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Claiming My Hidden Son
Maya Blake
My contract bride’s secret… …is about to turn my world upside down! My marriage to Calypso was simply business. Until our unexpectedly passionate wedding night shook us both! Unwilling to muddy our convenient arrangement with such inconvenient emotions, I reluctantly left. Now discovering the baby in my estranged wife’s arms is mine, it’s about securing my legacy. I will claim my son and again enjoy the one thing Calypso cannot hide—the chemistry that still sizzles between us…


My contract bride’s secret…
…will change everything!
My marriage to Calypso was simply business—satisfying the terms of a family arrangement. Until our unexpectedly passionate wedding night shook us both! Falling for my convenient bride was a risk I couldn’t entertain. So, I left
Now, after discovering the baby in Calypso’s arms is mine, I will claim my son. But no longer a shy innocent, my estranged wife is stronger and even more captivating! This will be the negotiation of a lifetime with the woman who’s turning my world upside down…
MAYA BLAKE’s hopes of becoming a writer were born when she picked up her first romance at thirteen. Little did she know her dream would come true! Does she still pinch herself every now and then to make sure it’s not a dream? Yes, she does! Feel free to pinch her, too, via Twitter, Facebook or Goodreads! Happy reading!
Also by Maya Blake (#u686479aa-33b3-5edc-a721-77748ecc78bd)
A Diamond Deal with the Greek
Signed Over to Santino
The Di Sione Secret Baby
The Boss’s Nine-Month Negotiation
Pregnant at Acosta’s Demand
The Sultan Demands His Heir
His Mistress by Blackmail
Crown Prince’s Bought Bride
An Heir for the World’s Richest Man
Bound by the Desert King collection
Sheikh’s Pregnant Cinderella
Rival Brothers miniseries
A Deal with Alejandro
One Night with Gael
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Claiming My Hidden Son
Maya Blake


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-08839-8
CLAIMING MY HIDDEN SON
© 2019 Maya Blake
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Cover (#ue170c724-74e7-5c34-8a73-4b08ada0ba54)
Back Cover Text (#u1a7bb1ef-fc17-5226-b1b4-6c5006daac1f)
About the Author (#ue4a83aef-1dc0-519c-9847-05d4ed21890d)
Booklist (#u48b65bc9-ca1d-584d-8113-1f6f06cc4897)
Title Page (#u8c50b91a-3987-5bd6-ad41-77a8a2efcbc5)
Copyright (#u116a2aca-ec38-50a1-99de-8bc9193d5b51)
Note to Readers
PROLOGUE (#ufa0bb912-f364-5f79-a760-3698ebfe5518)
CHAPTER ONE (#ufc3b5400-a723-5d5e-b588-0b0baf4bd329)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9ed082f2-ba5d-57e7-a588-a22c7c45e198)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE (#u686479aa-33b3-5edc-a721-77748ecc78bd)
THE DRUMMING IN my ears was loud. So loud I had the fleeting thought that I was on the verge of suffering a stroke. Of doing myself irreparable harm and comprehensively ending this debacle once and for all.
But that would be too easy.
And the headline…
I could see it now.
Axios Xenakis Suffers Stroke Due to Family Pressures!
They would have no clue as to the unreasonable part, of course. Despite the media outlets lauding the story of the Xenakis near-ruin to phenomenal rise on a regular basis these days, they would be swift to jump on past flaws. Old skeletons would be dragged out of closets. I would be deemed weak. Broken. Not quite up to the task of managing a global conglomerate.
Just like my father.
Just as my grandfather had been falsely labelled after that one risky move that had seen all his hard work whittled away to almost nothing.
He’d had to bear that one misfortune all the way to his grave.
Once a titan of his industry, a simple decision to align himself with the wrong partner had decimated him, leaving the Xenakis name with a stench of failure that had lingered long after his death, causing insidious damage.
Damage that had taken back-breaking hard work to reverse, with my refusal to allow my family name to sink without a trace spurring me to seek daring solutions.
The Xenakis name was no longer one to be ashamed of. Now it was synonymous with success and innovation—a global conglomerate that Fortune 500 companies vied to be associated with.
However, the solution being proposed to me now was one set to resurrect the unsavoury ghosts of the past, with their talons of barefaced greed—
‘Ax, are you listening? Did you hear what Father said?’ asked Neo, my brother.
‘Of course I heard it. I’m not deaf,’ I replied, with more than a snap to my voice.
‘Thank God for that—although you do a great stone statue impression.’
I ignored Neo and fixed my gaze on the man seated behind the large antique desk. My father was studying me with a mixture of regret and apprehension. He knew my precise thoughts on the subject being discussed.
No, not discussed.
It was being thrust upon me.
‘No,’ I replied firmly. ‘There has to be another way.’
The tension in the room elevated, but this was too serious for me to mince my words. Too serious to let the elephant that always loomed in the room on occasions like this cloud my judgement.
I simply couldn’t allow the fact that my grandfather had chosen me as his successor instead of my father to get in the way of this discussion. Nor could I allow the resentment and guilt that had always tainted my relationship with my father to alter my view on what was being proposed.
What was done was done. I’d turned the tides and restored the fortunes of my family. For that even my father couldn’t object.
Which was why I was a little surprised when he emphatically shook his head.
‘There isn’t. Your grandfather was of sound mind when he made the arrangement.’
‘Even though he was judged otherwise in other areas?’
Barely fettered bitterness filtered through my voice. The injustices dealt to my grandfather and mentor, the man who taught me everything I know, still burned like acid all these years after his untimely death.
‘Now is not the time to reopen old wounds, Axios,’ my father said, jaw clenched.
My quiet fury burned even as I accepted his words. ‘I agree. Now is the time to discuss ways to get me out of this nonsense.’
And it was nonsense to expect an arrangement like this to hold water.
‘A sweeping agreement where the other party gets to call the shots whenever they like? How come the lawyers haven’t ripped this to shreds?’ I demanded, striving to keep a tighter rein on my ire.
My father’s lips firmed. ‘I’ve spent the last month discussing it with our counsel. We can fight it in court, and probably win, but it’ll be a protracted affair. And is now really the time to draw adverse publicity to the company? Or drag your grandfather’s name through the mud again for that matter?’
My own lips flattened as again I grimly accepted he was right. With Xenakis Aeronautics poised for its biggest global expansion yet, the timing was far from ideal.
Which was exactly what Yiannis Petras had banked on.
‘You mentioned you’d offered him ten million euros and he refused? Let’s double the offer,’ I suggested.
Neo shook his head. ‘I already tried. Petras is hell-bent on Option A or Option B.’
The breath left my lungs in a rush. ‘Over my dead body will I go for Option A and hand over twenty-five percent of Xenakis Aeronautics,’ I replied coldly. ‘Not for the paltry quarter of a million his father bailed Grandpapa out with, while almost crippling him with steep interest repayments!’
The company I’d spent gruelling years saving was now worth several billion euros.
My brother shrugged. ‘Then it’s Option B. A full and final one hundred million euros, plus marriage to his daughter for minimum term of one year.’
A cold shudder tiptoed down my spine.
Marriage.
To a bride I didn’t want and with a connection to a family that had brought mine nothing but misery, pain and near destitution.
During the formative years of my life I witnessed how a fall from grace could turn family members against each other. Clawing my own family out of that quagmire while other factions sneered and expected me to fail had opened my eyes to the true nature of relationships.
Outwardly, the Xenakis were deemed a strong unit now, but the backbiting had never gone away. The barely veiled expectation that everything I’d achieved would be brought down like a pile of loose bricks and that history would repeat itself was a silent challenge I rose to each morning.
