The Fallen Greek BrideAt the Greek Boss's Bidding

by Jane Porter

  Morgan flinched at Bronwyn’s words. “Is that true? Has Dunamas pulled all its surveillance and protection from its other clients?”

  “No,” Drakon said flatly. “It’s not true. While Dunamas has made your father a priority, it continues its surveillance and protective services for each ship, and every customer, it’s been hired to protect.”

  “But at tremendous personal expense,” Bronwyn retorted.

  “That’s none of your business,” he answered, giving her a look that would have crushed Morgan, but Bronwyn wasn’t crushed.

  “Funny how different you are when she’s around.” Bronwyn’s blue gaze met his and held.

  Drakon’s jaw thickened. “I’m exactly the same.”

  “No. You’re not. Normally Drakon Xanthis rules his shipping empire with a cool head, a critical eye and shrewd sense…always fiscally conservative, and cautious when it comes to expenses and investments.” Bronwyn’s lips pursed. “But the moment Morgan Copeland enters the picture, smart, insightful, strategic Drakon Xanthis loses his head. Suddenly money is no object, and common sense is thrown out the window—”

  “Bronwyn,” he growled.

  The Australian jerked her chin up, her expression a curious mixture of anger and pain. “You’re just a fool for love, aren’t you?”

  Drakon looked away, his jaw tight, his amber gaze strangely bleak. Morgan glanced from Drakon to Bronwyn and back again, feeling the tension humming in the room, but this wasn’t the sparky, sexy kind of tension that zinged between her and Drakon, but something altogether different. This tension was dark and heavy and overwhelming….

  It felt like death…loss…

  Why? What had happened between them? And what bound Drakon to Bronwyn, a woman Morgan disliked so very intensely.

  But then on her own accord, Bronwyn walked out, pausing in the doorway to look at Drakon. “Don’t be putty in her hands,” she said. “You know what happens to putty.”

  The pressure in Morgan’s chest should have eased after Bronwyn left. There should have been a subtle shift in mood, an easing of the tension, some kind of relief.

  But Morgan felt no relief, and from Drakon’s taut features, she knew there would be no relief.

  Whatever it was that Bronwyn had just said to Drakon—and Morgan had heard her, but hadn’t understood the significance, only felt the biting sarcasm—it’d hit the mark. Drakon had paled and was now ashen, his strong jaw clenched so tightly the skin along the bone had gone white.

  “What just happened?” Morgan asked, her voice cracking.

  Drakon didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at her.

  She flushed as silence stretched and it became evident that he wasn’t going to answer her, either.

  “What was she saying, Drakon?” Morgan whispered, hating the way shame crept through her, shame and fear and that terrible green-eyed monster called jealousy, because she was jealous of Bronwyn, jealous that Bronwyn could have such a powerful effect on Drakon.

  But once again Morgan’s question was met with stony silence. And the silence hurt. Not merely because he wasn’t talking to her, but because Bronwyn had done this to him—to them—again.

  Again.

  Morgan’s hands fisted at her sides. What was Bronwyn’s power? Because she certainly had something…some strange and rather frightening influence over Drakon….

  Something had to have happened between Drakon and Bronwyn. Something big…

  Something private and powerful…

  Morgan’s head pounded as she left the living room. She needed space and quiet, and headed downstairs to the sunroom, and then outside to the broad terrace beyond. But the terrace still felt too confining and Morgan kept walking, down more stairs, to the lower garden, through manicured boxwood and fanciful hedges to the old rose garden and the herb garden and then to the miniature orchard with its peekaboo views of the sea.

  She walked the narrow stone path through the orchard before reaching the twisting path that followed the cliff, the path dotted with marble benches. Morgan finally sat down in one of these cool marble benches facing the sea, and drew a slow breath, trying to process everything, from her father’s disappearance, to Drakon and Bronwyn’s peculiar relationship, to her own relationship with Drakon. There was a lot to sort through.

