Sale or Return Bride

‘That’s right, I do.’ His smile was sardonic. ‘But I’m not going to quite the lengths that you are to achieve that goal. For money you are prepared to tie yourself to your greatest enemy. A man that you clearly hate—’

A sudden attack of panic assailed her. She’d revealed too much. He mustn’t back out of the deal. ‘I didn’t say that—’

‘You didn’t need to,’ he said drily. ‘It is apparent from every flash of your eyes, from the way you hold yourself and from all the things that you don’t say, that you hate me with every bone in your body.’

Alesia could barely breathe as she cursed her stupidity.

Her grandfather had warned her that the man was clever and she’d ignored him. Had dismissed everything he’d said as yet another part of his plan. But in this case he was right. Sebastien Fiorukis was clever.

He was clever, dangerous and every bit a match for her grandfather.

‘I don’t hate you,’ she lied hastily and he lifted a winged brow.

‘I should warn you that I am a man who prefers honesty,’ he said softly, ‘even when it is distasteful. You’ve just admitted that you’re prepared to marry a man that you hate for money. Now, what sort of person does that make you, I wonder?’

She almost choked with outrage. He made her sound dreadful. If only he knew why she wanted the money, he might not be so swift to judge her.

She stared him in the eye. ‘Let’s just say that I’m more than satisfied with the financial arrangements that are to be a part of this contract.’

The accusation was so false, so far from reality, that for a wild, uncontrolled moment she almost blurted out the truth. But to confess the truth would be to blow the whole deal. And she needed this deal for her mother. What did it matter what he thought of her? What did it matter if he thought she was a money-grabbing gold-digger? If he discovered her grandfather’s shoddy treatment of both her and her mother then he would never believe that her grandfather wanted this deal for her benefit. He’d realize that her grandfather was so far from being the ‘family man’ that he was pretending to be that something more sinister was afoot.

He’d sense that her grandfather was after revenge.

‘Well, you’re prepared to marry the granddaughter of your greatest enemy just to get his company. And you already have your own company that makes you billions. So what sort of a person does that make you?’

‘Rich enough to afford you,’ he responded in cool tones, his eyes hard as they scanned her pale face. ‘Your opinion of me is as low as mine is of you, which should make us extremely well-matched. It will be a pleasant change not to have to charm a woman when I come home tired from a day in the office. I think marriage may suit me after all.’

‘You wouldn’t be able to charm me if you tried,’ she said stiffly, made furious by his overwhelming arrogance. ‘And, just for the record, I’m not remotely interested in experiencing your superior bedroom technique. That isn’t what this marriage is about.’

‘Is that so?’ He smiled and stepped closer to her and suddenly she was aware of nothing but heat and she wondered how on earth she was going to be able to stand living in Greece. The atmosphere was so still and oppressive that she could barely draw breath. Her skin tingled and buzzed and she felt strange.

‘This is a business arrangement,’ she reminded him coldly, and his dark eyes gleamed.

‘A business arrangement—’ He repeated her words thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on her face as he studied her every reaction. ‘Tell me—do you know how babies are made, Miss Philipos?’

The temperature of the air surrounding her seemed to increase dramatically.

Colour flared in her cheeks and her toes dug into the sand. ‘What sort of a question is that?’

‘A sensible one,’ he replied smoothly, ‘given that the production of a baby is generally preceded by sexual activity, with or without “superior bedroom technique”. Tell me, does your “business arrangement” include sexual activity, Miss Philipos?’

Totally shocked by the lethal intimacy of his tone and the sudden shift in the focus of the discussion, her eyes widened and she gave a soft gasp.

‘I—I don’t—’

‘No?’ His tone hardened and his gaze was unsympathetic. ‘And yet that is what this deal is all about. Tell me, Miss Philipos, just how exactly do you envisage this “business arrangement” taking place? Do you intend to bring your briefcase to my bed?’

She inhaled sharply as all sorts of uncomfortably blatant images assailed her brain.