by Kate Hewitt
And so what if she married a man she barely knew? In her life, romantic love had been at best a joke, at worst a lie. She’d seen both her parents fall in and out of it with devastating ease, and her own brush with it had left her feeling more jaded than ever, still cringing in shame.
She didn’t want that kind of relationship. She wouldn’t take that kind of risk. At least Alex was honest about his feelings. That was more than she could say for Philippe.
So why not marry someone for the practical reasons? Alex’s mention of an heir had sent a surprising ache of longing through her. A child of her own...someone to love, who couldn’t be taken away from her. Family. She hadn’t realised she was maternal in that way until Alex had spoken of it, but now, her knees tucked to her chest, she could almost imagine a baby nestled in her arms, the kiss she’d drop on its soft forehead. She’d be such a better mother than her own.
A sound from the house had Milly stilling, and then pressing against the back of the chaise, trying to make herself invisible. From the corner of her eye she saw Alex Santos make his way to the pool; he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and moonlight bathed the sculpted muscles of his chest in lambent silver, making her realise just how impressive they were.
Milly’s gaze rose from his chest to his face and as if he could sense, not just her presence, but her stare, he angled his head away from her, his body going still.
‘Couldn’t sleep?’ His voice was husky, somehow sensual, winding around her in the sultry darkness. Milly’s arms clenched around her knees.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘You left the doors open, and I have good eyesight.’ He moved closer to her chaise, the fabric of his pyjama bottoms whispering together as he moved, the muscles of his chest rippling as the moonlight caught them. When he was only a few feet away, his body still swathed in darkness and his face angled away, he spoke again. ‘So why can’t you sleep, Milly?’ He lingered on her name. ‘Were you thinking about my offer?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, because it seemed obvious. ‘How could I not be thinking about it? It’s the only marriage proposal I’ve ever received.’
‘I’m sorry it wasn’t more romantic,’ he returned dryly. ‘But I’m sure there will be others...that is, if you don’t reconsider...?’ He trailed off deliberately, and Milly swallowed hard.
‘I shouldn’t reconsider...’
‘But you are.’
He sounded so certain, and why wouldn’t he be? A handsome, powerful, wealthy man. And she was a plain little nobody. He’d probably expected her to jump at the chance. ‘It’s a lot of money,’ Milly said on a shuddery sigh. ‘And it would make a difference to me...and to someone I love.’
‘Ah. Perhaps the most powerful reason of all.’ Alex settled on the chaise opposite her, his face turned away, his gaze on the pool. ‘And who is this person you love?’
‘My sister. Well, stepsister, but she’s as good as a sister to me. Better. The most important person in the world, the only person...’ Milly’s throat closed up at the thought of Anna and she blinked hard. ‘I’d do anything for her.’
‘Except marry me?’
‘That’s why I’m thinking about it.’
‘It wouldn’t have to be such torture, you know,’ Alex said after a moment. ‘I wouldn’t bother you any more than I had to.’
Bother her? Was that really how he saw their potential relationship? And yet Milly felt reassured that her life wouldn’t have to change too much.
‘Most people want more from their marriage than that,’ she said after a moment, and Alex arched an eyebrow.
‘Most people,’ he acknowledged, ‘but not you, I think.’ He turned so he could look her in the eye, although the darkness still hid much of his face. ‘Am I wrong?’
Milly swallowed again, her throat dry as she struggled for words. ‘I haven’t thought about it all that much,’ she hedged. ‘I haven’t...’ She trailed off, her gaze on the silvery surface of the pool. ‘I haven’t had much experience,’ she stated at last, determined to be frank. ‘Of romance or romantic love. That kind of thing. And the experience I’ve had has put me off.’
‘So here is the ideal solution.’
‘Why don’t you want romance or love in a marriage?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘I assume that’s the reason for your business proposal?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t see the point of it.’
‘Of romance?’