  She sat on the bench, just breathing in the heady, fragrant scent of wisteria and the blossoms from the citrus trees in the small orchard, when she heard someone talking.

  It was Rowan approaching on the path, talking on the phone, speaking English to someone, his tone clipped, no-nonsense, and his low brusque voice was such a contrast to his appearance. He looked like sex, but talked like a soldier. And suddenly the warrior king from the film Spartacus came to mind.

  Rowan spotted her and ended his call.

  “Any news about my father?” she asked him as he stopped before her bench.

  “Not yet. But don’t panic.”

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “Good girl.”

  The sun had dropped significantly and the colors in the sky were deepening, the light blue turning to rose gold.

  “It’s going to be another beautiful sunset,” she said. “I love the sky here, the red and orange sunsets.”

  “You do know its pollution, ash and smoke just scattering away the shorter-wavelength part of the light spectrum.”

  Morgan made a face. “That’s so not romantic.”

  He shrugged. “As Logan will tell you, I’m not a romantic guy.”

  Shocked, Morgan turned all the way to look at him. “You know my sister?”

  “Drakon didn’t tell you?”

  “No.”

  “Thought he had.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “I live in L.A. Malibu.”

  Which made sense as Logan lived in Los Angeles, too. “How well do you know her?”

  He hesitated, just a fraction too long, and Morgan realized that he knew her, knew her, as in the Biblical knowing. “You guys…dated?”

  “Not dated, plural. One date. Met at a celebrity fund-raiser.”

  “What fund-raiser?” she asked, finding it impossible to imagine Rowan Argyros at a charity event.

  “It’s inconsequential.”

  But from his tone, she knew it wasn’t, and Morgan fought the sudden urge to smile. There was much more to the Rowan-Logan story than what he was telling her, and Morgan eyed him with new interest, as well as appreciation, because Logan might be her fraternal twin, but Logan and Morgan were polar opposites. Morgan was quieter and shyer, and Logan was extremely confident and extroverted, as well as assertive, especially when it came to men. Morgan had married Drakon, her first love, while Logan didn’t believe in love.

  “How did you two get along?” she asked now, lips still twitching, amused by the idea of Logan and Rowan together. They were both so strong—it would have been an interesting date…an explosive date.

  “Fine.”

  “I doubt that.”

  Rowan looked at her from beneath a cocked brow, smiling, clearly amused. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I know Logan. She’s my sister. And I’ve met you.”

  “Whatever happened—or didn’t happen—is between your sister and me, but I will say she talked about you that night we were together. Told me…things…about you, and your past, not knowing I was connected to Drakon.”

  “Did you tell her you knew Drakon?”

  “No.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  He stared down at her, expression troubled. He looked as if he wanted to say something but wasn’t going to.

  Morgan sighed. “What is it? What’s on your mind?”

  “Have you told Drakon about the year following your separation? Does he know what happened?”

  Morgan eyed him warily. “About what?”

  “About you being…ill.”

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it, shaking her head instead.

  “Maybe you should. Mayb
e it’s time.”

  Morgan turned back to the sea, where the horizon was now a dramatic parfait of pink and orange and red, with streaks of luscious violet. So beautiful it couldn’t be real. “I don’t think it’d change anything…if he knew.”

  “I think it would change a great deal. Maybe not for you, but for him.”

  She shot Rowan a cynical glance, feeling impossibly raw. “How so?”

  “You weren’t the only one who had a hard year after you left. Drakon’s world fell apart, too.”

  * * *

  Drakon was in his room, just stepping out of the shower when he heard a knock at his door. He dried off quickly, wrapped the towel around his hips and headed to the bedroom door. Opening it, he discovered Morgan in the hall.

  “You okay?” she asked, looking up at him, a shadow of concern in her eyes.

  He nodded. “I was just going to dress and come find you.”

  “Do you mind if I come in?”

