The Return Of Her Billionaire Husband / Revelations Of A Secret Princess

‘I’m sorry…’ she said, frowning. ‘I mustn’t have heard you correctly when you told me that when we were living together.’

His lips moved in a grimace-like smile that didn’t involve his eyes. ‘My father remarried when I was a child. But when he died ten years ago, my stepmother and two half-siblings emigrated to Melbourne, where she has relatives.’

‘Do you have much contact with them? Phone? Email? Birthdays—that sort of thing?’

‘I do what is required.’

Juliette was starting to realise she didn’t know very much about the man she had married in such haste. Why hadn’t she tried a little harder to get him to open up? Her shock pregnancy had thrown her into a tailspin. And when she’d finally worked up the courage to call him and tell him, he had flown straight to her flat in London with a wedding proposal. A proposal she had felt compelled to accept in order to mitigate some of the shame she had caused her parents in getting herself ‘knocked up’ after a one-night stand.

She looked at him again, wondering how she could have been so physically close to someone without knowing anything about him. ‘How old were you when your mother died?’

Joe glanced at his watch and muttered a soft curse. ‘Isn’t there a drinks thing soon?’

‘Shoot.’ Juliette gave a much milder version of his curse. ‘I’m not dressed and I haven’t done my hair.’

He picked up a tendril of her mid-brown hair, trailing it gently through his fingers. ‘It looks beautiful the way it is.’ The pitch of his voice lowered and his eyes were a bottomless black.

Juliette swallowed and tried hard not to look at his mouth. ‘Ahem. You’re touching me. Remember the rules?’

He released her hair and stepped back from her with a mercurial smile. ‘How could I forget?’

CHAPTER THREE

JOE DROVE A hand through his own hair once Juliette had retreated to the bathroom. No touching. No kissing. Sure, he could abide by the rules. But he hadn’t realised it would be as difficult as this. It had been hard enough trying to erase the memory of her touch when he was living thousands of kilometres away. But sharing a suite with her this weekend was going to test his resolve in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

He hadn’t expected the chemistry to still be there. He hadn’t expected the hot, tight ache of desire to grip him so brutally. He hadn’t expected to feel anything other than guilt about how things had panned out between them. The guilt was still there, spreading cruel tentacles around his intestines like a poisonous strangling vine. Tentacles that crawled up into his chest and wrapped around his heart and squeezed, squeezed, squeezed like a savage fist.

Truth was, he’d been almost relieved when she hadn’t answered his texts and emails. It meant he didn’t have to face the train wreck he’d caused. The further along her pregnancy went, the longer he’d stayed away on business. Business others under his employ could have easily seen to. But no, he had wanted—needed—to throw himself into the distraction of work, because watching Juliette growing with his child had secretly terrified him. What if she died during childbirth? What if, like his mother, she had a complication and no one could save her?

Had he caused the loss of their baby by not being there? Had his absence caused Juliette unnecessary stress? Hindsight was all very well, but he had thought he was doing the right thing at the time. They weren’t in a love relationship. They had married for the sake of the baby and Juliette had seemed okay with that arrangement. Providing stability and security had been his focus.

His focus since their separation had been channelling his efforts into fundraising for a stillbirth research foundation. It had been his way of dealing with his own grief. He considered it far more productive than falling into a heap like his father had done. Joe wanted the money raised to help others, to prevent others from experiencing the devastation of losing a child at birth. Research was expensive and counselling services were always seriously underfunded. But that was changing as a result of his efforts. His own regular large donations along with the fundraising programme he had orchestrated would hopefully reduce the number of stillbirths across the globe.

Joe changed into his fresh clothes and unpacked the rest from his small travel bag and hung them in the wardrobe next to hers. He touched the silk sleeve of one of her tops, lifting it to his nose to smell the lingering scent of her signature perfume. For months after she’d left, he couldn’t go into the bedroom they had shared. He’d got his housekeeper to move his things into another room. A room without memories and triggers.

