The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife Read online

He’d recognise it anywhere, had known it all his life. The heavy circlet of gold, worn but still solid. Its centrepiece engraved in ancient times with tiny, exquisite carvings of a hunter in a chariot facing a lion at bay. It had been designed for use untold generations ago as a seal—the unique identifying mark of a man of power.

  And now it was the symbol of his house, the House of Denakis. A stylised version of that chariot, that hunter, graced the doors of Denakis showrooms in Athens, Paris, London, New York, Zurich and Tokyo.

  He reached out a hand and touched the engraved surface of it. His finger connected with the warmth of her palm and he watched her tremble.

  So, she was nervous after all. With her uptilted chin and her unwavering gaze she gave the appearance of pure confidence.

  He focused again on the ring. No doubt about it: it was genuine, and completely out of place on that cheap, low-grade chain.

  He frowned. Explanations were required.

  Stavros picked up the ring between his fingers, again letting his fingers brush the flesh of her palm. This time she whipped her hand away, leaving him in sole possession of the ring.

  He pretended to study it, but his attention was focused on her. The rapid rise and fall of her breasts. The soft sound of her breathing. The warm, soap scent of her, more evocative somehow than the expensive designer perfumes to which he was accustomed.

  He let the ring drop, watched the shabby chain fall against her plain T-shirt, between her breasts. Then he raised his eyes again to hers.

  Even now, prepared for it, he was stunned by the sight of her. When he’d entered the room he’d thought he’d seen a ghost. Reaction had stopped him in his tracks, churning his stomach.

  Tessa Marlowe had died four years ago in an explosion that claimed a dozen lives. He had a copy of her death certificate! Officially she didn’t exist any more. The memory of the day she’d died, of mangled vehicles in that shambles of a street, lived with him still.

  And yet, here she was. Alive. The shock of it reverberated down his spine.

  Fleetingly he wondered what poor nameless woman had been wrongly identified after the bomb blast. For he knew with a bone-deep certainty that this was Tessa Marlowe. The high, slanted cheekbones, the elegant neck and heart-shaped face. The slight frame. And of course those eyes.

  He’d seen green eyes before, but not this pure, unadulterated emerald. He’d only found that shade in the most priceless gems. Collectors would pay a fortune for a stone that colour. It was unique.

  This was indeed Tessa Marlowe. She was unmistakable.

  Yet she looked different. There was a gravity about her, and something in those bright eyes that hinted she’d seen far more of life than she wanted to. Physically she’d altered as well. She’d been slim the first time he’d seen her. Now she seemed fragile. Yet her lips were soft and well-shaped, an invitation in that lovely face.

  Oh, yes, he remembered that mouth. Had dreamed of it for months after their meeting.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ It emerged from his throat as a growl.

  He saw her eyes widen.

  What? She thought he’d welcome her after all this time? Accept her presence with no questions or recriminations?

  She couldn’t be that naïve. Anyone who tried to make trouble for him lived to regret it.

  ‘I came to return it. The ring.’ As she spoke she reached for the catch on the chain and opened it. It took an inordinate amount of time for her to slide the ring off and hold it out to him.

  Her hand was shaking when she did so.

  ‘And why are you bringing it back to me now? What possible explanation could you have?’

  Her brows drew together in a good imitation of confusion. ‘It’s yours. I know you didn’t intend for me to have it this long. If I’d been able to return it earlier, I would have.’ She thrust her hand out, closer to him.

  On a surge of angry energy he reached out and clasped her whole hand in his, curving his fingers right round hers, pressing the heavy ring into her flesh, into his.

  ‘I’m to believe that it took you this long to contact me? Four whole years?’ His tone was rough, furious, and he felt its effect as her hand quivered in his.

  He felt no remorse. This woman deserved no sympathy. She’d deceived him for years.

  He refused to acknowledge the temptation she represented as he held her warm, soft flesh against his. His body might respond to her. But he had mastery over such basic instincts.

