The Greek's Million-Dollar Baby Bargain

by Julia James

  ‘She cared for Andreas—I know she did. I saw them together.’

  ‘She cared for his money, that was all. The Theakis wealth. That’s what she got pregnant for.’

  His stark, cruel denunciation stabbed as punishingly as it had done four years ago, when Nikos Theakis had come to take Ari from her. She looked away, down at the crumpled dress on the floor. Slowly she bent to pick it up. She couldn’t wear it now. She stared at it a moment. Then she turned back to Nikos. His face was still stark.

  Was that really what Carla had done—tried to get Nikos to make her his mistress, and then turned to Andreas out of spite when she was rejected?

  It was horrible to think of—horrible to think of the world Carla had lived in—a world where she had been regarded as some toy by rich men, as one of any number of girls provided for entertainment. Paying her way on a luxury yacht by making herself sexually available, out to get what she could, any way she could, from the rich men there…

  I never wanted to think about Carla like that. It was always too horrible—too sordid. But that’s the way Nikos saw her—with his own eyes…

  Sombrely she put the dress away, smoothing down its folds. ‘I won’t wear it,’ she said in a low voice.

  But words grated from him. ‘No—wear it, Ann. Wear it and look in the mirror when you do. And see the woman you are. Like your sister—beautiful on the outside, but on the inside—’

  He stopped, mouth tightening. For a moment his eyes burned into hers, and she felt slain by them. Then, without another word, he walked from her room.

  Her thoughts that day remained sombre, disturbed. Nikos had ripped a veil from her—a veil she had kept in place of her own volition. She had known what was beneath, but had not wanted to look. But it was there, all the same. Indelible. Staining her sister’s memory.

  No wonder he hated her so much.

  The words formed in her mind, weaving in and out of her thoughts, haunting her. She tried not to hear them, but they would not leave her.

  She did her best, though—busying herself first with Ari, who was getting progressively more excited as the day went on, then with greeting Tina’s family, and then with the enlarged company for dinner. She remained unobtrusive, for the focus of attention was—as it should be—on Tina. For herself she was more than happy to stay on the sidelines, and take care of Ari.

  The following day was very similar, with Tina’s family relaxing, making the villa seem very full. Sam came over for lunch, and Ari was in his element, introducing him to any of Tina’s family who had not already met him.

  ‘This is Dr Sam.’ He beamed. ‘He is not a sore tummy doctor. He is an old things doctor. Very old things. Older than Ya-ya.’

  This, of course, drew amused laughter—including from Mrs Theakis. She was being—Ann would never have thought otherwise—an exceptionally kindly hostess to her new guests. But what Ann also had to acknowledge was that so was her son. He was as welcoming and as pleasant as any guest could wish. There was no trace of arrogance about him, nothing of the rich man condescending to his employee’s relations.

  Ann found herself watching him. She told herself she was merely watching out for him—making sure she kept a physical distance from him, making sure she said nothing that might draw his unwelcome attention to her. But she knew it was more than that. She knew that seeing him talking, smiling—even laughing—his manner relaxed and easy, was doing things to her insides.

  Like tying them into knots. Tight knots. Squeezing hard.

  Deliberately she stayed at the edges of the company and the conversation, effacing herself as much as she could. This worked until Tina’s mother, directly addressing her, said, ‘Tina says she is so relieved you are here, Ann—to take Ari’s mind off the fact that she is leaving.’

  Ann smiled a little ruefully, first glancing to see that Ari himself was out of earshot, his eyes only for the radio controlled car that Tina’s parents had brought for him as a present.

  ‘Tina must not worry too much. Ari will get used to her absence,’ she said. ‘It may sound upsetting to an adult, but at his age he will adapt very quickly to new circumstances.’

  ‘I do hope you are right,’ said Tina’s mother doubtfully.

  Ann sought to reassure her. ‘Well, I lost my mother at four—Ari’s age. And I have to say I have almost no memories of her—certainly not of losing her. My “memories” of her are really my sister’s. She told me about her. It was much worse for Carla—Ari’s mother. She was nearly nine, and felt our mother’s death very badly.’

