The Greek's Hidden Vows

He shrugged. ‘It’s good that you know something about my past. It’ll cau

se less gossip.’

Right. Their fake marriage. The reason she was here in the first place. Alexis wasn’t sure why the reminder hurt.

Silence stretched between them again, longer, tauter this time. A muscle throbbed at his temple as he slowly exhaled. Alexis faced the horizon, trying to block the curious pain blooming in her chest. At least now she knew why he wanted to claim this island so badly.

Abruptly, he reached out for her hand, his gaze telling her this part of their conversation was over. ‘Come. I have something else to show you.’

Before she could think about it, she placed her hand in his.

The flare of pleasure in his eyes was gone as quickly as it arrived, but she’d seen it. And deep inside felt a peculiar thrill that she’d pleased him. But even as they boarded the buggy, a niggle remained. One she suspected would grow into a chafe.

Because despite being a part of his professional life for so long, despite being his pretend wife right now, he was shutting her out. Lumping her in with everyone else he held at arm’s length.

Why should you be singled out? You think you’re special?

She was the one who’d always been left behind. The one discarded by her mother and lied to by her first and only lover. And as much as the reminder bruised her heart, she needed it to keep herself in check. To tell herself that this was simply a moment in time. One soon to be in her rear-view mirror.

They travelled north, and this time when they stopped, she stepped out and accompanied Christos to the edge of a steep cliff with a stunning beach below.

‘Wow. That’s breathtaking. Is there a way to get down there?’

He nodded, a rare softness stealing over his features. ‘I dug steps into the cliff when I was fourteen.’ He indicated the rock formation and the frantic waves dashing against them. ‘Before that I used to climb down over the rocks.’

She blanched, staring at the jagged peaks. ‘That looks incredibly dangerous.’

He shrugged. ‘Danger isn’t an issue when you believe you’re invincible. But, yes, the steps spared my grandmother a grey hair or two.’

The fondness in his voice attracted her gaze. ‘Do you miss her?’

Expecting another shrug, she was surprised when he nodded. ‘Very much,’ he said, then slid her a sideways glance. ‘Now you know another interest of mine, in case it comes up.’

She frowned. ‘I’d prefer to get to know you organically, rather than have you list interests like I’m compiling a dossier.’

His gaze turned piercingly keen. ‘You believe I’m not invested in this? Is that your way of saying you require a more intimate knowledge of me?’

Her mouth dried, her heart see-sawing wildly in her chest. ‘That’s not what I said!’

Patrician nostrils flared, his hand rising to drag through his wind-ruffled hair. ‘But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps we should examine this from a different perspective.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ For a moment she was terrified he was about to call the whole thing off. Even more terrified that the feeling didn’t stem from knowing Hope House would suffer. It was purely selfish, born of the need to not be done with this...whatever it was.

But he was speaking. And her breath caught at the words that spilled from his lips.

‘Perhaps it needs full and complete authenticity. It needs for you to be my wife, in more than name only.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT WAS DIRECTLY because of that wild, unfettered leap in her heart that Alexis pivoted and started to walk away. Deep in her bones she knew that she would’ve screamed yes otherwise.

She stumbled to a halt when he wrapped his fingers around her arm. ‘You need time to think about it—’

‘No.’

He waited a beat. Two. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘No?’

‘I don’t need to think about it. The answer is no.’ Her words were firm enough, but she betrayed herself by trembling a moment after they emerged.