The Greek's Bought Wife

Tina froze, unable to utter so much as a word for several long seconds before anger ignited and threatened to explode. “You have to be joking.”

“One million dollars.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again as she found her voice. “Go to hell,” she managed.

“Two million.”

Incredulity was uppermost. She turned, only to come to a halt as her arm was caught in a firm grasp.

His eyes held hers, their expression impossible to read. “Sit down. Please,” he added with chilling softness. “There are other options.”

“I don’t see how you can top it,” Tina ventured savagely.

“Marriage.” He paused fractionally. “To me.”

Legally wed, but he’s never said…

“I love you.”

They’re…

The series where marriages are made in haste…and love comes later….

Look out for more WEDLOCKED! wedding stories available only from Harlequin Presents®

His Wedding-Night Heir

by Sara Craven

#2509

The Greek’s Bought Wife

Helen Bianchin

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

NIC LEANDROS eased the powerful Lexus down into the underground parking area beneath a luxurious apartment building located in Sydney’s suburban Double Bay, slid into a reserved bay and cut the engine.

His cellphone rang, and he quickly checked the caller ID, uttered a husky oath, and let the call go to MessageBank.

Sabine…again. How many times had she called today? Four…five? The woman was becoming obsessive, he admitted with a wry grimace. He hadn’t expected an easy end to the relationship. But how long would it take for Sabine to understand no meant precisely that?

It had been months since he’d cut the ties, politely refusing her veiled invitations until her protestations reached desperation point, whereupon he refused to take any of her calls. For the past several weeks she’d virtually stalked him, resorting to SMS text messaging several times a day and turning up wherever he happened to be…in his favoured Melbourne restaurants, at two parties and a fundraiser.

He’d issued a warning, followed it with legal action. Yet Sabine still persisted.

Nic crossed to the bank of lifts. He had no need to check the apartment number or the floor on which it was situated, for it was one of several owned by the Leandros Corporation and occupied until very recently by his young half-brother.

Sixteen years his junior, Vasili had been a much-loved addition to the Leandros family twenty-one years ago. To his father Paul, a delight, and the apple of Nicos’ adored stepmother Stacey’s eye.

Nic reflected on the affection they’d shared, despite the gap in their ages. Vasili’s upbringing had followed an identical path to his own…strict and loving. How else could it be beneath Stacey’s guiding hand?

Yet Vasili had developed a recklessness Nic had never aspired to. He’d sailed through scholastic studies, gained a degree in business management, and entered the Leandros Corporation at the bottom of the corporate ladder…as Nic had, succeeding without any seeming effort.

Vasili had remained in Sydney acquiring corporate skills, while Nic was based in the Melbourne head office, in between extensive travelling between America and Europe.

Yet their bond had remained a close one, despite the vagaries of distance.

Good-looking, fun, Vasili had had a love of life, girls, and fast cars…in that order.

Tragically, it had been the fast car—a Lamborghini—that caused Vasili’s death little more than two weeks ago.

Nic had been aware of the numerous girls who sought Vasili’s company, his bed, and his share of the Leandros fortune. Although Tina Matheson had been the first girl Vasili had invited to move in with him.

What Nic hadn’t known was news of Tina’s pregnancy. Stacey had been Vasili’s only confidante in that piece of information, the day before his untimely death.

There had been no mention of it…hell, no visible sign of it as the slender auburn-haired girl had stood at Vasili’s grave-side ten days ago.

Among the grief-stricken, Tina had stood apart. Cool, controlled, with a fragility he’d instinctively felt the need to ease.

Yet he’d been polite on introduction, distant as befitted the solemnity of the occasion, and had stood in silence as Stacey had issued Tina with an invitation to join the family in a private wake.

Tina’s refusal had surprised him. Given the circumstances, he’d thought she’d use any advantage to further her relationship with the Leandros family.

If he was honest, he’d have admitted he wanted to see her again in less sombre surroundings, for there was some indefinable quality about her that intrigued him.