  ‘Oh, how very sad! And for your father, of course.’

  ‘He wasn’t there any more. He left when I was born,’ replied Ann.

  ‘Good heavens—how dreadful for you two girls, left alone. What happened to you?’

  Ann didn’t really want to answer Tina’s mother’s enquiry, but it was made with concern and sympathy, so she answered briefly. ‘We were fostered. Luckily Carla and I were able to stay together, which doesn’t always happen when children are taken into care.’

  Tina’s mother smiled sympathetically. ‘You must have been very close to your sister?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was all Ann could say. She looked away—and found her gaze colliding, as if with a stone wall, with Nikos’. He was looking at her, his expression strange. She snapped her eyes away immediately, and to her relief Mrs Theakis moved the conversation onwards again.

  Tina’s wedding day dawned as another beautifully warm and sunny day, with the villa and its beautiful gardens creating a fairytale setting. With the civil ceremony having been conducted on Maxos, for the Greek authorities, Tina and Sam returned to the villa later in the day for an Anglican blessing, held under a vast gazebo erected on the largest terrace and conducted by Sam’s uncle, a Church of England canon, attended by all their family and friends, as well as the Theakis family.

  Ann sat beside Mrs Theakis, with little Ari, very smartly dressed, on her lap. Less happily, Nikos was on her other side. She sat very stiffly, drawing herself away from him, but his presence was overpowering all the same, and she was horribly conscious of it through the ceremony. But not enough to distract her from the beauty of the ceremony itself. Canon Forbes blessed the bridal couple and at the end, as Ann watched Sam’s strong hands gently cradling Tina’s face to kiss it, gazing down with love and happiness reflected like a shining mirror from his bride’s eyes, she felt her own swell with tears. She had held them at bay throughout the service, but now they spilled over. Silently they coursed down her cheeks. Surreptitiously she dashed them away with her finger. Then, a moment later, a large silk handkerchief was pressed silently into her hand.

  ‘My mother and Eupheme came better prepared,’ said a low, deep voice at her ear.

  Ann glanced at the older women, and indeed, as Nikos had indicated, both were shedding unashamed tears of emotion, delicately mopped with lawn handkerchiefs. As her gaze moved back to the bridal couple it brushed past Nikos. For a second she wasn’t sure she could credit what she thought she had just seen in his face as he stared at Tina and Sam. Some strong emotion she could put no name to. Then, as she was still staring, his gaze suddenly flicked back to her.

  The same emotion was still in it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE WEDDING RECEPTION was a lavish affair. Everyone was in evening dress, and Ann, though she wished she had another dress to wear, had no option but to put on Carla’s dress. When she did, gazing at herself, her hair dressed in a low chignon at the nape of her neck, she was glad. It was a beautiful dress! And she knew she looked beautiful in it.

  If there were dark associations with it, she would ignore them.

  Just as she would ignore the man who had told her about them.

  As she had been since Tina’s family had arrived, Ann was glad to be unobtrusive, looking after Ari. Glad too that Nikos was spending his time being a highly hospitable host, which kept him well away from her. After the lengthy wedding dinner came dancing under the stars. Ari,
though getting sleepy, wanted to dance, and Ann smilingly obliged, letting him lead her out importantly, and count with great concentration the ‘one, two, three’ of the slow waltz being played as she held out her hands and he lifted his to hers. The steps brought them close to Tina—who was dancing, Ann realised too late, with Nikos, while her new husband bestowed his favours on one of the other female guests.

  ‘Oh, Ari,’ cried Tina laughingly. ‘Dancing with Auntie Annie and not with me! I’m jealous!’

  Immediately Ari let go of Ann. ‘Tina is next,’ he explained to her, and defected to his nanny. Tina disengaged from Nikos and swept off with Ari. Ann made to slip away, but suddenly her wrist was taken.

  ‘I believe we have changed partners,’ he said.

  And took her in his arms.

