Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks

Always alone.

How she wished she’d swallowed her pride and called her brother and begged him to come. Deep inside, a part of her had believed he would come, that he wouldn’t leave her to do this alone. That he’d forgive her.

This was his flesh and blood growing in her belly, the very reason she and Christian were prepared to take this ultimate step.

Alone or not, she should have left already.

Her stomach clenched.

She gazed at the French doors.

She didn’t have to do this. She could step out onto her balcony, unfold the emergency stairs and escape. Everyone was at the chapel. The staff was busy organising all the celebrations. It could be ages before anyone realised she wasn’t being traditionally late.

She pictured Christian’s face when he realised she’d stood him up.

She couldn’t do that to him. Alessandra knew all about humiliation and would never intentionally inflict it on someone else, least of all him.

And what would their innocent baby say when, at some point in the future, he or she learned what their mother had done to their father?

Another rap on the door reminded her that someone stood on the other side waiting for her.

Hurrying over, she opened it, pulling a smile onto her face that dropped as soon as she saw who it was.

Dressed in a morning suit, stood her brother.

For a moment she didn’t say anything.

Then she burst into tears.

Christian stood with Zayed and Stefan at his side, his two best men—or, as they were called here in their shared role, his koumbaros—eyes fixed on the chapel door.

Where was she?

It was traditional for the bride to be late but half an hour? If Stefan hadn’t taken his phone from him after Christian had texted her to say he was at the chapel, he would have called and demanded to know where she was.

A face in the congregation caused him momentarily to lose track of his thoughts.

There in the third row sat Mikolaj, an enormous beam on his face. Beside him sat his wife, Tanya, and three of their seven children.

Alessandra must have invited them.

His stomach curled.

She’d done that for him.

Christian nodded a greeting to them but was unable to return the smiles.

Where was she?

The priest continued to smile reassurance but Christian could see the doubt now plaguing his jovial demeanour.

At least the chapel belonged to the hotel and thus was owned by him. They would wait.

Another ten minutes passed. Just as his guts were really starting to churn, the door swung open and there she appeared, the sunshine illuminating her in a golden glow that made the white of her dress sparkle.

It was like gazing at an angel, a moment so beautiful that the relief that should have overwhelmed him faded into nothing, leaving only wonder.

The sound of Pachelbel’s Canon in D began, played by the string quartet hired for the occasion.

Alessandra walked towards him, an ethereal smile on her face, her steps slow.

His eyes fixed solely on her, it took a good few beats before he registered the arm she held on to.

Rocco had come. He hadn’t abandoned his sister. Christian’s trip to New York had paid off.

Behind them walked Olivia, stunning in emerald green.

As the bridal party stepped closer to him, a lump formed in his throat that grew larger with every one of Alessandra’s steps until she was there before him.

Unlike most brides, who pinned their hair up into an elaborate creation, she’d left hers loose, tumbling around her shoulders in dark chestnut waves. She looked amazing. Her dress a work of art: thin lace-embellished straps with tiny diamonds curved down and across her cleavage like a heart, the sheer material wrapping around her waist to showcase the flare of her hips, then floating to the floor and resting in a white circle.

He looked for a sign of apprehension but none was there. Her beautiful honey-brown eyes, artfully made-up, were clear. Remarkably clear.

He reached out a hand, and as she took it he caught Rocco’s eye. The look he gave said: she’s all yours now. Hurt her and you will spend the rest of your life paying for it.

He’d never understood the full weight of what ‘giving the bride away’ meant until that moment.

From here on in, the role of her protector passed to him, an antiquated sentiment, but one he felt keenly.

Alessandra would never be his possession but for good or for ill they would be bound together.

The service was anticipated to last around an hour. For the congregation, it no doubt dragged. For Christian, time accelerated, the moment to exchanging their vows speeding up until it was time for them to make their promises to each other—not a requirement of the church but something they had agreed upon between themselves for the benefit of their guests.

He said his first, then Alessandra recited hers, her husky voice true and strong, her Greek practised and flawless. The look in her eyes, fixed on his, was full of meaning. It was a sight that made his chest feel as if a weight had been placed inside him, squeezing down.

There was no time to consider it as now was the time for what was, to many Greeks, the most important part of the ceremony: the crowning. The priest blessed the two floral-wreath crowns, then Zayed took the lead, passing the crowns back and forth over them three times before carefully placing them on their heads.

Finally they were done.

It was time to kiss the bride.

He searched again for her apprehension. It was still missing, a smile playing in the corner of her delicious lips. Lips he hadn’t felt upon his since the night they had conceived the child that grew in her belly. Lips he’d spent the past couple of months dreaming of.

Swallowing away the lump in his throat, he placed a hand to her still-slender hip and leaned down. Her small hand reached up to rest on his lapel.

