He needs an heir.

She’ll give him so much more...

Scarred tycoon Alex Santos’s Greek island estate is a fortress—protecting those outside from the darkness within him. When he needs a wife to secure his business, his discreet, compassionate housekeeper, Milly, agrees to his proposal. But their wedding night sparks an unexpected fire, and the consequences force Alex to face his painful past... Could Milly—and his unborn child—be the key to Alex’s redemption?

Escape to the Greek islands with this marriage of convenience

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

Seduced by a Sheikh miniseries

The Secret Heir of Alazar

The Forced Bride of Alazar

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Greek’s Baby of Redemption

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08781-0

GREEK’S BABY OF REDEMPTION

© 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.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

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

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘STAY.’

Milly James stilled, shock racing through her at the sound of that single word, uttered in a husky voice by a man she’d never actually seen in person. Her employer.

‘Pardon...?’ She turned around slowly, blinking into the dim gloom of the wood-panelled study, the curtains drawn against the Aegean’s azure sky, the tiniest sliver of lemony sunlight peeking through the heavy material. It was a beautiful summer’s day, but in the gloomy shroud of the study it could have been the depths of a dark winter’s night, the thick stone walls of the villa keeping out the island’s baking heat.

‘Stay.’

It was clearly a command, uttered with brusque authority, and so slowly she closed the door, the final-sounding click echoing in through the room.

She hadn’t even realised he was in the study when she’d opened the door to do her usual dusting, only to stumble back at the sight of him sitting in the shadows, barely visible.

Alexandro Santos’ instructions had been clear—he was not to be disturbed. Ever. And now she’d unwittingly done just that, because she’d heard the car motor starting and she’d thought he’d gone out. Her heart climbed its way to her throat as she tried to make him out through the gloom. Was he angry? How could she have been so careless? ‘I’m sorry, Kyrie Santos. I didn’t realise you were here. Is...is there something you need?’ she asked in as steady a voice as she could.

In the nearly six months since she’d been hired as housekeeper by Alexandro Santos, she’d never spoken to him, save for the first, rather abrupt conversation on the telephone when he’d offered her employment. This was the first time he’d been back to his luxurious retreat on the Greek island of Naxos since she’d started work, and she’d been tiptoeing around the villa for the last two days, trying to avoid him since he’d made it so clear he didn’t want to be bothered. At all. And now she might have messed it up completely.

‘I’m very sorry,’ she blurted, wishing he would say something to break the taut silence. ‘I won’t disturb you again...’

‘Never mind that.’ He dismissed her words with a flick of his fingers; she sensed the movement rather than saw it. ‘You asked if I needed something, Miss James.’ He spoke in a cold drawl, more than a hint of darkness in his tone. She wished she could see his face; the room was so very dark, and the sliver of light barely touched the top of his midnight-dark head.

She blinked, her eyes straining to see more, and, as if he sensed her scrutiny, he moved from where he’d been sitting behind his desk, walking to the window so his back was to her, the light gilding his outline in gold—all six feet three of powerfully built man, his crisp white shirt stretching tautly across his back and broad shoulders.

‘Yes,’ he answered his own question. ‘I do need something.’

‘Then how can I help you?’ Milly asked, glad that there might be something she could do. ‘Would you like a meal...or the room tidied...?’ She trailed off, because she had the sudden, inexplicable sense that he didn’t want either of those things, and she felt foolish for offering them.

Alexandro Santos didn’t answer her. He hadn’t moved, and she still couldn’t see his face. She knew what he looked like from the Internet search she’d done when she’d first been hired: dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, cold, blue eyes, a body of leashed and lethal power.

Ridiculously handsome, but in a way that had trailed a chilly finger of unease along her spine. He’d looked both intent and remote, a fierce determination in those blue, blue eyes, a sense of distance about him so even in a crowd he stood out, apart. Now she couldn’t see him at all, and that wasn’t any better.

‘How long have you been working for me, Miss James?’ he asked after another endless moment.

‘Nearly six months.’ Milly shifted where she stood, trying not to fidget. He had no reason to fire her, surely? No cause for complaint. For the last five and a half months she’d kept the villa clean, helped in the garden, and paid all the household bills. As housekeeper for a house that was empty most of the time, she knew she had an easy job, but she loved the villa and the island of Naxos, and she’d been very glad for the work—and the pay.

Although some might have found her life lonely, it suited Milly perfectly. After too many years on the fringes of her parents’ chaotic social scene, bounced from boarding school to boarding school, with an endless round of vapid and dissipated parties in between, she’d been looking forward to some solitude...as well as the extremely generous salary Alexandro had offered. He couldn’t take it away now, not when she was getting closer to saving the kind of money she needed to make Anna safe and happy, for ever.

‘Six months.’ Alexandro turned slightly so she could make out his profile—the close-cut dark hair, the straight nose, the angled cheekbone and full lip. He looked like a statue—a dark, dangerous and beautiful block of marble, perfect and so very cold. Even in the dim room, she sensed a remoteness about him, a certain distance in the way he held his body, angled his head. ‘Are you happy here?’

‘Happy?’ The question, the idea, startled her. Why should he care for her happiness? ‘Yes. Very.’

‘It must be rather lonely, though.’

‘I don’t mind my own company.’ She relaxed a fraction, because it seemed as if he were merely concerned for her welfare. And yet...that didn’t seem like her employer at all, a man who, according to the Internet, at least, was a cold, driven workaholic, with whispers of ruthlessness towards his competitors. A man who was photographed at various social scenes looking hard and unsmiling; sometimes there would be an elegant woman draped on his arm, but he rarely paid them any attention, at least in the photos and videos she’d looked at. It was almost as if they weren’t there at all.

‘Still, you’re quite young.’ He paused, and Milly waited. ‘How old...?’

‘Twenty-four.’ Which he must have known from her rather brief and unremarkable CV.

‘And you went to university...’

‘Yes, in England.’ Four years studying modern languages, and she was fluent in Italian and French as well as her native English, and now she had a smattering of Greek, as well. But Alexandro Santos knew all this.

‘Surely you have more ambition, then?’ he asked. ‘Than cleaning rooms...?’

‘I’m perfectly happy as I am, Kyrie Santos.’

‘Please, call me Alex.’ She remained silent. ‘You haven’t considered moving back to Paris? You were working as a translator, I believe, before you came here?’

‘Yes.’ And being paid peanuts compared to her salary now. She thought of her days in a drab office, translating dreary business letters. Then she thought of Philippe, with his golden hair and gleaming smile, his oh-so-honeyed words, and her insides shuddered. ‘I have no desire to go back to Paris, Kyrie—’

‘Alex.’

She said nothing, uncertain and again on edge, wondering where this unsettling line of inquiry was meant to lead.

‘What about romance?’ he asked abruptly, shocking her. ‘A husband, children...? Do you want those things, eventually?’

Milly hesitated, unsure how to respond. Surely the question was inappropriate, coming from an employer? And yet how could she not answer?

‘I ask because I prefer continuity,’ Alex resumed, almost as if he’d been able to read her thoughts. ‘If you’re going to leave after a year to follow some man...’

