by Tessa Radley
TESSA RADLEY
THE KYRIAKOS VIRGIN BRIDE
For the hardworking hosties at eHarlequin.com—
some of whom I’ve known since I first started writing.
Rae, you held my hand when I needed it most.
Jayne, you’re a cyber lifesaver. And Dee, Lori, Dream
and the rest of the team…you’re all simply awesome!
To MJ and Karen, your guidance is always valued.
Thank you, always!
Tony, Alex and Andrew—where would I be without you
guys to keep me sane? And Karina Bliss, Abby Gaines
and Sandra Hyatt, you’re fabulous friends.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
One
“I do.”
Pandora Armstrong spoke the vow in a clear, steady voice, and a warm tide of radiance swept over her. She sneaked a look up at her groom. Zac Kyriakos stood like a rock beside her, feet apart, facing the archbishop. Serious. Intent. Utterly gorgeous.
He was staring straight ahead. His profile could’ve been culled from any of the statues or friezes in the Acropolis Museum he’d taken Pandora to explore three days ago. The arrogant nose that ran in a straight sweep from his forehead to the nose tip, the strong jaw, the broad and high-boned cheekbones all resembled the marble statues she’d seen. But it was on his full mouth that her gaze lingered. Jeez, his mouth…
Full and sensuous, it was a mouth made for pure sin.
Zac glanced down and caught her staring. His colder-than-glass green eyes blazed, possessive. And that sexy to-die-for mouth curved into a smile.
Desire shot through her. Pandora tore her gaze away and stared blindly at the bouquet of creamy white roses clasped in her free hand.
Dear God. How could she feel like this about a man? And not just any man. This was Zac Kyriakos, who made her feel feverish and shaky. What had he done to her?
Enthralled her?
She blinked, fighting the urge to wipe her eyes, in case she woke up and discovered she’d dreamed the whole thing. How could she, Pandora, Miss Goody Two-Shoes—except for that terrible summer three years ago—have fallen in love so quickly?
Dimly she heard the archbishop say, “You may kiss the bride.”
The vows and the kiss were not part of the Greek Orthodox ceremony. Zac had requested the traditional vows for her sake.
She was married!
Married to the tall, dark and exceedingly handsome man whose right hand she clutched so tightly that her fingernails must be leaving crescent-shaped marks on his palm. Inside, her stomach cramped with nervous excitement. It wasn’t every day that a woman married a man who until three months ago had been a stranger.
“Pandora?”
She lifted her head. Their eyes connected. Heat arced between them. Zac’s eyes smouldered. Possessive. Hungry. But there was a question in those compelling eyes, too.
Pandora nodded, a small, almost imperceptible nod, granting him the permission he sought.
Zac’s hand tightened on hers. The warm weight of his other palm rested on the curve of her hip covered by the embroidered wedding gown passed from Kyriakos bride to Kyriakos bride through centuries. A gentle tug turned her to face him. His head swept down. That devastating mouth brushed hers, warm and intimate.
And just like that Pandora forgot about the archbishop, forgot about the people packed into the pews. Forgot that this was Zac Kyriakos. Shipping tycoon. Billionaire.
The only reality was the sensual touch of his lips on hers. And the heat that shivered through her.
Too soon he set her away. Only then did she become aware of the flashing cameras and remember they stood in a church where nearly a thousand people watched. Instantly the trembling heat evaporated. Despite the blazing white August sun outside, she felt suddenly chilled.
“Goodness!” Pandora’s eyes stretched wide as she stared at the noisy wall of paparazzi surrounding the bridal car as they turned into Zac’s estate in Kifissia, the exclusive area north of Athens where the reception was being held.
“Overwhelming?” A flash of white teeth and a wicked grin lit up Zac’s darkly tanned face. “A three-ring circus?”
