Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife
SUN CHARA

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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017

Copyright © Sun Chara 2017

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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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Ebook Edition ©April 2017 ISBN:9780008105747

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Also by Sun Chara

About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

“I’ll take that one.”

“The green gown, Monsieur Leonadis?”

“No, the model.”

The man chuckled. “The model’s not for sale, monsieur.”

“You wanna bet?” Michalis Leonadis loosened his tie, lifted an arrogant eyebrow at the sales manager of the Haute Couture show in Paris, and geared up for battle…not with the manager but…with her. Tracking the model every step with his slitted gaze, he slipped a hand inside the pocket of his jacket and extracted a card, then a pen.

Julia, strutting down the runway and steaming up the ballroom in the Hôtel de Crillon had cost him a marriage, and a billion dollars in a Tokyo deal gone belly-up. As if that hadn’t been enough, his head of security informed him she’d recently given—

Applause broke out, splintering his thoughts, and spiking his fury…his passion. For revenge.

She’d ripped his heart out. Shredded his pride. Cost him.

Her untimely exit had rocked his sphere and his bank account. She nearly bankrupted him. He’d put everything on hold to search for her, and to clean up the legal mess his uncle’s amour had created when she’d charmed…er…scammed the old guy into signing half the Leonadis fortune to her and ultimately her heir. The fortune Michalis had slaved over years to amass.

He set his jaw, batted that distraction from his mind, and turned his laser sharp eyes back to the supermodel, his present dilemma.

When he found out Julia had been living it up in Paris, he’d shut her out, and scrambled to salvage his business and stay afloat—he’d waste no more time on her. He was better off without her.

A spike lodged in his aorta, but he ignored the sting.

He clamped his teeth, his breath rumbling in his chest and escaping through his nose in a hostile sound. How dare she keep that a secret from him?

Cold, calculating bi—the expletive stinging his tongue was smothered by shouts of “Brava!” from the audience.

He scrawled a message on his business card, adrenaline pumping him to action.

She’d definitely pay. He curled his lip. His way.

Michalis slapped the card in the man’s hand. “Make sure she gets it.”

The man glanced at the bold insignia of the Leonadis Cruise Line on the card and inclined his head. “Oui, Monsieur Leonadis.”

Michalis tuned him out.

He liked things simple. She’d been anything but.

He liked to keep his focus razor-sharp, his mind alert, his instinct in play and quantum leap over his competition. That biz acumen had held him in good stead when, years ago, he’d taken over his uncle’s run-down tourist boat rentals in Athens and built it into a mega international shipping line. At thirty-eight he still thrived on the thrill, the challenge. Julia’d been that, and he’d conquered her resistance, caught her; an unbidden smile skimmed his mouth, then morphed into a snarl.

He’d given her everything—he’d given her the world. And in return, at the first sign of rough waters, she’d jumped ship and created a tidal wave of confusion.

But now, she looked none the worse for it. And that rankled his ego.

The stylist had swept her sun-bleached hair up, and the dresser had fitted her into a body-hugging gown, matching her eyes and the emeralds dangling from her ears. The high collar and flared hem, a demure contrast to her sultry gaze, pouty mouth, and the sway of her hips as she worked the catwalk.

Worked the room.

Cool. Sexy. Seductive.

The male clientele salivated and the women gasped in admiration.

He smirked. So much for the sophisticated façade of the VIPs who’d flocked to the fashion extravaganza. His smirk turned into a guffaw. She’d gotten to them… engaged their imagination…triggering fantasies and loosening purse strings.

He should know. His already rock hard abs tensed. She’d gotten under his skin…his psyche. Shaking his head, he chuckled; an empty sound. Past tense…had. No more. The padlock on his heart and ice in his veins proved it.

He’d not end up a stooge like his uncle.

Nodding to the man holding his business card, Michalis strode to the exit, but couldn’t resist tossing her another glance over his shoulder.

A hot babe. He jutted his chin. A classy stunner. That’s what had attracted him in the first place—amusement tugged the corner of his lips. How did she manage to walk on those high heels? He shrugged, about to continue on his way, but then braked to a stop.

She paused, pivoted. And the fur stole slipped from her shoulders, the edgy cut of the neckline plunging to the small of her back.

His chest tightened, his hand fisted, a growl built in his throat.

Beneath the stage lights, her bare back gleamed smooth, flawless…and his fingers tingled, his memory kindling. He’d touched her…her skin hot beneath his fingers…his mouth nibbling down to the curve of her hip—he ground his teeth, his pulse thudding—he’d cupped her buttocks, turned her over, her breasts scorching his chest, his mouth on hers…she’d wrapped her legs around him, holding him close, and he had thrust deep inside her—

A crescendo of sound from the band splintered his erotic fantasy, and he blinked, gulping the growl away.

She inched off a long glove, tossed it to the audience and did the same with the other, to the eruption of wolf whistles. Then, dismissing her admirers with a quirk of an eyebrow, she placed a hand on her hip and sauntered away, the stole trailing at her feet. At the top of the ramp, she paused, glanced over her shoulder, hinted a smile, winked and disappeared back stage to deafening applause and cheers of, “Encore!”

Michalis grazed his jaw with his knuckles.

Her signals were practiced and unmistakable. Luring…snaring… vanishing.

She’d played that game on him, and every cell in his body sizzled with desire, but his mind defied the temptation.

The sensation warring inside him could be nothing more than his determination to recoup what belonged to him. What she’d stolen from him. He curled his lip in contempt and stomped from the ballroom, his pulse drilling into his ribs. His every move had to be a tactical tour de force to ensure a victory.

* * *

“Merci beaucoup.” Julia kicked off her shoes and thanked the wardrobe girl helping her from the gown, the chiffon a caress upon her skin.

Unclipping the emeralds from her ears, she set them on the dresser, and a sigh struggled from deep inside her. Not long ago, she’d owned countless such designer gowns, shoes, jewelry, and had the man—the life—to go with it. A sound gurgled in her throat, and the girl cast her an odd look. Julia swallowed and turned away, blinking back the tears pressing against her lids.

