It was a marriage in name only…

But now my wife wants more!

My terms were clear: a luxurious Greek island sanctuary in exchange for Daisy becoming Mrs. Matteo Dias. Until my convenient wife’s not-so-convenient arrival at a glittering charity ball—with a startling proposal of her own!

Her heart is set on creating a family, but love is something I can’t give. Yet Daisy’s spirit captivates me completely, and claiming our wedding night is a delicious pleasure… But am I able to become the husband Daisy truly wants?

After spending three years as a die-hard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District, with her husband, their five children and a golden retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories, she loves reading, baking and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try. Learn more about Kate at kate-hewitt.com.

Also by Kate Hewitt

A Di Sione for the Greek’s Pleasure

Inherited by Ferranti

Moretti’s Marriage Command

Demetriou Demands His Child

Engaged for Her Enemy’s Heir

The Innocent’s One-Night Surrender

Desert Prince’s Stolen Bride

Princess’s Nine-Month Secret

The Secret Kept from the Italian

Greek’s Baby of Redemption

Seduced by a Sheikh miniseries

The Secret Heir of Alazar

The Forced Bride of Alazar

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Claiming My Bride of Convenience

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08827-5

CLAIMING MY BRIDE OF CONVENIENCE

© 2019 Kate Hewitt

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

TINKLING LAUGHTER FLOATED from the open doors of the ballroom, along with the expensive clink of the finest crystal. The party was in full, elegant swing, and it made my stomach cramp and my heart race. Could I really do this?

Yes, I could. I had to, because the alternative was to scuttle back home to staid safety and more years—potentially many more years—of living in stasis, waiting and wondering.

Admittedly in this moment I was sorely tempted to flee from this luxurious hotel in the most sophisticated square of Athens, back to the safety of Amanos. But, no. I’d come too far, was hoping for too much, to run away like a frightened child. I was a woman, after all—a married woman. And after three years of marriage I was finally confronting my husband—but first I had to find him.

I straightened my shoulders, smoothing my hands down the sides of the gown I’d purchased that morning in one of Athens’s upscale boutiques. The sales assistants had exchanged laughing looks as I’d stammered through my request—I had plenty of money but little knowledge when it came to fashion or style, and they’d known, and had made sure I had known they’d known, as well.

Now I caught sight of my reflection in a gilt mirror in the hotel lobby and wondered if the tight ruby-red strapless gown was outrageous or elegant. Did it even suit me, with my brown hair, brown eyes? Miss Unremarkable, my husband once called me… Not that I blamed him for it. He’d wanted an unremarkable wife, someone who would make no splash, no demands, present no inconvenience, and that’s exactly what he got…for three years. But now I wanted something else, something different, and I’d come here to get it.

I took a shaky breath, willing my jelly-like legs to move forward. I could do this; I’d got this far, hadn’t I? I’d taken a ferry from the remote island paradise where I’d spent my entire married life, and then a taxi from Piraeus to Athens. I’d booked myself into this very hotel, fumbling with the credit card while the receptionist looked on witheringly, and I’d managed to buy myself a dress and shoes—sky-high stilettos that made me wobble when I walked, but still.

I’d managed it all—even if it had taken what felt like all my strength, all my courage. Life on Amanos was so much simpler, and it had been a long time since I’d been in the city, with all its traffic and rudeness and noise. A long time since I’d faced my husband—a man I barely knew.

Matteo Dias—one of the richest, most ruthless men in Europe, as well as one of its most notorious playboys. And I was his wife.

It seemed incredible even now, despite the papers I’d signed, the vows I’d spoken. I’d woken up every morning for the last three years on an island paradise, far from the hopeless slog of my former life in New York City, and practically had to pinch myself. Is this real?

Until it hadn’t felt like enough.

A flicker of apprehension rippled through me at the thought. Was I being unreasonable, greedy? Stupid? I had a lovely home, more money than I knew what to do with, and a fulfilling life—all of it more than I’d ever had growing up in Kentucky or during my brief, unfortunate stint in New York City. Could I really ask for more? Demand it, even?

Resolve hardened inside me and straightened my spine. Yes, I could. Because the alternative was to give up on the only real dream I’d ever had.

Now, as I scanned the crowded ballroom from its double doors, I wondered if I would even recognise my husband in the flesh. Of course I’d seen his photo in plenty of tabloids, almost always accompanied by some curvy blonde or other, usually simpering on his arm and poured into a dress.

I’d read all the speculation concerning his whispered-about marriage, with as many gossip columnists insisting no woman could have tamed him as those confirming the rumours were true, and Greece’s most eligible bachelor was in fact secretly wed.

Of course they were both right. Matteo was married, but I hadn’t tamed him. I haven’t even spoken to him. All I knew about my husband of three years was what I’d read in the tabloids—that he was ruthless in ambition, amazing in bed, and highly desired by almost all women.

I’d studied his dark, closely cropped hair, those cold steel-grey eyes, his impressive and dominating physique. I’d remembered how, for the brief moments we’d been together, it had felt as if he’d stolen the air from the room, how he’d just had to look at me and I’d forget to think.

I told myself that couldn’t happen now, because I very much needed to have all my wits about me. But first I needed to find him.

‘Miss, are you coming in?’ A waiter, with a white cloth draped over one black-clad arm and holding a tray of glasses of champagne, raised his eyebrows at me enquiringly.

I swallowed hard. ‘Yes,’ I said, pitching my voice to sound as firm and bright as I could. I was afraid I sounded a bit manic. ‘Yes, I am.’

With my shoulders thrown back and my chin tilted high, I stepped into the ballroom full of the cream of Europe’s society. Barely anyone spared me a glance, and I was hardly surprised. I was a nobody, plucked from a dive of a diner in New York—a waitress with no pedigree, no breeding, no style or standing. Miss Unremarkable indeed.

Even in a gown that had cost an eye-watering amount—Matteo has always been generous with his money, if nothing else—and shoes that had cost more than a month’s rent on my apartment once upon a time, I knew I looked the same. Dull-as-dishwater Daisy Campbell, born in the sticks of Kentucky, who hitched a ride to New York as a starry-eyed dreamer and soon wised up.

I moved through the crowds, keeping my chin up and my shoulders back with effort. Three years on a remote island hadn’t accustomed me to this kind of scrutiny. Back on Amanos I had learned how to be confident. I was sure of my place there, because I’d made it myself. But here…everything felt different. I felt different—more like the nervous country-mouse-in-the-city I’d once been. I had to fight against the urge to ask someone if they needed a refill.

I needed to find Matteo as soon as I could, before I melted into a puddle of nerves or broke an ankle in these wretched shoes.

I wasn’t under any illusion that he’d be thrilled to see me, but I was hoping he wouldn’t be too put out. We’d had an agreement, and I was breaking it. But three years is a long time, and surely he couldn’t have expected me to languish on Amanos for ever? Not that I was languishing, precisely, but I needed to move on with my life.

I’d given Matteo what he wanted. Now it was his turn to give me what I wanted.

‘Good luck with that,’ I muttered to myself, and someone turned to give me a hard stare.