Her stance, the way she held herself aloof. The classical, fine-boned features, cream-textured skin. Eyes the colour and brilliance of emeralds, deep, unfathomable.

Untouchable, he’d reminded himself.

His half-brother’s woman. The mother of Vasili’s unborn child.

The existence of a Leandros grandchild had provided an element of hope for Paul and Stacey Leandros. The child of their child. A child who would share Vasili’s inheritance, and take its rightful place in the Leandros family.

Both Paul and Stacey had assumed Tina would welcome their support, their help. Dammit, their unconditional affection and love.

Except Tina had politely refused Stacey’s, then Paul’s advances. Something that merely accelerated Stacey’s grief to an inconsolable level.

Now it was Nic’s turn to attempt to sway Tina’s decision. At any cost, Paul had determined.

Money. Sufficient of it could buy most anything, anyone, Nic decided with wry cynicism as he passed through security and rode the lift to the penthouse level. Besides which, he was a shrewd judge of character, a lauded strategist…and he had a few contingency plans.

It was simply a matter of determining the one most likely to succeed, and putting it into action.

Seconds later he crossed the marble-tiled floor to a set of ornate double doors.

Nic pressed the call button, then held it down when no one answered.

Nic wondered at Vasili’s fascination with the woman carrying his child, for at twenty-seven Tina was almost six years Vasili’s senior, and the only child of a widowed mother whose remarriage five years ago had resulted in a move to Noosa on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.

Tina had a record of average scholastic achievements, a love of sport, life. A flair for fashion had led to a managerial position in an up-market Double Bay boutique owned by her mother. A collection of friends, but no long-term boyfriend.

Dammit, why didn’t she answer?

Impatience creased his features as he withdrew his cellphone, hit auto-dial, and queried Paul as to when the apartment had last been checked.

His father’s answer brought forth a frown. The morning following Vasili’s death.

Two weeks ago?

‘Given the current situation,’ Paul relayed, ‘Stacey refuses to interfere with Tina’s live-in arrangement.’ His voice sharpened. ‘Give me a few minutes and I’ll call you back.’

Nic didn’t have to wait long for Paul to relay the building manager was on his way with a master-key.

The apartment offered stunning views over the bay, but Nic took little notice of the sparkling nightscape beyond floor-to-ceiling glass as he thanked the manager and closed the door behind him. Instead he walked through the lounge, eyes alert for any signs of occupation, only to discover there was none.

Vasili’s clothes hung in one of two large walk-in robes, and there was an assortment of male toiletries atop a double marble vanity unit in the master en suite.

The sight of them hurt, like a stake through the heart. Curiously more so than when he’d received the tragic call from Paul; more so even than the funeral. For now there was the visual attestation Vasili would never return to claim what was his…clothes, possessions, or the joy of holding his child.

A muscle bunched at the edge of his jaw as he crossed to the second robe, only to discover on opening the door that it was empty.

Nic moved through the apartment, checking a second bedroom, a third…and discovered both were empty. There were no clothes in either wardrobe or chest of drawers. No sign of any feminine possessions in each adjoining en suite.

A husky oath escaped from his lips.

Tina Matheson had moved out.

It was obvious Paul hadn’t considered keeping tabs on her. Dammit, he’d only given the need a fleeting thought, then dismissed it, sure she’d milk the situation, eagerly taking whatever Paul and Stacey offered. Hell, even demand more in a quest to set herself up for life by virtue of the child she carried.

He checked the dining-room, the kitchen, spotted a set of keys resting on the marble bench-top and reached for them, examining each before weighing the set in one hand. Then he slid them into his jacket pocket and made a phone call.

The name Leandros garnered respect. It also opened doors to data not easily available to the general public.

Within fifteen minutes Nic had the information he needed.

It didn’t take long to drive the few kilometres to a small private hotel where Tina Matheson was registered as a guest.

Locating her room took mere minutes, and when there was no answer to his knock he repeated the action, harder, more forceful than before.

