The Secret Wife. LYNNE GRAHAM
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for the money to come pouring in. But, sadly for you, your sordid little game-plan backfired... Anton did not leave you anything in his will!’
Rosie’s brow furrowed as she struggled to comprehend what he was telling her. ‘But you said—’
‘Anton left his estate to me just as he had done in his original will. But in the new version he added a condition to that inheritance. I still inherit... but only if I marry you!’
‘M-marry me?’ Her tongue felt too big for her dry mouth and her green eyes were huge with disbelief. ‘You... marry... me?’
‘Clearly Anton believed that you were pregnant!’ Constantine loosed a harsh, embittered laugh as he swung away from her, broad shoulders fiercely taut beneath the fine fabric of his jacket. ‘Anton panicked and scribbled out that new will without any reasoned forethought whatsoever. Why did he do that? Because if anything happened to him he wanted his fictional child to be protected and legitimised and he could not face the idea of Thespina finding out the truth.’
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Rosie protested in a shaken rush. ‘My relationship with Anton was strictly platonic. I didn’t tell him any lies. I—’
‘What sort of a fool do you take me for?’ Constantine interrupted with raw contempt. ‘You were having an affair. He was living with you in that house and he was besotted with you!’
Her knees giving way, Rosie sank slowly down on the weathered bench at the edge of the overgrown lawn. Even presented with Constantine’s twisted interpretation of the facts, she now saw the complete picture and she finally understood. Anton, how could you do this to me? she almost screamed, and inside herself she cringed. Unable to freely and publicly acknowledge her as his daughter, her father had nonetheless been determined that her future security should be safeguarded.
And in a moment of madness, in a moment of desperate anxiety about his health, Anton had come up with what only a madman could have seen as a solution! No, not a madman, she immediately adjusted with a suppressed groan, merely an old-fashioned man who honestly believed that all young women were pitifully vulnerable little creatures, helpless without the support and guidance of some big, strong, domineering man.
‘It can’t be legal...’ she whispered tautly.
‘It is perfectly legal but it would have been better had that will never seen the light of day,’ Constantine acknowledged harshly. ‘It could be challenged and it might well be overturned in court, because Anton made no provision for what was to happen to his estate in the event of no marriage taking place. As a result his business holdings and accounts are now frozen. But it is impossible to take legal action without exposing Thespina to considerable distress.’
Rosie was finding it very hard to think with clarity. ‘Surely she must already know about all this?’
‘She does not. Acquainted as she was with the terms of the original will, she has no suspicion of the existence of a later one. It was only discovered when Anton’s secretary cleared out his desk two days ago—’
‘But what about her? I mean, for heaven’s sake, Anton must have made some provision for his widow.’
‘Thespina is a very wealthy woman in her own right. Anton had no other living relatives. She shared his wish that I should be his heir.’ Constantine’s shrewd dark gaze skimmed her strained white face and a grim smile clenched his lips. ‘And it is not in your own best interests to invite publicity. Open that trashy little mouth and I won’t give you a penny!’
Rosie’s legs suddenly regained the power of movement. She surged upright, her eyes alight with raw antagonism. ‘I don’t want anything!’
Constantine Voulos studied her with cold, reflective eyes. ‘If you think you can drive the price up, you’re making a major error of judgement. You will go through a ceremony of marriage... and in return you will receive a big, fat cheque and a divorce as soon as I can arrange it.’
‘Are you out of your mind?’ Rosie demanded incredulously. ‘You really think I would go through with a marriage just so that you can get your greedy hands on Anton’s estate?’
A sash window above them was noisily opened. ‘Rosie? What did you do with all the towels?’ Maurice shouted down.
Constantine stiffened and took a step back, the better to get a view of the half-naked young man leaning out of the window. Rosie looked up too, absently conceding that from that angle Maurice looked rather like a blond version of King Kong.
‘Sorry..’ Maurice muttered, belatedly taking in the male with her and withdrawing his tattooed biceps and extremely hairy chest from view. ‘I didn’t know you had company—’
‘Who the hell is he?’ Constantine Voulos raked at Rosie, a rise of dark blood emphasising the savage line of his cheekbones.
‘Do you want me to come down and handle this, Rosie?’ Maurice enquired.
‘When I need you to fight my battles for me, I’ll be six feet under!’ Rosie bawled back, mortally offended by the offer.
The sash window slid reluctantly down again.
‘Anton is scarcely cold in his grave and already you have another man in your bed!’ Naked outrage had turned those brilliant black Greek eyes to seething gold.
Rosie’s hand flew up and connected with one hard masculine cheekbone with such force that her fingers went numb. Stunned by the blow, Constantine Voulos stared down at her with blatant incredulity.
The thunderous silence chilled her to the marrow.
‘I’m sick of you insulting me,’ she muttered through chattering teeth, almost as stunned as he was by the violent response he had drawn from her. ‘And if you touch me Maurice will pulverise you!’
‘He didn’t pulverise Anton...did he?’
Even hot with shame at having used Maurice as a threat to hide behind, Rosie registered the oddly roughened quality of Constantine Voulos’s deep, dark drawl and the indefinable change in the charged atmosphere.
The tall Greek stared broodingly down at her, smouldering golden eyes alarmingly intent. Involuntarily she met that molten gaze and her heartbeat thundered, her throat closing over, heat igniting in the pit of her stomach. She pressed her thighs together in sudden murderous unease.
‘That ... that was d-different,’ she stammered, utterly powerless in the hold of that entrapping stare which was somehow making her feel things she had never felt before. Sexual things, sexual feelings which filled her not only with astonishment but also with appallingly gauche confusion. Why ... how ... she didn’t understand because she couldn’t think straight any more.
Constantine Voulos took a fluid step back, his lean, powerful length emitting an electric tension. Inky black lashes dipped, closing her out again, severing her from the power source that had made every pulse in her treacherous body leap and leaving her disorientated and trembling.
‘I haven’t got time to play games, Miss Waring. I’ll give you twelve hours to think over your position... and then I’ll put the pressure on where it hurts most,’ Constantine warned in a soft drawl that sent a shiver down her rigid spine. ‘With a little help from me, life could become exceedingly difficult. This property is rented. What happens to the junkyard business if the lease isn’t renewed?’
Dawning perception filled Rosie’s shocked eyes. ‘You can’t be serious.’
A cold half-smile briefly slanted his hard mouth. ‘If I was free to follow my natural inclinations, you’d be begging on the street for your next meal. I’ll call again tomorrow morning.’
‘How did you know we rented this place?’ Rosie prompted helplessly as he walked away from her.
Constantine spun gracefully back. ‘And may I put in a special request?’ he murmured silkily, ignoring the question. ‘You strike me as a woman who knows how to please a man. So have a bath before I show up again.’