route for myself.
My gaze shifted to my brand-new wife.
Had money influenced her agreement to this fiasco?
Was she getting a cut of the hundred million euros?
Of course she was. Had she not proclaimed herself a true Petras?
For those seconds as she’d hesitated at the altar I’d entertained the notion that she shared my reluctance, had imagined the merest hint of resistance in her eyes.
Her words had put me straight.
A cursory investigation had revealed that while she’d graduated from Skypos University with a major in Arts, she’d done nothing with her degree for the last two years. Her father’s daughter through and through, sitting back and taking the easy route to riches.
