Claiming My Hidden Son / Bride Behind The Billion-Dollar Veil. Clare Connelly
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She offered me her hand, but the eyes that met mine as she stood sparkled with renewed fire. ‘No one calls me Calypso. My name is Callie,’ she stated firmly.
I attempted to ignore the slim fingers in mine, the smooth softness of her palm and the way it kicked to life something inside me as I led her to the middle of the dance floor.
‘I’m your new husband—surely I don’t fall under the category of no one?’ I curled my arm around her waist, a singular need to press her close escalating inside me as the band struck up a waltz.
She stiffened. ‘Are you insinuating that you’re special?’
For some reason my lips quirked. ‘By your tone, I’m guessing I’m not. Not even special enough for you to grant me the simple gift of addressing you as I please?’
Her lips firmed again, drawing my attention to their plumpness. Reminding me of that all too fleeting taste of them.
‘And what am I to call you? Other than stranger or husband?’
For some reason the fiery huskiness of her voice drew another smile. A puzzle in itself, since humour was the last emotion I should have been experiencing. I was in this situation because of money and shameless greed.
‘Call me Axios. Or Ax, as most people do. I doubt we will reach the stage of coining terms of endearment.’
‘On that I think we’re agreed,’ she replied, her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder.
Another scrabble of irritation threatened to rise, but I suppressed it when I noticed that once again, beneath the show of sharp claws, she was trembling, her wide eyes a little too bright. As if she was holding on to her composure by a thread.
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked. Again I questioned my need to know. Or care.
‘What could possibly be wrong?’
She didn’t bother to meet my gaze. If anything, she attempted to detach herself, which ought to have been impossible, considering how close we were dancing. But I was learning that my new wife had several…interesting facets.
‘It is polite to look at me when you address me.’
She maintained her stance for another few seconds, then her blue eyes rose to mine. The urge to stare into them, to commit every fleck and expression to memory, charged through me, this time bringing a wave of heat to my groin.
I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to ignore that unsettling sensation and address her as I would any acquaintance.
Even though she wasn’t.
Even though she’d taken my name and we were effectively bound together for twelve long months.
‘This thing will go smoother if we attempt to be civil with one another. Don’t you agree?’
‘I’m not a puppet. I cannot act a certain way on command.’
‘But you can dispense with that little-girl-lost look. And I find it curious that you would choose to refer to puppets. Perhaps you’re familiar with knowing exactly which strings to tug to get what you want?’
Unlike me, she didn’t attempt to disguise her frown. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘This whole scheme, orchestrated by you and your family, has gone off without a hitch. Feel free to stop acting now.’
She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting to the guests dancing around us. ‘Please keep your voice down.’
‘Afraid you’ll be found out? Are you really so blind to the fact that every single guest is speculating wildly about how two people who’ve never met are now married?’
Her plump lips pressed together for a moment. ‘I can’t control what other people think. But I do care about perpetuating unfounded rumours.’
‘Do you, yineka mou?’
Her blue eyes shadowed and her gaze quickly flicked away. ‘Can you not call me that, please?’
‘Why not? Are you not my wife?’
The more the term fell from my lips the deeper it bored into me, as if rooting for a place to settle. Of course the search would be futile, because this was far from what I wanted.
The strain and stress of trying to save his failing company while keeping his family and his marriage together had driven my grandfather into an early grave, his spirit broken long before the heart attack that had suddenly taken him. It was the same stress that had nearly broken my own father, forcing him to step down after a mere two years as CEO.
I didn’t intend to weigh myself down with similar baggage.
I refocused on Calypso, attempting to ignore the effect of her soft curves against my body as she asked, ‘So, what happens after this?’
‘“This”?’
‘After we’re done here,’ she elaborated.
Unbidden, my thoughts flew ahead. To when the evening would turn exclusive and intimate. When wedding euphoria traditionally took on another, more carnal dimension.
A traditions I wouldn’t be indulging in.
‘Do you plan on getting back into your helicopter and leaving me here?’
The carefully disguised hope in her voice threw me back to that day in my father’s office a month ago, when an agreement that bore all the hallmarks of blackmail had crash-landed into my life and threatened the Xenakis name and business. Did she really think she and her family could take financial advantage and then sail off into the sunset?
The silent vow I’d taken that day to ensure neither Calypso nor her father escaped unscathed resurged as I looked down into her face. A face struggling for composure and a body twitching nervously beneath my hand.
I pulled her closer, steadied her at her slight stumble, and 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…