A merciless groom

A not-so-convenient bride

Scarred by his dark past, Damen Alexopoulos does not let emotion dictate anything—especially his choice of wife. So when his convenient society bride is switched at the altar for her innocent younger sister, Kassiani Dukas, Damen is adamant their marriage will remain strictly business. He’s too damaged for anything more. Yet Kassiani’s determination to know him—and the intense passion of their Greek Island honeymoon—could be this ruthless Greek’s undoing!

Meet the Greek billionaire and his replacement bride!

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author JANE PORTER has written forty romances and eleven women’s fiction novels since her first sale to Mills & Boon in 2000. A five-time RITA® Award finalist, Jane is known for her passionate, emotional and sensual novels, and loves nothing more than alpha heroes, exotic locations and happy-ever-afters. Today Jane lives in sunny San Clemente, California, with her surfer husband and three sons. Visit janeporter.com.

Also by Jane Porter

A Dark Sicilian Secret

Not Fit for a King?

His Majesty’s Mistake

Bought to Carry His Heir

His Merciless Marriage Bargain

The Prince’s Scandalous Wedding Vow

The Disgraced Copelands miniseries

The Fallen Greek Bride

His Defiant Desert Queen

Her Sinful Secret

Stolen Brides collection

Kidnapped for His Royal Duty

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

His Shock Marriage in Greece

Jane Porter

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08795-7

HIS SHOCK MARRIAGE IN GREECE

© 2019 Jane Porter

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

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

KASSIANI DUKAS TRIED to sit very still on the white slip-covered upholstered sofa in the corner of the expansive villa’s living room, not wanting to draw attention to herself as it would only lead to trouble.

She’d done nothing wrong but her father was furious and the last thing she wanted was him to turn on her.

Things were bad, though. Elexis was gone. Kassiani’s older sister was to marry Damen Alexopoulos tomorrow but Elexis had mysteriously disappeared in the night, managing to sneak away from the estate on the Athenian Riviera before flying out of Athens with friends more than willing to whisk her away from a wedding—and marriage—she’d never wanted.

And now her father was about to break the news to her groom, powerful Greek shipping tycoon Damen Alexopoulos, a man everyone knew to be brilliant, ambitious and dangerous if crossed.

He’d just been crossed.

She shuddered as her father, Kristopher, paced the gleaming marble floor, hands knotted behind his back, his complexion ashen. Nothing good would come of Elexis’s disappearance.

Footsteps rang in the hall. Kassiani sat taller on the corner sofa. Kristopher stopped his frenetic pacing.

Damen Alexopoulos entered the villa’s living room, stealing Kassiani’s breath. She’d seen him before, on the night of Elexis’s engagement, but she hadn’t actually talked to him. It had been a party for others—very public, very extravagant with Elexis and Damen spending maybe just thirty minutes together—before he’d flown out, returning to Greece. He wasn’t classically handsome, but he had piercing hazel eyes, strong, arresting features and a full, firm mouth that fascinated her. He was also taller than she remembered, and broader through the shoulders, with a muscular chest and narrow waist and long lean legs.

Kass had never understood why Elexis hadn’t found him attractive, because as Greek men went, he was truly a remarkable specimen, but then her sister tended to prefer the up-and-coming models and actors who fawned all over her, each of those young, pretty males hoping to benefit from her wealth and fame.

“I was told you wanted to see me,” Damen said, his voice deep with a hint of a rasp that made the fine hair on Kassiani’s nape rise while her insides did a peculiar quiver.

“Good morning, Damen,” her father said with forced cheer. “It’s a beautiful morning here in Sousin.”

A small muscle pulled in Damen’s hard jaw. Kassiani could tell he found her father annoying. That didn’t bode well for what was to come.

“It is always beautiful here,” Damen answered. “But I ended an important meeting to see you, having been told there was an emergency.”

Irritation and impatience made the rasp in his voice more pronounced, and his English more accented. It was clear he hadn’t learned English as a boy. Or at least, he hadn’t become fluent as a boy.

“An emergency? No,” Kristopher replied, smiling. “I wouldn’t call it that. I’m sorry you had to rush here, worrying.”

The muscle in Damen’s jaw worked again. It was clear he was fighting to hang on to his temper. “I don’t worry, and I don’t rush. But I am now here. Why was I summoned?”

Kassiani drew back in the corner of the sofa, as if she could make herself smaller. Not easy as she was a big girl...not tall like her sister, but rather, big boned, with even bigger curves—hips, breasts and the sort of generous backside that was fashionable if paired with a tiny waist. But Kassiani’s waist wasn’t spectacularly tiny. Her stomach wasn’t flat. Her thighs touched. Unlike her older sister, Kassiani didn’t have an Instagram account. She didn’t take selfies. She avoided photos at all cost.

Unlike stunning, photogenic Elexis, Kass didn’t photograph well. Nor was she part of high society’s inner circle. She didn’t travel on private jet planes, or party in Las Vegas, the Caribbean or Mediterranean.

If her last name hadn’t been Dukas, she would have been incredibly ordinary. If her father wasn’t one of the richest Greeks in America, she would have been forgotten. Invisible.

Over the years Kass had come to wish she really was invisible as invisible was far better than being visible and pitied. Visible and scorned. Visible and rejected. And not just rejected by superficial socialites and quasi-celebrities, but rejected by your own family.

Her father had never shown the least bit of interest in her, and why should he when he had everything he needed in his son and heir, Barnabas, and beautiful Elexis, who’d charmed him from birth with her big dark eyes and winsome pout?

Kass had never been a charming child. Family lore depicted her as silent and sullen, and impossibly stubborn. She reportedly scowled at guests, refusing to make small talk with her father’s important guests. She wouldn’t play the piano or sing, or bat her eyelashes at the visiting Greek dignitaries. Instead, Kass wanted to discuss politics with her father’s friends. Even at four and five she was fascinated by economics. She’d make predictions about the future of the shipping industry, and her audacity horrified her father. It didn’t matter that she read beyond her years. It didn’t matter that she excelled in math. Good Greek girls didn’t weigh in on national matters, or international policies and economics. Good Greek girls grew up and made good marriages with suitable Greek men and produced the next generation. That was their responsibility. That was their value. Nothing else.

It wasn’t long before Kassiani wasn’t included in the family parties. She wasn’t asked to dress up and come downstairs. She wasn’t invited to the dinners and weddings and reunions. She became the forgotten Dukas.

“I appreciate you coming straightaway,” Kristopher said, still smiling, but less broadly. “I hate disturbing you but we have a problem.”

Kassiani’s father was a shipping tycoon like Damen, but Greek American, having been born and raised in San Francisco. She knew he was nervous, but his voice didn’t betray it. If anything, he sounded positive and optimistic. She was glad. One couldn’t ever betray fear in contract negotiations, and the merger of Dukas Shipping with the Alexopoulos empire through marriage of Damen and Elexis was the ultimate business transaction. A transaction that was now in jeopardy.