  He opened the door wider, and then once she was inside, he closed the door behind him.

  “You look nice,” she said, her voice low and husky.

  “Almost naked?”

  Color swept her cheeks. “I always liked you naked. You have an amazing body.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her. “I can’t believe you came here to compliment my body.”

  “No…no. But it kind of…relates…to what I was going to say.”

  He rocked back on his hips, trying not to feel anything, even though he was already feeling too much of everything. But wasn’t that always the way it was when it came to Morgan? He felt so much. He loved her so much.

  “Can I kiss you?” she blurted breathlessly.

  He frowned, caught off guard.

  “Just a kiss, for courage,” she said, clasping her hands, nervously. “Because I don’t know how to tell you this, and I’m not sure what you’ll say, but I probably should tell you. ’Cause I don’t think anyone did tell you—”

  He drew her to him, then, silenced her stream of words with a kiss. His kiss was fierce, and she kissed him back with desperation, with the heat and hunger that had always been there between them.

  He let the kiss go on, too, drawing her close to his body, cupping the back of her head with one hand while the other slid to the small of her back and urged her even closer to his hips. Just like that he was hard and hot and eager to be inside her body, wanting to fill her, needing to lose himself in her, needing to silence the voices in his head…voices of guilt and anger, failure and shame….

  But then Morgan ended the kiss and lifting her head she looked up into his eyes, her blue eyes wet, her black lashes matted. “I’m not right in the head.” Her voice quavered. She tried to smile even as tears shimmered in her eyes. “I’m crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy.”

  She nodded, and her lower lip quivered. “That’s why you couldn’t find me after I left you. I had a nervous breakdown. My family had me hospitalized.”

  Drakon flinched and stepped backward. “Why are you saying this?”

  “It’s what happened. I left you and I fell apart. I couldn’t stop crying, and I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t sleep, and everybody said it was this or that, but I just missed you. I wanted you.”

  “So why didn’t you come back?”

  “They wouldn’t let me.”

  Drakon’s gut churned, and his hands clenched involuntarily at his side. “Who wouldn’t let you?”

  “The doctors. The hospital. My family. They made me stay there at McLean. It’s a…mental…hospital.”

  “I know what McLean is.” Drakon looked at her in barely masked horror. “I don’t understand, Morgan. You were there…why?”

  “Because I was crazy.”

  “You weren’t crazy!”

  “They said I was.” She walked away from him, moving around his room, which had been their room on their honeymoon. She touched an end table, and the foot of the bed, and then the chaise in the corner before she turned to look at him. “And I did feel crazy…but I kept thinking if I could just get to you, I’d feel better.”

  “So why didn’t you come home to me?”

  “I couldn’t.” She struggled to smile, but failed. “I couldn’t get to you, couldn’t call you or write to you. They wouldn’t let me do anything until I calmed down and did all the therapy and the counseling sessions—”

  “What do you mean, they wouldn’t let you out? Didn’t you check yourself in?”

  She shook her head, and sat down on the chaise, smoothing her skirt over her knees. “No. My parents did. My mother did. My dad approved, but it was Mother who insisted. She said you would never want me back the way I was.” Morgan looked up at him, eyes bright, above the pallor of her cheeks. “So I went through the treatment, but it didn’t help. It didn’t work. They wanted me to say I could live without you, and I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Her slim shoulders lifted and fell. “Because I couldn’t.”

  “So why did you leave me in the first place?”

  “I started falling apart in Ekali. I was fine when we first got there, but after the first month, something happened to me. I began to cry when you were at work and I tried to hide it from you when you came home, but you must have known, because you changed, too. You became colder and distant, and maybe it wasn’t you…maybe it was all me…because I needed too much from you, and God knows, my needs weren’t healthy—”

  “And who told you that you needs weren’t healthy?” he growled, trying desperately hard to hang on to his temper. “Your parents?”

  “And the doctors. And the therapists.”

