The Greek's Bought Bride

by Sharon Kendrick

  Tamsyn flinched as she waited for Xan to reply and his next words came as such a shock that she had to put her hand against the wall to steady herself.

  ‘She’s no slut,’ Xan said. ‘She’s honest and decent and true. And I will not have you speaking about her that way. Do you understand?’

  ‘And you know her mother was no better than a whore?’ continued the older man. ‘That she has children by many different men?’

  ‘Yes, I know that,’ replied Xan slowly. ‘But that isn’t Tamsyn. She’s never really had a chance, but now she’s been given one, she’s come into her own. She’d uneducated but she’s bright. She reads. She plays with Gia’s little girl—and that child thinks she’s an angel. She’s funny. You should meet her. I think you’ll be surprised.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not denying she’s beautiful.’ His father gave an ugly kind of laugh. ‘But that’s the main reason she’s here, isn’t it? You turned down the chance to marry a woman like Sofia, for her? I’ve heard she’s hot, but so what? Whores usually are. You get what you pay for.’

  There was a loud bang, which sounded like a fist being smashed against a desk and Tamsyn was vaguely aware of Xan’s furious response, but by then she had started to run. To run and run until she had left the house and been swallowed up by the dense shadow of a fragrant pine tree.

  Her brow felt hot and sticky by the time she came to a halt and it took a long while before she had calmed down enough to be able to think straight. Time for her breathing to slow and her heart to stop feeling as if it were going to burst out of her chest. Something made her tidy up the strands of hair which must have escaped during her run and to extract a slim tube of lipstick from the concealed pocket of her dress, before applying it to her trembling lips with shaky fingers. Her dress was smooth and she needed her features to mimic that smoothness, so that to the other guests it would appear as if nothing had happened.

  Because nothing had.

  Xan’s father had simply told the truth—and he didn’t know the half of it. And although Xan had sprung to her defence and her heart had melted slightly at his defence of her—it had still been lacking in emotion. He had still somehow managed to make her sound like piece of rock which had been carved into a rough approximation of a human being.

  And suddenly she knew she couldn’t endure any more. There was no way she could stay here, pretending to be someone she wasn’t. If she did that, then these crazy feelings would keep building and building until she was ready to explode. She needed to walk away with Xan never guessing what had happened. To escape, and quickly—but not tonight. Tonight she would continue to play the role expected of her. The shining and loyal wife, basking in her newly-wed golden glow. The woman lucky enough to have finally snared the elusive Greek billionaire.

  She drank a glass of champagne before going back to the illuminated swimming pool to join the other guests, chatting brightly and forcing herself to smile as she accepted congratulations. But her stupid heart turned over with sorrow when Xan reappeared and began to walk towards her.

  Did he read something untoward in her expression? Was that why a frown had creased his brow beneath the delicious tumble of his black hair?

  ‘You okay?’ he questioned.

  She could tell him, of course. She could say she’d gone into the house to meet his father and heard him calling her a whore. But if she did that, the evening would be ruined—and for what purpose? The fact that Xan’s father didn’t like her should be regarded as a positive, surely? It meant he would be delighted when his son announced they were splitting up. Maybe their own relationship would even improve as a result. What was it they said? Every cloud has a silver lining.

  You can do this, Tamsyn, she told herself fiercely. You’ve had a lifetime of pretending everything’s okay. Of acting like it doesn’t matter when other people judge you, or look down their noses at you.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she said, then cleared her throat. ‘Did I see your father arrive?’

  ‘You did.’ An odd expression darkened his face. ‘But he couldn’t stay.’

  ‘Oh? Was he—?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about my father, Tamsyn,’ he interrupted, and suddenly his voice sounded urgent. ‘I just want to be alone with you.’

  Her heart felt like it wanted to break when she heard the note of hunger she heard in his voice, but she couldn’t stop herself from responding to it. ‘Xan,’ she said, mock-sternly. ‘We have guests.’