Her stomach knotted and cramped. There was no way her father could ever pay Damen back for the money he’d invested in the Dukas ships and ports. Her father lacked the means. The business and family were perpetually cash-strapped. It was why her father had sought out the merger five years ago. Dukas Shipping would fold without an investor. Damen had been the investor. He’d upheld his end of the deal, but now Kristopher had to inform Damen that the Dukases hadn’t kept their side of the bargain.

Nauseous, Kassiani looked out the villa window, seeking the view beyond. The sun reflected brilliantly off the villa’s whitewashed walls and bounced in cheerful rays off the water, the Aegean Sea so much brighter—a vibrant liquid turquoise—than the murky blue of the Pacific Ocean near her home in San Francisco.

“I’m not certain I understand,” Damen answered just as pleasantly, both men employing the same friendly tone, but Kassiani knew this was just a prelude to battle.

Boxers touched gloves before a bout. Wrestlers bowed before a match. Soccer players shook hands.

Her father and Damen were already fencing.

She glanced from her father to Damen. No, he didn’t look like a tycoon. He was too fit, too physically imposing. His skin was bronzed, and he had the toned, taut look of a man who worked in the shipyards, not at a desk. But it was his profile that held her attention, his features as chiseled and hard as the rest of him, the forehead high, cheekbones prominent, nose decidedly thick at the bridge, as if broken more than once.

He was a fighter, she thought, and he wouldn’t take her father’s news sitting down, which only made Kassiani even more grateful she was seated, tucked into a corner sofa.

“Elexis is gone.” Kristopher delivered the news bluntly, before adding, “I’m hoping to have her back soon, we just need—”

“I’m sorry. I must stop you there, Dukas.” Damen’s voice dropped, the rasp softening into almost a caress. “We don’t have a problem. You have a problem.”

Kristopher held his position but his ashen complexion seemed to pale yet again. “I’m aware of that, but I thought we should notify guests while there is time.”

“There is no canceling the wedding. There will be no broken promises. There will be no public humiliation. Is that understood?”

“But—”

“You promised me the best daughter five years ago. I expect you to deliver.”

The best daughter. Kassiani’s eyes stung and she bit into her lower lip to hold back the hurt and shame.

She hadn’t thought she’d made a sound but suddenly Damen looked at her. His expression was shuttered, his black lashes framing intense, dark eyes. She could read nothing in his face and yet somehow that brief glance skewered her, intensifying her pain.

She was not the best daughter. She would never be the best daughter, not as long as she remained a Dukas.

Damen turned back to her father and his firm full lips curved ever so slightly at the corner, a contemptuous light in his gray eyes. “I will see you tomorrow at the church,” he said. “With my bride.”

And then he walked out.

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS A perfect day for a May wedding on the Greek Riviera.

The sky was an endless, azure blue with just a smattering of puffy white clouds. The sun reflected brightly off the thick walls of the villa’s tiny whitewashed chapel, glazing the tiled roof, while the Aegean Sea and the Temple of Poseidon shimmered in the background. The temperature was perfect as well, comfortable and warm, without being hot, or humid.

Ordinarily, a bride would be ecstatic at such perfect conditions, but Kassiani was no ordinary bride. She was not even supposed to be the bride.

Today was her sister’s wedding, with the ceremony and reception to take place at Damen’s historic seaside villa in Sounio, but early this morning Kristopher Dukas made the drastic decision to swap brides on the unsuspecting bridegroom, thus Kassiani now stood outside the villa chapel’s wooden door, waiting her cue to enter, while knots in her stomach exploded, turning into frantic butterflies.

There was a huge possibility this would not end well. She fully expected the groom to walk out on her in the middle of the service, abandoning her in the tiny church.

The bridegroom was not a fool.

The bridegroom was one of the most powerful men in the world, and he would not like being duped.

Kassiani was not in the habit of duping men, either.

She was the youngest Dukas. The least remarkable in every way. But when cornered by her father this morning, she’d agreed to his plan and would marry Damen Alexopoulos not because it would save her father’s hide, but it’d save hers, as well.

Marriage to Damen would be her way out. She’d escape her father’s house. She’d escape her father’s control. And she’d come into the trust her late aunt had established for her, a trust that would give her some measure of freedom and financial control.

It was worth noting, too, that the wedding today would mean she had actually accomplished something significant in her father’s eyes. Even if it meant she was giving up one controlling male for another, because at twenty-three, she was ready to do something, and be someone other than plain, dumpy, uninspiring Kassiani Dukas.

Marrying the fabulously wealthy shipping tycoon Damen Alexopoulos wouldn’t change the way she looked, but it would change the way people thought of her, and spoke of her. It would force them to recognize her as someone of consequence, pathetic as that was.

The harpist played within the church, and her father—short, stout, with thick salt-and-pepper hair—gestured impatiently for her. Kassiani suppressed a sigh. Her father really didn’t like her. As a little girl she’d never understood his coldness, because he absolutely doted on Elexis, but as she grew up and came to understand the world, she was able to put the pieces together.

Kristopher was not a handsome man, and he wanted to be liked. Respected. Having money was just one way to be respected. Having beautiful children was another. And while Elexis was their late mother’s clone—their mother, having been a successful model before she’d given up her career to marry the Greek American shipping magnate—Kassiani unfortunately favored her father, inheriting both his build and his strong jaw. Not what a woman wanted when her mother had been a famous model.

Kassiani exhaled in a depressing whoosh. These thoughts were not helping. Her self-esteem—never strong—was plummeting by the moment. And then her father snapped his fingers.

It seemed it was time.

The butterflies returned and her hand trembled as she took her father’s arm. He paused to adjust her heavy lace veil, better cloaking her face.

Kassiani felt utterly terrified, and yet also strangely calm. Once they stepped into the chapel, there would be no turning back. Elexis had let her father down. Elexis had let the entire family down. Kass would do no such thing.

For once she could do something to benefit her father’s vast shipping business. She’d wanted to work for Dukas Shipping since she was in second grade. She’d even studied business and international law at Stanford so she’d be of value, but her father had rebuffed her, refusing to hire her, or even listen to her ideas. He was painfully old-fashioned, believing a woman’s value was at home, producing heirs, and preferably male heirs.

After twenty-three years of being useless, after twenty-three years of being an embarrassment, she was aiding her father, significantly aiding him by saving him from bankruptcy and all the ensuing humiliation and shame.

Empowered, Kassiani drew a breath, lifted her chin and took her first step into the four-hundred-year-old Greek Orthodox church. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the cool, dark interior, and then she spotted the groom before her. It really was a tiny chapel, with just five rows of pews on either side of the narrow aisle.

Damen Michael Alexopoulos stood at the front, just before the altar and priest. Once Kassiani spotted her future husband, she couldn’t look away. Dressed in a severe black suit, he looked even more intimidating than he had yesterday in the villa suite. She didn’t know if it was his height, or the width of his shoulders, but there was a dangerous stillness about him now that made the air catch in her throat.

Was he suspicious?

Had he already figured out she wasn’t the right bride?

