Greek Mavericks: Giving Her Heart To The Greek

The little food she’d eaten felt like glue in her stomach. She finished up with the best argument she could muster.

“You said you’re loyal to your grandfather for what he gave you. That’s how I feel toward her. The only way I can live with removing her from her home is by making sure she goes to a good place. So I have to go back to London and oversee that.”

Setting aside her coffee, she hugged herself, staring sightlessly at the horizon, not sure if it was guilt churning her stomach or angst at revealing herself this way.

“Now who is beating you up?” Mikolas challenged.

She swung her head to look at him. “You don’t think I owe her? Someone needs to advocate for her.”

“Where is she now?”

“I was coming away so I made arrangements with her doctor for her to go into an extended-care facility. It’s just for assessment and referral, though. The formal arrangements have to be completed. She can’t stay where she is and she can’t go home if I’m not there. Her doctor is expecting me for a consult this week.”

Mikolas reached for his tablet and tapped to place a call. A moment later, the tablet chimed. Someone answered in German. They had a lengthy conversation that she didn’t understand. Mikolas ended with, “Dankeschön.”

“Who was that?” she asked as he set aside the tablet.

“My grandfather’s doctor. He’s Swiss. He has excellent connections with private clinics all over Europe. He’ll ensure Hildy is taken into a good one.”

She snorted. “Neither of us has the kind of funds that will underwrite a private clinic arranged by a posh specialist from Switzerland. I can barely afford the extra fees for the one I’m hoping will take her.”

“I’ll do this for you, to put your mind at ease.”

Her mind blanked for a full ten seconds.

“Mikolas,” she finally sputtered. “I want to do it. I definitely don’t want to be in your debt over it!” She ignored the fact that he had already decided she owed him.

Men expect things when they do you a favor, she heard Hildy saying.

A lurching sensation yanked at her heart, like a curtain being pulled aside on its rungs, exposing her at her deepest level. “What kind of sex do you think you’re going to get out of me that would possibly compensate you for something like that? Because I can assure you, I’m not that good! You’ll be disappointed.”

So disappointed.

Had she just said “you’ll”? Like she was a sure thing?

She tightened her arms across herself, refusing to look at him as this confrontation took the direction she had hoped it wouldn’t: right into the red-light district of Sexville.

* * *

“If that sounds like I just agreed to have sex with you, that’s not what I meant,” Viveka bit out, voice less strident, but still filled with ire.

Mikolas couldn’t think of another woman he’d encountered with such an easily tortured conscience or with such a valiant determination to protect people she cared about while completely disregarding the cost to herself.

She barely seemed real. He was in danger of being moved by her depth of loyalty toward her aunt. A jaded part of him had to question whether she was doing exactly what she claimed she wasn’t: trying to manipulate him into underwriting the old woman’s care, but unlike most women in his sphere, she wasn’t offering sex as compensation for making her problems go away.

While he was finding the idea of her coming to his bed motivated by anything other than the same passion that gripped him more intolerable by the second.

“Let us be clear,” he said with abrupt decision. “The debt you owe me is the loss of a wife.”

She didn’t move, but her blue eyes lifted to fix on him, watchful and limitless as the sky.

“My intention was to marry, honeymoon this week, then throw a reception for my new bride, introducing her to a social circle that has been less than welcoming to someone with my pedigree when I only ever had a mistress du jour on my arm.”

Being an outsider didn’t bother him. He had conditioned himself not to need approval or acceptance from anyone. He preferred his own company and had his grandfather to talk to if he grew bored with himself.

But ostracism didn’t sit well with a nature that demanded to overcome any circumstance. The more he worked at growing the corporation, the more he recognized the importance of networking with the mainstream. Socializing was an annoying way to spend his valuable time, but necessary.

“Curiosity, if nothing else, would have brought people to the party,” he continued. “The permanence of my marriage would have set the stage for developing other relationships. You understand? Wives don’t form friendships with women they never see again. Husbands don’t encourage their wives to invite other men’s temporary liaisons for drinks or dinner.”

