Irresistible Greeks: Passion and Promises: The Greek's Marriage Bargain / A Royal World Apart / The Theotokis Inheritance

Through sheer hard graft and dedication, he had revitalised the family shipping line and then added a chain of luxury shops. A newspaper and publishing house had increased the growing value of his portfolio, and during one economic downturn he had bought the rights of a screenplay written by an unknown student. It had captured the Zeitgeist of the time and My Crazy Greek Father had become the surprise global smash-hit of the year.

But the film had dug much deeper into the national psyche of Greece than the usual stereotypical jokes about sex before marriage and the benefits of moussaka. It had charted the rich and complex history of a beautiful and often misunderstood country. It had detailed wars and defeat. It had chronicled heartbreak and triumph—and had won a plethora of awards for it, included a much-coveted Oscar. The stardust of Hollywood had still been clinging to Xenon’s skin when Lexi had met him, some years later, when she had just embarked on an ill-judged solo career.

She knew that Xenon deserved his success. She knew he had worked hard for it and that he still did. But hadn’t his insatiable appetite for even more success helped drive a wedge between them? Hadn’t his ambition grown so big that it had dominated their lives and left her feeling pushed out and resentful?

She had been unable to be the wife he needed, or provide the heir which his fierce Greek pride had demanded. Xenon had wanted perfection and Lexi was a long way from perfection.

The lift pinged to a halt and she walked into the outer office to find a blonde—another blonde!—she didn’t recognise seated behind the large desk. Her predecessor had been there for years and Lexi had liked the middle-aged woman who had acted as gatekeeper to the Greek billionaire. It was a little disconcerting to see this new and rather glamorous incumbent rifling through a pile of papers with her shiny pink nails.

The blonde was looking at her and smiling. ‘Mrs Kanellis?’

Once again, the words sounded shockingly wrong. Like waking up and finding you were in someone else’s body. Lexi wondered how it would go down if she blurted out that she was not really Mrs Kanellis. That she and her estranged husband hadn’t shared a bed in almost two years and that Xenon had steadfastly refused to grant her the divorce she wanted. How would the blonde react to that?

But she said none of these things. Instead, she gave the polite smile which was expected of her even if behind it she was gritting her teeth. ‘That’s right.’

‘Mr Kanellis is expecting you. He said to ask whether you would like anything to drink after your journey.’

Tempted to ask for a mild sedative, Lexi nodded. ‘A cup of tea would be great.’

‘Tea it is. I’ll bring some right in.’

A discreet buzzer sounded on the desk and Lexi watched as the blonde smoothed her hand over her already immaculate hair. And that unconscious gesture told her more than a thousand words ever could, because she’d seen it so many times before. She’d seen it with shop assistants and bar staff, with airline stewardesses and female executives. It was a mixture of adoration and availability and it told her that Xenon could still get women adoring him, without even having to try.

‘You can go in now, Mrs Kanellis.’

‘Thanks.’ Tucking her bag under her arm, Lexi headed for the inner sanctum and walked into Xenon’s office, shutting the door behind her.

It was an impressive room. One hundred and eighty degrees of glass overlooked some of the most expensive real estate in the capital. In among the skyscrapers were dotted the roofs of famous monuments, looking so out of scale that they would have seemed more at home in a doll’s house.

But Lexi barely noticed the view. Xenon dominated that, just as he dominated everything else around him. He was seated at his desk, surveying her with the stillness of the natural predator. His black hair was tousled, as if he had been running impatient fingers through it. He’d loosened his tie—unless the smooth blonde had been responsible—revealing a glimpse of olive flesh which looked warm and inviting. It was only a little thing, but Lexi hadn’t been prepared for it. It was too intimate. It reminded her of too much. She knew that the hair began at the top of his chest and arrowed all the way down to his groin. She knew the way she used to scrape her fingernails through it and the way he used to moan in response. It was a mental picture she would have preferred not to have created and it made her cheeks grow hot.

‘Sit down,’ he said.

