Kostas's Convenient Bride

“I know he forced you to go with him, but didn’t he have his minions pack up you and your mom’s apartment?”

“He might have given me a chance to pack my own things, but I was so resistant to going to Greece with him that his bodyguards had to force me into the car and the airplane after that. He disposed of almost everything, believing I needed nothing from my previous life in America.”

“Your dad is a real ‘bull in the china shop’ kinda guy, isn’t he?” And the man’s ways were guaranteed to drive wedges between Barnabas Georgas and his only, very strong-willed, son.

“Yes. He does not consider his actions in light of the feelings of others.”

“Maybe no family is better than that kind of family.”

Andreas surprised her by shaking his head. “No. He will be an adequate grandfather and our future children deserve to know where they come from.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” Andreas sighed as they climbed the stairs to the turret in the folly. “My father’s proclivity for bullish action is not what I wanted to talk about.”

“It’s not?”

“No. As I said, he threw out everything of my mother’s, but he did have his bodyguards pack up some minimal clothes for me, until such time as he could replace them, and my box of mementos because if a boy my age kept one, clearly what was inside was treasured.”

“He told you that?”

Andreas pulled her into a surprisingly deserted overlook. “He did.”

So, not a complete monster, but she knew all too well how devastating it was to be uprooted and lose everything familiar. It had happened to her often enough in foster care, and it had not gotten any easier with the repetition.

“And?” She really didn’t know where this was going.

Andreas pulled a small velvet bag out of his pocket and gave it to her.

“What is this?” she asked, even as she loosened the drawstring to pull out a delicate silver chain.

On the end was what looked like an antique pendant, a silver oval locket about twice the size of a quarter. The front was etched with a fine filigree, a Greek cursive K worked into the center.

“It’s gorgeous.”

“My mother always thought so.”

“This was hers?” Kayla asked in wonder.

“It was in my box of keepsakes, the only piece of her jewelry not disposed of by my father.”

“I’m sorry,” Kayla said, sharing his pain.

“I was too, but the other pieces weren’t valuable.”

“Still, they were hers.”

“Yes.” He reached up and brushed Kayla’s cheek. “You may look inside if you like.”

She wasted no time opening the locket. Inside was a miniature formal shot of a young boy, maybe ten years old, his eyes and jawline very familiar.

Kayla smiled at the precious image, and the one of the beautiful woman in the opposite oval. “Was this you, and your mom?”

“Yes. The locket is now yours, to do with what you will.” His expression was hard to read, almost like he was waiting for her to reject the gift.

Touched beyond anything, she choked out, “It looks old.”

“It has been handed down through many generations of Kostas. Traditionally, it was given to the eldest son for his wife, but my father gave it to my mother when they disowned her.”

“Compensation for losing her family?” Kayla asked in disbelief.

“My mother said it was a reminder that while they could not acknowledge me, or her, if she insisted on keeping me, they still loved her.” Oh, the cynicism he infused that word with.

“You said the family depended on the Georgas empire for their livelihood.”

Andreas shrugged, dismissing that consideration. “They could have moved, found another place to work. Anything but give up their daughter for the sake of expediency.”

“You would never do that.”

“No. My children will know that they come before business concerns, or the approval of others.”

“She kept it, the locket. It was important to her. And then she gave it to you?”

“Just before she died, yes.” Andreas’s jaw tightened. “She treasured it, just as she treasured the letters her mother wrote her, despite the fact my grandmother refused to buck tradition and have a public relationship with her disgraced daughter.”

“The only disgrace was the way her family treated her.” Of that Kayla had no doubts.

Melia Kostas had been an amazing person, not the kind of mom to abandon her three-year-old child at a truck stop. Kayla was glad Andreas had had that kind of mom, at least until he was fourteen.

He leaned down and kissed Kayla’s temple, like he was saying thank you for her words. “I agree.”

“But you still treasure this heirloom” She could see it in the way Andreas looked at the locket dangling from her fingers.

“Very much. It is the only thing I have that belonged to my mother, but it is also an opportunity to continue a Kostas tradition, only make it my own. That was important to Mama.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” To do with as she pleased. He’d said so, but the only thing she could imagine doing with the necklace was keeping it.

“I am. One day, you will pass it on to our oldest child.”

So, he assumed she would continue the tradition, but she found the expectation made her happy, not stifled. “Oldest born child?” she clarified.

“No. The oldest child we bring into our family, boy or girl. My son or daughter will know that traditions connect us to past generations, but we are not bound by them.”

Emotion choked Kayla’s throat even tighter. “You are going to be a wonderful dad.”

“I strive to excel.” Another man might be joking when he said something like that, but she knew Andreas wasn’t.

A wave of love for this incredible man washed over her, the necklace in her hand giving her a tiny spark of hope that their upcoming marriage would not be as lacking in emotion on his side as he claimed. The man wanted to give her a part of the one person in the world he’d ever admitted loving.

“Put it on me?” she asked.

Andreas’s gaze darkened with some unnamed emotion. “By all means.”

After doing the clasp, he brushed his lips against her nape. “There. Perfect.”

Kayla spent the rest of their tour in a happy daze, the weight of the locket a constant reminder that Andreas valued her on a level he did not anyone else. Was that love?

Could the emotion exist without the words?

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTER ANOTHER INCREDIBLE night of sightseeing, followed by a romantic dinner and lovemaking that lasted into the wee hours, Kayla got to sit next to Andreas in first class for their flight home.

He was solicitous, but then that wasn’t exactly new. However, Kayla saw his actions through new eyes. When he ordered her favorite drink, when it became clear he’d called ahead for a special dinner prep for them, when Andreas offered to play cards rather than losing himself in work during the five-and-a-half-hour flight, she felt cherished.

Kayla also recognized he would have done those things for her, had in fact in the past, even if they had not become lovers again. She knew he wasn’t that caring with his girlfriends, or anyone else. Full stop.

She didn’t want to dwell on what it might mean. Six years ago, she’d believed he loved her despite the lack of words. Had even thought he would propose when he told her he had a proposition for her. When it turned out he wanted her to join him on his upcoming business venture, but in order for them to work together they had to stop having sex—and he’d put it just like that—Kayla’s heart had broken. And she’d learned to doubt her own intuitive sense about people.

Yet she couldn’t help feeling like there was more to her and Andreas in the emotional arena than he was willing to admit, was even beginning to wonder if there always had been.

The following weeks fell into a pattern. Kayla spent the day wor

king, but Andreas was always there at the end of the day to take her home, or out to dinner, to a play or a performance at one of the theaters in downtown Portland. After which she would return to his condominium with him, where they’d plan a surprisingly big, formal wedding, as well as going over the houses—what Kayla privately considered mansions—the property broker had found for them to look at, and always, always, always end up making love before sleeping together in Andreas’s bed.

“What’s the rush with the wedding?” Kayla asked one morning after a fun but exhausting evening of tastings at the caterer’s and wedding cake samplings.dpg!

Andreas adjusted his tie in the mirror, his bespoke suit immaculate. “You know that once I’ve made up my mind, I prefer to act.”

Kayla slipped into her shoes. “You do realize most people take a year or more to plan a wedding of this magnitude?”

“Our guest list is not that large.”