The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife

‘I said, you won’t leave until we sort this out.’ He glared down at her, nostrils flared and jaw clenched, the epitome of male displeasure.

‘And I’ve said all I intend to say.’ Tessa snapped her teeth shut against the temptation to call him a bullying lout. ‘As far as I’m concerned we’ve covered everything. You’ve got your ring and it’s time for me to leave.’

‘Straight into the waiting arms of the paparazzi? I think not.’

The Press? What would she want with the Press? Tessa had other concerns right now, like where she’d find a bed for the night. She hoped she had enough cash to tide her over. She hadn’t counted on a side-trip to Greece when she’d begun her journey in South America.

It had been a stupid impulse after all.

‘I have no intention of talking to any paparazzi,’ she assured him. ‘So you can stop your fuming and step out of my way.’

Slowly he shook his head and she read the speculation in his dark grey eyes. Speculation and something else she couldn’t put a name to. But it made the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

‘You have no right to keep me here.’ Despite her rising anxiety Tessa’s voice sounded oddly muted, as if it came from a long distance away.

His lips curved up in a sinister smile that sent a shudder rippling down her backbone.

‘What about the right of a husband?’ he murmured. ‘A husband long-deprived of his lovely wife.’

He stepped close, bringing his powerful body flush against hers. His heat radiated into her, searing her through her shabby clothes. But it was the menace in his expression that sucked the breath from her.

‘You’ll find that here in Greece we take the responsibilities, and the rights of a husband very seriously.’

Something sizzled in his eyes, molten hot and arresting. She felt her reaction to it, a feverish trembling, right through her body. That frightened her more than anything else.

‘Then I hope your fiancée knows exactly what she’s getting herself into.’ Tessa angled her chin up and met his eyes, glare for glare. But she had no hope of outfacing him. This man had all the self-confidence of a deity.

‘Enough! This is getting us nowhere.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ She sidestepped him and took a single pace towards her luggage. Then two things happened simultaneously: a large hand manacled her elbow and her shaky legs crumpled beneath her.

She heard a rush of incomprehensible invective as the room tilted wildly and his dark eyes—large and disbelieving—swam before her.

She stiffened her knees, bracing herself against the dizziness. But already he was bending, scooping her up in his arms and tucking her tight against his deep chest.

He encompassed her. Those strong arms curved underneath, supporting her. His powerful chest cushioned her. And his eyes…his eyes meshed with hers, lustrous and compelling. She felt as if they looked into her very soul. Everything about him radiated male dominance: from the bunched muscles binding her close to the arrogant jut of his nose. Even the hint of dark shadow on his hard jaw reinforced the impression of primal machismo.

And something else, something unsettling eddied around her, drawing her nerves to attention. It was the scent of his skin, she realised as she gazed at his mask-still features. Like tangy pine and earthy male. Intriguing. Inviting. Tempting.

Blood pulsed loud in her ears as she stared at him. Her heart throbbed heavily, echoing the steady beat she felt deep inside his chest. Her mouth dried as the world shrank to just the two of them. Close, closer…

‘There’s no need for this,’ she whispered, surprised to find her voice so reedy. ‘I can stand.’

She might not have spoken.

‘What have you been doing, starving yourself?’ One large hand splayed across her ribcage, right under her breast. His fingers slid experimentally across her ribs and back again, almost as if he were counting them. He scowled, his brows tilting at a ferocious angle.

‘When did you last eat?’

‘I had something on the plane.’ A cup of coffee and dry crackers somewhere over the Atlantic. Flying still made her nervous and that was all she’d been able to stomach.

She looked into his dark gold face, into his gleaming, furious eyes, and felt a tightening in her chest, as if someone had squeezed her heart.

‘Christos! What did you intend to do? Make a grand entrance and then collapse at my feet in a bid for sympathy?’

Tessa wriggled in his arms, trying to loosen his hold so she could stand on her own feet. But his grip remained firm and unforgiving.

Anger surged through her. He had no cause to treat her like this. She’d only been trying to do the right thing, and she’d come all this way!

So much for the famed Greek hospitality she’d heard about.

‘I have no interest in your sympathy, Mr Denakis.’ She spat out the words, tasting bitter disillusionment on her tongue. ‘I don’t know what your problem is. We don’t have a relationship. We never did. And,’ she cut across him as he opened his mouth to speak, ‘I’m not interested in meeting any journalists.’ She swallowed, trying to moisten her parched mouth. Her sudden burst of energy was fading fast. ‘Now I’d appreciate it if you’d put me down.’

For a moment she saw a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. Then the impression was gone, ousted by the sheer arrogance of his flared nostrils and raised brows as he looked down his impressive, aristocratic nose at her.

‘A fine performance, madam. Truly masterful. But you and I both know it was just that: a performance. We’re bound to each other, until such time as I decide how best to sever the connection.’

He swung round towards the door so quickly that the room blurred around her.

‘We will discuss this somewhere more congenial. I, for one, have no desire to continue this discussion here.’

He looked away and she was left gazing up at the under-side of his sharply angled jaw, the plane of his cheek and his well-shaped ear.

It was like looking at the man she remembered, but through a distorting glaze of anger. Briefly she wondered if Stavros Denakis had an evil twin. Or whether the man she’d met four years ago had been an impostor.

But it was the same man. There could be no mistaking the way her heart accelerated just being close to him, or the hint of longing that tinged her anger.

It was appalling but true: Tessa had never reacted to anyone else this way. Now she discovered that the only man to make her feel so aware was an egotistical, bad-tempered brute!

It was typical of her luck.

‘You find this situation humorous?’ His deep voice rumbled up from his chest, a vibration she felt as well as heard. ‘Believe me, you won’t find it funny by the time I’ve finished with you.’

‘No!’ Tessa gritted her teeth while she searched for a calm tone. ‘I don’t find it at all amusing to be manhandled.’

He stopped in mid-stride and stared down at her. An overhead light haloed his hair, turning him into a dark vengeful angel. His eyes were impenetrable.

‘Is that a threat?’ he asked softly. ‘A hint of harassment litigation to come?’

The suppressed violence in his tone made her shiver. She clenched her hands against the impulse to do something stupid such as try to claw her way out of his unforgiving grip. She knew instinctively that he’d have no compunction about using his superior strength to stop her.

‘I have no interest in a lawsuit. But that doesn’t mean you can ride roughshod over me.’ She snatched a quick breath before her courage faded. ‘Now, I’d be grateful if you’d put me down. I prefer to walk.’

For a long moment he scrutinised her with all the hauteur of a prince surveying some upstart lackey. Tessa felt the blood warm her cheeks, so intense was that survey. And so disapproving.

Then his mouth tilted up at one side in a self-satisfied smirk that disappeared almost before she registered it.

‘You’ll find it easier to do things the way I wish them to be done.’