The Greek Commands His Mistress

He tilted his head to the side. “Have you married one before?”

“Marcus wasn’t a stranger when we married. We met at university.”

“A love match?” he asked, one dark brow raised.

Her stomach twisted uncomfortably, a bit of numbness starting at the tips of her fingers and slowly spreading upward. “Yes.” She swallowed hard. “Just another reason I find it so easy to entertain the idea of a mutually beneficial alliance. I am not searching for, nor do I anticipate having, another marriage like my first. I don’t want one.”

“I can promise you a marriage between the two of us would be nothing like the one you shared with your first husband.”

She didn’t doubt it.

“Fine. Don’t send me back. Give me one month. I will help you with the finer points, and we can engage in a kind of courtship. A bit of something for the media, something for your people. If it doesn’t work out, there is no harm. But if it does... Well, it solves several problems.”

He stood abruptly, his movements fluid. It reminded her of the strike of a viper. So still in the moment just before the fatal hit was administered. Over before you ever knew it had occurred.

“Dowager Queen Olivia of Alansund, we have an accord. You have thirty days to convince me that you are indispensable. If you are successful, I will make you my wife.”