Greek Millionaire, Unruly Wife

A whimper built inside her, ready to burst from her mouth, but she couldn’t let him see he still affected her. Too dangerous for her mind, her emotions, her world. She must remain immune to his charm, his magnetism, and his potent sexuality. The whimper came out like a near snort, and he shot her a glacial look.

“I-I can’t stay,” she murmured.

“You’ll stay long enough.” He leaned back, hitched up a trouser leg and crossed one leg over the other.

Cool. Powerful. Wealthy.

She reached for the drink he’d ordered, took a sip and the fizz tickled her nose, the taste of lime fresh upon her tongue. Slowly she set it back on the table, controlling the temptation to hurl it in his face. But only just.

Impeccable in his suit, he exuded a debonair flair of the lifestyle of the wealthy and the beautiful. She’d been the opposite. Casual and ordinary in jeans, halter-top and sandals, her sunburned nose magnifying her freckles. Except when the fashion pros worked their magic, transforming her into a human mannequin, and every man’s fantasy.

“I deserve an answer, Michalis.” She foolishly imagined he’d been captivated by the real her, not the plastic copy, but obviously she’d been wrong. Plastic deteriorated. And so had their marriage.

Jitters sprang inside her, and she cupped the water glass with her hands, the condensation cooling her palms. If he so easily trampled on their marriage vows, he’d just as easily demolish her life again…for no other reason than daring to challenge him…daring to leave him…daring to keep a secret.

“You do deserve an answer,” he said, his tone cool, hard. “As I do.”

“What do you mean?” She bolted upright, letting go of the glass and gripping the arms of the chair.

“Hit a nerve, have I?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” she fired back, but didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Perhaps this’ll refresh your memory, yineka mou.”

“Don’t call me that…I’m not your wife.” Not if he could betray her like he had, the image branded her brain cells.

“Technically, you are—” He leveled her with a look that rammed her ribs into her backbone, squashing her heart. “—until the divorce papers are signed.”

Her heart flipped, but then relief rushed through her. He didn’t know. He was here because of the divorce.

She squinted at him. “You could’ve done that from Greece.”

“What, and not see your beautiful face again?” he mocked. “You can have your divorce, Julia.”

“Di-ivorce.” The word grated her tongue like gravel. “Y-yes.”

“But there is a penalty.”

Her head snapped up, and she caught the stern set of his jaw, skin stretched taut across his cheekbones, the set of his mouth. His mouth had taught her such passion, created such erotic delight in her. His lips on hers, on her breast and gliding down her body, suckling her navel, and then lower to— Heaven.

Hell.

He knew.

She blinked, eclipsing the sensual images and crushing the memory beneath the gauntlet he tossed. Her freedom would come at a cost.

“I can’t imagine what it is,” she breathed out, sarcasm lacing her words, as the tremors inside her picked up momentum.

He laughed, a dry sound that sent chills up her spine.

A premonition…an astronomical price to pay.

“You can have your divorce, Julia.” His eyes glittered an ice storm, and he shot straight into her heart. “In exchange for my daughter.”

“No!” She leaped up so fast, the glass tipped over, liquid sloshing over the side onto the table. She couldn’t care less.

“I’ll see you in court then.”

Blackness undulated before her eyes, her pulse vaulted into her throat and the wool of her sweater itched her damp-sweat skin. She couldn’t beat Michalis Leonadis in a court of law … he had the money, the power, the connections. A bleat of sound from her mouth, and she gnashed it away, pulling on her inner strength that had gotten her through the last year. “I’ll see you in hell first.”

“That could be arranged,” he muttered, his words flint hard.

“Wh-hat do you mean?”

“How long did you think you could keep this from me?” he baited, fury in his midnight blue eyes.

The eyes of a hunter cornering his prey… her.

“You dare keep my child from me, Julia?”

“I-I was going to tell—”

“Enough,” he bit out. “Now sit down before you make a scene.”

She sank in the chair and clasped her hands in her lap to stop their trembling, her mind whirling. “I won’t let you take her away from me, Michalis.”

He arched an aristocratic brow. “How do you propose to stop me?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Poli kala…very well.” A cold smile. “You will return with me to Greece for one month.”

She shrank back in her chair, rejecting his words, but her heartbeat skipped and her body flamed with awareness. Shock—that must be it.

“Why?”

“Because I want to get to know my child,” he ground out. “And a three-month-old needs her mother.”

“Glad you recognize that fact.”

“And her father.”

As much as she resisted, Julia knew he was right, but couldn’t help bouncing back with, “Amy can get to know you when she’s older.”

“Amy,” he whispered, a flicker of tenderness in his eyes. “She’ll get to know me now.”

Her heart sank. “You can come and visit her here, Michalis.” She was clutching at straws.