“Yes.” Pandora leaned back, trying to hide from the intrusive camera lenses. From the minute she’d stepped off the plane the paparazzi had been waiting to mob her. But Zac and his bodyguards had kept the hungry horde at a distance. Pandora supposed she should have anticipated the furious speculation the wedding between Zac Kyriakos and a reclusive heiress had roused. The great-grandson of a Russian princess and the legendary Orestes Kyriakos, Zac had inherited most of his fortune from his grandfather, Socrates, after Orestes had used his kidnapped bride’s wealth to restore the state of the Kyriakos fortune to its pre-Great War glory. Both Orestes and Socrates had been legends in their own times, and Zac himself featured prominently on the covers of the world’s finance magazines, as well as making the annual list of most eligible bachelors in the known universe for the last decade.
But naively Pandora hadn’t given his fame a thought, hadn’t expected to have her wedding treated like that of royalty.
“Smile. They think our wedding is romantic. A modern fairy tale,” Zac whispered into her ear. “And you’re the beautiful princess.”
Feeling as though she were performing to the gallery, Pandora turned to the window and bared her teeth in a travesty of a smile. The cameramen went crazy. And then they were sweeping through the tall wrought-iron gates, along the private tree-lined avenue through parklike gardens.
“Pandora.” Without warning, Zac’s expression turned serious and he reached for her hand. “Remember what I told you when you arrived? Don’t read the papers. Don’t search for those photos in the newspapers tomorrow. The lies and half-truths that accompany them will only upset you. Concentrate on us, on our future together,” he said, his voice unexpectedly fierce as his thumb caressed the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. “The speculation, the gossip and garbage the tabloids dredge up will destroy you.”
“I know. I already promised you I won’t read the papers.” She sighed. “I only wish Dad had been here.” Her father’s absence was the only shadow that hung over an otherwise perfect day. But since a bad bout of pneumonia four winters ago had left his lungs permanently damaged, necessitating regular doses of oxygen, her father no longer risked airline travel. “I always thought he’d be there on my wedding day to give me away.”
The realization was dawning that she’d left her father and her childhood home far behind. After today, she would spend the rest of her life with Zac. Loved. Adored. The pomp and people didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing except Zac.
Zac’s house—more like a mansion, with its tower and stone walls—appeared before them. This would be her home from now on, together with the town house he owned in London. Zac had also spoken about buying a retreat in New Zealand, near her father’s station.
“Your father may not be here, but I am. I’ll always be here for you.” At the intensity in his voice she turned her head. His hard, hewn features were softened by the sun filtering through the bulletproof glass windows, his eyes curiously gentle. Her throat tightened. She cast around for words but couldn’t find any that matched the moment.
“Are you ready to face the world, yineka mou?” he asked as the car slowed.
My wife.
Pandora shot him a dazzling smile, happiness overflowing within her. She smoothed down the swathes of silk of t
he antique full-skirted gown.
“I’m ready for anything.”
Zac helped her from the car and they braved the informal honour guard of smiling well-wishers that lined the path to the front door. Pandora couldn’t wait to meet Zac’s friends, the sister and cousins he’d talked about incessantly during his stay in New Zealand. She’d wanted to meet them earlier in the week when she’d arrived in Athens. Zac had smiled, his eyes crinkling in that irresistible way that she loved, and told her he wasn’t ready to share her yet. He wanted to play the tourist, he’d explained, to show her around. There’d be time enough to meet his friends and kin and staff later…at the wedding. She’d acquiesced. Zac only had to smile at her and she turned to mush.
They’d met at High Ridge, her father’s vast sheep station in the South Island. Zac had come to New Zealand to discuss the possibility of guests flying in for exclusive stays at a working sheep station in luxury accommodation while a Kyriakos cruise ship docked at Christchurch.
And it had been at High Ridge that the miracle had taken place—Zac had fallen in love with her. A whirlwind courtship followed. Three weeks. Packed with precious hours spent together. Then he’d stunned her with his proposal of marriage, the fabulous diamond ring, the promise to cherish her forever.
