The Greek's Hidden Vows
Viewing it rationally, Alexis knew she was getting the better end of the deal. Seriously, who wouldn’t want a twice-yearly semi-vacation on the jaw-dropping jewel in the Aegean that was Drakonisos?
Except, she’d been unprepared for what those two weeks entailed.
Those extras rushed to the fore now as she stared back at Christos. As she tried, and failed, to keep her pulse under control. To keep that blaze from igniting in her belly, the rush of her blood roaring in her ears.
They would be required to share his suite. Again.
They would be required to hold hands in Costas’s presence. Again.
They would be required to act, for all intents and purposes, as husband and wife. Again.
‘Do I need to remind you of the terms?’ he pressed at her silence.
‘No, but...’
Things have changed, the voice in her head supplied the words she swallowed hastily.
Since that night in his Mayfair penthouse and the insanely delirious encounter on his living-room sofa. Since she’d felt Christos up close and ferociously personal; experienced the heat and taste of him, the lethal, primitive power lurking beneath his hand-stitched suits. The passionate mastery he could command at his fingertips.
‘But?’ he demanded, his voice a touch harder.
‘You have the Kyrios case to work on. Aren’t you looking at a possible new hearing?’
The reminder of the case he’d just lost tightened his features. ‘It will be taken care of by the end of the week. I’ll fly back to attend a hearing if need be, but I doubt it’ll come to that.’ His voice oozed the arrogant confidence that his opponents hungered to cut down to size but never quite succeeded in doing.
‘What about the rest of your caseload?’ she asked, although she knew the answer. While admittedly a few cases like the Kyrios one saw the inside of a courtroom—the Drakakis name was usually enough to get opponents to settle out of court—there were few that inevitably demanded his presence in London. It was why he was able to rule his law empire from anywhere in the world. Why he had a superyacht moored on the Greek Riviera and half a dozen luxury homes around the world at his disposal.
‘Are you worried that I’ve forgotten how to do my job on the strength of one loss, Alexis?’
The query was edged in steel. A reminder that this man was a seasoned predator through and through, to be underestimated at one’s peril.
‘No, of course not. I’m just wondering if it might be wise to postpone the trip to Drakonisos for a little while.’
His head tilt resembled a hawk eyeing a hapless rabbit. ‘Are you sure it’s not something else bothering you?’
Electric tension ratcheted up her spine. ‘What could possibly bother me?’ she parried, striving for flippancy that emerged half-baked.
‘Perhaps you’re concerned whether your last wifely performance will be up to par this time around?’ he suggested silkily, his gaze combing her face with narrow-eyed intensity.
She stiffened, the veiled insult striking deep. ‘Excuse me?’
‘I think Costas is becoming a little sceptical about our relationship.’
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘We may be required to stay longer this time around. I’m merely suggesting you give your performance a little more...polish in case my suspicions are right.’
That dart burrowed deeper. ‘I didn’t realise you were so disappointed with my performance last time. But perhaps I should be the one concerned here? Perhaps I’m working with limited resources.’
Her return parry was met with an arrogant twist of his lips, as if the great Christos Drakakis couldn’t possibly stage a sub-par performance. That merely taking on the role of pretend husband guaranteed its success under his artistry.
And damn him, he was right in his confidence.
On their last visit to Drakonisos, the brush of his lips across her knuckles that’d felt far too natural, for instance.
The mind-altering presence of his hand in the small of her back had made her aware of every craving cell in her body.
As had the lingering touch of fingers as he passed her a piece of fruit. The heavy-lidded faux passion in his eyes when he offered to apply her sunscreen.