Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks
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Ariston arrived home in a rush and went straight to the shower, emerging from his dressing room looking a vision of alpha virility, in a dark dinner suit which matched the raven thickness of his hair. He walked over to the dressing table where she sat and began to massage her shoulders—bare except for the spaghetti straps of her black dress. Instantly she felt the predictable shimmerings of desire and her nipples hardened.
‘Ariston,’ she said huskily as his fingers dipped from her shoulder to caress her satin-covered ribcage.
‘Ariston, what? I’m only making up for what I didn’t have time for this morning. And how can I prevent myself from touching you when you look so damned beautiful?’
She clipped on an opal earring. ‘I don’t feel particularly beautiful.’
‘Well, take it from me, you are. In fact, I’m tempted to carry you over to that bed right now to demonstrate how much you turn me on. Would you like that, Keeley?’
Did the leaves fall from the trees in autumn? Of course she would like it. But using sex as their only form of communication was starting to feel dangerous. The contrast between his physical passion and mental distance was disconcerting and…unsettling. Each time he made love to her it felt as if he were chipping away a little piece of her, and wasn’t she worried that soon there would be nothing of the real Keeley left? That she would become nothing but an empty shell of a woman? She fixed the second earring in place. ‘We don’t have time.’
‘Then let’s make time.’
‘No,’ she said firmly, rising to her feet in shoes which probably weren’t the most sensible choice for a pregnant woman, but this was the first time she’d met Ariston’s colleagues and, naturally, she wanted to impress. ‘I don’t want to arrive with my cheeks all flushed and my hair all mussed, not when I’ve spent all afternoon at the hairdresser’s.’
‘Then perhaps you should skip the hairdresser’s next time,’ he commented drily as he glanced at the elaborate confection of curls piled high on her head. ‘If it puts you in such a bad mood.’
It was one of those stupid little rows which spiralled up out of nowhere and Keeley knew she ought to dispel the atmosphere which was still with them when they got into their car. She wasn’t going to improve matters by sulking, was she? Laying her carefully manicured hand on his knee, she felt the hard muscle flex beneath her fingers.
‘I’m sorry I was grumpy.’
He turned towards her, the passing street lights flickering like gold over his rugged features. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said smoothly. ‘It’s probably just your hormones.’
She wanted to scream that not everything involved her wretched hormones—but she was aware that such a reaction would make a mockery of her words. She stared down at her baby bump instead, before lifting her gaze to his. Why not tell him about what else had been bugging her lately—a practical issue they could address and which might improve the quality of their lives? ‘Ariston.’
‘Keeley?’
She hesitated. ‘Do we have to have quite so many staff?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean.’
She shrugged a little awkwardly and began to fiddle with her jewelled handbag. ‘Well, we have a housekeeper, a cleaner, a cook, a driver and a secretary—as well as that man who comes once a week to water all the plants on the terrace.’
‘And? It’s a big apartment. They all have their necessary roles in my life.’
She didn’t correct him by reminding him that it was her life, too. Choose your battles carefully, she reminded herself. ‘I know that. I just thought that maybe I could, you know…help.’
‘Help?’ He furrowed his brows. ‘Doing what?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Chores. Stuff. Something to make me feel like a real person who’s connected with the world, rather than some sort of mindless doll who gets everything done for her. A bit of cleaning, perhaps. Maybe even some cooking.’ She bit her lip. ‘But when I offered to peel some potatoes for Maria the other day, she acted like I’d threatened to detonate a bomb in the middle of the kitchen.’
He seemed to be picking each word carefully, like someone selecting diamonds from a barrel of stones. ‘Probably because she didn’t think it was appropriate.’
‘And why wouldn’t it be?’
‘Because…’ He sucked in a breath and made no attempt to hide his sudden irritation. ‘You are not on my staff, Keeley, not any more. You are now the mistress of my household and I would prefer it if you acted that way.’
She sat up ramrod-straight. ‘You sound like you’re ashamed of me!’
‘Don’t be absurd,’ he clipped out. ‘But it isn’t possible to flit between the two worlds—you must realise that. You can’t be peeling potatoes one minute, and asking someone to serve you tea the next. You need to be clear about your new role and demonstrate it to everyone else, so nobody gets confused. Do you understand?’