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers, just the breath of a kiss, but enough for the softest mouth he’d ever known to reawaken more memories of their night together and make his pulses race.

When the kiss ended, the congregation, no doubt led by Mikolaj, burst into applause. Alessandra grinned, her whole face smiling, her happiness transparent. She placed a hand on his shoulder and straightened to whisper into his ear, ‘Thank you.’

He knew without her having to explain that she was talking about Rocco.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered back.

She’d brought Mikolaj to their wedding. Christian hadn’t thought he wanted him there, thought he hadn’t wanted any associations with his past. He hadn’t appreciated how much it would mean. He’d thought having Stefan and Zayed there would be enough but, no matter how close they all were, Mikolaj had been there his entire life. He was family. Knowing he and Tanya were there to witness it all warmed him right down to his toes.

A sharp pang of regret rent him that his mother wasn’t there to witness this day too. But, unlike Mikolaj, his mother would have taken no joy from it. The opposite, in fact.

One look at Mikolaj’s beaming, proud face showed how much being there meant to him.

Alessandra had done that for him. Before he could consider what that actually meant, she kissed him, a kiss containing more than a hint of promise. That promise was reflected in her sparkling eyes.

The coldness that had remained within him since their visit to his mother suddenly lifted, pushed out by the desire this beautiful woman—his bride—elicited in him.

For a moment he was tempted to say, to hell with the reception, and whisk her straight off to his suite.

A knowing look played on her beautiful features, a look that said just a few more hours and I will be yours.

And she would be—his. Every inch of her.

A short time later they left the chapel, officially husband and wife.

Most of the non-Greek guests had brought confetti to throw over them, but Mikolaj and Tanya had come prepared, handing out paper cups full of rice to throw, as was the proper tradition in Greece.

Amidst howls of laughter, thousands of hard grains were chucked over them from every possible angle. Zayed and Stefan got hold of him and tipped a cupful down the back of his morning suit, rubbing them into his back for extra effect.

The official photos were taken in the grounds before the chapel, and then the entire wedding party headed back to the hotel for the proper celebrations to begin.

The terraced roof of the hotel had been transformed. An abundance of balloons and beautiful flowers covered the entire perimeter, the Parthenon clear in the distance, but close enough that from certain aspects it felt as if you could reach out and touch it.

The day had turned into something magical.

All Alessandra could think was how much work and effort Christian had put into making this a special day for them. Sure, he’d outsourced it all, but he’d been the one to do the outsourcing.

All she’d done was buy her dress. And lingerie…

Crying in her brother’s arms had had the effect of clearing her head.

Rocco had urged her to abandon the whole thing. He and Olivia would take care of her.

Alessandra didn’t need taking care of—her baby did. Christian was her baby’s father. They belonged in each other’s lives.

She’d washed her face and reapplied her make-up and then, when she’d looked back in the mirror, the truth had been reflected back at her in startling clarity.

She was committing her life to Christian and their baby. It was time to embrace it for all their sakes.

Done with taking pictures of her husband and their guests—it truly was a photographer’s dream here—she put her camera back into its case and sat back down at the top table.

Staring at him now—holding court with Zayed, Stefan and Stefan’s date, Clio, on the edge of the dance floor—her heart clenched, packing into a tight little ball.

Christian must have felt her gaze upon him for he met her eyes, raising his glass of champagne to her.

She raised her lemonade back, her skin dancing as if his gaze had physically touched her.

He said something to his friends which made them all laugh. It pained her that Rocco refused to join them, keeping his distance in the far corner of the room with Olivia and an earnest A-list Hollywood superstar. Her brother had spelled out in no uncertain terms that he was there to do his duty and nothing else.

Her suspicions about Christian’s trip to New York had been correct—he had gone there with an ulterior motive. But her fears had been wildly off the mark. He hadn’t gone to meet up with a secret woman. He’d gone in an attempt to make her brother see sense and attend their wedding.

He’d turned up at their New York home and told her brother in no uncertain terms that Alessandra needed him. When he’d left, Olivia had taken up the cause, essentially bullying Rocco into attending.

Knowing Christian had done that for her…è stato incredibile.

She only wished Rocco would see what an amazing thing it was too. To her knowledge, he hadn’t exchanged a word with Christian all day.

Whatever his reasons, and however great his reluctance, she was glad he’d come. More than glad. She hoped with all her heart that one day he would come to accept them and accept that their marriage was the right thing for all of them. He might infuriate her but he was her brother and she loved him.

Christian weaved his way through the dancing guests and took his seat at the top table beside her. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asked, leaning back into his chair.

‘Perfetto.’ She smiled. ‘This has all been amazing, grazie mille.’