He slid the door closed on the wardrobe, wishing he could lock away his desire as easily. He’d wanted to kiss her. No doubt about that. His lips still burned with the need to feel the soft press of hers. Joe knew he was wrong for Juliette. He was relationship poison. He couldn’t seem to help destroying those he cared about. But seeing her again made him realise there was unfinished business between them. Was that why he hadn’t made more of a fuss about the booking mix-up? Yes, he’d been concerned about upsetting Damon’s young cousin, Celeste, but he might have found some way to resolve the situation even if he had to stay on the other side of the island. And, truth be told, he could have refused the invitation to be Damon’s best man in the first place and no one would have blamed him.

But he hadn’t because on some level, be it conscious or subconscious, he wanted to be here for the weekend on Corfu with Juliette. On neutral ground. Somewhere where there were no triggers and tripwires to the heartbreak of their past. It suited him to be in close proximity to her, to reassure himself he hadn’t totally destroyed her as well as their relationship.

A relationship that might have had a better chance if their baby had lived.

A tight ache spread through his chest when he thought of that lifeless little body. His baby girl with her little wizened pixie face, her tiny feet and hands, her permanently closed eyes.

Was there some sort of curse surrounding him and birth? His own birth had brought about his mother’s death. His birthday—the day in the year he dreaded more than any other—was the anniversary of his mother’s death. The very same day he had met Juliette in that London bar that had changed both their lives for ever.

The bathroom door opened and Juliette came out with her hair fashioned in a stylish knot on top of her head. ‘Bathroom’s all yours,’ she said, avoiding his gaze.

Joe swept his gaze over her candy-pink calf-length dress with its waist cinched in with a patent leather belt and her matching high heels that showcased her slender ankles. He had never met anyone who could look so effortlessly elegant. Whether she was wearing track pants and a sweatshirt or designer wear, she always took his breath away. And when she was naked he forgot to breathe at all. ‘You look stunning.’

Her creamy cheeks pooled with colour. ‘Thank you.’ Her gaze flicked away from his and she moved past him to get to the wardrobe. ‘I’ll just get my evening purse.’

Joe had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself touching her. The suite wasn’t large enough to keep a safe distance. It needed to be the size of a small nation for that. The suite was mostly open-plan with a king-sized bed dominating the bedroom area, with no door between that and the lounge area. No more than a metre or two from the bed was a sofa and single armchair and coffee table and there were minibar facilities near the windows to maximise the view over Barbati Beach. The en suite bathroom was luxuriously appointed but was hardly what anyone would call spacious. For a honeymoon, it would be ideal.

But they weren’t on a honeymoon.

Juliette opened the wardrobe and took her purse from one of the shelf compartments. He watched as her eyes went to his clothes hanging next to hers. Saw her teeth sink into her bottom lip and a small frown pull at her forehead.

‘Is that against the rules?’ Joe asked, leaning against the wall near her. ‘To have our clothes touching?’

She stiffened and then shut the wardrobe with a little more force than was necessary. Her cheeks were a fiery red, her grey-blue eyes reminding him of a storm-tossed sea. ‘We wouldn’t need rules if you would stop looking at me like that.’

‘How am I looking at you?’

She pursed her lips and put her chin up at a haughty height. ‘Like you want to touch me.’

‘I do want to touch you but the rules are the rules.’ Joe wanted to touch her so badly it was all he could do to keep his hands under control.

She swallowed and her blush deepened. She dropped her evening purse on the bed and adjusted the belt around her dress. ‘I should never have slept with you in the first place. It was totally out of character for me to do something like that.’

‘I know it was,’ Joe said, pushing himself away from the wall to approach her. ‘That’s why that night was so memorable.’

She frowned. ‘Are you saying…you found it special?’

He gave a crooked smile and, before he could stop himself, he stroked a lazy finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘I’d never met someone like you before.’

‘Because I wasn’t madly in love with you like most women are?’ Her eyes glittered with sparks of cynicism.

He traced the outline of her lush mouth, knowing he was breaking the rules but unable to resist the temptation. ‘You weren’t interested in my money or my status. You just wanted to be distracted from a bad day, just like I wanted to be.’

Her tongue swept over her lips and she gave another audible swallow. ‘Joe, we’re going to be late for the drinks thing.’

