The furniture was all dark honey-colored wood frames with cream and tan upholstery. Bursts of red and lemon accessories broke up the plain walls along with some modern seascape oil paintings, and there were two doors on the interior as well as the door she had ventured out of earlier. Another set of curtains caught her eye now that the room wasn’t dark. They were floor length and she caught her breath. It could only mean one thing: a balcony or terrace lay beyond. She was correct. A wide balcony was set up with a luxurious round table and chair set under an orange silk gazebo for shade. To the side there were sun loungers draped with thick cushions and dark blue towels. A water feature trickled against an old stone wall, and all the edges of the terrace were softened by gigantic urns spilling over with brightly-colored flowers.
Their room and the terrace were on the ground floor so there were no worries about falling from a great height or out of windows, but she would have to be careful to watch Nick didn’t tumble too often on the hard stone. As she turned three hundred and sixty degrees it became apparent that beyond her room’s terrace was a courtyard to each side, some formal gardens and a cobbled pathway that linked them all but disappeared in a winding fashion into a grove of orange and lemon trees. The building was a mixture of rounded towers and square Turkish-looking architecture jumbled and rambling, disappearing in and out of deep green conifers and stone steps with black railings.
But beyond what was almost like a mountain village in Middle Earth was a huge ancient looking wall, a construction that surrounded everything and had to be at least twenty feet high. She had just stepped out of her bedroom into what appeared to be the inner courtyard of what could only be described as a castle! Tito had said they would be safe in Crete, but she had never expected anything like this.
And then movement caught her eye. It was Tito leaning with both hands forward in rolled up sleeves against a second floor balcony. He wore a plain white shirt that was open at the neck and its fine fabric moved with the breeze. She could see the dark tanned triangle beneath his throat and a hint of chest hair. It was as black and silky as the hair on his head. He appeared to be staring out toward the sea, or at least she guessed it was the sea as there were mountains rearing up behind the property in the opposite direction. She raised her hand to catch his attention, but as she did his head dropped as if he was staring at his feet. Her heart sank; it wasn’t the kind of body language that spelled out deep joy. She wondered if she should call out, but before she summoned the courage he had disappeared back inside and Erica felt hollow.
“Forget him,” she muttered to herself. “Let him have his little mood if that’s what it is. He wanted this after all.” Stepping back in through the double doors herself she couldn’t help but wonder for a second if Tito’s apparent misery was down to her and whether she should feel bad about it. She shook herself and took a deep breath. “Don’t even think about turning into a good little Greek Wife doormat, missus.”
Erica suddenly realized she was thirsty and wiped the back of her hand across her gritty feeling mouth as she shut the double doors behind her. It might be a castle, but she was still on edge about security and needed to know exactly what the set up was before she could properly relax. “There has to be some water around here,” she muttered and opened secret door number one. It was a bathroom, a very large and very nice bathroom, but it wasn’t wise to swig straight out of the tap.
“Abracadabra,” she exclaimed and pushed open door number two. “Yes!” It was a kitchen come living room with three more doors leading off from it. This place was like the Tardis. She left the door open so she could hear if Nick stirred and opened the tall American-style fridge. “Wow.” It was fully stocked with a whole range of things, certainly enough to keep a family of four going for a week at least, but her immediate need was for hydration not the tempting bottles of white wine, beer, and champagne that twinkled in the specially designed rack inside.
She twisted the cap off a mineral water and drank deep, but before she could swallow more than two gulps, her senses went into overdrive. She heard the swish of a door opening and spun round to see Tito striding toward her.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” His expression was serious, his perfect stride as mesmerizing as a supermodel’s. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“Thirsty.” She took another swing and closed the fridge door.
“It was a long day yesterday, but you’re perfectly safe now.”
“I saw the high walls out there a minute ago. You never said you had a castle.”
“I didn’t worry you with it yesterday, but you fainted briefly on board the jet.”
“I did? I don’t remember…”
“The medic on board said it was probably a combination of not having eaten and stress. Mary tells me you didn’t eat any breakfast before the wedding, correct?”
“There wasn’t time, and I wasn’t hungry. Did I really do that?”
He frowned. “That would explain it. Anyway, you appear to be a lot better now you’ve had a good night’s sleep.”
“How long was I out for?”
“Just a few minutes, but I was very concerned.”
“Oh.”
“And you went out like a light when we got you here. So are you sure you’re feeling okay now? Because I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t remember going to bed. What if something had happened in the night to Nick, and I was too out of it to do anything? What if he had started choking or, well, anything like that?”
“The same as what would have happened if you were back in your flat in the UK. You would have woken up or not woken up. The doctor checked you over and said the best thing was to let you sleep.”
“Your doctor checked me over while I was unconscious? Without me giving my consent?”
“I gave consent.”
“What?”
“I’m your husband, remember. I can do that kind of thing now.”
“I should smack you for behaving like that. I’m not your property. In fact—”
Tito reeled back from the slap she landed on his cheek.
“Christ…”
“You deserved that,” she spat before stepping backward, throwing the water bottle at his head and walking out.
