Claiming My Hidden Son. Maya Blake
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lowered my lips to her ear.
‘It’s our wedding night, matia mou. How would it look if we didn’t stay under the same roof? Sleep in the same bed?’
My lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear and she shivered. A moment later wide, alluring eyes sought mine.
‘Sleep in the same bed? But you don’t even know me. What…what’s the rush?’
I opened my mouth to tell her there was no rush. That giving her my name was the final payment she and her family would extract from me. Instead I shrugged, noting absently that a part of me was enjoying this a little too much.
‘Other than ensuring there will be nothing to be held over my head when the whim takes your father? Are you suggesting a period of getting to know one another before we decide if we must consummate this marriage?’
She gave a little start. ‘If? Don’t you mean when?’ she whispered fiercely, her eyes wider, searching.
Again the words to answer, to state that this dance was as close as we would get for the duration of our agreement, remained unsaid on the tip of my tongue. If she believed I would further compound this debacle by gracing her bed, so be it. She would discover differently later.
Absurdly, the pleasure in that thought of delivering disappointment never arrived. Instead I was unarmed by a disturbing throbbing in my groin, by the temptation to take a different approach. To gather her closer, breathe in the alluring perfume that clung to her silken skin.
I did just that, nudging her close with a firm clasp on her lower back. And heard her sharp intake of breath.
Pulling back, I glanced at her pale face. ‘Are you all right?’
Her swift nod assured me that she was lying, and the wild darting of her gaze confirmed that belief.
‘Calypso?’
‘I… I’m fine. Just a little headache. That’s all.’
I frowned. ‘Then why are you touching your stomach?’
Her hand quickly relocated from her midriff to my shoulder, her smile little more than a grimace. ‘It’s nothing, I assure you.’
About to refute that assurance, I was forestalled by the end of the music and the applause that followed. And then by the arrival of Iona Petras.
My introduction to Calypso’s mother, along with everyone else in the Petras clan, had been stiff and perfunctory, with no disguising exactly what this bloodless transaction was.
Everyone except Calypso.
‘May I have a private moment with my daughter?’ the older woman asked, although I got the feeling it was more an order than a request, giving me a momentary glimpse of where Calypso had inherited her quiet fire.
My fingers started to tighten on Calypso’s waist, as a peculiar reluctance to let her go assailed me. I strenuously denied it and released her. ‘By all means.’
A silent conversation passed between mother and daughter before Calypso held out her hand. Without so much as a glance my way, they exited the ballroom.
A fine irritant, like a tiny pebble in my shoe, stayed with me throughout all my inane conversations with people I didn’t know and another five-minute ribbing from Neo. By the time my father approached I had the notion that my jaw would crack from being ground so tight.
‘Am I mistaken or do you two seem to be getting along?’ my father asked.
‘You are mistaken,’ I quipped, unwilling to admit how that dance and the feel of Calypso in my arms had fired up my blood.
He grimaced. ‘I was hoping this would be less of an ordeal for you if you got along.’
‘I said I’d do what needs to be done. And I will.’
Despite that small, startling flame of anticipation burning inside me.
Despite the fact that I’d completely dismissed any occurrence of a wedding night until exactly five minutes ago.
That sensation of her slender back beneath my hand…that pulse beating at her throat… The shivers she couldn’t control.
The fire of anticipation flared higher, resisting every attempt to dampen it down.
But did I need to?
This abhorrent agreement hadn’t, thankfully, included a stipulation for consummation. But would it be a true marriage without it?
Enough!
Wrestling with myself over this was beneath me. Everything Yiannis Petras had asked for had been delivered. They would get nothing more from me.
That declaration lasted until my new wife walked back into the room and attempted to dismiss me with a vacant smile, even while her eyes challenged me.
Something locked into place inside me.
A challenge that needed answering.
Without stopping to question the wisdom of doing it, I crossed the wide room to where she stood. Took the hand loosely fisted by her side and brushed my lips over her knuckles.
Satisfaction sizzled through me when her breath caught. ‘Say your goodbyes, Calypso. It’s time to leave.’
‘So what now?’ I cringed inwardly at the nerves in my voice.
The helicopter ride—my first—from Nicrete to Agistros, the large island apparently owned entirely by Axios, had been breathtaking and exhilarating, and thankfully had not required much conversation. Largely because Axios had piloted the aircraft and I’d felt too nervous to disturb him, even if there’d been anything to talk about.
My mind was still a jumble after our charged snippets of conversation and that little slip on the dance floor, when he pulled me close and the ache in my belly manifested itself, and my last unsettling conversation with my mother.
But most of all it was the look in Axios’s eyes before he’d whisked me away from the reception and down to the waiting helicopter that kept my heart banging against my ribs.
That look was far too unsettling and electrifying for me to rest easy.
Especially not after landing on a dedicated cliff-side helipad on this island that boasted its own dormant volcano and a jaw-dropping villa that seemed almost too beautiful to be real.
I thought it was the setting sun that leant it that fairy tale look and made the unevenly staggered storeys seem to go on for ever. But every single facet of it turned out to be real, from the blush-hued stone, the towering arched windows, the rooftop infinity pool that seemed to blend into the sky and the endless reception rooms and bedroom suites, each holding priceless ancient works of art interspersed with the work of new cutting-edge artists whose work I loved.
Every jaw-dropping fact I’d read about Axios Xenakis had seemed amplified the moment he’d stepped out of the helicopter, and his aura was intensifying with each second as he walked me around Villa Almyra, exuding flawless power and authority.
Now, standing in the luxury sitting room adjoining what I assumed to be the master bedroom, I couldn’t hold my words back.
He didn’t answer for the longest time. He shrugged off the bespoke jacket he’d worn for the wedding ceremony. Then strolled over to the extensive drinks cabinet.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.
About to refuse, I stopped. It would buy me time to ease my nerves. ‘Mineral water, thanks.’
He poured my drink, then a single malt whisky into a crystal glass, handing mine to me before taking his time to savour his first sip.
The feeling that he was waiting, biding his time for…something threatened to overwhelm