‘You have no idea why I might be here, Lindsay? No reason to wonder why I might come looking for my errant wife?’

Errant wife. So he blamed her. Of course he did. And she knew he had a right to blame her—because she’d left him without an explanation or even, as he’d said, a warning. But he’d forced her to leave, even if he couldn’t or wouldn’t ever understand that.

‘It’s been six months, Antonios,’ she told him coolly, ‘and you haven’t been in touch once. I think it’s reasonable for me to be surprised to see you.’

‘Didn’t you think I’d ever come, demanding answers?’

‘I gave you an answer—’

‘A two-sentence email is not an explanation, Lindsay.’

He held up a hand to forestall her reply, although she couldn’t think of anything to say.

‘But don’t worry yourself on that account. I have no interest in your explanations.’

Frustration bubbled through her and emotion burned in her chest. Maybe she hadn’t had so many words when she’d finally left, but that was because she’d used them all up. Antonios hadn’t heard any of them.

‘The reason I’m here,’ he continued, his voice hard and unyielding, ‘is because I need you to return to Greece.’

Her jaw dropped and she shook her head in an instantaneous gut reaction.

‘I can’t—’

‘You’ll find you can, Lindsay. You pack a bag and get on a plane. It’s that easy.’

The Marakaios Brides

Powerful Greeks meet their match!

Proud Greek blood flows through the veins of brothers Antonios and Leonidas Marakaios. With determination and ruthlessness they have built their family’s empire to global heights.

It has been their sole focus—even to the exclusion of love.

But now two women look set to challenge their pride, their passion and their marriage vows!

Read Antonios’s story in:

The Marakaios Marriage

May 2015

And meet Leonidas in:

The Marakaios Baby

August 2015

The Marakaios

Marriage

Kate Hewitt

www.millsandboon.co.uk

After spending three years as a diehard New Yorker, KATE HEWITT now lives in a small village in the English Lake District with her husband, their five children and a Golden Retriever. In addition to writing intensely emotional stories she loves reading, baking, and playing chess with her son—she has yet to win against him, but she continues to try.

Learn more about Kate at www.kate-hewitt.com

MILLS & BOON

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To Pippa Roscoe—thank you for your invaluable feedback on this story.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘HELLO, LINDSAY.’

How could two such innocuous-sounding words cause her whole body to jolt, first with an impossible joy, and then with a far more consuming dread? A dread that seeped into her stomach like acid, corroding those few seconds of frail, false happiness as she registered the cold tone of the man she’d once promised to love, honour and obey.

Her husband, Antonios Marakaios.

Lindsay Douglas looked up from her computer, her hands clenching into fists in her lap even as her gaze roved helplessly, hungrily over him, took in his familiar features now made strange by the coldness in his eyes, the harsh downturn of his mouth. With her mind still spinning from the sight of him, she said the first thing that came into it.

‘How did you get in here?’

‘You mean the security guard?’ Antonios sounded merely disdainful, but his whisky-brown eyes glowed like banked coals. ‘I told him I was your husband. He let me through.’

She licked her dry lips, her mind spinning even as she forced herself to focus. Think rationally. ‘He shouldn’t have,’ she said. ‘You have no business being here, Antonios.’

‘No?’ He arched an eyebrow, his mouth curving coldly, even cruelly. ‘No business seeing my wife?’

She forced herself to meet that burning gaze, even though it took everything she had. ‘Our marriage is over.’

‘I am well aware of that, Lindsay. It’s been six months, after all, since you walked out on me without any warning.’

She heard the accusation in his voice but refused to rise to it. There was no point now; their marriage was over, just as she’d told him.

‘I only meant that all the academic buildings are locked, with security guards by the door,’ she answered. Her voice sounded calm—far calmer than she felt. Seeing Antonios again was causing memories to rise up in her mind like a flock of seagulls, crying out to her, making her remember things she’d spent the last six months determined to forget. The way he’d held her after they’d made love, how he’d always so tenderly tucked her hair behind her ears, cupped her cheek with his hand, kissed her eyelids. How happy and safe and cherished he’d once made her feel.

No, she couldn’t remember that. Better to remember the three months of isolation and confusion she’d spent at his home in Greece as Antonios had become more and more obsessed with work, expecting her simply to slot into a life she’d found alien and even frightening.

Better to remember how depressed and despairing she’d felt, until staying in Greece for one more day, one more minute, had seemed impossible.

Yes, better to remember that.

‘I still don’t know why you’re here,’ she told him. She placed her hands flat on the desk and stood, determined to meet him at eye level, or as close as she could, considering he topped her by eight inches.

Yet just looking at him now caused her to feel a tug of longing deep in her belly. The close-cut midnight-dark hair. The strong square jaw. The sensual, mobile lips. And as for his body...taut, chiselled perfection underneath the dark grey silk suit he wore. She knew his body as well as her own. Memories rushed in again, sweet and poignant reminders of their one sweet week together, and she forced them away, held his sardonic gaze.

Antonios arched one dark eyebrow. ‘You have no idea why I might be here, Lindsay? No reason to wonder why I might come looking for my errant wife?’

Errant wife. So he blamed her. Of course he did. And she knew he had a right to blame her, because she’d left him without an explanation or even, as he’d said, a warning. But he’d forced her to leave, even if he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, ever understand that. ‘It’s been six months, Antonios,’ she told him coolly, ‘and you haven’t been in touch once. I think it’s reasonable to be surprised to see you.’

‘Didn’t you think I’d ever come, demanding answers?’

‘I gave you an answer—’

‘A two-sentence email is not an explanation, Lindsay. Saying our marriage was a mistake without saying why is just cowardice.’ He held up a hand to forestall her reply, although she couldn’t think of anything to say. ‘But don’t worry yourself on that account. I have no interest in your explanations. Nothing would satisfy me now, and our marriage ended when you walked away without a word.’

Frustration bubbled through her and emotion burned in her chest. Maybe she hadn’t had so many words when she’d finally left, but that was because she’d used them all up. Antonios hadn’t heard any of it. ‘The reason I’m here,’ he continued, his voice hard and unyielding, ‘is because I need you to return to Greece.’

Her jaw dropped and she shook her head in an instantaneous gut reaction.

‘I can’t—’

‘You’ll find you can, Lindsay. You pack a bag and get on a plane. It’s that easy.’

Mutely she shook her head. Just the thought of returning to Greece made her heart start to thud hard, blood pounding in her ears. She focused on her breathing, trying to keep it even and slow. One of the books she’d read had advised focusing on the little things she could control, rather than the overwhelming ones she couldn’t. Like her husband and his sudden return into her life.

Antonios stared at her, his whisky-brown eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, his gaze ruthlessly assessing. In. Out. In. Out. With effort she slowed her breathing, and her heart stopped thudding quite so hard.

She glanced up at him, conscious of how he was staring at her. And she was staring at him; she couldn’t help herself. Even angry as he so obviously was, and had every right to be, he looked beautiful. She remembered when she’d first seen him in New York, with snowflakes dusting his hair and a whimsical smile on his face as he’d caught sight of her standing on Fifth Avenue, gazing up at the white spirals of the Guggenheim.

