Greek's Pride: The Stephanos Marriage / A Passionate Surrender / The Greek Bridegroom

‘Thank you,’ Alyse responded with ill-concealed mockery, watching as he crossed the kitchen before disappearing down the hallway.

She heard the slight snap of a door closing, followed by the muted sound of an engine being fired and a vehicle reversing, then silence.

Suddenly the whole day lay ahead of her, and with at least three hours before Georg was due to waken again, she hurriedly finished her coffee and made her way towards the foyer.

Mounting the staircase, she slowly explored the four bedrooms and adjoining bathrooms, plus a guest suite, all beautifully furnished and displaying impeccable taste.

Returning downstairs, she wandered at will through the lounge, formal dining-room, guest powder-room, and utilities, and merely stood at the door leading into an imposing study, noting the large executive desk, computer equipment, leather chairs and an impressive collection of filing cabinets. There were also several design awards in frames on the wall, witness to Aleksi’s success.

From there she moved towards the kitchen, discovering another flight of stairs leading from an informal family room down to a third level comprising a large informal lounge, billiard-room, gymnasium, and sauna. Wide glass sliding doors from the lounge and billiard-room led out on to a large patio and free-form swimming-pool.

The colour-scheme utilised throughout the entire home was a combination of cream and varying shades of pale green and peach, presenting a visually pleasing effect that highlighted modern architecture without providing stereotyped sterility.

A thorough inspection of the pantry, refrigerator and freezer revealed that there was no need to replenish anything for several days, and a small sigh of relief escaped her lips as she emptied cereal and milk into a bowl and sat down at the breakfast table with the daily newspaper.

Afterwards there was time to tidy the dishes before Georg was due to waken, and with determined resolve she moved through the master suite to the sitting-room and quietly retrieved her bags. She was damned if she’d calmly accept Aleksi’s dictum and share the same suite of rooms!

It was relatively simple to transfer everything upstairs, although as the day progressed a tiny seed of anxiety began to niggle at her subconscious.

Dismissing it, she set about preparing an evening meal of chunky minestrone, followed by chicken Kiev and an assortment of vegetables, with brandied pears for dessert.

It was almost six when Alyse heard Aleksi return, and her stomach began a series of nervous somersaults as he came into the kitchen, which was totally ridiculous, she derided silently.

‘I hardly expected such wifely solicitude,’ he drawled, viewing her slight frown of concentration with amusement.

Alyse glanced up from stirring the minestrone and felt her senses quicken. He looked strong and vital, and far too disturbingly male for any woman’s peace of mind.

Her eyes flashed him a glance of deep sapphire-blue before she returned her attention to the saucepan. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t prepare a meal?’

‘Of course not,’ Aleksi returned smoothly as he leaned against the edge of the servery.

She could sense the mockery in his voice, and hated him for it. ‘Stop treating me like a naïve nineteen-year-old!’ she flung with a degree of acerbity.

‘How would you have me treat you, Alyse?’

‘With some respect for my feelings,’ she returned fiercely.

‘Perhaps you’d care to elaborate?’

It was pointless evading the issue, and besides, it was only a matter of time before he’d discover Georg’s absence from the nursery.

She drew a deep breath, then released it slowly. ‘I’ve moved my belongings into an upstairs bedroom.’

The eyes that lanced hers were dark and unfathomable.

‘I suggest you move them back down again,’ he drawled with dangerous silkiness.

‘No. I refuse to allow you to play cat to my mouse by dictating my sleeping arrangements.’

‘Is that what I’m doing?’

Oh, she could hit him! ‘Yes! I won’t be coerced to conform by a display of sheer male dominance.’

‘My dear Alyse, you sound almost afraid. Are you?’

Now she was really angry, and sheer bravado forced her to counter, ‘Do I look afraid?’

‘Perhaps you should be. I don’t suffer fools gladly.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

At that precise moment a loud wail emitted through the monitor, and Alyse threw Aleksi a totally exasperated look.

‘It’s time for his bottle.’

‘I’ll fetch him while you heat it.’

Momentarily defeated, she retrieved a fresh bottle from the refrigerator and filled a container with hot water.

Aleksi was a natural, she conceded several minutes later as he caught up the bottle, took a nearby chair and calmly proceeded to feed Georg.

‘He should be changed first,’ Alyse protested, meeting those dark challenging eyes, and heard him respond with quiet mockery,

‘I already have.’

There was little she could do except give a seemingly careless shrug and return her attention to a variety of saucepans on the stove, although it rankled that he should display such an adeptness when she had so readily cast him into an entirely different mould.

Alyse settled Georg in his cot while Aleksi had a shower, and it was almost seven when they sat down to dinner.

‘This is good,’ he remarked.

Alyse inclined her head in silent acknowledgment. ‘What would you have done if I hadn’t prepared a meal?’

His gaze was startlingly direct. ‘Organised a babysitter, and frequented a restaurant.’

‘I mightn’t have wanted to go.’

‘Perversity, Alyse, simply for the hell of it?’

She couldn’t remember arguing with anyone, not even Antonia at her most difficult. Yet something kept prompting her towards a confrontation with Aleksi at every turn, and deep within some devilish imp danced in sheer delight at the danger of it all.

‘No comment?’ he queried.

She met his gaze with equanimity. ‘I have a feeling that anything I say will be used against me.’

‘Perhaps we should opt for a partial truce?’

She was powerless to prevent the wry smile that tugged at the edges of her mouth. ‘Would it last?’