  It was done in a moment. She could not stop him without tugging free, making a scene. And she couldn’t—not now, at Tina’s wedding. But her body had gone rigid instantly, stiffening like steel. It annoyed him, she could tell, for his eyes had darkened, his mouth had tightened. She didn’t care, though. Why should she? And anyway, she must not look at him—must not let her eyes anywhere near his face, which was so close, must not meet his gaze, above all must not be conscious in any way whatsoever of the touch of his hand at her waist, his clasp of her hand. She mustn’t—just mustn’t.

  But it was useless. Every cell in her body screamed to her of his closeness, the warmth of his body, the firm pressure of the hand at her waist, guiding her steps, the warm touch of the hand holding hers as they turned—she stiffly, he with the same fluid grace that she had last seen when he’d joined his countrymen dancing in the taverna.

  The night he’d seduced her…

  Weakness rushed through her, and if her limbs hadn’t been as stiff as steel she would have collapsed, falling forward against him, requiring his strength to effortlessly support her.

  The music lilted through her brain, her blood, and the rhythm turned them so that imperceptibly, treacherously, she felt it loosen her limbs, dissolving their stiff rigidity—seducing her all on its own.

  He felt it—his hand tightened at her waist, ineluctably drawing her against him. She tried to counter by bringing the hand she was holding inwards, as if to ward him off, but it only meant that his clasp enfolded her hand the more, and worse—worse—caught their hands between her breast and his chest. Desperately she found her other hand clutching at his shoulder, at the smooth, rich material of his tuxedo jacket.

  Her heart had started to slug. She could not stop it.

  Nor could she stop her head tilting, her eyes going to his.

  And drowning.

  And it was bliss—magical, beautiful, wonderful!—to be held in his arms and wafted around the floor, the soft folds of her chiffon rustling and lifting and floating, the lush, seductive strains of the music cradling her even as his arms cradled her.

  She couldn’t resist it. Couldn’t! Had no strength, no will. None. So she gave herself to it.

  How long the dance lasted she could not tell, because she had stepped out of time. And not just out of time—out of reality. The reality of what had happened between her and Nikos—the sordid reality of what he thought of her—the angry, bitter reality of her loathing of him—seemed to have vanished. While the music lasted reality was banished. Only the magic remained—the magic of being in his arms, his embrace, of gazing up at him, lips parted, as his eyes fixed on hers in that wonderful, magical, drowning gaze that absorbed everything that existed.

  Then, out of nowhere, the music stopped—and so did the magic. Blinking, she realised she had stopped moving, become aware of the world again, of the other people there and little Ari, tugging at her dress.

  Dazed, unfocussed, she looked down. Ari’s face was alight with excitement.

  ‘The fireworks are starting!’ He tugged her towards the stone balustrade looking out over the sea in the direction of Maxos.

  There was a sudden ‘whoosh’ and a collective gasp—including a squeal from Ari—and the fireworks started. It was a spectacular display, probably visible from Maxos, and Ann appreciated that it was a generous gesture by the Theakis family to the townsfolk, as well as to Tina and Sam. It went on for ages, dazzling the night sky, and Ann was grateful. It gave her time to try and calm down—not that it ever stopped her being punishingly aware of Nikos, so close to her. But since he was holding Ari, who was squealing in excited delight throughout, at least it meant he couldn’t try and touch her.

  But would he want to, anyway? Since she had refused his diamonds he had not made the slightest attempt to come near her. He was obviously perfectly happy to go off with the likes of Elena Constantis—and who knew how many other women?

  So why had he danced with her?

  There had been no reason for him to take her in his arms and waltz with her, as if…as if… She felt her heart squeeze suddenly, painfully. As if it were the most romantic thing in the world— the most magical, the most wonderful. The pain clutched her again. As if he had never offered her a diamond necklace for sex and told her she was a hypocrite not to take it…

  That was what she must remember! Nothing else! Not those few stupid, foolish minutes in his arms as the lilting music had danced in her veins and the magic had woven its velvet dreams into her head.

  With a stupendous crescendo the fireworks ended. Ann turned away from the balcony and saw that Ari was almost asleep on Nikos’s chest.

  ‘Bedtime, poppet,’ she said, and moved reluctantly to take him from Nikos.