He was about to give it another try when the security chain was removed, the lock disengaged, the door opened sufficiently for him to glimpse a female clutching a large bath-towel around her slender form.

Nic registered damp auburn curls piled high on her head, pale features, and a pair of brilliant emerald-green eyes.

Eyes that hardened somewhat as they ascertained his identity.

‘Go away.’

The door slammed shut, and he stifled a lurid oath.

‘Do that again,’ he warned with dangerous silkiness, ‘and I’ll disregard common courtesy.’

He heard the security chain engage, then the door opened a fraction. ‘I could take that as a threat and call the police.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘Don’t tempt me.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

‘Not if I can help it.’

‘We can have a conversation now,’ Nic offered with deceptive mildness, ‘in relative privacy. Or,’ he paused slightly, ‘I’ll arrive at your place of business tomorrow and hold it there.’

There was a perceptible silence, then Nic heard the locks disengage, and the door swung open.

She was more petite than he recalled, but then she was barefoot. The bath-towel had been discarded in favour of a towelling robe.

She looked tired, and there were dark smudges beneath her eyes. The result of grief, lack of sleep…or both?

‘Another Leandros emissary?’ Tina took in the tall, broad male frame clothed in superb tailoring, forced herself to meet and hold those dark, almost black eyes…and felt all her protective self-defence instincts rise to the fore.

‘We have been introduced.’

The voice held a faint American-inflected drawl, and she suppressed a shiver of unease. Nic and Vasili Leandros might share the same father, but as men they were as chalk to cheese.

Whereas Vasili had borne an air of insouciant youth, Nic Leandros possessed an indefinable quality that meshed ruthlessness and power…and combined it with a sexual chemistry no woman could successfully ignore.

Raging hormones had to be the reason why she felt vaguely off balance. It couldn’t be the man unsettling her.

‘You want to conduct this conversation on the doorstep?’

Oh, Lord. She’d just emerged from the shower. ‘You’ll have to wait while I get dressed.’ And she shut the door in his face.

It took only minutes to step into underwear, jeans, add bra and tee shirt. She didn’t bother with her hair. As for make-up…forget it.

He was there when she pulled back the front door, his tall frame seeming even more threatening than before.

Men of Nic Leandros’ ilk weren’t used to having doors shut in their faces, she perceived with a certain wry humour as she silently indicated he could enter.

‘Thank you.’ His voice was dry, and held a degree of impatience as he followed her into the suite.

Tina turned to face him, aware of the need to take control.

‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’

One eyebrow rose, and his gaze remained steady. ‘Dispense with polite conversation?’

She lifted a hand and smoothed back a wayward fall of hair, only to silently damn the visible indication her nerves were twisting every which way but loose.

‘Why pretend civility when we have opposing agendas?’ Tina queried, and saw those dark eyes harden fractionally.

‘Can you blame Stacey and my father for wanting to share a part of their grandson or granddaughter’s life?’ he queried quietly.

‘Do you think I don’t know where this is leading?’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘Let’s see.’ She tilted her head and began listing probable possibilities. ‘What comes next? Any minute soon you’ll present several attractive reasons why I should agree to your parents’ desire to assign the Leandros name to Vasili’s child.’ She paused and drew in a deep breath.

Nic Leandros dominated the room, his presence a compelling entity that disturbed her more than she was prepared to admit.

‘If I agree, the heat will be on for it to be raised and educated according to Leandros tradition.’

‘And that’s a problem…because?’

He didn’t get it. ‘I’ll lose control.’

‘Any decisions made will, of course, be reached by mutual agreement.’

‘Oh, please.’ Tina raked his features with evident cynicism. ‘Give me a break.’ Her gaze speared his. ‘How long will it take your parents to lodge an unfit parent complaint after the birth?’ She closed her eyes, then opened them. ‘Deny that’s the master plan.’

A muscle tensed at the edge of his jaw. ‘I doubt anything of the sort has entered Stacey’s mind.’