  Whatever her game she’d more than met her match with Stavros Denakis.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ he said with heavy emphasis, ignoring the flare of what looked like pain in her eyes. This woman was no innocent, he reminded himself. She was out for all she could get. She’d just found a more intriguing way than most to try cashing in.

  ‘But it’s true,’ she answered. ‘I found out about you and I had to come.’

  Of course she did. She’d found out precisely who he was and immediately come running. Almost unbelievable that she hadn’t worked it out before. But he could understand her decision to locate him once she knew his identity. And the size of his personal fortune.

  Her lower lip trembled for an instant, then stilled. She straightened her shoulders and stared straight back at him, the picture of unblemished innocence.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve come at a bad time. It wasn’t my intention.’ She tugged at her hand but he kept it in his. ‘I’ll leave now that you have your property.’

  Would she indeed? And no doubt she’d head to the nearest Press agency to sell her story.

  Not if he had anything to do with it!

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ he murmured.

  ‘But I’m not welcome here. That much is obvious.’

  He nodded, acknowledging her point. ‘True. But do you really think I’m so stupid as to leave you to your own devices?’

  She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest. He cut her off with a single, abrupt gesture.

  ‘Enough! I want no more of your pretensions to innocence. You will not leave the estate until I have the whole story from you and we come to some…accommodation about our circumstances.’

  ‘Accommodation?’ She shook her head, the very picture of bewilderment.

  Her dramatic skills had improved in the last four years, he realised. When they’d first met he’d found her amazingly transparent in her thoughts and emotions. Now look at her: an accomplished liar.

  ‘Of course, an accommodation. The situation requires careful…attention.’ His fingers tightened round hers as he smiled.

  ‘You surely don’t think I’d have celebrated my betrothal quite so publicly tonight if I’d known I still had a wife?’

  CHAPTER TWO

  TESSA’S lungs emptied on a whoosh of air as she stared up at him, towering over her. She’d known his engagement was a possibility yet still his announcement shocked her, leaving an inexplicable hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  Her reaction was nonsensical. He didn’t have a role in her life. His relationships were no business of hers.

  And yet he’d called her his wife.

  The idea was preposterous. They both knew the truth: she’d never been that.

  Tessa flinched at the travesty of a smile he turned on her. It was feral. His expression had a definite predatory edge that made her wish she were anywhere but here.

  She could almost imagine him sinking those strong white teeth into the soft skin at the base of her neck. Either that or wrapping his hands around her there to squeeze the breath out of her.

  She looked into his face and for a moment knew fear.

  Then logic asserted itself. He might be furious, might even want to hurt her, but Stavros Denakis was a civilised man. His previous actions had surely proved that.

  She wondered if he had any idea how tightly he grasped her hand.

  ‘You’re hurting me,’ she said quietly, staring back into his blazing eyes.

  He blinked and released her. Instantly blood throbbed back into
her hand and she winced.

  There was a thud as the heavy ring dropped and she looked down to see it spinning on the table between them. Above it was her outstretched palm, dwarfed by his. Both bore the deep imprint of the ring. Her hand was trembling and she drew it sharply back into her lap, massaging it against the pins and needles that prickled there.

  ‘My apologies,’ he said in a toneless voice.

  But her mind was already racing, processing the information he’d flung at her in such lashing anger.

  ‘You’re going to be married?’

  ‘Amusing, isn’t it?’ Yet there was no humour in that flash of a smile he turned on her. ‘I find myself in the unlikely position of possessing both a wife and a fiancée.’

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment against a sudden swirl of dizziness. What on earth was he talking about? None of this made sense. Not to a brain numbed by shock and far too many wakeful hours.

  ‘I…don’t know what to say.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ His deep voice was taunting. ‘You surprise me. I thought you’d have it all worked out. Have you decided on a dollar amount? Or is it euros you prefer?’

