The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife

Tessa nodded. She’d always loved children. She’d dreamed of having some of her own when she found the right man. A man who loved her as she did him.

A sob rose in her throat and she choked it back. If she gave in to the welling pain that filled her, she was afraid she mightn’t know how to stop.

Her hopes for love, her stupid dream that Stavros genuinely cared, were turning into a nightmare of epic proportions. If it didn’t hurt so much it might even have been funny, the way she’d built herself up for such a fall. Him, wealthy, experienced and hard-edged, falling for ordinary Tessa Marlowe. Tessa, who’d never really belonged anywhere, and especially not here in a tycoon’s mansion.

But it hurt so much just breathing against the stabbing pain that even a bitter grimace was impossible.

‘Good,’ he said with a taut smile of satisfaction. ‘Then we can try for a family straight away.’

His voice seemed to come from a long way off and Tessa frowned. Had she heard him right? She swiped her tongue over her dry lips and swallowed down the burning lump of hurt in her throat.

‘You want me to have your babies?’

‘They will be beautiful babies, glikia mou, if they take after their mother. Can you visualise them, our son, our daughter?’

She must be imagining the emotion reverberating in his deep voice. She was knocked off balance by the appalling clarity with which she could indeed see their children in her mind’s eye: playing here at the villa, learning to swim in the pool or down on the shore. Small, sturdy boys with their father’s eyes and firm chin. A tiny daughter who could wrap her dad around her little finger.

It’s not fair! Tessa wanted to wail out loud, thrash and hit out against his hold, rage against a cruel fate that offered her this travesty of what she most desired. The trappings of the life she’d dreamed of. Trappings that would only torture her with the knowledge that she didn’t have the one thing that meant everything: Stavros’ love.

Tessa pulled her hands from his grip and smoothed them up her arms, trying to warm herself against the chill that seeped out from her bones.

‘It’s time I had children, to carry on the Denakis name. It will please my father, who’s desperate to see another generation. But I want a family as well, Tessa. It’s time for me to settle down with one woman.’

He leaned close, trailing his knuckles down her cheek in a caress that made her eyes flutter closed. The bitter-sweet awareness of her own desire made her tremble. The traitorous clamour of her body, urging her to take what he offered and be grateful, rose to tempt her.

‘I want you to be that woman, Tessa. You know we’re perfect together.’ One last bright flare of hope ignited as she waited for him to continue. Maybe she had it wrong. Maybe he was so used to discussing business, not emotions, that this was just his way of explaining how he felt.

‘You will be my wife, the mother of my children and my hostess. I will give you the respect and care you deserve. You will have a generous allowance too, to use as you wish, so you can feel completely secure.’

Tessa concentrated on breathing through the lacerating pain that tore at her as his words confirmed her fear. He wanted her because she was convenient. That was all.

It was strange how dreams could shatter and one foolish heart break, all in absolute silence.

A shadow passed over Stavros as he watched Tessa’s face. Her eyes were closed, as so often while he stroked her cheek. That was one of the things he liked about her, her intense physical responsiveness to his lightest caress.

But it wasn’t ecstasy he read in her features.

Suddenly, in an unaccustomed jangle of nervousness, he realised how desperately he wanted to hear her agree. To have her assent to his plan, her soft lips forming the word he most wanted to hear.

Strange that, in all his planning, he’d never considered the importance of hearing her say ‘yes’. It was a foregone conclusion, but still…

Obviously years of concluding deals with water-tight agreements had him wanting closure.

But when she opened her eyes he realised something was wrong. Even in the soft light he could see the strange, unfocused look in her eyes. The tiny furrows that drew her forehead tight hinted at pain. His hand, as he moved to cup her jaw and splay his fingers over her neck, registered a definite tremor.

‘Tessa! What is it? Are you unwell?’

Mutely she stared up at him and anxiety coursed through his bloodstream. Her skin had paled and he could hear her soft, uneven breathing, as if it cost her an effort just to inhale and exhale. He lifted his other hand to her shoulder, to curve round her slim back and pull her close. She was rigid beneath his touch.