I’m lost, he’d said. Or at least I thought I was.

But she’d been the one who had been lost, in so many ways. Devastated by the death of her father. Spinning in a void of grief and fear and loneliness she’d been trying so hard to escape.

And then she’d lost herself in Antonios, in the charming smile he’d given her, in the warmth she’d seen in his eyes, in the way he’d looked at her as if she were the most interesting and important woman in the world. For a week, a mere seven days, they’d revelled in each other. And then reality had hit, and hit hard.

‘Let me clarify,’ he said, his voice both soft and so very cold. ‘You will come to Greece. As your husband, I command you.’

She stiffened. ‘You can’t command me, Antonios. I’m not your property.’

‘Greek marriage law is a little different from American law, Lindsay.’

She shook her head, angry now, although not, she suspected, as angry as he was. ‘Not that different.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he conceded with a shrug. ‘But I am assuming you want a divorce?’

The sudden change in subject jolted her. ‘A divorce...’

‘That is why you left me, is it not? Because you no longer wished to continue in our marriage.’ He bared his teeth in a smile and Lindsay suppressed the sudden urge to shiver. She’d never seen Antonios look this way. So cold and hard and predatory.

‘I...’ A divorce sounded so final, so terrible, and yet of course that had to be what she wanted. She’d left him, after all.

In the six months since she’d left Greece, she’d immersed herself in the comforting cocoon of number theory, trying to finish her doctorate in Pure Mathematics. Trying to blunt that awful ache of missing Antonios, or at least the Antonios she’d known for one week, before everything had changed. She’d tried to take steps to put her life back together, to control her anxiety and reach out to the people around her. She’d made progress, and there had been moments, whole days, when she’d felt normal and even happy.

Yet she’d always missed Antonios. She’d missed the person she’d been with him, when they’d been in New York.

And neither of those people had been real. Their marriage, their love, hadn’t been real. She knew that absolutely, and yet...

She still longed for what they’d shared, so very briefly.

‘Yes,’ she said quietly. She lifted her chin and met his gaze. ‘I want to end our marriage.’

‘A divorce,’ Antonios clarified flatly. Lindsay flinched slightly but kept his gaze, hard and unyielding as it was.

‘Yes.’

‘Then, Lindsay,’ he told her in that awful silky voice, ‘you need to do as I ask. Command. Because under Greek marriage law, you can’t get a divorce unless both parties agree.’

She stared at him, her eyes widening as she considered the implications of what he was saying. ‘There must be other circumstances in which a divorce is permissible.’

‘Ah, yes, there are. Two, as a matter of fact.’ His mouth twisted unpleasantly. ‘Adultery and abandonment. But as I have committed neither of those, they do not apply, at least in my case.’

She flinched again, and Antonios registered her reaction with a curl of his lip. ‘Why do you want me to return to Greece, Antonios?’

‘Not, as you seem to fear, to resume our marriage.’ His voice hardened as he raked her with a contemptuous gaze. ‘I have no desire to do that.’

Of course he didn’t. And that shouldn’t hurt, because she’d chosen it to be that way, and yet it still did. ‘Then...’

‘My mother, as you might remember, was fond of you. She doesn’t know why you left, and I have not enlightened her as to the state of our marriage.’

Guilt twisted sharply inside her. Daphne Marakaios had been kind to her during her time in Greece, but it still hadn’t been enough to stay. To stay sane.

‘Why haven’t you told her?’ Lindsay asked. ‘It’s been six months already, and you can’t keep it a secret forever.’

‘Why shouldn’t you tell her?’ Antonios countered. ‘Oh, I forgot. Because you’re a coward. You sneak away from my home and my bed and can’t even be bothered to have a single conversation about why you wished to end our marriage.’

Lindsay drew a deep breath, fighting the impulse to tell him just how many conversations she’d tried to have. There was no point now. ‘I understand that you’re angry—’

‘I’m not angry, Lindsay. To be angry I would have to care.’ He stood up, the expression on his face ironing out. ‘And I stopped caring when you sent me that email. When you refused to say anything but that our marriage was a mistake when I called you, wanting to know what had happened. When you showed me how little you thought of me or our marriage.’

‘And you showed me how little you thought of our marriage every day I was in Greece,’ Lindsay returned before she could help herself.

Antonios turned to her slowly, his eyes wide with incredulity. ‘Are you actually going to blame me for the end of our marriage?’ he asked, each syllable iced with disbelief.

‘Oh, no, of course not,’ Lindsay fired back. ‘How could I do that? How could you possibly have any responsibility or blame?’

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing, and Lindsay almost laughed to realize he wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

Then he shrugged her words aside and answered in a clipped voice, ‘I don’t care, about you or your reasons. But my mother does. Because she has been ill, I have spared her the further grief of knowing how and why you have gone.’

‘Ill—’

‘Her cancer has returned,’ Antonios informed her with brutal bluntness. ‘She got the results back a month after you left.’

Lindsay stared at him in shock. She’d known Daphne had been in remission from breast cancer, but the outlook had been good. ‘Antonios, I’m so sorry. Is it...is it treatable?’

He lifted one powerful shoulder in a shrug, his expression veiled. ‘Not very.’

Lindsay sank back in her chair, her mind reeling with this new information. She thought of kind Daphne, with her white hair and soft voice, her gentleness apparent in every word and action, and felt a twist of grief for the woman she’d known so briefly. And as for Antonios...he adored his mother. This would have hit him hard and she, his wife, hadn’t been there to comfort and support him through her illness. Yet would she have been able to, if she’d stayed in Greece?

She’d been so desperately unhappy there, and the thought of returning brought the old fears to the fore.

‘Antonios,’ she said quietly, ‘I’m very, very sorry about your mother, but I still can’t go back to Greece.’

‘You can and you will,’ Antonios replied flatly, ‘if you want a divorce.’

She shook her head, her hair flying, desperation digging its claws into her soul. ‘Then I won’t ask for a divorce.’

‘Then you are my wife still, and you belong with me.’ His voice had roughened and he turned away from her in one sharp movement. ‘You cannot have it both ways, Lindsay.’

‘How will my seeing your mother help her?’ Lindsay protested. ‘It would only hurt her more for me to tell her to her face that we’ve separated—’

‘But I have no intention of having you tell her that.’ Antonios turned around, his eyes seeming to burn right through her as he glared at her. ‘It is likely my mother only has a few months to live, perhaps less. I do not intend to distress her with the news of our failed marriage. For a few days, Lindsay, perhaps a week, you can pretend that we are still happily married.’

‘What—?’ She stared at him, appalled, as he gave her a grimace of a smile.

‘Surely that is not impossible? You have already proven once what a good actress you are, when you pretended to fall in love with me.’

* * *

Antonios stared at his wife’s lovely pale face and squashed the tiny flicker of pity he felt for her. She looked so trapped, so horrified at the prospect of resuming their marriage and returning to Greece.

