Bride Behind The Billion-Dollar Veil (Crazy Rich Greek Weddings Book 2) Read online

  ‘And you’d continue to travel,’ she murmured, her heart rate slowing to something approaching normal.

  He nodded. ‘I don’t see any reason to make huge changes to either of our lives, behind closed doors.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t see other women?’ she blurted out, wondering why that bothered her so much. Pride, she supposed. Pride, and her experience with Clinton, and having seen what her father was capable of. She didn’t want to be used by some man, made a laughing stock. Not again.

  ‘I do not really “see” women now,’ he pointed out with a lift of his shoulders.

  ‘But you couldn’t be photographed flirting with some supermodel at a party,’ she insisted. ‘If the whole point is to fool Mr Carinedes, then you’ll need to play the part of a doting newly-wed as much as I will.’

  ‘This is not exactly a hardship,’ he said with a dip of his head. ‘As you know, I am very motivated to succeed in this.’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered, gripping her wine-glass stem as though it were a lifeline.

  ‘I spend most of my time in Greece,’ he continued, as though this matter were dealt with. ‘I presume once I have arranged suitable accommodation for your mother, you will be able to join me there?’

  Her mouth dropped open, her tongue darting out to trace the line of her lower lip; she barely noticed the way his eyes fell to the gesture.

  ‘Alice?’

  ‘I...yes.’ She nodded, painfully aware of the void that was her private life.

  He took a moment to consider that and then smiled, relaxed, relieved. ‘So?’ He lifted a brow and her heart kerthunked hard against her chest in a vicious, imperious warning.

  Because only a fool would fail to see the danger here. The danger in agreeing to marry a man like Thanos Stathakis, with more charm and sex appeal in his little finger than any man had a right to possess.

  ‘It would be purely business,’ she insisted. ‘I wouldn’t be marrying you for any reason except to get out of debt. And to help you,’ she admitted grudgingly, because it was true.

  He nodded. ‘And the same could be said for me. Shall we shake on it to seal the deal?’

  And while there might have been a thousand and one more traditional and romantic ways to cement a marriage proposal, shaking hands perfectly suited the sensible, commercial nature of this agreement.

  Just business, not personal, and for no longer than a year.

  Alice could most definitely live with that.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ‘YOU COULD CONSULT with a lawyer,’ Thanos offered.

  Alice lifted her gaze from the divorce contracts, a look of cool determination in her gaze. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if she was in control of her life, she felt as if things were going to be okay, and she desperately needed to believe that. Already, things were so much better. Two days after her agreeing to marry Thanos, a bed had been made available for Jane Smart at an upscale nursing home, only an hour’s drive from Manhattan.

  Thanos had flown Alice to inspect the facility in his helicopter, and she’d been completely floored by how perfect everything was. And how considerate he was, in taking her to inspect it himself.

  More to the point, it had all been so easy. Money, apparently, opened doors, and Thanos had the kind of money that made anything possible. He’d smoothed the way to this marriage completely, paying Alice’s rent for a year so she wouldn’t feel rushed to move out of her own place, giving her time to think about where to store her things, what she wanted to take with her into her new life.

  And now, in his Manhattan penthouse, he was taking the time to meticulously explain the divorce settlement to her.

  If only she were able to give it one hundred per cent of her focus!

  If only she weren’t completely distracted! By the spectacularly expensive apartment—all designer furniture, black leather, polished wood, with high ceilings and glistening chandeliers, and a wrap-around balcony that showed stunning views of Manhattan and Central Park.

  And beyond the apartment, there was Thanos.

  Dressed casually.

  In jeans and a simple T-shirt, he was undeniably handsome, but it was more than that. It was his thoughtfulness, his astuteness, his attention to detail and the rich, husky tone of his voice. She found her pulse throbbing ferociously in her veins as she toyed with the pen, so perhaps he interpreted her actions as hesitation, rather than a desire not to keep staring at his pectoral muscles.

  ‘Do you think I need to see a lawyer?’ she threw the question back to him, turning her attention to the papers once more.

  ‘No,’ he shook his head once. ‘It is as we discussed. But if you doubt my word...’

  ‘I don’t.’ She couldn’t say why, but she trusted him. She smiled distractedly. ‘It’s just a big thing to do, you know.’

  ‘Yes.’ He reached over and curved his hand over hers, so heat spun through Alice. ‘But it is just make-believe, and this contract proves that you have a way out.’

  She nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘At any point, either of us can file these papers and commence divorce proceedings.’ His smile barely changed his expression. ‘Think of it as an insurance policy.’

  She nodded, lifting her hand and running it through her dark hair. It was pulled back in a bun, but suddenly her head ached and she needed to release the tension pain. She pulled the pins out on autopilot, as she did every evening, slipping them into the pocket of her battered leather handbag—which was completely incongruous with this designer space—before running her fingers through the long, dark waves. Her eyes remained on the divorce papers.

  It was all exactly as he’d said on the day he’d proposed.

  She skimmed the clauses, reassuring herself with growing disbelief of the amount he’d offered, and the property value cap—which was frankly exorbitant!—in the instance that none of his apartments suited her, and finally hovered the pen over the signature line at the bottom.