While my extended family now enjoyed the fruits of my labour, and even tripped over themselves to remain in my good graces, deep down I knew a simple misstep was all it would take for their frivolous loyalties to falter.
I didn’t even blame them.
How could I when my own personal interactions had repeatedly taken the same route? Each liaison I entered into eventually devolved into a disillusioning level of avarice and status-grabbing.
It was why my relationships now had a strict time limit of weeks. A few months, tops. Which made the thought of tying myself to one woman for twelve long months simply…unthinkable.
My chest tightened, and the urge to rail at my grandfather for putting me in this position seared me with shame before I suppressed it.
He’d been in an equally impossible position. I knew first-hand what the toll of keeping his family together had cost him—had watched deep grooves etch his grey face once vibrant with laughter and seen his shoulders slump under the heavy burden of loss.
Yes, he should have told me about this Sword of Damocles hanging over my head. But he was gone. Thanks to the ruthless greed of the Petras family. A family hell-bent on extracting another pound of flesh they didn’t deserve.
‘The hundred million I understand. But why insist on marriage to the daughter?’ I asked my brother as his words pierced the fog of my thoughts.
Neo shrugged again. ‘Who knows how men like Petras think? Maybe he just wants to offload her. The clout that comes from marrying into the Xenakis family isn’t without its benefits,’ he mused.
I shuddered, the reminder that, to most people, my family and I were nothing but meal tickets sending a shock of bitterness through me.
‘And did you meet this woman I’m to tie myself to?’
He nodded. ‘She’s…’ He stopped and smiled slyly. ‘I’ll let you judge for yourself.’ His gaze left mine to travel over my grey pinstriped suit. ‘But I’m thinking you two will hit it off.’
Before I could demand an explanation my father leaned forward. ‘Enough, Neo.’ My father’s gaze swung to me, steel reflected in his eyes. ‘We can’t delay any longer. Yiannis Petras wants an answer by morning.’
The pressure gripping my nape escalated—the effect of the noose closing round it ramping up my discord. Marriage was the last thing I wanted. To anyone. But especially to a Petras. Both my grandparents and my parents had been strained to breaking point because of the Petras family’s actions, with ill-health borne of worry taking my grandmother before her time too.
There had to be another way…
‘What’s her name?’ I asked my father—not because I cared but because I needed another moment to think. To wrap my head around this insanity.
‘Calypso Athena Petras. But I believe she responds to Callie.’
Beside me, Neo smirked again. ‘A dramatic name for a dramatic situation!’
I balled my fist and attempted to breathe through the churning in my gut. First they’d forced my grandfather’s business into the ground, until he’d broken his family right down the middle by working himself into an early grave. Now this…
‘Show me the agreement.’ I needed to see it for myself, find a way to assimilate what I’d been committed to.
My father slid the document across the desk. I read it, my fingers clenching as with each paragraph the noose tightened.
Twelve months of my life, starting from the exchange of vows, after which either party would be free to divorce.
Twelve months during which the Petras family who, by a quirk of karma—if you believe in that sort of thing—had fallen on even harder times than they’d condemned my family to would be free to capitalise fully on their new status of wealth and privilege by association.
My lips twisted. I intended to have my lawyers draft divorce papers before I went anywhere near a church.
I exhaled, knowing my subconscious had already accepted the situation.
‘Don’t overthink it, brother. You’re thirty-three next month. This will be over by your thirty-fourth birthday. If you bite the bullet,’ Neo offered helpfully.
Slowly, I dragged myself back under control. ‘I’ve worked too hard and too long to restore our family back to where it belongs to lose it to a greedy opportunist. If there’s no other way…tell Petras we have a deal.’
My father nodded, relieved, before he sent me another nervous glance. The kind that announced there was something more equally unsavoury to deliver.
‘What now?’ My patience was hanging by a thread.
‘Besides paying for the wedding, we also need to present the family with a…a dowry of sorts. Petras has asked for Kosima.’
I surged to my feet, uncaring that my chair tipped over. ‘Excuse me?’
My father’s face tightened. ‘No one has stepped foot on the island since your grandfather passed—’
‘That doesn’t mean I want to hand it over to the son of the man who caused his death!’
A flash of pain dimmed his eyes. ‘We don’t know that to be strictly true.’
‘Don’t we? Did you not see for yourself the pressure he was under? He only started drinking after the problems with Petras started. Is it any wonder his heart failed?’
‘Easy, brother,’ Neo urged. ‘Father is right. The house is rotting away and the land around it is nothing but a pile of weeds and stones.’
But I was beyond reason. Beyond furious at this last damning request.
‘Grandpapa loved that island. It belongs to us. I’m not going to hand it over to Petras. Isn’t it enough that he’s imposing this bilious arrangement on us?’
‘Is it enough for you to drag your heels on this last hurdle?’ My father parried.
Unable to remain still, I strode to the window of the building that housed the headquarters of Xenakis Aeronautics, the global airline empire I’d headed for almost a decade. For a full minute I watched traffic move back and forth on the busy Athens streets while I grappled with this last condition.
I sensed my brother and father approach. I didn’t acknowledge them as they positioned themselves on either side of me and waited.
Waited for the only response that I could conceivably give. The words burned in my throat. Left a trail of ash on my tongue. But it had to be done. I had to honour my grandfather’s request, no matter my personal view on it. Or I’d risk everything he’d built. Risk mocking the sacrifice that had taken the ultimate toll.
‘Tell Petras he has a deal.’
My father’s hand arrived on my shoulder in silent gratitude, after which he exited quietly.
Neo chose more exuberant congratulations, but even then I barely felt him slap my shoulder.
‘Think of it this way. For twelve months you’ll be free of all the scheming socialites and supermodels who’ve been falling over themselves to extract a commitment from you. I’ll happily carry that burden for you instead.’
‘Unless you wish to date one of those supermodels whilst sporting a black eye, I suggest you leave my office immediately,’ I growled.
My brother’s laughter echoed in my ears long after he’d slammed the door behind him.
But long before the echo died I made another silent vow to myself. Petras and his kin would pay for what they’d done to my family. Before the stipulated year of marriage was out they’d regret tangling with the Xenakis family.

CHAPTER ONE (#u686479aa-33b3-5edc-a721-77748ecc78bd)
‘SMILE, CALYPSO. IT’S the happiest day of your life!’
‘Here, let me put some more blusher on your cheeks…you’re so pale. Perhaps a bit more shadow for your beautiful eyes…’
Beneath the endless layers of white tulle that some faceless stranger had deemed the perfect wedding gown material and gone to town with my fingers bunched into fists. When the tight clenches didn’t help, I bit the tip of my tongue and fought the urge to scream.
But I was past hysteria. That unfortunate state had occurred two weeks prior, when my father had informed me just how he’d mapped out the rest of my life. How it was my turn to help restore our family’s honour.
Or else.
The cold shivers racing up and down my spine had become familiar in the last month, after a few days spent in denial that my father would truly carry out his intentions.
I’d quickly accepted that he would.
Years of bitterness and humiliation and failure to emulate his ruthless father’s dubious acclaim had pushed him over the edge once and for all.
The soft bristles of the blusher brush passed feverishly over my cheeks. The make-up artist determined to transform me into an eager, blushing, starry-eyed bride.
But I was far from eager and a million miles away from starry-eyed.
The only thing they’d got right in this miserable spectacle was the virginal white.
If I’d had a choice that too would have been a lie. At twenty-four I knew, even in my sheltered existence, that being a virgin was a rare phenomenon. At least now I realised why my father had been hell-bent on thwarting my every encounter with the opposite sex. Why he’d ruthlessly vetted my friendships, curtailed my freedom.