  ‘I don’t care about the guests.’ His voice dipped. ‘There’s only one thing I care about right now.’

  His smile was hard and his eyes gleamed with an unspoken message. It reminded her that Xan remained a man who always got what he wanted, and right now he wanted sex. Tamsyn shivered as he traced a finger down her arm, knowing she should refuse to go along with it, especially in view of what his father had said earlier.

  You get what you pay for.

  But her mind was made up. She wasn’t going to ruin the night by dwelling on the negative and besides, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Maybe even more. Xan had no idea this was going to be the last time, but she did—and wasn’t it crazy not to want to make the most of every precious second with him?

  ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she questioned huskily, as she went into his warm and waiting arms.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU talking about?’ Xan stared at his housekeeper in disbelief. ‘What do you mean, she’s gone?’

  But he barely listened to Manalena’s distressed explanation as he stormed up to the bedroom because the evidence was there for him to see. He shook his head with disbelief as he pulled open one of the closet doors. Only the most basic of Tamsyn’s clothes were missing—all the fancy ones remained. His throat dried as he reached out to touch the white gown she’d worn at their wedding party, which he’d almost torn in his eagerness to remove it from her body last night. Her unread books were no longer in a pile beside the bedside table and that wide-toothed comb thing she used to rake through her unruly curls in the mornings was nowhere to be seen.

  He dismissed the housekeeper as he saw a note she must have left lying on the pillow, striding across the room to pick it up and resisting the desire to crush it to a pulp within the palm of his hand. It was short and to the point. Was that deliberate? Was she mocking him for that terse note he’d once left her in a faraway desert palace?

  Xan,

  I’ve decided to go sooner rather than later and I didn’t want the bore of saying goodbye, I’m sure you’ll understand.

  Below you’ll find all my bank details and I look forward to hearing from your lawyer.

  Yours, Tamsyn.

  He stared at it, his eyes scanning the words in disbelief, as if there had to be some kind of mistake. But there was no mistake. There it was, in black and white. A stark farewell, which seemed mainly concerned with getting her payment for their short-lived marriage.

  His mouth twisted. He’d gone back to the office this morning, strangely reluctant to leave the seductive warmth of his wife’s body and the lazy caress of her arms after their surprisingly satisfactory honeymoon. The day had seemed to drag in a way he wasn’t used to and several times he’d found himself picking up the phone to ring her, just to say hello, before reminding himself that wasn’t his style and putting it down again. He’d told himself it was normal to be physically aching for her, because they’d been having so much amazing sex since the day of their marriage and they’d been together exclusively for fourteen days and nights. Elena had looked startled when he’d suddenly announced he was leaving early and his heart had been beating like a drum as his car had been driven at high speed to the estate, only to discover that his wife had gone. And to discover just how she had spent her day...

  A bitter taste coated his throat. She must have been silently planning her get-away. How long had she been plotting that, he wo
ndered? While his own driver had been busy ferrying him around the city, she had persuaded Manalena to call her a cab to take her into Athens, supposedly on a shopping trip—before slipping away to the airport to catch a regular flight to London. Had she been laughing quietly as her lips had locked against his that morning, knowing what a surprise she was about to spring on him? Was that why her hand had slid between his legs to find his hardness—he was always hard for her—and guided him inside her slick, waiting heat for one last, bone-melting time?

  He paced over to the window but the bright beauty of the Aegean failed to stir his heart, for his rage and incomprehension were all-consuming. Didn’t she owe him the common courtesy of telling him she was breaking their agreement by leaving early, or at least explaining why?

  He told himself not to do anything. To give himself time to calm down. But even as he thought it, he found himself lifting his phone and barking out instructions to Elena to have his private jet made ready. He didn’t know what he was going to say to his runaway bride, all he knew was that he had to say something.