Her legs felt weak and she was glad to sink into the chair opposite his. Beneath the filmy folds of her dress, she pushed her knees together, looking at the various trophies around his office. There was the Oscar carelessly standing next to a set of leather-bound books by the great Greek philosophers. On one of the walls hung the platinum disc awarded for the colossal sales of his film’s soundtrack and there were several citations from various business schools. A small sculpture by a former Turner Prize winner stood next to a sofa on which he sometimes catnapped, if he was working all night. All in all, it was a very impressive room which spoke volumes about its occupant.

‘So.’ She looked at him with challenge in her eyes. ‘Here I am.’

‘Here you are,’ he agreed slowly.

‘Why here?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, why bring me to your office? So you could work right up to the last possible minute, I suppose. Or to remind me of what a successful man you are?’

‘Surely you don’t need reminding of that?’ he mocked.

‘Funnily enough, your achievements aren’t the first things I think about, on waking.’

‘It’s neutral territory,’ he said. ‘Plus you know that I never like to waste time. Why wait for you at the house, when I could be doing something constructive here?’

She met the hard gleam of his blue eyes. ‘So work still rules, does it?’ she questioned. ‘You’re still that man who can never say no to earning an extra dollar even though you’ve got the kind of wealth which could probably bankroll the economy of a small country.’

For a moment Xenon didn’t answer. Instead, he just mused on the fact that nobody had ever spoken to him with quite the same degree of insolence as his wife. He watched as she pressed her beautiful knees together and thought she looked a damned sight more respectable today than when he had turned up announced. No. That was the wrong word. You could never use the word ‘respectable’ about a woman he could imagine in various states of undress, every time he looked at her.

Lexi wearing nothing but a thong as she’d walked towards their bed.

Lexi sunbathing topless during their honeymoon.

Lexi connecting with something dark and irresistible deep inside him. Something which had enchanted and infuriated him in equal measure, because she had possessed an indefinable power over him and he had resented that.

The first time he’d seen her, he had wanted to ravish her. He had wanted to blot out the rest of the world, so that it was just her and him. It was as simple and as complicated as that and he could remember the moment as if it were yesterday.

She’d recently broken up from her band to launch herself into a solo career. One of her first gigs had been at a big charity function in Bel Air and Xenon had gone along because he’d been a fan of the charity, not of her. He didn’t like trashy women who flaunted their bodies and from what he’d heard and seen of The Lollipops all three women had done exactly that in order to get to the top.

With his current squeeze clinging to his arm, he had walked into the crowded ballroom with his prejudices intact and had seen a woman with bright red hair standing on the stage. He had watched her writhing around in a sequinned mini-skirt and had grown hard. He couldn’t ever remember feeling quite so turned on as he’d been by Lexi Gibson. It had been exquisite and captivating and so had she. His date forgotten, he had been bewitched by the pale-faced singer.

It had been more difficult than he would have imagined to facilitate a meeting with her. She’d given him the runaround and he got the feeling that she wasn’t playing games. She had refused to return his calls and he had been forced to attend her concerts like some run-of-the-mill fan. He’d sent her enough flowers to open a florist’s until she had sent him a short note, requesting that the flowers stop. Intrigued and entranced, he had agreed to her request, but only if she would agree to meet him for a drink first. One lousy drink, that was all it had been—but he hadn’t been expecting to come away from it still feeling completely smitten. But now it seemed that the feeling had been mutual...

They’d started dating—but it turned out she didn’t trust men. It had taken him three whole months to discover that she was a virgin, by which time his need to possess her had become total and complete.

He felt the sudden beat of heat at his groin because that need had never really gone away, had it? Even in the midst of all their rows, he had still wanted her. He wanted her now.

Shifting a little uncomfortably in his chair, he raised his eyebrows. ‘Your journey here was okay?’ he questioned.

‘As okay as any journey can be when you don’t particularly want to take it. And your female driver is superb.’

‘Isn’t she?’ The hint of a smile touched the edges of his mouth. ‘What about the goldfish you were so concerned about—how are they?’

She eyed him suspiciously. ‘They’re all right. They’ve moved in with one of my neighbours.’