Kass was so heavily veiled that she could barely see through the thick white lace, but he was no fool and it wouldn’t take much to assess her size and shape and realize that there was no way she was Elexis, of Instagram fame. Elexis was opposite Kass in every way imaginable. Even wearing treacherously high heels, Kassiani remained short, her plump figure wrapped in the tightest of undergarments, including the old-fashioned corset necessary to make Elexis’s dress fit, and that was after the dress had been altered to include additional panels and a dramatically shortened hem.

“He knows,” she said under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” her father gritted. “And it’s too late for second thoughts. You cannot fail me.”

A lump filled her throat. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

She clenched his arm and kept her chin high. The only way through challenging times was to go through them. There would be no retreat. There would be no panicking. She would make this work. She would find a way to please her husband. She would bring the two families together. And it would be her, Petra Kassiani, who did it, not Elexis, and not her playboy brother, Barnabas, who had so little familial love that he hadn’t even bothered to show up for the wedding.

She could do this. She could.

The real question was, would he?

* * *

Damen knew the moment Kristopher Dukas entered the chapel with his daughter that it was the wrong daughter.

He watched them process—portly Kristopher with his heavily veiled daughter teetering in her heels—unable to believe the American’s audacity.

It seemed that once again Kristopher took the easy way out. Instead of retrieving the wayward Elexis, Kristopher had simply swapped daughters, substituting the youngest for the eldest.

Who did that?

What kind of man treated his daughters like cattle?

Damen felt a jolt—shock, disbelief—as Kristopher placed his younger daughter’s hand in his, handing her over at the altar, clearly the sacrificial lamb. Even Damen, who was ruthless in business, knew the difference between dishonesty and betrayal. And this was a betrayal.

It’s not that he needed a beauty queen for a bride, but this younger daughter wasn’t Elexis and he’d chosen Elexis for a reason.

Gleaming, polished, ambitious Elexis Dukas suited him in looks and temperament. She’d hold her own socially, and she’d be an accomplished hostess, things he knew he needed in a wife because he detested social engagements and refused to be part of any dog and pony show. Elexis loved the spotlight. She loved attention. She could easily represent them at important functions and no one would miss him. Why would they, when they had her?

He felt no affection for Elexis, but she was the one he wanted, and he hadn’t proposed to her without knowing exactly what he was getting in a wife—both strengths and weaknesses. Elexis led an enviable lifestyle. She traveled with the jet set. She partied at all the best clubs. She wore the best clothes, sitting in the front rows of the biggest fashion shows. Her life was one photo opportunity after another, but he’d let her carry on as she always had during their engagement, aware that once she became his wife, she’d settle down and become a proper wife.

He needed a proper wife, one who understood her place in his world, and wouldn’t make emotional demands. He didn’t do emotions. And he didn’t tolerate demands.

But now Elexis was gone and there was a very different Dukas at his side and it suddenly crossed Damen’s mind that perhaps this had been Kristopher’s plan from the beginning. Perhaps Elexis had never intended to marry him? Perhaps Kristopher had never planned on giving his beloved Elexis to Damen?

Perhaps Kristopher had always intended on dumping his youngest, the one he casually referred to as the Dukas Ugly Duckling, on him.

He should walk out now.

And just when he was about to drop the Ugly Duckling’s hand, she lifted her face, her dark gaze finding his through her veil, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

* * *

They signed the registry in the chapel’s antechamber. Damen gritted his teeth, angry beyond measure as it struck him that the worst part of this—no, not the worst but yet another negative among negatives—was that he didn’t even know his new wife’s name. “So who have I married, if not Elexis?” he ground out as the priest handed him a pen.

Her long lace veil had been folded back on the top of her head and she glanced at him but looked away, unable to hold his furious gaze. He felt a tightness in his chest as her ridiculously long black lashes dropped, concealing her eyes.

“Kassiani,” she said huskily.

He felt angrier by the moment. His fingers itched to smash something hard—like the narrow table, or the nearest stone wall. “That wasn’t the name in the ceremony.”

“No, the priest used my legal first name, Petra, but no one calls me Petra. I’m either Kass or Kassiani.”

He ground his teeth together, not just upset with her, but with himself for not having walked out of the service when he could. Why had he let her apology sway him? Why had her whispered words kept him from leaving her there at the altar?

He didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and he wasn’t in the frame of mind to sort it out. “Do not think this is over,” he said curtly after signing his name and handing the pen to her.

She looked up at him as she accepted the pen, a faint line between her arched eyebrows, expression troubled. “I don’t.”

“Was this always the plan, to swap sisters on the unsuspecting groom?”

Color suffused her pale cheeks. “No.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I didn’t want you.”

The pink color swiftly faded from her face. Her full lips compressed as she drew a slow breath and then she managed an unsteady laugh. “Understood.”

“I’m not trying to be offensive.”

She lifted her chin and met his gaze then, her eyes locking with his. “No offense taken.”

In any other circumstances, he thought he would have liked her. She was direct and smart and articulate. But this wasn’t a casual conversation. He’d just been played and he wasn’t in the most charitable frame of mind. “I’m not one to forgive and forget.”

* * *

He saw a shadow pass across her face, and he almost felt sorry for her, but then the shadow disappeared, leaving her expression calm and composed. “And as you can see, I’m not one to pass up a slice of cake, or a bit of a chocolate.” Then she leaned over the registry and added her name, her long lace veil spilling across her shoulder in a waterfall of white. When she’d finished, she straightened and squared her shoulders and handed back the pen. “It seems we all have our crosses to bear.”

He didn’t know if it was her words, or her ridiculous bravado, but he felt a rush of intense emotion—emotion he didn’t welcome—and drew her hard against him, tilting her chin back with one hand before covering her mouth, capturing it with his. She was petite, barely reaching his shoulder, and impossibly warm and soft, which made his kiss harder, and fiercer. It wasn’t the kiss a man should give his young bride, but nothing about this wedding was right.

* * *

Upstairs in the luxurious villa bedroom Kassiani had dressed in earlier, she walked back and forth, chewing on a knuckle, trying to calm herself.

He didn’t want her, and he didn’t like her, and she had a feeling this could all still fall apart any moment.

The vows wouldn’t hold, not unless the marriage was consummated, and she couldn’t imagine him taking her to his bed right now. Quite frankly, she didn’t want to be in his bed, either, and she shuddered remembering his coldness as he’d told her he didn’t forgive and forget.

She didn’t doubt him.

Which was why she was here in the bedroom, hiding. She’d lost her nerve. Somehow she’d found the necessary courage this morning to take Elexis’s place for the ceremony, but that courage was gone.

Thank God the ceremony had been small and private. No one but the immediate family attended. However, the reception was large, with hundreds of guests flying in from all over the world to witness the marriage of Elexis Dukas and Damen Alexopoulos.

Kassiani stopped pacing to double over, wanting to throw up as she imagined appearing at the reception. The guests would laugh when they saw her. It was one thing to be Elexis in private, hidden beneath layers of thick lace. It was another to be Elexis in front of those who knew her sister best.

