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

‘Dear heaven,’ Alyse breathed unsteadily, ‘you don’t believe in wasting time!’

‘I’ll give you a contact number where I can be reached,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, relaying a set of digits she had to ask him to repeat as she quickly wrote them down. ‘Any questions?’

‘At least ten,’ she declared with unaccustomed sarcasm.

‘They can wait until dinner tomorrow evening.’

‘With everything I have to do, I won’t have time for dinner!’

‘I’ll collect you at six.’

There was a click as he replaced the receiver, and Alyse felt like screaming in vexation. What had she expected—small talk? Revenge, she decided, would be very sweet!

Removing the receiver, she placed a call to Miriam Stanford and asked if the manageress could work the entire day tomorrow, informed her briefly of her intended plans and promised she would be in at some stage during the afternoon.

Alyse slept badly, and rose just after dawn determined to complete a host of household chores, allowing herself no respite as she conducted a thorough spring-clean of the large old home, stoically forcing herself to sort through Antonia’s possessions—something she’d continually put off until now.

It was incredibly sad, for there were so many things to remind her of the happy young girl Antonia had been, the affection and laughter they had shared. Impossible to really believe she was no longer alive, when celluloid prints and vivid memories provided such a painful reminder.

Despite her resolve to push Aleksi Stefanos to the edge of her mind, it was impossible not to feel mildly apprehensive as she settled Georg with the babysitter before retiring to the bathroom to shower, then dress for the evening ahead.

Selecting an elegant slim-fitting off-the-shoulder gown in deep sapphire blue, she teamed it with black stiletto-heeled shoes, tended to her make-up with painstaking care, then brushed her shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair into its customary smooth bell before adding a generous touch of Van Cleef & Arpels’ Gem to several pulsebeats. Her only added jewellery was a diamond pendant, matching earstuds and bracelet.

At five minutes to six she checked last-minute details with the babysitter, brushed a fleeting kiss to Georg’s forehead, then moved towards the lounge, aware of a gnawing nervousness in the pit of her stomach with every step she took.

Now that she was faced with seeing him again, she began to wonder if she was slightly mad to toy with a man of Aleksi Stefanos’s calibre. He undoubtedly ate little girls for breakfast, and although she was no naïve nineteen-year-old, her experience with men had been pitifully limited to platonic friendships that had affection as their base rather than any degree of passion. It hardly equipped her to act a required part.

Yet act she must—at least until she had his wedding ring on her finger. Afterwards she could set the rules by which the marriage would continue, and for how long.

Punctuality was obviously one of his more admirable traits, for just as she reached the foyer there was the soft sound of car tyres on the gravel drive followed almost immediately by the muted clunk of a car door closing.

At once she was conscious of an elevated nervous tension, and it took every ounce of courage to move forward and open the door.

Standing in its aperture, Aleksi Stefanos looked the epitome of male sophistication attired in a formal dark suit. Exuding more than his fair share of dynamic masculinity, he had an element of tensile steel beneath the polite veneer, a formidableness and sense of purpose that was daunting.

‘Alyse.’ There was an edge of mockery apparent, and she met his gaze with fearless disregard, blindly ignoring the increased tempo of her heartbeat.

Just a glance at the sensual curve of his mouth was enough to remember how it felt to be positively absorbed by the man, for no one in their wildest imagination could term what he had subjected her to as merely a kiss.

Conscious of his narrowed gaze, Alyse stood aside to allow him entry, acknowledging politely, ‘Mr Stefanos.’

‘Surely you can force yourself to say Aleksi?’ he chastised with ill-concealed mockery.

Alyse choked back a swift refusal. Steady, she cautioned—anger will get you precisely nowhere. Opting for the line of least resistance, she ventured evenly, ‘If you insist.’ Remembering her manners, she indicated the lounge. ‘Please come in. Would you care for a drink?’

‘Unless you’d prefer one, I suggest we leave,’ he countered smoothly. ‘I’ve booked a table for six-thirty.’

Without a further word she preceded him to the car, allowing him to reach forward and open the door, and she slid into the passenger seat, aware of his close proximity seconds later as he slipped in behind the wheel and set the large vehicle in motion.

‘Where are we dining?’ As a conversational gambit, it was sadly lacking in originality, but anything was better than silence, Alyse decided wildly as they joined the flow of traffic leading into the city.

‘My hotel.’

She turned towards him in thinly veiled astonishment. ‘I could have met you there.’

‘Thus preserving feminine independence?’ Aleksi mocked as he spared her a quick assessing appraisal before returning his attention to the computer-controlled intersection.

‘I’ll take a cab home.’

One eyebrow quirked in visible amusement as the lights changed, and he eased the car forward. ‘Impossible,’ he declared smoothly, and she felt like hitting him for appearing so damnably implacable.

‘Would it dent your chauvinistic male ego?’ she queried sweetly, and heard his soft laughter.

‘Not in the least. However, as my fiancée and soon-to-be wife, you can’t be permitted.’

She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them seconds later. It was the only defence she had in masking the incredible fury she harboured against him.

As if he sensed her inner battle, he slid a tape into the cassette-deck, and she leaned back against the headrest, her eyes fixed on the tall city buildings and the wide sweep of river.

Alyse was familiar with the hotel, if not the restaurant, and when they were seated she permitted Aleksi to fill an elegant flute with Dom Perignon, sipping the superb champagne in the hope that it might afford her a measure of courage to face the evening ahead.

Aleksi conferred with the waiter over the menu, asking her what she wanted before placing their order, then he leaned well back in his chair and subjected her to a veiled scrutiny.

‘Aren’t you in the least curious to learn what arrangements I’ve made?’

She lifted her glass and took a generous swallow before replacing it on the table. ‘I have no doubt you’ll reveal them soon enough.’ Tiny aerated bubbles of alcohol set up a tingling warmth inside her stomach and began transporting them through every vein in her body.

‘We have an eleven o’clock appointment with the register office on Thursday, followed by a consultation with Hugh Mannering at two, and at three we’re due to present ourselves at the Family Services Department. On Friday we catch the late morning flight en route to the Coast,’ he informed her cynically.

The enormity of what she was about to undertake seemed to assume gigantic proportions, and she suffered his raking scrutiny with unblinking solemnity.

‘This is no time for second thoughts,’ Aleksi stated in a voice that was silky-smooth and infinitely dangerous. ‘The reason for a marriage between us is obvious,’ he declared hardily, ‘and will be accepted as such.’

‘Am I supposed to get down on my knees and kiss your feet in sheer gratitude for the privilege?’ Her voice dripped ice, and she saw his blue-grey eyes assume a chilling ruthlessness.

‘Careful,’ he warned dangerously. ‘I insist we present a veneer of politeness in the company of others.’ He directed her a swift calculated appraisal that sent shivers of fear scudding the length of her spine. ‘In private you can fight me as much as you like.’

‘In private,’ she conceded with ill-concealed fury, ‘I shall probably render you grievous bodily harm!’

‘Don’t expect me not to retaliate,’ he drawled.

‘Do that, and I’ll have you up for assault!’

His eyes narrowed and assumed the hue of a dark storm-tossed sea. ‘I wasn’t aware I alluded to physical abuse.’

Her eyes widened into huge pools of incredulity as comprehension dawned, and she fought valiantly against an all-encompassing anger. ‘Abuse is still an ugly word, whether it be mental or physical,’ she said tightly.

‘Then perhaps you would be advised to keep a rein on your temper.’