“Because they’re afraid their wives will hear about their own liaisons?” she hazarded with an ingenuous blink.

Really, no sense of self-preservation.

“It’s a question of investment. No one wants to put time or money into something that lacks a stable future. I was gaining more than Grigor’s company by marrying. It was a necessary shift in my image.”

Viveka shook her head. “Trina would have been hopeless at what you’re talking about. She’s sweet and funny, loves to cook and pick flowers for arrangements. You couldn’t ask for a kinder ear if you need to vent, but playing the society wife? Making small talk about haute couture and trips to the Maldives? You, with your sledgehammer personality, would have crushed her before she was dressed, let alone an evening trying to find her place in the pecking order of upper-crust hens.”

“Sledgehammer,” he repeated, then accused facetiously, “Flirt.”

She blushed. It was pretty and self-conscious and fueled by this ivory-tusked, sexual awareness they were both pretending to ignore. Her gaze flashed to his, naked and filled with last night’s trance-like kiss. Her nipples pricked to life beneath the pink of her shirt. So did the flesh between his legs. The moment became so sexually infused, he almost lost the plot.

That’s how he wanted it to be between them: pure reaction. Not installment payments.

He reined himself in with excruciating effort, throat tight and body readied with tension as he continued.

“Circulating with the woman who broke up my wedding is not ideal, but will look better than escorting a rebound after being thrown over. Since you’ll be with me until I’ve neutralized Grigor, we will be able to build that same message of constancy.”

“What do you mean about neutralizing Grigor?”

“I spoke to him this morning. He’s not pleased with my takeover or the fact you’re staying with me. You need some serious protections in place. Did you have your mother’s death investigated?”

That seemed to throw her. Her face spasmed with emotion.

“I was only nine when it happened so it was years before I really put it all together and thought he could have done it. I was fourteen when I asked the police to look into it, but they didn’t take me seriously. The police on the island are in his pocket. The whole island is and I don’t really blame them. I’ve learned myself that you play by his rules or lose everything. Probably the only reason he didn’t kill me for making a statement was because it would have been awfully suspicious if something happened to me right after my complaint. But stirring up questions was one of the reasons he kicked me out. Why?”

“I will hire a private investigator to see what we can find. If something can be proved and he’s put in prison, you’ll be out of his reach.”

“That could take years!”

“And will make him that much more incensed with you in the short term,” he said drily. “But as you say, if he’s under suspicion, it wouldn’t look good if anything happened to you. I think it will afford you protection in the long term.”

“You’re going to start an investigation, take care of my aunt and protect me from Grigor and all I have to do is pretend to be your girlfriend.” Her voice rang with disbelief. “For how long?”

“At least until the merger completes and the investigation shows some results. Play your part well and you might even earn my forgiveness for disrupting my life so thoroughly.”

Her laugh was ragged and humorless. “And sex?”

She tossed her head, affecting insouciance, but the small frown between her brows told him she was anxious. That aggravated him. He could think of nothing else but discovering exactly how incendiary they would be together. If she wasn’t equally obsessed, he was at a disadvantage.

Not something he ever endured.

With a casual flick of his hand, he proclaimed, “Like today’s fine weather, we’ll enjoy it because it’s there.”

Did a little shadow of disappointment pass behind her eyes? What did she expect? Lies about falling in love? They really were at an impasse if she expected that ruse.

Her mouth pursed to disguise what might have been a brief tremble. She pushed to stand. “Yes, well, the almanac is predicting heavy frost. Dress warm.” She reached for her bag. “I’m going to my room.”

“Leave your passport with me.”

She turned back to regard him with what he was starting to think of as her princess look, very haughty and down the nose. “Why?”

“To arrange travel visas.”

“To where?”

“Wherever I need you to be.”

“Give me a ‘for instance.’”

“Asia, eventually, but you wanted to go to Athens, didn’t you? There’s a party tonight. Do as you’re told and I’ll let you off the boat to come with me.”

Her spine went very straight at that patronizing remark. Her unfettered breasts were not particularly heavy, but magnificent in their shape and firmness and chill-sharpened points. He was going to go out of his mind if he didn’t touch her again soon.

