The Greek's Virgin Bride

Pain forgotten, Nikos surged after her and intercepted her at the threshold to the dining room.

'Enough!' He was angry now. His hands closed over her shoulders and he gave her a brusque shake. 'Behave yourself! There is no need for such a ludicrous reaction to what I have said!'

As he spoke, it dawned on Nikos that that was what was angering him most of all—her instant and total rejection of the notion of marrying him! He found it intolerable! Here he was, having steeled himself for the past couple of weeks to doing the unthinkable—marrying at all, and to a complete stranger— and then finally, tonight, to have all his worries so deliciously and unexpectedly set aside by seeing just what a peach the Coustakis heiress actually was... and here she was having a fit of hysterics over it! As if the prospect of marrying Nikos Vassilis was the most repellent in the world!

Andrea arrowed her hands and forearms up between his and jerked them sideways with a violent movement to free herself.

Her heart was pounding now—panic, disbelief and above all hot, boiling anger was pouring through her.

She could not believe what she had just heard—couldn't believe it! It couldn't be true! It just couldn't!

Her face twisted. "This is some kind of joke, yes? Talking about me marrying you! Some idiotic, warped idea of a joke, right?'

Nikos bristled. A joke, the idea of marrying him? A father­less bastard raised on the streets of Athens? His face darkened. He looked scary suddenly, she realised.

'You are the Coustakis heiress,' he said coldly. 'I am the man who will take over the company when your grandfather retires. What else but we should marry?'

'The Coustakis heiress?' Andrea echoed in a strange voice. A laugh escaped her. High-pitched. Distorted. She took a deep, shuddering breath. 'Let me get this right. You, Mr. Vassilis, want to marry me because I am Yiorgos Coustakis's grand­daughter and you want to run his company for him—is that it?'

He assented with a brief, glancing nod of his dark head. "That is so. I am glad you understand.'

Completely missing the ironic tone of his voice, she took another breath—a tight one this time. 'Well, sorry to disappoint you, chum, but it's no go. You'll have to find yourself another heiress to marry!'

She made to turn away. She felt in urgent need of escape, not just into the villa, but up to the sanctuary of her own room.

An arm barred her way in.

'You are offensive.'

The voice was soft, but it raised the hairs on the back of Andrea's neck.

She turned back slowly. Nikos Vassilis was very close. Far too close.

‘I am offensive? Mr. Vassilis, you are a guest in my grand­father's house and I suggest you start remembering your re­sponsibilities in that role.' She spoke in as forbearing a manner as possible, which was extremely taxing in the circumstances. 'I make due allowance for the different customs in Greece, but if you imagine that kissing me on a terrace somehow converts instantly into a proposal of marriage you are living in the Middle Ages! You have not, I do assure you, compromised me into marrying you! So you can just forget all about black­mailing my grandfather into marrying me off to you just be­cause I was stupid enough to fall into your arms like a...like an idiot!”

Her anger was with herself as much as him. This was what came of letting herself be swept away by a drop-dead gorgeous stranger on a starlit terrace! He suddenly got ideas of catching himself a rich wife. A sudden, inexplicable stab of pain went through her as she realised that that was all the kiss had meant to him—it had been nothing to do with her, just a cheap way to entrap the girl he thought was Yiorgos Coustakis's heir!

The Coustakis heiress he had called her! Hysterical laughter threatened in her throat. God, it might almost be worth indulg­ing his insane pretensions just for the joy of seeing her grand­father's reaction when he demanded marriage to save the 'hon­our' of the offspring of a woman he'd called a slut to her face—and her daughter's!

'Blackmail?' The word ground out. Furious outrage seared in Nikos voice. To have his behaviour likened to that of Yiorgos Coustakis when he had forced his father-in-law's hand to get his daughter and her dowry was insupportable. 'How dare you make such an accusation!'

Andrea threw back her head. 'What else should I call it? Sliming around after me like a dog sniffing out a bone! Well, let me tell you something, Mr Vassilis—my grandfather will laugh in your face at the idea of your marrying me to get hold of Coustakis Industries!'

The scorn in her voice enraged him.

'You are mistaken.' His voice was icy. 'It was his idea in the first place.'

She stilled.

'Are you saying—' her voice was choked '—that my grandfather is in on this?' Her insides were hollowing out all over again. 'My grandfather wants me to marry you?'

'What else?' Could it really be that she did not know? That Old Man Coustakis had not bothered to tell his granddaughter what his plans were? Another of his 'little jokes', Nikos thought grimly to himself.

'Let me get this straight' Andrea's voice was controlled. 'My grandfather wants me to marry you—'

'In exchange for my taking over Coustakis Industries when he retires, which will be shortly after our marriage. It is all agreed between us,' Nikos elucidated. He felt in no mood to spare the girl's feelings any more. Her reaction to the discovery of their betrothal was insult enough to warrant his spelling out the financial grounds of their marriage very, very clearly.

'How very convenient.' Her voice was flat. And still very, very controlled.