Bought For The Billionaire's Revenge

‘A baby between us would never be magical and wonderful,’ he responded, with such ease that she genuinely believed he hadn’t intended to be unkind. ‘It is the very last thing I would want. As for it being arbitrary...’ He shrugged his broad shoulders with an air of unconcern. ‘You seemed perfectly fine making such decisions in the past.’

‘Not about a child!’

‘You just said you don’t want to be my...baby-baker. Have you changed your mind suddenly?’ he asked cynically, his eyes drifting over her features with genuine interest.

‘No.’ She bit down on her lip. The lie—and she recognised it as such—hurt. Images of what their children might look like were hard to shake. Instantly she could see a tiny chubby version of Nikos, with his imperious expression and dark eyes, and her heart seemed to soar at the prospect.

‘Our marriage is not one of love. I can think of nothing worse than bringing a child into that situation.’

‘But in five years?’ she heard herself ask, as if from a long way away.

He shrugged insolently. ‘In five years we will either have found a way to live together with a degree of harmony, or we will hate one another and have long since divorced. It gives us time to see what’s what. No?’

She nodded jerkily. He was right. She knew he was. But as she signed her name on the bottom of the page she felt as if she was strangling a large part of herself.

‘Next?’ She forced a tight smile to her lips; her tone was cool.

‘A simple confidentiality agreement. Our business is our own. The press has a fascination with you, and I have often thought, despite what you say, that you court their interest.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’ she interrupted sharply. ‘I go out of my way to stay off their radar.’

‘Which in and of itself only heightens their attention and speculation.’

‘So I flirt with the press by hiding from them?’ She crossed her legs beneath the table. ‘That’s absurd.’

‘You are “Lady Heiress”. They call you that because of your behaviour—’

‘They call me that,’ she interrupted testily, ‘because I refuse to engage with them. After Libby died they were everywhere. I was only seventeen, and they followed me around for sport.’

She didn’t add how horrible their comparisons to the beautiful Libby had made her feel. How Marnie’s far less stunning looks had drawn the press’s derision. She had refused to court them in order to create the impression that she didn’t care, but each article had eroded a piece of her confidence until only the ‘Lady Heiress’ construct had remained. Being cold and untouchable, a renowned ice queen, was better than being the less beautiful, less popular, less charismatic sister of Lady Elizabeth Kenington.

He shrugged. ‘You will not be of such interest in Greece. Here you are a society princess. There you will be only my wife.’

Why did that prospect make everything inside her sing? Not just the prospect of marrying him, but of escaping it all! The intrusions and invasions. Freedom was a gulf before her.

‘Your parents are included in this agreement. They are to believe our wedding is a real one.’

‘Oh? I would have thought you’d like to throw the terms of our deal in Dad’s face, just to see him suffer,’ she couldn’t help snapping.

‘Perhaps one day.’ His smile tilted her world off-balance. ‘But that is my decision. Not yours.’

She furrowed her brow. ‘This agreement doesn’t apply to you?’

‘No. It is a contract for you. So you understand what is expected of you.’

‘That definitely isn’t fair.’

He laughed. ‘Perhaps not. Do you want to walk away, Marnie?’

The sting of tears was back. She lowered her eyes in an attempt to hide them and shook her head. But when she put her signature to the bottom of the page she added something unexpected.

A single teardrop rolled down her cheek and splashed onto the white paper, unconsciously dotting the ‘i’. It was the perfect addition to the deal—almost like a blood promise.

She closed the contract and pushed it across the table.

It was done, then, and there was nothing left to do but marry the man. Except, of course, to break the news to her parents.

CHAPTER THREE (#uc5bf8873-3936-5636-8282-e965fdfaa251)

‘YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.’ Arthur Kenington’s face was a study in apoplexy, from the ruddy cheeks to bloodshot eyes and the spittle forming at the corner of his mouth.

Marnie studied him with a mix of detachment and sadness. Perhaps it was normal to emerge into adulthood with a confusing bundle of feelings towards one’s parents. Marnie loved them, of course, but as she sat across from Arthur and Anne in the picture-perfect sunroom of Kenington Hall she couldn’t help but feel frustration, too.

She lifted her hand, showing the enormous diamond solitaire that branded her as engaged. Anne’s eyes dropped to it; her lips fell at the corners. Just a little. Anne Kenington was far too disciplined with her emotions to react as she wished.

‘Since when?’ The words were flat. Compressed.

‘Be vague on the details.’ That had been Nikos’s directive when they’d spoken that morning. Had he been checking on her? Worrying she was going to balk at this final hurdle? Did he think the idea of breaking the news to her parents might be too difficult?

‘We met up again recently. It all happened very fast.’

‘You can certainly say that.’ Anne’s eyes, so like Libby’s had been, except without the warmth and laughter, dropped to Marnie’s stomach. ‘Is it...?’

‘Of course not!’ Marnie read between the lines. ‘I’m not pregnant. That’s not why we’re getting married.’

Arthur expelled a loud breath and stood. Despite the fact it was just midday, he moved towards the dumb waiter and loudly removed the top from a decanter of sherry. He poured a stiff measure and cradled it in his long, slim fingers.

‘Then why the rush?’ Anne pushed, looking from her husband to her daughter and trying desperately to make sense of the announcement that was still hanging in the air.

‘Be vague on the details.’

‘Why not?’ she murmured. ‘Neither of us wants a big wedding.’ She shrugged her slender shoulders, striving to appear nonchalant even when her heart was pounding at the very idea of marriage to Nikos Kyriazis.

‘Darling, it’s not how things are done,’ Anne said with a shake of her head.

Marnie stiffened her spine imperceptibly, squaring her shoulders. ‘I appreciate that your preference might be for a big, fancy wedding, but the last thing I want is a couture gown and a photographer from OK! Magazine breathing down my back.’

Anne arched one perfectly shaped brow, clasped her hands neatly in her lap. At one time, not that long ago, Marnie might have taken Anne’s displeasure as reason enough to abandon her plans. But too much was at stake now. If only her parents knew that the wedding they were so quick to disapprove of was their only hope of avoiding financial ruination!

‘You don’t like the press. That’s fine. But our friends. Your family. Your godmother...!’

‘No.’ Marnie didn’t flinch; her eyes were tethered to her mother’s. ‘That’s not going to happen. Just you and Dad.’

‘And Nikos? Which of his family will be there?’ Anne couldn’t quite keep the sneer from her voice.