“Wait.” His voice was gruff, and she felt his hand enclose her wrist and pull her back. “What else was I supposed to do? Swallow that stupid pride for a moment, will you, and tell me what responsible thing I should have done instead.”
She put her hands on her hips, which made her feel a little bigger as she squared up to the tall, broad specimen of a man that was her husband. “I only have your word for all this, and I’m not sure I believe you. Why should I trust anything you tell me? I hardly know you after all.”
“Then I will get Doctor Mamalakis back in to vouch for what I say.”
Erica ran the tips of her fingers over the neckline of the T-shirt she was wearing over her panties. “And who undressed me?”
Tito did his best to suppress a smile even though the chances were high that he was going to get another ferocious slap. “Your husband, of course. Who else?”
Erica felt a lump in her throat and a tremble at the top of her thighs. Describing himself as her husband should repulse her, but instead it was turning her on, and there was nothing she could do to stop the wave of desire that was moving over her entire body. “And what else is my husband going to do to me in the privacy of my own…whatever it is here?”
“This is a guest suite. I thought it better to put you in here on the ground floor until I could show you around the place, and then you can choose whichever rooms you like. I have a nursery suite already for Nick but everything is moveable.” He stepped up to her and put the tip of his forefinger under her chin, pushing it upwards a little so she had to look him right in the eye. “And what do you think I should do to you right here, right now? A little light spanking would be fair after that slap you gave me…”
“Try that and I’ll give you another
one. This time I’ll break your teeth,” she said in a voice that was supposed to sound ferocious but came out more like an aroused purr as she closed the gap between them. “But you probably won’t like this much.” Upon which she took his face in her hands, stood on tiptoe, and covered his mouth with hers. She felt him flinch for a second and his torso pulsed with tension as she pressed her breasts against the thin white fabric of his shirt, but as her tongue slipped into his mouth she felt him soften. At least she felt most of him soften, but there was a distinct rigidity building against her stomach through his trousers.
“Erica,” he murmured throatily as her arms slid around his neck. “I shouldn’t have just said what I did. Erica, no.” He peeled her arms away, broke the kiss, and stepped backward.
“Why not?” She licked her lips and smiled. “You’re my husband, right? If you can undress me while I’m unconscious, then surely I get to kiss you now and again? It felt like you were quite enjoying it to me.”
“We can’t have that kind of relationship, you know that.”
“Do I?” She tipped her head to one side and crossed her arms over her chest. “Perhaps you could explain that side of things to me once again. My memory fails me. Or maybe being alone with you like this is simply too overwhelming, and I can’t stop myself from coming on to you.”
“Because I promised to carry out Yannis’s wishes to look after Nick, and because he’s so young, his mother as well. I’m pretty sure he never intended for me to take her for myself in a physical sense. It’s not respectful.”
She needed to break down his barriers bit by bit. “So who exactly did you promise this to? Respectful, my ass. Yannis is dead. He was dead before you even knew about Nick and me.”
“I promised myself and his family.”
“But that was just Nick, the family part, presumably? Not all the Frangos women or whoever else in included in the trustees?”
“Yes, just Nick.”
“This is ridiculous. Yannis wouldn’t care in the circumstances. He’d probably tell us both to go for it. After all, it would be a lot less complicated than both of us being ‘discreet’ with other people.”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
He was exasperating. “Why not? Don’t you fancy me, is that it?”
“It’s not that… I find you intensely attractive, but—”
She took the tip of his shirt collar between her fingertips and tugged sharply. “But what?”
“Because we have very different attitudes to physical relationships.”
She frowned as he took a step backwards. “We do?” She took a step herself to close the gap.
His voice grew louder. “I’m not a testosterone-crazed teenager anymore.”
“Shame.”
“It might seem old-fashioned, but sex needs to mean something. It’s something special between two people who trust and are committed to each other. It’s not only a physical itch that has to be scratched on a whim or after too many drinks.”
He’d be talking about saving himself for his one true love next, she thought crossly. “So you must be highly disapproving of what happened between me and Yannis. Not quite a one-night stand but pretty close to it.”
He shrugged. “What happened, happened. He was trying to do his best by you in the end and …Yannis saved my life once, so I think I can posthumously forgive him for being so careless with a beautiful, enigmatic woman.”
“This is news. What happened?”
“Car accident on a motorway in Germany. I was trapped but he got me out. Everything caught fire seconds later, and there was pretty much nothing left when the emergency services got there. A very bad day.”
There was no mention of court appearance or prison terms so she presumed the accident wasn’t their fault, but the trauma had clearly left a lasting mark. “I had no idea. Sounds pretty rough, but at least you both escaped that time.”
He looked at the floor briefly. “Others didn’t that day, and then Yannis ran out of luck at that damn wedding.”
She could understand his loyalty to Yannis a little more now. “And here I am trying to seduce you into scratching an itch. You must have a very low opinion of me.”
“I don’t really know you,” he murmured.