Right now, Joe didn’t care if they never made it to their friends’ wedding. Being with Juliette—breathing in her scent, feeling the softness of her lips under his fingertip—made his blood pound with longing. A slow drag began pulling at his groin—a primal need he had shut down, ignored, blocked out with work, pulsed to vibrant and undeniable life. He slid his hand to the nape of her neck, meshing his gaze with hers. ‘Why aren’t you telling me to stop touching you?’

She gave a shuddery breath and her gaze dipped to his mouth. ‘I—I don’t know…’ Her voice was whisper-soft.

He brought up her chin with his finger and locked her gaze with his. ‘I’ll tell you why, cara. Because deep down you want to be touched by me. You think a bunch of silly rules is going to damp down the explosive chemistry we still share?’ It certainly wasn’t damping down his. Not one little bit. He could feel the electric energy passing between them like a hot fizzing current. He could see it reflected in her eyes—the flicker of her eyelashes, the dart of her gaze to his mouth, the quick sweep of her tongue over her lips.

But then her gaze hardened and she placed her hand around his wrist and pulled it away from her face, shooting him a laser-like glare. ‘There is no chemistry. I don’t feel a thing where you’re concerned. Not a damn thing.’

He captured her hand and tugged her close against his body. ‘Want to put that to the test? One kiss. Let’s see what happens.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Her expression was scathing but her tone contained a trace of something else. Something that sounded very much like a dare.

Oh, he dared all right.

Joe breathed in the achingly familiar scent of her, brought his mouth as close to hers as he could without actually touching her lips. ‘Just one little kiss.’

‘You think I won’t be able to help myself, like the night we met? But I can and I will.’

‘Prove it.’

Her eyes went to his mouth. ‘I don’t need to prove anything to you.’

‘Prove it to yourself then.’

She wavered for a moment, her eyes going to his mouth and back to his eyes. Then her eyes glazed over with chilly determination. ‘Okay. I’ll show you how immune I am to you.’ She rose on tiptoe and planted a brief chaste kiss on his lips. She lowered her heels back to the floor and gave him an arch look. ‘See? No fireworks.’

Joe gave a soft chuckle and released her. ‘Probably just as well. I don’t think anyone, least of all Damon and Lucy, are going to believe we’ve reconciled.’

A frown pulled at her brow. ‘You’re not going to…?’ She clamped her mouth shut and turned away to reach for her purse on the bed. ‘So, what are we going to tell them?’ Her back was turned towards him, her hands fiddling with the clasp on her purse but he could see the tension in her slim back and shoulders as if she was bracing herself for his answer.

‘We’ll tell them the truth.’

She swung back round to face him, her expression wary. ‘The truth?’

‘That we’re mature adults who are in the process of an amicable separation. Sharing a room for a couple of nights will not be a problem for us.’

Her brows rose. ‘Amicable? Not a problem? Funny, but I don’t see it quite that way.’

‘Think about it, Juliette,’ Joe said. ‘We could go out there and pretend to be back together and then you’d have to allow me to touch you. Otherwise no one is going to buy it. I’d have to hold your hand, slip my arm around your waist, kiss you. You’d have to lie to your best friend. Is that what you want?’

Her small neat chin came up and her grey-blue eyes pulsated with anger. ‘I want this weekend to be over. That’s what I want.’

‘Yeah, well, I want that too.’

Then maybe he could move on with his life.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE WELCOME DRINKS party was on the terrace in front of the infinity pool that overlooked the beach. The area was decorated with lanterns with golden flickering candles inside and honeysuckle and orange blossom scented the evening air. A champagne tower was on a table festooned with ribbons and posies of flowers on each corner. Two waiters dressed in white shirts, black trousers and black bowties were on standby to hand around a delicious-looking array of finger food. A string quartet was playing at one end of the terrace with a backdrop of cascading scarlet bougainvillea. There was a large sandwich board framed by pink and white flowers with a large love heart in the centre with Lucy and Damon’s names written in beautiful calligraphy. Juliette had never seen such a romantic setting and tried not to compare it to her own wedding reception.

There certainly hadn’t been any sandwich boards with love hearts on them.

Celeste Petrakis, the wedding planner, a slim young woman in her early twenties with short spiky black hair, was carrying a tablet in her hand and came dashing over to Juliette and Joe as soon as they came out to the terrace.

