Sale or Return Bride

‘Have a lie down before dinner—’

They walked into the villa and Alesia’s eyes widened as she glanced around her. When they’d visited the island for that first meeting, she hadn’t actually set foot inside the house itself.

The living area was huge and light, decorated in blues and whites with acres of cool creamy marble. Exotic plants nestled in the corner of the room and on the walls hung several huge, brightly coloured canvases. ‘It’s beautiful—’

‘My cousin designed it,’ he told her, pausing by her side. ‘She has her own interior design business. She is responsible for the paintings as well.’

‘She’s very talented,’ Alesia breathed and then her eye settled on the grand piano in the corner of the room and she gave a gasp of pleasure and surprise. ‘Oh!’

He followed the direction of her gaze with a quizzical frown. ‘You play?’

Alesia hurried over to the piano and ran a hand lovingly over the wood. ‘Yes.’

His eyes narrowed and he gestured towards the piano. ‘Be my guest.’

She flushed and shook her head. ‘No—it’s fine. I don’t—well—’

‘You don’t what?’ His voice was soft. ‘You don’t want to tell me that much about yourself? Was that what your grandfather told you, Alesia? To hide the person you really are?’

Her gaze flew to his and she stared at him in consternation. ‘I—’

‘We’re married now, agape mou,’ he said calmly. ‘The deal is signed and sealed. Nothing you do or say can change that. It’s time to relax and be yourself.’

‘I am myself.’

He gave a wry smile. ‘No. You’re back to being the zipped-up version of yourself. Last night, I suspect, I had a glimpse of the real person.’

Dismay flickered through her. ‘I had too much to drink—’

‘And clearly that lowered your inhibitions sufficiently for you to reveal your true self,’ he drawled, dark eyes glittering as he surveyed her with no small degree of amusement. ‘I discovered last night that my little kitten has claws.’

She flushed and bit her lip. ‘You upset me—’

‘A lapse that won’t occur again,’ he slotted in smoothly, reaching out a hand and pulling her towards him. ‘I discovered that my wife has a personality which I suspect she obediently buried on the orders of her grandfather.’

Alesia swallowed. ‘I—’

‘From now on I want you to be yourself,’ he commanded, sliding a strong hand around her waist and pulling her against him. ‘I want to know everything about you. No secrets.’

No secrets.

Alesia closed her eyes. He still believed that her mother was dead, killed alongside her father. But to have told him the truth would have revealed that her grandfather hated her and that this marriage had nothing to do with mending fences and everything to do with revenge.

If he discovered the extent of her deception—if he discovered everything—then there would be no containing his anger—

At some point he was bound to find out and the thought of his reaction just sickened her.

‘I need to lie down—’

Sebastien muttered something under his breath in Greek. ‘You are never touching alcohol again,’ he vowed, taking her hand and leading her through to the master-bedroom suite.

Like the rest of the villa it was an elegant and simply decorated room and Alesia glanced around and then looked through the open glass doors on to the shady vine-covered terrace and beyond that to the large swimming pool. ‘It’s amazing.’

Apart from the pool, of course, but she intended to ignore that.

Suddenly she realized that the villa was a home in the way that his Athenian mansion never could be. It was full of personal touches that revealed secrets about the owner. And it was wonderfully private and quiet.

Quiet.

‘Where is everyone?’

He frowned. ‘Everyone?’

She waved a hand. ‘Usually you are surrounded by staff—’

He gave a wry smile. ‘This is my retreat. My private bolt-hole. I don’t think it would fit into that category if I filled it full of staff, do you? This is the place I come to forget my responsibilities as an employer.’

She stared at him. ‘We’re on our own here? Just us?’

‘Just us.’ His voice was velvety smooth and she felt her heart miss a beat.

Suddenly she was aware of every vibrant, masculine inch of him.

Reminding herself that only last night he’d been wrapped around another woman, she lifted her chin and met his eyes with a challenging gaze.

‘So who cooks, Sebastien?’

‘We share it,’ he said smoothly, his glance not flickering from her face. ‘A boat delivers fresh produce on a daily basis. Discovering what is in the parcel is half the fun.’