Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife Page 4

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

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

  “Then you must also remember—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “We’re it.” He shot her a lopsided grin, and dang it, it still made her heart rate go into overdrive. And just because of that, there was an added edginess to her voice.

  “You’re taking a lot for granted.”

  “Am I?” He straightened to his six-foot height and studied her head to toe, sending prickles of awareness through her. “Figured you could handle first mate basics.”

  “Not sure I remember how,” she murmured.

  “I’ll help—”

  “No.”

  He probed her features with his shadowed gaze, dipped to her breasts, then lower at the apex of her thighs. A sweep of the length of her legs to her feet, then his lazy gaze eased its way back up her curves to her face and settled on her mouth.

  She licked her lips.

  He drew in a forced breath.

  Every spot he’d branded her with his hot gaze, sizzled, and it had nothing to do with the sun beating down upon them. But she had to be strong and not give in to his magnetism, his sexuality, his—charisma.

  “Don’t provoke me, Michalis.” She spun away, her words no defense against the tsunami of sensation washing over her. He’d always been able to turn her on with one look, one touch…her breath jammed in her chest…one kiss.

  His sexy smile.

  But although her body thrummed to a tempo of the senses, her mind stayed resolute, denying the attraction, her heart sealed behind a wall of indifference.

  “And why not?” He came up behind her, the silent tread of his Nikes not giving her any warning, and encircled her waist, his mouth nuzzling her nape. A rush of air filled her lungs, and she allowed it to ease between her teeth, her pulse leaping out of sync.

  She could not, must not have any feelings…feelings of the finer sort for him. This stranger she’d married had destroyed her a year ago and now was about to fell her a second time using their daughter as ammo.

  A flick of his tongue behind her earlobe, then a puff of his breath sensitized her nerve endings. She could so easily lean back into him, reach up and slide her fingers in his hair, turn in his arms, lift her face to his, feel his mouth on hers—

  She clenched her hands, girding her resolve not to succumb to his sensuality and jerked away, eliminating the friction of his powerful legs against hers, the hair chafing her bare thighs, another stimulant of his male potency.

  A hiss between his teeth, his probing gaze pinning her to the deck, his hands still on her shoulders.

  “I-I’m going down below,” she blurted, the words a gasp of sound.

  “We set sail in five. Be ready.”

  She propped her sunglasses on her visor and favored him with a cool look. “Aye, aye, Cap’n.” Flouncing past him, she scrambled down the stairs to the galley, the echo of his chuckle drifting down to her and making her skin bounce with goose bumps.

  She rubbed her arms with her hands, and avoiding the adjacent sleep-quarters, paused in the middle of the cabin. “Steady, girl.” Since the air conditioning hadn’t kicked in yet, it was stuffy, and brushing her moist palms on her backside, she made a beeline for the icebox. Yanking the door open, she grabbed a can of Pepsi, flipped it open and swallowed several mouthfuls. The fizz tickled her nose and the caffeine gave her a nice little buzz.

  “Hits the spot every time.” She grinned, and cradling the can between her palms, peered out the porthole at the myriad of power watercraft docked along the wharf. Frowning, she pursed her lips and her cheeks dimpled. She should be able to handle Michalis for a few days, until she secured the trust deed for Amy. After all, she worked the catwalk with a bat of an eyelash, a sway of her hips, a tilt of her head.

  How hard could it be with Michalis? She stomped across the floor and plunked down on the plush sofa, propping her feet on the coffee-table. Rolling the can across her forehead, she slid it down her temples to her throat and brought it to rest at her cleavage, the condensation cooling her hot skin. She wasn’t good at subterfuge…detested it in fact.

  Subterfuge, or the art of deception for gain, her stripper mother had once explained, made men empty their wallets and drop their pants; then at their most vulnerable, she’d cash out. By next morning, her mother had packed them up and bussed them into another town, a new strip joint and another sucker.

  An anguished sound burst from Julia’s mouth, and she closed her eyes. Eventually, the FBI had caught her mother, locked her in the slammer and assigned Julia to a foster home. Somehow, her mother had managed to beat the rap.

  A quick phone call telling Julia she’d be back for her after trying her luck overseas, had been an empty promise. Julia shouldn’t have been surprised, but at eleven, she’d felt abandoned, unwanted…unloved.

  Raising the can to her lips, Julia took another sip, the fizz of liquid quenching her thirst and easing the lump in her throat. She’d never seen her m
other again. The only memento, a mangled photo of them she’d kept in her wallet.

