by Tessa Radley
Zac’s breathing grew ragged.
“Like this?” The blunt hardness probed her.
Pandora arched her back, sweat breaking out along her spine. “Yes,” she hissed out. “Just like that.”
He slid all the way in, and goose bumps of pleasure broke out over her skin at the intense sensation that swept her. She moaned and clutched at his shoulders.
He moved inside her. Pandora gasped. His hands relaxed a little, creating a space between them, and she felt him slide out, then he was pulling her close again, impaling her, the friction unbearable. Her pulse was hammering in her head, growing louder and louder until it became a roar.
Zac swore, harsh and succinct, and sank into the water, submersing them both below the surface. The sudden cold broke the daze of desire, and with a jerk Pandora realised the roar in her ears was real—not her heartbeat but the sound of a chopper. She yanked her arms from around his neck and crossed them over her breasts—way too late.
“Don’t worry, they can’t see us. We’re in the lee of the rock.” He held her locked against him, and the speed of his thrusts increased.
Pandora was torn between worry that they might be discovered—that the helicopter might sweep overhead—and the feverish escalating sensations that threatened to send her spinning into a climax.
“I can’t hold back.” His voice was hoarse. His hands tightened on her rear, pulling her closer still.
“Don’t you dare—”
He was moving wildly against her, within her. “I can’t hold anymore.” And then he was shuddering, his large body trembling against her.
Pandora was aware of a terrible burning frustration before the sound of the beating rotors drowned out everything except the fear of discovery.
Zac swore. “Who the hell can that be?”
Pandora hoped frantically that Zac’s assurance that no one except his family knew about his island hideaway was true. And that the paparazzi hadn’t found them.
In silence they rapidly pulled on their clothes and jogged back to the villa. A helicopter bearing the logo of a commercial operator was partially visible on the helipad atop the flat roof by the time Pandora followed Zac up the stone stairs to the terrace and through the side door into the house.
She was excruciatingly conscious of her tousled hair and the wet patches where her T-shirt and shorts clung to her sea-dampened body, sure that anyone could see at once what they had been doing.
As the sound of a woman’s voice reached them, Zac’s pace increased. “What are you doing here, Katy?”
“Don’t be so rude, brother dear.” Katy shook her head. “Pandora, it’s fabulous to see you again.” Pandora was enfolded in a quick hug and an airy kiss landed on her cheek. Zac’s sister stepped back. “Look at you, so tanned. You look wonderful.” She drew a breath, bubbling with radiance. “I’ve picked up a little weight, can you see? The doctor said I was too thin—we’re trying for a baby again.”
Zac gave a sigh. “I suppose that means you won’t come to your senses and leave Stavros?”
“Zac!” His sister pinched his arm. “Don’t joke.”
Pandora glanced from one to the other, trying to follow the byplay. She didn’t think Zac was joking. He looked dead serious, his full mouth set in a hard line. What had Katy’s husband done to deserve his ire?
“Where is Stavros? I don’t suppose you left him behind in Monaco? Or at one of Angelo’s resorts?”
“Zac! Don’t be naughty. You know we’ve been in London.”
Naughty? Pandora sputtered over Katy’s choice of adjective. Zac was too male, too dangerous to ever be described as anything as boyish as naughty.
Katy was babbling on. “He’s here. He’s coming now. He wanted a quick shower. Be nice to him, Zac. For my sake. Please.” Katy gazed up at her brother with soft, imploring green eyes. “He’s trying really hard. He’s promised me there won’t be any more…slips at the casino tables.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Zac muttered sotto voce. Pandora glanced at Katy to assess her reaction to Zac’s taunt. Either she hadn’t heard the last comment or she’d chosen to ignore it. Deciding it was time to give Zac and his sister a little private family time, Pandora moved to the door.
“Where are you going?” Zac demanded.
“I thought Katy might appreciate something cold to drink in this heat.”
“That would be lovely. Thank you, Pandora.” Katy threw her a white smile.