I’d believed my choices had been so abruptly limited since the moment my mother fell from grace. Since she returned home the broken prodigal wife and handed my father all the weapons he needed to transform himself from moderately intolerable to fearsome tyrant. I thought I’d been swept along by the merciless broom of wronged party justice, but he’d had a completely different purpose for me.
A purpose which had brought me to this moment.
My wedding day.
The next shudder coagulated in my chin, making it wobble like jelly before I could wrestle my composure back under control.
Luckily the trio of women who’d descended on our house twenty-four hours ago were clucking about pre-wedding nerves, then clucking some more about how understandable my fraught emotions were, considering who my prospective husband was.
Axios Xenakis.
A man I’d never met.
Sure, like everyone in Greece I knew who he was. A wildly successful airline magnate worth billions and head of the influential Xenakis family. A family whose ill fortune, unlike mine, had been reversed due the daring innovation of its young CEO.
It was rumoured that Axios Xenakis was the kind of individual whose projections could cause stock markets to rise or fall. The various articles I’d read about him had boggled my mind—the idea that any one person could wield such power and authority was bewildering. To top it off, Axios Xenakis was drop-dead gorgeous, if a little fierce-looking.
Everything about the man was way too visceral and invasive. Just a simple glance at his image online had evoked the notion that he could see into my soul, glean my deepest desires and use them against me. It was probably why he was often seen in the company of sophisticated heiresses and equally influential A-listers.
Which begged the question—why the Petras family? More specifically, why me?
What did a man who dated socialites and heiresses on a regular basis, as was thoroughly documented in the media, have to gain by shackling himself to me?
I knew it had something to do with the supreme smugness my father had been exhibiting in the last several weeks but he had refused to disclose. Somehow, behind the sneers and bitterness whenever the Xenakis name came up over the years, my father had been scheming. And that scheming had included me.
In all my daydreams about attaining my freedom, marriage hadn’t featured anywhere. I wanted the freedom to dictate who I socialised with, what I ate, the pleasure to paint my watercolours without fear of recrimination, without judgement… The freedom to live life on my terms.
The hope of one day achieving those things had stopped me from succumbing to abject misery.
But not like this!
I forced my gaze to the mirror and promptly looked away again. My eyes were desolate pools, my cheeks artificially pink with excess rouge. My lips were turned down, reflecting my despair since learning that I was promised to a stranger. One who’d demanded a wedding within twenty-eight days.
My flat refusal had merely garnered a cold shrug from my father, before he had gone for the jugular—my one weakness.
My mother.
As if summoned by my inner turmoil, the electric whine of a wheelchair disturbed the excited chatter of the stylists. The moment they realised the mother of the bride had entered the bedroom, their attention shifted to her.
Taking advantage of the reprieve, I surreptitiously rubbed at my cheeks with a tissue, removing a layer of blusher. The icy peach lipstick disappeared with the second swipe across my lips, leaving me even paler than before but thankfully looking less of a lost, wide-eyed freak. Quickly hanging the thick lace veil over my face to hide the alteration, I stood and turned, watching as the women fawned over my mother.
Iona Petras had been stunningly beautiful once upon a time. Growing up, I was in awe of her statuesque beauty, her vivacity and sheer joy for life. Her laughter had lit up my day, her intelligence and love of the arts fuelling my own appreciation for music and painting.
Now, greying and confined, she was still a beautiful woman. But along with her broken body had come a broken spirit no amount of pretending or smiling, or even gaining the elevated position as mother of the bride, soon to marry a man most deemed a demigod, could disguise.
She withstood the stylists’ ministrations without complaint, her half-hearted smile only slipping when her eyes met mine. Within them I saw ravaging misery and the sort of unending despair that came with the life sentence she’d imposed on herself by returning when she should have fled.
But, just as I’d had to remain here because of her, I knew my mother had returned home because of me. And somewhere along the line Iona Petras had accepted her fate.
‘Leave us, please,’ she said to the stylists, her voice surprisingly steely.
The women withdrew. She wheeled herself closer, her face pinched with worry. For the longest minute she stared at me.
‘Are you all right?’
I tensed, momentarily panicked that she’d learned what I’d hidden from her for the last few weeks. As much as I’d tried to ignore the ever-growing pain in my abdomen, I couldn’t any more. Not only had it become a constant dull ache, it had become a reminder that even health-wise my life wasn’t my own. That I might well be succumbing to the very real ailment that had taken my grandmother—
‘Callie? Are you ready?’
Realising she was talking about the wedding ceremony, I felt the urge to succumb to hysteria pummel me once again. As did the fierce need to be selfish just this once…to simply flee and let the chips fall where they may.
‘Is anyone ever ready to marry a man they’ve never met?’ I asked. ‘Please tell me you’ve found out why he’s demanding I do this?’ I pleaded.
Eyes a shade darker than my own lapis-lazuli-coloured ones turned mournful as she shook her head. ‘No. Your father still refuses to tell me. My guess is that it has something to do with your grandfather and old man Xenakis.’ Before I could ask what she meant, she continued, ‘Anyway, Yiannis will be looking for me, so I need to be quick.’
She reached inside the stylish designer jacket that matched her lavender gown and produced a thick cream envelope, her fingers shaking as she stared at it.
‘What’s that?’ I asked when she made no move to speak.
Within her gaze came a spark of determination I hadn’t seen in years. My heart leapt into my throat as she caught my hand in hers and squeezed it tight.
‘My sweet Callie, I know I’ve brought misery to your life with my actions—’
‘No, Mama, you haven’t. I promise,’ I countered firmly.
She stared at me. ‘I’m not sure whether to be proud or to admonish you for being such a good liar. But I know what I’ve done. My selfishness has locked you in this prison with me when you should be free to pursue what young girls your age ought to be doing.’ Her fingers tightened on mine. ‘I want you to make me a promise,’ she pleaded, her voice husky with unshed tears.
I nodded because…what else could I do? ‘Anything you want, Mama.’
She held out the envelope. ‘Take this. Hide it in the safest place you can.’
I took it, frowning at the old-fashioned cursive lettering spelling out my name. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s from your grandmother.’
‘Yiayia Helena?’ A tide of sorrow momentarily washed over me, my heart still missing the grandmother I’d lost a year ago.
My mother nodded. ‘She said I’d know when you needed it. And even if I’m wrong…’
She paused, a faraway look in her eyes hinting that she was indulging in all those might-have-beens that sparked my own desperate imagination. When she refocused, her gaze moved dully over my wedding dress.
‘Even if this…alliance turns out to be tolerable, it’ll help to know you were loved by your grandmother. That should you need her she’ll be there for you the way I wasn’t.’
I held on tighter to her hand. ‘I know you love me, Mama.’
She shook her head, tears brimming her eyes. ‘Not the way a mother should love her child, without selfish intentions that end up harming her. I took the wrong turn with you. I left you alone with your father when I should have taken you with me. Maybe if I had—’ She stopped, took a deep breath and dabbed at her tears before braving my worried stare again. ‘All I ask is that you find a way to forgive me one day.’
‘Mama—’ I stopped when she gave a wrenching sob.
Her gaze dropped to the envelope in my hand. ‘Hang on to that, Callie. And don’t hesitate to use it when you need it. Promise me,’ she insisted fervently.’
‘I… I promise.’
She sniffed, nodded, then abruptly turned the wheelchair and manoeuvred herself out of my bedroom.
Before I could process our conversation I was again surrounded by mindless chatter, unable to breathe or think. The only solid thing in my world became the envelope I clutched tightly in my hand. And when I found that within the endless folds of tulle the designer had fashioned a pocket, I nearly cried with relief as I slipped the envelope into it.
Even without knowing its contents, just knowing it came from my grandmother—the woman who’d helped me stand up to my father’s wrath more times than I could count, who’d loved and reassured me on a daily basis during my mother’s year-long absence when I was fifteen years old—kept me from crumbling as my father arrived and with a brisk nod offered his stiff arm, ordered me to straighten my spine…and escorted me to my fate.
