Bought for the Billionaire's Revenge

by Clare Connelly

  ‘Warned me?’ A smile flicked at the corners of his lips. ‘You think this is something for which I needed warning?’

  ‘Well...’ She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘I don’t know.’

  Her eyes dropped to the tiled floor, where the soapy water was fleeing the scene, racing towards the drain.

  ‘Not warning,’ he said firmly. ‘Just...explanation. How is this possible?’

  Her cheeks were glowing; she could feel them. ‘Well, it’s not that difficult. I’ve just abstained from having sex. Hardly rocket science.’

  His laugh was thick and throaty. Desire flickered in her abdomen, surprising her into blinking her eyes up at him. The air around them seemed to be supercharged with awareness.

  He sponged across her décolletage, then lower, slowly, torturously circling one already over-sensitive breast.

  ‘Was it a decision you made? To remain a virgin?’

  She was on a precipice. The question wasn’t a simple one to answer. If she responded with the truth it would reveal so much more of her heart than she wished to show him! What if she were to tell him that she’d never met a man who’d made her feel remotely tempted in the way he had?

  Instinctively she shied away from handing him such a degree of power. ‘Yes. I made a little pre-nup with myself,’ she breathed with a hint of sarcasm.

  He transferred the sponge to her other breast, his attention focussed on the small orbs and the erect nipples that were straining for his touch.

  ‘You wanted to sleep with me back then.’

  She shrugged. Her heart was pounding, though. Why hadn’t she realised that he would hone in on that? ‘Any chance we can not talk about this?’

  He opened his mouth to say something, but then he nodded, a muscle jerking in his cheek. ‘I was surprised,’ he said simply. ‘You’ve had boyfriends?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ she said, thinking of the handful of men she’d gone on dates with. The men her father had approved of. Suitable men who had left her stone-cold.

  ‘Then how...?’

  ‘I thought we weren’t talking about this?’ she reminded him quietly.

  He nodded once more, his frustration obvious despite his acquiescence. ‘It’s just so unusual. You are twenty-three years old.’

  She nodded, but speech was becoming difficult as he moved the sponge lower, dragging soapy suds over her stomach and lower still, to the space between her legs.

  The warm water was heaven against her body. She moaned as he dropped the sponge to the ground with a splash and let his palm rub against her womanhood instead. After wondering briefly if she should be ashamed of the certainty that she wanted him again, she discarded the thought, pressing herself lower, begging him with her body not to remove his hand.

  He watched as a fever of desire stole through her body. ‘You must have been tempted. From what I recall you had a healthy sexual appetite when we were together.’

  She gasped as he teased a finger at her entrance, incapable of responding.

  ‘I had imagined you to have slept with several men by now.’

  How those thoughts had tortured him!

  ‘Yes, well...’ She groaned, lowering her hips, begging him for more. ‘We’re not all as libidinous as you.’ She pushed the words out from between clamped teeth.

  ‘You are,’ he said simply, marvelling at how her body was clamping around him.

  He dragged his lips along her jaw, nipping the flesh just beneath her ear before taking an earlobe into his mouth and flicking it between his teeth.

  She writhed against the tiles and he jerked in immediate response.

  ‘I would take you again already if I weren’t worried about hurting you.’

  ‘You won’t hurt me,’ she promised throatily. Her eyes were enormous as they lifted to his. ‘I want you. Now.’

  He arched a brow, moving his mouth to her breasts. The soap had long since been washed away and they were warm and moist between his lips. The feeling of his lips on her flesh made her jerk.

  ‘Nik!’ she cried out, digging her nails into his shoulder.

  The name jarred. No. Out of nowhere, it infuriated him. A white-hot rage slammed against him—completely inappropriate but impossible to ignore.

  Just her simple use of that name—as though she was slipping back into the past and forgetting that they were no longer a couple. Yes, they were married, but resentment had led to that. Anger, and even hatred. Referring to him as she had done when they were together wasn’t something he welcomed.

  Nik she’d called him back then. Never Nikos. And her lips had always curved into a sweet smile, as though his name was an invocation of secrets and hopes.

  But that had all been a lie. She hadn’t really cared for him then; she’d just made him believe she had. She’d played the part perfectly. And he’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Well, not again.

  She had married him, but only for the sake of her father. Just as she’d broken up with him because of her father. This was a business deal, plain and simple, and just as in business he needed to keep his focus. Her virginity, while interesting, did not change a thing about their arrangement.

  He lifted her against the tiles and wrapped her legs around his waist, driving into her as though his life depended on taking her, on being one with her. It was just sex, but Nikos didn’t want anything else from Marnie, anyway. And, no matter how great the sex was, he couldn’t forget that.

  It was up to him to remember just who he’d married.

  She was cold to the core—except in his bed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  MARNIE PADDED DOWN the stairs, her eyes straining a little against the brightness of Greece and the whiteness of his home. It was warm, too, though a breeze shifted through the wide corridor, lifting her Donna Karan dress as she reached the ground floor.

  The house was quiet, except for a buzzing noise coming from the direction of the kitchen. Curious, she followed the sound, her tummy making a little groan of anticipation.