She swallowed. ‘I think I’m getting the general idea.’
He caught hold of her hand. ‘And things will probably settle down once you’ve had the baby.’
‘Yes, probably. At least that’s something I can do,’ she said lightly.
There was a pause as he circled his thumb over her palm. ‘Though we will need a nurse, of course,’ he added.
At first she thought she must have misheard him. ‘I’m sorry?’ she said, but her heart had started to race with some dark and nameless fear as she looked into his face.
‘A nurse,’ he reiterated. ‘A nursery nurse, I believe they’re called.’
‘But…’ She could feel tiny little beads of sweat pricking at her forehead. ‘I thought since you’d been so hands-on with Pavlos, you wouldn’t want us to have any outside help with the baby. Was I wrong about that too, Ariston?’
She saw his face darken. Was he angry at the mention of his brother’s name—for her daring to bring up a subject he had very firmly closed on the night of their wedding?
‘Obviously, you will do the lion’s share but I shall be out at work for most of the day.’
‘And?’ she questioned in confusion as his voice tailed off.
His eyes briefly caught the gleam of lights as the car slid to a halt outside the restaurant. ‘And we will need a nurse who speaks Greek, so that my son will grow up speaking my tongue. For that is vital, given the heritage which will one day be his.’
His words were still reeling around Keeley’s head as they entered the upmarket Greek restaurant—one of very few in central London, or so Ariston informed her as they were led towards the best table in the room. But she didn’t care about the stunning trompe l’oeil walls painted with bright blue skies and soaring marble pillars, which made you feel as if you were standing in the middle of an ancient Greek temple. She was so reeling at this latest bombshell that she could barely take in the names of Ariston’s formidable-looking colleagues or their beautiful wives, who, to a woman, were sleek and dark and polished. She recited their names silently in her head, like a child learning tables. Theo and Anna. Nikios and Korinna.
And of course they all kept slipping into Greek from time to time. Why wouldn’t they, when it was their first language? Even though they seamlessly switched to English to include her, Keeley still felt like a complete outsider. And this was what it would be like when she had the baby, she realised as she stared down at her glass of melon juice. She would be on the periphery of every conversation and event. The English mother who could not communicate with her half-Greek child. Who remained on the outskirts like some silent ghost. She swallowed. Unless she did something about it. Started being proactive instead of letting everyone else decide her destiny for her. Since when had she started behaving like such a wuss? If she didn’t like something she ought to change it.
The men were deep in conversation as Keeley looked across the table at Korinna, who was playing with her dish of apple sorbet instead of eating it.
‘I’m thinking about learning Greek,’ Keeley said suddenly.
‘Good for you.’ Korinna smiled before lifting her narrow shoulders in a shrug. ‘Though it’s not an easy language, of course.’
‘No, I realise that,’ said Keeley. ‘But I’m going to give it my very best shot.’
She was just returning from the washroom when she crossed paths with the young waiter who had been looking after their table all evening, and he moved aside to let her pass.
‘You are enjoying your meal, Kyria Kavakos?’ he questioned solicitously.
‘Oh, yes. It’s delicious. My compliments to the chef.’
‘You will forgive me for intruding?’ he said, in his faultless English. ‘But I couldn’t help overhearing you saying you wanted to learn Greek.’
‘I do. I’m just trying to work out the best way to go about it.’
He smiled. ‘If you like, I could help. My sister is a teacher and she’s very good. She teaches at the Greek school in Camden but she also gives private lessons and is very keen to expand. Would you like her card?’
Keeley hesitated as he offered her a small cream card. She told herself it would be rude to refuse such a kind offer and that perhaps this was an example of fate stepping in to help her. They said that working one-to-one was the best way to learn a new language and this could be an empowering gesture on her part. Wouldn’t it be a brilliant surprise for Ariston if he realised she was making an effort to integrate into a culture which was so important to him?
She would show him what she was capable of, she thought. And he would be proud of her.