Not, of course, that they would truly resume their marriage. It would be a sham only, for the sake of his mother. Antonios had no intention of inviting Lindsay into his bed again. Not after she’d left him in such a cold-hearted and cowardly way. No, he’d take her back to Greece for a few days for his mother’s sake, and then he’d never see her again...which was what she obviously wanted. And he wanted it, too.

‘A few days?’ she repeated numbly. ‘And that will be enough...’

‘It’s my mother’s name day next week,’ Antonios told her.

‘Name day...’

‘In Greece we celebrate name days rather than birthdays. My family wishes to celebrate it especially, considering.’ Grief constricted his throat and burned in his chest. He could not imagine Villa Marakaios without his mother. Losing his father had been hard enough. His father had built the vineyard from nothing; he’d been the brains behind the operation, for better and definitely for worse, but his mother had always been its heart. And when the heart was gone...

But perhaps his own heart had already gone, crushed to nothing when his wife had left him. He’d thought Lindsay had loved him. He’d believed they were happy together.

What a joke. What a lie. But Antonios knew he should be used to people not being what they seemed. Not saying what they meant. He’d had hard lessons in that already.

‘We are having a celebration,’ he continued, just managing to keep his voice even. ‘Family and friends, all our neighbours. You will be there. Afterwards you can return here if you wish. I will explain to my mother that you needed to finish your research.’ He knew Lindsay had been pursuing her doctorate in Pure Mathematics, and when she’d left him she’d told him she needed to tie a few things up back in New York. He’d said goodbye in good faith, thinking she’d only be gone a few days. She’d already told him that her research could be done anywhere; she’d said there was nothing for her back in New York. But apparently that, like everything else, had been a lie.

Lindsay’s face had gone even paler and she lifted one hand to her throat, swallowing convulsively. ‘A party? Antonios, please. I can’t.’

Fury beat through his blood. ‘What did I ever do to you,’ he demanded in a low, savage voice, ‘to make you treat me this way? Treat my family this way? We welcomed you into our home, into our lives.’ His insides twisted as emotion gripped him—emotion he couldn’t bear Lindsay to see. He’d told her he didn’t care about her any more, and he’d meant it. He had to mean it. ‘My mother,’ he said after a moment, when he’d regained his composure and his voice was as flat and toneless as he needed it to be, ‘loved you. She treated you like her own daughter. Is this how you intend to repay her?’

Tears sparkled on Lindsay’s lashes and she blinked them back, shaking her head in such obvious misery that Antonios almost felt sorry for her again. Almost.

‘No, of course not,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I...I was very grateful to your mother, and her kindness to me.’

‘You have a funny way of showing it.’

Her eyes flashed fire at that, and Antonios wondered what on earth she had to be angry about. She’d left him.

‘Even so,’ she said quietly, one hand still fluttering at her throat, ‘it is very difficult for me to return to Greece.’

‘And why is that? Do you have a lover waiting for you here in New York?’

Her mouth dropped open in shock. ‘A lover—’

Antonios shrugged, as if it were a matter of no consequence, even though the thought of Lindsay with another man, violating their marriage vows, their marriage bed, made him want to punch something. ‘I do not know what else would take you so abruptly from Greece.’ From me, he almost said, but thankfully didn’t.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide, although with what emotion Antonios couldn’t tell. ‘No,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I don’t have a lover. There’s only been you, Antonios. Ever.’

And yet he obviously hadn’t been enough. Antonios didn’t even know whether to believe her; he told himself it didn’t matter. ‘Then there is no reason for you not to come to Greece.’

‘My research—’

‘Cannot wait a week?’ Impatience flared inside him, along with the familiar fury. Didn’t she realize how thoughtless, how selfish and cruel she was being?

Even now, after six months of coming to accept and learning to live with her abandonment, he was stunned by how completely she’d deceived him. He had believed in her love for him utterly. But, Antonios reminded himself, they’d only known each other a week when they had married. It had been impulsive, reckless even, but he’d been so sure. Sure of his love for Lindsay, and of her love for him.

What a fool he’d been.

Lindsay was staring at him, her face still pale and miserable. ‘One week,’ Antonios ground out. ‘Seven days. And then I intend never to see you again.’ She flinched, as if his words hurt her, and he let out a hard laugh. ‘Doesn’t that notion please you?’

She glanced away, pressing her lips together to keep them from trembling. ‘No,’ she said after a moment. ‘It doesn’t.’

He shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t understand you.’

‘I know.’ She let out a shuddering breath. ‘You never did.’

‘And that is my fault?’

She shook her head wearily. ‘It’s too late to apportion blame, Antonios. It simply is. Was. Our marriage was a mistake, as I told you in my email and on the telephone.’

‘Yet you never said why.’

‘You never asked,’ Lindsay answered, her voice sharpening, and Antonios frowned at her.

‘I asked you on the phone—’

‘No,’ Lindsay told him quietly, ‘you didn’t. You asked me if I were serious, and I said yes. And then you hung up.’

Antonios stared at her, his jaw bunched so tight it ached. ‘You’re the one who left, Lindsay.’

‘I know—’

‘Yet now you are attempting to imply that our marriage failed because I didn’t ask the right questions when I called you after you’d left me. Theos! It is hard to take.’

‘I’m not implying anything of the sort, Antonios. I was simply reminding you of the facts.’

‘Then let me remind you of a fact. I’m not interested in your explanations. The time for those has passed. What I am interested in, Lindsay—the only thing I am interested in—is your agreement. A plane leaves for Athens tonight. If we are to be on it, we need to leave here in the next hour.’

‘What?’ Her gaze flew back to his, her mouth gaping open. ‘I haven’t even agreed.’

‘Don’t you want a divorce?’

She stared at him for a moment, her chin lifted proudly, her eyes cool and grey. ‘You might think you can blackmail me into agreeing, Antonios,’ she told him, ‘but you can’t. I’ll come to Greece, not because I want a divorce but because I want to pay my respects to your mother. To explain to her—’

‘Do not think—’ Antonios cut her off ‘—that you’ll tell her some sob story about our mistake of a marriage. I don’t want her upset—’

‘When do you intend on telling her the truth?’

‘Never,’ Antonios answered shortly. ‘She doesn’t have that long to live.’

Tears filled Lindsay’s eyes again, turning them luminous and silver, and she blinked them back. ‘Do you really think that’s the better course? To deceive her—’

‘You’re one to speak of deception.’

‘I never deceived you, Antonios. I did love you, for that week in New York.’

The pain that slashed through him was so intense and sudden that Antonios nearly gasped aloud. Nearly clutched his chest, as if he were having a heart attack, the same as his father, dead at just fifty-nine years old. ‘And then?’ he finally managed, his voice thankfully dispassionate. ‘You just stopped?’ Part of him knew he shouldn’t be asking these questions, shouldn’t care about these answers. He’d told Lindsay the time for explanations had passed, and it had. ‘Never mind,’ he dismissed roughly. ‘It hardly matters. Come to Greece for whatever reason you want, but you need to be ready in an hour.’