  She’d slept late.

  Then again, she’d been up late, too.

  Her cheeks flushed as she remembered making love to Nikos in the shower, and then afterwards, when she’d almost drifted off to sleep, she’d felt his mouth teasing her body, drifting over her breasts, down her abdomen, to torment her one last time.

  It had been a fantasy. She could almost believe she’d dreamed the whole thing. Except that she felt a little sore and tender in the light of day.

  The sight of her husband in the kitchen made her heart skid to a stop. She swallowed, drinking him in hungrily. Awareness flooded her body. He was dressed in a business shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing those dark, muscled forearms of his. The shirt sat tucked in at the waist, revealing that honed stomach and firm hips. A burst of adrenalin and desire flared through her.

  She bit down on her lower lip in an attempt to stall the smile that was threatening to split her mouth apart.

  ‘Morning,’ she murmured, her eyes sparkling with remembered intimacies.

  He flicked a gaze to her, then returned his attention to the broadsheet paper that was spread across the bench. ‘Coffee?’

  Her smile was quick to snap into a small frown. ‘Oh...um...yes.’

  She wasn’t sure he’d heard; he remained perfectly still, his head bent as he read an article. After several long seconds he sipped his own coffee, then placed the mug down and moved to the corner of the kitchen. She’d expected to see a machine, but she saw Nikos had one of those stainless steel coffee pots. He poured a measure for Marnie and she wrinkled her nose, remembering instantly his predilection for coffee so thick it was almost like tar.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll have tea instead.’

  He shrugged. ‘I would be surprised if you find teaba
gs. I don’t drink the stuff.’ He left the coffee cup on the bench beside her, then topped up his own mug. ‘Speak to Eléni about your requirements. She will see the house has whatever you need.’

  ‘Eléni?’ Marnie murmured, her voice soft in response to his emotional distance.

  ‘My housekeeper,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Right.’ She nodded, sipping her coffee and pulling a face at the liquid, claggy against her tongue.

  Her eyes lifted to the window, and beyond it to the view. The beach was shimmering in the distance, invitingly cool given the warmth of the day.

  ‘I’m happy to go shopping.’ A frown pulled at her brows. She wasn’t sure she wanted to leave a housekeeper to run the house completely. ‘I suppose we should talk about that, actually.’

  He gave no indication that he’d heard her. Whatever he was reading was apparently engrossing. Or he was avoiding her like the plague. But that didn’t make sense. Not after what they’d shared the night before.

  ‘Nik?’ she murmured, moving to stand right beside him.

  There it was again. The word that he hated hearing from her mouth. Nik. The name that had given him such pleasure in the past was now like an accusing dagger in his gut. A reminder of what they’d been contrasted with what they were now, of the pain of their history and the resentment that had fuelled this union—all contained in that small, soft sound. Nik.

  Harsh emotions straightened his spine. He pressed his finger into the page, marking his spot, then lifted his eyes to her face. He skimmed her features thoughtfully, careful not to betray the emotions that the simple shortening of his name evoked.

  ‘I think we should stick with Nikos, don’t you?’

  The rebuff stung. No, it killed. A part of herself withered like a cut flower deprived of water.

  She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the tears she could feel heavy in her throat. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer Mr Kyriazis?’

  A muscle jerked in his jaw but he returned his gaze to the paper and read on for a few moments before closing the pages and turning around, propping his butt against the edge of the kitchen bench. His eyes locked with hers.

  ‘What did you want to speak to me about, Mrs Kyriazis?’

  She swallowed, all desire to act the part of his wife for real evaporating in the face of his coldness. Confusion was swirling through her, biting at her confidence bit by bit.

  ‘The housekeeper,’ she said finally, knowing the only thing worse than looking overeager was looking like an idiot who couldn’t finish a thought. ‘I can do some of her stuff.’

  He arched a brow, silently imploring her to continue.

  ‘Well,’ she said, bitterly regretting embarking on this path. ‘I did my own shopping at home. Most of my cooking, too. I also took over the gardens.’

  ‘You? Who can’t tell wisteria from jasmine?’ he prompted sceptically.

  She squared her shoulders. ‘That was a long time ago. I love flowers now. Roses especially.’

  She was babbling. What was that pervasive feeling of grief? And how could she stem its tide?

  ‘Do you grow roses here? I suppose not. They’re more of an English thing, aren’t they? But, anyway, you said you have gardeners. In England I...’ She tapered off at his complete lack of responsiveness.

  ‘Eléni has been my housekeeper for a long time,’ he said finally, his tone as far from encouraging as it was possible to get. ‘I am not willing to offend her. She will not want to share her responsibilities.’

  Marnie stared at him with rich disbelief. ‘Even with your wife?’

  His smile was not softened by anything like happiness or pleasure. ‘My wife has other responsibilities.’

  Marnie reached for her coffee. Thick and gloopy or not, it still had the ability to put some fire in her blood. ‘What’s got into you?’ she asked when she’d drunk almost the whole cup. ‘You’re treating me like...like...’