The chapel was filled to the brim, according to the excited chatter of the household staff, and as my father led me out to a flower-bedecked horse-drawn carriage I got the first indication of what was to come.
Over the last three weeks I’d watched with a sense of surrealism as construction crews and landscapers descended on our little corner of the world to transform the church and surrounding area from a place of rundown dilapidation into its former whitewashed charming glory.
The usually quiet streets of Nicrete, a sleepy village in the south of the island of Skyros, the place generations of the Petras family had called home, buzzed with fashionably dressed strangers—all guests of Axios Xenakis. With the main means of getting on and off the island being by boat, the harbour had become a place of interest in the last few days.
Every hotel and guest house on the island was booked solid. Expensive speedboats and a handful of super-yachts had appeared on the horizon overnight, and now bobbed in the Aegean beneath resplendent sunshine.
Of course the man I was to marry chose to do things differently.
My carriage was halfway between home and the church when the loud, mechanical whine of powerful rotors churned the air. Children shouted in excitement and raced towards the hilltop as three sleek-looking helicopters flew overhead to settle on the newly manicured lawns of the park usually used as recreational grounds for families. Today the whole park had been cordoned off—evidently to receive these helicopters.
Beneath the veil I allowed myself a distasteful moue. But the barrier wasn’t enough to hide my father’s smug smile as he watched the helicopters. Or his nod of satisfaction as several distinguished-looking men and designer-clad women alighted from the craft.
I averted my face, hoping the ache in my heart and the pain in my belly wouldn’t manifest itself in the hysteria I’d been trying to suppress for what seemed like for ever. But I couldn’t prevent the words from tumbling from my lips.
‘It’s not too late, Papa. Whatever this is… Perhaps if you told me why, we can find a way—’
‘I have already found a way, child.’
‘Don’t call me a child—I’m twenty-four years old!’
That pulse of rebellion, which I’d never quite been able to curb, eagerly fanned by Yiayia when she was alive, slipped its leash. She’d never got on well with my father, and in a way standing up to him now, despite the potential fallout for my mother, felt like honouring her memory.
His eyes narrowed. ‘If you wanted to help then you should’ve taken that business degree at university, instead of the useless arts degree you’re saddled with.’
‘I told you—I’m not interested in a corporate career.’
Nor was I interested in being constantly reminded that I wasn’t the son he’d yearned for. The one he’d hoped would help him save Petras Industries, the family company which now teetered on the brink of bankruptcy.
‘Ne—and just like your mother you let me down. Once again it has fallen to me to find a way. And I have. So now you will smile and do your duty by this family. You will say your vows and marry Xenakis.’
I bit my lip at this reminder of yet another bone of contention between us. I’d fought hard for the right to leave the island to pursue my arts degree, only returning because of my mother. The small art gallery I worked at part-time on Nicrete was a way of keeping my sanity, even as I mourned my wasted degree.
‘After that, what then?’
He shrugged. ‘After that you will belong to him. But remember that regardless of the new name you’re taking on you’re still a Petras. If you do anything to bring the family into disrepute you will bear the consequences.’
My heart lurched, my fists balling in pain and frustration—because I knew exactly what my father meant.
The consequences being my father’s ability to manipulate my mother’s guilt and ensure maximum suffering. His constant threats to toss her out with only the clothes on her back, to abandon her to her fate the way she’d briefly abandoned her family. But while my mother had deserted her child and marriage in the name of a doomed love, my father was operating from a place of pure revenge. To him, his wife had humiliated and betrayed him, and he was determined to repay her by keeping her prisoner. Ensuring that at every waking moment she was reminded of her fall from grace and his power over her.
The reason that I’d been roped in as a means to that end was my love for my mother.
Eight years ago, when he’d returned home with my absentee mother after the doctors in Athens had called and informed him that she’d been in a crash, and that the man she’d run away with was dead, he’d laid out new family rules. My mother would stay married to him. She would become a dutiful wife and mother, doing everything in her power to not bring another speck of disgrace to the family. In return he would ensure her medical needs were met, and that she would be given the finest treatment to adjust to her new wheelchair-bound life.
For my part, I would act the devoted daughter…or my mother would suffer.
The horses whinnying as they came to a stop at the steps leading to the church doors dragged me to the present, pushing my heartache aside and replacing it with apprehension.
The last of the guests were entering while organ music piped portentously in the air. In less than an hour I would be married to a man I’d never exchanged a single word with. A man who had somehow fallen in league with my father for reasons I still didn’t know.
I glanced at my father, desperate to ask why. His stony profile warned me not to push my luck. Like my heartache, I smothered my rebellion.
My father stepped out of the carriage and held out his hand. Mine shook, and again I was glad for the veil’s cover to hide my tear-prickled eyes.
A small part of me was grateful that my father didn’t seem in a hurry to march me down the aisle because he was basking in the limelight that momentarily banished the shadow of scandal and humiliation he’d lived under for the past eight years. For once people weren’t talking about his wife’s infidelity. Or the fact that the woman who’d deserted him had returned in a wheelchair. Or that he’d taken her back just so he could keep her firmly under his thumb in retribution.
Today he was simply the man who’d seemingly bagged one of the most eligible bachelors in the world for his daughter—not the once illustrious but now downtrodden businessman who’d lost the Petras fortune his father had left him.
The doors to the church yawned open, ready to receive their unwilling sacrifice. My footsteps faltered and my father sent me a sharp look. Unable to meet his eyes without setting off the spark of mutiny attempting to rekindle itself inside me, I kept my gaze straight.
I needed to do this for my mother.
I spotted her in the front row, her head held high despite her fate, and it lent me the strength to put one foot in front of the other. The slight weight of my grandmother’s envelope in my pocket helped me ignore the rabid curiosity and speculative whispers of three hundred strangers.
Unfortunately there was only one place left to look. At the towering figure of the man waiting in perfect stillness facing the altar.
He didn’t twitch nor fidget. Didn’t display any outward signs of being a nervous groom.
His broad back and wide shoulders seemed to go on for ever, and his proud head and unyielding stance announced his power and authority. He didn’t speak to the equally tall, commanding figure next to him, as most grooms did with their best man. In fact both men stood as if to military attention, their stance unwavering.
My gaze flicked away from Axios Xenakis, my breath stalling in my throat the closer I approached. Even without seeing his face I sensed a formidable aura—one that forced me again to wonder why he was doing this. What did he have to gain with this alliance?
He could have any woman he wanted. So why me?
And why had several butterflies suddenly taken flight within my belly?
Wild instinct urged me to fan my rebellion to life. Fight or flight. Pick one and deal with the consequences later.
But even as the thoughts formed they were discarded.
I had no choice. None whatsoever.
But maybe this man I was marrying would be a little more malleable than my father. Maybe—
He turned. And the feeble little hope died a horrible death.
Eyes the colour of polished gunmetal bored into me as if they were with fierce, merciless hooks. They probed beneath the veil with such force that for a moment I imagined I was naked—that he could see my every weakness and flaw, see to the heart of my deepest desire for freedom.
His lips were pressed into a formidable line, his whole demeanour austere. Axios Xenakis could have been in a boardroom, preparing to strike a deal to make himself another billion euros, not poised before an altar, about to commit himself to a wife he’d never met.
I catalogued his breathtaking features. Wondered if that rugged boxer’s jaw ever relaxed—whether the cut-glass sharpness of his cheekbones ever softened in a smile. Did he maintain constant control of those sleek eyebrows so they were permanently brooding? Did his nose ever wrinkle in laughter?
Why was I interested?