“Maria will be up in a moment. Come sit down.” But Pandora barely heard Zac. Her attention was riveted on the man walking through the door arch.
“Steve!” The strangled whisper died in her throat. No, it couldn’t be. Not now. But the man looked horribly similar. Same curly black hair and brown eyes, same corded, lean body.
There was no doubt in her mind—it was Steve.
Older, a little softer, but still good-looking in an ivory-skinned, raven-haired, continental kind of way—and still very aware of the impact of his looks. He hadn’t seen her yet; he was too busy directing that practised charming grin at Zac.
Of course, Zac didn’t appear charmed at all. But then, Zac wasn’t an impressionable almost-eighteen-year-old.
God, she’d landed in a nightmare.
She bent her head forward, hoping to remain unnoticed, peeping with fatalistic trepidation through her damp hair, her heart twisting in her chest, making her feel quite ill.
Zac had ironed the distaste out of his face. “Stavros, you missed my wedding. Let me introduce my wife, Pandora.”
Finally Steve—Stavros, whatever his name was—looked at her. Pandora wanted to drop through the floor. How could she have fallen so hard for this man? Next to Zac he looked so lightweight.
“Pandora?” Zac frowned at her.
“Oh, hi,” she greeted breathlessly to make up for her lack of manners. Please don’t say anything, she prayed.
Stavros was staring at her and she read the knowledge in his eyes. He remembered her. Damn. A quick brooding glance in Zac’s direction, then his attention came back to her, a hint of malevolence in his smile. “It’s been a long time. How are you, Pandora?”
The words were a death knell.
There was a horrid silence.
Then Katy said, “You know Pandora? What a coincidence. How nice for Pandora—she knows hardly anyone yet. Where did you guys meet?”
Pandora prayed harder.
Steve—Stavros, she amended—must have seen something of the desperation in her eyes, because he gave a dismissive laugh. “It was a very long time ago.”
“It couldn’t have been that long ago,” Zac drawled. “My wife is not yet twenty-one and she was a schoolgirl not so long ago. Fill us in, Politsis. Please.”
“Zac—” Pandora tugged at his sleeve. “Can I speak to you alone?”
“Now?”
“Yes.” Pandora felt light-headed with shock. She must be white as a sheet.
A bride pure in mind. A bride pure of body.
God, why had she lied? She’d failed Zac on both counts. He would never forgive her, but she could try to explain….
Maria chose that moment to arrive with a tray of cold drinks. Katy signed her thanks and took one off the tray with a big smile at the old woman.
Pandora edged to the door, dragging Zac with her.
Katy’s glass clinked against the table as she set it down. “So where did you and Pandora meet? I can’t remember you ever going to New Zealand?” Katy was asking her husband with interest.
Pandora quickened her pace, nerves balling her stomach into a tight knot.
“We met in Sardinia. Pandora was there with a group of friends.”
Beside her, Zac halted, his biceps tense as steel under her fingertips.
“Zac, I need to talk to you,” Pandora pleaded, desperation drumming inside her head.
“Wait.”
Panic clamoured inside Pandora, cold and frightening. She tugged his arm again. “Zac, please…come.”
; “Oh?” Katy invited, sounding intrigued. “Did you know any of the girls? Anyone I know?”
“I’d become friendly with one of their brothers—we’d struck up an acquaintance on the beach playing volleyball.”
Zac swung around. He shot Stavros a lethal narrow-eyed look and then the full weight of his attention descended on Pandora.
The green eyes were not warmly intent but slits of ice. She squirmed under his glacial gaze, then looked away, unable to handle the accusation there. She knew that she was flushed now, no longer pale. But the shocky feeling was growing worse. Anxiety and guilt must be written all over her.
“Pandora, look at me.”
She shook her head.
“Look at me!” His voice was a whip crack.
She flinched. Her head shot up. There was distaste and rage and pain in his eyes. She swallowed and forced herself to maintain eye contact. Zac knew.
“You told me he was dead,” he murmured through bloodless lips.