‘I am not going to follow some man,’ Milly retorted with stiff dignity. Once upon a time, she would have followed Philippe. She would have followed him anywhere, until she’d found out the truth. Until he’d told her. Even now she could recall the mocking glint in his eyes, the cruel twist to his mouth. She forced the image away and focused on Alex Santos, even though she could barely see him. ‘The question is offensive.’

‘Is it?’ Alex continued to gaze out through the crack between the curtains. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. She felt like a prop in a play, something he could almost forget was there. And yet he was asking her such personal questions...why? ‘And what of children?’ he asked after another long moment.

Milly tried not to gape. ‘I haven’t thought about that,’ she said at last. ‘I’m not interested in having children now, at any rate.’

‘Not now? Or not ever?’

Milly shrugged helplessly. ‘Certainly not now. And perhaps not ever. Not any time soon.’ She knew how fractured and fraught families could be, and while on some level she might have the maternal instinct most women possessed, she had no desire to kick-start it. Anna was her primary concern.

‘So you do not wish to have children?’

Milly felt herself flush. Why was he trying to pin her down on this? ‘Maybe one day,’ she half muttered. ‘I haven’t thought that far ahead. But really, I can’t see how it is any concern of yours.’

‘Perhaps you will.’

‘I’m sorry...?’ He didn’t answer and she released the pent-up breath that had bottled inside her lungs. ‘Is that all, Kyrie... Alex?’ she finally asked. ‘If so, I’ll go now...’

‘That’s not all.’ His words stopped her in her tracks. ‘I have a proposition for you, Miss James.’

‘A proposition?’ She didn’t like the sound of that. The word was loaded with meaning, laced with innuendo, even when spoken in Alexandro Santos’ curt tone. ‘I’m not sure I...’

‘A perfectly respectable one. As respectable as one could possibly be, in fact.’ A note of rather bleak humour that she didn’t understand had entered his voice, and so she simply waited, having no idea how to respond. ‘A business offer,’ Alex clarified. ‘A very generous one. You accepted this position because of the salary, did you not?’

‘Yes...’ And to get away from Paris and the mocking eyes of Philippe and his crowd, but she wasn’t about to go into that.

‘Money is an incentive to you?’

‘Financial stability is.’ And saving money for Anna, but that was something else she had no intention of explaining. It was all too complicated, too sad and too sordid, and her employer did not need to know her personal details.

‘And my business proposition will certainly give you financial stability. In fact, that might be considered its chief benefit. But I admit, it might seem, at first glance, a rather unconventional idea.’ He let out a humourless rasp of laughter that would have chilled her if it hadn’t seemed so despairing. ‘Although perhaps not, considering how sensible and level-headed you seem. I think you might well see the practical advantages.’

‘Thank you, I think?’ Milly gazed at him uneasily, completely out of her depth. ‘But I really have no idea what you’re talking about. What is this...business proposition?’

Although she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like something expected or normal. What could he possibly want from her, in exchange for money?

She wasn’t naïve; neither was she, sadly, that innocent. She had an inkling of what he might want, and yet she could hardly credit such a possibility. She knew she wasn’t pretty—mousy-brown hair, same coloured eyes, a slight, unassuming figure. She wasn’t the sort to incite impassioned desire in any man, never mind what she’d once foolishly, so foolishly, let herself believe, with stars in her eyes and fairy tales in her heart. But she wasn’t going to think about Philippe.

And it would be just as foolish now to imagine that a man like Alexandro Santos, a handsome billionaire who could probably have any woman he wanted, was interested in her in that way. It was laughable, utterly so, and she would do well to remember that. Just looking at him now, shrouded in darkness, emanating a dark and innate authority as well as an undeniable charisma, made her realise how far apart they were in their experiences. Even when she couldn’t see him, she felt him, like an electric pulse in the air—dangerous and exciting, and definitely off-limits.

Yet what could he want? What else did she have? Her mind darted into possible corners, disliking what she imagined there. What if he was into something...well, strange? Some kind of fetish or weird kink he wouldn’t dare suggest to anyone he considered respectable...but no, she was being really fanciful now. Maybe he simply wanted her housekeeping services.

Perhaps he wanted to fly her to Athens to clean his penthouse there. But Milly knew she was fooling herself. Dusting and sweeping were hardly the most marketable or desirable skills, and it was obvious whatever Alex Santos was about to suggest was something out of the ordinary.

‘Kyrie Santos...’

‘Alex.’

‘Alex.’ She made herself repeat his name, the syllables sounding sharp as they came out of her mouth, like the pins turning in a lock. He still hadn’t turned, hadn’t spoken. ‘Are you going to tell me what this proposition of yours is?’

He didn’t turn from the window as he answered, his voice flat, toneless, without any warmth. ‘I want you to marry me.’

* * *

Although Alex remained staring out of the window so Milly couldn’t see his full face, he felt her shock. It rippled through the room like an electric current, pulsing between them with a dangerous charge. He angled his head so he could glance back at her, his eyes straining in the darkness. Her own almond-brown eyes widened, her pink lips parting.

She wasn’t a beautiful woman by any means, but there was something compelling about her slender frame, the innate dignity in the proud set of her shoulders, the tilt of her chin. To his surprise, Alex felt a shaft of interest slice through him—desire, something he hadn’t felt in years. That was rather inconvenient.

‘You’re...you’re not serious,’ she finally stammered.

‘I assure you, I am.’

‘Why would you want to marry me?’

It was, of course, an excellent question, and one Alex intended to answer truthfully. There would be no games in their marriage, no pretence in what he intended to be an extremely straightforward transaction. ‘Because I don’t have the time to find a more suitable and willing woman—’

‘Wow, thanks.’ The words burst out of her, full of hurt bitterness.

‘And,’ he continued implacably, ‘I need an heir as soon as possible.’

Milly reeled back, hitting the door, her hand fumbling for the knob. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ Alex said. ‘I’m trying to be truthful. It would be foolish for either of us to pretend, even for a moment, that a marriage between us would be anything more than a business arrangement, one involving courtesy and respect on both sides, of course.’

‘And yet you said an heir...’

‘This would not be a marriage in name only, obviously.’ He still spoke calmly, but images danced through his mind all the same. Skin burnished gold by candlelight, light brown hair loose on bare, freckled shoulders. Absurd, because their marriage would never be like that, and he didn’t even know if she had freckles.

‘Obviously...’ Milly repeated faintly, still looking stunned.

‘And time is rather of the essence, although we can discuss the particulars—assuming you are agreeable.’

‘Agreeable—’ The word came out in a squeak. He’d shocked her, clearly, and she hadn’t even seen his face yet. The thought almost made Alex laugh, except he hadn’t actually found anything funny in months. Twenty-two months, to be precise. ‘Kyrie Santos,’ she said firmly, once she’d recovered her composure. ‘I am not agreeable.’

‘You haven’t even heard the terms.’

‘I don’t need to hear the terms. I’m not in the habit of selling myself.’

‘We’d be married,’ Alex pointed out reasonably. ‘It would hardly be classified as that.’