Kass couldn’t imagine joining Damen on the terrace for dinner, or dancing, or cutting of the cake. She’d convinced herself she could do this—but she’d thought only about the ceremony and vows. She hadn’t taken in the terror of appearing in public as his new wife.

His wife.

Kassiani’s legs buckled and she dropped onto the edge of the bed, her full skirts billowing up around her, her feet aching from her stupid shoes.

What had she done?

She was wiping away tears when her bedroom door suddenly opened and Damen entered her room.

He hadn’t even knocked. He’d simply barged in.

Her head jerked up, her lips parting in surprise, but she uttered no protest. His fierce expression silenced anything she might have said.

She waited for him to speak.

He didn’t.

He simply stared at her, and the silence was unbearable. A tremor coursed through her.

Time slowed to a crawl. The seconds felt like minutes. She tried to meet his gaze but his scathing look of contempt was more than she could endure in that moment. “Please say something,” she finally murmured.

“Our guests have been waiting.”

Again she pictured the stone terrace filled with linen-draped tables and gleaming candelabras. The reception was a sophisticated palette of cream, bisque and white and Kassiani did not belong there. It wasn’t her wedding. They weren’t her guests. This wasn’t her party. “I couldn’t go down.”

“Am I to bring the guests up to you?”

“No. Please don’t.”

“Do you want to be carried down?”

“No.” She couldn’t look at him. Her eyes burned. What had seemed so brave and necessary this morning now seemed like the worst idea imaginable.

“It’s a little late to turn coward.”

She hung her head. “I agree.”

Silence stretched. The room was so quiet she could hear his low, irritated exhale. “If you’re expecting sympathy—”

“I’m not.”

“Good. This is your own fault.”

She started to speak, but then closed her mouth, pressing her lips together. He was right, of course. How could she argue the point?

“You can’t just sit up here all night,” he added after a moment.

She plucked at a pearl embroidered into the skirt of her gown. “I’m not much of a party person. I never have been.”

“Even if it’s your own wedding?”

“As we both know, it wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Therein lies the problem.”

She briefly met his gaze, her breath catching in her throat before she swiftly averted her head, blood rushing to her cheeks.

He made her so nervous. He was nothing like her father or brother. He was nothing like anyone she’d ever known before.

“How did you think this would go?” he asked, his tone shifting, less harsh, almost mild.

The change in tone surprised her, but still she couldn’t speak.

Kassiani bit her lip, unable to answer.

“Truthfully,” he prompted.

Her shoulders twisted. She hated this helpless, pathetic feeling. She hated feeling like a failure. She hadn’t married him to be a failure. “I didn’t think about the reception and the guests. To be honest, this part didn’t even cross my mind. It was just the ceremony...and then...” She drew a quick breath and lifted her head, her eyes meeting his. “...the rest.”

“And what was the rest?”

“Being a proper wife.” She could see from the cynical glint in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. “I understand what wives do. Your comfort is my responsibility—”

“Your father told you this?”

“I’m a Greek woman. I know what Greek men expect.”

There was something in his dark, speculative gaze that made her skin prickle and her pulse lurch, and she didn’t know how to manage so many new and strange feelings at the same time.

“Go on, then.”

She swallowed hard, trying not to betray just how nervous she felt. “Besides taking care of you, I’m to manage your home...or homes. I’m to provide you with children. And I understand and accept those responsibilities.”

“It seems one of the Dukas daughters is dutiful, then.”

“Elexis and I have different strengths.”

“She likes parties.”

“She would have enjoyed the reception, yes.”

“And the photographers.”

“The camera loves her.”

“What did your father do to convince you to take your sister’s place?”

Her brow creased. “Excuse me?”

“Did he threaten you? Or was there a bribe involved? How did he get you to walk down the aisle and go through this whole...charade?”

“It’s not a charade. I married you.” She paused, gathering herself. “Of my own volition.”

“So you volunteered?”

“No. I didn’t volunteer. This isn’t exactly a volunteer position.”

He made a rough sound in the back of his throat and Kassiani calmly added, “But when my father presented me the...situation... I agreed that it was a problem and my family was indebted to you. It wouldn’t be right for the Dukases to humiliate you. So I agreed to take Elexis’s place so that the merger of businesses and families could still take place.”

“Wasn’t there a saint named Kassiani?”

“She was a hymnographer, not a virgin bride.”

He gave her another long look. “I’m to be grateful the Dukas virgin has been forced onto me?”

She winced but refused to dwell on his sarcasm. “You’re not being forced into anything. You can annul this afternoon’s ceremony. Tomorrow. The next day. The day after.” Her chin lifted. “As long as we don’t consummate the marriage, you’re free to annul this marriage at any time.”

“Is that what you’re hoping I’ll do?”

“No. I said vows today and I intend to keep them. It is my expectation that we’ll consummate the marriage tonight.”

“And if I don’t feel like falling into bed with...you?”

A lump filled her throat. She was aware of how disappointing she was as a woman. She could never compare, or compete, with Elexis. But she was still a woman and she had feelings. And hopes. And dreams. “I will do my best to make you want me.”

The glance he shot her seemed laced with scorn and then he walked away from her, crossing the room to stand at the window, which faced the sea and the ancient Temple of Poseidon, which glowed golden in the setting sun. Tonight promised to be yet another spectacular sunset. Sunsets on Cape Sounio were the stuff of legends.

“Perhaps we should just dispense with this farce now,” Damen said, his back still to her, his gaze fixed on the sea.

“Perhaps,” she agreed serenely, grateful he couldn’t see her hard jaw and how hurt and frustration welled. “I won’t call you a coward if you do.”

He turned suddenly, facing her. Temper blazed in his eyes. “I have done my part,” he gritted. “I invested in Dukas Shipping. I sorted out your father’s legal entanglements. I put aside my mistresses and waited patiently, celibately for your sister—”

“That was obviously a mistake.”

“You’re not helping your case, kitten.”

“I don’t think anything can. Because surely you don’t want my sympathy, do you?” He didn’t answer and her firm chin rose higher. “Maybe you should’ve spent more time with your future bride to make sure she was the right bride.”

“Your father assured me Elexis was the right bride.”

“And there is the root of all our problems. You trusted my father.” Her full lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The world thinks you’re smarter than that.”

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “That does not sound very complimentary for a daughter to say of the father.”

“Or for a bride to say of her new husband—”

“I wasn’t going to say it.”

She shrugged, and plucked at yet another pearl on her gown. “I’m a realist, I always have been.” Kassiani drew a breath before continuing, her words cool and measured. “And I know who my family are. I know their strengths. I know their weaknesses.” Her eyebrows flattened, her expression turning pensive. “Personally, I would not have gone into business with them. And I certainly wouldn’t have climbed into bed with them. But you wanted the West Coast of North America. You wanted the ships and the ports and the agreements, and now you have them.”

He walked back toward her, closing the distance with quiet, measured strides. Kassiani tried not to shrink as he stood directly before her, so tall that she had to tip her head back to see his face.

“You do not think highly of me,” he said quietly.