Eight
Pandora ran.
Locking herself into the guest bathroom, she bent over the basin, her temples throbbing. Not even the icy water she splashed on her face helped clear her head. At last the pulsing started to ease, and she straightened and stared at her wan reflection in the mirror.
She couldn’t stay here all day. So after wiping her hands on a fleecy white towel, she moved to the door, pressed her ear against the dark-stained wood and listened.
Everything was silent. No shouting. But then, Zac was too civilised to ever do anything as uncouth as shout. Her heart hammering, Pandora opened the door a crack.
The sight of the man leaning against the wall made her start.
“Wait.”
She relaxed a little when the figure morphed into Steve, not Zac. Warily she made her way out into the passage.
“You made a beautiful bride. The duckling has grown into a swan.”
She was horribly conscious of her damp shorts, the clinging T-shirt and her hair hanging in rats’ tails. “I didn’t know Zac was your brother-in-law, Steve.” If I’d known, I’d never have married him. But that didn’t help an iota. Not now.
“It’s Stavros, actually. Steve is the anglicised form of my name.”
She ignored the explanation. “You weren’t at the wedding. Did you know it was me?”
“How could I miss the photos plastered over every paper, in every magazine? Imagine my surprise at reading about my brother-in-law’s luck at finding you—the rich, beautiful virgin who fulfilled the criteria of the Kyriakos legend.”
Don’t search for those photos in the newspapers tomorrow. The lies and half-truths that accompany them will upset you. Concentrate on us, on our future together. Zac’s words came back to haunt her. And she’d thought them so romantic at the time, thought he was taking care of her…that he loved her. No wonder Zac hadn’t wanted her reading the tabloids, hadn’t wanted her to find out why he was marrying her. Another bit of her dream splintered.
“So you knew it was me.” She eyed Stavros thoughtfully. He’d had the advantage of knowing they would meet eventually.
If only she’d had an inkling.
Fighting for composure, Pandora tried to get a handle on the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and cast around for a way to handle this gracefully. Right now she needed to get her mind together before the inevitable confrontation with Zac. “Look, I was very young then. It was over a long time ago.”
“You wound me.” His hand rested on his heart. “I tried to get in touch with you but your father—”
“Wouldn’t let you contact me. I know. He told me. He thought you were an opportunist.” She gave Steve a hard-eyed stare. Steve’s mouth looked fleshy, self-indulgent, nothing like Zac’s beautifully molded mouth. Had her father been correct? Had Steve been after her trust fund and her father’s fortune?
Had Steve married Katy for her money?
“You mean nothing to me now, Stavros. You’ve got a wife, I’ve got a husband…” Her voice trailed away at the scornful look in Stavros’s eyes.
“What?” she whispered. “Why are you looking at me like that?” The blood started to hammer in her head and she rubbed her temples.
“You won’t have a husband for much longer. Zac’s not going to want you now. You’re soiled goods—and he’s the Kyriakos heir. Your marriage is over, Pandora.”
“What is going on here?” Zac came around the corner like a predatory cat hungry for prey, his eyes flashing accusingly as he took in how close Stavros stood to her. Pandora inched hastily away. “Is this a tender reunion of love rediscovered?”
The ache in her head intensified at the contempt in his voice. Soiled goods. She felt sick. “Excuse me.”
“You’re not going anywhere, wife of mine.”
But Pandora had had enough. She plunged past Zac’s outstretched arm and fled back into the bathroom and turned the key.
Pandora barely made it to the toilet before she started to retch, shock and horror causing her churning stomach to convulse.
When she opened the door again, Zac was waiting, his arms folded across his chest, his gaze hooded. Her heart sank like a stone. Of Stavros there was no sign.
Putting her head down, she brushed past him. Zac’s hand caught her arm. “Pandora—”
“Not now, Zac.” She wrenched away and broke into a run. By the time Pandora reached her bedroom, her heart was racing. But no footfalls followed.