In just three months, her dreams had soured, her fairytale marriage to the Greek billionaire fractured, but—a tremulous smile traced her mouth—she hadn’t come away empty handed.

She pulled a sweater over her head and slipped into her jeans, sucking in her tummy to get the zipper and snap to work. She grimaced. A few more pounds still to lose, but with the tricks of the trade, she managed to fit into the designer threads. Unclipping her hair, she fluffed it with her fingers, let it fall to her shoulders and rubbed her scalp with her fingertips. A hint of hairspray tainted the air. She twitched her nose and glanced in the mirror. Her makeup would have to wait ’til she got home.

“Ah, chéri.”

She glanced up from slipping on her ankle boots and smiled. “Hey, Chachee, how’d it go?”

“Magnifique!” He kissed the tips of his fingers for emphasis.

“Of course, what else for Chachee Originals?” She grinned, plunked her wool beret on her head, grabbed her jacket and shoulder bag. “Brr.” She mocked a shiver. “Paris in the spring might be the stuff of dreams, but it’s freezing today.”

“Doesn’t have to be, chéri,” he teased, wiggling his pierced brow. “You have an admirer.”

“You’re terrific at boosting a girl’s confidence, Charles.” She smiled and stepped toward the exit sign above the door. “But I gotta go.”

“Worth checking this one out.”

“Some other time.” A man wasn’t her priority right now, not since Michalis—a pang pierced her heart, and she shook her head, dispelling the taunting image. Michalis Leonadis had been her colossal blunder, and she wouldn’t think about him. Not now. Not ever.

“Oh, no.” Charles slapped a hand on his forehead and another against his heart in mock despair.

She laughed, and he put the card in her palm, folding her fingers over it.

“I’d go for him myself but—” He winked.

She laughed the louder, for Charles was as straight as they came, with a wife and a couple of kids. But his flamboyant style: blue locks and bejeweled hands, often gave rise to rumors in this highly-strung, fast-paced fashion industry. So, he nipped them in the bud with his brash repartee.

“But since I won’t—” He took her by the shoulders, spun her around, and gave her a nudge out the door. “—how ’bout you go check him out?”

“I can’t, Chach,” she said. “I gotta get home.”

He shrugged, walked past her and raising a hand, pointed toward the lobby.

“Oh, okay, I’ll take a peek on my way out.”

His chuckle echoed back to her. It brought a twitch of amusement to her lips, and then she sobered. She owed him a debt of gratitude. If he hadn’t booked her on the show, she wouldn’t have made the month’s rent. At twenty-eight, and having been away from the fashion circuit for over a year, modeling opportunities were few and far between.

Walking down the hallway, she looped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and opened her hand. She glanced at the card and got socked in the stomach. A gasp shot from her mouth. Her head spun, her limbs shook, and her pulse raced. The familiar signature zoomed in and out of focus. 8 p.m. Le Bar. ML. Bold, direct, like the man.

What was Michalis Leonadis doing on her doorstep after a year’s silence?

Perspiration oozed from her every pore, making her sweater stick to her skin even in the air-conditioned corridor. Michalis Leonadis, the man she’d loved, once…and the man she now hated with every fiber of her being.

What did he want? Shivers iced her skin. What did he know?

Chapter 2

Could he know about—?

“Dear God, no.” Fear squeezed her heart, and her mouth felt thick with sawdust. A tremor ripped through her, and she collapsed against the wall, hyperventilating.

Julia choked down the bile rising in her throat and rushed into the bathroom. Gripping the counter, she leaned over the sink and sucked in mouthfuls of air, stemming the chills frisking her body. She twisted the faucet open, splashed water on her face and glanced in the wall-length mirror, the paleness of her skin evident even beneath her makeup.

“Michalis Leonadis.” His name fizzed between her teeth, acid on her tongue. She’d given him her heart, her body…everything, and he’d trampled on it. A whimper sounded from deep in her throat, and haunting memories flooded her mind…

“Michalis mou,” she’d called, unlocking the door of their Athens penthouse. The breathtaking view of the Aegean Sea always brought a lift to her heart and a smile to her face; but it was nothing compared to the joy bursting in her heart from the doctor’s news that she wanted to share with her husband of three months.

“Agape mou, you’re back early.” He walked from the bathroom barefoot, drying his hair with a towel, another towel tied around his hips. A dash of dark hair plastered to his sculpted chest, a sexy smile on his mouth.

Breath caught in her throat, her heart skipped, her stomach dipped.

This sexy hunk was hers. She smiled, and started to run to him.

The bedroom door opened and her step faltered, the smile wiped from her face.

“Michalis mou.” The woman giggled, tying the sash of a terry towel robe over the skimpiest of negligees. She teetered toward him on high-heeled slippers and stumbled into his arms. “I don’t think this is such a good idea, even for the honeym—”

“Apparently not,” Julia said, the words crackling from her frozen lips. She shot Michalis a lethal look. “You got caught.” Every nerve in her body twittered, and she swayed, but managed to stand her ground, her gaze darting from her husband to the other woman.

She couldn’t fathom the scene before her eyes. She blinked. Swallowed. Perhaps she’d wake up from this nightmare.

“I was going to tell you—” The words dissolved in his throat, and he narrowed his gaze, the navy flecks in his eyes darkening.

Julia staggered back a step and seized the door handle before she slithered to the carpet. Raw pain must’ve surfaced on her features, for he stepped toward her, the scent of his cologne stinging the gouge inside her.

She held up one hand, shaking her head.

“It’s not what you—” He glanced at his guest, and scrubbed his shaven cheek with his fist.

“I’m sorry,” the woman murmured, tripping back into the bedroom.

He nodded. “Julia—”

She backed away. At least it had been in the guestroom and not their bedroom…on their bed. For some perverse reason, the thought gashed her mind. A hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat, and she flew out the door.

