Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife

It had all changed on the day they’d arrived in London after their honeymoon.

Suddenly she’d morphed into one of those women he’d spent his adult life mixing with. She’d become obsessed with her appearance. It was as if she’d become a different person. Leandro had given up surprising her at home for a few stolen hours of daytime passion because she’d never been there. She’d spent her days in beauty salons and her nights out partying with him. And she’d spent hours scouring the celebrity gossip, looking for pictures of herself.

Leandro, up to his ears in work as usual, had been unable to work out what had happened to the girl he’d married. Had it all been an act designed to trap him and then she’d shown her true self? Or had it been marriage to a billionaire that had changed her? After all, up until her marriage with him she hadn’t had the funds to allow her to indulge her apparent obsession with clothes and beauty products.

And yet over the past two days she’d seemed almost oblivious to her appearance.

Whoever said that women were a mystery hadn’t been exaggerating, Leandro mused, stretching out his legs and making himself comfortable.

He looked at the sleeping baby and felt a rush of emotion that shook his self-control.

Alone, abandoned, a mother who had used him as a pawn…

Determined not to continue down that path of thought, he dug his BlackBerry out of his pocket, intending to distract himself with work. Then he heard a noise and glanced up to find Millie standing in the door of the dressing room, which connected directly to both bathroom and bedroom.

Leandro slipped his phone back into his pocket. ‘That was quick.’ He scanned her appearance, noticing with surprise that she’d left her hair curling and loose in its natural state and that the only make-up she was wearing was a shimmer of clear gloss on the curve of her lips. She was wearing a simple green top over a pair of trousers. ‘I was expecting to wait at least an hour while you picked your outfit.’

Colour touched her cheeks and she gave a wan smile. ‘There didn’t seem much point in that. I’m no longer trying to impress you.’

Leandro frowned. ‘Is that what you used to do?’

‘Obviously I wanted to look my best.’ She stooped, sliding her slender feet into the pair of shoes she was carrying.

Still pondering on her comment, he noticed that the only concession to her old look was a pair of killer heels. ‘You never used to wear trousers.’

There was something in her expression that he couldn’t read. ‘I find trousers comfortable. Is it a problem?’

‘Not at all.’ They had problems far deeper than her choice of wardrobe, he mused, watching as she walked across to the cot and checked the baby again. Something was very wrong with her, and he had no idea what. ‘Are you ready? Alyssa has laid dinner on the terrace.’

Millie stared down at the baby as if willing him to wake up and save her, and Leandro stared at her frozen profile in mounting frustration, searching for clues.

Was she looking at the baby, wondering if it was his? Or was there something more going on here?

Reaching into the cot, she tucked the sheet tenderly around the sleeping baby and then withdrew her hand slowly. ‘I’m ready.’

She spoke the words like someone preparing to walk to their doom and her whole demeanour was such a dramatic contrast from the last time they’d stood in this villa that Leandro wanted to close his hands around her shoulders and demand answers.

But his years in business had taught him when to speak and when to stay silent and he chose to stay silent, his expression neutral as he urged her towards the terrace.

The evening was only just beginning, he reminded himself. They had plenty of time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MILLIE felt sicker and sicker. Wishing the baby would wake up and rescue her, she pushed the food from one side of her plate to the other, unable to face the thought of challenging her churning stomach by eating.

Candles flickered on the centre of the table and the silence of the warm evening was disturbed only by the insistent chirping of the cicadas and the occasional splash as birds skimmed the beautiful infinity pool, stealing water.

Across from her, Leandro said nothing. He lounged with masculine grace, his relaxed stance in direct contrast to her own mounting agitation. He wore a casual polo shirt, the simplicity of his clothing somehow accentuating his raw masculinity. Whatever he wore, he looked spectacular, she thought helplessly, putting her fork down and giving up the pretence of eating. The beauty was in the man himself, not in the way he presented himself. It didn’t matter whether his powerful shoulders were showcased by an elegantly cut dinner jacket or a piece of simple cotton fabric, Leandro was all man. And that fact simply increased the churning in her stomach.

Or perhaps it was just because she was now more conscious than ever of the differences between her and the women he usually mixed with.

Had he had an affair?

The question played on her mind over and over again, a relentless torment fed by her own massive insecurities.

It was typical that he didn’t try and put her at her ease, she thought desperately. He was so confident himself, he never thought that someone else might not be so comfortable in a situation.

‘Alyssa must have been slaving all day,’ she said, making polite conversation. ‘The food is fantastic.’