  He waited for her to continue, but when she didn’t speak, letting her sentence trail off into nothingness, he prompted, ‘Like what?’

  He was impatient now. She felt like a recalcitrant child.

  ‘Like you hate me.’

  His nostrils flared as he expelled an angry breath. ‘Your words, agape, not mine.’ He pushed up off the bench. ‘I’ll be home for dinner.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ She stared at him incredulously.

  He laughed. ‘Well, Marnie, I have to go to work. You see, our so-called marriage is really a business deal. You’ve upheld your end of the bargain spectacularly well so far—even bringing your virginity to the table. Now it is my turn. My assistant’s number is on the fridge, should you need me.’

  He walked out of the kitchen without so much as a kiss on the cheek.

  She stared at his retreating back, gaping like a fish dragged mercilessly from the water. Hurt flashed inside her, but anger was there, too. How could he be so unkind? They were married, and only hours earlier had been as close as two people could be. That had moved things around for her; it had changed the tone of her heart. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been the day before, or the week before, or when they’d made this hateful deal.

  But for Nikos apparently nothing had changed. Nothing.

  And he hadn’t even told her to call him if she needed anything! She was so far down the pecking order that she was supposed to go through his assistant if she needed her own husband for anything.

  Well! She’d show him!

  She ground her teeth together and wandered over to the newspaper, simply for something to do. The article he’d been reading was an incredibly dry piece on an Italian bank that was restructuring its sub-prime loans.

  She flicked out of the finance section and went to international news. Though she generally liked to keep abreast of world events, she looked at the words that morning without comprehension. The black-and-white letters swam like little bugs in her eyes until she gave up in frustration and slammed the paper shut.

  She sipped the coffee again, before remembering how disgusting she found it, and then glided across the kitchen floor, pulling the fridge open. The platters from the night before were there; they’d been put back on their shelves. The flavours were reminiscent of childhood family holidays, when the four of them had travelled by yacht around the Med, stopping off at whichever island had taken their fancy, enjoying the local delicacies.

  Libby had loved squid. She’d eaten charcoaled tentacles by the dozen. Whereas Marnie had been one for olives, cheese, bread and dolmades. Libby had joked about Marnie’s metabolism in a way she’d been too young to understand, though now she knew that she’d been unfairly blessed with the ability to eat what she wanted and not see it in her figure.

  It was the one small genetic blessing Marnie had in her favour. The rest had gone to Libby. The shimmering blonde hair that had waved down her back, the enormous bright blue eyes, a curving smile that had seemed to dance like the wind on her face, flicking and freshening with each emotion she felt. And Libby had almost always been happy.

  Marnie padded across the tiled floor, drawn to the glass doors that framed the view of the ocean. It sparkled in the distance, and she saw with a little sound of pleasure that there was an infinity pool in the foreground. She toyed with the door handle until it clicked open and then slid the glass aside, stepping out onto the paved terrace as though the breeze had dragged her.

  She breathed deeply. Salt and pollution were a heady mix for a girl who’d spent much of her time in the English countryside. She grinned, trying to put her situation with Nikos temporarily out of her mind. An almost childlike curiosity was settling around her, and she slipped across the terrace and stood on the edge of pool. The water was turquoise.

  Her toe, almost of its own volition, skimmed the surface before diving beneath, taking her foot with it.

  Pe
rfection.

  Uncaring that her expensive linen dress might get crumpled or wet, and for once not thinking about photographers or what people might think, safe in the knowledge that she was completely alone, Marnie lifted the dress over her head and left it in a roughly folded heap on the tiles.

  In only her bra and underpants she slid into the water, making a little moan of delight as it lapped up to her neck. As a child she’d gone swimming often.

  She ducked her head underwater, beyond caring that her artfully applied make-up would smudge, and stroked confidently to the far end of the pool. She propped her chin on the edge, studying the bright blue sky, turquoise ocean and faraway buildings for a moment before duck-diving underwater once more and returning to the house side.

  It felt good to swim, and she lost count of how many laps she completed. Eventually, though, as she drew to the edge of the pool, her arms a little wobbly, she paused to gain breath.

  ‘You are fast.’

  A woman’s accented voice reached her and Marnie started a little, her heart racing at the intrusion.

  Not knowing exactly what to expect, she spun in the water until her eyes pinned the source of the voice.

  A woman was on the terrace, a mop in one hand, a smile on her lined face. She had long hair, going by the voluminous messy bun that was piled on top of her hair, and it was a grey like lead. She wore a dark blue dress that fell to the knees and sensible sandals.

  The housekeeper. What had Nikos said her name was? She wished now she’d paid better attention, rather than focussing her mental skills on just what the hell had happened in the hours since they’d made love.

  ‘You swim like a dolphin, no?’ the housekeeper said, and when her smile widened, Marnie saw that she was missing a tooth.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, inwardly wincing at how uptight she sounded. She tried to loosen the effect with a smile of her own. ‘I’m Marnie.’

  ‘You Mrs Kyriazis.’ The housekeeper nodded. ‘I know, I know.’