The streets of Athens buzzed with activity. Shoppers, tourists and locals sat at outside tavernas, sampling souvlaki, spanakopita while others sipped Greek coffee, Coca-Cola or ouzo, the licorice flavored liquor. Bouzouki music serenaded to the blaring of horns and irate taxi drivers gesturing out the windows at other drivers.

Laughter. Life everywhere.

But Julia felt dead…except for the life growing inside her.

Aimlessly, she wandered the narrow roads, ignoring his mobile calls and ditching the chauffeur he’d sicced on her. Somehow, she made her way past the outdoor market and to the beach. She meandered through the crowds of sunbathers to a secluded patch beneath a eucalyptus tree. Hours drifted by, and she sat there, gazing out to sea, praying for an answer. The sea breeze cooled her cheeks, and by the time the sun turned the sky into a kaleidoscope of color, the initial shock had worn off.

At last, she came to a decision and picked up his next call.

“I’m flying back from the Mykonos office,” he said, his words cool through the airwaves. “We’ll discuss it tonight.”

“What time?” she murmured, detached…numb.

“It’ll be late because—”

She hung up, sickened by his betrayal.

An hour later, she’d packed, called a cab and headed for Athens International Airport, jetting out of his life…

Now, he’d blasted back into her life in Paris, and she wondered why.

But it didn’t matter. Her wounds had healed, and Michalis Leonadis could go jump in the Mediterranean for all she cared. She crumpled his card in her hand and was about to trash it when a couple of girls burst into the ladies room, their chatter shattering her thoughts.

Julia made her exit, biting her lip. Maybe it should matter to her. Michalis Leonadis did everything with purpose. Her throat constricted and her temples throbbed. Angst stabbed. She drew in a breath and eased up. There was no way he could know. None.

But just to be sure, she rummaged in her purse for her cell and called home, her matchbox-sized one-bedroom pad. “Mrs. Knightley, I may be a bit late tonight.” A pause. “Did anyone visit today?” A sigh of relief filtered from her mouth. “No? Okay.”

Michalis Leonadis did not know her secret. And he wouldn’t know. She pressed her lips tight, but her shoulders slumped. One day she’d have to tell him … and tell Amy about her father.

But not today.

Today was about leveling the playing field. She’d go and see why he was here, why he sought her out after a year’s silence. The battle lines had been drawn…the divorce would be final when he signed the papers. And he could do that from Greece via his solicitor.

She crinkled her brow. Did he think she’d take him to the cleaners? A brittle sound broke from her lips. Her eyes misted. She wanted nothing from him except what he’d already given her.

Bashing down the emotion, she steeled her nerves and walked across the atrium, each step a lead weight. She bypassed the crystal chandeliers, the needlepoint wall-hangings, the ornate furniture, the statues, and the opulent deco of this palatial Louis XVI historic hotel…but didn’t see them.

Knowledge was power. She must stack her arsenal to trump the powerful Greek she’d married.

Her past folly. She shook her shoulders. But it would not become her present, and certainly not her future. She fumbled in her step, and a smile feathered her mouth. Her future waited at home.

A moment later, she stood outside the near empty Le Bar. The fashion trendsetters would soon be descending to the delight of the cocktail waitresses waiting for customers and subsequent tips. Julia inhaled and exhaled several puffs of air, swiped her damp palms on her thighs, flicked a stray strand of hair off her shoulders and with her head held high marched into the intimately lit lounge. The melody from the pianist wrapped around her, soothing, but then turned abrasive.

She saw him.

A trickle of moisture between her breasts, her mouth went dry. He lounged at a table in the far corner of the room with drink in hand and clicked off a call on his phone.

Her heart thudded. Memories flooded her mind. Bittersweet, and she wished…but no, he’d destroyed everything they’d shared.

Destroyed her.

At that precise moment, he glanced her way, and the blue intensity of his eyes tacked her to the spot. Shockwaves ripped through her, rocking her world anew. She ground her teeth, determined not to feel anything for this man, except indifference.

The best defense was a good offense, so she stormed across the floor to his table. He at least had the good manners to stand up.

“Julia,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice jolting her senses.

“Michalis,” she murmured, her tone cool.

For a second or two neither one of them said anything, then he mocked a cough.

Resentment gnawed her insides. Not even a hello from him. This did not bode well.

“A drink?” he offered, motioning her to sit down.

“No thank you,” she murmured, standing her ground.

He sat back down, noted her defiance and waved to the waitress. “A sparkling water with lime.”

“You’ll have to drink it, Michalis.”

He hiked a brow, and sipped his bourbon on the rocks, his dark gaze glued on her. He only ever had one drink, max, of the hard stuff. Discipline. He always wanted to be in control of his faculties.

She smirked. In charge of everything and everyone. Including her. She wondered if the control tactics extended to his family. Then she blinked, realizing she knew very little about the man she married. It had been a whirlwind romance, a spur of the moment wedding at Our Lady Tourliani Monastery on Mykonos.

Emotion surged inside her, nearly suffocating her. She drew in a breath and exhaled a breath. A celebrity style wedding loomed on the horizon afterward he’d hinted. Under his magnetic spell, like a fool, she believed him. But no more. The magic had vaporized.

Then why are you quaking, and why is your heart pounding? She ignored the self-inflicted taunt, and at that moment, her stomach rumbled. Mortified, she slapped her hand over her abdomen.

“Hungry?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“No.” She’d skipped lunch and dinner to ensure she fit into the gowns, but seeing him again had made her lose her appetite. A sliver of a grin brushed her mouth. Something good might come out of this after all—a few lost pounds.

“Something amusing?” he asked, tone dry.

She shook her head and plunged into the depths. “Why are you here?”

He snared her in his sights. “Sit down and I’ll tell you.”

Chapter 3

Julia collapsed onto the velvet chair and licked her lips, the cherry flavor of her lipstick spiking her taste-buds.