She stared at him for a long moment, looking fragile and beautiful and making him remember how it had felt to hold her. Touch her.

‘Fine,’ she said softly, and her voice sounded sad and resigned. Suppressing the ache of longing that trembled through him, Antonios turned away from the sight of his wife and waited, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as she packed up her belongings and then, without a word or glance for him, slipped by him and out of the room.

CHAPTER TWO

LINDSAY WALKED ACROSS the college campus in the oncoming twilight with Antonios like a malevolent shadow behind her. She walked blindly, unaware of the stately brick buildings, now gilded in the gold of fading sunlight, that made this small liberal arts college one of the most beautiful in the whole north-east of America.

All she could think of was the week that loomed so terribly ahead of her. All she could feel was Antonios’s anger and scorn.

Maybe she deserved some of it, leaving the way she had, but Antonios had no idea how hard life in Greece had been for her. Hadn’t been willing to listen to her explanations, fumbling and faltering as they had been, because while she’d wanted him to understand she’d also been afraid of him knowing and seeing too much.

Their marriage, Lindsay acknowledged hollowly, had been doomed from the start, never mind that one magical week in New York.

And now the time for explanations had passed, Antonios said. It was for the best, Lindsay knew, because having Antonios understand her or her reasons for leaving served no purpose now. It was impossible anyway, because he’d never understood. Never tried.

‘Where do you live?’ Antonios asked as they passed several academic buildings. A few students relaxed outside, lounging in the last of the weak October sunshine before darkness fell. Fall had only just come to upstate New York; the leaves were just starting to change and the breeze was chilly, but after a long, sticky summer of heatwaves everyone was ready for autumn.

‘Just across the street,’ Lindsay murmured. She crossed the street to a lane of faculty houses, made of clapboard and painted in different bright colours with front porches that held a few Adonirack chairs or a porch swing. She’d sat outside there, in the summers, watching the world go by. Always a spectator...until she’d met Antonios.

He’d woken her up, brought her into the land of the living. With him she’d felt more joy and excitement than she’d ever known before. She should have realized it couldn’t last, it hadn’t been real.

Antonios stood patiently while she fumbled for the keys; to her annoyance and shame her hands shook. He affected her that much. And not just him, but the whole reality he’d thrust so suddenly upon her. Going to Greece. Seeing his family again. Pretending to be his wife—his loving wife—again. Parties and dinners, endless social occasions, every moment in the spotlight...

‘Let me help you,’ Antonios said and, to her surprise, he almost sounded gentle. He took the key from her hand and fitted it into the lock, turning it easily before pushing the door open.

Lindsay muttered her thanks and stepped inside, breathed in the musty, dusty scent of her father’s house. It was strange to have Antonios here, to see this glimpse of her old life, the only life she’d known until he had burst into it.

She flipped on the light and watched him blink as he took in the narrow hallway, made even narrower by the bookshelves set against every wall, each one crammed to overflowing with books. More books were piled on the floor in teetering stacks; the dining room table was covered in textbooks and piles of papers. Lindsay was so used to it that she didn’t even notice the clutter any more, but she was conscious of it now, with Antonios here. She was uncomfortably aware of just how small and messy it all was. Yet it was also home, the place where she’d felt safe, where she and her father had been happy, or as happy as they knew how to be. She wouldn’t apologize for it.

She cleared her throat and turned towards the stairs. ‘I’ll just pack.’

‘Do you need any help?’

She turned back to Antonios, surprised by his solicitude. Or was he being patronizing? She couldn’t tell anything about him any more; his expression was veiled, his voice toneless, his movements controlled.

‘No,’ she answered, ‘I’m fine.’

He arched one dark eyebrow. ‘Are you really fine, Lindsay? Because just now your hands were shaking too much for you even to open your front door.’

She stiffened, colour rushing into her face. ‘Maybe that’s because you’re so angry, Antonios. It’s a little unsettling to be around someone like that.’

His mouth tightened. ‘You think I shouldn’t be angry?’

She closed her eyes briefly as weariness swept over her. ‘I don’t want to get into this discussion. We’ve both agreed it serves no purpose. I was just—’

‘Stating a fact,’ Antonios finished sardonically. ‘Of course. I’m sorry I can’t make this experience easier for you.’

Lindsay just shook her head, too tired and tense to argue. ‘Please, let’s not bicker and snipe at each other. I’m coming to Greece as you wanted. Can’t that be enough?’

His eyes blazed and he took a step towards her, colour slashing his cheekbones. ‘No, Lindsay, that is not remotely enough. But since it is all I have asked of you, and all I believe you are capable of, I will have to be satisfied.’

He stared at her for a long, taut moment; Lindsay could hear her breathing turn ragged as her heart beat harder. She felt trapped by his gaze, pinned as much by his contempt as her own pointless anger. And underneath the fury that simmered in Antonios’s gaze and hid in her own heart was the memory of when things had been different between them. When he’d taken her in his arms and made her body sing. When she’d thought she loved him.

Then he flicked his gaze away and, sagging with relief, she turned and went upstairs.

She dragged a suitcase out of the hall closet, forced herself to breathe more slowly. She could do this. She had to do this, not because she wanted a divorce so badly but because she owed it to Daphne. Her own mother had turned her back on her completely when she’d been no more than a child, and Daphne’s small kindnesses to her had been like water in a barren desert. But not enough water. Just a few drops dribbled on her parched lips, when she’d needed the oasis of her husband’s support and understanding, attention and care.

‘Lindsay?’ She heard the creak of the staircase as Antonios came upstairs, his broad shoulders nearly touching both walls as he loomed in the hallway, tall and dark, familiar and strange at the same time. ‘We need to leave shortly.’

‘I’ll try to hurry.’ She started throwing clothes into her suitcase, dimly aware that she had nothing appropriate for the kind of social occasions Antonios would expect her to attend. Formal dinners, a huge party for Daphne...as the largest local landowner and businessman, Antonios’s calendar had been full of social engagements. From the moment she’d arrived in Greece he’d expected her to be his hostess, to arrange seating for dinner parties, to chat effortlessly to everyone, to be charming and sparkling and always at his side, except when he’d left her for weeks on end to go on business trips. Lindsay didn’t know which had been worse: trying to manage alone or feeling ignored.

In any case, she hadn’t managed, not remotely. Being Antonios’s wife was a role she had been utterly unprepared for.

And now she’d have to go through it all again, all the social occasions and organizing, and, worse, it would be under his family’s suspicious gaze because she’d been gone for so long. Her breath hitched at the thought.

Don’t think about it. You can deal with that later. Just focus on the present.

The present, Lindsay acknowledged, was difficult enough.

‘You left plenty of clothes at the villa,’ Antonios told her. ‘You only need to pack a small amount.’