‘And should I know their names? Just in case their welfare becomes a matter of overriding concern?’

‘Are you being sarcastic?’

‘Not at all.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘There is so much of your life that is now a mystery to me, Lex. I think it wise to learn as much as possible about my wife before I take her home to Greece. Their names?’

‘Bubble,’ she said. ‘And Squeak.’

He frowned. ‘That’s a meal you eat in England?’

Lexi nodded. A meal that he would certainly never have tasted, that was for sure. Frankly, she was amazed that he was interested. In the past, he would never have bothered to ask for such an inconsequential detail, and even if he had she probably would have skated over it. She’d known that her background appalled him and so she’d always played it down—even if doing so made her feel slightly guilty, as if she’d been ashamed of where she’d come from. As if she’d been denying who she really was.

But there was no point in doing that now. In fact, it might even work in her favour. Wouldn’t it make this ordeal easier if she reminded him of the fundamental differences between them? It would certainly make it easier for her if he didn’t look at her like that—with an expression of desire in his eyes which was making her feel curiously vulnerable.

Forcing herself to concentrate, she nodded. ‘That’s right. Bubble and Squeak is a traditionally English peasant food,’ she said. ‘It’s made of leftover vegetables—usually cabbage and potatoes—fried up together the next day.’

‘I fail to see the connection to goldfish.’

‘They’re cute names. That’s why.’ It wasn’t the whole story, of course, but she ran her thumb over her handbag before meeting his gaze with a defiant look. ‘Look, I haven’t come here to talk about my domestic arrangements, or my pets. I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain by agreeing to this ridiculous charade of being your “wife”, so how about you return the favour? Can I please see my brother before he leaves?’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’

‘Why not? Are you keeping him prisoner?’

‘If only life were that simple, Lex.’ He ran his thumb reflectively along the edge of his bottom lip. ‘Jason is already in mainland Greece, working at one of the Kanellis vineyards. I was afraid that seeing you might make him decide to opt for an easier, softer option. It might have encouraged him to tap you for another loan and we couldn’t have that.’

‘I told you that I’m no longer in a position to hand out loans,’ she said.

His eyes were curious now. ‘But don’t you miss the money?’ he asked. ‘I don’t mean the funds which were available to you as my wife, but before that. You were a very wealthy woman when we met.’

Lexi met the hard gleam of his eyes. She thought it was a funny question for him to ask now, when at the time he had resented her financial independence. He was one of those men who liked to dominate his woman in every way and that included financial. He’d told her that he preferred to buy her things, rather than having her buy them for herself. He’d said that was the man’s role: to protect and provide for his woman. It had been hard for someone like her to accept because she’d never relied on anyone but herself.

‘To be honest I don’t miss it at all,’ she said slowly. ‘I felt more like me once the bulk of the money was gone.’

‘I’m afraid you’ve lost me now.’

She met the cool question in his eyes. Why not tell him? It wasn’t as if it mattered any more. She was no longer that anxious woman who had been terrified he’d stop loving her if he saw through to the dark insecurity which gnawed away deep inside her.

‘Frugality is my default mechanism,’ she explained. ‘That’s what I grew up with. What I was used to. When you’re dirt poor it’s tough, but it has its benefits. It makes you hungry—and hunger was what drove my ambition. It’s what made me enter that TV reality show at the age of sixteen, even though everybody said I didn’t have a chance of winning. But I did win. I confounded all expectations and got myself a recording contract.’

He opened his mouth to reply but at that moment his assistant tapped on the door and entered the room, depositing a tray of tea on his desk. ‘Thank you, Kimberly,’ he said.

Kimberly smiled and Lexi watched as she walked back out of the office with the slightly self-conscious confidence of an attractive woman who was wearing a too-tight dress.

‘Has all your money gone?’ he continued.

‘Not all of it, no.’ Without being asked or offered, Lexi leaned forward and poured herself some tea and this small element of control helped refocus her thoughts. Adding milk and stirring two heaped teaspoons of sugar into her cup, she shook her head. ‘I have my own house—paid off in full—and enough investments to ensure I never starve. And I’m hoping to grow my jewellery design business so that it becomes a viable source of income.’