‘Or of love.’ He paused. ‘That kind of love. And neither, I think, do you.’
It was unsettling, how he seemed to reach right into her mind and pluck out her thoughts. What could he see in her face, even out here in the dark? What was she revealing without realising?
‘I’ve seen it abused,’ she answered at last, her tone careful. ‘And I suppose I don’t trust it very much. I’m not willing to take that kind of risk.’
‘Good. Then I think we’d be an excellent match.’
She shook her head, an instinctive movement. ‘It’s not that simple...’
‘Of course not. We can iron out the details as soon as you’ve agreed. I’m a reasonable man, Milly.’
The way he said her name made her shiver, although perhaps it was simply the cooling night air. ‘None of this seems particularly reasonable, you know. We’re talking about marriage. Having a child together...’
‘It’s eminently reasonable. Love is the outrageous thing, the ridiculous emotion that’s meant to drive all our reason and ambition when it’s so flimsy and ephemeral. The whole concept is absurd, insanity. Why would you trust your life to a fleeting feeling?’
‘Yet people do.’
‘But you’re smarter than that, aren’t you? As am I.’
She almost laughed at his arrogance, except she knew he was right. She was smarter than that. She’d wised up. ‘See?’ He smiled at her, the corner of his mouth curving upwards, his eyes—at least the one she could see—gleaming. ‘We’re a perfect match.’
‘I haven’t even seen your face,’ Milly blurted, and although he didn’t move, it felt as if he had. As if he’d gone even more still than he already was, every muscle taut and waiting, put on alert. ‘Properly, I mean,’ Milly clarified. ‘We’ve only spoken in the dark. It’s a bit...odd, you know. Clearly you’re a private man, but...’ Shouldn’t she at least see the man she might marry?
‘Yes, I am.’ Alex was silent for a few seconds, seeming to draw into himself. ‘Well, there is a reason for the dark.’
Milly gazed at him in confusion, squinting to make out his expression but it remained shadowed, unfathomable. ‘Is there?’
‘Yes, there is, but you might as well know it now. See what you might be agreeing to.’ He walked quickly back to the French windows and in one quick movement he flicked on the outdoor lights. The terrace was bathed in a bright electric glow, and Milly blinked in the brilliance. Then Alex turned to face her, and a gasp rushed from her throat.
His face...
One side of his mouth quirked upwards. ‘Perhaps now you understand a bit more of my reasoning for a convenient marriage?’
Milly sat transfixed, unsure whether to look away or keep staring. Would that be insulting? Unkind? In any case, she found she couldn’t move her gaze. What had happened to him, since the photos she’d seen on the Internet had been taken?
‘It’s a shock, I know.’ Alex spoke dispassionately, as if he didn’t much care that half his face was ravaged in pink and white scar tissue, while the other half was entirely perfect, the coldly handsome man she recognised from his photos, made even more so by the damage on the other side. It was like looking in a cracked mirror, half crystal clear, half warped and broken.
‘How...?’
‘Fire.’ The single word was clipped, dismissive. Milly knew instinctively he wouldn’t say more, and she wouldn’t ask. ‘It puts off many a prosp
ective bride, or so I imagine. I haven’t deigned to find out. Perhaps it puts you off.’
‘Your scars would have nothing to do with whether I agreed or not,’ Milly said when she’d found her voice, but she feared she didn’t sound convincing. It was just she was so shocked. Even with his insistence on privacy, the rooms shrouded in darkness, she hadn’t suspected. Never guessed.
There hadn’t been a whisper about it online, or even in the village, where most people knew him, or at least of him. Yiannis and Marina hadn’t said a word.
‘Very well, then.’ Alex straightened where he stood, levelling her with a look. ‘Will you marry me?’
* * *
Alex knew he should have given her time to adjust to the reality of his scars, but he felt too raw. He hated being looked at, despised the flicker of pity that inevitably crossed every person’s face when they saw him in the light. So he made sure very few people did.