I’d always had the slightly odd habit of talking to myself, and three years on a remote island hadn’t helped matters. I gave the stranger a sunny smile and forced myself to move on.

Where was my husband?

Then I saw him and wondered how I hadn’t before. He was in the centre of the room, the star of the show, standing half a head taller than any other man. My steps slowed and my heart started to beat hard. He was even more magnificent in the flesh than I remembered.

I stood there for a moment just watching him, because he was so beautiful. I didn’t want him to be, because I knew that his cold, hard beauty would distract and unsettle me, and in fact it already was. Matteo Dias was breathtaking—a dark and powerful knight in his tuxedo, the expensive material stretching over his broad shoulders and showcasing his long legs and impressive chest. Even from across the room, I could see how his grey eyes glinted like silver, and his mobile mouth captured my fascination as he spoke.

We’d never kissed, barely even touched, and yet in that moment I was spellbound, caught by his sheer animal magnetism and intense charisma, as if we shared a physical history. As if I could actually remember the way he felt and even tasted, when I knew I couldn’t.

I hadn’t let myself even imagine either of those things, because our marriage had never been like that. Matteo had been clear on that point right from the beginning, his lip curling in derision at the thought of so much as touching me—and I’d told myself I didn’t mind, because I didn’t want to be touched.

I took a deep breath and started forward. ‘Matteo.’

My voice came out more loudly than I’d meant it to, and several people turned. I heard whispers, titters, as their gazes raked over me. So the dress didn’t work, then. I’d suspected as much, but I didn’t care. Colour surged into my face but I kept my chin high, as I had all my life, no matter what it had thrown at me—and it had thrown a lot.

‘Matteo.’

He turned, his eyes narrowing to silver slits as his lush mouth compressed into a narrow, unforgiving line. Clearly he wasn’t pleased to see me. I wasn’t surprised, but stupidly I still managed to feel hurt, although I tried to hide it.

The woman by his side tilted her head towards him, her green cat’s eyes glinting with malicious laughter as she whispered in a voice loud enough to carry, ‘Oh, dear, Matteo, it looks like someone has a little crush on you.’

A crush? Hardly.

‘We need to talk,’ I told him, keeping my gaze focused on his now scowling face, refusing to be intimidated by the women who circled him as if they were a flock of elegant crows and he was their carrion. Except, of course, Matteo was all predator and no prey.

‘Talk…?’

He pretended to look puzzled, and I realised he was going to try to act as if he didn’t know me. The thought filled me with a sudden empowering fury. No way, sucker. Not after three whole years of doing what he’d said and staying out of his way.

‘Yes, talk, Matteo.’ I smiled sweetly even though inside I was trembling like a bowl full of jelly. ‘You do remember who I am, don’t you?’ I forced my smile wider as I started to say the dreaded word. ‘Your wi—’

‘Not here.’

His hand clamped down on my arm and he steered me out of the ballroom as if I were an unruly member of staff. I tripped in my heels and Matteo steadied me, although I could tell the gesture was one of expediency rather than concern. My husband wasn’t merely displeased to see me; he was furious.

That was made even more clear when he ushered me into a private room off the ballroom, closing the door behind him with a loud click.

‘Daisy,’ he said, his teeth gritted and his eyes flashing, ‘what the hell are you doing here?’

I almost hadn’t recognised her. Admittedly she was reassuringly easy to forget—which was why I’d married her in the first place. The only reason I remembered her name was because of the deposits I’d made into her bank account.

‘Nice to see you, too,’ she muttered, with a flash of spirit I hadn’t expected.

Hadn’t I married a mouse? A quiet, tame, unremarkable and invisible mouse, who was supposed to be grateful for what I’d done for her and stay entirely out of my way?

‘We had an agreement,’ I told her flatly.

‘To keep me prisoner on an island while you gallivant about all of Europe?’

‘What?’ I stared at her incredulously. ‘Is that seriously your version of events?’

‘We’re married, Matteo.’

My jaw dropped and I snapped it shut. I could not believe she was playing that card, when she of all people knew what our marriage really was. ‘You signed the agreement, Daisy. You cashed the cheques. You told me it suited you.’

Her jaw was thrust out, her expression mutinous. I’d never seen her look so fiery—but then, of course, I’d barely seen her at all, and as they say, out of sight, out of mind. Entirely.

‘I know I did, but it’s been three years and I want something different now.’

‘Oh, really?’

I folded my arms and stared her down. She had to be easy to intimidate. She certainly had been before—although in truth I hadn’t even had to try. I’d offered her a deal—a generous, considerate, honest business deal—and she’d accepted. Clearly she needed reminding of those facts now.

‘So you want something different and you decide to stalk me down to a public party—’

‘I did not stalk,’ she snapped, cutting across me, which no one ever did. ‘I read about the party online and decided to find you here.’

‘I call that stalking.’

‘Technically, I don’t think you can stalk your husband.’

‘Trust me, you can—especially in a marriage like ours.’

‘Which is exactly what I want to discuss.’

She gave me an acidly sweet smile as she walked across the room—or rather minced, because that dress was so ridiculous—to sit in a chair, looking as demure as I could ever hope for, even though her eyes still sparked.

‘What is that hideous dress you’re wearing?’ I asked, knowing I was being blunt to the point of rudeness and not caring in the slightest. ‘You look like a tube of lipstick—and a nasty shade at that.’

Her cheeks flushed but her gaze didn’t waver. ‘I thought those snarky assistants at the boutique might be setting me up.’

‘Couldn’t you tell it didn’t suit you?’ Although, awful as it was, it did suit her. My gaze was reluctantly and irresistibly drawn to the slender curves the outrageously tight dress clung to. ‘What is that material? Pleather?’

‘I don’t know.’ She glanced down at it without much interest. ‘They insisted it was the latest style, and who am I to know any different?’

‘They were lying to you.’

For some reason it annoyed me that a couple of nasty shop assistants would make a mockery of my wife. Our marriage most certainly wasn’t like that, but she was still a Dias. Even if no one knew it. Even if that was the way I’d wanted it.

‘I thought they might have been,’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’m hardly a fashion icon, and I’m sure I seemed like a complete country bumpkin to them.’

Which begged the question—‘What are you doing here, Daisy?’

Her eyes flashed. ‘Don’t you mean what the hell am I doing here?’

‘I was surprised.’

I wasn’t normally in the habit of justifying myself, and I didn’t know what it was about her that caught me on the raw, made me defensive. That had to stop.

‘Annoyed, you mean? Or perhaps furious?’ One eyebrow arched as her golden-brown eyes glittered like bits of topaz. She was unremarkable, I told myself as I scanned her in cold assessment. Brown hair and eyes, a slight, unprepossessing figure. Completely forgettable.

So why did I keep staring at her?

‘We had an arrangement,’ I stated, yet again. She seemed to need the reminder.

‘Which suited you—’

‘And you—to the tune of nearly two million euros.’ I was not going to feel guilty. ‘You knew the score all along. You said you were happy with it.’