‘Thank you,’ she said with a smile, taking the card from the waiter and slipping it into her handbag.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ARISTON LET HIMSELF quietly into the apartment to hear the unmistakable sounds of someone slowly reciting the Greek alphabet. He stood very still. They were coming from the music room, which was situated at the furthest end of the penthouse, and they were being spoken by a voice he didn’t recognise. He frowned as he heard a second voice stumble over the letter omicron—traditionally a difficult letter for non-Greek speakers to pronounce—and suddenly realised that it was his wife who was now speaking. He began to walk along the corridor and the sight which greeted him took him completely by surprise. A beautiful young Greek girl wearing a sweater and a very short denim skirt was standing outlined against one of the giant windows and his wife was sitting near the piano, reading aloud from a textbook. They looked up as he walked in and he saw uncertainty cross over Keeley’s features as her words died away.
The smile he gave was intended to be pleasant but his words didn’t quite match. ‘What’s going on?’ he questioned.
‘Ariston! I wasn’t expecting you.’
‘Apparently not.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘And this is?’
‘Eva. She’s my Greek teacher.’
There was a pause. ‘I didn’t know you had a Greek teacher.’
‘That’s because I didn’t tell you. It was going to be a surprise.’
‘Look, I can see you must be busy.’ Eva was looking at each of them in turn and beginning to gather up a stack of papers before thrusting them hastily into a leather briefcase. ‘I’d better go.’
‘No,’ said Keeley quickly. ‘You don’t have to do that, Eva. There’s still half an hour of the lesson left to run.’
‘I can always come back,’ said Eva in a bright voice which suggested this was never going to be an option.
Ariston waited as Keeley showed the teacher out, listening to the sound of her rapid returning footsteps before she marched into the room and glared at him.
‘What was that all about?’ she demanded.
‘I could ask you the same question. Who the hell is Eva?’
‘I told you. She’s my Greek teacher—isn’t that obvious?’
‘Your Greek teacher,’ he repeated slowly. ‘And you found her…where?’
She sighed. ‘She’s the sister of the waiter who served us the night we went to the Kastro restaurant. He overheard me saying to Korinna that I wanted to learn Greek and so he gave me Eva’s card on my way back from the washroom.’
‘Run that past me again,’ he said. ‘She’s the sister of some random waiter you met in a restaurant?’
‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘You’re seriously asking a question like that?’ he demanded. ‘Think about it. You don’t even know these people!’
‘I do now.’
‘Keeley,’ he exploded. ‘Don’t you realise the potential consequences of inviting strangers into my home?’
‘It’s my home too,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘Or at least, it’s supposed to be.’
With an effort he altered the tone of his voice, trying to dampen down the anger which was rising up inside him like a dark tide. ‘I’m not trying to be difficult, but my position is not like that of other men. I happen to be extremely wealthy. You know that.’
‘Oh, yes—I know it. I’m never likely to forget it, am I?’ she retorted hotly. ‘What do you want me to do, Ariston—go around checking that Eva hasn’t pocketed one of your precious Fabergé eggs?’
‘Or maybe,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘maybe introducing you to the Greek teacher was simply a clever diversion and the pretty-boy waiter has designs on you himself?’
‘You think he has designs on me?’ She stood up and gave a disbelieving laugh as she angled her palms over the curve of her belly. ‘Looking like this? How dare you? How dare you say such a thing to me?’
Ariston let her words wash over him but instead of being irritated by her defiance, all he could think about was how ravishing she looked in her anger. Her blonde hair was spilling wildly around her face and her green eyes were spitting emerald fire and automatically he reached out to pull her into his arms. That first contact made her pupils dilate and although she had started beating her hands furiously against his chest, she moaned when he started to kiss her and she moaned some more when he palmed her nipple and felt the tip pushing hungrily against his hand. She kissed him back and her kiss was hot and hard and angry, but the beating of her fists became less insistent. He levered her closer, and jutted his hips so that she could feel just how hard he was and she writhed against him in furious frustration.