  * * *

  Tamsyn stared at the photograph, as if doing so could help. It was that old trick of voluntarily subjecting herself to pain before anyone else got the chance to do it. As if that could somehow make her immune to it.

  Some hope. The photograph was from a gossip column and had obviously been taken at the wedding party. She didn’t imagine Xan’s friends were the type who sneaked photos at exclusive social events, but there had been a lot of outside caterers there that night and maybe one of them had captured the moment. And, oh, what a moment to have captured.

  Beneath a headline which proclaimed Greek Tycoon Weds at Last! was a photo of her and Xan. She thought how dreamy she looked and how happy she seemed as she stared up into his face. And Xan? Tamsyn sighed. His darkly contoured features gave little away, but maybe it was good to recognise that. To reinforce that she’d done the right thing in running away from his luxury estate, because if she’d stayed around, growing fonder and fonder of him—then her heart would have been truly broken.

  Yet didn’t it feel a little bit broken now?

  From a long way downstairs she heard the doorbell ring, but she didn’t move. It wasn’t her house—she was just lucky that her friend Ellie from the Bluebird Club had an attic room going free and had told Tamsyn she was welcome to stay there until she’d found her feet again. Funny expression, really. As if someone could lose their own feet. She couldn’t imagine going back to waitressing, yet neither could she summon up the enthusiasm to enrol in college to get herself a late-in-the-day education, despite Xan’s faith in her. And the craziest thing of all was that, having married just to get her hands on his money, she now found herself reluctant to take any of it. The deliberately cold note she’d left for him had been nothing but bravado—done to ensure that he would ultimately despise her and leave her in peace.

  ‘Tamsyn!’

  It was Ellie. With a sigh Tamsyn got up off the single bed, walked across the tiny room and stuck her head outside the door. ‘Yep?’ she yelled down.

  ‘There’s somebody here to see you.’

  Tamsyn blinked. Nobody other than Ellie knew she was back, because that was how she wanted it. Time to lick her wounds and recover—even if right now that seemed like an impossibility. She’d told Hannah she was here, in a rushed phone call to the palace in Zahristan when she’d tried her very best—and somehow succeeded—in not sobbing her heart out as she explained that her brief marriage was over. Surely her heavily pregnant sister hadn’t impulsively flown over to see her?

  ‘Who is it?’ she called back.

  ‘Me,’ said a dark, accented voice which carried up the stairs. ‘Your husband.’

  Tamsyn clutched onto the door handle, trying not to react as she saw a glimpse of the top of Xan’s dark head as he walked up the stairs. A lurch of joy and fear made her feel almost dizzy, but most of all she could feel an overwhelming sense of yearning as his broad shoulders came into view. But she wasn’t going to let him know that, because one thing she knew was that there could be no going back. She could be strong, yes—she’d spent her life trying to be strong in the face of adversity. Just not strong enough to stay with a man who was never going to care for her.

  ‘Xan,’ she croaked, as he drew closer. ‘What...what are you doing here?’

  ‘Not now,’ he said grimly as he reached the top of the stairs. ‘In private.’

  ‘Everything okay?’ called Ellie’s anxiously from the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Everything’s just fine,’ said Xan, in the kind of tone which broached no argument.

  Tamsyn felt even more dizzy as he reached the top of the stairs and gestured for her to proceed him into the room, still with that same grim expression on his face. She told herself she didn’t have to let him in. After all, it was her room, not his—and technically he could even be described as trespassing. She could tell him to leave and only to contact her through her lawyers, but deep down she knew that wasn’t an option—and not just because she didn’t actually have any lawyers. It was more because she wanted to feast her eyes on him one last time. To file away the memory of those cold blue eyes, that hot body, and the sensual mouth which had brought her so much pleasure.

  ‘So, Tamsyn,’ he said, once he was inside the miniscule room and completely dominating it, having flicked a dismissive glance at the tiny bed and the view out over an alley which was lined with overflowing dustbins. ‘Are you going to explain why you decided to run off without telling me?’