Lindsay pictured all the clothes back in their bedroom, the beautiful things Antonios had bought her in New York, before he’d taken her back to Greece. She’d forgotten about them, and the thought of them waiting for her there, hanging in the closet as if she’d never left, made her feel slightly sick.

‘I’ll just get my toiletries,’ she said, and turned to go to the bathroom down the hall. She had to move past him in the narrow hallway and, as she tried to slip past his powerful form, she could smell his aftershave and feel the press of his back against her breasts. For one heart-stopping second she longed to throw herself into his arms, wrap herself around him, feel the comforting heat of his body, the sensuous slide of his lips on hers. To feel wanted and cherished and safe again.

It was never going to happen.

Antonios moved to let her pass and her breath came out in a shuddering rush as she quickly slipped towards the bathroom and, caught between relief and despair, shut and locked the door.

Ten minutes later she’d packed one small case and Antonios brought it down to the hired car he had waiting in one of the college car parks. Lindsay slipped into the leather interior, laid her head back against the seat. She felt incredibly, unbearably tired.

‘Do you need to notify anyone?’ Antonios asked. ‘That you’re leaving?’

‘No.’ Her research, as he’d so bluntly pointed out, could wait. She’d stopped her work as a teaching assistant for introductory classes after her father had died last summer. Only nine months ago, and yet it felt like a lifetime.

It had been a lifetime.

‘No one will worry about you?’ Antonios asked. ‘Or wonder where you’ve gone?’

‘I’ll email my colleagues. They’ll understand.’

‘Did you tell them about me?’

‘You know I did,’ she answered. ‘I had to explain why I left my job and house and went to Greece on the spur of the moment.’

His hands flexed on the steering wheel; she could feel his tension. ‘It was your choice, Lindsay.’

‘I know it was.’

‘You said you had nothing left back in New York.’

‘It felt like I didn’t.’

He shifted in his seat, seeming to want to say more, but kept himself from it.

Lindsay turned her face to the window, steeled herself for the next endless week of tension like this, stalled conversations and not-so-veiled hostility. How on earth were they going to convince Daphne, as well as the rest of his family, that they were still in love?

They didn’t speak for the rest of the three-hour drive to New York City. Antonios returned the rental car and took their suitcases into the airport; within a few minutes after checking in they’d been whisked to a first-class lounge and treated to champagne and canapés.

It seemed ludicrous to be sitting in luxury and sipping champagne as if they were on honeymoon. As if they were in love.

Lindsay sneaked a glance at Antonios—the dark slashes of his eyebrows drawn together, his mouth turned downwards in a forbidding frown—and she had a sudden, absurd urge to say something silly, to make him smile.

The truth was, she didn’t know what she felt for him any more. Sadness for what she’d thought they had, and anger for the way he’d shown her it was false. Yet she’d been so in love with him during their time in New York. It was hard to dismiss those feelings as mere fantasy, and yet she knew she had to.

And in a few hours she’d have to pretend they were real, that she still felt them. Her breath hitched at the thought.

‘Does anyone know?’ she asked and Antonios snapped his gaze to hers.

‘Know what?’

‘That we’re...that we’re separated.’

His mouth thinned. ‘We’re not, in actuality, legally separated, but no, no one knows.’

‘Not any of your sisters?’ she pressed. She thought of his three sisters: bossy Parthenope, with a husband and young son, social butterfly Xanthe, and Ava, her own age yet utterly different from her. She hadn’t bonded with any of them during her time in Greece; his sisters had been possessive of Antonios, and had regarded his unexpected American bride with wary suspicion. They’d also, at Antonios’s command, backed off from all the social responsibilities they’d fulfilled for him when he’d been a bachelor. A sign of respect, Antonios had told her, but Lindsay had seen the disdain in their covert glances. What they’d done so effortlessly, maintaining and even organizing the endless social whirl, had been nearly impossible for her. They’d realized that, even if Antonios hadn’t.

And now she would have to face them again, suffer them giving her guarded looks, asking her questions, demanding answers...

She couldn’t do this.

‘Is the thought of my family so abhorrent to you?’ Antonios demanded, and Lindsay stiffened.

‘No—’

‘Because,’ he told her bluntly, ‘you look like you’re going to be sick.’

‘I’m not going to be sick.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But the thought of seeing your family again does make me nervous, Antonios—’

‘They did nothing but welcome you.’ He cut her off with a shrug of his powerful shoulders.

She took a measured breath. ‘Only at your command.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘Does that matter?’

Of course it does. She bit back the words, knowing they would only lead to pointless argument. ‘I don’t think they were pleased that you came home with such an unexpected bride,’ she said after a moment. ‘I think they would have preferred you to marry someone of your own background.’ A good Greek wife...the kind of wife she hadn’t, and never could have, been.

‘Perhaps,’ Antonios allowed, his tone still dismissive, ‘but they still accepted you because they knew I loved you.’

Lindsay didn’t answer. It was clear Antonios hadn’t seen how suspicious his sisters had been of her. And while they had accepted her on the surface, there had still been plenty of sideways glances, speculative looks, even a few veiled comments. Lindsay had felt every single one, to the core.

Yet she wasn’t about to explain that to Antonios now, not when he looked so fierce—fiercely determined to be in the right.

‘You have nothing to say to that?’ Antonios asked, and Lindsay shrugged, taking a sip of champagne. It tasted sour in her mouth.

‘No, I don’t.’ Nothing he would be willing to hear, anyway.

His mouth tightened and he turned to stare out of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the runway. Lindsay watched him covertly, despair and longing coursing through her in equal measures.

She told herself she shouldn’t feel this much emotion. It had been her choice to leave, and really they’d known so little of each other. Three months together, that was all. Not enough time to fall in love, much less stay there.

She was a mathematician; she believed in reason, in fact, in logic. Love at almost first sight didn’t figure in her world view. Her research had shown the almost mystical relationships between numbers, but she and Antonios weren’t numbers, and even though her heart had once cried out differently her head insisted they couldn’t have actually loved each other.

‘Maybe you never really loved me, Antonios,’ she said quietly, and he jerked back in both shock and affront.

‘Is that why you left? Because you didn’t think I loved you?’ he asked in disbelief.

‘I’m trying to explain how I felt,’ Lindsay answered evenly. ‘Since you seem determined to draw an explanation from me, even if you say you don’t want one.’

‘So you’ve convinced yourself I didn’t love you.’ He folded his arms, his face settling into implacable lines.

‘I don’t think either of us had enough time to truly love or even know each other,’ Lindsay answered. ‘We only knew each other a week—’

‘Three months, Lindsay.’

‘A week before we married,’ she amended. ‘And it was a week out of time, out of reality...’ Which was what had made it so sweet and so precious. A week away from the little life she’d made for herself in New York—a life that had been both prison and haven. A week away from being Lindsay Douglas, brilliant mathematician and complete recluse. A week of being seen in an entirely new way—as someone who was interesting and beautiful and normal.

‘It may have only been a week,’ Antonios said, ‘but I knew you. At least, I thought I knew you. But perhaps you are right, because the woman I thought I knew wouldn’t have left me the way you did.’