Xenon watched as she sat there drinking her tea, with the summer sunshine illuminating her hair so that it tumbled down around her shoulders like a pale waterfall. He thought she looked fragile and intensely feminine, yet the spectacles she wore gave her a serious and slightly geeky appearance. This was a new Lexi and he didn’t know how to handle her. He gave a bitter smile as he thought about the ashes of his marriage. Maybe he had never known.

He got up from his chair. ‘Come on. Let’s go,’ he said.

She finished her tea and put her cup down. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Home, of course.’ An odd kind of smile lifted his mouth. ‘We’re going home.’

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS DISORIENTATING being back in the house where Xenon had once carried her giggling over the threshold. Lexi stood in the high-ceilinged hallway of the beautiful nineteenth century building and felt little beads of sweat pricking at her forehead. She knew Xenon was watching her, just as he’d been watching her during the drive from his office to his home in the classical terrace overlooking Regent’s Park. She wondered if he had a clue how weird she found it being here again, after all this time. Did he realise that, behind the smile she’d managed to produce from nowhere, her heart was thudding with pain?

Glancing around the hall, she tried to concentrate on the practical—telling herself that it was only bricks and mortar. But it seemed so much more than that. The air was scented with cinnamon and the walls were hung with beautiful paintings, many of them depicting Greece. There was one with the famous view of the St Nicolas Bay, which could be seen from the terrace of the Kanellis estate in Rhodes. She’d always loved that one.

Silken rugs from the East were strewn over the polished floors and the overriding impression was one of solid wealth and stability. But the décor was as masculine as she remembered and little seemed to have changed since last she’d been there.

Lexi gave a wry smile. This had been their home but it had never really felt like her home. Her sometimes brash and streetwise persona had deserted her when it came to soft furnishings and the truth was that she’d been intimidated by what to put in the Grade I listed building. She’d been terrified that her lack of historical knowledge would cause her to make some basic error of taste, which would have everyone laughing at her. That was why she’d never dared put her mark on the house. Why she hadn’t bought so much as a single vase when she’d lived here.

‘It looks exactly the same,’ she observed as she brought her gaze back to rest on his face. ‘You haven’t done much to it.’

‘No.’ His expression suddenly became closed.

‘Why not?’

‘Well, masterminding the Kanellis empire takes up most of my time. You know how it is, Lex.’

‘Of course. How could I ever forget something as fundamental as that?’ She kept her words as flippant as his. ‘My mother was an alcoholic and I married a workaholic. Must be something in me that brings out the obsessive in a person.’

He stiffened, as if her words had shocked him—and maybe they had. ‘Why are you saying something like that?’

‘Because it’s the truth and neither of us have to pretend any more. We both know I was the world’s most unsuitable wife for you. I’m just reminding us of one of the reasons why.’

He saw the sudden sharp anxiety on her face and something inside him wanted to wipe it away. ‘Stop winding yourself up for no reason,’ he said gently. ‘Try taking a deep breath and calm down.’

‘You think that being back here is contributing to my levels of serenity?’

‘I don’t think anything could do that when you’re so uptight. Come on, let’s go and sit down and you can relax.’

Having little choice but to obey, she followed him into the garden room at the back of the house, the one which had always been her favourite. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose—to remind her of all the things she’d lost?

Two green velvet sofas overlooked a garden filled with white flowers. White roses scrambled up a far stone wall and tall white daisies stood behind neat hedges of white lavender. She walked over to the French windows and unlocked them, and a mixture of scents and the sound of birdsong filtered into the room.

It felt unbearably poignant. She used to sit here during her second pregnancy, making plans and knitting minuscule little bootees—even though nobody else she knew ever knitted. While Xenon was away on business she would dream about what it would be like when their baby was born. When, magically, he would let go of his heavy workload and the three of them would go walking in the nearby park, just like a proper family.