  Her heart was beating very fast as she sucked in a deep breath. No, she wasn’t. Because she didn’t owe him anything. Nothing.

  But the defensiveness which had always been second nature to her wasn’t coming as easily as usual and she wondered how convincing her nonchalant shrug was. ‘We both knew it had to end sometime,’ she said carelessly. ‘I just made an executive decision to end it early. It was a fake marriage, Xan. It was conceived to get you out of a tight spot and as far as I’m concerned, I’ve performed my part of the bargain.’

  ‘Why, Tamsyn?’ he said simply.

  Once again, she shrugged, even though when he said her name like that it made her want to cry. ‘I heard... I heard you talking with your father.’

  His eyes narrowed in comprehension and then he nodded. ‘Did you now? So you will have heard me defending you.’

  ‘Yes, I heard you. Thanks.’

  He looked at her. ‘And that’s it?’

  She nodded. ‘Yep, that’s it. There’s nothing more to say. I don’t even know why you’re here.’

  ‘Because I don’t understand. And I need to understand.’

  She shook her head so that her unruly curls flew all around her shoulders and impatiently she pushed them away. ‘No,’ she negated heatedly. ‘You don’t need to understand, Xan. You want to understand—and there’s a difference. I know you’re rich and powerful, but even you have got to realise that you can’t always get what you want. So will you please go?’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, Tamsyn.’

  ‘And? What if there is? You’re not privy to my innermost thoughts—even if we were a real married couple, which we’re not! You have no right to expect explanations.’

  ‘I disagree,’ he said coolly. ‘I think I do, and I’m not going anywhere until you start talking to me. I want the truth, Tamsyn. I think you owe me that, at least.’

  Did she? Did she owe him anything? For the sexual awakening, or for making her realise that she was as capable of love as anyone else? As she stared into his resolute face, Tamsyn recognised she was in real danger here. She wanted her heart to stop hurting but the only way that was going to happen was if Xan went away and left her alone, and he wasn’t showing any sign of doing that. She could see the look of determination on his face and realised he meant it when he’d said he wouldn’t
be satisfied with anything but the truth.

  So should she tell him and witness his disgust when he realised what kind of person he’d really married? Watch his gorgeous face freeze with fastidious horror when he learned the truth about her gene pool? And that might that be the best outcome of all, because then he really would say goodbye and she could begin the long process of getting over him. If she pushed him away first—at least he wouldn’t be able to turn round and do it to her. She sucked in an unsteady breath. ‘You described me as honest and decent and true,’ she said quietly. ‘But I’m not. At least, I’m not honest.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Don’t let your voice shake. And, above all, don’t cry.

  ‘You only know half the truth. That my mother was a groupie—’

  ‘Yes, yes. That’s old news,’ he said impatiently.

  She shook her head, but her determination not to cry was failing her. She felt her eyes brimming with tears and saw Xan flinch, as if he found such a spectacle distasteful. He probably did. He didn’t like emotion. It was messy and he wasn’t used to it. Well, neither was she if it came to that, but for once in her life Tamsyn was finding it impossible to hold back the shuddering sob which seemed to erupt from the very bottom of her lungs.

  ‘Well, here’s some hot-off-the-press news!’ she snarled. ‘My father was a rock star. A very famous rock star. His name was Jonny Trafford.’

  ‘Jonny Trafford? Wow.’ He frowned. ‘But he—’

  ‘I’m not interested in how many albums you had of his. You want to know what happened?’ she rushed on, waving her hand impatiently to silence him in her determination to tell him the facts. The unvarnished facts—not the version which everyone knew. It was the only thing she had left of Jonny Trafford—her few brief and bitter memories. ‘He had a one-night stand with my mother.’ Her voice shook with something like shame. ‘According to his official biography, he had similar nights with lots of women. Sometimes with more than one at the same time...’