I was nothing but part of a transaction to him—one he didn’t seem entirely thrilled about, judging by his icy regard. So it didn’t matter that the olive vibrancy of his skin drew from me more than a fleeting look, or that he was without a doubt the most strikingly handsome man I’d ever seen.
He was a world removed from the boys I’d sneakily dated at university, before my father had found out and ruthlessly thwarted my chances with them before anything resembling a relationship could form.
Axios Xenakis belonged in a stratosphere of his own. One I was apprehensive about inhabiting.
My footsteps stalled and I heard my father’s sharp intake of breath. It was swiftly followed by the tight grip of his hand in warning.
Don’t disgrace the family.
Defiance sparked again.
But then I saw my mother’s head turn. The ubiquitous misery filmed her eyes, but alongside it was a look so fierce it might have been a reflection from my grandmother’s eyes.
It was a look that infused me with courage.
It’s up to you, it said. Do this…or don’t.
My heart thundered. The need to turn around and simply walk away was a wild cyclone churning through me.
At the altar, Axios’s eyes never shifted from me, his stance unchanging in the face of my clear reluctance. It was as if he knew what I’d decide and was simply waiting me out.
And, since I was playing in a game whose rules no one had bothered to apprise me of, there was only one move I could make.
I would play this round, then fight my corner later.
With that firm promise echoing inside me, I stepped up to the altar.
I saw a fleeting disappointment in his eyes before he masked his features. He was disappointed? Did that mean he didn’t want this?
Wild hope flared within me even as bewilderment mounted. If he didn’t want this then there might be room to negotiate. Room to get what I wanted out of this.
Realising I was staring, and that my father had been dispatched and I was now the sole focus of Axios Xenakis’ eyes, I hurriedly averted my gaze. But not before acknowledging that up close he was even more electrifying. Perhaps it was the severity of his grey suit. Or the fact that the hand he held out to me screamed a silent command.
The last strains of the hymn trailed away, leaving behind a charged silence. With each second it weighed heavier, pressing down on me.
His hand extended another inch, and heavy expectation thickened the air.
With a deep breath, inevitably I slipped my hand into his—and joined the stranger who was to be my husband.
Almost immediately he released me. But the sensation of his touch lingered, and a sizzling chain reaction I was unprepared for travelled up my arm, flaring wide.
It was enough momentarily to drown out the intonation of the priest’s voice as he began the ceremony.
I rallied long enough to murmur the words I’d reluctantly memorised and, when the time came, to pick up the larger of the two platinum wedding bands.
With fingers that still trembled I faced Axios. The impact of his eyes, his towering frame, the much too handsome face momentarily erased the words from my brain.
In silence he held out his left hand, his laser eyes boring into me as he simply…waited.
‘I take thee…’
‘For better or worse…’
‘With my body…’
‘Love, honour, cherish…’
‘Till death…’
With each spoken vow my heart squeezed tighter, the mechanical delivery I’d expected to give morphing into a whispered outpouring wrapped in consternation.
The second I was done he reached for the other ring without taking his eyes off me, again holding out his hand for mine.
And then Axios Xenakis spoke for the first time.
‘I, Axios Xenakis, take thee, Calypso Athena Petras…’
The rest of his words were lost to me as the deep, hypnotic cadence of his voice struck like Zeus’s thunderbolt into a place I didn’t even know existed until that moment.
His voice was…sexy. Alluring. Magnetic.
It seemed impossible that a voice could be all those things, and yet I felt every one.
The cold brush of platinum on my skin brought me back to myself just in time to hear the priest announce us as man and wife. To say that my new husband could now kiss me.
I started to turn away. Because this was a far cry from a normal wedding ceremony. And we were far removed from two people in love.
Large, firm hands cupped my shoulders, shocking me into stillness. Unable to stop a cascade of light shivers, I held my breath as he lifted the heavy veil and draped it behind me with unhurried movements. I watched his gaze take in my bound hair, the small headband made of tiny diamonds and pearls that had belonged to Yiayia Helena and the similar necklace adorning my throat.
Had he been anyone else I might have entertained the notion that Axios Xenakis was reluctant to look into the face of the woman he’d just committed himself to. Because when his piercing grey eyes finally settled on me, I caught a momentary confusion, then his eyes widened and his jaw slackened for a split second before he reasserted supreme control.
Any fleeting pleasure I’d felt at gaining some unknown upper hand fled as heat suffused my face at his intense, almost shocked scrutiny.
Admitting that I should have left the make-up artist’s work alone didn’t help my urge to squirm under his candid regard. But I forced myself to hold his gaze, ignore the consternation in his eyes and the humiliating thud of my heartbeat.
Just when I thought he intended to drag the torture out for ever he slid one finger beneath my chin to nudge my head upward. Caught in the mysterious hypnosis of his gaze, I watched his head descend, so close that heat from his skin singed mine.
I braced myself, my stomach churning with emotions I couldn’t name.
I’d been kissed before. Those university colleagues I’d toyed with before my father’s bitter reach had scared them away. None of them had elicited this level of shivery anticipation.
His kiss arrived, subtle as a butterfly’s wing and powerful as a sledgehammer. Sensation rocked through me like an earthquake, dizzying and terrifying, leaving me with nothing to do but to brace my hands on his chest, anchor myself to reality somehow.
But all that did was compound my situation. Because the solid wall of his chest was like sculpted warm steel, inviting the kind of exploration that had no place in this time and space.
Pull away.
Before I could, he gave a sharp intake of breath. In the next moment I was free of him and he was turning away.
Back to earth with a shaky thud, I fought angry bewilderment even as I strove for composure before our three-hundred-strong audience.
The feeling lingered all through our walk down the aisle, through our stiff poses for pictures and then the ride back up the hill to the crumbling mansion overlooking the harbour—the only home I’d ever known.
The horse and carriage had been swapped for a sleek limousine with darkened windows and a partition that ensured privacy. Beside me Axios maintained a stony silence, one I wasn’t inclined to break despite the dark, enigmatic looks he slanted me every now and then.
When it all became too much, I snatched in a breath and faced him. ‘Is there something on your mind?’
One eyebrow quirked. ‘As conversations go, that’s not quite what I expected as our first. But then I’m making many surprising discoveries.’
He wasn’t the only one! ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He didn’t reply immediately. Then, ‘You’re not what I was led to expect.’
I couldn’t help my lips twisting. ‘You are aware of how absurd that sounds, aren’t you?’
He stiffened, and I got the notion that once again something about me had surprised him. ‘No. Enlighten me,’ he replied dryly.
‘Not what you were led to expect?’ The slight screech in my voice warned me that hysteria might be winning but I couldn’t stop. ‘Let me guess—you thought you were getting some biddable wallflower who would tremble and trip over herself to please you?’
You were trembling minutes ago, when he kissed you.
I ignored the voice and met his gaze.
He’d turned into a pillar of stone. ‘Considering the ink isn’t dry on our marriage certificate, perhaps we should strive not to have our first disagreement. Unless you wish to break some sort of record?’ he rasped, gunmetal eyes boring into me.
Apart from our marriage, I still didn’t know the precise details of the deal between my father and my new husband and it momentarily stalled my response. But the fire burning inside me wouldn’t be doused.
‘I get the feeling you’re just as…invested in this thing as my father is, so it bears repeating that you’re not getting a simpering lackey who will jump through hoops to amuse you.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Your father? Not you?’
Short of revealing my ignorance on the matter, I had to prevaricate. ‘I’m a Petras—same as he.’
Something that looked very much like contempt flickered through his eyes. ‘Consider me forewarned,’ he replied cryptically.
Before I could query what he meant the limo was pulling up to the double doors of my family home. Liveried footmen hurried to throw our doors open.
