Sale or Return Bride

His smile mocked her. ‘I’m afraid my own security team is naturally suspicious. Let’s just say that a Philipos landing on the island creates a certain level of tension.’

She glanced briefly at his powerful shoulders and wondered why he needed a security team. He looked capable of taking on an entire army single-handed should the need arise. For a man who spent his days involved in business, he was supremely fit and athletic. Perhaps it was the hours he spent in bed with women, she mused idly, stepping to one side to avoid a dip in the path.

‘My grandfather creates tension wherever he goes.’ She spoke without thinking and then remembered too late who she was talking to and coloured. ‘I mean to say—’

‘Don’t feel you have to excuse yourself to me,’ he drawled softly. ‘Grown men shiver in their shoes when your grandfather enters a room. It is part of the reputation he has built for himself. He manages by fear.’

But didn’t Sebastien have the same reputation?

Wasn’t she about to marry a man exactly like her grandfather?

Looking at the hovering bodyguards, she gave a shiver and made a decision. ‘All right, let’s walk on the beach.’ She stooped to remove the shoes her grandfather had insisted she wear. ‘Three-inch heels and sand don’t go together.’

She saw the brief flash of astonishment in his beautiful dark eyes and realized her mistake immediately. Doubtless the women that he dated would be capable of climbing Everest in stilettos if the need arose.

‘I like to feel the sand between my toes,’ she improvised quickly, cursing her stupidity and making a mental note to take a crash course in suitable footwear as a matter of urgency.

‘Be careful not to cut your feet on the rocks,’ he said smoothly, reaching out a hand and taking hers in a strong grasp. Long fingers curled over hers and she felt an almost irresistible urge to drag her hand away. ‘Those shoes are stunning and do amazing things for your legs. But on reflection I agree that they’re probably better suited to a nightclub. I have several favourites so I can promise you that you’ll have ample opportunity to wear them in a more suitable setting.’

Nightclubs?

Alesia glanced at him blankly, realising with no small degree of consternation that he clearly believed her to be a real party-girl. What would he say if she confessed that she’d never actually been to a nightclub in her life? That her demanding working pattern ensured that she rarely if ever had an evening off to enjoy such indulgences?

Quickly she steered the conversation away from such dangerous subjects. ‘So, if you don’t trust my grandfather, why did you invite him to your island—?’

They had negotiated the rock successfully and yet strong fingers still held her securely. ‘This deal is important to me for many reasons.’ He glanced at her thoughtfully. ‘You are surely not pretending to know nothing about the feud that exists between our families?’

Her breathing quickened and she snatched her hand away. ‘Of course I’m aware of the feud—’

My father was killed on your father’s boat; my mother and I were both injured.

Emotion rose inside her until she could hardly breathe. Until it threatened to choke her. She felt him watching her and struggled for control.

Alesia turned away in distaste, still clutching her shoes in her hand. Only the most rigid self-discipline allowed her to continue the conversation with this man.

‘I think before we go any further you should know that, despite the fact that my grandfather would want me to, I don’t play games. I can’t pretend something I don’t feel,’ she said coldly. ‘I don’t flirt and I refuse to pretend that this marriage is anything other than a business arrangement between two parties. We each get something we want.’

‘And what exactly is that, Miss Philipos?’

‘Money,’ she said succinctly, lifting her chin and looking him in the eye. ‘I get money.’

‘Straight to the point. You are the only living relative of the richest man on the planet and yet still you want more,’ Sebastien drawled, his gaze suddenly speculative, ‘which probably makes you the biggest gold-digger in history. Tell me, Alesia—’ he said her name with mocking emphasis ‘—just how much money is enough?’

By now they were standing on a stretch of perfect golden sand. Alesia concentrated on the man next to her, keeping her back to the azure-blue sea which sparkled and shone in the intense heat of the Greek summer sun. To her it represented nothing but terror.

‘Given your own wealth, I could ask you the same question. You already have a company that nets you billions and still you want what belongs to my grandfather.’