The Greek's Hidden Vows

Shadows crossed her eyes, gone before he could work out which expression they’d projected. A minute later, her pursed-lipped smile was contained, her nod diplomatic as she settled down on the sofa, crossed her long shapely legs and stared coolly back at him. ‘Okay, let’s get on with it, then,’ she said.

Again that image of her in the plane returned, more forceful than before. He banished it before it could take control of his blood again, sending it streaming south. He pressed the remote and the first designer appeared on the screen.

He let the effusive greetings wash over him while he watched Alexis. His reference to work hadn’t quite pleased her. Why? Because she wasn’t averse to making this...personal? He shifted in his seat, the pervasive heat in his groin determined to make its presence felt despite his iron control.

Focusing his attention on the screen, he cut across the greetings. ‘This isn’t about me, Agatha. Save your enthusiasm for Alexis. She’s the one in need of your services.’

He saw Alexis’s eyes widen a touch before she regained control. ‘I prefer simple lines in evening gowns,’ she said, her voice a touch husky.

Agatha, after a moment of frank appraisal, nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’ She clicked her fingers to someone off-screen and a clothes rail appeared beside her. ‘I have several here for you. Is the event black tie?’

Alexis glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. He shook his head, settled deeper into his seat and, to his eternal surprise, didn’t die of boredom as the designer began displaying gown after gown for her inspection.

What he did do was observe Alexis, perhaps more keenly than he’d ever done before. And during that scrutiny, he was reminded that he didn’t know much about her, save for her curious need to save a certain orphanage, the rumours about her entanglement with her previous boss and the fact that his assistant was currently single.

His wife.

For the duration of their time on Drakonisos, he needed to stop thinking of Alexis as his executive assistant and more as his wife. After all, if he was putting distance between himself and that truth, so would others.

He returned his attention to the clothing audition, saw the gown Agatha held. ‘My wife will take that one. Add it to the pile,’ he said of a turquoise gown that he was certain would look exquisite against her flawless skin.

On screen, Agatha gaped in surprise. Beside him, Alexis’s breath caught.

He reclaimed her hand, meshing his fingers through hers. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked, voice pitched low as he nodded at the gown.

Eyes wide and a touch guarded, Alexis nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. I was about to add it to the collection.’

He raised their joint hands, brushed his lips over her knuckles. Felt a shiver unravel through her. ‘Good. Keep going,’ he instructed, settling back with her hand on his thigh.

‘I...um...can I see that peach one?’

Christos curbed a smile, the wicked thought that he’d come within striking distance of ruffling Alexis’s feathers pleasing him. When she attempted to extract her fingers surreptitiously a minute later, he tightened his grip.

Eight gowns later, Agatha was dispatched with instructions to courier them to Drakonisos and he was dialling the next designer. Marlene was equally effusive, just as predictably stunned when he addressed Alexis as his wife.

While he hadn’t purposefully hidden his marriage from the world, his notorious need for privacy had made tabloid journalists give up on unearthing gossip about him a long time ago. It seemed he’d done too good a job if no one in his native Greece knew he was no longer single.

Twelve gowns later, Alexis determinedly pulled her fingers from his. Reluctantly, he let go. ‘I think I have enough to be getting on with.’

‘Of course, Mrs Drakakis. And may I offer my congratulations again on your marriage?’ Marlene said.

Alexis gave a stiff nod. ‘Thank you.’

Christos was busy absorbing the primitive possessiveness mushrooming through his system at hearing her addressed as Mrs Drakakis when Alexis clicked off the screen and turned to him. ‘What are you doing?’

The arm he’d thrown over the back of the seat rested inches from her shoulder, his fingers brushing her silky hair. Unable to resist, he let the strands caress the back of his hand, mildly stunned by the sudden pulse of arousal on recalling how it had felt to bury his fingers in that glorious chestnut mass. ‘Marlene is a rabid gossip. News of our marriage will be all over Athens before the hour is out. Since Georgios has been busier than I thought, we have a lot of ground to make up.’

Her lower lip disappeared between her teeth, sparking further fireworks in his blood. ‘You know her well enough to trust her to be your carrier pigeon?’

He shrugged. ‘We’ve crossed paths a few times.’

Her nostrils fluttered and her lashes swept down. ‘Do I want to know?’

‘Not if I want to tarnish my image as the soul of discretion. But I’m pleased you’re jealous,’ he teased.

She scowled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not jealous. I meant do I want to know in case I have to...in case we cross paths?’

It felt like the most natural thing in the world to brush his fingers over her hot cheek. To watch her eyes turn liquid, hear her breath become a little jagged. A perfect reaction for anyone who might be watching. Regardless, the push and pull of it, the fact that Alexis wasn’t falling eagerly into his arms like every woman he’