Inside the rarely used but hastily refurbished ballroom guests drank champagne and feasted on canapés and my father gave a painfully false speech. I only managed to sit through it by reaching into my pocket and clutching the envelope within.
The moment the speeches were done Axios was swarmed upon by fawning acquaintances, eager to engage the great man in conversation. I told myself that my primary emotion was relief as the stylists, also roped into acting as my attendants, rushed to straighten my veil and train, twitching and tweaking until they were satisfied that I’d been restored to their vision of bridal beauty.
But just when I thought I’d have a moment’s reprieve Axios’s gaze zeroed in on me, his eyes falling to the barely touched food on the plate that lay next to my untouched glass of champagne.
One brow rose. ‘Not in the mood for celebrating? Or are you trying to make some sort of point by not eating?’
I couldn’t eat—not when the inkling was deepening that Axios Xenakis was far from a willing participant in this devilish deal. And if that was the case, what had I let myself in for?
I pushed the anxious thought away and let my gaze fall on his equally full plate. ‘You should talk.’
He lifted his champagne and took a healthy gulp. ‘Unlike you, this occasion isn’t one I feel inclined to celebrate.’
My breath caught, but before I could ask him to elaborate, he continued.
‘And in the interest of clarity let me warn you that neither you nor your father have any cards left to play. Should you feel inclined to make more demands.’
Christos, what exactly had my father done?
But even as the question burned fire boiled in my blood. ‘Are you threatening my family? Because if you are, please know that I will fight you with everything I’ve got.’
His lips twisted at my fierce tone. ‘What a fiery temper you have. I wonder what other surprises you’re hiding beneath those unfortunate layers of… What is that material?’
As much as I hated my wedding dress, his remark sparked irritation. ‘It’s called tulle. And you should know. You paid for it, after all.’
The barest hint of a sardonic smile lifted his sensual lips. ‘Writing a cheque for it doesn’t mean I pay attention to every single detail of a woman’s wardrobe. I have better things to do than concern myself with the name of the fabric that comprises a wedding gown.’
‘But this is your wedding too,’ I taunted, knowing my mockery would aggravate.
Something about this towering hunk of a man, who’d made it clear that this was the last place he wanted to be, riled me on a visceral level, firing up a need to dig beneath his formidable exterior.
‘Isn’t it supposed to be one of the momentous occasions of your life?’
Every trace of humour disappeared. Piercing grey eyes pinned me in place, and the tension vibrating from him was so thick I could almost touch it.
‘Momentous occasions are highly anticipated and satisfactorily celebrated. You’d have to be delusional or deliberately blind to imagine I’m in such a state, Calypso Petras.’
The way he said my name, with drawling, mocking intonation, fired my blood. Along with other sensations I couldn’t quite name.
‘It’s Calypso Xenakis now—or have you already forgotten?’ I fired back, taking secret pleasure in seeing the irritated flare of his nostrils.
‘I have not forgotten,’ he answered with taut iciness.
‘If this is such an ordeal for you, then why all this?’ I waved my hand at the obscenely lavish banquet displayed along one long wall, the champagne tower brimming with expensive golden bubbles, the caviar-laden trays being circulated, and the designer-clad guests, shamelessly indulging their appetites.
‘Because your father insisted,’ he replied, his voice colder than an arctic vortex. ‘As you well know.’
I opened my mouth to tell him for once and for all that none of this made sense to me because no one had bothered to consult me about my own wedding.
The sight of my mother’s face, staring at me from one table away, pain and misery etched beneath her smile, dried the words in my throat.
For whatever reason fate had tangled the Xenakises and the Petrases in an acrimonious weave and my mother and I were caught in the middle. I could no more extricate myself than I could turn my back on her.
A tiny, tortured sound whistled through the air and I realised it came from my own throat—a manifestation of that hysteria that just wouldn’t die down. I stood abruptly, knowing I had to get away before I did something regrettable.
Like climb on top of the lavishly decorated lonely high table, set apart from everyone else to showcase the newly married couple in all their glory, and scream at the top of my lungs.
That just wouldn’t do. Because while I might have acquired a new surname, it was dawning on me that until I learned the true nature of what I was embroiled in I would be wise to keep a firm hold of my feelings.
And an even firmer hold of my wits.

CHAPTER TWO (#u686479aa-33b3-5edc-a721-77748ecc78bd)
MONEY MAKES THE world spin.
I swallowed my champagne, careful not to choke on it as I dispassionately observed the guests indulging in the revelry of my sham of a wedding.
Money had made this happen, and in the exact time frame I’d requested it.
Money had put that smug smile on Yiannis Petras’s face.
Money had made the family, decimated by my grandfather’s fall from grace, rally together for the sake of enjoying the rejuvenated fruits of my labour.
I’d seen first-hand how the lack of it could cause backbiting and untold strain. Ostensibly solid marriages crumbled under the threat of diminished wealth and influence. I’d seen it in my parents’ marriage. It was why I’d never have freely chosen this route for myself.
My gaze shifted to my brand-new wife.
Had money influenced her agreement to this fiasco?
Was she getting a cut of the hundred million euros?
Of course she was. Had she not proclaimed herself a true Petras?
For those seconds as she’d hesitated at the altar I’d entertained the notion that she shared my reluctance, had imagined the merest hint of resistance in her eyes.
Her words had put me straight.
A cursory investigation had revealed that while she’d graduated from Skypos University with a major in Arts, she’d done nothing with her degree for the last two years. Her father’s daughter through and through, sitting back and taking the easy route to riches.
So what if outwardly she wasn’t what I expected?
I snorted under my breath at this colossal understatement. Calypso Petras…ochi, make that Calypso Xenakis…was beyond a surprise. She was a punch to my solar plexus, one it was taking an irritatingly long time to wrestle under control.
Even now my senses still reeled from what I’d uncovered beneath her veil. She was far from the drab little mouse I’d assumed.
‘I believe there’s a rule somewhere that states you shouldn’t scowl on your wedding day.’
I resisted the urge to grind my teeth and faced my brother. ‘You think this is funny?’
‘This whole circus? No. I believe that ring on your finger and the look on your face makes it all too real.’ Neo affected a mocking shudder intended to rile me further.
It worked.
‘I’m talking about your implication that my… Calypso.’ Thee mou, why did her name sound so…erotic?
Neo’s eyes widened before glinting with keen speculation. ‘If I recall, I didn’t give you any specifics.’
There was a reason Neo was president of marketing at Xenakis Aeronautics. He could sell hay to a farmer.
My fingers tightened around my glass. ‘You deliberately let me to think she was…unremarkable.’
She was quite the opposite. Hers was the confounding kind of beauty one couldn’t place a finger on. The kind that made you stare for much longer than was polite.
Neo shrugged. ‘No, I didn’t. And don’t blame me for the dire state of your mind, brother,’ he answered.
The low heat burning through my blood intensified. And while I wanted to attribute it to this conversation, I knew I couldn’t. Ever since I’d pulled that hideous veil off her face and uncovered the woman I’d agreed to marry a different irritation had lodged itself deep inside me. One I wasn’t quite ready to examine.
But that wasn’t to say I was ready to let Neo off the hook for…
For what?
Making obfuscating observations about Calypso Petras that had made me dismiss her from my mind, only to be knocked off-kilter by her appearance?
Granted, she still wasn’t my type. Her eyes were too large…much too distracting. They were the type of turquoise-blue that made you question their authenticity. Framed with long eyelashes that begged the same question. And then there were her lips. Full and sensual, with a natural bruised rose hue, and deeply alluring despite the absence of gloss.
The dichotomy of fully made-up eyes and bare lips had absorbed my attention for much too long at that altar. And it had irritated me even further that since our arrival at the reception those lips had been buried beneath a hideous layer of frosty peach.