‘It would be to me.’ She shook her head, a shudder running through her whole body, a visceral reaction of something close to disgust, which caught him on the raw. She hadn’t even seen him yet. ‘I’m sorry, but no. Never.’ She spoke with such vehemence that he was intrigued as well as irritated. It was exceedingly inconvenient for her to refuse.

‘You almost sound as if you’ve had such an offer before,’ he remarked. ‘The way you’re reacting, as if you’re remembering something offensive. As if my proposition recalls another.’

‘Of course it doesn’t!’

‘Of course?’ he queried, arching an eyebrow, the one she could see.

‘Most men are not in the habit of making such propositions,’ Milly said in that same chilly voice of maidenly affront. She donned that voice like a dress—something that could be taken off as needed, a bit of flimsy armour. It made him wonder what she was protecting underneath.

‘Aren’t they?’ he queried. ‘Most marriages are business deals of some kind, Miss James. A negotiation of sorts, no matter what emotional underpinnings they possess.’

‘And yet our marriage would have no emotional underpinning,’ she returned. ‘I don’t even know you. I’ve never met you before today.’

‘That is not out of the ordinary, for situations such as this.’

‘What makes you think I want to get married?’

‘Nothing. Like I said, this would be a business arrangement. And the financial stability is what I think you will find attractive about this proposition.’ He let out a huff of laughter. ‘Nothing else.’

She stayed silent, and Alex turned slightly, wanting to see her face, able to make it out in the dim room only a little. Her eyes were wide, her lips pressed together.

She looked uneasy, but she also looked...torn. Her hand had slipped from the doorknob, and now her fingers were knotted together. As he gazed at her, she nibbled her lip, her eyes darting this way and that. She looked, he realised, as if part of her was tempted or at least intrigued by his offer, but she didn’t want to admit it.

‘Financial stability,’ she finally said. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I would make marriage worth your while.’ He waited, to see if she asked more, but she shook her head.

‘Now that sounds like selling myself, and to a stranger. I think any marriage should have some kind of emotional foundation, if not love.’

He cocked his head. ‘You almost sound cynical.’

‘Cynical—?’

‘As if you don’t really believe what you’re saying,’ he clarified. ‘You want to, but you don’t.’

‘What I believe or don’t believe is of no concern to you, and of no relevance to this conversation,’ she returned sharply. ‘The answer is still no.’

‘Why?’ Alex asked, letting his voice loosen into a lazy drawl. ‘Out of interest?’

‘Why?’ She looked and sounded incredulous, but also up against a wall. Figuratively as well as literally, her back pressed to the door, her chest heaving so he could see the rise and fall of her small breasts. A few wisps of light brown hair had escaped from her normally neat ponytail, framing her heart-shaped face. She was, he decided with some surprise, quite lovely. When he’d made the decision to marry her, her looks had not been part of the equation. She was convenient, suitable, and her lowly position meant he would be able to manage her. That was all he required.

‘Yes, why?’ he reiterated. ‘Why are you not willing even to consider my offer? Not even a single question as to the nature of our arrangement?’

‘You’ve already made the nature quite clear—’

‘You mean sex?’

‘Well, yes,’ she nearly spluttered.

‘You object to having sex with your husband?’

‘I object to marrying someone I don’t feel anything for, someone I don’t even know—’

‘Yet people have been doing that for centuries. Millennia.’

‘Even so...’

‘You told me you weren’t interested in romance.’

‘Not at this point in my life, no.’

‘Or perhaps ever, I believe your words were. So...?’

‘That doesn’t mean I want to marry you.’ She sounded exasperated now. Alex allowed himself a cold little smile.

‘Would five million euros change your thinking?’

Her mouth opened. Closed. And then again. Her eyes wide and as brown and soft as pansies. ‘That’s a lot of money,’ she finally said, her voice faint.

‘Indeed.’ He cocked his head. ‘Would you like to hear the particulars now?’

She bit her lip. ‘You think I’ll change my mind simply because of money? That’s insulting.’

‘Financial stability,’ he reminded her. ‘It’s a powerful incentive.’

‘I’m not some gold-digger.’ The words burst out of her, like an old wound breaking open. Alex wondered at it.

‘I know you’re not.’

‘I won’t sell myself.’

‘So you keep saying, but to think of it that way is distasteful. We are talking marriage, remember. Not being a mistress.’

‘Yet it’s true nevertheless.’

‘Not necessarily. It’s a deal, Miss James. We both get something out of it.’

She shook her head slowly, her eyes still wide. ‘Considering the nature of our conversation, perhaps you should call me Milly.’

Victory loomed closer, elusive but possible. Probable, even. She hadn’t stormed out of the room. She hadn’t slapped his face. She hadn’t seen it, either. They would get to that all in good time. ‘Very well, Milly. Why don’t you take a seat?’

‘All right.’ Milly walked with careful, deliberate steps to one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk and sank into it, ankles neatly crossed, hands linked at her waist like a respectable matron. ‘Can we turn the light on?’ she asked. ‘I can barely make you out, and I’ve never actually seen you in person, which seems ridiculous considering the nature of our discussion.’

He tensed, and then made himself relax. ‘I’m averse to light.’

‘You’re not a vampire, are you?’ It was obviously a joke, but she still sounded uncertain.

‘No, most certainly not.’ He turned to face her, angling his head in a way he knew would hide the worst. ‘I’ll turn it on in a moment, perhaps, after we’ve discussed some of the details.’

‘Why me?’ Milly asked bluntly. ‘Why not someone far more suitable?’

‘Because you’re here,’ Alex answered just as bluntly. ‘And you’re happy to remain on this island. And in the six months you’ve been in my employ, you’ve seemed trustworthy and hardworking, or so my man here, Yiannis, tells me.’

‘Yiannis has been reporting on me?’

‘Merely relaying his approval of you.’

‘Oh.’ She sounded surprised. ‘He and his wife are very kind. They’ve been welcoming to me.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he returned smoothly. It was all seeming very promising. She clearly liked living here, and she wanted the money. All that remained was whether she could stomach looking at him—and sharing his bed.

‘And those are your only qualifications for a wife?’ Milly asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Really?’ She sounded cynical again. ‘You don’t care about your wife’s likes or dislikes? Her sense of humour, or her sense of honour? What about what kind of mother she’ll be?’

Alex’s mouth compressed. ‘I don’t have the luxury to care about those things.’ Ezio’s latest escapade had provoked a knee-jerk reaction in him to sort this, and quickly.

Milly was silent, and Alex watched her, noticing the emotions that crossed her face like ripples in water. Indecision, fear, but something else, as well. Something darker...guilt, perhaps, or grief. His proposition had struck a painful chord inside her. He was almost certain of it. ‘And why an heir?’ she asked at last. ‘Isn’t that rather an outdated concept?’

‘It’s a biological one.’

‘Still.’

‘I want to pass my business on to my child.’

‘A son?’

‘Or a daughter. It doesn’t matter.’

She cocked her head, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make him out. ‘Why?’

‘Because if I don’t,’ Alex answered tersely, ‘it passes to my stepbrother, who is likely to run it into the ground in a matter of months.’

‘It’s not like an aristocratic title, is it? Why should it pass to him?’