She turned back to find Xenon’s gaze fixed on her and for a split second she thought she saw a flash of understanding in his eyes. But that was nothing but an illusion. She knew that.

Xenon didn’t understand how she’d felt—understanding women wasn’t something he had been brought up to do. He had fixed and old-fashioned views about the opposite sex and the way they should be treated. He wasn’t intentionally cruel, just thoughtless. Women existed to look pretty and have sex with and produce strapping sons and pretty daughters. But she couldn’t even do that bit right, could she?

She realised how quiet the house was; none of the usual staff had appeared offering drinks. There was no smiling Phyllida—his long-serving housekeeper—eager to do her master’s bidding. No discreet sounds of food being prepared in the large basement kitchen. They seemed to be completely alone.

‘So where is everybody?’ she asked. ‘Is Phyllida still with you?’

‘Indeed she is. Her daughter has married an Englishman, so she has no intention of moving, but I sent her and the rest of the staff over to Rhodes to help prepare for the christening. I thought you might prefer to acclimatise yourself before having to face everyone again.’

‘Is that what you call it?’ she questioned.

‘It might help if you tried to relax a little, instead of looking like a moth dazzled by bright lights. Pretend they’re spotlights instead. You’re used to those.’

‘Not any more, I’m not!’ she retorted.

Slowly, she walked around the room, running her fingers across pieces of furniture as if she were reacquainting herself with them, but in reality moving away from the infinitely more disturbing spotlight of his gaze.

She felt like someone visiting one of those museums where rooms were created to represent different eras. She felt as if she’d stepped back into the past. There was that exquisite bowl from China and a carved piece of African wood, which she remembered from her days as mistress of the house, but the silver gleam of a photo-frame was a new addition and contained a photo of a baby. A tiny baby with jet-black hair and a snub button for a nose.

‘That’s Ianthe,’ Xenon was saying. ‘My niece.’

Sadness welled up inside her and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do to stop it. She wondered if he had somehow forgotten, or whether he just never stopped to think that their own little boy would be two now. That if things had been different, he might have been running around in that garden—swiping at the tall daisies with a chubby little fist. If he had lived.

But no—Xenon didn’t seem to have made that fundamental connection. It didn’t seem to have occurred to him that a new Kanellis baby might make her yearn for the babies who would only ever be memories. He had never talked about it at the time. He had closed himself off from her and she had felt as if an invisible wall had slid down between them. Why would he want to talk about it now, when to him it was simply something from the past? A disappointment, yes, but something he would have moved on from with that restless shark-like nature of his.

‘She’s beautiful,’ said Lexi brightly.

‘Yes. She is very beautiful.’

But Xenon couldn’t help noticing the distracted way she was pushing her fingers through her hair. And some age-old instinct made him want to take her in his arms and stroke away some of the brittleness which was making her hold herself like an unexploded grenade.

He hadn’t touched her since she had lost the second baby. She hadn’t wanted him to and, if the truth were known, it had seemed somehow obscene to touch her intimately after what had happened. He had found it easier to give her the space he’d thought she’d needed and she had seemed to want that, too. Until he’d realised that they’d each been locked in their own, private sadness. That it had made a wedge between them which could not be filled. She had left him soon afterwards and for a long time his anger at her desertion had eclipsed all other feelings. But later they had returned, and when they had...

His determination to get her here had been fuelled by those feelings and for once in his life he hadn’t really thought beyond that. He hadn’t thought past that first moment of triumph of having her exactly where he wanted her.

But now?

Now he realised that it was more complicated than he had anticipated. He still wanted her, yes—he just hadn’t realised quite how much. And deep down, he wondered if it was too late. She was staring at him with a mixture of defiance and wariness, like a small trapped animal—and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle her.

‘You might want to go and freshen up,’ he suggested. ‘And decide where you’d like to sleep.’

Their eyes met and Lexi felt the sudden tension between them as he dropped the word into the conversation like a rock into a pool. She forced a smile. The kind she used to use if she was being interviewed and wanted to keep the journalist at a distance. A smile which said don’t you dare come too close.