‘Oh, my God, I’m so sorry but I think I’ve messed up your booking,’ Celeste said. ‘I only put down one J Allegranza on my list. I don’t know how I got that wrong. I know Damon told me you guys were separated but I must have forgotten. Blame it on my chemo brain or something. I’m so embarrassed I want to die.’ She clamped a hand over her mouth, her big brown eyes going wide as if she was worried she was going to get struck by lightning by a vengeful God. ‘Oops. Didn’t mean that. I’ve spent the last two years trying not to do that. But, seriously, I’m awfully embarrassed all the same.’

Joe stood close to Juliette but didn’t touch her. ‘It’s fine, Celeste. We have no problem sharing a room.’

Juliette forced her lips into the semblance of a smile. ‘Yes, indeed. So please don’t worry, Celeste. You’ve done a brilliant job of organising everything. I’ve never seen such a lovely setting for a wedding. It looks like it’s going to be an amazing weekend for Lucy and Damon.’

Celeste clasped a hand to her heart, her eyes dewy with emotion. ‘Does that mean…? Oh, how romantic! I’m so happy for you both. We’ll have a special toast for you guys later toni—’

‘No.’ Joe’s tone was as blunt as a sledgehammer on a slice of sponge cake. ‘We’re not back together.’

Celeste’s face fell and she bit down on her lip. ‘Oh…sorry, I misunderstood. Do you want me to organise a fold-out bed for you? I mean, you might not want to share—’

‘That would be wonderful, if there’s one available,’ Juliette said, trying to ignore the magnetic heat of Joe’s body within touching distance of hers. If she moved even a fraction of a millimetre her arm would brush against him. It was almost impossible to control the urge to do so.

Touch him. Touch him. Touch him.

The chant was trying to keep up with her racing pulse.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Celeste said, glancing between Joe and Juliette as if she couldn’t quite work them out. ‘I can only apologise again for this stuff-up. I would hate for you to be inconvenienced by my mishandling of—’

‘Don’t stress,’ Joe said, moving slightly, his arm brushing against the bare skin of Juliette’s, sending a shivery sensation through her flesh. ‘It’s not a problem.’

Juliette moved half a step away and gave the wedding planner a rictus smile. ‘We don’t want to draw attention away from Lucy and Damon. It’s their special weekend, not ours.’

‘Thank you for being so amazingly good about it.’ Celeste gave them a finger wave and dashed away to greet some other guests coming out to the terrace.

Juliette glanced up at Joe. ‘I need to speak to Lucy. She’ll stress if she thinks I’m not okay about this. It’ll ruin her wedding day for her if she’s worrying about me—’

‘Then pretend to be okay. It’s not that hard.’

She glowered at him. ‘Easy for you to say, Mr Show No Emotion.’

Joe shrugged and turned to look at the guests coming out to the terrace. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t have them.’ The bottom register of his voice throbbed with something she had never heard in it before.

Juliette frowned and chewed on the inside of her lip. He was always so aloof and distant. He was like a steep and rocky island she continually circled, looking for a place to anchor.

His eyes met hers in a lock that made the backs of her knees shiver. ‘This weekend could be a blessing in disguise. It could be a chance to sort out some of our issues. Not in the presence of other people, but while we’re alone.’

While we’re alone.

Juliette had to do everything in her power not to be alone with him. The only time she wanted to be alone with him was to hand him those hot-off-the-press divorce papers. ‘I don’t think our issues are the type that can get sorted out over a weekend, Joe. Not even over a lifetime.’

‘Maybe, but at least we should try. I have some regret over how I handled our relationship.’

He had regret? She didn’t want to hear about his supposed regret. She had regrets in their multitudes. She had known he had only married her out of duty and she had married him anyway. He had been there for her on his terms, not hers. It had been a fly-in, fly-out marriage that was doomed from the start. Being with him now reminded her of how stupid she had been.

She’d foolishly believed their baby would bond them—would help him fall in love with her as well as their child. She had wanted him to love her. Wasn’t that every girl’s dream? If he had loved her then it would have made her feel better about how they had come together in the first place. It would absolve some of her nagging guilt about her own feelings. She had fallen in lust with him. Simple and bald and blatant as that. Lust was what she still felt for him and it had to stop.