  Julia batted the sting from her eyes. She wanted better for her and Amy…a home, a sweet place to call home.

  A sigh wrenched from her mouth, and she scanned the room, backtracked, and squinted at a photo propped upon the shelf beneath the porthole. A frown, a blink, then a series of blinks, and she banged the can on the table, cola sloshing over the top. She scrambled up and seized the picture in a two-handed chokehold.

  A happy home with Michalis was not in the cards. A tremor of seismic proportions shook her every cell, but she forced herself to look, lest she forget, lest she be lulled into a false sense of security.

  “Once a cad, always a louse.” The words snapped off her tongue and tainted the air with resentment.

  In the photo, the dark-haired young woman leaned into him, her mouth pressed to his cheek and her eyes sparkling. Michalis looked down at her with indulgence, a protective arm slung around her shoulders. Julia swayed, the memories pummeling her mind.

  The picture blurred.

  A forced breath erupted from her, and she fluttered her lashes to clear her vision. In the photo, another man stood in the shadowed doorway of the seaside Cabaret with the flashing neon sign.

  “No doubt his security turning a blind eye to the tryst,” Julia hiccupped, her chest tightening. Her eyes fixated on the damning words, ‘Efharisto, you’ve changed my life! M’agape, M.’

  Thank you and my love. Julia understood the basic Greek words that slayed her.

  Julia smacked the photo back on the shelf and gripped the edge. Blackness danced before her, and sucking in life-giving oxygen, exhaled in a burst of passion, trying to regain her composure.

  “Awfully quiet down there.” Michalis’ deep voice drifted to her from above but that only spiked her ire.

  She glared out the porthole at the horizon, the sea a golden hue with flecks of sun-fire, and rubbed tension from her nape with quivery fingers. The sound of a motor launch setting out to sea fractured her thoughts, and a stiff smile cracked her mouth. She turned away to get his beer from the fridge, her smile turning to a chuckle, and then a high-pitched laugh, stripping gloss from the teak cabin walls.

  “Hey, you okay?” he hollered down the stairwell, his footsteps echoing above her.

  “Uh…yeah,” she murmured, then added a lilt to her voice. “Yep, be right up.”

  She heard him marching to the helm station to take the wheel, and then, “Anchors away!”

  A second later, the motor revved and the boat lurched forward, sending Julia lunging for the sofa to keep her bearings. Once the rhythm of the engine hit its groove, she found her sea legs and paced the confines of the cabin. She choked the bottleneck in her hand and cast the picture a last cursory glance. Definitely, she’d have to find a way to best the big ’n mighty Michalis Leonadis.

  But she’d not do it with her stinging tongue and cold shoulder.

  She twisted the top off the bottle, took a refreshing swallow of beer, and then trashed it. Another soft drink was a safer bet. She had to be focused, sharp. Her mother had left her with a few gems of wisdom when it came to the opposite sex, if she dared use them. She squashed the warning from her mind and thought of Amy’s future.

  Crinkling her brow, she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. She’d disarm the wealthy magnate with the art of seduction—a sour taste tinged her tongue, but she paid it no heed. Charm, honeyed words, womanly wiles…her sexuality. And when he least expected it, whammo!

  What if it backfired? The rapid tempo beat in her brain, but she rejected the signal for caution.

  Once Amy’s inheritance was secure, she’d take her baby and bolt; Michalis could hire the Trojan army to come after her for all she cared.

  Score even!

  Chapter 6

  “Michalis mou.” Julia gritted her teeth, pinned a smile on her face and forced the words out. “Would you like some mezethakia?” She held out the tray of snacks and an ice-cold Athenian beer.

  “What’s this now?” He shot her a tentative glance and resumed navigation. “Greeks bearing gifts?”

  “Gifts, yes.” She favored him with her dimpled cheek, but he didn’t catch it, his attention on the ocean. “Greek, no.”

  “A mere technicality.” He twirled the wheel in his hands, his gaze straying back to her. “You married a Greek.”

  A silent beat, broken only by the rush of waves against the bow slicing through the water.

  “Should I be on guard, Julia?” he mocked, seizing the bottle of beer.

  She averted her gaze, set the tray on the stool and grabbed onto the doorframe to steady her legs. “Perhaps it is I who must be on alert.”

  “Perhaps.” He tilted the bottle to his mouth, took a swig and smacked his lips in appreciation, underscoring his devil may care attitude.