Recklessly, she’d said yes. And started to cry. He’d wiped the happy tears away, and his tenderness had made her love him even more.
Her father had been over the moon when they’d broken the news. He’d pumped Zac’s hand up and down.
And then Zac had jetted off back to Europe, back to running the billion-dollar shipping company he’d inherited from his grandfather. And, although an ocean had separated them, they’d spoken on the phone every day. Morning for him. Night for her in New Zealand. During those long conversations, Pandora had come to know the man she’d fallen in love with. There’d been two more lightning-swift visits. And, finally last week she’d flown to Athens for five days of playing tourist in the city with Zac at her side. It had all culminated in the Big Day.
Today.
Now, as they moved forward into the massive arched entrance of Zac’s home accepting congratulations, Pandora recognised some of the faces. She was kissed on the cheek by a famous Hollywood actress and her equally famous husband, a singer in a rock band. Several legendary businessmen wished her and Zac well, and she smiled at a star footballer and his fashion-icon wife.
Inside the huge house she glimpsed a European prince and his popular Australian wife, a socialite who’d sprung to fame from a television-reality show, and several stunning supermodels stood out from the crowd. Pandora’s sense of inadequacy grew.
Her mouth dry with nerves, she allowed Zac to lead her to the dais where the wedding table was set with silver cutlery and exquisite antique crockery.
And still the congratulations didn’t stop. People streamed past the table in a blur of faces. There was no time for intimacy as distant members of Zac’s family, his colleagues and acquaintances smiled at her, until Pandora was sure that everyone in the room wanted a good look at her.
Did she measure up? Or had they expected more from the woman Zac married? The thought was daunting.
She searched the crowded tables. Evie and Helen, two of her school friends from St. Catherine’s, were out there somewhere. For a decade the girls had been cloistered together in the strict boarding school in the backcountry. Except for vacations, Pandora had spent most of her life at St. Catherine’s until leaving a few months before her eighteenth birthday three years ago. Since then, apart from a couple of vacations with friends’ families, she’d helped her father at High Ridge.
Pandora felt terrible that she hadn’t had a chance to greet her friends. She would search them out later, she told herself, looking at the sheer number of people with worried eyes. Even if they didn’t see her, they’d forgive her. Understand that tonight her priority was her husband.
“Here comes Basil Makrides with his wife, Daphne,” Zac murmured. “He’s a business associate.”
Pandora turned to smile at the couple. After the Makrideses moved off, there was a small lull.
“Where’s your sister? I haven’t met her yet.” Pandora had hoped to meet his sister before the wedding ceremony. Had craved company while the skilled hairdresser styled her hair and a makeup artist tended to her face and the dressmaker who’d altered the wedding dress fussed in the wardrobe. It would’ve been nice to have Zac’s sister there…or even the cousin or aunt he’d spoken about. To assure herself that they would like her.
That she would get on with them.
Zac’s face darkened. “My sister didn’t make the wedding. There was a problem.”
Pandora took in his tightly drawn mouth. “Is she…ill?” She probed carefully.
“Nothing like that.” Zac’s tone was abrupt. “It need not concern you. She’ll be coming later.”
Pandora stiffened. Zac never treated her like some silly little butterfly whose opinions didn’t matter. What was going on here? Was this about her…or was there something about his sister—
“I’m sorry. I was too terse.” Zac’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “My brother-in-law is the problem—he’s not an easy man to be married to.”
“Oh, dear.” Pandora drew her own conclusions. “Your poor sister, married to a brute.”
“He doesn’t beat her. It’s nothing like that.”
“Oh?” This time her tone was loaded with curiosity.
But Zac shook his head. “I don’t want to think about my brother-in-law. Especially not on my wedding day. He makes me angry.”
“We don’t want that.” Pandora rested a hand on his arm. “You tell me about it when you’re ready.”
“You are the perfect wife,” Zac breathed and brushed a row of kisses across the exposed crest of her shoulder, causing the man and woman approaching the table to tease him mercilessly. A camera flashed. Pandora jumped.