Slipping his hand underneath her dress, he felt her bare thigh and as he began to stroke his fingers up towards her panties his desire went right off the scale. Just like hers. He could hear the unsteady rush of her breath as she scrabbled at his belt, and as she slipped the notch free he felt as if he might explode. He was rock-hard and the unmistakable scent of her arousal was in the air as his slowly moving fingers reached her panties to discover they were damp. So damp. He groaned again, and so did she as he pushed the taut panel aside and slicked his finger over her honeyed flesh, confident that sex would dissolve the tension between them as it always did. Couldn’t he show her who was boss and wouldn’t her hungry body accept that, the way it always did? Her arms wound themselves around his neck and he was about to pick her up and carry her over to the chaise-longue when suddenly he came to his senses.
‘No,’ he said suddenly, his heart pounding in protest as he removed her hand from his trousers and pushed her away.
It took several moments before she spoke and when she did she looked at him in confusion. ‘No?’
‘I don’t want you, Keeley. At least, not right now.’
‘You don’t?’ she questioned, before giving a disbelieving laugh. ‘Are you quite sure about that? Isn’t that the way you like to settle any kind of disputes we have?’
He suppressed a ragged groan before forcing himself to step away from her. ‘I’m not making love to you when we’re in this kind of mood,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘I’m angry and so are you, and I fear I might be more…physical with you than I should be.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s probably not the best idea given that you’re pregnant.’
Keeley stared into his shuttered features as desire drained from her body, like water from the bathtub, and in its place came a horrible sinking realisation. Because no matter what she did or what she said—no matter how hard she tried or how long they stayed married—Ariston would always remain in command. She could learn Greek until the cows came home but it wouldn’t make any difference. She could even try to find out more about ship-owning, but she would be wasting her time. Because what she wanted didn’t count. It was what Ariston wanted which counted and it always would, because he ruled the roost and had been allowed to do so for years.
He liked her to know her place and to run everything past him first. He didn’t like strangers in the house and now she knew that, she would be expected to respect his wishes. Her home had become her prison and her husband the rigid jailer. And the reason he didn’t want to make love to her right now was nothing to do with his fears about her pregnancy. The expression on his face was as dark as the time he’d told her about his mother and suddenly she understood why. Because he didn’t like the way she was making him react, she realised.
He didn’t want to lose control or to be seen to lose control.
And she realised something else, too. That if she stayed, she would spend the rest of her life sublimating herself to his desires and his whims. The one thing she had asked for when she’d agreed to marry him hadn’t materialised. They would never be equals—and what kind of an example would that be for her son?
Smoothing her hands over her hot cheeks, she stared at him. ‘I’m done with this, Ariston,’ she whispered hoarsely.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You. Me. Us. I’m sorry. I can’t do this any more. I can’t stay in this…this mockery of a marriage.’
His smile was cruel. She hadn’t seen him look at her that way in a long time, but now she was reminded of the essential ruthlessness which lay at the very core of him.
‘But you don’t have any choice, Keeley,’ he said silkily. ‘You’re pregnant with my child and there’s no way I’m letting you go.’
She met the quiet fury in his eyes. ‘You can’t stop me.’
‘Oh, I think you’ll find I can,’ he said. ‘I have the experience as well as the wherewithal. You have nothing while I have everything. I can get the full weight of any international court to rule in my favour in a custody battle—don’t ever doubt that—though it’s a path I’d rather not take. So don’t make me, Keeley. Why don’t we just calm down and recalibrate?’ He fixed his steely blue gaze on her. ‘Perhaps I was a little unreasonable—’
‘Perhaps?’ she demanded and she realised something else, too. That people didn’t interrupt Ariston. His power had allowed him to build a wall around himself so high that nobody ever dared try. He’d made up all the rules and everyone else was supposed to just fall in and obey them. And everyone always had—until now. She was the only one who had dared to step out of line, but he couldn’t wait to make her step right back in it again. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ she said shakily. ‘This isn’t a marriage, Ariston. It’s a farce and a prison—and I’m not just talking about your lack of trust or the jailer-like behaviour you’ve demonstrated simply because I had the temerity to invite someone home!’