  ‘Euros? I don’t understand what you’re talking about.’ She shook her head and the room spun, the edges of her vision blurring, making her glad she was sitting.

  There was definite meaning behind his words. An accusation even. But her mind was too foggy to process it.

  She should have stopped to rest in Athens before coming on to find him. Should have taken the time to sleep and eat and recuperate. From South America to the United States—an internal flight there and a lengthy delay due to some engine problem—then the leg to Greece, the chaos of Athens and finding her way by public transport to the port of Piraeus; finally the ferry to this island in the Saronic Gulf…Tessa’s journey had taken forever.

  She was exhausted. The shock of discovering him to be alive and the strain of uncertainty had kept her too keyed-up to sleep even through the tedium of flights and airport delays. Now the long hours without rest took their toll.

  She grasped the edge of the table with both hands and clung on tight. With an effort she forced back the strange, woozy feeling and stiffened her spine.

  Tessa wasn’t up to facing this angry stranger. He wasn’t at all like her recollection of him. Had her treasured memories been a case of rose-tinted glasses?

  Perhaps she should have heeded the cowardly inner voice that had urged her to forget what had happened and scurry home to Australia. To leave the past safely buried.

  ‘Enough!’ His hand thumped, palm down, onto the table and she jumped, eyes widening. ‘I don’t have time for these games. It’s obvious why you’re here. There’s no point prevaricating.’

  His dark eyes probed as he thrust his head close to hers across the table. Animosity vibrated from him in waves, a palpable force. He was trying to intimidate her into submission.

  And he was doing an excellent job!

  Tessa shoved her chair back and got to her feet, thankful for the support of the table. Her knees were absurdly wobbly.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going? You’re not leaving until I’m finished with you.’

  And when would that be? His fury seemed infinite.

  ‘I’m just putting myself on a more equal footing,’ she replied quietly. She’d learned through bitter experience that a calm demeanour was the safest response to hostility.

  His glare didn’t diminish but he stood back a fraction from the table. Even that small distance seemed to lessen the impact of his sparking hostility and she breathed more easily.

  ‘So how much do you want?’ he demanded.

  ‘How much what?’

  ‘Sto Diavolo!’ He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. ‘I have no patience for this game of yours. Can’t you manage a direct answer to a simple question?’

  ‘I would if I knew what the question was.’ She raised her palm when he would have spoken. ‘But perhaps it will ease your mind if I tell you I didn’t come here to get anything from you. I only came to return the ring.’

  She looked down at the table and the familiar ornament lying on the wood. She blinked. Stupid to feel sentimental about a chunk of jewellery. She didn’t need a good-luck charm any more.

  She raised her eyes to his and strove to ignore the sizzle of heat that blasted out at her.

  ‘There’s one more thing,’ she said, shuffling her feet as a wave of tiredness made her unsteady.

  ‘Of course there is. At last we come to it.’ There was contempt on his face and a sneer curved his sensual mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest. The action emphasised the power of his body, even in a superbly tailored evening jacket. He radiated sheer masculine force.

  She shook her head and then wished she hadn’t, when it took a moment to bring him back into focus.

  ‘I came to thank you,’ she said and held out her hand to him.

  That took him aback. He stared at her as if he’d never shaken hands before.

  ‘If it hadn’t been for you,’ she continued, ‘I’d be dead. You saved my life.’ Her lips curved in a tentative smile. ‘I never got to thank you for that, but I wanted you to know that I didn’t forget. I owe you so much.’

  ‘What nonsense is this?’ His brows furrowed heavily and he ignored her gesture. His face grew dark with anger.

  Disappointed, Tessa let her arm drop, her stamina seeping away at his abrupt rejection. The nervous energy that had kept her on the move for days bled away in a sudden rush, leaving her weightless and hollow.

  She ought to sit, regroup and gather her strength. But his eyes held her spellbound.

