The Greek's Marriage Bargain

The blonde was looking at her and smiling. ‘Mrs Kanellis?’

Once again, the words sounded shockingly wrong. Like waking up and finding you were in someone else’s body. Lexi wondered how it would go down if she blurted out that she was not really Mrs Kanellis. That she and her estranged husband hadn’t shared a bed in almost two years and that Xenon had steadfastly refused to grant her the divorce she wanted. How would the blonde react to that?

But she said none of these things. Instead, she gave the polite smile which was expected of her even if behind it she was gritting her teeth. ‘That’s right.’

‘Mr Kanellis is expecting you. He said to ask whether you would like anything to drink after your journey.’

Tempted to ask for a mild sedative, Lexi nodded. ‘A cup of tea would be great.’

‘Tea it is. I’ll bring some right in.’

A discreet buzzer sounded on the desk and Lexi watched as the blonde smoothed her hand over her already immaculate hair. And that unconscious gesture told her more than a thousand words ever could, because she’d seen it so many times before. She’d seen it with shop assistants and bar staff, with airline stewardesses and female executives. It was a mixture of adoration and availability and it told her that Xenon could still get women adoring him, without even having to try.

‘You can go in now, Mrs Kanellis.’

‘Thanks.’ Tucking her bag under her arm, Lexi headed for the inner sanctum and walked into Xenon’s office, shutting the door behind her.

It was an impressive room. One hundred and eighty degrees of glass overlooked some of the most expensive real estate in the capital. In among the skyscrapers were dotted the roofs of famous monuments, looking so out of scale that they would have seemed more at home in a doll’s house.

But Lexi barely noticed the view. Xenon dominated that, just as he dominated everything else around him. He was seated at his desk, surveying her with the stillness of the natural predator. His black hair was tousled, as if he had been running impatient fingers through it. He’d loosened his tie—unless the smooth blonde had been responsible—revealing a glimpse of olive flesh which looked warm and inviting. It was only a little thing, but Lexi hadn’t been prepared for it. It was too intimate. It reminded her of too much. She knew that the hair began at the top of his chest and arrowed all the way down to his groin. She knew the way she used to scrape her fingernails through it and the way he used to moan in response. It was a mental picture she would have preferred not to have created and it made her cheeks grow hot.

‘Sit down,’ he said.

Her legs felt weak and she was glad to sink into the chair opposite his. Beneath the filmy folds of her dress, she pushed her knees together, looking at the various trophies around his office. There was the Oscar carelessly standing next to a set of leather-bound books by the great Greek philosophers. On one of the walls hung the platinum disc awarded for the colossal sales of his film’s soundtrack and there were several citations from various business schools. A small sculpture by a former Turner Prize winner stood next to a sofa on which he sometimes catnapped, if he was working all night. All in all, it was a very impressive room which spoke volumes about its occupant.

‘So.’ She looked at him with challenge in her eyes. ‘Here I am.’

‘Here you are,’ he agreed slowly.

‘Why here?’ she questioned. ‘I mean, why bring me to your office? So you could work right up to the last possible minute, I suppose. Or to remind me of what a successful man you are?’

‘Surely you don’t need reminding of that?’ he mocked.

‘Funnily enough, your achievements aren’t the first things I think about, on waking.’

‘It’s neutral territory,’ he said. ‘Plus you know that I never like to waste time. Why wait for you at the house, when I could be doing something constructive here?’

She met the hard gleam of his blue eyes. ‘So work still rules, does it?’ she questioned. ‘You’re still that man who can never say no to earning an extra dollar even though you’ve got the kind of wealth which could probably bankroll the economy of a small country.’

For a moment Xenon didn’t answer. Instead, he just mused on the fact that nobody had ever spoken to him with quite the same degree of insolence as his wife. He watched as she pressed her beautiful knees together and thought she looked a damned sight more respectable today than when he had turned up announced. No. That was the wrong word. You could never use the word ‘respectable’ about a woman he could imagine in various states of undress, every time he looked at her.