‘Keeley—’
‘No! You will hear me out. You will. Do you want to hear the reality of what it’s like being married to you? Of how great it really is? You spend long hours in the office—and when you’re back, at best you tolerate me. Guaranteed orgasms and the occasional trip to the theatre don’t add up to intimacy, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, because you don’t want intimacy. You told me that yourself and at the time I thought I could live with it, or maybe even change it—but now I know I can’t. Because you don’t care about me, Ariston—all you really care about is your baby. Sometimes you make me feel like a character in a science-fiction film, someone who is growing your child so that you can take him away from me just as soon as he’s born! As if I’m nothing but a damned incubator!’
‘Keeley—’
‘Will you stop trying to interrupt me?’ she yelled. ‘When I mentioned that we were completely outnumbered by staff and spoke of my desire to help with a little housework, you looked at me as if I was some kind of freak. So what am I supposed to do all day? Haunt the shops like some well-dressed mannequin while I blitz your credit card?’
‘Lots of women do.’
‘Well, not me. If you must know, it bores the hell out of me. I had a brief love affair with excessive spending before we got married, but I’m over it now. It’s an empty, meaningless existence. I’d rather give the money to charity than keep buying more overpriced handbags!’
‘Keeley—’
‘I haven’t finished,’ she continued icily. ‘You speak Greek and I can’t, which means I would always be the outsider—and when I do use my initiative to take lessons, I get accused of having the hots for my teacher’s brother!’
‘I hear what you’re saying,’ he said, sucking in an unsteady breath. ‘And I realise I overreacted. Of course you must have lessons if you want them, but at least let me choose someone suitable to teach you. You can’t just sign up with the sister of someone you’ve bumped into at a restaurant.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because they haven’t been vetted,’ he gritted out.
It was the final straw and it was at that point that Keeley knew there could be no going back. And no going forward either. Her heart was pounding fit to burst but somehow she kept her voice steady. ‘So what am I supposed to do—be stuck in here while you vet anyone I might wish to see? Do you want to build barriers around me as high as the ones you’ve built around yourself?’
‘Now who’s overreacting?’ he demanded.
‘I’m not.’ She shook her head. ‘I thought things might change a little once we were married—but instead of the closeness I foolishly hoped might happen, all I get is anger and suspicion! I feel sorry for you, Ariston,’ she added quietly. ‘To view the world in such a cynical way means you’ll never be happy and that will inevitably spill over into all our lives. And I’m not having any child of mine brought up in an atmosphere like that. I don’t want our son to grow up knowing only distrust and cynicism—or to wonder why Mummy and Daddy never show each other any real affection. I want him to have a healthy view of the world, and that’s why I’m leaving.’
‘Just try,’ he challenged softly.
She gave a nod of bitter understanding as she met his darkened eyes. ‘Is that your way of saying you’ll cut off my funds? Are you going to play the financial tyrant in addition to the emotional one? Would you really go that far, Ariston—after everything you’ve been through yourself? Well, go right ahead—be my guest! But if you do that I’ll go straight to a lawyer and get them to slap a maintenance order on you. Or I’ll sell these.’ She pointed a shaking finger at the cold diamonds which flashed on her fingers, and then at the glittery tennis bracelet which was dangling from her wrist. ‘Or this. Or if need be, I’ll go to the papers. Yes. I’d do that, too. I’d sell my story and tell them what it was like being married to the Greek tycoon. I’d do anything to make sure you don’t take my baby away, no matter how much you offer me to disappear from your life. Because I would never ever walk away from my baby and no amount of money could induce me to.’ She sucked in a deep breath before her next words came out with a quiet intensity.
‘I am not your mother, Ariston.’
She saw him flinch as if she’d hit him, but nothing was going to stop her now. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me,’ she said, her voice trembling, ‘I’m going to pack my things and move out. And if you try to stop me, I’ll… I’ll call the police!’
His expression was unfathomable as their gazes clashed and she knew she’d pushed him as far as she possibly could. All the things she’d said had needed to be said and she’d meant every word of them, but that small glimmer of hope inside her refused to die. Could he read it in her eyes? Could he see the yearning she suspected still lingered there? The hope that maybe this showdown had cleared the air once and for all and he would let her get close enough to be the wife she really wanted to be. To show him all the love which was in her heart and maybe break down some of those formidable barriers he’d erected around his own. She swallowed. He might not ever be able to love her back, but couldn’t he relax enough to like her and to trust her?