  “Christ,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “That’s not true, you know,” he said, looking at her. “You were young and isolated and lonely and I wasn’t there for you. I know that now. I know I wasn’t fair to you. I worked ridiculous hours, and expected you to be able to entertain yourself, and I owe you an apology. Actually, I owe you many, many apologies.”

  She managed a small, tight smile. “It’s hard to remember…hard to go back…because what we had was good, so good, and then it all became so bad….” She sighed and rubbed her head. “I wish we could go back, and do it all again, and make different decisions this time.”

  “There’s no going back, though, only going forward.”

  Morgan nodded. “I know, and I’m trying. And seeing Pompeii with you today made me realize that we have to go forward. We have to have hope and courage and build new lives.”

  He came to her, crouched before her, his hands on either side of her knees, his gaze searching hers. “I know I failed you—”

  “No more than I failed you, Drakon.”

  “But you didn’t fail me. You were perfect…you were warm and real and hopeful and sensitive.”

  “So why did you pull away? Why shut me out…because it felt like you did—”

  “I did. I definitely shut you out, and you weren’t imagining that I pulled away, because I did that, too.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated a moment and then drew a breath. “Because I loved you so much, and yet I was overwhelmed by feelings of inadequacy…I couldn’t make you happy, I couldn’t meet your needs, I couldn’t be who or what you wanted, so I…pushed you away.”

  Her eyes searched his. “It wasn’t my imagination?”

  “No.”

  “I wasn’t crazy when I left you then?”

  “No.”

  She made a soft, hoarse sound. “So I just went crazy when I left you.”

  “You were never crazy, Morgan.”

  She smiled, sadly. “But I was. Leaving you tore me apart. I felt my heart break when I left you. Everyone kept telling me I was developing this disorder or that disorder but they didn’t understand…I just needed you. I just wanted you. And they wouldn’t let me have you.” Tears filled her eyes. “No one believed that I could love you that deeply…but why was it wrong to love you so
much? Why did it make me bad…and mad…to miss you that much?”

  “They were wrong, Morgan. And I was wrong. And I know you weren’t insane, because I felt the same way, too. And I couldn’t get to you, either. I couldn’t find you, and all I wanted was to find you and apologize, and fix things, and change things, so that we could be happy. I knew we could be happy. I just needed you home.”

  She reached up to knock away a tear before it could fall. “But I didn’t come back.”

  “No. But I wouldn’t give up on you, or us. I still can’t give up on us.” He reached out to wipe her cheek dry with his thumb. “Tell me, my love, that I haven’t waited in vain. Tell me there’s a place in your life for me. Give me hope, Morgan.”

  She just looked at him, deep into his eyes, for a long moment before leaning forward and kissing him. “Yes,” she whispered against his mouth. “Yes, there’s a place in my life for you. There will always be a place in my life for you. I need you, Drakon. Can’t live without you, Drakon.”

  His mouth covered hers, and he kissed her deeply, but it wasn’t enough for her. Morgan needed more, craved more, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and opened her knees so he could move between them, his big body pressed against hers. Still kissing her, he pressed her back onto the chaise, his towel falling off as he stretched out over her, his hand sliding up her rib cage to cup her breast.

  Morgan hissed a breath as his fingers rubbed her nipple, making the sensitive peak pucker and tighten. His other hand was moving down her torso, tugging up the hem of her dress, finding her bare inner thigh, his touch sending lightning forks of sensation zinging through her body, making her body heat and her core melt. She wanted him, wanted him so much, and she sucked on his tongue, desperate for him to strip her and feel his warm, bare skin on hers.

  And then his phone rang on the bedside table, chiming with a unique ringtone that Morgan had never heard before.

  He lifted his head, listened, frowning. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  He shook his head and rolled away from her, leaving the chaise to pick up his phone from the table near the bed. “Damn,” he muttered, reading the message. “She needs to talk to me before she returns to Athens.”