  Her eyes lifted to his and, with the sense that she was stepping over the edge of the cliff, she added her signature.

  Thanos expelled a long, steady breath, then stood up from his chair, coming to stand behind Alice and leaning forward so he could add his own signature to the papers. Only, the action brought his powerful frame so close to hers, he was almost wrapped around her, and suddenly her blood was pounding even harder and faster, making any kind of thought impossible. She swallowed to bring moisture back to her instantly dry throat.

  ‘So, that’s it?’ she murmured, her eyes scanning his.

  ‘Almost.’

  ‘What else is there?’

  He reached into his pocket, pulling out a black velvet box with a world-renowned jeweller’s name emblazoned across the top in gold writing.

  Alice looked at the box without making an effort to touch it.

  ‘Your ring,’ he prompted after a beat.

  Only then did Alice slowly push her hand across the table, her fingers trembling as she cracked open the lid.

  She couldn’t have said what she’d expected. Certainly something worthy of the bride of Thanos Stathakis. But this?

  It was ludicrous. She lifted the solitaire ring from its velvet enclosure. Without any real experience it was impossible for Alice to say if the diamond was ten carats or twenty, only that it was as large as two of her thumb nails put together, and so bright it almost blinded her. The setting was simple, six claws and platinum gold.

  She felt Thanos’s eyes on her as she slid it onto her finger, the weight of it strangely familiar, something she felt she could get used to.

  ‘It’s...lovely.’ She swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat.

  Thanos shrugged. ‘I thought it appropriate.’

  ‘It is.’ She looked up at him, a small frown tweaking her lips. ‘Is this what the women you date would generally expect?’
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  ‘A ring like that?’ He lifted his shoulders once more. ‘I suppose so.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not just the ring. The whole deal.’ Her hand gestured towards the divorce settlement. Thanos’s eyes followed the gesture.

  ‘No, agape. If this were a real marriage, my wife would undoubtedly expect a lot more.’

  Shock was reflected in Alice’s expression. ‘Seriously?’

  ‘You know what I’m worth?’

  Alice tilted her head to the side. ‘A lot.’

  His laugh was short and sharp. ‘Yes.’

  ‘So? You think that means your wife—your real wife—would be automatically entitled to a huge share of that wealth?’

  His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. ‘It’s a moot point, Alice. This will be my only wedding, you my only wife.’

  ‘Why?’ She stood, and then regretted it, when the simple action brought her body so close to his.

  ‘Because I,’ he said slowly, his eyes boring down on hers, the air between them suddenly crackling with an awareness that Alice assured herself was completely one-sided, ‘am not made for marriage.’ His smile covered a deeper confession, Alice was sure of it.

  ‘In what way?’ It was curiosity that fired her to ask it.

  ‘In every way.’ His own response was teasing, and she had a feeling he was hiding himself away from her, covering a truthful response with a glib joke.

  Then again, who was she to pry? This wasn’t a real marriage. They weren’t even friends. It was business—purely business.

  ‘So, all that is left now is to seal the deal.’

  Alarm jolted down her spine, as for a moment, out of nowhere, the image of Thanos kissing her crashed into Alice’s mind. Her knees began to tremble and her pulse was thready and inconsistent. Her eyes, when they lifted to his, were half shuttered, her lips parted in a breathy, silent, invitation she had no idea she was issuing.

  ‘Seal the deal?’ she heard herself whisper.

  He made a throaty noise of agreement, and then took a step backwards, away from her, a desertion that had every single one of her senses screaming with disappointment.

  ‘I thought we would go out.’

  ‘Out?’

  ‘Dancing. Getting your photo in the paper is the quickest way to let news of our engagement slip to the world.’

  Alice’s eyes shifted—reluctantly—from Thanos’s face to the boulder she now wore on her finger, then to the reflective wall panel just a little way across the room. She’d come directly from the office and still wore an ill-fitting brown suit. It was hardly the stuff of elegant nightclubs, nor the kind of thing Thanos’s real fiancée would, she presumed, be caught dead in.

  ‘Dancing.’ She found herself nodding. ‘I can meet you at a club...’

  He frowned. ‘But you’re right here.’

  ‘I need to get changed first,’ she pointed out, looking down at her figure.

  His eyes narrowed and a smile played about his lips. ‘So you do.’ Then, with a confident gesture of his tanned fingers, he motioned for her to join him as he strode through the penthouse.

  Curious, she did exactly that, until he paused in the middle of a large, cream-coloured bedroom.

  A dress was hanging against another door, a slinky red colour with spaghetti straps, made of silk, that she suspected would fall to mid-thigh, at best, and which looked to dip dangerously low over the cleavage.

  It was the complete opposite of anything she’d ever buy for herself, and yet she found herself fascinated by its delicate construction, its beautiful design.

  ‘This is for me?’ She flicked her gaze to his in time to catch a hint of speculation in his eyes.

  He nodded though, brusque and efficient. ‘There are others,’ he offered, ‘but this is the one I liked best.’ His wink did funny things to her gut. ‘I’ll be waiting outside.’