As if she read his thoughts, her brows tugged together with conflict. She was no doubt thinking that the return of her purse and arrival in Athens equaled an excellent opportunity to set him in the rearview mirror.

He tensed, waiting out the minutes of her indecision. Oddly, it was not unlike the anticipation of pain. His breath stilled in his lungs, throat tight, as he willed her to do as he said.

Do not make me ask again.

Helplessness flashed in her expression before she ducked her head and drew her passport out of her bag, hand trembling as she held it out to him.

A debilitating rush of relief made his own arm feel like it didn’t even belong to him. He reached to take it.

She held on while she held his gaze, incredibly beautiful with that hard-won determination lighting her proud expression. “You will make sure Aunt Hildy is properly cared for?”

“You and Pappoús will get along well. He holds me to my promises, too.”

She released the passport into his possession, averting her gaze as though she didn’t want to acknowledge the significance. Clearing her throat, she took out her phone. “I want to check in with Trina. May I have the WiFi code?”

“The security key is a mix of English and Greek characters.” He held out his other hand. “I’ll do it for you.”

She released a noise of impatient defeat, slapped her phone into his palm and walked away.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MIKOLAS HAD SET himself up in her contacts with a selfie taken on her phone, of him sitting there like a sultan on his yacht, taking ownership of her entire life.

She couldn’t stop looking at it. Those smoky eyes of his were practically making love to her, the curve of his wide mouth quirked at the corners in not quite a smile. It was more like, I know you’re naked in the shower right now. He was so brutally handsome with his chiseled cheekbones and devil-doesn’t-give-a-damn nonchalance he made her chest hurt.

Yet he had also forwarded a request from the Swiss doctor for her aunt’s details along with a recommendation for one of those beyond-top-notch dementia villages that were completely unattainable for mere mortals. A quick scan of its website told her it was very patient-centric and prided itself on compassion and being ahead of the curve with quality treatment. All that was needed was the name of her aunt’s physician to begin Hildy’s transfer into the facility’s care.

Along with Trina’s well-being, a good plan for Aunt Hildy was the one thing Viveka would sell her soul for. It was a sad commentary on her life that it was the only thing pulling her back to London. She had no community there, rarely had time for dating or going out with friends. Her neighbor was nice, but mostly her life had revolved around school, then work and caring for Aunt Hildy. There was no one worrying about her now, when she had been stolen like a concubine by this throwback Spartan warrior.

She sighed, not even able to argue that her job was a career she needed to get back to. One quick email and her position had been snapped up by one of the part-timers who need the hours. She’d be on the bottom rung when she went back. If she went back. She’d accepted that job for its convenience to home, and in the back of her mind, she’d already been planning to make a change once she had Hildy settled.

But Aunt Hildy had faced nothing but challenges all her life and, in her way, she’d been Viveka’s lifeline. The old woman shouldn’t have to suffer and wouldn’t. Not if Viveka could help it.

And now that Mikolas had spelled out that sex wasn’t mandatory...

Oh, she didn’t want to think about sex with that man! He already made her feel so unlike herself she could hardly stand it. But she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to lie with him. Something about him got to her, making her blood run like cavalry into sensual battle. Sadly, Viveka had reservations that made the idea of being intimate with him seem not just ill-advised but completely impossible.

So she tried not to think of it and video-called Trina. Her sister was both deliriously joyful and terribly worried when she picked up.

“Where are you? Papa is furious.” Her eyes were wide. “I’m scared for you, Vivi.”

“I’m okay,” she prevaricated. “What about you? You’ve obviously talked to him. Is he likely to come after you?”

“He doesn’t believe this was my decision. He blames you for all of it and it sounds—I’m not sure what’s going on at his office, but things are off the rails and he thinks it’s your fault. I’m so sorry, Vivi.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Viveka snorted, hiding how scared the news made her. “Are you and Stephanos happy? Was all of this worth it?”