He slung an arm around the back of her chair. ‘It is my pleasure.’

The sound of rotor blades in full motion caught their attention.

‘Paparazzi,’ he spat, getting back to his feet and kicking his chair back. Immediately he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled a number, speaking into it with a low voice packed full of menace.

‘I had arranged that no helicopter fly within a mile of the hotel today,’ he explained tightly when he finished his call, his face taut. ‘I will not have our wedding day turned into a circus.’

She shrugged. ‘They’re tenacious. It was to be expected.’

‘They’re like locusts.’ He laid his palms on the table, his face stark with anger.

Not wanting all the good feeling ruined, she raised a hand to his face and palmed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

The blue in his eyes darkened, his frame stilling. ‘For what?’

‘For trying to keep them away from me.’

His nostrils flared a touch. He didn’t answer, simply stared at her as if trying to peer into her mind.

She gazed back, drinking him in, the heat inside her—so constant when with him—bubbling beneath her…

And then he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his, holding it there, not moving, just breathing into her, warm champagne-scented air filling her senses until he gently slid his mouth across her cheek and brushed his lips against her ear. ‘Soon, agapi mou, I will do more than just kiss you.’

Her insides melted. Her heart racing at a gallop, she was about to grab his hand and beg him to whisk her away to somewhere private when Zayed joined them, announcing his presence by slapping Christian hard on the back.

‘Come on, newlyweds, it is time for the Kalamatianos,’ he said, referring to the traditional wedding dance adored by all Greeks. Over his shoulder, Mikolaj and Tanya grinned and waved, already tapping their feet in anticipation.

She was so glad she’d gone behind his back and invited them. It hadn’t sat well with her, knowing he would have no one from his childhood there. Knowing Christian was happy she had done so lightened her further.

It made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, thinking they had gone behind each other’s back to bring someone important to their big day.

Soon she was on her feet with Christian in the centre of the dance floor, each holding an end of a scarf that had been thrust at them. With traditional Greek music playing, Zayed and Stefan chivvied everyone up to form a circle around them, the guests linking hands and, following Mikolaj and the other Greek guests’ example, swirling around them like a circling snake, shouts of, ‘Opa!’ ringing out.

Alessandra had the time of her life. When the Kalamatianos was over, everyone, including the bride and groom, stayed on the dance floor. They danced together, slow songs, fast songs, their hands entwined, their eyes only for each other.

She wanted the wedding and all the good feelings it evoked in her to last forever, to hold on to this moment for as long as she could. Contrarily, she wanted it to end now, wanted the sensuous promise ringing from Christian’s eyes to become reality.

Soon…

Soon it would be time to retire to his suite and begin their newly married life in a manner that sent heat surging through her just to think about it.

Christian opened the door of the suite and, keeping hold of Alessandra’s hand, closed it behind them.

‘Someone’s been busy,’ he observed, burrowing his face into the nape of her neck. At long last, he was free to touch her and taste her and do all the things he’d wanted to do for so long the ache in his groin had become a permanent part of him.

His suite—their suite, now all of Alessandra’s possessions had been moved in while their celebrations had been going on—had been decorated. Flowers were artfully arranged in vases, rose petals had been scattered over the bed and a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket next to two champagne flutes.

‘Clichéd but very romantic,’ she said, twisting round to face him.

All the dancing had left her cheeks flushed and her eyes alive with pleasure.

He wanted those eyes glowing with pleasure for a different reason.

Gripping her hip, he pulled her to him and snaked his arm around her waist.

He gazed down into those striking eyes and those moreish lips. His to taste.

She was his to taste.

As he bent his head to claim her mouth, she darted gracefully out of his clasp, laughing softly. ‘Not yet.’

‘You’re making me wait?’ he said, his words coming out with an animalistic growl.

‘I’m going to freshen up. Remember, anticipation makes fulfilment taste all the sweeter.’ She sashayed to one of the bathrooms, flashed him a smile full of promise and locked the door behind her.

Alessandra applied a touch more lipstick then tightened the sash of her silk white robe.

Who needed alcohol?

Desire pulsed through her, making her pulses race uncontrollably.

She hadn’t expected that a ring on her finger and a signed piece of paper could make her feel so different but it did.

Christian was the only man she’d ever truly wanted.

She remembered the first time she’d met him, when she’d been twelve and Rocco had brought the Brat Pack to Lake Como for a break. How young and naïve she’d been, still believing in love and romance. She’d taken one look at Adonis and her heart had skipped into her mouth.

He’d hardly noticed her existence.

Looking back with the benefit of hindsight on her ill-fated tryst with Javier, she could see it was the flattery she’d responded to, not him. She’d swallowed all his lies because she’d been flattered a man, not an immature boy, was showing an interest in her.