  ‘You have the temerity to come here and spin me such a tale? Do you take me for a fool?’ He stood up straighter, stretching to his full, formidable height. ‘I’m afraid for your sake I’m not that gullible. It takes more than a pretty face to convince me.’

  The muscles in Tessa’s abdomen tightened convulsively as if absorbing a physical blow—such was the repressed violence in him. She set her jaw and ignored the sudden glaze of heat behind her eyes.

  ‘In that case there’s no more to be said.’ Tessa dragged her gaze from his. So he didn’t accept her gratitude. That was his problem, not hers.

  What sort of man could be so lacking in charity or trust or even common courtesy?

  ‘I’ll be on my way, then.’ His face was a blur as she turned quickly to her backpack, propped against the wall. Giddiness rocked her as he stepped close, hemming her in.

  ‘I said, you won’t leave until we sort this out.’ He glared down at her, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, the epitome of male displeasure.

  ‘And I’ve said all I intend to say.’ Tessa snapped her teeth shut against the temptation to call him a bullying lout. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’ve covered everything. You’ve got your ring and it’s time for me to leave.’

  ‘Straight into the waiting arms of the paparazzi? I think not.’

  The Press? What would she want with the Press? Tessa had other concerns right now, like where she’d find a bed for the night. She hoped she had enough cash to tide her over. She hadn’t counted on a side-trip to Greece when she’d begun her journey in South America.

  It had been a stupid impulse after all.

  ‘I have no intention of talking to any paparazzi,’ she assured him. ‘So you can stop your fuming and step out of my way.’

  Slowly he shook his head and she read the speculation in his dark grey eyes. Speculation and something else she couldn’t put a name to. But it made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

  ‘You have no right to keep me here.’ Despite her rising anxiety Tessa’s voice sounded oddly muted, as if it came from a long distance away.

  His lips curved up in a sinister smile that sent a shudder rippling down her backbone.

  ‘What about the right of a husband?’ he murmured. ‘A husband long-deprived of his lovely wife.’

  He stepped close, bringing his powerful body flush aga
inst hers. His heat radiated into her, searing her through her shabby clothes. But it was the menace in his expression that sucked the breath from her.

  ‘You’ll find that here in Greece we take the responsibilities, and the rights of a husband very seriously.’

  Something sizzled in his eyes, molten hot and arresting. She felt her reaction to it, a feverish trembling, right through her body. That frightened her more than anything else.

  ‘Then I hope your fiancée knows exactly what she’s getting herself into.’ Tessa angled her chin up and met his eyes, glare for glare. But she had no hope of outfacing him. This man had all the self-confidence of a deity.

  ‘Enough! This is getting us nowhere.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ She sidestepped him and took a single pace towards her luggage. Then two things happened simultaneously: a large hand manacled her elbow and her shaky legs crumpled beneath her.

  She heard a rush of incomprehensible invective as the room tilted wildly and his dark eyes—large and disbelieving—swam before her.

  She stiffened her knees, bracing herself against the dizziness. But already he was bending, scooping her up in his arms and tucking her tight against his deep chest.

  He encompassed her. Those strong arms curved underneath, supporting her. His powerful chest cushioned her. And his eyes…his eyes meshed with hers, lustrous and compelling. She felt as if they looked into her very soul. Everything about him radiated male dominance: from the bunched muscles binding her close to the arrogant jut of his nose. Even the hint of dark shadow on his hard jaw reinforced the impression of primal machismo.

  And something else, something unsettling eddied around her, drawing her nerves to attention. It was the scent of his skin, she realised as she gazed at his mask-still features. Like tangy pine and earthy male. Intriguing. Inviting. Tempting.

  Blood pulsed loud in her ears as she stared at him. Her heart throbbed heavily, echoing the steady beat she felt deep inside his chest. Her mouth dried as the world shrank to just the two of them. Close, closer…

  ‘There’s no need for this,’ she whispered, surprised to find her voice so reedy. ‘I can stand.’