The Greek's Convenient Wife. Melanie Milburne
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as her impossibly high heels allowed and stood uncertainly on the pavement, suddenly very conscious of the speculative looks she was receiving from the various passers-by.
‘There aren’t any nice restaurants along here,’ she said as he took her elbow to lead her down the street.
‘I know.’
She stumbled over a broken bit of pavement and his hold tightened.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘In here.’
He shepherded her into a seedy looking nightclub whose promotional signs promised scantily clad pole and lap dancers around the clock. Maddison felt the heat storm her cheeks as he propelled her to a table right up the front, her eyes instantly darting away from the buxom blonde cavorting with the slippery pole right near her chair.
‘What would you like to drink?’ Demetrius asked.
She swivelled in her seat to avoid the sight of a pair of breasts that without a doubt defied natural genetic construction.
‘Anything,’ she choked out.
The sleazy drinks waiter approached and, giving Maddison the once-over, asked for their order. She sat in a miserable silence as Demetrius asked for two champagne cocktails, her embarrassment increasing with every gyration of the dancer who seemed to be making a direct beeline for their table.
‘How was your day?’ Demetrius asked, leaning back in his chair.
‘Fine.’
The dancer had quite clearly decided the most attractive man in the house was Demetrius, and she sidled up to trail a hand through his dark curly hair, shooting Maddison a challenging glance from beneath her fluttering, seductive lashes.
A seed of anger sprouted in her chest at how he’d swiftly turned the tables on her.
‘This is a nice place,’ she said perversely, taking a generous slug of her drink while trying to ignore the dancer’s thigh, which was draped across Demetrius’s knee.
‘Yes, I thought you might feel right at home here,’ he said, reaching for his drink.
‘Do you come here often?’ she asked.
‘Not if I can help it.’ He gave the dancer a sexy smile.
She could feel her blood boiling at his deliberate attempt to embarrass her and took another deep swig of her drink.
‘Do they serve food here?’ she asked once the dancer had moved on. ‘I’m starving.’
‘Finish your drink and I’ll take you to Otto at Woolloomooloo Bay.’
It was impossible to think of a worse punishment, she decided, than to be taken to one of Sydney’s premier restaurants dressed like a streetwalker. She had to admit that she’d seriously underestimated Demetrius Papasakis and quite clearly, for this evening at least, he’d claimed not only the last word but the last laugh as well.
She got to her feet and followed him out of the nightclub with as much dignity as she could muster, but she knew the worst was probably still ahead of her.
It was.
The fine dining Otto offered in the refurbished wharf buildings at Woolloomooloo Bay was surpassed only by the elegant service and up-market clientele.
Maddison wished the floor would open up and let her sink to the harbour floor beneath, but it seemed Demetrius was after his pound of flesh and would stop at nothing to get it.
She was immediately conscious of the interested glances coming their way as they were led to their table, her embarrassment increasing a hundredfold to hear Demetrius addressed by name.
‘Mr Papasakis, would you like to see the wine list?’
Demetrius leaned back as his napkin was laid across his lap.
‘Don’t bother,’ he said. ‘Just bring us the best champagne of the house. We’re celebrating.’
The waiter had obviously been taught well for he didn’t even raise a brow. ‘Congratulations, Mr Papasakis,’ he said. ‘May I ask what the occasion is?’
‘I’m getting married,’ he said and smiled across at Maddison.
Maddison gave the waiter a wan smile and buried her head back in the menu.
‘My hearty congratulations, sir. I hope you’ll be very happy.’
Demetrius returned the waiter’s smile with a self-satisfied one of his own. ‘I intend to be very happy,’ he said. ‘Very happy indeed.’
Maddison waited until the waiter was out of earshot before she hissed across the table at him. ‘Are you crazy? That man thinks you’re marrying a prostitute! It will be all over the papers tomorrow.’
He leaned back in his chair and studied her in a leisurely manner. ‘Isn’t that what you intended?’
‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I wanted to teach you a lesson, that’s all.’
‘You’d do well to acknowledge before we go any further with our agreement that I don’t take very kindly to being taught lessons. I left the school room a long time ago.’
‘You still have a lot to learn,’ she bit out.
‘Please enlighten me on the things I’ve neglected to take on board.’
She hurled him a fiery look as she tore her bread into fragments. ‘For a start, I don’t like being told what to do as if I have no will of my own.’
‘Regrettable as that is, I’m the one who has just lost an expensive yacht. Your determination to keep your brother’s whereabouts a secret has backfired on you big time. You have only to reveal his details and I will call off the wedding immediately.’
Maddison stared at the crumbs of bread on her plate, her stomach caving in at the thought of revealing Kyle’s current address. Could she do it? Could she save her own skin by letting her brother face the music Demetrius Papasakis was intent on personally conducting?
She lifted her gaze to his, defiance in every feature of her expressive face. ‘I will never reveal my brother’s whereabouts, even if you try and force it out of me.’
He reached for his glass, his eyes as they speared hers dark and dangerous. ‘Don’t tempt me, Maddison.’
She lowered her gaze to the starched white tablecloth in front of her, her heart thumping erratically in her chest at his implied threat.
The waiter reappeared at their table with a bottle of French champagne, expertly pouring it into the two glasses before leaving them once more to continue their perusal of the extensive menu.
Demetrius picked up his champagne flute and held it up in a toast. ‘Here’s to us.’ His near black eyes glinted with some indefinable quality that made her stomach tighten another sharp little notch.
She picked up her own glass and chinked it against his. ‘Here’s to my big fat Greek wedding,’ she quipped before drinking deeply.
A flicker of amusement passed over his face as he watched her silently. He hadn’t thought he would enjoy her company as much as he had; she had a sharp wit and her flashing sapphire-blue eyes were bright with intelligence. He wondered how far she would go before she cracked under the pressure of keeping her brother’s whereabouts secret. He hadn’t really thought she’d agree to his proposal; in fact he still expected her to pull the plug at the last minute. It amused him to see her squirm, torn between her loyalty towards Kyle and her own freedom, but business was business and he could hardly overlook one point five million dollars.
And, besides, he had to do something about the fuss the press was making. The constant intrusion into his personal affairs was becoming increasingly tiresome; hardly a day passed without his picture appearing somewhere with the usual scathing paragraph accompanying it. It was starting to affect his