But it hadn’t stopped me puzzling over why the two aspects of her initial appearance had been so at odds with each other. Or why she’d seemed…startled by our very brief kiss on the altar.
False innocence wrapped around her true character? A character that contained more than a little fire.
My mind flicked to other hints I’d glimpsed over the last few hours. While I was yet to discover what lay beneath the layers of the wedding gown, there were more than enough hints to authenticate her voluptuousness.
Yet to discover…
The peculiar buzz that had been ignited during that fleeting kiss notched up a fraction, the fact that the brief contact still lingered on my lips drawing another frown.
‘Your new wife is looking a little…unhappy. Perhaps you should see about fixing that?’
About to state that I had nothing to fix, that her happiness was none of my concern, I found my gaze flicked to the table. Despite the picture of poise she was trying to project she looked pale, her eyes flitting nervously. A quick scrutiny of our guests showed she was the object of several stares and blatant whispers.
A helpless prey in a jungle of predators.
My feet moved almost of their own accord, the niggling urge to reverse that look on her face irritating me even as I moved towards her, effectively silencing the whispers with quelling stares.
Regardless of how this union had come about, rumours couldn’t be allowed to run rife. This was how undermining started.
As I neared, silence fell. Her gaze shifted, met mine. Her chin lifted, a wisp of bewilderment and skittishness evaporating and her eyes flashing with defiance.
For some absurd reason it sparked something to life inside me. Something I fully intended to ignore.
Defiance or bewilderment, the deed was done. She and her family had capitalised on an agreement made under duress and bagged themselves a windfall. She should be celebrating.
Instead I caught another trace of apprehension as I stopped beside her chair. Eyes growing wide, she looked up at me. The graceful line of her neck—another alluring feature that seemed to demand attention—rippled as she swallowed.
Thee mou, if this was an act then she was a good actress!
Aware of our audience, and a burning need to find out, I held out my hand to her. ‘The traditional first dance is coming up, I believe.’ The earlier we could get this spectacle out of the way, the quicker I could resume my life.
Her gaze darted to the dance floor, her reluctance clear. ‘Is that…really necessary?’
Something about her reluctance and her whole demeanour grated. She was behaving as if I was contaminated!
‘Enough with this pretence. That wide-eyed innocent thing will only work for so long. Give it up, Calypso.’
She offered me her hand, but the eyes that met mine as she stood sparkled with renewed fire. ‘No one calls me Calypso. My name is Callie,’ she stated firmly.
I attempted to ignore the slim fingers in mine, the smooth softness of her palm and the way it kicked to life something inside me as I led her to the middle of the dance floor.
‘I’m your new husband—surely I don’t fall under the category of no one?’ I curled my arm around her waist, a singular need to press her close escalating inside me as the band struck up a waltz.
She stiffened. ‘Are you insinuating that you’re special?’
For some reason my lips quirked. ‘By your tone, I’m guessing I’m not. Not even special enough for you to grant me the simple gift of addressing you as I please?’
Her lips firmed again, drawing my attention to their plumpness. Reminding me of that all too fleeting taste of them.
‘And what am I to call you? Other than stranger or husband?’
For some reason the fiery huskiness of her voice drew another smile. A puzzle in itself, since humour was the last emotion I should have been experiencing. I was in this situation because of money and shameless greed.
‘Call me Axios. Or Ax, as most people do. I doubt we will reach the stage of coining terms of endearment.’
‘On that I think we’re agreed,’ she replied, her gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder.
Another scrabble of irritation threatened to rise, but I suppressed it when I noticed that once again, beneath the show of sharp claws, she was trembling, her wide eyes a little too bright. As if she was holding on to her composure by a thread.
‘Is something wrong?’ I asked. Again I questioned my need to know. Or care.
‘What could possibly be wrong?’
She didn’t bother to meet my gaze. If anything, she attempted to detach herself, which ought to have been impossible, considering how close we were dancing. But I was learning that my new wife had several…interesting facets.
‘It is polite to look at me when you address me.’
She maintained her stance for another few seconds, then her blue eyes rose to mine. The urge to stare into them, to commit every fleck and expression to memory, charged through me, this time bringing a wave of heat to my groin.
I inhaled slowly, forcing myself to ignore that unsettling sensation and address her as I would any acquaintance.
Even though she wasn’t.
Even though she’d taken my name and we were effectively bound together for twelve long months.
‘This thing will go smoother if we attempt to be civil with one another. Don’t you agree?’
‘I’m not a puppet. I cannot act a certain way on command.’
‘But you can dispense with that little-girl-lost look. And I find it curious that you would choose to refer to puppets. Perhaps you’re familiar with knowing exactly which strings to tug to get what you want?’
Unlike me, she didn’t attempt to disguise her frown. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘This whole scheme, orchestrated by you and your family, has gone off without a hitch. Feel free to stop acting now.’
She inhaled sharply, her eyes darting to the guests dancing around us. ‘Please keep your voice down.’
‘Afraid you’ll be found out? Are you really so blind to the fact that every single guest is speculating wildly about how two people who’ve never met are now married?’
Her plump lips pressed together for a moment. ‘I can’t control what other people think. But I do care about perpetuating unfounded rumours.’
‘Do you, yineka mou?’
Her blue eyes shadowed and her gaze quickly flicked away. ‘Can you not call me that, please?’
‘Why not? Are you not my wife?’
The more the term fell from my lips the deeper it bored into me, as if rooting for a place to settle. Of course the search would be futile, because this was far from what I wanted.
The strain and stress of trying to save his failing company while keeping his family and his marriage together had driven my grandfather into an early grave, his spirit broken long before the heart attack that had suddenly taken him. It was the same stress that had nearly broken my own father, forcing him to step down after a mere two years as CEO.
I didn’t intend to weigh myself down with similar baggage.
I refocused on Calypso, attempting to ignore the effect of her soft curves against my body as she asked, ‘So, what happens after this?’
‘“This”?’
‘After we’re done here,’ she elaborated.
Unbidden, my thoughts flew ahead. To when the evening would turn exclusive and intimate. When wedding euphoria traditionally took on another, more carnal dimension.
A traditions I wouldn’t be indulging in.
‘Do you plan on getting back into your helicopter and leaving me here?’
The carefully disguised hope in her voice threw me back to that day in my father’s office a month ago, when an agreement that bore all the hallmarks of blackmail had crash-landed into my life and threatened the Xenakis name and business. Did she really think she and her family could take financial advantage and then sail off into the sunset?
The silent vow I’d taken that day to ensure neither Calypso nor her father escaped unscathed resurged as I looked down into her face. A face struggling for composure and a body twitching nervously beneath my hand.
I pulled her closer, steadied her at her slight stumble, and lowered my lips to her ear.
‘It’s our wedding night, matia mou. How would it look if we didn’t stay under the same roof? Sleep in the same bed?’
My lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear and she shivered. A moment later wide, alluring eyes sought mine.
‘Sleep in the same bed? But you don’t even know me. What…what’s the rush?’
I opened my mouth to tell her there was no rush. That giving her my name was the final payment she and her family would extract from me. Instead I shrugged, noting absently that a part of me was enjoying this a little too much.
‘Other than ensuring there will be nothing to be held over my head when the whim takes your father? Are you suggesting a period of getting to know one another before we decide if we must consummate this marriage?’
She gave a little start. ‘If? Don’t you mean when?’ she whispered fiercely, her eyes wider, searching.
Again the words to answer, to state that this dance was as close as we would get for the duration of our agreement, remained unsaid on the tip of my tongue. If she believed I would further compound this debacle by gracing her bed, so be it. She would discover differently later.
