The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife. Annie West
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harden impatiently. There was no way she’d ever convince him. He was determined to believe she’d somehow deliberately trapped him into marriage.
If the idea weren’t so fantastic, and so appalling, she’d be laughing her head off. Her snaring some uppity billionaire with an ego the size of South America! As if!
‘Why didn’t you say something at the time?’
‘What?’ He shook his head. ‘You wished me to apologise within earshot of the celebrant and the prison guards that our hasty plans had changed? That we’d have to make do with a real wedding and worry about dissolving the marriage later? You really think they’d have let us proceed?’ His dark brows arched in mock-surprise.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the spinning sensation that accelerated when she met his glare. If she could just sit here alone. Get her breath. In time she’d work something out. She was a survivor. She had years of practice keeping herself alive. A furious Greek tycoon with an ego problem and a marriage certificate were nothing after what she’d been through. Right?
Tessa clenched her fists, trying to dredge up some energy to deal with this situation. But she was exhausted.
‘Here, drink this!’
She opened her eyes to find him leaning over her, filling her vision with his wide shoulders and massive chest. His accusing eyes.
A skitter of sensation scudded down her spine. Trepidation? Anger?
Or something else?
‘No, thank you. I don’t need—’ she spluttered as he pressed a small glass against her lips and a rocket of aniseed fire blasted into her mouth and down her throat.
Her eyes streamed and she gagged.
‘And again.’ His fingers fastened around her chin, tilting it up towards the glass. His hand was warm and easily encompassed her jaw. Against the tempered strength of his hold she felt appallingly vulnerable. Her pulse raced beneath his touch.
She blinked and met his gaze. It was implacable, as relentless as the large hand holding her steady while he tipped another mouthful of liquid between her lips. Heat scorched all the way down to her belly and she shuddered.
‘No more.’ Her voice was a hoarse gasp. ‘What is that stuff?’
‘Ouzo. Fierce but effective. It’s an acquired taste.’
Tessa wondered who’d be desperate enough to acquire it. But he was right. She wasn’t numb any more. Delicious warmth spread through her veins and her stiff muscles relaxed. A strange lassitude invaded her body.
Abruptly he moved away and she almost sighed in relief. She couldn’t think when he loomed like that, vibrating dark impatience and animosity.
‘Here.’ His voice was rough as he pushed a plate into her hand. It was laden with food. She hadn’t even noticed anyone come to the door with a tray.
Could that be caviar on the tiny buttered squares of bread? And there were shrimps, savoury pastries, a whole range of delicacies. She swallowed as her salivary glands kicked into gear.
‘Eat.’ His tone was brusque as he turned away, his stiff back and rigid shoulders eloquent of dismissal.
‘I have things to do, but I’m sure you’ll make yourself at home in my absence.’ No mistaking his sarcasm. ‘Just don’t think about leaving this room. There will be a guard stationed right outside.’ His voice was silky with threat and she shivered, guessing he’d like nothing more than to ‘deal’ with her if she disobeyed him. His anger was so fiercely controlled she imagined he’d welcome an excuse to unleash it.
He didn’t even glance at her as he left. The door closed with a decisive click and Tessa slumped bonelessly into the sofa cushions.
Where did he think she’d go? Did he think she’d prowl through his home? All she wanted was to collect her pack with her passport and the last of her cash, and leave.
But what was the point? They needed to sort out a way to dissolve the marriage—she and Stavros Denakis.
Her mind shied away blindly from the word husband.
Tessa stared out of the window to the formal garden, the panorama of dark sea and cloudless sky. Even the air was balmy, scented with salt and the perfume of orange blossom.
It didn’t seem right that everything should look so peaceful when she was a mass of jangling nerves, raw from the corrosive memories of last night’s confrontation.
Where did that man get off, treating her as though everything were her fault? As if she’d connived to put in him an embarrassing predicament when all she’d wanted was to do the right thing?
She squeezed her eyes shut, appalled at her naïvety. At her spur-of-the-moment impulse, cashing in her airline ticket to Sydney and instead travelling to Greece. As if high-and-mighty Stavros Denakis would be interested in her gratitude after all this time.
She drew in a shuddering breath and blinked to clear her blurred vision, appalled at how near to crying she was. Last night, for the first time in years, hot tears had threatened to fall. Now they stung her eyes again. This weakness after all she’d been through was inexplicable.
Today her actions seemed nothing short of foolish. So what if it had seemed like a sign, like fate, when she’d opened that discarded magazine in the airport lounge and stared straight into the eyes of the man who’d haunted her for four years? The man who’d been at the centre of her secret hopes and dreams as she’d struggled daily against privation and poverty and the temptation to give up hope.
She was no innocent kid. You’d think years of hardship would have taught her there was no point in spinning foolish dreams. Except she hadn’t been able to deny those secret fantasies of him. Those unsettling night-time imaginings that had been her only solace. Dreams of strong arms, of a determined, powerful saviour coming to her aid. Dreams that had left her edgy and burning with a heat that belied the chilly mountain nights.
Tessa clenched her jaw and straightened. No way would the real Stavros Denakis protect her ever again. Not after his fury last night. He must be deeply in love with his fiancée, and enormously protective of her, to view Tessa as any sort of threat.
She breathed deeply, sloughing off a sneaking twinge of self-pity. That would get her nowhere.
She’d spent the morning in a deep, exhausted sleep, waking to a visit from a doctor, organised by her host. As if Stavros Denakis actually cared how she was! He was probably just checking she hadn’t brought some highly contagious disease with her from South America.
Her first instinct had been to refuse to be examined, but the doctor had been persuasive and Tessa just anxious enough about her strangely emotional state to comply. It was a relief to have her fears allayed. She was fine. All she needed was time to recover her strength.
But now it was late afternoon and she’d achieved nothing. She’d better contact the Australian embassy in Athens. They’d help her with the legalities and her return to Sydney. Not that there was anything waiting for her there. But she’d be home, where she’d longed to be for years. She’d have access to her bank account, could start rebuilding her life while the lawyers sorted out a divorce.
Tessa swung round from the window to look for a phone, wondering how difficult it would be to place a call to the embassy when she spoke no Greek.
She stopped dead when she met Stavros Denakis’ storm-grey eyes.
Her lungs seized up as she met his probing gaze, then she lifted her chin and drew in a slow breath, refusing to be daunted by the sight of him.
He stood just inside the room, his shoulders almost as broad as the closed door behind him. She blinked, realising he’d entered without a sound. A shiver of trepidation trickled down her backbone at the knowledge he must have the soundless tread of a predator. Like a jungle jaguar.
It made her feel vulnerable. But she shoved her hands into