Her lower lip—a surprisingly lush and rosy-red lip—jutted out, and she folded her arms across her slight bosom, which for some reason I was having the most exasperating trouble looking away from, considering how unimpressive it was. B cup at best, and yet…

‘Well, now I want to change it,’ she said.

I let out a short, sharp laugh. ‘I don’t negotiate.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ she challenged. ‘It’s hardly a binding contract.’

I stared at her, shocked. Where was all this brazen confidence coming from? And what could she possibly want from me?

‘Not binding, no,’ I agreed silkily, ‘but you know the terms. If you wish the marriage to be annulled without my agreement, then you’ll have to hand back every single euro you’ve received from me over the last three years.’

Which amounted to nearly two million—one million to start, and then two hundred and fifty thousand for every year she stayed married to me, until my grandfather died. Then we wouldn’t have to have anything more to do with each other—something I had thought suited us both.

But of course Daisy knew the rules as well as I did. I’d outlined them all very clearly when I’d proposed to her after she’d been fired from a rundown dive of a diner in a less than salubrious neighbourhood in Manhattan and she’d accepted. With alacrity.

So what had changed?

I folded my arms and eyed her in consideration. She was sitting as prim as you please in a vamp’s red dress, looking entirely incongruous and making me feel as if I didn’t know her at all—which, of course, I didn’t. I didn’t need or want to know her. But I needed to know what she wanted.

‘What is this really about, Daisy?’

For a second that confidence faltered. Her lips trembled and her gaze slid away. ‘What do you think it’s about?’

‘Why are you here? What is it you want? Because I really don’t think you want to repay the two million euros I’ve already given you.’

‘One million, seven hundred and fifty thousand,’ she flashed back, recovering her spirit, assembling it like armour. ‘And, according to our agreement, we were to be married for a maximum of two years. It’s now been three.’

‘And you’ve been paid accordingly.’

And she’d spent it all, judging by the amount in the bank account I’d set up for her. Last time I checked, its balance was hovering just above zero. Heaven only knew what she spent the money on.

‘So what do you want?’ I shook my head slowly, my lip starting to curl. ‘More money?’

Her eyes widened, her lush lips parting. In that red dress she looked as ripe as an apple, ready to be plucked, and it disconcerted me. The last time I’d seen her she’d been in a drab waitress uniform, her hair scraped back into a ponytail, her face shiny with grease from the fried food she served. Hardly someone I’d ever think of plucking.

‘Would you give me more money?’ she asked, seeming more curious than greedy.

‘No.’

I took a step back, away from temptation. As surprisingly luscious as Daisy seemed right now, she was most definitely off limits. The last thing I wanted to do was consummate—and thus complicate—my marriage. I had plenty of women to choose from. I didn’t need this one.

‘That’s good, because I have enough money as it is.’

‘You seem to spend it as fast as I can transfer it to your bank account,’ I remarked sardonically. ‘Although I can’t imagine what you spend it on, living on an island with a population of about three hundred.’

‘That’s none of your business, is it?’ Daisy countered.

She had a rather guilty look about her now, with a flushed face and sliding gaze. What did she spend the money on? Perhaps she’d redecorated my villa ten times over, or bought a boat, or a helicopter, or a closet full of designer clothes… Although, judging by that dress, it was probably not the last possibility.

‘So what is it that you want, then?’

Impatience edged my voice and I made a point of glancing at my watch. Daisy Campbell—no, Dias—had taken up fifteen minutes of my valuable time, and that was fifteen minutes too many.

She cocked her head, her thick, darkly golden lashes lowered as she surveyed me, her lips slightly pursed. Was she trying to be coy? It was a surprising move, and one that unfortunately had the power to affect me.

Desire surged through my body in a white-hot rush, and although I was tempted to take another step back, to safety, I stood my ground. I would not be cowed by my unremarkable wife. Nor would I be affected.

‘Well?’

‘I’ll tell you what I want.’

She stood up, as striking as a flame in that ridiculous red dress, her light brown hair tumbling about her shoulders, her face flushed, her chin angled at a determined tilt—the embodiment of both defiance and desire.

‘I want an annulment. I want out of this sham of a marriage. And I’ll give you all your money back to prove it.’

CHAPTER TWO

I WATCHED AS shock blazed across Matteo’s features and stiffened his powerful body. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting that. No doubt he thought I’d spent all the money he’d given me. If only he knew the truth…

‘Why on earth would you want an annulment?’ he blustered. ‘What’s the point?’

‘That’s none of your business,’ I shot back.

The last thing I wanted was to expose my vulnerability to this man. I wanted out of this marriage because I wanted a chance at a real life, a real love, and I knew I wouldn’t get it with Matteo Dias. That was a fact that sent a stupid pang through me, because even now, when he was being so irritatingly arrogant, part of me wished he’d notice me the way a man was meant to notice a woman.

Even in this tight red dress, I could see he was regarding me like something unfortunate he’d stepped in.

‘It certainly is my business,’ Matteo retorted. ‘We’re married, Daisy.’

‘It’s not a real marriage.’

‘It is on paper.’

‘I’m willing to pay back the money, Matteo. What objection can you possibly have?’

Except I’d known instinctively that he would object—that he was not the kind of man to let a woman dictate his terms. To let me be the first to walk away. And now, feeling the full force of Matteo Dias’s ire was enough to have me trembling where I stood. Still, I was determined to stand my ground.

‘I assure you I’ve thought this through very carefully. I would not be giving back one million, seven hundred fifty thousand euros lightly.’

‘How on earth do you still have all that money?’

‘What would I have spent it on?’ I countered, which was not quite the truth.

‘Seriously, Daisy…’

‘I invested it,’ I told him. ‘And the profits will allow me to repay you and keep some for myself.’

He shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t believe I was clever enough to have done such a thing, or courageous enough to ask him for an annulment. But I was both, and I was proud of it.

His jaw hardened and he folded his arms. ‘I don’t wish to have an annulment.’

‘That’s too bad for you, then, isn’t it?’

His eyes flashed dangerously. I knew I shouldn’t have provoked him like that, but I wasn’t having this high-handed manner now.

‘Our agreement was clear, Matteo. I could have the marriage annulled at any time, as long as I gave the money back. You just never thought I would.’

His lips tightened. ‘It is exceedingly inconvenient for me to have our marriage annulled.’

‘Oh, dear,’ I mocked. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t, Daisy.’

‘How about you don’t—don’t stand in my way? I’m the one abiding by our agreement, Matteo, not you.’

Matteo shook his head slowly from side to side, as if trying to clear it. Then he shook it more forcefully.

‘This is ridiculous. What on earth are you going to do once our marriage is annulled? Where will you go?’

‘Actually, I intend to stay on Amanos.’

‘What?’ He stared at me in scathing disbelief. ‘Not in my house.’

‘No, of course not. I’ll rent a place in the village.’ I’d already seen one—a small, whitewashed one-bedroom cottage that was reasonable.

‘Why, if you intend to stay on Amanos, can’t you stay married to me?’

I didn’t reply, and Matteo’s eyes narrowed.

‘Have you met someone else? Are you having an affair?’

‘That’s rich, coming from you.’