He drew a quick breath, forcing himself to relax as the memories bombarded him. Christos, looking so pale and weak, one claw-like hand extended towards him. Begging him. And Ezio, drunk in some nightclub, not even bothering to show up, to say goodbye to his flesh-and-blood father. ‘Because my stepfather stipulated it in his will. The business was originally his, and he bequeathed it to me when he died. But he made a provision that if I should die without issue, it passes to my stepbrother.’

‘That all sounds rather archaic.’

Alex inclined his head. ‘Family ties are strong in this country.’

‘Yet it’s your stepfather,’ Milly pointed out. ‘This isn’t about flesh and blood.’

‘He was a father to me more than any other man was,’ Alex answered gruffly. Emotion clutched at his throat, made it hard to speak. ‘And the will is watertight. This is my only option.’

‘What about adoption? Surrogacy?’

‘As I said, time is of the essence. I’m thirty-six, and I want my child to be an adult when I pass the business on. Also, I believe a child should have a mother as well as a father. Family is important to me.’ The words ignited a blaze of pain inside him, and he snuffed it out quickly. Coldly. The only way he knew how, to keep on living.

‘What if I can’t get pregnant?’ Milly asked baldly. ‘There are no guarantees.’

‘You’d need to have a full medical check before we wed.’ He shrugged one shoulder. ‘The rest is up to God.’

‘Would you want other children?’

He almost laughed at that. He knew she certainly wouldn’t, not once she saw him. ‘No, one will suffice. After that I will leave you alone.’

‘Would I have to live on this island for the rest of my life?’

‘You wouldn’t be a prisoner, if that’s what you are implying.’

‘Would we have any kind of...relationship?’ She spoke the word hesitantly, as if probing a sore tooth.

‘We would treat each other with courteous respect, I should hope.’

‘But beyond that?’

He couldn’t keep from recoiling just a little, just as he knew she would once she saw him. ‘Is that something you want?’

‘I... I don’t know.’ She shook her head, her teeth worrying away at her lower lip. ‘This is all so unexpected. I can’t even think straight.’

‘Yet you are considering it?’

‘I shouldn’t.’ She shook her head, expelling her breath in a gusty sigh. ‘I don’t even know why I am, if just a little. The tiniest bit.’ It came out like a warning.

‘The five million, perhaps.’ He kept his voice light, inviting her to see the humour. To share it with him.

She shot him a look of wry amusement, and something small and warm bloomed inside him, something unexpected. When had he last shared a look with another person, even in the dark? ‘Yes, that might have something to do with it.’

‘I don’t hold it against you.’

‘And so you shouldn’t, since you’re the one who offered it. But perhaps I hold it against myself.’ Her words came out sharply; the moment was broken, that small bit of warmth snuffed out.

Alex watched as Milly rose from the chair, pacing the room, rubbing her hands together as if she were cold. ‘No, this can’t work,’ she muttered, mostly to herself. ‘I can’t let myself, not like—’ She broke off, shaking her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t. I won’t.’ She turned to him resolutely, her look one of both apology and determination. ‘The answer is no, Kyrie Santos,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sorry. I hope this won’t affect our working relationship.’

Alex stared at her, refusing to betray his irritation and, yes, his disappointment, with so much as a flicker. And he did feel disappointed—more even than he’d expected. He could find someone else. He knew that. Yet her rejection stung, because that was what it was. It felt personal, even though he knew it shouldn’t. And the laughable part was, he hadn’t even turned the light on.

CHAPTER TWO

MILLY COULDN’T SLEEP. She lay tangled in her sheets, staring at the ceiling as moonlight slanted through the shutters of her window and silvered the tile floor of her bedroom. Since the abrupt ending of her conversation with Alexandro Santos this afternoon, when he’d more or less dismissed her from his study after she’d turned down his proposal, her mind had been reeling as she went over every surreal second of the bizarre interview.

I want you to marry me.

How could he have suggested such a thing? And how could she have been so treacherously tempted, even for a moment?

Milly turned over, thumping her pillow in a futile effort to find peace, or at least comfort. Her mind had not stopped zooming off in a dozen different directions since she’d left Alex; she’d kept herself busy, finishing the moussaka she’d been prepping for supper, sweeping the pool area, and paying a few bills, all the while wondering why he’d asked, what would happen now.

Would everything be awkward? Would he find a reason to fire her? She didn’t want to lose this job. She was making three times as much money as she had been translating business documents back in Paris, and she liked the spacious villa with its beautiful flower-filled garden, the infinity pool, Yiannis and his wife, Marina, stopping by on occasion, the friendly village of Halki a short distance away.

She liked shopping among the quaint market stalls, a wicker basket looped over her arm as she examined lumps of feta cheese floating in brine, plump, red tomatoes, juicy olives.

She liked the little café with its rickety tables overlooking a dusty square where she sometimes sat and had a coffee after doing her shopping. She liked the quiet, starry evenings, the only sound the distant lapping of the waves. She liked the solitude, and feeling safe. She didn’t want to leave here.

So why had she said no to Alex Santos’ marriage proposal?

With a groan of frustration Milly rose from her bed. She wouldn’t sleep now. She slipped on her thin dressing gown and padded softly downstairs to the living area, opening the French windows as quietly as she could. Alex’s bedroom was in the other wing of the house, one she only visited to clean, but she definitely did not want to disturb him now.

Outside the air was pleasantly cool, scented with bougainvillea and orange blossom. Moonlight glinted off the placid surface of the pool, giving it a ghostly feel. Milly wandered over to a wooden chaise and curled up on it, drawing her knees to her chest as she gazed out at the moonlit gardens. She let out a gusty sigh, tension that had been knotting her shoulders since Alex had said stay easing just a little.

She loved the peaceful solitude of this place—after a lifetime of the party or boarding-school scene, the quiet of her own company was a soothing balm, and the villa felt like a home, the first real one she’d ever had.

Five million euros. She couldn’t stop thinking about it, about what she could do with that money. Pay for Anna’s school fees. Pay for her university, buy her a house, keep her safe for ever. Money might not buy happiness, but it certainly helped...and the thought of finally having financial security, for her and for the one person she loved...well, after a lifetime of chaotic uncertainty, it was tempting indeed.

And so what if she married a man she barely knew? In her life, romantic love had been at best a joke, at worst a lie. She’d seen both her parents fall in and out of it with devastating ease, and her own brush with it had left her feeling more jaded than ever, still cringing in shame.

She didn’t want that kind of relationship. She wouldn’t take that kind of risk. At least Alex was honest about his feelings. That was more than she could say for Philippe.

So why not marry someone for the practical reasons? Alex’s mention of an heir had sent a surprising ache of longing through her. A child of her own...someone to love, who couldn’t be taken away from her. Family. She hadn’t realised she was maternal in that way until Alex had spoken of it, but now, her knees tucked to her chest, she could almost imagine a baby nestled in her arms, the kiss she’d drop on its soft forehead. She’d be such a better mother than her own.

A sound from the house had Milly stilling, and then pressing against the back of the chaise, trying to make herself invisible. From the corner of her eye she saw Alex Santos make his way to the pool; he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and moonlight bathed the sculpted muscles of his chest in lambent silver, making her realise just how impressive they were.