Her heart did a painful double beat even as something like desire curled in her belly. The butterflies were back, but they weren’t from fear. “I think you have underestimated the Dukas family.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She hesitated for a long moment before looking up into his eyes. “I wouldn’t marry a man I didn’t hold in high esteem.”

He stared down at her for even longer. “I’m not much for parties, either. We’ll skip the reception and leave now.”

CHAPTER TWO

DAMEN LED HER down stairs at the back of the villa, the hidden nature of the staircase indicating they were for the staff, before exiting the villa through a plain door, arriving into the villa’s kitchen garden. They passed through herbs and fruit trees, and then turned left at an impressive beehive where they headed away from the orchard to a narrow path leading toward the water.

The path led to steep narrow stairs, and once down the wooden staircase they reached a simple dock, where a speedboat waited.

The driver of the boat offered her a hand in order to assist her into the boat, but Damen swept her into his arms and lifted her over the side, placing her inside on her feet.

She swayed in her heels, and immediately found the nearest seat.

Damen sat down opposite her and they were off, slowly at first and then picking up speed as they put distance between them and land.

The wind grabbed at her veil and Kassiani gripped the edge of her seat with one hand and tried to control her heavy veil with the other. From the water she could see the estate and villa. The estate was large, and one of the oldest on this part of the Athenian coast. The villa had been built facing the water, ensuring every room a sweeping view of the turquoise sea and the Temple of Poseidon on the hill across the water.

From their vantage point in the water, the garden glowed with soft golden white light, with fairy lights strung in trees, and candelabras glimmering on the two dozen tables, while chandeliers inside the house emphasized the high ceilings and striking architecture. From here, the wedding reception looked downright magical, and Kassiani felt a pang of regret—this wasn’t the wedding the guests had come for.

She tried to imagine their reaction when they discovered that the bride and groom were gone. She wondered how the evening would even go. Would anyone stay for the dinner once they realized there was no bride and groom? Or would others linger and dine and drink and take advantage of the splendid setting? She couldn’t help thinking that there would be some who were grateful there would be no toasts, no speeches, no protracted dinner courses. And she was certain there were others, those who truly loved Damen, who would be confused, and worried.

The wedding really turned out to be a shambles.

What had Damen called it? A farce? A charade?

She felt a twinge of guilt followed by fresh anxiety. This was all so crazy, she hadn’t really wrapped her head around anything that had taken place today. And now they were jetting off, but she had no idea where they were going. But as the cape fell farther behind, the boat suddenly slowed, drawing close to an enormous yacht in the bay, and then the engine turned off as they reached the yacht ladder at the back. Crew stood on a small platform awaiting them.

“Let’s get your shoes off,” Damen said. “I’d rather you not try to climb the stairs in those ridiculous shoes. How high are those heels anyway?”

“Too high,” she admitted, grateful to remove the shoes that had pinched her feet all afternoon.

Once they were off, Damen swung Kassiani into his arms and lifted her out, placing her on the platform. “Can you manage the stairs in that dress?” he asked.

“What are my options? Removing the dress here?” she answered.

He growled. “No.”

She almost laughed. “Then yes, I can manage the stairs in this dress.”

* * *

Her father’s yacht had been built for her mother. And her father had never understood her mother’s taste, and so the yacht had been over-the-top feminine with cream walls and gilded surfaces, floral tapestries and upholstery with horrendous columns everywhere to make the interior look like a Greek temple. Kassiani had found the superyacht garish and unappealing and she’d hated the few times her parents—she never knew which—decided they must all do a Mediterranean cruise together, trapping them on the yacht. She’d hated yachts and boats ever since, and held her breath as she was led up and down staircases and then down a narrow paneled hall toward bedrooms.

She wasn’t sure if she was being taken to a master bedroom or just any bedroom, but when the uniformed staff opened a door and stepped back for her to enter, she was fairly certain it was the master bedroom by the fact that half the room was all floor-to-ceiling walls and glass doors with a private deck and a jaw-dropping view of the Temple of Poseidon, which had now been lit for the night and the dozens of majestic columns glowed yellow. The ancient ruins were beyond beautiful and she was drawn to the view, opening one set of the French doors to step out onto the deck.

And then on the opposite side of the bay, a villa and its grand gardens glimmered with light, competing for attention. Damen’s villa.

For the first time since arriving in Greece, she felt the pull of Greece. Or maybe it was the stirring of her own Greek blood, recognizing that she’d come home. Her chest suddenly ached and she put a hand to her breast, pressing against the pain, overwhelmed by emotion.

What had she done?

“Second thoughts?” Damen’s deep voice sounded behind her.

She turned suddenly, and struggled to smile but failed. “I don’t know that I’d call them second thoughts, but certainly, this view gives me pause.” Her head tipped as she studied him. “And you? Buyer’s remorse?”

“You’re a woman, not livestock. I haven’t bought you.”

“But I’m not the woman you wanted.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “No.”

“I don’t blame you for being disappointed. Elexis is stunning.”

“She looks like your mother.”

Kassiani stifled the pain. “And I take after Dad.” She was grateful her voice sounded light, and breezy. She’d never want him to know how much it hurt being the Dukas her father called “pitiful.”

“I didn’t choose Elexis for her beauty.”

Kassiani smiled politely. She didn’t believe him for a moment. “Either way, I suppose it’s a moot point now, isn’t it?”

He looked from her to the Cape of Sounio, glowing gold with its famous marble temple built in 440 BC. It was remarkable that so much of the ancient temple remained.

“Did she ever intend to marry me?” he asked quietly.

Yes. No. Kass drew a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Elexis is a bit of an enigma.”

“So there is more than what the eye sees?”

“No. The enigma is that she is just what you see. Beautiful.”

His gaze narrowed and then he gave a half shrug. “It’s been hours since breakfast. You must be starving—”

“Do I look as if I’m starving?” she interrupted with a faint smile.

He gave her another assessing glance. “I’ll have a tray sent to you.”

“Are you not eating?”

“I have things to take care of.”

He didn’t want to dine with her. Even though it was their wedding night. It shouldn’t bother her. She shouldn’t be attached to the outcome. She was here, the substitute bride, out of obligation, not affection. He was the humiliated groom. She shouldn’t be surprised that he wanted to keep his distance. “A tray would be lovely.” She nodded toward the glowing point. “Could I eat out here?”

“I’ll have my steward set up a table.”

She started to thank him but he was already walking out, and she watched him go, a lump filling her throat. This was not going to be easy.

* * *

Damen’s office on the second deck was similar to his bedroom—a wall of windows, another wall of bookshelves and then large art pieces here and there. His oversize desk faced out, because he always preferred working with a view of the water. His parents might have preferred the land, and the olive groves they considered home, but he needed the sea. He craved the sea. It was when he faced out, toward the horizon of blue sky and blue sea, he could relax and breathe.

He ate only a few bites of his dinner before pushing it aside to concentrate on the agreements he’d pulled up on his laptop.