Matteo’s affairs were plastered all over the tabloids, which was the whole reason I was meant to be invisible.

‘Are you, Daisy?’

He looked furious, which was entirely unfair.

‘As it happens, no, I am not.’

Something in my tone must have given me away because understanding flashed in his eyes like lightning.

‘But you wish to?’

‘No, actually. I have no desire to have seedy, sordid affairs the way you do,’ I retorted.

‘What, then?’

I shook my head, regretting having said anything about it. ‘Let’s focus on the annulment.’

‘I need to know why.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Yes, I do.’

I threw up my hands, exasperated. ‘Matteo, you don’t—’

‘Not an affair…’ he mused out loud. ‘But something else. What could it be?’

Was he really so dense? Had the concept of true love really never occurred to him? Was it so off his radar that he couldn’t imagine me or anyone else wanting it? Or was it that I was so unappealing to him he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting me?

I shook my head, deciding to end his misery. ‘I’m twenty-six years old, Matteo. I want a real marriage one day. A real family.’

I heard the ache of longing in my voice, and I knew he heard it too. A baby…that was what I really wanted. A family of my own—something I’d never had. I’d take the husband too, of course, but his image was a lot hazier.

‘A family?’ He looked surprised. ‘You want children?’

‘Yes—children, a husband, the lot. Most people do. Don’t you?’

He was silent for a moment. ‘I will need an heir eventually,’ he said at last.

I spread my hands. ‘There you go. We both need something other than a convenient marriage in name only. So this annulment works for both of us.’

‘I already told you it doesn’t for me.’

‘Because of your grandfather?’

‘Yes, because of him. As long as he is alive I must stay married—which you know.’

‘You said it would no longer be an issue after two years.’

‘Because I thought he would be dead.’

I flinched at that, because it sounded so horribly cold. Matteo swore under his breath and then whirled around on his heel, driving one hand through his ink-dark hair, making it ruffled in a way that would have been cute—except nothing about Matteo Dias was cute. He was dark, deadly, powerful, and incredibly charismatic. I felt drawn to him like a moth to dangerous flame, and unlike that hapless insect I knew I’d get burned.

Which was one of the reasons I wanted an annulment. Without Matteo Dias even on the periphery of my life there was far less danger of being singed. I’d already spent too much time poring over those magazine articles, wondering about the man I’d married and wishing he’d show a little interest in me. But I should have known someone as potently male, as powerful and autocratic as Matteo Dias, would balk at the idea of an annulment. He was a man who called the shots, who needed to be in control. And here I was, trying to take the reins.

Matteo turned around to face me, and that rush of incredulous rage had been replaced by something icily composed, leaving the angles of his beautiful face hard and unforgiving.

‘I am not giving you an annulment.’

‘You don’t have any choice,’ I shot back.

But inside I quailed. Matteo Dias had a lot more money and power than I did. Giving back his money was going to have me living on pennies, no matter what I’d told him. But I had to be free. I had to have a chance to pursue my dream of love and family—otherwise what point was there in anything?

But of course Matteo didn’t understand that, and I had no desire to spell it out for him.

Looking at him now, I saw a new hardness in his eyes, felt the unrelenting iron in his soul, and I wondered what had caused him to be so ruthlessly unyielding. It reminded me that I knew nothing about this man beyond what I’d read in the tabloids and what he’d chosen to tell me when we’d first met.

I’d been at my lowest point then: six months in the city, out of cash and—in the last few seconds before we met—out of a job for slapping a man’s hand away when he tried to grope me. But more than that, I’d been out of hope—and that was what had led me to consider Matteo’s outrageous offer even for a second and then to accept it.

‘I have a deal for you.’

Those were his first words to me. I was standing on the street in the lashing rain, hugging my bag to my chest and waiting for the bus, when he came out of the diner from where I’d just been fired and walked straight towards me.

I glanced at him uncertainly, because he wasn’t the sort of customer the rundown diner catered to. He was a dark beacon of privilege there on the grimy street, standing tall and proud and determined. I had no idea what he was doing there, much less what he wanted with me.

‘A deal?’ I eyed him warily, pretty sure that any deal he offered would be one I’d want to refuse.

‘Yes, a deal. I saw what happened back in the diner. You were fired for doing nothing but defending yourself. That was wrong.’

The quietly spoken statement, the certainty of it, reached me in a way nothing else had. Ever since I’d arrived in New York I’d been fending off people who wanted something for nothing, who were far too quick to swindle or lie or cheat. Or attack…

A simply spoken truth delivered by a stranger meant a lot…more than it should have.

‘Thank you,’ I managed, with as much as dignity as I could muster. ‘Unfortunately it doesn’t change anything.’

I had enough money for my bus fare and not much else, and I was already a month behind on my rent. I had no family, no friends, nowhere to go—and, worst of all, I wasn’t sure I had the capacity to care about any of it any more.

‘Actually, it could,’ Matteo said quietly, his voice carrying a subtle, silky power. ‘I could. If you will but give me a few moments of your time.’

I eyed him suspiciously. I’d arrived in this city full of wide-eyed optimism, ready and even eager to believe the best of everyone, but I’d wised up since then. At least I’d been trying to.

‘I don’t think so, mister.’ I hunched my shoulder against the rain and peered down the street in the vain hope that a bus would lumber by soon.

Matteo gave a little reassuring smile. ‘It’s not that kind of deal, trust me.’

The way he said it made me flush, because of course it wasn’t that kind of deal. He was way, way out of my league and we both knew it.

‘This is perfectly respectable and legal—entirely above board.’

I eyed him warily. ‘What, then?’

‘I want you to marry me.’

I gaped. I couldn’t process those six words; they bounced off my brain, refusing to make sense. Then, when the shock wore off, I looked around for the spectators, the punchline. Surely he was making fun of me?

Matteo must have seen something of that in my eyes, for he said quietly, ‘No joke. I’m completely serious.’

He nodded towards a café a few doors down from the diner—a far nicer establishment than the one of my previous employment.

‘Why don’t we get out of the rain and talk through it for a few minutes?’

I hesitated, because my instinct was to say absolutely not. Only a few weeks ago I’d believed what a man had said and I’d paid for it—sorely. Surely I wasn’t going to do it again? Especially when this man’s so-called deal was obviously nonsensical?

‘At least have a coffee on me,’ he said.

And that was what sealed it. I was hungry and tired and wet, and I didn’t even have the money for a cup of coffee.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘One coffee.’

A few minutes later we were seated at a quiet table in the back of the café, and I had my hands around the comforting warmth of a large latte—an extravagance I hadn’t had in for ever.

Matteo sat opposite me, sipping a double espresso, the shoulders of his suit coat damp from the rain. When I breathed in, I caught the cedar-scented aroma of his aftershave.

‘So what is this deal, really?’ I asked.

‘What I said. I need to be married.’ He gave me the flicker of a smile. ‘Need being the operative word. I’m not looking for a wife.’

I couldn’t keep my mouth from curling up in cynical bemusement. ‘What do you require, then?’