In the nearly two years since the fire, only a few trusted business advisors and staff had been able to look him in the eye. He didn’t give anyone else the chance, not if he could help it. He entered his office from a private entrance, and, while there, he rarely left. Everything he could do from his office by phone or email, he did, and when he wasn’t doing business he was keeping to himself, either in Athens or here, travelling by private jet or yacht to avoid the inevitable whispers and stares.
He had a few trusted staff who had seen his face and wouldn’t talk, but he’d never had many friends and so he had even fewer now. As for lovers? What a joke. All in all, it was a lonely life, but it was the only one he could bear to live.
And yet he’d known this moment would come, when the woman who would be his wife would look on his face and shudder. He hated it with an intensity that made his fists clench before he made the choice, very deliberately, to flatten them out. He would not be that kind of man. Not like his father. It was a choice he made every day, deliberately, calmly, because he had to.
‘I... I have to think,’ Milly stammered, her gaze still tellingly transfixed by the scars that crisscrossed his entire right cheek, starting in his hairline and coming down to the corner of his mouth and quirking his lip upwards in a horrible half-smile he couldn’t ever change. There were other scars too, ones she might not have noticed yet, cording the side of his neck and making a patchwork of white lines across his shoulder. ‘It’s such a big step...’
‘Well, don’t think too long,’ Alex returned in a deliberate drawl, making sure to keep her gaze even though everything in him demanded he turn away. Hide. ‘Because if you refuse, I’ll have to ask someone else, and as quickly as possible.’
‘Do you have an alternative?’ She sounded more curious than offended—or relieved.
He didn’t, not yet, but he just shrugged. ‘I have some possibilities.’ None of the women of his acquaintance would agree to marry him looking like this, and he wouldn’t want them anyway. Shallow, vapid creatures, caring only for appearances and wealth, and he had only one of those attributes.
No, he realised he wanted her, because she seemed sensible and trustworthy, and he had a feeling they could get along tolerably well, which was all he could ask for. All he would ever let himself want.
‘Why me, though?’ Milly pressed.
Looking at her, Alex knew he was fooling himself if he thought he wanted her just for those modest qualities. No, there was more to it than that. He wanted her, wanted her in the way a man wanted a woman. Desire was dangerous and foolish, and it made him feel exposed in a way he hated.
‘You’re here. You’re suitable. You need the money.’ He bit each word off and spat it out. She flinched a little, but then she nodded.
‘At least you’re honest. I...appreciate that.’ She sighed, turning away from him to stare out at the water. ‘I love it here,’ she said softly, and he tensed.
‘That’s a good beginning.’
‘Is it? It doesn’t seem nearly enough.’
‘But if you don’t want love in your marriage, why not this?’
‘I feel as if I’m signing my life away.’
‘You’d have every freedom.’
‘Except the freedom to marry someone else.’
‘True.’ He paused. ‘I would not countenance divorce. A child needs both parents.’
‘Nor would I,’ Milly returned sharply, with more force than even his tone had possessed. ‘My parents are on their third and fourth marriages. I would never get divorced.’
Alex inclined his head. ‘Yet another point upon which we agree.’
‘I still don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re kind, or trustworthy, or good.’ Her voice throbbed with emotion. ‘Shouldn’t I know those things?’
Yes, of course she should, and he knew he couldn’t promise her any of it. He wasn’t kind. He hadn’t been trustworthy. As for good... ‘I suppose you’ll have to take my word for it.’
‘And if we marry, and I discover your word is worthless? You...mistreat me...or lock me away...’
‘Mistreat you?’ He couldn’t keep the offence from his tone, or a deep-seated conviction from shuddering through him. It was as if she were looking into his soul, and yet not seeing anything at all. ‘I would never hurt a woman.’ He’d never meant anything more, and yet she still seemed uncertain as she turned back to face him.