Milly’s gaze rose from his chest to his face and as if he could sense, not just her presence, but her stare, he angled his head away from her, his body going still.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ His voice was husky, somehow sensual, winding around her in the sultry darkness. Milly’s arms clenched around her knees.

‘How did you know I was here?’

‘You left the doors open, and I have good eyesight.’ He moved closer to her chaise, the fabric of his pyjama bottoms whispering together as he moved, the muscles of his chest rippling as the moonlight caught them. When he was only a few feet away, his body still swathed in darkness and his face angled away, he spoke again. ‘So why can’t you sleep, Milly?’ He lingered on her name. ‘Were you thinking about my offer?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted, because it seemed obvious. ‘How could I not be thinking about it? It’s the only marriage proposal I’ve ever received.’

‘I’m sorry it wasn’t more romantic,’ he returned dryly. ‘But I’m sure there will be others...that is, if you don’t reconsider...?’ He trailed off deliberately, and Milly swallowed hard.

‘I shouldn’t reconsider...’

‘But you are.’

He sounded so certain, and why wouldn’t he be? A handsome, powerful, wealthy man. And she was a plain little nobody. He’d probably expected her to jump at the chance. ‘It’s a lot of money,’ Milly said on a shuddery sigh. ‘And it would make a difference to me...and to someone I love.’

‘Ah. Perhaps the most powerful reason of all.’ Alex settled on the chaise opposite her, his face turned away, his gaze on the pool. ‘And who is this person you love?’

‘My sister. Well, stepsister, but she’s as good as a sister to me. Better. The most important person in the world, the only person...’ Milly’s throat closed up at the thought of Anna and she blinked hard. ‘I’d do anything for her.’

‘Except marry me?’

‘That’s why I’m thinking about it.’

‘It wouldn’t have to be such torture, you know,’ Alex said after a moment. ‘I wouldn’t bother you any more than I had to.’

Bother her? Was that really how he saw their potential relationship? And yet Milly felt reassured that her life wouldn’t have to change too much.

‘Most people want more from their marriage than that,’ she said after a moment, and Alex arched an eyebrow.

‘Most people,’ he acknowledged, ‘but not you, I think.’ He turned so he could look her in the eye, although the darkness still hid much of his face. ‘Am I wrong?’

Milly swallowed again, her throat dry as she struggled for words. ‘I haven’t thought about it all that much,’ she hedged. ‘I haven’t...’ She trailed off, her gaze on the silvery surface of the pool. ‘I haven’t had much experience,’ she stated at last, determined to be frank. ‘Of romance or romantic love. That kind of thing. And the experience I’ve had has put me off.’

‘So here is the ideal solution.’

‘Why don’t you want romance or love in a marriage?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘I assume that’s the reason for your business proposal?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t see the point of it.’

‘Of romance?’

‘Or of love.’ He paused. ‘That kind of love. And neither, I think, do you.’

It was unsettling, how he seemed to reach right into her mind and pluck out her thoughts. What could he see in her face, even out here in the dark? What was she revealing without realising?

‘I’ve seen it abused,’ she answered at last, her tone careful. ‘And I suppose I don’t trust it very much. I’m not willing to take that kind of risk.’

‘Good. Then I think we’d be an excellent match.’

She shook her head, an instinctive movement. ‘It’s not that simple...’

‘Of course not. We can iron out the details as soon as you’ve agreed. I’m a reasonable man, Milly.’

The way he said her name made her shiver, although perhaps it was simply the cooling night air. ‘None of this seems particularly reasonable, you know. We’re talking about marriage. Having a child together...’

‘It’s eminently reasonable. Love is the outrageous thing, the ridiculous emotion that’s meant to drive all our reason and ambition when it’s so flimsy and ephemeral. The whole concept is absurd, insanity. Why would you trust your life to a fleeting feeling?’

‘Yet people do.’

‘But you’re smarter than that, aren’t you? As am I.’

She almost laughed at his arrogance, except she knew he was right. She was smarter than that. She’d wised up. ‘See?’ He smiled at her, the corner of his mouth curving upwards, his eyes—at least the one she could see—gleaming. ‘We’re a perfect match.’

‘I haven’t even seen your face,’ Milly blurted, and although he didn’t move, it felt as if he had. As if he’d gone even more still than he already was, every muscle taut and waiting, put on alert. ‘Properly, I mean,’ Milly clarified. ‘We’ve only spoken in the dark. It’s a bit...odd, you know. Clearly you’re a private man, but...’ Shouldn’t she at least see the man she might marry?

‘Yes, I am.’ Alex was silent for a few seconds, seeming to draw into himself. ‘Well, there is a reason for the dark.’

Milly gazed at him in confusion, squinting to make out his expression but it remained shadowed, unfathomable. ‘Is there?’

‘Yes, there is, but you might as well know it now. See what you might be agreeing to.’ He walked quickly back to the French windows and in one quick movement he flicked on the outdoor lights. The terrace was bathed in a bright electric glow, and Milly blinked in the brilliance. Then Alex turned to face her, and a gasp rushed from her throat.

His face...

One side of his mouth quirked upwards. ‘Perhaps now you understand a bit more of my reasoning for a convenient marriage?’

Milly sat transfixed, unsure whether to look away or keep staring. Would that be insulting? Unkind? In any case, she found she couldn’t move her gaze. What had happened to him, since the photos she’d seen on the Internet had been taken?

‘It’s a shock, I know.’ Alex spoke dispassionately, as if he didn’t much care that half his face was ravaged in pink and white scar tissue, while the other half was entirely perfect, the coldly handsome man she recognised from his photos, made even more so by the damage on the other side. It was like looking in a cracked mirror, half crystal clear, half warped and broken.

‘How...?’

‘Fire.’ The single word was clipped, dismissive. Milly knew instinctively he wouldn’t say more, and she wouldn’t ask. ‘It puts off many a prospective bride, or so I imagine. I haven’t deigned to find out. Perhaps it puts you off.’

‘Your scars would have nothing to do with whether I agreed or not,’ Milly said when she’d found her voice, but she feared she didn’t sound convincing. It was just she was so shocked. Even with his insistence on privacy, the rooms shrouded in darkness, she hadn’t suspected. Never guessed.

There hadn’t been a whisper about it online, or even in the village, where most people knew him, or at least of him. Yiannis and Marina hadn’t said a word.

‘Very well, then.’ Alex straightened where he stood, levelling her with a look. ‘Will you marry me?’

* * *

Alex knew he should have given her time to adjust to the reality of his scars, but he felt too raw. He hated being looked at, despised the flicker of pity that inevitably crossed every person’s face when they saw him in the light. So he made sure very few people did.

In the nearly two years since the fire, only a few trusted business advisors and staff had been able to look him in the eye. He didn’t give anyone else the chance, not if he could help it. He entered his office from a private entrance, and, while there, he rarely left. Everything he could do from his office by phone or email, he did, and when he wasn’t doing business he was keeping to himself, either in Athens or here, travelling by private jet or yacht to avoid the inevitable whispers and stares.