“Don’t worry,” Zac murmured close to her ear. “Everyone here tonight has been invited—and vetted. There are no members of the press, only family and friends. Oh, and one professional photographer with a spotless reputation for discretion, who will capture memories of the occasion for us to enjoy.”
The press? Pandora’s stomach balled at the thought. She hadn’t even considered them, with their avid hunger for pictures of her and Zac together.
During the interminable dinner that followed, cameras continued to flash while Zac introduced her to wave upon wave of strangers. Celebrities, business acquaintances, distant cousins, hobbling great-uncles. She could see the curiosity in the women’s eyes, sense the men’s speculation.
Why had Zac Kyriakos, given all the choice in the world, married a little nobody from New Zealand? It was a question which Pandora asked herself repeatedly but couldn’t answer. At last she pushed away the nagging feeling that there was something she was missing and let Zac hold her close while he continued to introduce her to their guests.
The first waltz was over.
Pandora stared at the flushed stranger with the sparkling silver eyes in the mirror. Looking away, she picked up a jug and poured herself a glass of chilled water and drank greedily. She’d slipped away to check that her makeup was still intact…to make sure it would withstand the army of cameras that flashed like streaks of lightning across the crowded dance floor, capturing endless images of her and Zac as they circulated the room.
Stroking mascara onto her lashes, Pandora admitted to herself that she found the whole situation overwhelming. How could she explain that despite the enormously rich trust fund that she would come into when she was twenty-five, she found the glamour of Zac’s world—with its famous faces, the constant stares and the unrelenting glare of the cameras—unnerving?
With a sigh, she dropped the tube into her bag and zipped it shut. A last sip of water, then she made her way back to the noise and bright lights and glitz.
“Pandora, over here,” Zac called to her. His height made him easy to find and Pandora t
hreaded her way through the crowd.
“This is my theos Costas—my uncle, my mother’s brother.” Zac introduced her to the man at his side.
Pandora smiled at the older man. Cheery blue eyes twinkled down at her as he took her hand in his.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He lifted her fingers to his lips and brushed a gallant kiss across the tips.
“My uncle is a renowned ladies’ man, so take care.” Zac laughed, his fondness for the older man evident. “I don’t know how Aunt Sophia puts up with it.”
Zac’s uncle shrugged. “She knows she’s the one I love.” The simple words tugged at Pandora’s heart. “You have already met my son.”
Pandora struggled to think who Costas’s son might be.
“Dimitri.”
“Oh, yes.” Relief filtered through her. Zac’s cousin. “He’s the lawyer who drew up the prenuptial and the koum—” she stumbled over the unfamiliar word “—best man,” she amended, “who held the crowns over our heads during the ceremony.”
“Koumbaro,” Zac corrected.
“Yes, koumbaro,” she echoed the Greek word. Zac had explained that, as koumbaro, Dimitri would be godfather to their first child—one day. A wholly unfamiliar feminine quiver shot through her at the thought of a little boy with eyes like Zac. But first she wanted to spend a couple of years alone with her new husband.
“You learn our customs quickly.” Costas looked satisfied. “It has been overwhelming? Meeting so many new people?”
She nodded, grateful for his understanding.
“You can call me Theos—uncle—like Zac does.”
“Thank you, Theos. Zac speaks of you often.” Pandora knew Zac’s uncle had been a father figure to Zac during his teens. A lawyer by profession, Costas had taken an active role on the board of Kyriakos Shipping even though, as Zac’s maternal uncle, he was not a Kyriakos himself. Only when Zac had gained control of the board had his uncle resigned to put all his energy back into his law firm, which he now ran with his daughter, Stacy, and his son, Dimitri. Dimitri ran the Athens office with his father, while Stacy worked in the London office, she recalled. Pandora remembered the respect and love with which Zac had spoken of his uncle during their long nightly transworld calls. “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said.