She had to stop fuelling the fire that blazed inside her.

Juliette sent him an icy look. ‘There isn’t anything you could say to me that would make me want to resume our relationship. Nothing. So don’t get any funny ideas that this weekend is going to magically fix what wasn’t right in the first place.’

A waiter approached with a tray of drinks and Juliette took a glass of champagne. She was acutely conscious of Joe standing beside her, his arm brushing hers as he reached for a drink sending another hot shiver coursing through her body. Nerves and other emotions she didn’t want to think about had her halfway through her drink before Joe had even taken a sip.

‘Did you hear me say I want us to get back together?’ There was a bite in his tone that nipped at her feminine pride. His eyes were espresso coffee dark and glittering with barely suppressed anger. ‘That’s the last thing I want.’

Juliette took another sip of champagne and then looked down at the remaining bubbles in her glass. ‘Good to know.’ It was good, wasn’t it? He wanted out. She wanted out. Why then was her chest feeling as if something heavy was pressing all the air out of her lungs? She rapid blinked to clear her suddenly blurry vision, her throat so tight it felt as if a champagne cork was stuck halfway down.

Joe released a long slow breath and moved closer again, resting his hand on the top of her shoulder. The anger had gone from his gaze, to be replaced by a brooding frown. ‘I apologise for being blunt but what’s done is done and can’t be undone.’

Juliette summoned her pride back on duty and brushed off his hand as if it was soiling her dress. ‘I thought we agreed not to touch?’ Her tone was sharp, her glare cutting.

‘Please welcome the bride and groom.’ Celeste’s cheery voice rang out and the string quartet accompanied Lucy and Damon as they came out onto the terrace to cheers and applause from the assembled guests.

The press of the other guests gathering for a better view brought Joe to stand shoulder to shoulder with Juliette to make more room. Juliette painted a smile on her lips while her elbow landed a surreptitious jab in his ribs. He gave a low grunt that sounded far sexier than she had bargained for and a wave of heat rose over her skin. The steel band of his arm came around her and his hand glided down to her hip in a hold that was blatantly possessive. She glanced at his left hand resting on her hip and saw the gold glint of his wedding ring. The ring that claimed her as his. She was conscious of every point of contact as if her body had been finely programmed to recognise his touch.

She could have been blindfolded and still known it was him.

Lucy and Damon approached arm in arm and with wide smiles. An aura of happiness surrounded them and Juliette wished some of it could brush off on her. Why couldn’t she have found happy-ever-after love?

‘Oh my gosh, I can’t believe my eyes,’ Lucy said, grabbing Juliette in a bone-crushing hug that almost spilt the rest of her champagne. ‘What’s going on? Don’t tell me you two are—?’

‘No.’ Joe’s strident tone served to underline the word and land another free kick to Juliette’s self-esteem. His arm dropped from around her waist and he added, ‘There was a mix-up with the accommodation and we’re trying to make it easy on Celeste, who double booked the room.’

‘Oh, well, then…’ Lucy’s eyes began to twinkle as brightly as the princess diamond ring on her finger. ‘I hope it won’t be too much of a problem for you sharing?’ There was a wink-wink-say-no-more quality to her tone.

‘No problem at all.’ Juliette kept her features under tight control but she couldn’t control the creep of warm colour she could feel pooling in her cheeks. Or the lingering hot tingle on her hip where Joe’s hand had rested just moments before.

Damon grinned and grasped Joe’s hand. ‘Who knows what a weekend on Corfu will do, eh? Great to have you both here to share our special day with us.’

‘I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,’ Joe said with an enigmatic smile.

After a moment or two, Lucy and Damon moved on to greet other guests, and Juliette lifted her glass to her lips and drained it. ‘No problem sharing a room. Who knew what a consummate liar I could be? Go me.’

Joe’s expression was shadowed by a contemplative frown. ‘As I said, we could use this weekend to help both of us move forward.’

She raised her brows, sending him a scathing look. ‘And how do you propose we do that? Hmm? Kiss and make up? Thanks, but no thanks.’

He took her empty glass off her and placed it on the stone balustrade nearby. ‘It would be a start, don’t you think?’ His darkened gaze dipped to her mouth as if he were recalling every kiss they had ever exchanged.