He had a few trusted staff who had seen his face and wouldn’t talk, but he’d never had many friends and so he had even fewer now. As for lovers? What a joke. All in all, it was a lonely life, but it was the only one he could bear to live.

And yet he’d known this moment would come, when the woman who would be his wife would look on his face and shudder. He hated it with an intensity that made his fists clench before he made the choice, very deliberately, to flatten them out. He would not be that kind of man. Not like his father. It was a choice he made every day, deliberately, calmly, because he had to.

‘I... I have to think,’ Milly stammered, her gaze still tellingly transfixed by the scars that crisscrossed his entire right cheek, starting in his hairline and coming down to the corner of his mouth and quirking his lip upwards in a horrible half-smile he couldn’t ever change. There were other scars too, ones she might not have noticed yet, cording the side of his neck and making a patchwork of white lines across his shoulder. ‘It’s such a big step...’

‘Well, don’t think too long,’ Alex returned in a deliberate drawl, making sure to keep her gaze even though everything in him demanded he turn away. Hide. ‘Because if you refuse, I’ll have to ask someone else, and as quickly as possible.’

‘Do you have an alternative?’ She sounded more curious than offended—or relieved.

He didn’t, not yet, but he just shrugged. ‘I have some possibilities.’ None of the women of his acquaintance would agree to marry him looking like this, and he wouldn’t want them anyway. Shallow, vapid creatures, caring only for appearances and wealth, and he had only one of those attributes.

No, he realised he wanted her, because she seemed sensible and trustworthy, and he had a feeling they could get along tolerably well, which was all he could ask for. All he would ever let himself want.

‘Why me, though?’ Milly pressed.

Looking at her, Alex knew he was fooling himself if he thought he wanted her just for those modest qualities. No, there was more to it than that. He wanted her, wanted her in the way a man wanted a woman. Desire was dangerous and foolish, and it made him feel exposed in a way he hated.

‘You’re here. You’re suitable. You need the money.’ He bit each word off and spat it out. She flinched a little, but then she nodded.

‘At least you’re honest. I...appreciate that.’ She sighed, turning away from him to stare out at the water. ‘I love it here,’ she said softly, and he tensed.

‘That’s a good beginning.’

‘Is it? It doesn’t seem nearly enough.’

‘But if you don’t want love in your marriage, why not this?’

‘I feel as if I’m signing my life away.’

‘You’d have every freedom.’

‘Except the freedom to marry someone else.’

‘True.’ He paused. ‘I would not countenance divorce. A child needs both parents.’

‘Nor would I,’ Milly returned sharply, with more force than even his tone had possessed. ‘My parents are on their third and fourth marriages. I would never get divorced.’

Alex inclined his head. ‘Yet another point upon which we agree.’

‘I still don’t know you. I don’t know if you’re kind, or trustworthy, or good.’ Her voice throbbed with emotion. ‘Shouldn’t I know those things?’

Yes, of course she should, and he knew he couldn’t promise her any of it. He wasn’t kind. He hadn’t been trustworthy. As for good... ‘I suppose you’ll have to take my word for it.’

‘And if we marry, and I discover your word is worthless? You...mistreat me...or lock me away...’

‘Mistreat you?’ He couldn’t keep the offence from his tone, or a deep-seated conviction from shuddering through him. It was as if she were looking into his soul, and yet not seeing anything at all. ‘I would never hurt a woman.’ He’d never meant anything more, and yet she still seemed uncertain as she turned back to face him.

‘I don’t want to think you could do something like that, of course, but I don’t know you, Alex. I don’t know you at all.’

‘Then ask me,’ he bit out. ‘Ask me whatever you want.’ He stood there, bracing himself for whatever questions she fired at him, but she remained silent, gazing at him in helpless frustration.

‘You make it sound like a job interview.’

‘Of a sort.’

Another sigh and she nibbled her lip as she started to shake her head. He could feel her slipping away from him, like an ebbing tide. The scars had tilted the odds against him. Of course they had.

‘I just don’t think I can do this,’ she said softly, her gaze sliding away from his. Her shoulders hunched; she looked guilty. ‘I watched my mother marry for money, time and time again, and the results were disastrous...for her as well as for me and my sister. I can’t be like her in that way. I won’t let myself.’ She paused, her shoulders hunched, her gaze averted as if she couldn’t bear to look him in the face. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Really, there is no need to apologise,’ Alex returned stiffly. He wasn’t going to argue with her; he certainly wasn’t going to beg. ‘Consider the matter closed,’ he said, and then he turned and walked back inside the villa, staring blindly ahead all the while.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN MILLY AWOKE the next morning, she knew Alex had gone. It was only a little past six, lemony sunshine banishing the last of the pearly grey light of dawn, but she knew all the same. She could almost hear the echo of the whirr of the helicopter blades signifying his departure; perhaps that was what had woken her up.

Quietly she slid out of bed and went to the window, opening the shutters fully to take in the breathtaking view of sun and sand, sea and sky. The blue-green waters of the Aegean Sea shimmered under the azure perfection of another summer’s day. Inside Milly felt strangely hollow.

As soon as Alex had walked back into the villa last night, his body and gait both stiff with dignity and affront, Milly had questioned her decision—and not just because of the money. Yes, she could use the money, especially for Anna’s sake, but what if this was the only marriage proposal she ever received? More importantly, what if it was the best?

As Alex had sussed out, she was cynical and wary of such fanciful feelings as love and romance. If her parents hadn’t put her off, her dalliance with Philippe certainly had.

Even now she could remember the mocking twist of his lips as he’d gazed at her. ‘Do you honestly think I’d fall for a little mouse like you?’

No, she wasn’t going to go down that route again. So why not this? She wouldn’t get duped or hurt, and she’d have financial stability, companionship of a sort, and even a child. After the financial and emotional turbulence of her entire childhood, who was she to scoff at those things?

Standing at the window, letting the sunlight stream over her, she wondered why she’d refused—even as she acknowledged why. Because her mother had married for money rather than love, and she never, ever wanted to be like her mother.

But this would be different, a little voice inside her persisted.

Would it? Another insidious voice mocked back. Would it really?

Turning away from the window, Milly went to shower and dress. She had a full day of housework ahead of her, and she needed to stop thinking for a little while. Blot out all the what-ifs and just be. Still, she wondered when Alex would return...and what it would be like when he did.

The house felt emptier than usual as she went about her work, sweeping and mopping and dusting. She put off doing the inevitable—cleaning Alex’s bedroom, stripping the bed and washing his sheets. It had felt like any other room just days before, but now it was different. Perhaps she was.

After a solitary lunch reading at the kitchen table, she decided to put it off no longer, and in truth she was curious. Upstairs, down a separate corridor that held only his master suite and two guest bedrooms, she tiptoed towards his door, holding her breath, half expecting someone to pop out, something to happen. Of course, nothing did.

Milly pushed open his bedroom door and then stepped into the sparsely furnished room—a king-sized bed on a low dais with rumpled sheets and duvet, the indentation where his head had lain still visible on his pillow. There were no ornaments or knick-knacks, no photos or mementoes. There never had been, in her six months there.