With Christian, it was the man himself she responded to.

She dabbed some perfume behind her ear and onto her wrists and left the privacy of the bathroom. It was time to see her husband as his wife.

CHAPTER TEN

WHEN ALESSANDRA EMERGED from the bathroom and closed the door softly behind her, the only sound Christian could hear was his own heartbeat. Drumming. Thundering in his ears.

He’d stripped naked, shedding his clothes in front of the mirror, staring closely at his reflection.

He didn’t know what it could be but he felt different.

He looked the same. The desire he felt for his beautiful bride still burned deep inside him.

But something had changed.

Now he sat in the huge bed, leant back against the headboard, the bed sheets draped across his lap, a dim light glowing. And she was here with him, her dress removed, only a white robe covering her beautiful figure.

Slowly she stepped to him until she reached his side.

‘Take your robe off.’ He could hear the thickness in the timbre of his voice.

Her hands trembled, but a knowing smile pulled at her lips. She tugged at the sash of her robe and parted it, letting it drop to the floor.

Christian couldn’t have torn his gaze away if he’d wanted to.

He didn’t want to.

He wanted to capture this moment so he could replay it forever.

Theos but she was more beautiful than he remembered, the white of her lacy lingerie contrasting against the golden hue of her skin.

Her breasts were swollen, the bra pushing them up to display her cleavage, only just hiding the dusky nipples he remembered so well.

Sitting upright, he extended a hand to grip onto her curved hip, sliding a finger under the strap of her suspender belt.

He ran his other hand up the soft swell of her belly, only slightly thickened since he’d last seen her unclothed.

She dropped a hand onto his shoulder, a cloud of her sultry scent releasing and filling his senses. He’d never known a scent like it, so perfectly matching its owner, a sweet yet musky fragrance, with depth.

He traced his hand back down her belly and clasped hold of her other hip, tugging her to him.

Inhaling her scent deeply into his lungs, he pressed a kiss into the curve of her neck, felt her quiver.

The ache in his groin, that constant state of affairs whenever he was with her, magnified by a thousand, his entire body coming alive to her sweet touch and even sweeter taste.

Using gentle manipulation, he pulled her onto the bed facing him, so she straddled his still-covered lap.

Her eyes darkened and swirled, arousal and desire burning strongly.

The first time they’d made love he’d plunged into her without a thought. His shock at discovering she was a virgin had been masked by concern that he’d hurt her. Her breath had hitched, a tiny mew escaping her throat. He’d held her tightly, stroking her hair, her body, raining kisses over her face until he’d felt her relax, seen her pupils dilate…

She’d been so responsive to everything he’d done to her, so eager to give in return.

She’d been a revelation.

And now he got to experience and taste her all over again.

But this time there would be no pain. Only pleasure.

Wrapping an arm around her and cradling the back of her head with his other hand, he pulled her flush against him and slanted his mouth over the soft, plump lips he’d spent the past two months dreaming about.

She sighed into him and rested her hands on his shoulders, her nails digging into him as her lips parted to allow his tongue to sweep into her warmth.

He stroked her back, up and down, exploring the silky skin anew, then down her sides to the top of her stockings.

She broke the kiss, nuzzling her mouth against his jaw and down into his neck, her hair tickling him.

‘You taste divine,’ she murmured, the first words she’d uttered since she’d left the bathroom.

Her compliment made his chest heave.

He speared her hair and tugged it back gently so he could look into her eyes. ‘You are divine.’

A small, almost shy, smile spread across her face, and she leaned forward to kiss him, deeply, passionately, her hands crawling up to his scalp and holding on to it.

He found the clasp of her bra and undid it. She released her hold on him, enabling him to pull the straps down her arms and discard the bra on the floor beside him.

When they’d made love the first time, he’d been enraptured with her breasts, their size, their taste, the way his hands could cup them perfectly, everything about them. Pregnancy had swollen them. He didn’t know if it was a trick of the light but her dusky nipples seemed darker than he remembered, contrasting against the paleness of her breasts.

He was the only person in the world who knew Alessandra’s breasts were the palest part of her body.

It was because his child was growing inside her that these small, subtle changes were taking place.

Using his hands to lift her a touch, he dipped his head and captured one of those beautiful, dusky nipples in his mouth.

Alessandra moaned and ran her fingers through his hair, arching her back to thrust her chest forward and into him.

He flattened a palm against the small of her back to steady her, his free hand roaming until he found the clasp of her suspenders. Before he released it he stroked the exposed flesh above the stockings. Her skin felt better than any material ever could.

When he played with the clasp he was shocked to find himself all thumbs, the deftness he’d acquired over the years gone. It was as if he’d never tried to undo a suspender belt before.