He shuttered his eyes, his jaw granite hard, and his grip on the tumbler tightened.

“Okay, I’m sitting,” she said, her tone defiant.

He remained silent and, swirling the liquid in his glass, kept her on tenterhooks. A delay maneuver? A control tactic?

Julia took the moment of reprieve to study him. A Ralph Lauren jacket framed his broad shoulders, the Trump original tie a contrast to the white shirt stretched across his chest. His chiseled features bespoke of his Greek ancestry, his skin tanned, his hands…strong, capable, tender…in the way he’d touched her, held her, stroked her…loved her. Anguish tore through her. She’d laid her head on his chest, the swirl of hair tickling her cheek, his heart thundering in her ear…but that had been a million years ago.

Before he—

A whimper built inside her, ready to burst from her mouth, but she couldn’t let him see he still affected her. Too dangerous for her mind, her emotions, her world. She must remain immune to his charm, his magnetism, and his potent sexuality. The whimper came out like a near snort, and he shot her a glacial look.

“I-I can’t stay,” she murmured.

“You’ll stay long enough.” He leaned back, hitched up a trouser leg and crossed one leg over the other.

Cool. Powerful. Wealthy.

She reached for the drink he’d ordered, took a sip and the fizz tickled her nose, the taste of lime fresh upon her tongue. Slowly she set it back on the table, controlling the temptation to hurl it in his face. But only just.

Impeccable in his suit, he exuded a debonair flair of the lifestyle of the wealthy and the beautiful. She’d been the opposite. Casual and ordinary in jeans, halter-top and sandals, her sunburned nose magnifying her freckles. Except when the fashion pros worked their magic, transforming her into a human mannequin, and every man’s fantasy.

“I deserve an answer, Michalis.” She foolishly imagined he’d been captivated by the real her, not the plastic copy, but obviously she’d been wrong. Plastic deteriorated. And so had their marriage.

Jitters sprang inside her, and she cupped the water glass with her hands, the condensation cooling her palms. If he so easily trampled on their marriage vows, he’d just as easily demolish her life again…for no other reason than daring to challenge him…daring to leave him…daring to keep a secret.

“You do deserve an answer,” he said, his tone cool, hard. “As I do.”

“What do you mean?” She bolted upright, letting go of the glass and gripping the arms of the chair.

“Hit a nerve, have I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” she fired back, but didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Perhaps this’ll refresh your memory, yineka mou.”

“Don’t call me that…I’m not your wife.” Not if he could betray her like he had, the image branded her brain cells.

“Technically, you are—” He leveled her with a look that rammed her ribs into her backbone, squashing her heart. “—until the divorce papers are signed.”

Her heart flipped, but then relief rushed through her. He didn’t know. He was here because of the divorce.

She squinted at him. “You could’ve done that from Greece.”

“What, and not see your beautiful face again?” he mocked. “You can have your divorce, Julia.”

“Di-ivorce.” The word grated her tongue like gravel. “Y-yes.”

“But there is a penalty.”

Her head snapped up, and she caught the stern set of his jaw, skin stretched taut across his cheekbones, the set of his mouth. His mouth had taught her such passion, created such erotic delight in her. His lips on hers, on her breast and gliding down her body, suckling her navel, and then lower to— Heaven.

Hell.

He knew.

She blinked, eclipsing the sensual images and crushing the memory beneath the gauntlet he tossed. Her freedom would come at a cost.

“I can’t imagine what it is,” she breathed out, sarcasm lacing her words, as the tremors inside her picked up momentum.

He laughed, a dry sound that sent chills up her spine.

A premonition…an astronomical price to pay.

“You can have your divorce, Julia.” His eyes glittered an ice storm, and he shot straight into her heart. “In exchange for my daughter.”

“No!” She leaped up so fast, the glass tipped over, liquid sloshing over the side onto the table. She couldn’t care less.

“I’ll see you in court then.”

Blackness undulated before her eyes, her pulse vaulted into her throat and the wool of her sweater itched her damp-sweat skin. She couldn’t beat Michalis Leonadis in a court of law … he had the money, the power, the connections. A bleat of sound from her mouth, and she gnashed it away, pulling on her inner strength that had gotten her through the last year. “I’ll see you in hell first.”

“That could be arranged,” he muttered, his words flint hard.

“Wh-hat do you mean?”

“How long did you think you could keep this from me?” he baited, fury in his midnight blue eyes.

The eyes of a hunter cornering his prey… her.

“You dare keep my child from me, Julia?”

“I-I was going to tell—”

“Enough,” he bit out. “Now sit down before you make a scene.”

She sank in the chair and clasped her hands in her lap to stop their trembling, her mind whirling. “I won’t let you take her away from me, Michalis.”

He arched an aristocratic brow. “How do you propose to stop me?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Poli kala…very well.” A cold smile. “You will return with me to Greece for one month.”

She shrank back in her chair, rejecting his words, but her heartbeat skipped and her body flamed with awareness. Shock—that must be it.

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know my child,” he ground out. “And a three-month-old needs her mother.”

“Glad you recognize that fact.”

“And her father.”

As much as she resisted, Julia knew he was right, but couldn’t help bouncing back with, “Amy can get to know you when she’s older.”

“Amy,” he whispered, a flicker of tenderness in his eyes. “She’ll get to know me now.”

Her heart sank. “You can come and visit her here, Michalis.” She was clutching at straws.

“And have you disappear again?” He picked up his glass, tossed the last of his drink down his throat and slammed the glass on the table. “We have things to discuss…do.” His gaze traveled over her, pausing at her breasts which were rising and falling with the over exertion of her lungs, a notch lower to the apex of her thighs, then back up to her face, her eyes, her mouth.

“No, Michalis.”

“I will do what I please, when I please, how I please…with you.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I-I can’t Michalis,” she murmured, her voice breaking. “Not after you—”

“After I what, Julia?” he challenged, his words fueling white-hot anger.