‘But it will, eventually.’

Her fierceness and her fragility were a contradiction in terms, something he found intriguing.

‘When I return to work and put the babe into a day-care nursery?’ She felt as if she were on a runaway train. ‘Employ sitters on the rare occasion I feel the need to socialise?’

‘It’s my parents’ intention to provide handsomely for the child’s welfare.’ He waited a beat. ‘The ball is in your court. Name your terms.’

‘And they’ll be met?’ She lifted a hand and ran it wearily over her hair. ‘Thanks, but no, thanks.’

He’d tabled each stumbling block and had a strategy for every one of them. It was just a matter of time…‘Perhaps you’d care to elaborate why?’

‘I don’t see how a one-night stand qualifies the right for the child to assume its deceased father’s name.’ If she’d hoped to shock, she gained no visible reaction from his expression. ‘Especially when I had no intention of making it my own.’

Nic’s eyes became hooded. ‘Vasili meant nothing to you?’

Tina took her time with the question. ‘We played the boyfriend/girlfriend game.’ She paused fractionally. ‘It was…convenient. For each of us.’ She had no obligation to relay why.

‘The age difference didn’t bother you?’

Her chin tilted a little and her eyes acquired a dangerous gleam. ‘Are you implying Vasili was my toy boy? We were friends.’

‘Yet you moved in with him.’

Explanations tended to become complicated. Yet Nic Leandros was entitled. How else would her decision make any sense?

‘I sold my apartment,’ Tina defended. ‘I was in negotiations to buy another. Vasili suggested I move in with him instead of securing a hotel room or renting short-term.’ It had seemed so logical at the time, and she’d insisted on contributing towards food and utilities.

‘And shared his bed,’ Nic accorded in a hateful drawl.

Her chin tilted a little, and her eyes blazed green fire. ‘Once.’

Dammit, that was all it took. Once. A little too much champagne, a friendly kiss that had become more, and somehow they’d ended up in the same bed.

She dimly remembered voicing a half-hearted protest as instinctive wisdom had fought against the persuasiveness of Vasili’s mouth, his hands. Then it had been too late. The sex had been less than noteworthy. Not that she’d had much experience to compare it with.

All the pent-up emotion of the past few weeks caught up with her. ‘I should disillusion your mother…sorry, stepmother?’ she offered the correction. ‘Your father? Paint a false picture of a relationship that was only friendship?’ She was on a roll, unable to stop. ‘Enlighten them that the conception of their coveted grandchild was a mistake? Dammit,’ she said forcefully, ‘a meaningless, forgettable mistake.’ She wanted to hit something, throw something. Anything to rid the impossible anger that burned within…at herself, for being so senseless.

‘Obviously there were no precautions taken.’

Tina heard the words, and only just refrained from hitting the man who uttered them. ‘Obviously.’

‘Yet you’ve taken no steps to abort the foetus.’

She drew in a sharp breath and pressed a protective hand to her waist. ‘No.’

Nic’s eyes narrowed. ‘Would you have, if my parents had been unaware of the pregnancy?’

Tina didn’t hesitate. ‘No.’

The insistent ring of a cellphone sounded loud in the silence of the room, and Tina watched as he withdrew the unit, checked the caller ID, and registered his irritation as he thrust the cellphone back into his jacket pocket.

‘Have you eaten?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Dinner.’ His voice held an element of impatience.

He was talking of food? ‘I don’t see that’s a relevant question.’

‘It’s relevant if you haven’t eaten.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m suggesting we share a meal.’

‘Again…why?’

She irritated and fascinated him at the same time. She was also the first woman in a long time to refuse his invitation.

‘Go change. I’ll make a reservation.’

Tina closed her eyes, then opened them and shot him a fierce glare. ‘Are you usually this dictatorial?’

He extracted his cellphone, and hit a speed-dial button. ‘I’m known to get what I want.’

‘Really?’ She was singularly unimpressed. And remained so at the ease with which he secured a table.