‘Then you didn’t really know me,’ Lindsay answered, and Antonios swung round to stare at her, his eyes narrowed.

‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’

‘I...’ She drew a deep breath. She could tell him now, explain everything, yet what good would it do? Their marriage was over. Her leaving him had brought about its end. But before she could even think about summoning the courage to confess, he had turned away from her again.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he answered. ‘I don’t care.’

Lindsay sagged back against her seat, relief and disappointment flooding her as she told herself it was better this way. It had to be.

* * *

Antonios sat in his first-class seat, his glass of complimentary champagne untouched, as his mind seethed with questions he’d never thought to ask himself before. And he shouldn’t, he knew, ask them now. It didn’t matter what Lindsay’s reasons had been for leaving, or whether they’d truly known and loved each other or not. Any possibility between them had ended with her two-sentence email.

Dear Antonios,

I’m sorry, but I cannot come back to Greece. Our marriage was a mistake. Lindsay.

When he’d first read the email, he’d thought it was a joke. His brain simply hadn’t been able to process what she was telling him; it had seemed so absurd. Only forty-eight hours before, he’d made love to her half the night long and she’d clung to him until morning, kissed him with passion and gentleness when she’d said goodbye.

And she’d known she was leaving him then?

He hadn’t wanted to believe it, had started jumping to outrageous, nonsensical conclusions. Someone else had written the email. A jealous rival or a desperate relative? He’d cast them both in roles in a melodrama that had no basis in reality.

The reality was his phone call to Lindsay that same day, and her flat voice repeating what she’d told him in the email. Maybe he’d been the one to hang up, but only because she’d been so determined not to explain herself. Not to say anything at all, except for her wretched party line. That their marriage was a mistake.

Disbelief had given way to anger, to a cold, deep rage the like of which he’d never felt before, not even when he’d realized the extent of his father’s desperate deception. He’d loved her. He’d brought her into the bosom of his family, showered her with clothes and jewels. He’d given her his absolute loyalty, had presented her to his shocked family as the choice of his heart, even though they’d only known each other for a week. He’d shown how devoted he was to her in every way possible, and she’d said it was all a mistake?

He turned to her now, took in her pale face, the soft, vulnerable curve of her cheek, a tendril of white-blonde hair resting against it. When he’d first seen her in New York City, he’d been utterly enchanted. She’d looked ethereal, like a winter fairy, with her pale hair and silvery eyes. He’d called her his Snow Queen.

‘Did you intend to leave me permanently,’ he asked suddenly, his voice too raw for his liking or comfort, ‘when you said goodbye to me in Greece?’ When she’d kissed him, her slender arms wrapped around his neck, had she known?

She didn’t turn from the window, but he felt her body tense. ‘Does it matter?’

‘It does to me.’ Even though it shouldn’t. But maybe he needed to ask these questions, despite what he’d said. Perhaps he would find some peace amidst all the devastation if he understood, even if only in part, why Lindsay had acted as she had. Perhaps then he could let go of his anger and hurt, and move on. Alone.

She let out a tiny sigh. ‘Then, yes. I did.’

Her words were like a fist to his gut. To his heart. ‘So you lied to me.’

‘I never specified when I was coming back,’ she said, her voice tired and sad.

‘You never said you were going. You acted like you loved me.’ He turned away from her, not wanting her to see the naked emotion he could feel on his face. She wasn’t even looking at him, but he still felt exposed. Felt the raw pain underneath the anger. Still, one word squeezed its way out of his throat. ‘Why?’

She didn’t answer.

‘Why, Lindsay?’ he demanded. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to leave, that you were unhappy—?’

‘I tried telling you the truth but you never heard it,’ she said wearily. ‘You never listened.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Antonios demanded. ‘You never once said you were unhappy—’

Lindsay shook her head. ‘I don’t want to go into it, Antonios. It’s pointless. If you want an explanation, it’s this: I never really loved you.’

He blinked, reeling from the coldly stated fact even as he sought to deny it. ‘Why did you marry me, then?’ he asked when he trusted his voice to sound even. Emotionless.

‘Because I thought I loved you. I convinced myself what we had was real.’ She turned to him, her eyes blazing with what he realized, to his own shock, was anger or maybe grief. ‘Can’t you see how it was for me? My father had died only a few weeks before. I went to New York because I wanted to escape my life, escape my loneliness and grief. I wandered around the city like a lost soul, still feeling so desperately sad and yet wanting to be enchanted by all the beauty. And then you saw me and you told me you were lost, and when I looked in your eyes it felt like you were seeing me—a me I hadn’t even known existed until that moment.’

She sank back against her seat, out of breath, her face pale, her shoulders rising and falling in agitation. Antonios’s mind spun emptily for a few stunned seconds before he finally managed, his voice hoarse, ‘And that was real.’

‘No, it wasn’t, Antonios. It was a fairy tale. It was playing at being in love. It was red roses and dancing until midnight and penthouse suites at luxury hotels. It was wonderful and magical, but it wasn’t real.’

‘Just because something is exciting—’

‘Real was coming to Greece—’ she cut across him flatly ‘—and discovering what your life was like there. Real was feeling like I was drowning every day and you never even noticed.’ She bit her lip and then turned towards the window; he realized she’d turned to hide her own emotion, just as he’d tried to hide his. The anger that had been a cold, hard ball inside him started to soften, but he didn’t know what emotion replaced it. He felt confused and unsteady, as if someone had given him a hard push, had scattered all his tightly held beliefs and resolutions.

‘Lindsay...’ He put a hand on her shoulder, conscious once again of how small and fragile she seemed. ‘I don’t understand.’

She let out a choked laugh and dashed quickly at her eyes. ‘I know, Antonios, and you never did. But it’s too late now, for both of us. You know that, so let’s just stop this conversation.’

A stewardess came by to take their untouched champagne glasses and prepare them for take-off. Lindsay took the opportunity to shrug his hand from her shoulder and wipe the traces of tears from her eyes.

When she turned to look at him, her face was composed and carefully blank. ‘Please, let’s just get through this flight.’

He nodded tersely, knowing now was not the time to demand answers. And really, what answer could Lindsay give? What on earth could she mean, that she’d been drowning? He’d taken her to his home. His family had welcomed her. He’d given her every comfort, every luxury. Just the memory of how she’d responded to his touch, how her body had sung in tune to his, made a bewildered fury rise up in him again. What the hell was she talking about—drowning?

And if she truly had been unhappy, why hadn’t she ever told him?

CHAPTER THREE

AS SOON AS the sign for seat belts blinked off, Lindsay unbuckled hers and slipped past Antonios. She hurried to the first-class bathroom, barely taking in the spacious elegance, the crystal vase of roses by the sink. She placed her hands flat on the marble countertop and breathed slowly, in and out, several times, until her heart rate started to slow.

Telling him that much, confessing to even just a little of how she’d felt, had depleted every emotional resource she had. She had no idea how she was going to cope with seven more days of being with Antonios, of pretending to his family.

She pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror and continued with her deep, even breathing. She couldn’t panic now. Not like she had back in Greece, when the panic had taken over her senses, had left her feeling like an empty shell, a husk of a person, barely able to function.

How had Antonios not seen that? How had he not heard? Maybe her attempts at trying to explain had been feeble, but he hadn’t wanted to listen. Hadn’t been able to hear. And he still couldn’t.

She’d refuse to discuss it any more, Lindsay resolved. She couldn’t defuse his anger and she wouldn’t even try. Survival was all she was looking for now, for the next week. For Daphne’s sake. Her mother-in-law deserved that much, and Lindsay wanted to see her again and pay her respects.

But heaven help her, it was going to be hard.

Taking a deep breath, she splashed some water on her face and patted it dry. With one last determined look at her pale face in the mirror, she turned and headed back to their seats.

Their dinners had arrived while Lindsay was in the bathroom, and she gazed at the linen napkins and tablecloth, the crystal wine glasses and the silver-domed chafing dishes, remembering how they’d travelled like this to Greece. How luxurious and decadent she’d felt, lounging with Antonios as they ate, heads bent together, murmuring and laughing, buoyant with happiness.

Utterly different from the silent tension that snapped between them now.

Antonios gestured to the dishes as she sat down. ‘I didn’t know what you wanted, so I ordered several things.’

‘I’m sure it’s all delicious.’ And yet she had no appetite. Antonios lifted the lid on her meal and she stared at the beef, its rich red-wine sauce pooling on her plate, and twisted her napkin in her lap as her stomach rebelled at even the thought of eating.

‘You are not hungry?’ Antonios asked, one eyebrow arched, and Lindsay shook her head.

‘No.’

‘You should eat anyway. Keep up your strength.’

And God knew she needed what little she had. She picked up her fork and speared a piece of beef, putting it into her mouth and chewing mechanically. She couldn’t taste anything.

Antonios noticed, one eyebrow lifting sardonically. ‘Not good enough for you?’ he queried, and she let out a little groan.

‘Don’t start, Antonios.’

‘I can’t help but wonder, when you had every luxury at your disposal, how you still managed to be so unhappy.’

‘There is more to life than luxuries, Antonios. There’s attention and support and care.’ So much for her resolution not to talk about things.

‘Are you saying I didn’t give you those?’ Antonios demanded.

‘No, you didn’t. Not the way I needed.’

‘You never told me what you needed.’

‘I tried,’ she said wearily. She felt too tired to be angry any more, even though the old hurt still burrowed deep.

‘When? When did you try?’

‘Time and time again. I told you I was uncomfortable at all the parties, never mind playing hostess—’

His brow wrinkled and Lindsay knew he probably didn’t even remember the conversations she’d found so difficult and painful. ‘I told you it would get better in time,’ he finally answered. ‘That you just needed to let people get to know you.’

‘And I told you that was hard for me.’

He shrugged her words aside, just as he had every time she’d tried to tell him before. ‘That’s not a reason to leave a marriage, Lindsay.’

‘Maybe not for you.’

‘Are you actually saying you left me simply because you didn’t like going to parties?’

‘No.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I left you because you never listened to me. Because you dumped me in Greece like another suitcase you’d acquired and never paid any attention to me again.’

‘I had to work, Lindsay.’

‘I know that. Trust me, Antonios, I know that. You worked all the time.’

‘You never acted like it bothered you—’

She let out a laugh, high and shrill, the sound surprising them both. ‘You never change, do you? I’m trying to tell you how I felt and you just keep insisting I couldn’t have felt that way, that you never knew. This is why I left, Antonios.’ She gestured to the space between them. ‘Because the way we were together in real life, not in some fairy-tale bubble in New York, didn’t work. It made me miserable—more miserable than I’d ever been before—and that’s saying something.’

He frowned. ‘What do you mean, that’s saying something?’

‘Never mind.’ She’d never told him about her mother, and never would. Some things were better left unsaid, best forgotten. Not that she could ever forget the way her mother had left.

This isn’t what I expected.

A hot lump of misery formed in Lindsay’s throat and she swallowed hard, trying to dislodge it. She didn’t want to cry, not on an aeroplane, not in front of Antonios.

‘Theos, Lindsay, if you’re not going to tell me things, how can I ever understand you?’

‘I don’t want you to understand me, Antonios,’ she answered thickly. ‘Not any more. All I want is a divorce. And I assume you want that, too.’ She took a shaky breath. ‘Do you really want to be with a wife who left you, who doesn’t love you?’

Fire flashed in his eyes and she knew it had been a low and cruel blow. But if that was what it took to get Antonios to stop with his questions, then so be it.

He leaned forward, his eyes still flashing, his mouth compressed. ‘Do I need to remind you of how much you loved me, Lindsay? Every night in New York. Every night we were together in Greece.’

And, despite her misery, desire still scorched through her at the memory. ‘I’m not talking about in bed, Antonios.’

‘Because you certainly responded to me there. Even when you were supposedly drowning.’

She closed her eyes, tried to fight the need his simply stated words caused to well up inside her. Sex had always been good between them, had been a respite from the misery she’d faced every day. Maybe that made her weak or wanton, to have craved a man who’d hurt her heart, but she had. From the moment they’d met, she had. And some treacherous part of her still craved him now.

She felt Antonios’s hand on her knee and her eyes flew open. ‘What—?’

‘It didn’t take much to make you melt,’ he said softly, the words as caressing as his hand. His hand slid up her thigh, his fingers sure and seeking. Lindsay froze, trapped by his knowing gaze and his even more knowing hand. ‘I knew just where to touch you, Lindsay. Just how to make you scream. You screamed my name, do you remember?’

Heat flooded through her and she had to fight to keep from responding to his caress. ‘Don’t,’ she whispered, but even to her own ears her voice sounded feeble.

‘Don’t what?’ he asked, his voice so soft and yet also menacing. ‘Don’t touch you?’ He slid his hand higher, cupping her between her legs. Just the press of his hand through her jeans made her stifle a moan as desire pulsed insistently through her.

‘What are you trying to prove, Antonios?’ she forced out, willing her body to stay still and not respond to his caress. ‘That I desire you? Fine. I do. I always did. It doesn’t change anything.’

‘It should,’ Antonios said, and he popped the button on her jeans, slid his hand down so his fingers brushed between her thighs, the sensation of his skin against hers so exquisite she gasped aloud, her eyes fluttering closed. Couldn’t keep her hips from lifting off the seat.

Lindsay pressed her head back against the seat, memories and feelings crashing through her. He always had known just how to touch her, to please her. He still did, but there was no love or even kindness behind his calculated caresses now. With what felt like superhuman effort she opened her eyes, stared straight into his triumphant face, and said the thing that she knew would hurt him most.

‘You might make me come, Antonios, but you can’t make me love you.’

He stared back at her, his expression freezing, and then in one deft movement he yanked his hand from her, unbuckled his seat belt and disappeared through the curtains.