“You made it clear you don’t want me.” She gripped her purse so hard, her fingers hurt. “And now I don’t want you.”

A shadow flittered across his eyes, and a muscle assaulted his jaw.

“You’re a necessity for the child,” he said, his tone reasonable. “While there you’ll also entertain me.”

“You can’t have me,” she bounded to her feet, finding her voice.

“I figured you might say that.” He signed the bill for the drinks to his room and stood, his eyes an ocean tempest.

Of course he’d be staying here, she thought, the extravagant rates would not dent his bank account. He was welcome to his money. All she wanted was her daughter. A ferocity rose up inside her. She’d never abandon her child like she’d been abandoned. The memory was like a scar on her psyche. Then to have Michalis do the same to her was—

“My solicitor will be in touch,” he bit out.

She blanched, a quake building inside her. There was no way she could fight him in court, she couldn’t afford it.

“You’ll have your divorce, Julia and I’ll have my daughter.”

“No, please,” she gasped.

“Then you will agree to my terms.”

She nodded, a void inside her. “A-a month, Michalis and not a day longer.” Not an hour, minute, second. A huff of a breath, then a grit of sound, and she whacked him with her gaze. “I’ll make every day I’m there hell for you.”

He chuckled, but it sounded lifeless, exactly how she felt. She took a step past him.

“I’ll send a car for you tomorrow at 8 a.m.”

She kept walking, shutting him from her thoughts.

“One more thing, Julia.”

She spun around, and her skin frosted. He stood there, tall, dark, remote. And sexy.

A lethal adversary.

To her heart…her mind…her life…her future.

“Don’t even think of skipping town tonight.” A cruel line carved his mouth. “I’ve security and—”

“You’re despicable.”

“Is that all?” He shrugged, but a nerve bashed his cheek. A moment of deliberation, and he delivered the blow that felled her. “You might have to explain to your daughter why your selfish actions nixed her billion-dollar inheritance.”

“Have you no honor?”

“You dare speak to me of honor?” he snarled. “You, who slunk out behind my back?”

Every fiber in her body quivered, the quake about to erupt inside her, and she blinked the blur from her eyes, easing the pressure. “You’d really use our child as a bargaining chip?” she murmured.

A lock of hair flopped over his brow, his Adam’s apple bopped, and his breath blasted from his nostrils like a snorting bull. “It’s your move, Julia.”

Her heart palpitated. By sleight of hand, he managed to immobilize her. She flexed her hands, breathed in and exhaled. If she was going to gain her freedom and secure her daughter’s financial future, she had to make a pact with this callous stranger before her. She’d be selling herself to him, and something seemed to die inside her.

“I won’t let you jeopardize her future, Michalis,” she fired, her words an ice blizzard.

“Then you’ll be there tomorrow, ready to warm my bed.”

Chapter 4

“Did you undress me, Michalis?” Julia, wearing a mid-thigh length robe and with tousled hair, stomped barefoot onto the terrace of the Leonadis villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea.

“Did you want me to?” Amusement tugged at his mouth, and he set the newspaper he’d been reading on the table, his x-ray vision raking her head to toe.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She clutched the robe closer about her body, and he laughed. And that had her ire rising…as well as her temperature and heart rate.

“Is it?” He leaned back in his chair, his words a low rumble in his chest sent her emotions into a scramble.

“Answer me.” She slid her fingers in her long locks and shoved them off her forehead. “Did you…I mean did we…you…me—”

“Yes and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Coffee?” He picked up the briki, the coffee pot, and motioned her to sit down for breakfast.

“Don’t change the subject.”

An impatient sigh filtered from his mouth, and he took his time refilling his cup, then hers. “You were exhausted after the flight and conked out after putting Amy to bed.” He raised the demitasse, took a long sip and reset it on the saucer. “Good coffee. You should have some.”

The man was maddening. Aggravating.

Hot. Sexy.

Dressed in designer slacks and an open necked shirt with a gold chain around his neck, he exuded a casual confidence.

Deceptive. The thought criss-crossed her mind, and a sound, almost a snort tickled her throat, and she gulped it down. Beneath his casual air coiled the strength and power of a puma which, once unleashed, tore up everything in its path. His unquenchable drive fueled him to succeed in everything he did.

In everything except their marriage.

The snort blasted from her then, and although she slapped her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, it tainted the air between them.

He quirked a brow, and she lowered her lashes a fraction, glancing at his rolled up sleeves.

His forearms were smattered with dark hair, and his hands invoked memories—him holding her, touching her in her most intimate places, loving her. Erotic sensations frisked her body, and she crunched the feelings she’d just as soon forget between her teeth.

“I removed your shoes and outer clothing—made you more comfortable.”

“How thoughtful,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm, her toes curling on the tile. Compared to him she looked and sounded like a shrew, and that compounded her resentment against him.

“I can be.”

“Where did you sleep?”

“Why, next to you.”

“No.”

“Mmm, yes.”

She wanted to smack the ‘gotcha’ look off his face, but instead, she leaned against the balustrade and gripped the twisted metal rods between her fingers. Jasmine leaves brushed her skin, and the white star-shaped flowers filled the air with exotic scent.

“Can’t have the help gossiping, now can we?”

“That never worried you before.”

His eyes glittered, his shoulders tensed. “Indeed.”

The early morning sun warmed her back, and she turned, her gaze skimming over the bougainvillea in the garden below, the scarlet blooms a contrast to the whitewashed villa. Lifting her lashes, she looked far out to sea at the sailboats dotting the horizon, and her thoughts went into reverse.

The flight from Paris to Athens had been anything but cordial. Taciturn, Michalis had sat next to her, his gaze glued on the sleeping child in her arms; but when he shifted his eyes to her, his tender look became eclipsed by the hardening of his pupils. A rip of dread pierced her, and she’d clutched Amy closer to her heart.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she’d said between her teeth.

“Like what?”

“Like I’ve committed some great sin.”

He scratched his cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Conscience nipping at you?”