‘Just a legal document saying I’m married.’ He took another sip of his espresso before resuming. ‘I’ll pay you a million euros up front and then two hundred and fifty thousand euros for every year we remain married. Your housing and all expenses will be provided, and we will never have to lay eyes on each other again.’

I shook my head slowly, unable to take it in. To take him in. Because he was so overwhelming, with his dark hair and steely eyes, his body made up of hard, powerful lines, each one emanating an authority I recognised even if I couldn’t begin to imagine it.

One million euros.

It was crazy. He was crazy. And yet he didn’t look crazy. He looked remarkably and alarmingly sane.

‘Why do you need to get married so badly?’ I asked in a shaky voice.

‘Because my grandfather requires it before I take control of his company—which is something I very much wish to do.’

The words were terse, but I saw the way his jaw clenched and his hands briefly curled into fists, and I knew there was a great deal more to that complicated relationship than I could ever know or guess.

Still, I wondered, why me?

‘Surely you have someone more suitable to ask.’

‘I don’t want someone “suitable”.’

He smiled at me rather grimly before draining his espresso.

‘I want someone unremarkable who will be glad for what I give her, not ask any awkward questions, and most of all stay out of my life, as well as out of the public eye.’

‘So you want a wife who doesn’t act like a wife?’

His smile gleamed white as he nodded his approval. ‘Exactly.’

‘I’m sure there are plenty of women who would accept the money you’re offering. You hardly needed to approach a stranger like me.’

I shook my head, still sensing a catch. Matteo was way out of my league. Why not ask some grasping socialite? Someone with status and privilege and beauty? Most people, I’d found, would do a lot for money.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, crossing one long, powerful leg over the other as he eyed me in consideration.

‘Possibly, but I’m in a rush, and I don’t want any complications with someone who might not view my offer with the gratitude I’d prefer.’ He gave me a quick, cool smile. ‘I’d like to keep my marriage quiet. I don’t want it to…hamper…any of my activities.’

It took a few seconds for his meaning to sink in. ‘You mean you don’t want it to affect your other relationships?’

‘I wouldn’t call them relationships,’ he answered with a quick, hard smile. ‘But, yes, you have grasped the essentials.’

In a flash I understood why he’d asked me—because I was clearly desperate and would be pathetically grateful for what he was offering. And I wouldn’t mind if he slept around while I stayed silent in the shadows.

I felt too tired to be stung, because of course he was right. I was desperate, as well as pathetic enough to be considering his offer seriously for the first time since he’d broached it. At least Matteo, unlike other people I’d met since moving to the city, was honest about his intentions.

‘So,’ I began slowly, ‘we get married and you go on your merry way? That’s it?’

‘Not quite. I need you to move to the island of Amanos, off the coast of Greece, where I have a villa. It’s a very pleasant place, and my home is exceedingly comfortable. You would want for nothing.’

That was quite a big addendum to this deal of his, and yet I had no ties to this city, much as I’d tried to make some. No ties anywhere. Still, I was cautious—and definitely cynical. I’d learned to be.

‘Why there?’ I asked.

He gave me the glimmer of a smile, but there was a warning in his eyes. ‘You are currently not meeting my second requirement.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Do you actually expect me to accept an offer such as yours, and move to a foreign country at that, without asking a few questions?’

Not that I was actually thinking of accepting it. At least not very much.

‘Very well, I will explain it in detail,’ he replied, leaning forward. ‘But in actuality it is really very simple.’

His silvery gaze pinned me to where I sat.

‘This will be a convenient marriage in name only—nothing more than a document to sign. No expectation of any relationship—physical, emotional, or otherwise. You will stay on Amanos so I know where you are, and can call on you if needed, but you will be out of the public eye. In a year—no more than two—the marriage will be annulled and you can go—how did you put it?—on your merry way, quite a bit richer.’

‘Call on me “if needed”? What does that mean?’

He shrugged impatiently, barely more than a twitch of his powerful shoulders. ‘I doubt it will be necessary.’

‘But…?’

‘In case my grandfather needs proof of some sort or wants to check on you…make sure I am indeed married. It is merely a precaution, that is all.’

And also a way for him to be in control, because I strongly suspected Matteo Dias was a man who needed to be in control of everything—including me. Something I resisted instinctively.

‘And in a year or two?’ I asked. ‘Why would you annul the marriage then?’

‘My grandfather has been diagnosed with cancer. He’s not been given very long to live.’

He spoke so coldly that I drew back a little.

Matteo bared his teeth in a grim smile. ‘As you are most likely able to surmise, we are not close.’

‘So you want me to marry you and then live on some remote island for a maximum of two years?’

Not that it sounded so bad right then. I was a breath away from being homeless as it was. And yet it would be a prison of sorts, and it meant giving this man all the power—two things I really didn’t like.

‘There could be worse things, surely?’

Of course there could. And yet…

‘Why should I trust you? I could agree and you could bundle me into the back of a van in the next second.’

Matteo’s eyes flashed with ire, as if he disliked being accused in such a way. ‘I could bundle you into the back of a van regardless of whether you agree or not. If you need some guarantees I shall put them in place.’

‘How?’

He shrugged. ‘Everything will be written in a legal contract and witnessed.’

I shook my head. ‘That’s not worth very much. How do I know I can trust you not to take advantage?’

His gaze raked me from head to toe. ‘Trust me, I will not take advantage.’

Ouch. My cheeks flushed and I focused my humiliated gaze on my coffee. Why was I even having this conversation?

‘But if it makes you feel better, everything can be done in public—the contract, the marriage itself, your transport. I’ll book a first-class ticket on a commercial airline.’

I hesitated, because it all sounded too good to be true, and I knew what that looked like. I knew what it felt like. Just the memory of Chris Dawson’s leering face and grasping hands was enough to turn my stomach and make me want to hang my head in shame. Surely I’d wised up since then? Realised that people spouted honeyed words and then watched you get stuck in them?

‘There must be some catch,’ I protested.

‘No catch.’

‘There’s always a catch.’

‘This time there isn’t.’

He placed one hand on my arm, making me jolt. A warm rush of longing swept through me, surprising me in its strength, because his touch was so clearly one of empathy rather than desire. I was smart enough to realise that this man did not think of me that way, and most likely never would—which was a good thing. That was a complication, not to mention a danger, I most certainly didn’t need.

He gave me a smiling look of understanding and compassion, and its warmth strengthened that surge of longing in a way that made me feel deeply uneasy. It was one thing to be physically attracted to a man like Matteo Dias. That was inevitable. It was another matter entirely to connect with him emotionally—even for a second. Far, far too dangerous.

I pulled away and he dropped his hand.

‘I understand why you’d be concerned. You’ve had a bad experience recently, and it’s all too easy to be taken advantage of these days—especially when you are a young woman on your own. You are on your own?’

It was barely a question, and it grated that it was so obvious I had no one in my life—no boyfriend, no family, no friends, even. ‘Yes.’ I forced myself to give him a direct look. ‘How did you know?’

Matteo shrugged. ‘There is a…a loneliness about you. Like a mist.’