“Liar. Your people know everything about me, you said. Do they know what color my knickers are and how many men I’ve slept with as well?”
“It was not in their brief, and I don’t need to know.”
Her empathy was fading now, and she felt annoyed that he was appearing to judge her and find her morally wanting again. He didn’t think she was good enough for him just like everyone alive who had the power or influence over her. “The truth would shock you.”
“Please, no.”
The sound of Nick crying cut through the air, echoing off the stone walls and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Nature had a stroke of genius when she hardwired a mother’s entire being to the pitch of her baby’s cry. It was impossible to ignore and demanded that everything stop so that the infant could demand one hundred percent attention.
“His timing is cute,” Erica said with a sigh and went to leave for the bedroom. “No ignoring him now.”
Tito’s warm hand touched her forearm and a tingle shot up her arm to her breastbone. “I still need to discuss something with you urgently.”
“Then come with me, and help me feed and clean up your stepson.”
He looked baffled for a moment and then a light bulb seemed to go off in his head judging by the flicker of his eyes. “My stepson…yes, yes, of course.”
Whatever Tito wanted to discuss had to go on hold for half an hour while Nick was changed, washed, and fed and tolerated none of that in silence. Erica refused Tito’s offer of getting the main kitchen to bring something up. She’d had quite enough of staff and people fussing around for now and wanted to get some sort of normality back into their lives. Her normality, not Tito’s. Nick enjoyed the scrambled eggs and fresh fruit Tito whipped up but couldn’t resist throwing his spoon and bowl and cup on the hard stone floor in the process. The noise in the kitchen was considerable, but Erica was glad that all his breakfast equipment was made of plastic as she sank her teeth into clove-scented sesame rolls with prickly pear marmalade.
Erica watched Tito as he sipped at hot black coffee with one hand and passed Nick bite-sized pieces of the cheese and spinach filo pie he warmed up from the fridge. “You’re pretty good in the kitchen,” she said with a smile as Nick threw his bottle on the kitchen floor again and shrieked with pleasure.
Tito bent to pick it up and put it back on the tray of the highchair with a pretend growl for Nick, who laughed even harder. “For a man, you mean?”
“No, I’m not a sexist. Men should do their fair share of cooking, I think.”
“I avoid it these days.”
“Because you’re so rich and have minions to do it for you?”
He leaned back against the counter and gave her a long look that made shivers run up her spine. The angles of his face, the dark brows, and the green shimmering eyes were beyond captivating. “Because I cooked a lifetime of hot meals in my parents’ hotel for many years of long hours and no pay. It represents slavery to me so I pay someone to do it for me to spare myself the bad memories. Apart from one thing, my grandmother’s moutzentra.”
“Enlighten me, please!”
“It’s lentils, rice, and fried onions, but Yiayia puts in some of her own special extras to make it the best comfort food in the world. Nobody can make it quite like her so I get her to cook me some, and I fill my freezer with it. And I have her secret recipe so if I run out, I make some myself. It’s the only thing I cook.”
“Apart from Prince Nick’s breakfast just then.”
Tito smiled. “He has a small stomach and hasn’t the vocabulary to send it back right now.”
“Breakfast was fine! Even the coffee was good.”
“That’s why my parents kept me down there in that hell-hole
kitchen. Not only was I free, but I was meticulous. Nothing ever got sent out to the table that was less than perfect.”
“Because you’d be punished if it got sent back?”
“They couldn’t dock my wages, and I got too big for them to dare beat me anymore…” He looked thoughtfully out of the kitchen window for a few seconds. “No, I took such care because even then I couldn’t tolerate mistakes. Things like broken fried egg yolks, unevenly colored toast, splashes on serving plates, steaks not cooked to order precisely as requested. I was insane really, and I’m not going back to feeling like that again for anybody.”
“Not even a manly barbecue? You must get your tongs out for that?”
“No, I don’t need to prove myself anymore.”
“I don’t blame you,” she said and picked up Nick’s plastic spoon yet again. All this mess and chaos must be quietly freaking Tito out if he were such a perfectionist control freak, she realized. “Getting smelly hair and burned is overrated.”
He smiled at Nick. “But fine food is not, so I choose to favor the best cooks around and pay them a decent salary to cater to my every whim.”
She’d love to know what his top whims were but kept that to herself. “I suppose Nick and I are two lucky bunnies now. Our kitchen cupboards and fridge were never full most days. But I do really long for one of my dad’s roast dinners sometimes. Roast beef, real gravy, Yorkshire pudding and horseradish sauce…that’s my kind of comfort food.”
“I envy you those memories. We rarely had a family meal together, and I never had a single one made by either parent. No incentive when you have a whole professional kitchen a few yards through some swing doors.”
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Dad was no New Man! He only got the oven gloves on after the divorce, and I suspect he only cooked like that when he had access visits from me every other weekend.” She sighed wistfully. “His freezer was packed with cheap ready meals for most of the time. And ice cubes for his whiskey.”
The Greek Tycoon's Tarnished Bride (Men of the Zodiac) Page 12