  ‘I’ll carry him,’ came the reply, and he started to thread his way towards the French windows leading inside. ‘He’s already asleep.’

  Ann followed him inside. She’d half thought to stay out with the party, simply to keep away from Nikos, but Ari had reached out a hand for her.

  ‘Auntie Annie put me to bed,’ he said drowsily, but with a plaintive note. So she followed Nikos, her chiffon skirts sussurrating.

  It was so quiet in the nursery quarters—and quite deserted. She found herself tensing, realising how alone she was here with Nikos.

  It took only a very little time to see Ari into bed. He was already asleep as Nikos laid him carefully down, then stepped away to let Ann gently ease him into his pyjamas, lightly sponging his face and hands, then tucking him in with his teddy. For a moment, forgetting Nikos’ presence, she soothed Ari’s hair, feeling the soft silkiness beneath her fingers. His lashes were so long, she thought—almost as long as his uncle’s…

  She bent to drop a silent kiss on Ari’s forehead, then straightened. Nikos was standing at the foot of Ari’s bed, watching her. For a moment—a strange, breathless moment—she met his eyes. The light was dim, with only Ari’s night- light on. She could not read the expression in his face, or in his eyes, knew only that she could not look away.

  It was not like any look they had exchanged before. This was—different. She didn’t know why, could only feel the difference. Feel the vibration that went through her—not just through her body, but somewhere deeper.

  Then Ari stirred in his sleep and the moment was gone. Leaving only a whisper behind of an emotion she could not name. Different from any she had ever known. It was strange—disturbing. And something more. Something had seemed to come like a lift to her heart, like music she had never heard before, impressing deep upon her…haunting her like a ghost—a ghost of something that had never been…. could never be.

  Jerkily, she moved to shake out and fold Ari’s clothes, smoothing their creases and draping them over a chair. It was displacement activity, she knew. To give her time to recover her composure after that strange, disturbing moment—and more practically, to give Nikos time to leave.

  But when she could no longer keep smoothing Ari’s clothes she had to turn round—to see, with a quiver going through her, that Nikos had not moved. He was still standing there, watching her.

  She made herself speak. ‘You can go back to the party. I’m staying with Ari. I moved my things into Tina’s ro
om so as to be next door to him.’ Her words sounded dislocated, disjointed. Awkward.

  A second later she wished them desperately unsaid. Oh, God, had he thought she was telling him deliberately where she was going to sleep, hoping he’d come to her? Or, worse, would he now think he could?

  But he didn’t reply to what she had said. Instead, his eyes still resting on her, he spoke. His voice was low, grating—almost reluctant, as if he spoke against his will.

  ‘You were right to wear that dress. You look—breathtaking.’ There was a pause—minute, but telling. ‘Nothing like your sister looked in it. Nothing at all…’ His voice seemed to trail away.

  She couldn’t speak, did not know what to say. The silence stretched between them, the tension thick. For a moment longer he just went on standing there, looking at her, as she stood immobile, motionless. Then, with the slightest alteration of expression, his gaze loosed hers at last and he left the room.

  For quite some time Ann could only stand there, still immobile. There seemed to be a hollow somewhere inside her, but she wasn’t sure where.

  Or why.

  Nikos stood on the terrace outside his bedroom, his hands curved over the stone balustrade, looking out to sea. The scent of jasmine and honeysuckle caught at his senses. And not just at his senses—his memory. How short a time ago he had stood here with Ann, waiting to take her into his arms, his bed, seducing her in the sweet Aegean night—

  He had not wanted the music to end. He had not wanted to let her go. She had seemed so—different. Not the woman he knew her to be. And just now, when he’d watched her put Ari to bed, how tenderly she’d kissed him, how naturally her affection for him had seemed to show. It had made strange, disquieting thoughts form in his head. Questions he wanted her to answer—but why he wanted her to answer them he would not ask himself.

  He went on gazing out over the sea, disturbed, unsettled.

  Restless.

  The next day seemed very flat, and when Tina’s family had left after lunch, profusely thanking Mrs Theakis and Nikos for their wonderful hospitality, it seemed even flatter. Ari felt it most, Ann knew.