I looked away, hating the fact that my eyes were stinging at his surprisingly compassionate and yet brutally honest assessment. A loneliness like a mist? Yes, I felt that—cloaking me in its sadness even though I didn’t want to be sad. I’d always tried to see the sunny side of life, to be optimistic even when there was little reason to be so. Sometimes it felt like the only good thing I had, but too many experiences lately had robbed me of my hope. My joy. And now this…

‘So please,’ Matteo continued, ‘let me reassure you that this offer is entirely above board. I will draw up an agreement that will protect your rights as well as my own. If you come to the courthouse in an hour you can read and sign that agreement, and then I’ll deposit the money in your bank account and arrange your travel to Athens. I can have someone meet you there, or you can arrange your own travel, if that makes you feel safer. Let someone know where you are going if you need a safeguard. Whatever you want. You’ll be in control of everything, with zero risk.’

His mouth curved, his teeth flashing white as he read the name badge on my waitress uniform.

‘Trust me, Daisy, this is your lucky day.’

And so it was—although I felt more anxious than excited when I met him at the courthouse an hour later.

We went over the contract in painstaking detail, although the numbers and words all blurred in my mind.

‘Are you sure about this?’ Matteo asked me seriously.

Again that surprising compassion warmed his eyes, making me do the one thing I’d been sure, right up until that moment, I wouldn’t. I said yes.

Triumph blazed in his eyes then, and I wondered if I was crazy. Was I throwing my life away? My freedom and even my safety? I didn’t know this man.

And yet something about him, despite his hard ruthlessness and innate arrogance, made me trust him. Stupidly, because I’d already learned not to trust people, and yet some stubborn part of me still kept wanting to.

Besides, I told myself, as Matteo had said, I would be in control. I watched him wire the money to my bank account. I saw him book the first-class ticket to Athens. He did both just minutes after the marriage ceremony, which was so fast I could have blinked and missed it. We exchanged no rings. We didn’t even touch. It felt completely soulless, and yet it was legally binding.

Afterwards Matteo took my hands in his own, which were warm and dry and strangely comforting. He stared into my eyes, a smile curving his mouth, making him seem softer somehow. Kinder.

‘Thank you, Daisy,’ he said, and his voice was full of warmth.

Foolish me, my heart fluttered.

Foolish because the next words out of his mouth were, ‘Hopefully we’ll never have to see each other again.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘I STILL DON’T understand why you want an annulment.’

Daisy Campbell—no, Daisy Dias—had surprised me a few too many times this evening, and this surprise was the most unwelcome one of all. I’d given her everything she could possibly want. Why would she want to hand it all back? It was the last thing I expected. The last thing I wanted.

I married Daisy Campbell both to satisfy and to spite my grandfather, and it was so very sweet to experience both when I tossed the marriage certificate on Bastian Arides’s desk and informed him of my new status.

‘You made a condition and it has now been met.’

‘And your wife?’ he asked, looking stunned by my bloodless coup.

I laughed as I told him the truth. ‘A dumpy nobody of a waitress I picked up from a diner in New York. She’s currently residing on Amanos, in case you feel the need to check.’

Bastian’s mouth dropped open; he’d expected me to marry some suitable socialite he could add to the family pedigree—some way, perhaps, to justify my place in his life, bastard grandson that I was. Little did he know me. Little did he realise how deep my need for vengeance, for justice ran.

‘I think you’ll find I’ve won, old man,’ I said as I strolled out of his office. ‘The condition you made to the board has been met in full.’

Bastian shook his head, his expression one of both defeat and fury. ‘That is not what I meant, Matteo, and you know it.’

‘Too bad you weren’t more specific, then.’

The clause in the agreement to transfer his shares to me had been clear—marry, and stay married, in order to get his shares and sixty percent of the stock in Arides Enterprises, and therefore complete control of the company. The board had agreed; everyone had signed. And I’d done what he asked.

I had what I wanted and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. I was now in control of Arides Enterprises—the company his father had built from scratch, the company he’d wanted to hand on to his legitimate grandson, Andreas.

But of course that was impossible. Instead he’d had to hand it to me, his only heir and the only person in the company capable of running a multimillion-dollar enterprise. The person who had taken the lagging sales and outdated practices and dragged them into the twenty-first century—and into the black.

Now, as I looked at my so-called dumpy waitress of a wife, I realised she was neither. She sparkled—and it wasn’t just the dress. Her eyes glittered like topaz, her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved. Everything about her seemed alive and shockingly vibrant. Desirable. How extraordinary. How unexpected. It made me pause, my mind reviewing everything she’d said.

‘I told you—I want a chance at a real marriage,’ she insisted. ‘A family.’

‘A family? The biological clock is ticking, I suppose?’

She folded her arms, her expression turning mutinous. ‘Something like that.’

I could give her a baby.

It was a novel thought, and admittedly not entirely unwelcome. Yes, I needed an heir…eventually. It was something I’d postponed, put off to the misty, distant future because it hadn’t felt urgent or necessary. And yet…I was thirty-six. The lifestyle I’d been living was starting to lose its appeal—at least a little. And I was already married.

Why would I want to bother with the hassle of courting some other woman when I had one right here? One I was, much to my own surprise, finding desirable?

Still, this would take some thought. Some planning. The last thing I wanted to do was rush into a lifetime commitment with someone who was still essentially a stranger.

And yet…Daisy was biddable. Acceptable. And she’d already agreed to a marriage of convenience. Why not a marriage that was convenient on slightly different terms?

‘You’re still young,’ I remarked. ‘Another year wouldn’t make much difference to your plans.’ Although for some reason the prospect my words implied irritated me.

‘And is that how long it would be?’ she countered. ‘A few months ago I read in the paper that your grandfather is celebrating his unexpected all-clear from cancer.’ Her lips twisted. ‘Something I doubt you expected.’

Damn those nosy tabloids. ‘I’m pleased he’s had such successful treatment, of course,’ I answered levelly.

He’d been declared in remission, rather than in the clear, but I wasn’t going to debate the point. The truth was he’d lasted longer than anyone had expected—myself most of all.

‘And you need to remain married for as long as he’s alive, as I recall?’

Her golden-brown eyes met mine in challenge and held me there.

‘Did you ever plan to inform me that the duration of our marriage was going to be a bit longer than you had said?’

‘I assumed you were satisfied with the arrangement,’ I stated coolly.

‘You assumed wrong.’

Her voice was as cool as my own. When had she developed such confidence? Such poise? The woman I remembered from the diner had been beaten down by life, as well as frightened of its possibilities. I’d chosen her for exactly those reasons. And while, judging by her dress, Daisy might still need to develop some sense of style, she had plenty of courage.

I felt a flicker of admiration for her, and promptly suppressed it.

‘Why not wait another year?’ I pressed. ‘I doubt it will be longer than that. Then you won’t have to give back the money. You’re giving up a lot, Daisy, and for what? A chance at something that might not even happen?’

Hurt flashed in her eyes as her chin went up. ‘Thanks a lot.’

‘There’s no one at the moment, is there?’ I reminded her, thinking that she had better not be lying to me about that. ‘And you said you intend to stay on Amanos. Do you really think you’re going to find Mr Right there?’