“No,” she hissed. “It’s not my conscience that’s guilty, it’s—”

“You’d better get some rest.” He’d hauled himself up, reached for his laptop from the overhead compartment and settled on the seat across the aisle.

Several hours later, the Leonadis jet taxied to a stop on the runway of Athens International Airport, and Julia still refused to relinquish the child in her arms. Not during the drive to the villa, and not even after the chauffeur had set their suitcases in the foyer, and she and Michalis stood alone in the huge house.

“Let me help you with her.” Michalis had reached for the baby, but she twisted away and climbed the stairs. “The nursery’s on the right, adjacent to our bedroom.”

She faltered in her step, but kept going, shutting her mind to everything and everyone. Especially Michalis, and his ‘our bedroom’ announcement. A maid appeared in the hallway, opening the nursery door and Julia stepped inside, hugging her daughter even tighter.

The nursery was a child’s dream. A rainbow mural decorated one wall, teddy bear mobiles hung from the ceiling and stuffed toys were everywhere. The baby crib made of the finest polished wood and painted with cartoons, had the softest linen, and no doubt the most expensive.

A snicker trickled from her mouth. Michalis had given Amy everything in one day that money could buy…everything Julia hadn’t been able to give her in a year and might never be able to do.

Michalis wouldn’t spare any expense for what, or whom, he considered belonged to him. And he’d laid claim to her and her baby for the next month. Her chest grew tight. Would she have to forfeit her child to Michalis at the month’s end?

The query taunted her mind, sending a ripple of panic through her. She couldn’t compete with the Leonadis’ wealth. An explosion of air from her mouth, and the maid shot her a puzzled look. Julia gave her a brief smile, and swallowing emotion bruising her insides, laid her daughter on the fluffy mattress. Drawing the light blanket over her shoulders, she bent over and pressed her lips to the child’s brow.

“I’ll have your bags unpacked Kyria—”

“Thank you.” Julia bypassed her into the adjoining bedroom. “But that can wait.” As soon as the door closed behind her, she’d crashed out on the king-sized bed, squeezing the pillow in her arms. A tear had oozed between her lashes, then another…

“I’ve hired a nanny,” Michalis announced, his words echoing on the sunlit veranda and rocking Julia from her thoughts.

“What?”

“By tonight, you’ll be fully rested,” he said, his meaning unmistakable. “And to ensure you stay that way, I’ve hired a nanny for our daughter.”

“No way.”

“Yes.” Michalis lifted the demitasse to his mouth and took another sip of the Greek brew, fixing her with a piercing look over the rim. “It’ll ensure we won’t be disturbed—”

“Michalis, I don’t want my daughter looked after by a nanny. I’m perfectly capable—” She tossed him a cool glance over her shoulder, keeping her voice light but beneath her fingers, the steel design of the railing embedded in her palms. “There’s no need.”

“There is.” He slammed the cup down and twisted in his chair, the sunlight glinting on his hair. Even as her mind rejected, another emotion prodded her to reach out, brush back the stray lock from his forehead … craving to touch him.

A seagull squawked, snapping her from her foolishness and reminding her why she was here and what she stood to lose.

“Why?”

He blotted the corner of his mouth with a napkin, his laser-sharp focus sending a clear signal.

“What’s the rush?” she asked, her words a croak. Behind her, the surf crashed upon the sand, beckoning her back to the spectacular view of sea and sky curving around for miles.

“I want to get my month’s worth of entertainment.” He grinned… his mouth became a devilish slash, and she shifted away, the morning breeze cooling her hot cheeks. “And I want you to be in top form.”

“That is so crass.”

“In whose mind?”

She whipped around, about to hurl a blue streak at him, but at the last second, checked the impulse. Ignoring her twittering nerves, she took a deep breath and delivered him a more provocative response. “You hired me for the month…so…twenty-nine days left now.”

“Keeping tabs already?”

Dismissing his mocking tone, she flicked her head back, flexed her fingers away from the steel bars and imagined she was working the catwalk as she sashayed toward him. “Why wait for tonight?”

“Theos mou!” He vaulted from the chair, a muscle boxing his jaw, a storm brewing in his eyes and the napkin squashed in his fist.

But Julia wouldn’t leave well enough alone. For some perverse reason, she wanted to goad him to his limit, so she reached out, stroking his cheek with the tip of her finger. “I know how to entertain you.”

“Had more practice, have you?”

A stunned silence, and then the crack of her hand across his cheek reverberated around them. She didn’t know who was more shocked out of the two of them.

The stillness between them turned to a deadly calm, broken only by the ocean’s mysterious concerto behind them.

“Get something to eat,” he said, his words smooth steel, icy. Then, the corner of his mouth lifted…a leer if she ever saw one. “Once we get started, babe…” He brushed his cheek with the back of his hand, the imprint of her fingers stark upon his skin.

“I’m—” she began, but his next words jabbed and the apology dissolved on her tongue.

“We may not want to come up for air, let alone food.”

All she could do was gape at him…gape at this remote stranger and wonder where she’d gone wrong. Had she ever known the man she married? She doubted it.

“We set sail at noon.” He hurled the napkin on the table. “Be prompt.”

“What’s happened to you getting to know Amy?” She couldn’t resist a jab of her own nor a lift of her brow.

“I intend to, but first—” He took a step closer and cupped her chin in his palm, his coffee-laced breath tickling her cheek, her mouth, and his thumb stroking her bottom lip. “I want to get reacquainted with you.”

Julia swatted his hand away, and he laughed, the sound frosting her skin.

“I won’t be separated from my baby.”

“Amy will be in good hands.” His suggestive look implied that Julia would also be in good hands—his. “We’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“I won’t leave her with a stranger.”

“Nor would I,” he agreed, surprising her.

“I believe you’ve met the nanny once.” His eyes glinted like ocean agates, drilling into her.

Julia shook her head, crinkling her brow. “I don’t recall—”

“My meeting in Athens should only take a couple of hours.” He nixed her words, glanced at the Omega watch on his wrist and strode toward the exit. “Don’t be late.”