Agreements and contracts dating back three years, even though the discussion regarding merging Dukas and Alexopoulos began five years ago when Elexis was just graduating from college. Kristopher had been the one to approach Damen, suggesting that while each family was successful, they’d be even more powerful together, marrying the two families, and merging the two shipping empires, creating a truly remarkable empire. They’d be a world power together, controlling shipping lanes across the globe.

Damen had been intrigued but not sufficiently tempted because he knew Dukas’s reputation. Dukas’s deals could be shady as he tended to play a little too fast and loose. Damen might be ruthless, but he also knew that one’s word mattered and he ran his business with integrity.

But two years later when Damen heard that Kristopher was dangling his daughter again, trying to find another Greek shipping company as a potential partner, he acted, flying out to San Francisco to discuss mutually beneficial scenarios. All of which included marriage to Dukas’s daughter Elexis.

Damen wasn’t emotionally attached to Elexis. She was simply a means to an end. And yet when he finally met Elexis, and saw how people responded to her, he was reassured, realizing she wouldn’t just be a wife and mother to his heirs, but a valuable asset. The fact that people were drawn to her would be useful when entertaining clients. She could concentrate on the social niceties, leaving him free to focus on business.

Love never entered the equation because Damen didn’t love people. He needed certain people in his life to get things done. He respected some of those he worked with, but tended to ignore most, having very little tolerance for people’s weaknesses and idiosyncrasies. The more someone could prove beneficial, the more value he placed on them. It was cold, and unfeeling, but that was who he was and he wouldn’t ever apologize for being pragmatic and strategic.

It was what had taken him from the olive groves on Chios, to the helm of Aegean Shipping, which he renamed Alexopoulos Shipping of the Aegean after the elder Mr. Koumantaras died. The Koumantaras family wasn’t happy that Mr. Koumantaras Sr. had left control of his business to the outsider, upstart Damen Alexopoulos, but Damen felt no remorse. Koumantaras’s children had no desire to work for the family business. All they wanted was to live off the profits. So why should they care if the company changed its name?

One day Dukas Shipping would go the way of Aegean Shipping—the name would drop and the company itself would fold into the more powerful Alexopoulos Shipping.

Damen closed his laptop to look out the window at the now dark sky. At midnight the lights on the Temple of Poseidon would go out, but as it was only ten, the temple still glowed from the spotlights.

Damen tapped a finger on the arm of his chair, trying to ease the tension bottled within him. He hated how Kristopher Dukas had played him. He hated the feelings flooding him. He didn’t like it when his temper flared. He had a hot temper. He used to have a horrendous temper. It had taken years to learn how to manage his anger, but today was testing him. Today made him want to let loose, and level something.

He thought of Kassiani in the master bedroom and closed his eyes and shook his head.

He didn’t know why he’d allowed the steward to take her there. Kassiani should have been taken to a guest room. Somewhere out of his way. Somewhere he could forget her.

Instead she was in his room, waiting for his return.

His gut cramped.

He didn’t want her. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but he didn’t want her. She wasn’t the bride he’d been promised. Kristopher had promised the best daughter, and Damen had believed him, investing heavily in Dukas Shipping’s West Coast ports, building them up, buying new ships, aware that the heavy cash investment now would stabilize both of their businesses in the future. But the deal was off.

The marriage would be annulled.

And the contracts would soon be voided.

He’d already emailed his attorney to start the process of dissolution. Now it was just a matter of returning the Dukas girl to her father and moving forward the necessary legal action.

* * *

Her meal finished, Kassiani left the table and retreated inside to study the luxurious master bedroom. At least, she assumed it was the master bedroom, which meant Damen would be returning at some point, and they would be alone. Here. In the bedroom.

She, who had only pecked Damen on the lips at the chapel, needed to find the confidence to sleep with him. Correction, not sleep, but have sex with him, because if the marriage wasn’t fully consummated, Damen could annul it and then the Dukases would lose everything.

Kassiani might not be the favored daughter, but she was loyal to her family and protective of the company. She’d agreed to marry Damen so that Dukas Shipping wouldn’t be destroyed by legal actions. Damen could destroy them. His demands for restitution would bankrupt the company.

As her father baldly put it this morning—he couldn’t afford to pay Damen back. The wedding had to happen, and the marriage consummated.

Which meant Kassiani had to seduce Damen tonight. It wouldn’t be easy. She wasn’t just a virgin, but a virgin with zero experience. Before the peck in the chapel, she’d only ever been kissed once before, a bumbling fumbling kiss that had been so wet and distasteful that she’d never wanted to kiss again.

Compared to that wet, violent assault on her mouth, today’s chapel kiss had been rather exhilarating. When he’d tilted her chin up to kiss her, she’d felt a little shiver of anticipation, and he’d smelled lovely as his head dropped, his mouth brushing hers. His lips had felt firm and cool, and yet they’d somehow made her feel warm, and tingly. Her lips continued to tingle even after he’d lifted his head. She’d found herself wishing the kiss had lasted longer. She was curious as to what more would feel like, and with a longer kiss, perhaps she could process her thoughts and all the different sensations. Kass liked data and analysis. Information was immensely helpful.

More information was needed now.

How was she to seduce Damen when she had no knowledge of such things? Of course she knew what men’s bodies looked like. She didn’t live in the Dark Ages. She had a brother. She had a father. The internet was full of photographs, and movies, and she’d just have to piece together from movies what men would like.

From what she recalled, men seemed to like stripteases. They liked lap dances. They liked titillation, including women on their knees, obedient and eager to please.

Kassiani tried to imagine kneeling before Damen, her hands on his thighs, fingers moving toward the zipper of his trousers.

The image made her feel peculiar. Heat washed through her, making her skin prickle, and her breasts peak. The hot ball of tension seemed to center low in her belly, pulsing a little between her thighs. She was nervous and excited at the same time. Her entire world had been turned upside down. She’d come to Athens five days ago expecting to attend her sister’s wedding. Instead she’d been woken by her father early this morning with the news that he expected her to marry Elexis’s groom. And Kassiani, so desperate to earn her father’s favor, had. Now instead of returning to San Francisco, she was to remain in Greece, and make a new life for herself as Damen’s wife.

Kassiani shot a glance into the wood-framed mirror on the wall. She was still wearing Elexis’s wedding dress, and the lace panels that had been added were pulling at the seams. Even in a corset, even with the additional panels added to the dress, the gown was too tight. The fabric pulled in all the wrong places.

Kass had never let herself dream about her wedding day, but if she was being honest, she’d say it certainly wasn’t the wedding that took place today, and she certainly wouldn’t have chosen this dress...a dress that made her look even curvier and stockier with all the lace panels.

No, she would have chosen something simple—an off-the-shoulder white satin gown that minimized her bust and skimmed her hips, before falling into a long graceful skirt in the same clean white satin. There would have been no plunging necklines and no bustle and no ornate beading adding thickness and weight to the lace panels worked into the bodice and skirt.