‘I have better chance of doing so if I’m not married to Mr Wrong,’ she retorted. ‘Although perhaps I’ll just act as if the marriage has been annulled if you refuse to agree it.’

Fury surged through me along with something else—something hot and molten and fierce. Although I suspected her words were nothing but an empty threat, they still had the power to enrage me.

‘You will not go down that forsaken route,’ I ground out. ‘Is that clear?’

She shrugged, the movement of her slender shoulders tautening the material across her breasts.

‘There’s nothing about it in our agreement. I don’t have to be faithful, since you certainly haven’t been. I could even have a child without you.’ Her eyes flashed fire. ‘Consider this nothing more than a courtesy call.’

My fists clenched. ‘I will not be made a cuckold so you can have an illegitimate child.’ I spoke savagely, memories pounding through me in a relentless tide of rejection.

You’re nothing but a bastard. You were born one, you will remain one, and you will die one.

I certainly wouldn’t countenance another one being brought into the world, for that was what it would be if Daisy had a child that was not my own.

‘I hardly think that’s what we’re talking about here.’

Daisy’s chin was still lifted, but her lips trembled. She wasn’t as confident as she pretended. The thought brought satisfaction, as well as a surprising shaft of disappointment. Some contrary part of me had enjoyed her boldness.

‘And you can’t exactly call yourself cuckolded considering we’ve never…?’ Her voice wavered and she looked away.

‘We’ve never…?’ I prompted silkily.

My blood was flowing hotly through my veins and that slinky tube of a dress was begging to be peeled off her curvaceous body. What I’d insisted I would never do suddenly seemed like a very good idea. The right idea, all things considered. I could prove a point, and do it quite pleasurably.

‘You know what I mean,’ Daisy said, her voice little more than a whisper.

‘What I know,’ I replied as I closed the distance between us so that I could feel the heat rolling off her body and she could feel it off mine, ‘is that a few minutes ago you told me you wanted a baby.’

Her lips parted and her eyes widened in realisation. ‘Not yours.’

‘And yet I’m your husband,’ I remarked. ‘Wanting my baby is the most sensible idea, really.’

‘N…no,’ she stammered. ‘It isn’t.’

Her skin was pale golden and freckled and she smelled of vanilla and almonds. Delicious. I lifted my hand and traced the pure line of her collarbone with the tip of my finger.

She shuddered under my touch and took a step back. ‘You’re taking this all wrong.’

‘I really don’t think I am.’

‘What happened to marriage in name only?’

Yes, what had happened to it? It was starting not to seem like such a good idea. Distantly I remembered the original purposes for my marriage—to spite my grandfather and keep living my life the way I wanted to. And yet somewhere, tangled up in all that, had been the desire to do some good to someone and even be honourable about it—although whether I’d achieved those aims was debatable.

Yet all of it—all my resolutions and all my revenge—went up in smoke as I looked at Daisy standing in front of me, a flame of beauty, firing my own desire. In this moment all I wanted was her.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘we should renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.’

Matteo’s eyes turned the colour of smoke as he took another deliberate step towards me, his intent clear in every taut line of his body. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move, to think. I’d never expected this—the heat in his eyes, the sure touch of his hand. The mere caress of his fingertips on my collarbone had sent arrows of exquisite sensation shafting through me. If he touched me again…

Why did that feel like a promise?

‘Matteo, you’ve made it very clear that you want a marriage in name only.’

My voice and legs both shook as I managed a step backwards, away from this sudden new temptation. I’d always known Matteo was handsome, appealing, sexual. But I’d thought I was strong enough, smart enough, to stay immune. Clearly I wasn’t.

‘Don’t mess that up just because your pride is dented by my asking for an annulment,’ I said, trying to sound reasonable instead of terrified…and tempted. So, so tempted.

‘This isn’t about pride, Daisy. It’s about desire.’

His voice was as smooth as silk, so assured as it flowed over me. He took a step closer, close enough that I could breathe the woodsy scent of him again, and it made me dizzy.

‘I meant—’ I began, my voice wobbling, but I was silenced by the touch of his hands spanning my waist.

‘And this is what I meant.’

His palms were warm and strong through the thin material of my dress, pulling me towards him. I gasped out loud as he captured my mouth in a kiss that demanded—and I gave.

I’d been kissed only once before in my life, by a man I’d found odious. As Matteo’s lips came down on mine I instinctively braced myself for a similar experience—bad breath, slimy tongue, pawing hands.

It took only a millisecond for me to realise how ridiculous that notion was, how little I had to fear, and yet at the same time how much. Matteo’s kiss was as different from the first one I’d had as the ocean to a mud puddle.

His mouth possessed mine as he explored it with sensual thoroughness, obliterating thought and weakening my knees, his tongue and lips moving in a dance as old as the ages and yet feeling startlingly new. How could a kiss do so much? It was practically a weapon.

But he didn’t stop with a kiss. His hands moved from my waist to my breast, his palm cupping it with that same deft and shocking assuredness, his thumb running over the peak. I mewled. I actually mewled. I felt as if I didn’t know myself any more—this creature who melted like candle wax, who clamoured for more. Because I wanted more from him—more than a kiss, a caress. In that moment I wanted it all.

Without even realising what I was doing, I clenched my hands on the lapels of his tuxedo and opened my mouth under his, inviting him in. I stood on my tiptoes and swayed as he anchored his hands on my hips and tugged me towards him.

My hips collided with that particularly impressive and overwhelming part of his anatomy, and it was enough to send a blast of icy realisation through me.

I stumbled back.

What was I doing? What was he doing?

‘Don’t!’ I managed to gasp, even though everything in me was reeling, my senses exploding like fireworks as if my whole body had come alive under his hands, my skin still prickling with need.

‘Are you sure you mean that?’

Besides a slight flush on his blade-like cheekbones, Matteo looked remarkably unaffected. He sank his hands into his pockets, his gaze terribly cool. The realisation that his kiss had affected me far more than it had him was utterly humiliating, and sudden unfortunate tears stung my eyes.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘I think I could convince you otherwise.’

Already the flush had left his face and he stood there, the archetype of assured arrogance, his shoulders thrust back, his jaw set, his eyes glittering—while I was still raggedly panting, my heart rate skittering all over the place.

‘Only to prove a point,’ I choked out as I willed my flush to fade and my heart to slow. ‘You’ve told me enough times already.’

‘What?’

He raised his eyebrows, sounding distinctly nonplussed by my statement. Did he not remember? Had he not realised how insultingly clear he’d been about making sure this was a marriage in name only? Didn’t he recall the scathing look he’d given me, the reassurance that he would have no need to take advantage?

Which, of course, had been what I wanted too. Still wanted. It was just that his contrary kiss had rocked me for a second. I was already recovering—or so I told myself.

I lifted my chin, heedless of the tears that I knew still sparkled in my eyes. ‘Come on, Matteo. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t find me…desirable.’ Stupidly, it hurt to say the words out loud.

Matteo gave me a smugly amused look, his lips curving, a surprising dimple appearing in one cheek. I realised I’d never actually seen him smile before—not properly.