“Very well,” she sighed. “Amy and I will be ready.”

He paused in stride. “Maria will take care of Amy.”

A chill darted through her even though sunlight beat down upon her. “Maria?”

“The nanny.”

She brushed her hands over her arms, banishing the unsettling premonition.

“You’ll…like her.” He descended the stairs, his words mingling with the echo of his footsteps, and she couldn’t be sure she’d heard right.

“What can I get for you, Kyria—”

Julia waved the maid away and plunked onto the chair, her heart thudding in her chest. Bypassing the heartier fare of cereal, milk, eggs and bacon, she snatched up a piece of toast.

The front door slammed shut, and she jumped, then the rev of the car motor ripped through the air making her grind her teeth in annoyance until the sound became muted in the distance.

“Grr!” She bit into the dry bread, imagining it was a piece of Michalis’ anatomy she’d sunk her teeth into. Thoughtfully she chewed, choked down the morsel, and knew she’d have to find a way to trump her soon to be ex-husband’s plans.

Chapter 5

“Hey lighten up, you might enjoy spending the weekend with me.” Michalis peered at her over his sunglasses and swerved the red coupé into his reserved parking space at Piraeus Harbor.

“I won’t.”

He tapped the steering wheel with his open palm and about to say something more, changed his mind and switched off the ignition. Jumping out, he swung around to her side, but she preempted him by opening the door and hopping out.

“Okay.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, twisted around and swatted the fender with his hand. The tug-o-war between Julia and him had been percolating since this morning, and detonate it would. Until then, he intended to enjoy the thrill of battling and conquering the beauty queen standing before him with such icy disdain. “But I will enjoy the weekend.”

Her sharp intake of breath nicked the silence between them. He studied her stiff back, her shapely derrière encapsulated in her short shorts, her tanned legs, trim ankles and feet strapped in flimsy sandals.

A sigh pulled its way from deep in his throat, and sounding more like a growl, he ground it down. Like the mythical Menelaus had launched a thousand ships to reclaim Helen of Troy, he’d been prepared to do the same to find Julia. His Adam’s apple bounced, and the low rumble began building in his chest. Since then, the playing field had changed. He tightened his abs and the growl blasted from him in a cruel hush. Julia had not only deceived him by hiding his daughter, but had also spurned him. Her brittle words had raked across the iron shield he’d erected around his heart, but he’d felt the shockwaves of her contempt nonetheless.

“I’ll…uh…get our bags.” He back-stepped a few paces, tossed the car keys in the air and caught them smack in his palm.

“Whatever.” She flicked a wisp of hair flirting on her mouth and stared out to sea.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, asphyxiating the words between his fingers. “This is not going well.”

Julia remained a mystery, but the unveiling might prove an adventure, and thawing the ice-model an unexpected delight. His mouth twitched. Exactly what he’d thought when he first caught sight of her strolling the oceanfront boardwalk market nearly a year and a half ago after her photo shoot at the Acropolis. He stroked his chin with the car key. He’d gone further than a mere conquest then, and bound her to him in matrimony. She’d pulled a major stunt by ditching him—especially before he’d had a chance to explain—and definitely, it was time for a payoff.

“What’d you say?” She spun around, miffed.

“You got another pair of shoes?” He unlocked the hood, hauled out their duffle bags, and then banged it shut.

“Do I need them?”

“You might.” Pocketing the car keys, he adjusted his sunglasses, and set his mouth in a straight line. He’d caught her, but look what it had gotten him…cost him. She’d snared him with her beauty, her virtue, her wiles, and then disappeared, taking with her a bigger prize than the Leonadis fortune.

His child.

His gut coiled, and his chest tightened. Never again would he fall for her seductive spell, her coquettish ways, and her velvet tongue. A grunt staggered upward from his belly and near exploded from his mouth.

She snapped her head up from tying the laces at her cleavage, and lifted a shapely brow.

“Need help with the tie?” He challenged her query with his raised eyebrow, and then slammed it level over his eye.

“No thank you.” She stepped back, her mouth half open like she was about to spit venom his way, then sealed her lips.

“Anything breakable in here?” He indicated her bag, his tone rougher than he intended.

“No.”

Against the backdrop of sea and sky, she stood tall and leggy in her white shorts, her skimpy top playing peek-a-boo with her midriff, the laced neckline dipping to the swell of her breasts. Red-hot memories taunted him, and he crushed them beneath his savage thoughts. Having to bargain for his child soured his tongue, scoured his belly, and blew his mind. His body though never missed a beat, primed and ready for her.

He tossed one bag over his shoulder and gripped the other in his fist, squashing the erotic kick in his gut.

Sunglasses shielded her eyes and a visor-cap shadowed her features, keeping her ponytail in place. The sea breeze tossed loose tendrils across her face, and he wanted to wrap the fickle curls around his index finger, cup her cheek and feel the silky smoothness of her skin.

His lungs inflated with air, and he clamped his teeth tight, exhaling through his nose.

Julia Armstrong Leonadis. Her name linked with his, booted up his temperature and sexual drive for this woman he’d made his wife for a brief time. This fashion model that was a combination of contrasts…mystery and innocence…fire and ice.

A scowl bit into his features.

Tonight he’d turn up the heat and melt the icecap sheathing her, and ensure an inferno blazed between them. A cruel twist marred his mouth. He’d take his due, secure what belonged to him and cast this hot deceptive babe adrift by the month’s end.

“This way.” He inclined his head toward the luxury yacht with the Leonadis Cruise Line logo and Lady One emblazoned across the bow. “The weekend will zip by soon enough.”

“Not quickly enough for me.” She marched past him across the dock, paused at the ramp and tapped her foot, her scarlet polished nails peeking from her roped sandals.