Absurdly, the pleasure in that thought of delivering disappointment never arrived. Instead I was unarmed by a disturbing throbbing in my groin, by the temptation to take a different approach. To gather her closer, breathe in the alluring perfume that clung to her silken skin.
I did just that, nudging her close with a firm clasp on her lower back. And heard her sharp intake of breath.
Pulling back, I glanced at her pale face. ‘Are you all right?’
Her swift nod assured me that she was lying, and the wild darting of her gaze confirmed that belief.
‘Calypso?’
‘I… I’m fine. Just a little headache. That’s all.’
I frowned. ‘Then why are you touching your stomach?’
Her hand quickly relocated from her midriff to my shoulder, her smile little more than a grimace. ‘It’s nothing, I assure you.’
About to refute that assurance, I was forestalled by the end of the music and the applause that followed. And then by the arrival of Iona Petras.
My introduction to Calypso’s mother, along with everyone else in the Petras clan, had been stiff and perfunctory, with no disguising exactly what this bloodless transaction was.
Everyone except Calypso.
‘May I have a private moment with my daughter?’ the older woman asked, although I got the feeling it was more an order than a request, giving me a momentary glimpse of where Calypso had inherited her quiet fire.
My fingers started to tighten on Calypso’s waist, as a peculiar reluctance to let her go assailed me. I strenuously denied it and released her. ‘By all means.’
A silent conversation passed between mother and daughter before Calypso held out her hand. Without so much as a glance my way, they exited the ballroom.
A fine irritant, like a tiny pebble in my shoe, stayed with me throughout all my inane conversations with people I didn’t know and another five-minute ribbing from Neo. By the time my father approached I had the notion that my jaw would crack from being ground so tight.
‘Am I mistaken or do you two seem to be getting along?’ my father asked.
‘You are mistaken,’ I quipped, unwilling to admit how that dance and the feel of Calypso in my arms had fired up my blood.
He grimaced. ‘I was hoping this would be less of an ordeal for you if you got along.’
‘I said I’d do what needs to be done. And I will.’
Despite that small, startling flame of anticipation burning inside me.
Despite the fact that I’d completely dismissed any occurrence of a wedding night until exactly five minutes ago.
That sensation of her slender back beneath my hand…that pulse beating at her throat… The shivers she couldn’t control.
The fire of anticipation flared higher, resisting every attempt to dampen it down.
But did I need to?
This abhorrent agreement hadn’t, thankfully, included a stipulation for consummation. But would it be a true marriage without it?
Enough!
Wrestling with myself over this was beneath me. Everything Yiannis Petras had asked for had been delivered. They would get nothing more from me.
That declaration lasted until my new wife walked back into the room and attempted to dismiss me with a vacant smile, even while her eyes challenged me.
Something locked into place inside me.
A challenge that needed answering.
Without stopping to question the wisdom of doing it, I crossed the wide room to where she stood. Took the hand loosely fisted by her side and brushed my lips over her knuckles.
Satisfaction sizzled through me when her breath caught. ‘Say your goodbyes, Calypso. It’s time to leave.’


‘So what now?’ I cringed inwardly at the nerves in my voice.
The helicopter ride—my first—from Nicrete to Agistros, the large island apparently owned entirely by Axios, had been breathtaking and exhilarating, and thankfully had not required much conversation. Largely because Axios had piloted the aircraft and I’d felt too nervous to disturb him, even if there’d been anything to talk about.
My mind was still a jumble after our charged snippets of conversation and that little slip on the dance floor, when he pulled me close and the ache in my belly manifested itself, and my last unsettling conversation with my mother.
But most of all it was the look in Axios’s eyes before he’d whisked me away from the reception and down to the waiting helicopter that kept my heart banging against my ribs.
That look was far too unsettling and electrifying for me to rest easy.
Especially not after landing on a dedicated cliff-side helipad on this island that boasted its own dormant volcano and a jaw-dropping villa that seemed almost too beautiful to be real.
I thought it was the setting sun that leant it that fairy tale look and made the unevenly staggered storeys seem to go on for ever. But every single facet of it turned out to be real, from the blush-hued stone, the towering arched windows, the rooftop infinity pool that seemed to blend into the sky and the endless reception rooms and bedroom suites, each holding priceless ancient works of art interspersed with the work of new cutting-edge artists whose work I loved.
Every jaw-dropping fact I’d read about Axios Xenakis had seemed amplified the moment he’d stepped out of the helicopter, and his aura was intensifying with each second as he walked me around Villa Almyra, exuding flawless power and authority.
Now, standing in the luxury sitting room adjoining what I assumed to be the master bedroom, I couldn’t hold my words back.
He didn’t answer for the longest time. He shrugged off the bespoke jacket he’d worn for the wedding ceremony. Then strolled over to the extensive drinks cabinet.
‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked.
About to refuse, I stopped. It would buy me time to ease my nerves. ‘Mineral water, thanks.’
He poured my drink, then a single malt whisky into a crystal glass, handing mine to me before taking his time to savour his first sip.
The feeling that he was waiting, biding his time for…something threatened to overwhelm me, even while my senses skittered with alien excitement. Slowly it grew hotter, more dangerous.
His gaze raked over my wedding dress for a charged few seconds. ‘Now we do whatever you want. It’s your wedding night after all,’ he drawled.
I got the feeling he was testing me. For what, I didn’t know. And I wasn’t sure I was ready to find out.
‘The modern art pieces all over the house. Did you pick them yourself?’
His eyes widened fractionally, as if I’d surprised him. ‘Yes,’ he bit out. Then, on a softer note, ‘Good art rarely loses its value.’
A layer of my nerves eased as I nodded. ‘And pieces from emerging talent only appreciate with time.’
He strolled to the massive fireplace in the living room and leaned one muscular shoulder against the mantel. ‘Masterpieces from the greats are all well and good, but modern art has its place too. They should be appreciated side by side.’
Just as he had placed them all over the house. I took a sip of water, settling deeper into my seat. ‘I agree. Does that theme echo in all your properties?’
‘Yes, it does.’
Before I could express pleasure in the thought, the gleam in his eyes arrested me.
‘Is this how you wish to spend your wedding night, Calypso? Discussing art?’
The nerves rushed back and my hand trembled. ‘What if it is?’
‘Then I suggest you might want to be in more comfortable attire than that gown?’
Again, his eyes raked me, sending heat spiralling through me.
‘Is this a ploy that usually works for you?’
One corner of his mouth lifted before his eyes darkened. ‘Like you, I’ve never been married, so we both find ourselves in strange waters. Either way, the dress is going to have to come off one way or the other.’
‘And if you don’t like what is underneath…?’ I dared. ‘Will you send me back?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what you’re hoping for?’
Was it? I could have sworn my answer would be yes until actually faced with the question. But the word stuck in my throat, refusing to emerge as he sauntered towards me, taking a moment to discard the crystal tumbler so both his hands were free to capture my shoulders when he stopped in front of me.
‘What I’m hoping for is that you will stop dishing out those enigmatic smiles and tell me what you meant earlier,’ I said.
He frowned. ‘You’ve lost me,’ he drawled.
‘When you said if we were to consummate this marriage? Are you incapable of doing so? If so perhaps you should get one of your staff to show me where I’m to sleep.’
His eyebrows rose. ‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you just issued me a challenge,’ he drawled, in a voice that ruffled the tight nerves beneath my skin.
His scent filled my nostrils, his calm breathing propelling my attention to his sculpted chest, to the pulse beating steadily at his throat. To the magnificent vitality of his skin and the sheer animalistic aura breaching my tightly controlled space. Screaming at me to notice his masculinity. And not just to notice. He drew me with a power I’d never known before. I didn’t just want to breathe him in. I wanted to touch. Explore. Taste.

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