Greek Mavericks: Winning The Enigmatic Greek. Tara Pammi
She hugged the pashmina as they stood in a hallway as big as her bedsit, where a marble statue of a man appeared to be glaring at her balefully.
‘So now what do we do?’ she said bluntly.
‘Why don’t you go and change out of that dress?’ he suggested. ‘You’ve been shivering since we left the reception. Come with me and I’ll remind you where our bedroom is.’
Our? She looked up at him. Had he mentioned that to her before, or had she just not been concentrating? Probably not. His housekeeper had been hovering helpfully during her previous visit, so maybe it had only been alluded to. ‘You mean we’re going to be...sharing?’
‘Don’t be naïve, Keeley.’ He glittered her a smile. ‘Of course we are. I want to have sex with you. I thought I’d made that clear. That, surely, is the whole point of being man and wife.’
‘But the vows we made weren’t real.’
‘No? Then we could make them real. Remember what I said about faking it to make it?’ He gave an odd kind of laugh. ‘And don’t widen your eyes at me like that, koukla mou. You look like one of those women in an old film who has been tied to the railway line and only just noticed the train approaching. I don’t intend behaving like a caveman, if that’s what concerns you.’
‘But you said—’
‘I said I wanted to have sex with you. And I do. But it has to be consensual. You would need to give yourself to me wholeheartedly—and consciously,’ he added with a cool smile. ‘I’m not talking about one of those middle-of-the-night encounters, where two bodies collide...and before you know it we’re having mind-blowing sex without a single word being exchanged.’
‘You mean...’ the tip of her tongue snaked over her top lip as she followed him along the corridor, to a room which contained a vast bed which reminded her of a sacrificial altar ‘...like the night our child was conceived?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘That’s exactly what I mean. But this time I want us both to be fully aware of what’s happening.’ There was a pause as he turned around to face her. ‘Unless silent submission is what secretly turns you on?’
‘I already told you—I have practically no experience of sex,’ she said, because suddenly it became important that he stopped thinking of her as some kind of stereotype and started treating her like a real person. ‘I...’ She bit her lip and said it before she had time to think about the consequences. ‘I’d never even had an orgasm before I slept with you.’
He looked at her and she could see a glint of something incomprehensible in his narrowed blue eyes.
‘Maybe that’s the reason why I’m not trying hard to seduce you,’ he said unexpectedly. ‘Maybe I want you to stop staring at me as if I was the big, bad wolf and to relax a little. Your dressing room is next door—so why don’t you get out of your wedding dress and slip into something more comfortable?’
‘Like...what?’
‘Whatever makes you feel good. But don’t worry,’ he said drily. ‘I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my hands off you, if that’s what you want.’
‘That’s what I want,’ she said, seeing his tight smile before he turned away and closed the door behind him. And wasn’t human nature a funny thing? She’d been gearing herself up to fight off his advances, but the news that he wasn’t actually going to make any left her with a distinct feeling of disappointment. She never knew where she stood with him. She felt as if she were walking along an emotional tightrope. Was that intentional—or just the way he always was around women? She undid the side zip of the red wedding dress, trying to get her head around the fact that this vast room with its amazing views over the darkening city was hers.
No. Not hers. His. He owned everything. The dress she stood in and the leather shoes she gratefully kicked off.
But not the child in her belly, she reminded herself fiercely as she walked into the gleaming en-suite bathroom. That child was hers, too.
Stripping off and piling her hair on top of her head, she ran a deep bath into which she poured a reckless amount of bath oil, before sinking gratefully into the steamy depths. It was the first time all day that she’d truly relaxed and she lay there for ages, studying the changing shape of her body as the scented water gradually cooled and she was startled by the sound of Ariston’s voice from the other side of the bathroom door.
‘Keeley?’
Instantly her nipples hardened and she swallowed. ‘I’m in the bath.’
‘I gathered that.’ There was a pause. ‘Are you coming out any time soon?’
She pulled out the plug and the water began to drain away. ‘Well, I’m not planning on spending the night in here.’
She towelled herself dry and tied her damp hair in a ponytail. Then she pulled on a pair of palest grey sweat-pants and a matching cloud-like cashmere sweater and found her way back through the maze of corridors to the sitting room, where the lights on the skyscrapers outside the enormous windows were beginning to twinkle like stars. Ariston had removed his tie and shoes and he lay on the sofa, leafing his way through a stack of closely printed papers. His partially unbuttoned white shirt gave a provocative glimpse of his chest and, with his long legs stretched out in front of him, his powerful body looked relaxed for once. He glanced up as she walked in, the expression on his shuttered face indefinable.
‘Better?’
‘Much better.’
‘Stop hovering by the door like a visitor. This is your home now. Come and sit down. Can I get you anything? Some tea?’
‘That would be great.’ She thought how formal they sounded—like two total strangers who had suddenly found themselves locked up together. But wasn’t that exactly what they were? What did she really know about Ariston Kavakos other than the superficial? She realised she’d been expecting him to ring a discreet bell and for his housekeeper to come scurrying from some unseen corner to do his bidding, just as she’d done on her previous visit. But to her surprise, he rose to his feet.
‘I’ll go and make some.’
‘You?’
‘I’m perfectly capable of boiling a kettle,’ he said drily.
‘But...isn’t your housekeeper here?’
‘Not tonight,’ he said. ‘I thought it might be preferable to spend the first night of our honeymoon alone and without interruption.’
Once he’d gone Keeley sank down on a squashy sofa, feeling relieved. At least she would be able to relax without the silent scrutiny of his domestic staff who might reasonably wonder why one of their number was now installed as their new mistress.
She glanced up as Ariston returned, carrying a tray, with peppermint tea for her and a glass of whisky for himself. He sat down opposite her and as he sipped his whisky she thought about all the contradictory aspects of his character which made him such an enigma. And suddenly she found herself wanting to know more. Needing to know more. She suspected that in normal circumstances he would bat off any questions she might have, with the impatience of a man who held no truck with questions. But these weren’t normal circumstances and surely it wasn’t possible to co-exist with a man she didn’t really know? A man whose child she carried in her belly. She’d humoured him as he had requested earlier in the day, so wasn’t it his turn to do the same for her?
‘You remember asking whether I wanted my mother at the wedding?’ she said.
His eyes narrowed. ‘I do. And you told me she wasn’t well enough to attend.’
‘No. That’s right. She wasn’t.’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘But you didn’t even mention your own mother and I suddenly realised I don’t know anything about her.’
His fingers tightened around his whisky glass.