Kassiani placed a hand to the plunging neckline, running her fingertips lightly over her curves. Her breasts were beyond voluptuous. She’d always hated the thickness of her hips and thighs, as well as the shape of her belly, somewhat round as if she practiced belly dancing regularly, instead of the hours she spent on a treadmill walking, walking, walking, forever trying to reduce her form, wanting to be lean like her mother and sister. She would never be lean.

Her exterior was what it was—it couldn’t be changed—and she was certain her new husband was disappointed, which was why she had to prove herself. She had to prove to him tonight that she fully intended to be a good wife. She’d find a way to satisfy him.

But how?

And what if she couldn’t get him to respond?

Kass grabbed her phone and, while struggling out of her gown and layers of girdles and undergarments, researched men and arousal. Peeling her stockings off, she found quite a few sites offering numerous tips on how to please your man in bed, ranging from “Twelve Erogenous Zones That Shouldn’t Be Ignored” to a very useful and practical article on “How to Give Unforgettable Oral Sex.”

Naked, she headed into the adjoining white marble bathroom and, careful not to get her hair wet—it was still coiled up in an elaborate updo—she used the body wash in the shower to try to rub some of the marks out of her skin, but the angry red marks created by the corset weren’t ready to fade. Leaving the shower, she wrapped herself in the white robe hanging on the back of the door, and then sat down on the edge of the bathtub and began reading everything she could about pleasing a man.

She was still reading when she heard a firm knock on the bathroom door. “Are you hiding, mikrí sou gynaíka?”

Her Greek was a little rusty, but not so rusty she didn’t understand his words. Are you hiding, my little wife?

She jumped up and turned her phone off. “No.” Kassiani opened the door and faced him, tugging the lapels of the robe so that they better covered her chest. “I’m using your robe. I hope that is okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t think to bring any clothes with me.”

“I don’t think either of us was thinking clearly.” He hesitated, and then shrugged. “This isn’t going to work. I’ll ask the crew to find something for you to wear and then my security will get you back to the villa at Sounio.”

“Am I that much of a disappointment?”

“You’re not a disappointment.”

“Then why send me away without giving me a chance?”

“Because I was engaged to Elexis, not you.”

“But Elexis left and I was there.”

“The Dukas sisters are not interchangeable!”

“Because I’m not beautiful like her?”

“Because you’re not hard like her.” He didn’t quite yell, but he flung the words at her with enough ferocity to make her flinch. He must have seen her reaction because he dropped his voice. “I wanted a wife who wouldn’t feel. A woman I couldn’t bruise. I don’t know you very well, Petra Kassiani, but my gut says you feel, and feel deeply.”

Heat rushed through her, and shame, because he was right. She did feel deeply but she hated that aspect of her personality, far preferring her intellect over her emotions. “I understand the kind of marriage you want. I won’t ask you to romance me. I won’t expect flowers and poetry—”

“Or tenderness? Or kindness? Or patience?”

“I can’t believe you’re capable of all of the above.”

“Well, I am. Trust me.”

“You were marrying Elexis to help save Dukas Shipping.”

“I was marrying Elexis to dismantle Dukas Shipping.”

Her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.

“If you stay here, if you remain my wife and the agreements and contracts hold, there will be no Dukas Shipping in five years. It will all be Alexopoulos Shipping of the Aegean.”

She stared at him, skeptical, but also wary. “Is this your way of making me throw up my arms and run back to my father? Am I to choose him and his business over you?”

“I am nothing to you. You are nothing to me—”

“I married you. You are my husband.”

“But you do not know me. You should have no loyalty to me.”

“I pledged to care for you and be a good wife. I intend to keep my vow.”

“Even though I want to destroy what’s left of your father’s business?”

She didn’t immediately answer, taking needed time to form an answer. “From the beginning this was to be a merger of families and businesses. The stronger business always wins in mergers. You are the stronger partner and change was inevitable.”

He turned away and walked through the French doors to the deck. She could see him run his hand across his jaw, once, and then again. He was battling himself, she thought. He was battling and she didn’t even know his fight, but whatever it was, she was firmly on his side. She had to be. She had chosen him, and she’d wanted a new life. A different life. She’d wanted to be an Alexopoulos, and not a Dukas, and if she wasn’t careful he’d cart her back to the mainland and she’d be back with her father, which was the last place she wanted to be.

Kassiani followed him outside. Clouds half covered the moon, casting shadows on the deck. She couldn’t see Damen’s face clearly. But his shoulders were rigid, and even from this angle, he looked utterly unapproachable.

“Damen.”

“Go back inside. I can’t think clearly with you near me.”

“Maybe that’s good.”

“It’s not.”

The night had cooled and a wind blew, tugging at her hair, and the label of her thick white robe. “Please, just give me a chance—”

“For God’s sake, do not beg, Kassiani.”

“Just give me a chance. One chance. That’s all I ask.”

“Why?”

“I want out. I want a life away from my family—”

“You’re not going to get a happy family with me.”

“I’m not asking for a fairy tale. I’m not pretty and popular. I find dating a nightmare. I’m so awkward but at the same time, I’m practical. I know you were marrying my sister because you wanted heirs. Obviously she’s not ready to marry and be a mother, but I am. I want children. I’ll be a good mother, too. So give me a chance to show you I could be a good wife, and...please...you. If I can’t, and you have no...interest...despite my best efforts, then I will go home, and I’ll accept your decision. But I can’t accept rejection before I’ve had a chance to prove myself—”

“This isn’t about you,” he gritted, spinning around, features twisted. “This is about your father manipulating me—”

“But you got everything you wanted...the deals, the ports, the ships, the agreements, everything but Elexis. And you said you didn’t love her, so why can’t I be a substitute bride? Why can’t I be the woman to give you your children? Is it because I’m so much plainer?”

“No.”

“You protested too quickly.” She struggled to smile. “I don’t believe you. But that’s okay. I know what I look like—”

“Stop it, Kass!” He grabbed her by the upper arms and gave her a shake. “Stop this madness. Because it is madness. I may not have been born with much, but I would never take a woman against her will, and you were forced into this marriage by your father to save his hide, not yours.”

“But that’s not true. This marriage saves mine. This marriage gets me out.” Her voice broke. Tears fell. “I hated living in that house on Nob Hill. I have never fit in, never belonged, and I’m fully aware of who I am in that family. I’m the ugly one. The embarrassing one. The one they choose to leave behind. Marrying you lets me escape that legacy. You give me a new life, and a future.”

“You’ll be no happier with me.”

She hesitated, a lump welling in her throat, a lump so big it made swallowing hurt. “I know it’s not easy to look at me—”

“Good God!” He gave her another shake. “Do not say such things. You are not your sister, but you are not ugly, not even remotely ugly.” His grip eased, his hands half sliding down her arms. “Don’t ever say such a thing again because it’s a lie and you seem far too intelligent to believe lies and mistruths.”

Her head jerked up and she searched his face. “Could you make love to me?”

“Kassiani.”

“You can’t imagine it?”

“That’s not the point.”