‘I think I just proved to you otherwise.’

‘You were proving something,’ I agreed, unable to keep hurt from lacing every word. ‘But I think it had more to do with power than need.’

The dark slashes of his eyebrows drew together in a frown. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘You didn’t want me going ahead with an annulment…doing something that isn’t sanctioned and signed off by you. I get it.’

I shook my head, suddenly exhausted, both emotionally and physically, with the aftershocks of his touch still zinging through me. It had taken all my emotional reserves to survive this encounter, after three years of peace and quiet and solitude.

What had I been thinking, coming here with my request? Knowing Matteo Dias would refuse it? Because I realised that while I still longed for a child, a family, the need as deep and fervent as ever, I didn’t have the strength to fight my husband for my freedom. Not when he held all the cards and had all the power.

‘You think that’s why I kissed you?’ Matteo demanded, sounding irritated by the idea.

I raised my shoulders in a weary shrug. ‘Are you saying differently—that you were suddenly overcome by passion for me and couldn’t control yourself?’ I let out a humourless laugh. ‘As if.’

Matteo’s frown deepened and he didn’t reply. His narrowed gaze was assessing and, I feared, would dismiss me in the space of a few seconds.

‘No, of course not,’ he said finally. ‘Don’t be absurd.’

His words should have vindicated me, but they only deflated me further. Of course that hadn’t been the case. He’d just been using me to prove a point—and suddenly I couldn’t bear it. I thought of the loathsome Chris Dawson again, the look of revulsion on his face as I stumbled away.

Do you honestly think you’re worth that much, sweetheart? You’re deluded.

I thought I’d wised up since then, but I could see now that I was still under the most unbearable delusion—thinking that someone like Matteo Dias would agree to my plan and bend to my will, even desire me as a woman, rather than make me a point to be proved.

In that moment I couldn’t fathom why I had come here at all. Had it simply been a perfect storm of memory and loss? The anniversary of my parents’ death, the marriage of my closest friend back on Amanos, the feeling that, as happy and busy as I was, I was still alone?

I was always alone, and I would always be alone as long as I was married to this man.

‘Never mind, Matteo.’ I choked the words out, wanting only to escape his ruthless, arrogant sneer and get to the solitude and safety of my hotel room. ‘I’ve changed my mind. I’ll stay married to you. For another year, at least.’

I whirled around far too fast in my slinky dress and towering heels. I started to stumble and I gasped, flinging my hands out to break my inevitable fall, but then Matteo steadied me, his hands warm and firm on my shoulders.

‘Daisy…’ he said in a low voice.

He sounded…what? Sad? Apologetic? Or just exasperated at the fact that he’d had to deal with me at all and that I wasn’t doing as he bade?

‘I’ll leave for Amanos in the morning,’ I said, and, wrenching myself out of his arms, I hurried blindly from the room.

CHAPTER FOUR

WHAT HAD JUST HAPPENED?

Daisy had left—that was what. And I had kissed her. A shockingly pleasurable kiss that had left me aching in a way I hadn’t in a long time. In fact, in living memory.

I released a shuddering breath as I raked a hand through my hair, my heart thudding a little too hard for my liking. And yet I also felt invigorated, fully alive, as if that kiss had shocked something dormant inside me and sprung it into life.

I was pulsing with both memory and desire even as I was trying to make sense of Daisy’s words, her hurt. She thought I didn’t desire her, when surely even the most innocent woman would have realised that I obviously did. And yet I had been as surprised by my desire as Daisy had—if not more so. I’d never expected to want the woman, and certainly not in the way that I had—with explosive and alarming force, as if a tsunami had crashed over the both of us, pulling us under.

I might have started to kiss her to prove a point, but it had become something else entirely. Something outrageous and overwhelming—even now I was half tempted to chase after her and prove to her just how much I desired her and how much she desired me. I’d felt it in the way her mouth had opened under mine, her hands pulling at my shoulders, drawing me to her.

The memory alone was enough to send heat searing through my body, and I took a step forward before I stilled.

No. I did not chase after women. And certainly not the likes of Daisy, wife or not. I should be relieved that she clearly regretted her ridiculous impulse to ask for an annulment. She’d leave for Amanos in the morning, and if I had my preference I’d never see her again—which was how I’d always wanted it.

So why did the prospect unsettle me? It almost made me feel guilty—as if I’d treated Daisy badly, when I knew I had not. I had given her a fortune, a home to live in, and required nothing from her save that she stay put. If she was no longer satisfied with the arrangement we’d agreed on, that was her fault—not mine.

And yet…I couldn’t get the image of her out of my mind. The ridiculous red dress that had highlighted her figure in such a breathtaking display, her cloud of light brown hair and the fractured hurt in her topaz eyes. And the reality was pressing in on me that I would need an heir. A proper wife. And the one I currently had might actually fit the bill. After all, Daisy had been happy enough with our convenient marriage. Why shouldn’t she be satisfied with what I had to offer her now—the ability to have a child, a family of her own? She could even stay on Amanos, as was her preference. And my own life wouldn’t have to change—at least not much.

Could it be that simple? Was it what I really wanted?

Mulling it over, I headed back to the party.

‘Matteo, you’ve been gone for ages.’

A skinny arm wound through my own as my companion for the evening pouted prettily up at me, no doubt thinking she looked seductive rather than petulant. I stared down at her, trying to remember her name.

‘Matteo?’

‘I had some business to take care of.’

I reached for a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray and drained it in one long swallow. Daisy’s image was still flashing behind my eyes. Those hurt eyes. Why did they unsettle me so much? I’d managed to completely forget Daisy for three years. Why couldn’t I get her out of my mind now?

‘Business?’

The woman whose name I couldn’t remember deepened her pout, making her look like a sulky child. Did she honestly think that was alluring, or that I would care? I gazed down at her expertly made-up face and registered the calculation in her eyes.

As if on cue, she nestled closer to me.

‘This party’s rather dull, isn’t it? How about we go upstairs?’

She gave me a knowingly seductive look that normally would have had me smiling just as knowingly back, but for some reason it made my stomach clench and my body recoil. I didn’t want this woman. I wanted another one—with topaz eyes and a ridiculous red dress.

‘Matteo…?’

On any other evening I would have taken up this woman’s offer—and gladly. I’d arranged my marriage to satisfy my grandfather’s vindictive demand and also to grant me the minimum of inconvenience—and for the last three years I had been inconvenienced very little indeed. Yet now I thought of the paltry pleasures available to me and realised how little they appealed.

It was a strange thought, but I realised it was not a new one. Those pleasures had been palling for some time, and it had simply taken one shocking encounter with my wayward wife to make me realise it.

‘I’m busy tonight,’ I told the woman—Veronique, I’d remembered—and watched, unmoved, as her mouth dropped open in surprise and then her eyes narrowed.

‘It’s not that frumpy tramp, is it?’ she asked.

A sudden red-hot rage blazed through me. ‘You will not talk about her like that,’ I snapped.

Veronique’s expression managed to turn both smug and desolate. ‘It is