Nic regarded her steadily. ‘You want to argue with me?’

‘Heaven forbid any female would dare,’ Tina offered facetiously, and caught a glimpse of something that was almost humour in those dark eyes.

‘You being an exception?’

‘Count on it.’ She glared at him, then she crossed to the door. ‘I want you to leave.’

His expression remained unchanged, except there was a sense of innate power, a strength of will, evident beneath the surface.

Her gaze arrowed in on his, and didn’t waver. She could feel her spine stiffen…literally. ‘I don’t want to share a meal with you.’

‘Same destination,’ Nic stated. ‘Separate cars.’

‘That’s a persuasive ploy?’

‘A compromise. It’s almost seven, neither of us have eaten, and we’ve yet to reach a satisfactory resolution.’

‘My decision is made.’

‘One that concerns you. However, there’s a child’s life at stake. Your child.’ He paused slightly. ‘But indisputably also my brother’s child.’

She was hungry. In the past few days she’d developed a heightened sensitivity to the smell of food. The thought of ordering a meal of her choice that she didn’t need to prepare or cook was enticing. Besides, it was clear Nic Leandros wouldn’t let up any time soon.

‘Go wait outside while I change.’

‘And have you lock the door behind me?’ His expression held wry cynicism. ‘Collect what clothes you need and get dressed in the en suite.’

She wanted to kill him…or at best do him physical harm. Yet it was no contest. A venue they drove to in separate cars was preferable to the intimacy of a hotel suite.

At least she’d be free to walk out of a restaurant undeterred. Whereas here it would be a different matter entirely. And, while his presence was unlikely to pose a threat, she had the distinct feeling he’d play any game by his own rules.

‘There’s a problem?’

Tina sent him a scathing glare. ‘I’m deciding what method I should use to render you physical harm.’

His mouth quirked in silent amusement, and she bit back an attempt at childish retaliation as she crossed to the storage unit.

With quick, economical movements she collected black silk evening trousers, an emerald green silk camisole, matching jacket, and headed for the en suite.

A few minutes, minimum make-up, a vigorous brush through her hair, and she was done. When she emerged it took only seconds to step into stiletto heels, then transfer money and keys into an evening purse.

Tina was conscious of his appraisal, and deliberately arched an eyebrow. ‘Shall we leave?’

They rode the lift down to the basement car park, and within minutes Tina followed Nic’s black Lexus to the trendy heart of Double Bay, parked, then accompanied him into a small, intimate restaurant filled with patrons.

The maître d’ greeted Nic with the obsequious fervour reserved for a favoured patron, personally escorted them to a table, saw them seated and summoned the drink steward.

Prestigious, known for its fine cuisine, and expensive, Tina acknowledged as she cast the room a casual glance.

The service was excellent, and she requested mineral water, chose a starter as a main meal, and settled back in her chair.

The steward brought their drinks, served them with deferential good humour, then retreated.

‘You eat here often.’ It was a statement, not a query, and Nic subjected her to a solemn appraisal.

‘Whenever I’m in Sydney.’

Uh-huh. The Leandros corporation had its main base in Melbourne. Vasili’s parents resided there. So did Nic, Vasili had relayed…in between business trips to New York, London, Athens and Rome.

‘I imagine you’ll acquaint your parents with my decision?’

He fingered the stem of his wine goblet with deliberate distraction. ‘When we’re done with it.’

She held his gaze. ‘There is no when.’

‘What if I were to suggest an alternative option?’ Nic paused, then added, ‘Or two.’

She took a sip of icy liquid. ‘There are none.’

‘Adoption,’ he presented with deceptive mildness. ‘For a mutually agreed sum.’

Tina froze, temporarily unable to utter so much as a word for several long seconds before anger ignited and threatened to explode. ‘You have to be joking.’

‘One million dollars.’

She opened her mouth, then closed it again as she found her voice. ‘Go to hell,’ she managed in a fierce undertone as she collected her evening purse and stood to her feet.