The room was luxurious and as impersonal as could be, like something found in a high-end hotel. Milly began to strip the bed, her methodical movements belying the sudden thud of her heart, her dry mouth. Why was she being affected this way?

Unthinkingly she slipped off the pillowcase he’d used and pressed it to her face, inhaling an unfamiliar musky and very male scent. She was still holding it when her mobile phone began to vibrate, and she jumped like a scalded cat, dropping the pillowcase.

Her hands near to shaking, Milly slid her phone from the pocket of her jeans and glanced down at the screen. Anna. All thoughts of pillowcases and the head that had lain on them vanished as she swiped to take the call.

‘Anna? Are you okay?’ As ever Milly couldn’t keep the anxiety from her voice as soon as she spoke with her sister. Her situation was so precarious, and she was so very young.

‘I’m fine, Milly.’ Anna’s voice was quiet, a little sad. Milly knew she hated living with her father, Milly’s stepfather—one of them, anyway—and Milly couldn’t blame her. The situation was dire, and there was nothing she’d been able to do about it. Carlos Bentano kept custody of his only child more out of a cruel whim than any love or affection on his part.

‘Good.’ Milly walked away from Alex’s bed, gazing out at the sparkling sea. ‘I was hoping you could come visit here at the end of the summer,’ she said, trying to inject a positive note into her voice, as if what she was suggesting could really happen. ‘For a few weeks at least...’

‘If he lets me,’ Anna said quietly, her voice filled with doubt, and Milly sighed. Carlos Bentano and Milly’s mother had married when she was fourteen and Anna just four. While their parents had been partying up with the last of their money, both penniless, minor aristocrats, Milly had been like a mother to Anna, only to be wrenched away from her four years later, after the inevitable and acrimonious divorce. In the intervening years, her contact with her stepsister had been all too fleeting; she’d seen her once or twice a year, if that, although not for lack of trying.

Carlos was just as likely to turn Milly away at the door of his dilapidated villa on the outskirts of Rome than let her in, and for no reason than it seemed to amuse him to be cruel. Meanwhile he hosted debauched parties, inviting all manner of dissolute reprobates into his home, and paid scant attention to his daughter by an earlier marriage—Anna’s mother had died when she was a baby—and was indifferently negligent of her education. Milly was desperate to get Anna away from him, and five million euros would certainly help...

But she’d said no. She’d turned Alex Santos down, and right now, listening to her sister’s voice wobble as she tried to be brave, Milly could not think why she had been so selfish.

‘Why wouldn’t he let you?’ Milly protested as brightly as she could. ‘It won’t affect him, and he might like having the house to himself for a change.’ But they both knew Carlos didn’t care about that. ‘How are things going, anyway?’ Milly asked. She talked to Anna nearly every day, but, despite these daily conversations and reassurances that she was well, Anna was never able to allay her anxiety, a knot of tension that had lodged itself in her stomach six years ago, when they’d been separated.

‘Okay,’ Anna said on a sigh. ‘He came back from the casino last night in a foul mood.’

‘Oh, Anna...’

‘I stayed out of his way, and he was gone again this morning.’

‘But what do you do?’ Milly protested. She hated the thought of her sister drifting around like a ghost in that crumbling villa all by herself, day after day, but Carlos had already refused to let Anna come to Naxos for the summer.

‘I read. Play music.’ Anna was an accomplished violinist, and Milly loved to hear her play. ‘It’s better when he’s not here. Last week...’ She stopped, and unease ran its chilly finger down Milly’s spine.

‘Last week...?’

‘It doesn’t matter, Milly.’

‘It does. Tell me, Anna, please.’

‘Why?’ Anna’s voice trembled. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’

‘What happened?’ Milly demanded. ‘I need to know.’

‘It’s nothing, really.’ Anna sounded subdued now, which made Milly feel even more alarmed. ‘He had some friends over, and they got drunk. One of them came into my bedroom...’

‘What?’ Horror clogged in her throat and she tasted bile. The thought of some drunken lout in her little sister’s bedroom made her want to run all the way to Rome, as fast as she could. ‘Anna, what happened? Did he...did he try anything?’

‘No, no, he went out again. He apologised, even...’

Milly felt herself breathe a little easier, but she still felt suspicious as well as deeply afraid. She didn’t think Anna was telling her everything, and what if next time the drunken guest wasn’t so accommodating? What if her sister was in more danger than Milly had ever realised or feared? With her honey-blonde hair and big blue eyes, Anna was lovely, and just becoming a woman. She would be irresistible to some of Carlos’ debauched friends.

‘Do you have a lock on your door?’ Milly asked. ‘Because I think you should lock it. Every night.’

‘I’ve put a chair under the knob since then. Really, it’s okay, Milly.’

But it wasn’t at all okay. Milly breathed in deeply, willing herself not to cry. She didn’t want to make Anna feel worse. ‘I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Anna,’ she said softly. ‘This isn’t at all how I hoped your life would be like.’ When she’d been little, Milly had promised to take care of her. Vowed to always protect her. And now she was powerless.

She sent money when she could, and she had a savings account in Anna’s name, but there was so little she could do.

And yet with five million euros you could do so much more. You could bribe Carlos for custody, even...

‘It’s not your fault, Milly,’ Anna said. ‘And actually I was calling for another reason.’ She paused, and Milly steeled herself, hoping there wasn’t more to worry about. ‘A space has opened up at the academy,’ Anna continued hesitantly. ‘I just got the email this morning.’

‘The academy...’ Milly’s mind raced. She knew Anna had been dreaming of going to the prestigious music school in Rome for several years, but there had been no space, and, more importantly, no money. Carlos would never agree to pay for anything, and Milly couldn’t afford the fees, even with her generous salary.

‘That’s wonderful, Anna, but—’

‘I know it’s a lot,’ her stepsister continued in a quiet, intense voice. ‘And you can’t possibly pay it all, but I’ve arranged to give music lessons to some neighbours. It’s not much, but it would help—’

‘Oh, Anna.’ Milly bit her lip. She doubted her sister could make nearly enough teaching violin to make up the difference, but she couldn’t bear to disappoint her and put a stop to her dreams. ‘What does Carlos say?’

‘I haven’t told him, and I don’t plan to. He doesn’t care where I go to school, and he might refuse just because he could. Besides, he doesn’t have the money, and if he did, he certainly wouldn’t spend it on me.’

‘But...’

‘I can forge his signature. I’ve had to before, when he’s forgotten to sign forms and things. I’d leave and return home the same time every day, not that he notices. It could work, Milly. I’m sure of it. It’s just the money...’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Tears pricked Milly’s eyes as she thought of her sister desperately trying to make this dream work, and all on her own strength. She was so young, and yet far too old for her years. Milly couldn’t bear to think of the debauched scenes Anna must witness in her father’s home, when Carlos had his horrible friends over. And when she thought of one of those amoral men looking at Anna, coming into her bedroom...

She had to do something.

‘Thank you, Milly,’ Anna said earnestly. ‘I really appreciate it.’

‘I can’t make any promises,’ Milly felt compelled to warn, even though she wanted to promise Anna everything. ‘Send me an email with the details of the fees, okay? And I’ll try to make the numbers work.’ Although she doubted they would...not unless she had five million euros.

