Oh, no. She closed her eyes, her heart sinking to her stomach. Her father would not have told this man about Suzanna, surely?
‘He wanted me to know what a bad influence you are on the child,’ that hateful voice continued, while Mia’s mind had shot off in another direction entirely. ‘Therefore, while you are with me you are to have no contact with—Suzanna, isn’t it? Apparently, you are very jealous of her and can, if allowed to, make her young life a misery …’
So that was how her father was playing it. Her eyes bleak and bitter behind her lowered lids, Mia pressed her lips together and said nothing. No contact with Suzanna would keep her striving to make the grandson her father wanted so badly. No contact with Suzanna was meant as a warning—do your job or forget all about her.
‘Is that why he married you off to the highest bidder?’ her new husband continued remorselessly. ‘To get you right out of your sister’s life?’
‘You didn’t bid for me—you were bought!’ She hit back at him. ‘For the specific purpose of producing my father’s precious grandson! So, if the reputation for making sons in your family lets yo
u down,’ she finished shakily, ‘make sure you don’t blame me for the mistake!’
He should have been angry. Heavens, she’d said it all to make him angry! But all he did was huff a lazy laugh of pure male confidence.
‘My mother had three sons and my grandmother five. I don’t think I need worry on that score. And,’ he added as he shifted his lean bulk to glance out of the car window, ‘that was not the point I was trying to make. I was simply letting you know that I now know why your father was willing to pay you five million pounds to get you out of his life.’
‘Plus a Greek island,’ Mia added. ‘Please don’t forget the island—how much is that worth in cold, hard cash?’
His face hardened at the reminder, the link she was making between them so clear that even he, for all his arrogance, could not deny it was there.
‘We have arrived,’ he said, bringing an end to the conversation.
Sure enough, the car pulled to a stop and Mia looked out to find they had come to one of the private airfields just outside London. A gleaming white Gulfstream jet sat glinting in the weak winter sunlight, the Doumas logo painted in gold on its side.
Ten minutes after that Mia found herself ensconced in luxurious cream leather—alone.
Her new husband, she discovered, was apparently going to fly them wherever they were going. He disappeared into the cockpit the moment they boarded and she did not set eyes on him again until they landed—in Greece she had to assume because no one had bothered to inform her.
He came striding into the main cabin minus his jacket and silk tie. He looked different somehow, less formal, but all the more intimidating for it.
Male—that was the word that suddenly came to mind. He looked more aggressively male than he had done before. Once again she lowered her eyes before he could glimpse what she was thinking, and bent to pick up her jacket which she, too, had discarded during the flight.
So she didn’t see the way his eyes narrowed on the firm thrust of her breasts, outlined by the close fit of her clinging white top. She didn’t see those eyes dip lower, over her flat stomach to her slender thighs and then down over pale stockinged legs, before they made the same journey back up her face again.
‘Where are we?’ she asked, using the cover of fastening her jacket buttons.
‘The island of Skiathos,’ he told her. ‘I have a villa here. It will, of course, be sold when I get back the family island,’ he added stiffly.
The family island … Mia shuddered, swallowing on the thick dry lump that formed in her throat at the grim reminder of what this was all about for him.
Then he went on, in a completely different tone of voice, ‘That green colour suits you,’ he murmured huskily. ‘It does something spectacular to your eyes.’
She was so disconcerted by the unexpected compliment that she just stared blankly at the mint green suit with its little fitted jacket and short straight skirt. She hadn’t bought it for its colour, but out of respect for the icy winter weather back in London. The suit was made from pure cashmere with matching dyed fake fur collar and cuffs to the jacket.
‘Thank you,’ she replied, having to fight the rather pathetic urge to blush because he had said something nice to her.
A small silence fell, she wasn’t sure why. The two of them stood there, seemingly imprisoned by it, she with her head lowered and he—well, she didn’t know what he was doing because she didn’t dare look. But the sudden tension between them was almost palpable. Then someone was opening the outer door of the plane and, thankfully, the strange tension was broken.
He left the aircraft first, obviously expecting her to follow. She did so reluctantly, to find another car was waiting for them at the bottom of the short flight of steps—a silver Mercedes.
The sun was shining and the air was much warmer than it had been back in England, but not so hot that she didn’t appreciate the warm suit she was wearing.
Alexander was striding round to the driver’s side of the car while their luggage was being stowed in the boot. Taking a deep breath, Mia stepped up to the passenger door and then, on a strange kind of compulsion, she paused to glance across the shimmering silver bonnet towards him.
And there it was—the first time that their eyes truly met. Her heart stopped, the breath squeezing painfully in her stilled lungs. He looked grim, those dark eyes frowning back at her with a resentment that utterly belied his earlier compliment.
He hated and despised her for bringing him down to this level. And, what was worse, she didn’t even blame him. She hated and despised herself! So why should it hurt?
Yet it did. Of course it hurt. She had feelings, like anyone else! It was her eyes that dropped first, hiding the sudden sharp stab of pain she was experiencing—hiding the deep, dragging sense of self-loathing with which she was having to live.