“So happy! I knew he was my soul mate, but oh, Vivi!” Her sister blushed, growing even more radiant, saying in a self-conscious near-whisper, “Being married is even better than I imagined it would be.”

Lovemaking. That’s what her little sister was really talking about.

Envy, acute and painful, seared through Viveka. She had always felt left out when women traded stories about men and intimacy. Dating for her had mostly been disastrous. Now even her younger sister was ahead of her on that curve. It made Viveka even more insecure in her sexuality than she already was.

They talked a few more minutes and Viveka was wistful when she ended the call. She was glad Trina was living happily-ever-after. At one time, she’d believed in that fairy tale for herself, but had become more pragmatic over the years, first by watching the nightmare that her mother’s romance turned into, then challenged by Aunt Hildy for wanting a man to “complete” her.

She hadn’t thought of it that way, exactly. Finding a soul mate was a stretch, true, but why shouldn’t she want a companion in life? What was the alternative? Live alone and lonely, like Aunt Hildy? Engage in casual hookups like Mikolas had said he preferred?

She was not built for fair-weather frolics.

Her introspection was interrupted by a call from Hildy’s doctor. He was impressed that she was able to get her aunt into that particular clinic and wanted to make arrangements to move her the next morning. He assured Viveka she was doing the right thing.

The die was cast. Not long after, the ship docked and Viveka and Mikolas were whisked into a helicopter. It deposited them on top of his building, which was an office tower, but he had a penthouse that took up most of an upper floor.

“I have meetings this afternoon,” he told her. “A stylist will be here shortly to help you get ready.”

Viveka was typically ready to go out within thirty minutes. That included shampooing and drying her hair. She had never in her life started four hours before an appointment, not even when she had fake-married the man who calmly left her passport on a side table like bait and walked out.

Not that this world was so different from living with Grigor, Viveka thought, lifting her baleful gaze from the temptation of her passport to gaze around Mikolas’s private domain. Grigor had been a bully, but he’d lived very well. His island mansion had had all the same accoutrements she found in Mikolas’s penthouse: a guest room with a full bath, a well-stocked wine fridge and pantry, a pool on a deck overlooking a stunning view.

None of it put her at ease. She was still nervous. Expectation hung over her. Or rather, the question of what Mikolas expected.

And whether she could deliver.

Not sex, she reminded herself, trying to keep her mind off that. She turned to tormenting herself with anxiety over how well she would perform in the social arena. She wasn’t shy, but she wasn’t particularly outgoing. She wasn’t particularly pretty, either, and she had a feeling every other woman at this party would be gorgeous if Mikolas thought she needed four hours of beautification to bring her up to par.

The stylist’s preparation wasn’t all shoring up of her looks, however. It was pampering with massage and a mani-pedi, encouragement to doze by the pool while last-minute adjustments were made to her dress, and a final polish on her hair and makeup that gave her more confidence than she expected.

As she eyed herself in the gold cocktail dress, she was floored at how chic she looked. The cowled halter bodice hung low across her modest chest and the snug fabric hugged her hips in a way that flattered her figure without being obvious. The color brought out the lighter strands in her hair and made her skin look like fresh cream.

The stylist had trimmed her mop, then let its natural wave take over, only parting it to the side and adding two little pins so her face was prettily framed while the rest fell away in a shiny waterfall around her shoulders. She applied false eyelashes, but they were just long enough to make her feel extra feminine, not ridiculous.

“I’ve never known how to make my bottom lip look as wide as the top,” Viveka complained as her lips were painted. The bruise Grigor had left there had faded overnight to unnoticeable.

“Why would you want to?” the woman chided her. “You have a very classic look. Like old Hollywood.”

Viveka snorted, but she’d take it.

She had to acknowledge she was delighted with the end result, but became shy when she moved into the lounge to find Mikolas waiting for her.

He took her breath, standing at the window with a drink in his hand. He’d paired his suit with a gray shirt and charcoal tie, ever the dark horse. It was all cut to perfection against his frame. His profile was silhouetted against the glow of the Acropolis in the distance. Zeus, she thought, and her knees weakened.

