In the Greek's Bed. Sara Wood
laughed. ‘You’ll be far too busy to work when you’re my wife. Of course, if you want to continue with a little charity work…’
Katie could hardly believe what she was hearing—Tom expected her to quit work when they were married! There was no way!
‘You’ve got a bit more colour in your cheeks now,’ he observed, blissfully unaware that it was hostility to her impending retirement that had produced the delicate tinge of creamy rose to her pale honey complexion. ‘Come on, love, the sooner we feed you the better.’
‘And your friend doesn’t like being kept waiting,’ Katie couldn’t prevent herself from adding drily.
His friend called Nikos.
How stupid she’d been to be spooked by a name. There were most probably hundreds—no, thousands of men called Nikos in the world, she told herself as she followed Tom into the dining room.
This isn’t happening!
‘Here she is, Nikos.’ Tom, oblivious to the frozen state of the young woman beside him, proudly pushed her forward. Like a marionette she responded stiffly. ‘This is Katie. Didn’t I tell you she was totally gorgeous and clever too? Come on, sweetheart, don’t be shy…’
Shy? More like paralysed with shock and horror, not to mention being scared witless into the bargain! Oh, God, this meal looked like one she wasn’t likely to forget in a hurry!
If the floor had opened up at her feet Katie would have jumped into the black hole rather than live this moment. Even at the best of times she hated it when Tom introduced her to his friends with this sort of fanfare. Maybe there were women out there who could live up to the sort of lavish build-up he gave her, but Katie knew she wasn’t one of them.
The dark-suited, long-limbed figure rose with languid, almost feral grace to his feet. ‘You did indeed, Tom.’
All thoughts of hallucination vanished. Katie hadn’t heard it for seven years, but the deep, cultured voice was exactly as she recalled it. The bitter-chocolate tone with the merest hint of an accent made goose-bumps break out like a rash over her skin and had, she suspected, some worrying connection with her tingly feelings.
Despite her scornful dismissal, the tingly feelings continued to make their presence felt.
‘Tom’s told me so much about you I feel as though we already know each other.’
Unlike her, Tom didn’t seem to notice the sinister, sardonic edge in the soft words or see the cold hostility in the other man’s remarkable eyes as they roamed casually over her body, lingering longer than was polite on the exposed slopes of her breasts.
Despite the fact disbelief was ricocheting wildly around inside her head, Katie could almost admire his nerve, her own was very near to breaking-point. It wasn’t just not knowing how or why he was here—and that was bad enough!—it was the not knowing what he was going to do or say next that really terrified her.
Their glances locked, the expression on those finely chiselled features revealed little, but as their eyes briefly touched Katie was left with the definite impression that he was enjoying every second of her discomfiture. It was that discovery that enabled her to hold it together.
Katie welcomed the fortifying flicker of anger; it was something solid and real for her to cling to. The malicious pleasure she’d seen in those dark, unfathomable depths was inexplicable to her. Admittedly buying a husband might make her deserving of the odd sneer and snigger in some ungenerous quarters, but if she’d been doing the buying he’d been bought, which hardly made his position one of superiority…not that you’d know, he looked so damned pleased with himself.
Though that smugness and self-satisfaction might have something to do with the billions he no doubt had in his bank account. And I gave him money… When her mind started working again she might be able to figure that one out, but right now she had to swallow a bubble of hysterical laughter; the situation was positively surreal.
‘Katie, darling, this is Nikos Lakis.’
Like Tom, he was wearing a dark grey suit; unlike Tom’s, it was not cut to disguise a spreading waistline. It was hard to imagine the man standing there indulging himself in the necessary excesses to result in a thickening waistline…everything about him was hard and he exuded an aura that said, ‘I’m in control’. She’d not come across many men like that but those she had she hadn’t warmed to. They thought the world revolved around them.
Her mind drifted back to the small, stuffy little ante-room of the register office. She recalled the tall, commanding figure so much younger than she’d been expecting who’d strode in displaying an unnerving presence and none of the humility she’d expected of a man desperate enough to marry for money. Knowing he’d been born with a solid gold spoon in his distressingly sexy mouth explained the arrogance, but not why a billionaire’s son had married for money.
My God, I’ve been married to a Greek million…no, billionaire for seven years and I didn’t even know it. Even the most soapy of daytime soaps wouldn’t dare come up with a storyline that far-fetched.
Katie was forced to revise her opinion about control slightly as her wide, shock-glazed eyes slid to the passionate curve of his wide, sensual lips…the light, quivering sensation in her belly intensified. If he did lose control he’d probably do it in a spectacular way. A totally inappropriate mental image of those predatory lips crashing down on her own flashed across her vision…
Katie was just getting on top of her wayward imagination when her nightmare smiled—it wasn’t helpful. The smile exuded a sensual menace totally in keeping with her wild imaginings. Her bemused brain sought refuge in irrelevant details like the sculpted curve of his lips and the slashing angle of his high, angular cheekbones. Over the years she’d decided that her imagination had exaggerated the raw sexuality Nikos Lakis exuded—she now knew differently! The man oozed sex appeal from every pore; it was hardly decent.
Katie’s obedient lips did the necessary social smiling, but her eyes were another matter; they continued to broadcast horror, confusion and bewilderment.
Tom, cheerfully oblivious to the screaming tension or her reluctance, pulled her farther forward with pride.
‘Pleased to meet you, Katherine.’ One dark brow quirked. ‘It is Katherine…?’
She glared…he knew full well it wasn’t. Like herself, he had a copy of the marriage certificate that Harvey had locked safely away…Harvey! The trusted family friend must have known his identity and he hadn’t told her—the duplicity of men was staggering, she thought, wisely skimming over her own forays in that direction of late.
‘No, actually it’s Katerina.’ Do you, Katerina, take…She gave her head a little shake to chase away the intrusive memory. ‘Only nobody calls me that any more,’ she added, anxiety and escalating antipathy making her soft voice terse and sharp.
‘That’s a pity, it’s a beautiful name.’
It was the way he said it, but then a bus timetable would sound dreamy when spoken by that silver tongue. No, not silver—if that deep, velvet-textured drawl had a colour it would be a deep, decadent purple. She gave her head a tiny shake, irritated by the whimsical nature of her thoughts. Purple or puce, a voice like that constituted a very dangerous ability in a male, especially one who looked like this.
If he was as shocked as she had been to discover the identity of his dinner companion he was hiding it well, which meant what? Had he known? Maybe he didn’t recognise her? She ditched that possibility before it was even fully formed. Was he here because Harvey had contacted him about the divorce? Or was this one horrible, horrifying coincidence?
Questions she had aplenty, but no obvious answers surfaced in her spinning head.
Oh goodness, why didn’t I tell Tom when I had the chance…? She groaned at herself. Now it was too late…he’d hate her, and who could