The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride

‘I’m afraid I don’t have a moment…for you,’ Lukas said, his tone chillingly soft.

‘No…No…Just wait…’ She flung one hand out in appeal; it was ignored. ‘You don’t understand. Someone else is involved. We have a mutual friend.’ Her words came out stilted, strained. Awful. Why hadn’t she thought of a better way to handle this?

‘I don’t think we’ve ever met,’ Lukas said after a tiny pause. ‘And I doubt we have any mutual friends.’

They were from different worlds; it was glaringly obvious. He was accustomed to wealth, privilege, power—light years away from her small suburban existence in Wales.

He had power; she had nothing.

Except Annabel. The realisation gave her a much-needed boost of courage.

‘No, we haven’t met,’ she agreed, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. ‘But there is someone we both know—both care about. A friend…’ Although, according to Leanne, she and Lukas had been a lot more than friendly.

For a moment Rhiannon’s mind dwelt on that strangely unwelcome possibility—Lukas and Leanne, bodies entwined, fused. Lips, hips, shoulders, thighs. Passion created, enjoyed, shared. They’d made a child together.

She shook her head. She didn’t want to think about it. Hadn’t even asked Leanne about the details. A weekend of passion, Leanne had said with a sigh, before naming the father.

Take care of her for me. Don’t let her down.

Love her.

That was what this was about. That was why she had come.

Annabel needed love. Real love. The love of her father.

‘Someone we both care about?’ Lukas repeated, and this time Rhiannon heard more of the steel. The incredulity. Her heart rate sped up, doubled. She nodded.

‘Yes…And if you’d just give me a moment in private, I could explain. It would be…worth your while.’

He froze, and Rhiannon felt as if her heart had frozen as well. For a moment everything seemed suspended, still, that terrible moment before the storm hit and the lightning struck.

‘Worth my while?’ he repeated. It was a simple statement, yet it held a wealth of unpleasant meaning. Alarm prickled along Rhiannon’s spine, tingling up her nape as Lukas made eye contact with someone over her shoulder. Something was happening. Something bad.

He gave a brief, almost indiscernible nod, then his icy gaze snapped back to her—unyielding, unmerciful.

She suppressed a shiver.

Had she actually thought this was a gentle man?

‘I’m just trying to be polite,’ she explained. ‘By requesting some privacy—’

‘I can be polite,’ he replied with silky, lethal intent. ‘As a courtesy, I’m letting you know that you have five seconds before my security guards escort you from this room and this resort.’

Shock shot through her, followed by scathing disbelief and, worse, hurt. She should have expected this, but she hadn’t. After that first moment she’d thought he might be kind.

Different.

She’d believed what the tabloids said—the image of the man they exalted.

She was a fool.

‘You’re making a mistake.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Please…I don’t want anything from you—at least nothing that you wouldn’t be prepared to give—’ She grabbed his hand; he removed it with distaste.

‘Is that so? Because I’m prepared to give you nothing. Goodbye, Miss Davies.’

Before Rhiannon could form a reply, one last appeal, a hand clamped none too gently on her arm.

‘This way, miss.’

He was kicking her out! Humiliated fury washed through her in sickening waves as the security guard tugged her firmly from her stool. She stumbled to her feet, threw a hand out to the bar to steady herself.

Lukas Petrakides watched impassively with cool grey eyes.

Rhiannon hated him then.

‘You can’t do this,’ she said in a furious whisper, and he raised one eyebrow.

‘Then you don’t know me very well.’

‘I don’t want to know you! I want to talk to you!’

The guard was tugging her backwards, and Rhiannon was forced to follow him, stumbling, while a murmur of curious whispers and titters followed her, surrounded her in a mocking chorus.

Lukas watched, arms folded, eyes hard, expression flat.

This was her last chance. Her only hope.

‘You have a baby!’ she shouted, and was rewarded with a ripple of shocked murmurs in the crowd and a look of stunned disbelief on Lukas’s face before she was pulled through the doorway and out of sight.

CHAPTER TWO

YOUhave a baby.

Lukas barely registered the din of speculative gossip that rang out around him. Someone spoke to him, an excited jabber. He merely shrugged before forcing himself to reply politely.

You have a baby.

Absurd. Impossible. The woman was a liar.

He knew that—knew she was just another common blackmailer, a petty thief looking for a handout.

He’d seen them, dealt with them before. He’d recognised the patter as soon as she’d started, the female flattery disguising the threat underneath.

Mutual friends. Something he needed to hear.