Chuckling, he stepped up behind her, so near his hips brushed her buttocks, and bending his head, he skimmed his mouth across her ear. “You might change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” she snapped, jumping aside. She pushed her hands in the back pockets of her shorts, and stretched the cotton material of her cropped top across her breasts, unknowingly belting him with an erotic jolt smack center.

“Too bad.” He walked the gangplank, tossed the bags on deck and hopped aboard the cruiser. “Come.” She stepped onto the gangway, and when she drew closer, he extended a hand to help her onboard. “Watch your step.”

“I’m fine.” She twisted away, but the momentum bumped her off balance and clutching air, she headed for a dive in the ocean. “Oh noooo!”

An expletive exploded from Michalis’ mouth, and he vaulted for her; the impact knocked him off axis, and he leaned backward boatside, landing on coils of rope and safety gear, his body cushioning her against the brunt of impact.

“Oomph!” he said, his aviators shooting off his nose.

“Oomph!” she said, her sunglasses flying into the air.

“I got you.” He tightened his arms around her, and she jostled against him, her cheek pressed to his, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

Instantly she pulled back, her eyes colliding with his, her mouth parted, her breath grazing his lips. Her perfume, moist sunshine and roses stimulated, and he yanked her back into his embrace; her breasts crushing against his chest, her pelvis chaffing his hips, spiking his male counterparts on full alert.

A kick of emotion…er lust speared his gut, and he saw it reflected in her gaze.

“Julia …”

“Michalis…”

An ocean liner far out at sea blew its horn, the hollow sound penetrating through the haze of passion.

Julia fluttered her eyelashes, and seeming to come to her senses, struggled in his arms. “Let go.”

A fueled moment, his libido warring with common sense, and then abruptly, he opened his arms. “Okay.”

Just for a split second, confusion glazed her face, and tottering on his chest, she rolled over onto the deck. He leaped up, reached down and grabbing her elbow, hauled her to her feet. “Anything else?”

“No…yes…plenty.” She shoved him back, the strap of her top sliding off her shoulder and revealing a vision of cleavage.

“Go for it,” he muttered, the subtle innuendo flaring between them. Tensing his abs, his gaze bumped from her breasts to her posterior then glided down the length of her tanned legs, to her roped feet. A toe-ring gleamed on one of her toes, and he shook his head, amazed.

“I intend to.” She adjusted her strap and swept past him, glancing around for her shades.

“Missed your chance,” he said, a gust of wind whipping his hair. “It’ll have to wait ’til we get to the hotel.” What else would he find when he undressed her? A pierced belly button? A tattoo? Sweet sensation whacked his gut at the thought of suckling that part of her anatomy before nibbling his way lower to—

“Where might that be?”

He swept up her sunglasses, sauntered closer and hooked them on the neckline of her top, his fingers brushing the swell of her breast. She sucked in a whoosh of air. Pleased, he grinned and propped his shades on his nose.

“The Mermaid’s—”

She paled, batting her lashes.

Was that a sheen of moisture or a glint of sunlight in her eye? He shrugged and chose the latter, easing the nick to his conscience.

“You wouldn’t…”

“I did.”

She hooked a stray curl behind her ear and set her sunglasses on her nose. “You have a bizarre sense of humor.” Was her voice just a little strained?

“If you say so,” he ground out, his words barely audible. Swiping his finger around the collar of his tennis shirt, he noted the perspiration glazing her upper lip. “Would you…if you’d like a drink, there’s some in the fridge down below.”

“I know where they are.” Julia skirted a wide girth around him, back-stepping all the way. “I remember.”

“Then you must also remember—”

“I’d rather not,” she bit back, crunching down the lure into the past. Every image, touch, kiss … every nuance of their honeymoon night had been seared into her heart.

The prelude had begun on the yacht beneath the stars, spotlighted by the moon and serenaded by the ocean. It had been heaven. Later, at the enchanted Mermaid’s Grotto, a seduction of the senses combusted to the tempo of their heartbeats, and even the sea-foam washing over them hadn’t dampened a degree of their fervor.

She’d clung to him; her husband, her lover, her guy, until she thought she’d die from the exquisite torture in his arms.

“No.” It had been a million years ago… She’d been a carefree, laughing girl with the world at her feet and Prince Charming at her side. Her lips twisted in contempt. He’d morphed into the big bad ogre.

“Not thirsty?” Michalis heaved equipment aside and checked the safety gear. “You mind bringing me up a beer?”

She snapped her teeth together, her response garbled, but he continued working, his back to her. His shoulder blades contracted, a sweat stain already dampening the t-shirt now drawn taut across his back, his biceps bulging with each heave-ho of the rigging.

A tremor rocked her senses, and she slammed her fist to her mouth, smothering the bleat of sound. Not long ago, she’d thought she couldn’t breathe…function without him; never imagined leaving…leaving him.

Until that traitorous day… Bitterness stung her tongue, and she curled her hands, her fingernails biting into her palms.

But she had left with her pride in tatters, and harboring a secret.

Somehow, she had continued to breathe—one breath at a time…for her baby.

Images of all she’d, no, they’d had and lost branded her brain cells and tears blurred her vision. A repeat performance she couldn’t allow; wouldn’t stand. She batted her eyelashes behind her sunglasses, staying a sob with a swift suction of oxygen and almost keeled over. She lunged for the life preserver tacked to the wall, keeping herself upright, but still shaken.

The sob managed to work its way into her throat but she muffled the sound with the back of her hand. His cold and calculating agenda rattled her insides. What interest could he have in Amy, except as the carrier of the Leonadis bloodline? Julia narrowed her eyes, determined to navigate the month without any emotional bruises and no losses. Then, “Yasoo, Michalis,” the words a hush of sound between her fingers.

“Is that a yes to the beer?” He tossed a coil of rope in the lazerette, the stern storage area and barely glanced her way.

“More orders, Cap’n?” She spun around, and the tensing of his shoulders cued he hadn’t missed her sarcastic tone. Going on the offensive, she slapped him with a flippant remark. “Where’s the crew?”

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