“But it is. If I can please you, and prove to you I’m a good wife, you might realize this is the right marriage.” Her chin lifted, her expression provocative, despite the trace of tears. “So do we have a deal, Damen Alexopoulos? I know you like making deals, so make one with me.”

“This is a terrible deal.”

“Because if you lose, you’re stuck with me?”

“No, because if you lose, you’ll apparently be weeping all over my villa and I’ll feel like a—oh, what is the word in English? A beast? An ogre?”

“A schmuck.”

“A schmuck,” he echoed.

“But I won’t be weeping and you won’t have to feel like a schmuck if you give me a fair chance. I understand your objections. I know you don’t want me. I know you have no feelings for me. But history is filled with arranged marriages and many of them turned out to be good partnerships. Beneficial relationships. Why can’t we be one of those?”

“So how do we know who wins?”

“You give me to dawn. If we consummate our marriage tonight, I win. If we don’t, you win, and you can have your security return me to the villa first thing in the morning.”

He sighed and dragged a hand through his thick dark hair, rifling it on end. “Do you have a plan, kitten?”

“I do. I’m going to seduce you.”

CHAPTER THREE

HE HADN’T COME to the bedroom to make love to his new wife. He’d come to send her home, and yet she was fierce and stubborn, determined to fight for this marriage.

So different from Elexis, who hadn’t even bothered to show up for the ceremony. So different from Elexis, who couldn’t even hold a conversation with him. Kassiani could hold a conversation and more. She was fierce, smart, eloquent. She would have been an incredible trial attorney. She’d be amazing in the boardroom.

Maybe that’s why he was here, sitting in one of the leather chairs in the master bedroom, telling Kassiani to unpin her hair and then shake it out, before letting her try to entertain him.

He was intrigued by her, curious as to her next move.

Her next move proved to be a rather awkward, but earnest, dance in front of him.

She was still wearing his robe but every now and then a lapel slipped open, revealing the pale slope of a full breast, or a knee and thigh.

He hadn’t allowed himself to think of her as a woman before this, because she hadn’t been his woman, but as she danced, her hips slowly, sensually gyrating, her arms lifted over her head, eyes half-closed as she swayed, he couldn’t look away. He was fairly certain she’d never done this before, which was maybe what made her efforts so appealing. He hadn’t thought he’d find her arousing, and yet he was hard, and growing harder as she danced and swayed, using her body to entice him.

He watched her from beneath heavy lids, body heating, blood humming in his veins. He’d wanted to be done with her. He’d come to his room to dispense with her, and yet here she was, dancing as if her life depended on it. As though he were a sultan, and she a disgraced member of his harem.

And perverse as the thought was, that, too, aroused him. The only way he felt anything, anymore, was through sex. Hard, carnal sex. Sex threaded with power. Sex laced with pain. He hadn’t always been this way. He’d been...normal...once.

He’d had feelings, and tenderness. But that had been stripped from him in his teenage years, along with his pride, leaving only failure and shame.

It’s why he wanted to marry Elexis. She was hard. He wouldn’t break her. But Kassiani...she was entirely something else.

And she was entirely something else right now, as she slowly sank down, going to her knees before him. Her hands rested lightly on his knees and her head tipped back to look up into his face.

He didn’t know what she saw in his face, but whatever she did see, it emboldened her. She ran her hands lightly up his quadriceps, her palms warm against his thighs. Reaching his hips, she lightly stroked down, brushing the inside of his thighs. His shaft throbbed. He felt as if he would burst out of his skin in a moment. His virginal little bride was not acting so very virginal in that moment.

It had been a long time since he’d been so turned on. A long time since his chest felt heat and warmth along with his groin. Normally only his erection worked, but tonight his entire body heated and thrummed as her hands stroked back up his thighs, moving toward his zipper.

Damen had to steel himself to keep from making a sound.

He watched, fascinated, as she unzipped him and reached into his cotton briefs to draw him out. He was long and thick and he pulsed in her soft, warm hand.

He wanted to tell her to wrap her fingers around him. He wanted to tell her how to stroke him—firmly, from the base of his shaft to the tip of his rounded head. He wanted what he wanted, and yet, he was also curious to see what she’d do next, and how she intended to satisfy him.

Her fingers slowly curved around him and she lowered her head to touch the tip of her tongue to the head of his shaft.

He stifled his growl of appreciation as her tongue lapped at him, licking the throbbing tip as if he were a lollipop or ice-cream cone.

It was all he could do not to rock his hips. He wanted to be in her mouth. He wanted the pressure of her hand and the wet heat of her mouth, and she wasn’t quite getting the hang of it yet, but just watching her lick him, and suck him, made him hungrier, and fiercer.

She was trying so hard to please him, and she was applying herself so passionately to the task, that every flick of her tongue across his swollen head made him groan inwardly. She was either a splendid actress, or she genuinely enjoyed sucking him. The fact that she might just enjoy this...night...had never once crossed his mind. He hadn’t ever thought of her wanting him, or desiring him, and watching her lavish him with attention made him want to explode.

He stopped there, aware that these weren’t the thoughts of a considerate husband.

Not that he’d ever be a truly good, considerate husband, because he wasn’t a good or considerate man. He was too bitter and broken. Too ambitious. Too driven. He’d come from nowhere, having risen up from nothing—literally olive trees and a stone hut in the middle of a hilltop orchard—and then even that had been taken from him, taken by those who believed money made them better than others, that money gave them the right to use and abuse.

It’s why he’d worked so hard his entire life—to distance himself from the victim he’d been.

Having hit the absolute bottom, he knew he’d never be weak again.

His world was strength, power, domination. It was his one and only goal.

He wanted a family to prove that he’d overcome a dark past, and he had the means to ensure they’d be safe. They’d be comfortable, guarded, protected. His children would be able to go to the best schools. They’d have the best security. They’d never be exploited. But he needed a wife who would love them, because he didn’t love. He didn’t have normal emotions and feelings, and there was no room for feelings, just as there would be no romance.

Should he take Kassiani to his bed, it would be strictly business. Just like consummating the marriage was serious business. The moment he took her virginity, there would be no going back. The moment he claimed her, there would be no annulment.

Did he want to claim her?

He studied her from beneath heavy lids, his erection aching in her hands, the thick tip damp from her mouth.

Even though she was the wrong bride, she was still a Dukas and the marriage still gave him what he wanted—all of North America’s West Coast ports. All the Dukas ships. All the trade agreements.

Part of him wanted to punish the Dukas family for playing him, but that would be cutting off his nose to spite his face. Kassiani would meet his needs just as well as Elexis. Maybe even better because his children did need a mother who would feel and care and fight for them. They’d need one parent with a heart.

He should just take her to bed, and claim her. He wouldn’t be rough with her, even though he liked hot, hard sex. Sex without apology. He’d never made love to a woman and felt love. Sex—intercourse—was a release, and it felt good after he climaxed, but there wasn’t much else he felt in the bedroom, other than loathing. He’d never tell anyone but he could barely tolerate being touched. He could barely endure being inside his skin. It was always a fight, a battle, to not remember the past. To not let memories resurface.

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