  That one word delivered in such a casual tone, almost too cavalier, sent a frisson of unease through her. Abruptly, she turned her back to him, staring out to sea; the rhythm of the boat slicing through the water calmed her nerves, and she almost laughed at her foolish imaginings. So much so, that for the next couple of hours she actually enjoyed the ocean excursion.

  Soon after, the windmills overlooking Mykonos town came into view to the backdrop of whitewashed buildings scaling the mountainside. Julia blew out a breath, awed by the beauty of Mykonos, the Jewel of the Aegean.

  “A quick stop to refuel and—”

  “No tour here?” She turned halfway toward him, ignoring the pang of regret stabbing her heart. The place held so many memories for her…her and Michalis; before he so callously stripped happiness from her life.

  “No time.” He drained the bottle of beer, set it on the tray and popped a stuffed grape-leaf in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Mmm, good. Your culinary skills have improved.”

  “Nope.” She’d never been much good at cooking, and certainly had no chance to practice her hand during the short span of their marriage; the resident housekeeper and staff had taken care of all their domestic needs. “Frozen microwavable packs.”

  But what she’d lacked in the kitchen, she more than made up in the bedroom, he’d often murmured in her ear in their most intimate moments. The mere recollection had her blushing, and grasping the tray, she spun around to return below, the heat from her cheeks spreading through her body.

  “Tasty nonetheless.”

  Julia paused in her tracks, and thinking his snappy retort held a hidden meaning, tossed him a narrowed gaze. But he’d already dismissed her, concentrating on docking the super-sized cruiser alongside the quay. Fine by her. The less interaction she had with Michalis Leonadis the better.

  “A quick stop at the office to check a few things and we’ll be cruising again.”

  Her jaw nearly dropped, together with the tray in her hands. Michalis was actually clueing her into his schedule? She pressed the edge of the tray against her abdomen and muffled a chuckle. But he heard and speared her with his hard gaze.

  “You never could separate business from play.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she bit her tongue, but quick on the uptake, he nailed her.

  “Not to worry—”

  “I’m not—”

  “Once we get started with…er…play, you’ll have my undivided attention.”

  “No, thanks.”

  His laughter sailed over her, sparking both her desire and fury.

  “We’ll see, yeneka mou.”

  Her stomach plummeted, then righted. The last surprise… er …shock she’d gotten from the great Leonadis, had detonated her world, leaving her in a heap of rubble. Only the thought of her baby had kept her going step-by-step, moment-by-moment, and day-by-day. And her friend, Nina, having gone through her own woes with her Manhattan millionaire, had taken Julia in until she’d been able to get to Paris. A misty smile brushed her lips. After the baby was born, Chachee had come to the rescue with a job offer.

  A sigh ruffled from deep within her. She was glad Nin
a and Cade had worked things out and were happy. But for her and Michalis there’d be no happily ever after, not after what he’d done, then ruthlessly dared use their daughter as a gaming chip. Heartless boor. As soon as the month was over, she’d skip out with Amy—

  Her turbulent thoughts skidded to a stop, and her breath lodged in her chest. Isn’t that what her mother had done? Her hands shook, and the bottles on the tray rattled, finally tipping over. How far could she run from Michalis? And for how long?

  “Something wrong?” He tossed her a glance over his shoulder, and then focused on docking the yacht along the quay.

  “I can do without surprises,” she murmured but her words carried in the breeze.

  “I’m with you there,” he muttered, his features harsh in the sunlight.

  “Red-letter day,” she batted back, the banter somehow accentuating the weightier matter beneath. “We agree on something,”

  “Do we, Julia?” He tightened his hands on the wheel, his mouth set.

  “Is that a rhetorical question, or do you want an answer?” she challenged him.

  “It’s not, and I do.” He met and held her gaze, tapped the wheel and changed the subject. “This shouldn’t take more than an hour. We should be at the resort by late afternoon.”

  “Don’t rush your meeting on my account.”

  He chuckled at her ploy to delay the inevitable. “It’ll be an evening to remember.”

  “I can wait.”

  He laughed harder, and she stomped her way down below, shutting out his amusement at her expense.

  *

  “Mario, meet my … er…wife.” Michalis turned to the young man leaning against the convertible near the waterfront taxi station, then back to her.

  “Julia, this is Mario Alexos, my second in command and the best legal mind in the country.”

  That had her radar on alert, but she smiled at the ‘best legal mind’ as he ushered her into the back of the Porsche. Michalis slid into the front seat.

  “I’ve dispensed with the formalities of the limo, today,” Mario confessed. “It’s too nice a day not to have a run with the wind blowing through our hair, the smell of the ocean, the—”