  She nodded, not quite equal to making a verbal response, pulling the dress from the hanger a little uneasily and running her fingertips over the sensual material. A quick inspection of the wardrobe showed several other dresses, all of them designer, all somehow—mysteriously—in her size. Then again, Thanos was no doubt an expert in women’s bodies—he could probably guess her measurements to within a millimetre’s accuracy despite the fact he’d only ever seen her in business suits.

  She scanned all of the dresses, and though there were some which were far more conservative and in keeping with her normal dress code, she found her attention continually returning to the strappy red he’d expressed a preference for. Finally, with a guttural noise of surrender, she undressed and pulled it on over her head, catching her reflection almost as soon as it had settled on her body.

  And she forze.

  Because Alice never wore anything revealing. She never showed more than a hint of cleavage, nor anything above the knee.

  Her mother had been strict when Alice was growing up. ‘Men are only ever after one thing, Alice Smart. Don’t be like I was—fooled by any handsome man with a silver tongue.’

  And the one time Alice had defied her mother and gone out in a skimpy halter-neck top and miniskirt, she’d met Clinton—and everything her mother had said had been brought vividly to life.

  Now, as a grown woman, and despite the fact Jane Smart was no longer able to deliver sermons on virtue and men’s general failings, Alice remembered the lessons that had been drummed into her again and again, and chose to wear clothes that hid her figure completely.

  This dress hid nothing.

  And yet she liked it.

  With a small smile on her pale pink lips, she dropped her gaze to the ring she wore and breathed out. Because she was ‘engaged’. She wasn’t going to fall prey to some guy who just wanted to get her into bed.

  She was going out with the man she planned to marry. What did it matter that the marriage was a ruse?

  Holding onto her determination, she fluffed her hair around her face, so it fell a little wild and abandoned, and pinched her cheeks until they had a pleasant flush.

  Several pairs of high heels were lined up in the closet, and this time they were in different sizes, so when she settled on a pair that fitted—strappy sandals with a small heel—she felt a little like Cinderella.

  Just as she began to contemplate what her own handbag would look like with this chic outfit, she spied another wardrobe. A quick inspection showed several handbags had been laid out on shelves, as well as jewellery that she knew—despite its glistening diamonds—wasn’t costume.

  Swallowing, she grabbed a clutch purse that matched the shoes, and turned to check her appearance one more time.

  A stranger looked back at Alice.

  A woman who was confident and in control. A woman who was sexy. The word came to Alice out of nowhere and a hive of bees seemed to take up residence in her belly, buzzing and swarming through her body.

  Thanos was sexy.

  He was sex appeal on a pair of very strong, long, lean legs.

  She, Alice, was a fraud. A woman dressed up to play a part. And she needed to remember that; for her own sanity and emotional well-being, she couldn’t let herself be suckered into this fantasy. She couldn’t let herself believe, even for a moment, that this kind of thing could ever really happen to her.

  It was just an act.

  And soon, it would all be over.

  * * *

  She moved like an angel.

  The discovery that his sensible, staid assistant actually had a killer figure and danced as though she’d been born with a beat inside her bones gave him the first tremor of alarm he’d felt since acquiescing to Leonidas’s suggestion and proposing a marriage of convenience.

  Alice had been easy to imagine as his wife.

  Alice, as she’d been in the office, had been attractive in a way you’d never really notice. Nice face, nice eyes, nice smile, but there wa
s nothing remarkable about her. He’d imagined her as the perfect bride to show Kosta how much he’d changed, without really demanding too much of Thanos’s attention, once they were married.

  But now, as she moved on the dance floor, her body being pushed close to his by the crush of people dancing around them, he began to see that perhaps he’d miscalculated.

  She might not be anything like his usual lovers—blonde, leggy, slender and oftentimes dull as anything—but she was also nothing like he’d imagined either, and Thanos didn’t generally like surprises. He dealt in known quantities and he had every reason to worry that Alice was not precisely that.

  The music seemed to pulse through her, so she danced with her eyes shut, her generous lips pouted into a half-smile, half-hum, her arms moving rhythmically, and her breasts pushed against the fabric that had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

  He moved his own body, hoping that it would distribute his blood a little more evenly throughout, rather than letting it pool in one limb only.

  Her hips were mesmerising. She swayed and rolled them as if it was second nature and the very unwelcome image of her completely naked, straddling him, rolling her hips in just this manner, filled his mind so he knew he was fighting a losing battle trying to bring his blood back to his body.

  Theos. What was the matter with him? He went dancing with women all the time. He could control this. He had to.

  Besides, he’d brought her here to be photographed, so word could get around that he was getting married. It was hardly going to work if he spent the whole night forcibly keeping her at arm’s length so she wouldn’t realise that desire was flooding his body.

  ‘Thank you for this,’ she said, lifting up onto tiptoes to offer the words closer to his ear. Her breasts brushed his torso and he had to pull back a little so she wouldn’t feel the force of his arousal against her gut.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For everything.’ Her smile was quick to spread. He stared at it, desire like a drug now. ‘Mom, mainly. But also for this. I haven’t been dancing in a long time. I’d forgotten how much I love it.’