‘All right.’ Anna hesitated. ‘The only thing is, the space won’t be open for ever. The principale said I needed to send my deposit by the end of the week.’

‘The end of the week—’ Milly couldn’t keep the words from coming out in a squeak of dismay.

‘I’m sorry. I never dreamt a space would come up in time for me to start...’

‘Send the email,’ Milly repeated firmly. ‘I’ll look into it this afternoon, and if I can swing the fees, I’ll wire the deposit as soon as possible.’ Although it made her stomach sink to think of it. How would she be able to afford such a thing? And yet she knew she wanted to. Desperately.

How desperately?

That little voice continued with its sly whispers after Milly had ended the call. Desperately enough to marry Alex Santos? That would solve all of Anna’s problems. Do you really want to keep her safe?

Milly scrunched her eyes shut, trying to block out that whisper, but it did no good.

Well, do you? the voice mocked. Do you?

* * *

‘There is a woman here to see you, Kyrie Santos.’

Alex frowned as he listened to the disembodied voice of the receptionist on the intercom. ‘A woman? I have no appointments. You know that.’ His voice was sharp with recrimination. All the staff at his headquarters in Athens knew he didn’t take unscheduled appointments. He didn’t want prying eyes, ever. No one saw him while he was here; he had had a private entrance installed with a lift that went directly to his penthouse office. His door was always closed.

‘Yes, I know, sir...’ The woman sounded apologetic as well as uncertain. ‘But this woman insists...’

‘Insists on seeing me?’ Alex repeated in disbelief. Who on earth could it be? It didn’t matter. ‘Then you can simply tell her I am not—’

‘Insists that she is your fiancée,’ the woman corrected in an embarrassed rush. ‘I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know if...’ She trailed off uncertainly while Alex frowned at his intercom, trying to process what he’d just heard. His fiancée?

Something far too like hope flared in his chest. Milly. It had to be her. She’d changed her mind...and she’d come all the way to Athens to tell him? He was surprised as well as both gratified and curious. ‘Send her in,’ he said gruffly, and then he rose from his chair and stalked to the window, trying to control his wayward emotions.

Since leaving the villa—and Milly—they’d been in a frustrating ferment. He didn’t want to care about her refusal. He didn’t want to feel the rejection, and yet he did. He’d been stewing over it for the better part of two days, telling himself it didn’t matter even though he knew it did.

She was just a housekeeper, after all, and yet he’d wanted her. He’d wanted her to marry him, because rather surprisingly, considering how quick his decision to ask her had been, he realised he wanted her and no other. He desired her with a strength that surprised him; he’d spent the last few nights lying awake imagining his hands on her skin, his mouth... But of course their wedding night, if it happened, would be an exercise in endurance rather than an experience of passion.

With his gaze on the window and his back to his office, he heard the door open and then click softly shut, followed by a quick shudder of breath that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. She sounded as if she were steeling herself, and she probably was. He knew from experience it didn’t get any easier to look at him. Every time he glanced in the mirror it was a shock.

‘Kyrie Santos,’ she said quietly.

‘Alex,’ he reminded her. He didn’t turn from the window; no need to remind her of his scars. She was undoubtedly thinking of them already.

A heavy silence ticked on for several taut moments. ‘I’ve...reconsidered your offer,’ Milly finally said, her voice matter-of-fact and determined. ‘If it’s still open.’

Alex’s gaze rested on the skyscrapers of Syntagma Square, his heart thudding hard even as he kept his voice measured, almost toneless. ‘It is.’

‘Then I’m here to say I will marry you... Alex.’ Her voice held a tremor of emotion, perhaps fear. Was she scared of him? Or just repulsed by his scars? Maybe both, and for good reason. He hadn’t given her any real reason to respond otherwise.

‘Why have you changed your mind?’ he asked. ‘As a matter of interest?’

She took a quick, telling breath. ‘I had more time to think about it.’

‘And what did you conclude?’ He couldn’t keep a sardonic note of cynicism from entering his voice.

‘That five million euros is a very good deal,’ Milly answered after a moment, her voice ragged with honesty. ‘And it will help my sister immeasurably.’

She sounded resigned—resigned to her fate, to him. She was signing her death warrant, and why? For the sake of her sister, of course. There was no other reason. He would be something she had to endure to get what she wanted. Had he ever expected anything else? Of course he hadn’t. That was the deal he’d offered. That was what they were both getting. There was no reason to feel stung by it now. No reason at all.

‘Very well,’ Alex replied coolly. ‘Then I will have the prenuptial contract drawn up immediately. Once you’ve signed it, we can be married immediately.’

‘Immediately...’ She sounded a little dazed by the prospect.

‘There is no time to waste. I told you I wanted an heir. I’ll arrange for you to have a medical examination tomorrow morning.’ He heard her gasp but he didn’t care. So what if he’d been blunt, even crude? It was the truth.

‘But...but there’s still so much to discuss...’

‘Such as?’

He heard her swallow, and in his mind’s eye he could picture the working of her pale, slender throat, see the widening of those pansy-brown eyes, the rise and fall of her chest. ‘Lots of things. How it’s going to work, mainly, and...and what precautions will be in place...?’

‘Precautions?’ The word came out sharp.

‘I’m putting my life in your hands,’ Milly retorted, her voice just as sharp as his. ‘I need guarantees, Alex. Safeguards...’

‘Very well. Then I’ll put those in place.’

‘Can’t you turn and look at me?’ she burst out, sounding both exasperated and emotional. ‘I hate having a conversation with your back.’

He pressed his lips together, biting back the instinctive reply. I didn’t think you wanted to look at me. He wouldn’t lower himself by saying such a thing. Instead he turned around to face her, schooling his face into an expression of bored disdain.

‘Here you are. And here I am.’

‘Yes.’ She gazed at him steadily, and he saw her gulp, her gaze darting to his scars and then back again. Her face was pale, her eyes huge. ‘So now what?’

‘Now we discuss the terms. The safeguards you mentioned.’ He strode from the window and sat in one of the leather club chairs in front of his desk, gesturing for her to take a seat in the other. ‘Shall we?’

‘All right.’ Milly walked over to the chair and sat in it.

Just two days ago they’d been in his study at the villa, talking about terms in theory. And here they were again, talking about them in reality. Everything had changed because she had agreed to become his wife. They would be married. He did not feel as triumphant as he’d thought he would...especially as Milly’s gaze moved over his face, sliding away from the scarred side, and her fingers trembled before she knotted them together in her lap. ‘So...?’ Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you suggest?’

‘I suggest we marry immediately,’ he answered with a shrug, purposely keeping his tone clipped, almost bored. ‘As I said before. I can have the prenuptial contract drawn up by tomorrow, and we can be married the day after. I will have the marriage licence rushed.’

Milly squared her shoulders. ‘And what would the prenuptial agreement state?’

‘That you will receive five million euros, which will be repayable to me should we divorce.’

‘Repayable?’ She blinked. ‘That’s harsh. What if you divorce me?’

‘I won’t. But, to address any worries you might have on that score, I will have it put into the contract that you will be given an additional five million euros should I wish to divorce you.’

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