‘I don’t want to think you could do something like that, of course, but I don’t know you, Alex. I don’t know you at all.’
‘Then ask me,’ he bit out. ‘Ask me whatever you want.’ He stood there, bracing himself for whatever questions she fired at him, but she remained silent, gazing at him in helpless frustration.
‘You make it sound like a job interview.’
‘Of a sort.’
Another sigh and she nibbled her lip as she started to shake her head. He could feel her slipping away from him, like an ebbing tide. The scars had tilted the odds against him. Of course they had.
‘I just don’t think I can do this,’ she said softly, her gaze sliding away from his. Her shoulders hunched; she looked guilty. ‘I watched my mother marry for money, time and time again, and the results were disastrous...for her as well as for me and my sister. I can’t be like her in that way. I won’t let myself.’ She paused, her shoulders hunched, her gaze averted as if she couldn’t bear to look him in the face. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Really, there is no need to apologise,’ Alex returned stiffly. He wasn’t going to argue with her; he certainly wasn’t going to beg. ‘Consider the matter closed,’ he said, and then he turned and walked back inside the villa, staring blindly ahead all the while.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN MILLY AWOKE the next morning, she knew Alex had gone. It was only a little past six, lemony sunshine banishing the last of the pearly grey light of dawn, but she knew all the same. She could almost hear the echo of the whirr of the helicopter blades signifying his departure; perhaps that was what had woken her up.
Quietly she slid out of bed and went to the window, opening the shutters fully to take in the breathtaking view of sun and sand, sea and sky. The blue-green waters of the Aegean Sea shimmered under the azure perfection of another summer’s day. Inside Milly felt strangely hollow.
As soon as Alex had walked back into the villa last night, his body and gait both stiff with dignity and affront, Milly had questioned her decision—and not just because of the money. Yes, she could use the money, especially for Anna’s sake, but what if this was the only marriage proposal she ever received? More importantly, what if it was the best?
As Alex had sussed out, she was cynical and wary of such fanciful feelings as love and romance. If her parents hadn’t put her off, her dalliance with Philippe certainly had.
Even now she could remember the mocking twist of his lips as he’d gazed at her. ‘Do you honestly think I’d fall for a little mouse like you?’
No, sh
e wasn’t going to go down that route again. So why not this? She wouldn’t get duped or hurt, and she’d have financial stability, companionship of a sort, and even a child. After the financial and emotional turbulence of her entire childhood, who was she to scoff at those things?
Standing at the window, letting the sunlight stream over her, she wondered why she’d refused—even as she acknowledged why. Because her mother had married for money rather than love, and she never, ever wanted to be like her mother.
But this would be different, a little voice inside her persisted.
Would it? Another insidious voice mocked back. Would it really?
Turning away from the window, Milly went to shower and dress. She had a full day of housework ahead of her, and she needed to stop thinking for a little while. Blot out all the what-ifs and just be. Still, she wondered when Alex would return...and what it would be like when he did.
The house felt emptier than usual as she went about her work, sweeping and mopping and dusting. She put off doing the inevitable—cleaning Alex’s bedroom, stripping the bed and washing his sheets. It had felt like any other room just days before, but now it was different. Perhaps she was.
After a solitary lunch reading at the kitchen table, she decided to put it off no longer, and in truth she was curious. Upstairs, down a separate corridor that held only his master suite and two guest bedrooms, she tiptoed towards his door, holding her breath, half expecting someone to pop out, something to happen. Of course, nothing did.
Milly pushed open his bedroom door and then stepped into the sparsely furnished room—a king-sized bed on a low dais with rumpled sheets and duvet, the indentation where his head had lain still visible on his pillow. There were no ornaments or knick-knacks, no photos or mementoes. There never had been, in her six months there.
The room was luxurious and as impersonal as could be, like something found in a high-end hotel. Milly began to strip the bed, her methodical movements belying the sudden thud of her heart, her dry mouth. Why was she being affected this way?