He turned his head and even though he was already quite motionless, she sensed time stopping. Maybe they both held their breath. She certainly did, anxious for kind judgment.

Behind her, the stylist left, leaving more tension as the quiet of the apartment settled with the departure of the lift.

Viveka’s eyes dampened. She swallowed to ease the dryness in the back of her throat. “I have no idea how to act in this situation,” she confessed.

“A date?” he drawled, drawing in a breath as though coming back to life.

“Is that all it is?” Why did it feel so monumental? “I keep thinking that I’m supposed to act like we’re involved, but I don’t know much about you.”

“Don’t you?” His cheek ticked and she had the impression he didn’t like how much she did know.

“I guess I know you’re the kind of man who saves a stranger’s life.”

That seemed to surprise him.

She searched his enigmatic gaze, asking softly, “Why did you?” Her voice held all of the turbulent emotions he had provoked with the act.

“It was nothing,” he dismissed, looking away to set down his glass.

“Please don’t say that.” But was it realistic to think her life had meant something to him after one glimpse? No. Her heart squeezed. “It wasn’t nothing to me.”

“I don’t know,” he admitted tightly. His eyes moved over her like he was looking for clues. “But I wasn’t thinking ahead to this. Saving a person’s life shouldn’t be contingent on repayment. I just reacted.”

Unlike his grandfather, who had wanted to know he was actually getting his grandson before stepping in. Oh, Mikolas.

For a moment, the walls between them were gone and the bright, magnetic thing between them tugged. She wanted to move forward and offer comfort. Be whatever he needed her to be.

For one second, he seemed to hover on a tipping point. Then a layer of aloofness fell over him like a cloak.

“I don’t think anyone will have trouble believing we’re involved when you look at me like that.” He smiled, but it was a tad cruel. “If I wasn’t finally catching up to someone I’ve been chasing for a while, I would accept your invitation. But I have other priorities.”

She flinched, stunned by the snub.

Fortunately he didn’t see it, having turned away to press the call button to bring back the elevator.

She moved on stiff legs to join him, fighting tears of wounded self-worth. Her throat ached. Compassion wasn’t a character flaw, she reminded herself. Just because Grigor and Hildy and this jackass weren’t capable of appreciating what she offered didn’t mean she was worthless.

She couldn’t help her reaction to him. Maybe if she wasn’t such an incurable virgin, she’d be able to handle him, she thought furiously, but that’s what she was and she hated him for taunting her with it.

She was wallowing so deep in silent offense, she moved automatically, leaving the elevator as the doors opened, barely taking in her surroundings until she heard her worst nightmare say, “There she is.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

MIKOLAS WAS KICKING himself as the elevator came to a halt.

Viveka had been so beautiful when she had walked into the lounge, his heart had lurched. An unfamiliar lightheartedness had overcome him. It hadn’t been the money spent on her appearance. It was the authentic beauty that shone through all the labels and products, the kind that waterfalls and sunsets possessed. You couldn’t buy that kind of awe-inspiring magnificence. You couldn’t ignore it, either, when it was right in front of you. And when you let yourself appreciate it, it felt almost healing...

He never engaged in rose smelling and sunset gazing. He lived in an armored tank of wealth, emotional distance and superficial relationships. His dates were formalities, a type of foreplay. It wasn’t sexism. He invested even less in his dealings with men.

His circle never included people as unguarded as Viveka, with her defensive shyness and yearning for acceptance. Somehow that guilelessness of hers got through his barriers as aggression never would. She’d asked him why he’d saved her life and before he knew it, he was reliving the memory of pleading with everything in him for his grandfather—a stranger at the time—to save him.

Erebus hadn’t.

Not right away. Not without proof.

Words such as despair and anguish were not strong enough to describe what came over him when he thought back to it.

She had had an idea what it was, though, without his having to say a word. He had seen more in her eyes than an offer of sex. Empathy, maybe. Whatever it was, it had been something so real, it had scared the hell out of him. He couldn’t lie with a woman when his inner psyche was torn open that far. Who knew what else would spill out?