Locking the door, Pandora ran a bath and added bath gel. But not even the frothy bubbles could lift her mood as, filled with self-recriminations, she sank back into the scented water.
What had made her lie to Zac?
Yes, that awful experience three years ago had been utterly humiliating. She’d wanted it erased from her life. Forever. And, yes, she’d sensed how important it was to Zac that Steve—Stavros, she had to get used to calling him that—was out of the picture.
Dead was as out of the picture as it got. It had seemed such a petty little white lie telling Zac that Stavros was dead.
As far as she was concerned, the damned man was dead. She’d never expected to see him again. So she’d lied on the spur of the moment. To make it all go away.
Not terribly clever. And now Zac would never forgive her. She’d lied to him, broken his trust. She had to come to terms with that. This time she’d gone beyond the pale.
The biggest irony was that more than anything in the world she wanted to stay married to Zac.
Oh, she’d been outraged that he’d brought her to Kiranos without her consent, angry that she’d been forced into a situation where she could not escape…where she’d been forced to listen to him. But none of that had stopped what she felt for him.
She loved him.
Pandora covered her face. She loved him. The past week and a half had been wonderful, the honeymoon of a lifetime.
Yet for Zac their marriage was one of convenience. Except, inconveniently, she wasn’t the virgin he required. But against all odds he’d been adamant that he wanted her to stay, to give their marriage a chance, giving her a rock of hope to cling to that he might grow to love her. After all, he’d said he loved her sense of humour, loved her appearance, her intellect. That had to count for something.
Even though she’d failed him at every turn. And how she’d failed him. Pandora ran shaking fingers through her hair. He’d wanted a virgin. She’d slept with his brother-in-law. He’d wanted a wife he could trust. She’d lied to him.
Her loss of virginity was something she couldn’t change, her maidenhood was gone forever. She didn’t hanker after that. Her virginity—or lack thereof—didn’t make her a worse or better person. But she’d lied to Zac. She’d told him that Stavros was dead. And that was something she could never forgive herself for.
She doubted he would, either.
It was hours before Pandora could bring herself to face Zac and the others again. Finally she went down to dinner, only to find that the meal was still half an hour from ready and tha
t Katy and Stavros were already gone.
“I sent them away.” Zac stood with his back to the wall of windows, a dark shadow against the waning light.
Pandora sank down onto the ivory leather and resisted the urge to burst into tears. “Your sister wanted to see you. Don’t let this come between the two of you—I know how close you are.”
“How can it not?” Zac didn’t meet her eyes. His skin pulled taut across his slanted cheekbones. “Every time she comes to visit I will be forced to stare into the face of the man who took my wife’s virginity.”
“I’m sorry.” It was a cry of despair.
He didn’t respond.
“Do you want a divorce?”
Zac stared at his wife, shocked at the bald question. She was pale, her pink mouth the only hint of colour in a too-white face. The lower lip shook slightly, giving him some idea of how tough this was for her, but her remarkable silver eyes were steady as they held his.
She wasn’t hiding from her lie. And she’d already realised the implications of it. He wanted to deny it, drum his fists against the wall, tell her that it didn’t matter, because she was his wife, goddammit. That she’d always be his wife.
But it did matter. He was the eldest—the only—Kyriakos son. And he’d always known what his destiny had to be. Torn, he held her gaze, unable to utter the word that he knew had to be said. Yes.
But she must have read something in his eyes, because her teeth bit into her lip until he could see a white mark forming. He wanted to demand that she stop.
He moved. Instantly she drew her legs up until her feet perched on the edge of the seat and her knees formed a shield in front of her. “So Stavros was right. He told me that you’d want a divorce.”
He wished he could get his brother-in-law’s scrawny neck between his hands. Shake him. For the pain he’d caused Pandora.
He squared his shoulders. “I don’t want a divorce.”
“You don’t have a choice. That’s what Stavros said.”
He hated that she’d been listening to Stavros. Hated that Stavros was right. Except he didn’t want a divorce. He raked his fingers through his hair.
