The Greek Tycoon's Bride

‘Thank you.’ It was stiff but the best she could do. The whole area was scattered with plump sun loungers and several tables and chairs, and she could see a vast brick-built barbecue in one corner and a pretty wooden sunhouse in another. Sophy glanced about her and then forced herself to say, ‘This is very pleasant, idyllic in fact.’

He nodded, leading the way to a table and four chairs, and they had no sooner seated themselves than Christina, the plump little housekeeper, appeared, pushing a trolley containing an iced jug of lemonade and three glasses, along with a plate of sweet pastries and another of small rich cakes. A large bowl of fruit and several smaller bowls of different kinds of nuts and dried fruits was also placed before them, Christina smiling and nodding at them all before she ruffled Michael’s curls and waddled back off to the house. It was some snack, Sophy commented silently.

‘I like her.’ Michael was blissfully unaware of the tense atmosphere as he helped himself to a nut-filled and honey-flavoured pastry. ‘I like everything here.’ He took a big bite of the sugared pastry before adding, ‘Don’t you, Aunty Sophy?’

Sophy sipped her lemonade and her voice was carefully neutral when she said, ‘Yes, it’s lovely, Michael.’

Andreas was looking at her, one eyebrow raised provocatively and she couldn’t believe anyone could say so much without uttering a word. ‘This is good,’ he said gravely, ‘as you have two whole weeks to enjoy everything.’

If there was one thing she loathed it was sarcasm, Sophy thought militantly, glaring again before she could stop herself.

As soon as Michael had finished his pastry he made his way to the pool edge, sitting down and removing his socks and shoes and dangling his feet in the water as he hummed a little tune to himself, completely happy for the moment as only children can be.

Sophy had had to restrain herself from stopping the child’s move, but Michael’s departure had somehow heightened the tense atmosphere to breaking point. She was almost relieved when Andreas said quietly, ‘He seems remarkably well adjusted already to the loss of his father,’ as he turned to look at her.

Sophy made the mistake of meeting the dark eyes trained on her face, and the way they all but pinned her to the spot brought a thudding in her chest which made her hand tremble slightly. ‘They…they weren’t close,’ she said stiffly, wrenching her gaze away with some effort. ‘Theodore spent most of his time working.’

In actual fact she had always felt Theodore was a severe father and that Michael feared rather than loved him, but she wasn’t about to tell Andreas that. Besides, she could be wrong. She had only seen the two of them together a few times.

‘You didn’t like my brother.’ It was a cool observation.

Surprised into looking at him again, she saw the intense eyes were narrowed and thoughtful but not hostile. Nevertheless she wasn’t about to trust him an inch, and she stared at him for a moment before responding, ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Am I wrong?’ he asked smoothly.

‘He was Jill’s husband and she loved him.’

‘That’s no answer,’ he said softly.

‘It is to me.’ She raised her chin, her soft mouth tightening as he continued to study her with what Sophy considered to be intrusive intensity. ‘The only answer you’re getting.’

‘You’re very defensive about your sister’s marriage,’ he said at last, his body inclining slightly towards her as he spoke.

Was she? She didn’t think she was, but certainly there was something about Andreas which made her uptight and on edge. ‘No, I’m not,’ she said sharply, moving her body irritably. ‘But I happen to think their relationship was their own business.’

‘I agree absolutely,’ he said with silky composure, ‘but if I remember rightly it was your attitude towards Theodore I was remarking on.’ He smiled what Sophy considered a supercilious smile.

‘And as you’ve only met me today and haven’t seen your long-lost brother for years, I would suggest any remarks of that nature are extremely presumptuous,’ she shot back quickly. Game, set and match.

He settled back in his seat, shifting his large frame more comfortably, and her senses registered the movement with acute sensitivity even as she steeled herself not to reveal a thing to the lethal grey eyes. He was very foreign, very alien somehow—far more than Theodore had been—but she didn’t think it was altogether his Greek blood that made her feel that way. It was the intimidating nature of his masculinity, his bigness, the muscled strength which padded his shoulders and chest and the severe quality to his good looks. There was no softness anywhere, and in spite of herself she recognised such overwhelming maleness fascinated even as it threatened.

He looked cynical and hard and ruthless, but sexy too, very sexy. She bet he would be dynamite in bed.

The thought was such a shock that it literally brought her upright in her seat. She couldn’t believe she’d thought it about him.

‘What is it?’ The grey gaze hadn’t missed a thing.

‘Nothing.’ She forced her voice to sound cool and remote. ‘But I would prefer to get back to the house now, if you don’t mind.’ She eyed him firmly, sensing what his answer would be.

‘I do.’ His voice was very smooth. ‘There are still the cars to see, if you remember?’

‘It’s Michael who’s interested in cars, not me,’ Sophy said sharply, ‘as you very well know. I don’t want to see them.’

He stared at her with an enigmatic smile which didn’t reach the cold intent eyes. ‘That is a pity,’ he drawled easily, ‘because you are going to see them.’

‘I see.’ She was glaring again, she thought angrily, but she just couldn’t match his irritating composure. ‘Hospitality and putting a guest at ease aren’t your strong points, are they, Mr Karydis?’ Each word was coated in sheer ice.

He stiffened at her words and then laughed quietly, his face hard. ‘Would you be offended if I said it depended on the guest?’ he said with insulting politeness. ‘Or that women like you make me think my countrymen were right to wait until 1952 before they gave the female sex the right to vote?’