Lindsay sagged back against her seat, her jeans still undone, her heart thudding, and swallowed a sob.

* * *

Antonios strode down the first-class aisle, feeling trapped and angry and even dirty. He shouldn’t have treated Lindsay like that. Shouldn’t have used her desire, her body against her.

Shouldn’t have been that pathetic.

What had he been trying to prove? That she felt something for him? He stood in the alcove that separated the first class from business and stared out into the endless night. He didn’t know what he’d been trying to do. He’d just been acting, or perhaps reacting, to Lindsay’s assertion that she didn’t love him. That their love hadn’t been real.

It had sure as hell felt real to him. But he’d told her he didn’t love her any more, and he needed that to be true. He’d made sure it was true for the last six months, even as he’d maintained the odious front to his family that their marriage was still going strong. He’d had to, for his mother’s sake as well as his own pride.

Or maybe you were just actually hoping she’d come back. Fool that you are, you still wanted her back. Because you loved her. Because you made promises.

And was that what was driving him now? The desire, the need to have Lindsay back in his life? Back as his wife? Or was it an even more shameful reason, one born of revenge and pride? Did he want to make her hurt the way he had, to pay for the way she’d treated him?

Antonios had no answer but he was resolved to stop this pointless back and forth, demanding answers that he knew would never satisfy him. The reasons she’d given him for leaving their marriage had been ridiculous. Maybe he had been working too hard, maybe he’d even ignored her a little, but that didn’t mean you just walked out.

Except to Lindsay it seemed it did, and nothing, no revenge or explanation, could change that cold fact. His mouth a grim line of resolution, Antonios headed back to their seats.

Lindsay had tidied herself in his absence, her jeans buttoned back up, her face turned towards the window. She didn’t move as he slid into the seat next to her. Didn’t even blink.

‘I’m sorry,’ Antonios said in a low voice. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’ Lindsay didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge his words in any way. ‘Lindsay...’

‘Just leave me alone, Antonios,’ she said, and to his shame her voice sounded quiet and sad. Broken. ‘It’s going to be hard enough pretending we’re still in love for your family. Don’t make it any harder.’

He watched her for a moment, part of him aching to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear, trail his fingers along the smoothness of her cheek. Comfort her, when he’d been the cause of her pain and he knew she didn’t want his comfort anyway.

‘I’m going to sleep,’ she said, and without looking at him she took off her shoes, reached for the eye mask. He watched as she reclined her seat and covered herself with a blanket, all with her face averted from him. Then she slid the eye mask down over her eyes and shut him out completely.

* * *

Lindsay lay rigid on her reclined seat, her eyes clenched shut under the mask as she tried to will herself to sleep and failed. She felt a seething mix of anger and regret, guilt and hurt. Her body still tingled from where Antonios had touched her. Her heart still ached.

Forget about it, she told herself yet again. Just get through this week. But how on earth was she going to get through this week, when being in Greece had been so hard even when Antonios had loved her, or thought he had, when she’d thought she’d loved him?

Now, with the anger and contempt she’d felt from Antonios, the hurt and frustration she felt herself...it was going to be impossible. Something had to change. To give.

She slipped off her eye mask, determined to confront him, only to find him gazing at her, the hard lines of his face softened by tenderness and despair, a look of such naked longing on his face that it stole her breath. She felt tears come to her eyes and everything in her ached with longing.

‘Antonios...’

His face blanked immediately and his mouth compressed. ‘Yes?’

‘I...’ What could she say? Don’t look at me like you hate me? Just then, he hadn’t. Just then he’d looked at her as if he still loved her.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know you, not the real you. And you don’t love him. You can’t.

‘Nothing,’ she finally whispered.

‘Get some sleep,’ Antonios said, and turned his head away. ‘It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.’

* * *

They arrived in Athens at eleven in the morning, the air warm and dry, the sky hard and bright blue, everything so different from the damp early fall of upstate New York. Being here again brought back memories in flashes of pain: the limo Antonios had had waiting outside the airport, filled with roses. The way he’d held and kissed her all the way to his villa in the mountains of central Greece, and how enchanted Lindsay had been, still carried away by the fairy tale.

It wasn’t until the limo had turned up the sweeping drive framed by plane trees with the huge, imposing villa and all of the other buildings in the distance that she’d realized she’d been dealing in fantasies...and that she and Antonios would not be living alone in some romantic hideaway. His mother, his brother, Leonidas, his two unmarried sisters, an army of staff and employees—everyone lived at Villa Marakaios, which wasn’t the sweet little villa with terracotta tiles and painted wooden shutters that Lindsay had naively been imagining. No, it was a complex, a hive of industry, a city. And when she’d stepped out of the limo into that bright, bright sunshine, every eye of every citizen of that city had been trained on her.

Her worst nightmare.

She’d seen everyone lined up in front of the villa—the family, the friends, the employees and house staff, everyone staring at her, a few people whispering and even pointing—and she’d forgotten how to breathe.

Antonios had propelled her forward, one hand on her elbow, and she’d gone, her vision already starting to tunnel as her chest constricted and the panic took over.

She hadn’t felt panic like that since she’d been a little girl, her mother’s hand hard on her lower back, shoving her into a room full of academics.

Come on, Lindsay. Recite something for us.

Sometimes she’d managed to stumble through a poem her mother had made her memorize, and sometimes her brain had blanked and, with her mouth tightening in disappointment, her mother had dismissed her from the room.

After too many of those disappointments, she’d dismissed her from her life.

This isn’t what I expected.

And, standing there in the glare of Greek sunshine, Lindsay had felt it all come rushing back. The panic. The shortness of breath. The horrible, horrible feeling of every eye on her, every person finding her wanting. And she’d blacked out.

She’d come to consciousness inside the house, lying on a sofa, a cool cloth pressed to her head and a white-haired woman smiling kindly down at her.

‘It’s the sun, I’m sure,’ Daphne Marakaios had said as she’d pressed the cloth to Lindsay’s head. ‘It’s so strong here in the mountains.’

‘Yes,’ Lindsay had whispered. ‘The sun.’

Now, as she slid into the passenger seat of Antonios’s rugged SUV, having cleared customs and collected their luggage, she wondered if he even remembered how she’d fainted. He’d certainly been quick to accept it as her reaction to the sun, and she’d been too overwhelmed and shell-shocked to say any differently.

And she’d have to face his family again in just three hours. How on earth was she going to cope?

They drove out of Athens, inching through a mid-morning snarl of traffic, and then headed north on the National Highway towards Amfissa, the nearest town to Antonios’s estate in the mountains.

With each mile they drove, Lindsay’s panic increased. This time she knew what she was facing, and it would be so much worse. Now everyone would be suspicious, maybe even hostile. She could picture his sister Parthenope eyeing her with cool curiosity, her husband by her side and dark-haired, liquid-eyed little Timon clinging to her legs; Leonidas, Antonios’s younger brother, giving her one of his sardonic looks; Ava and Xanthe, his younger sisters, eyeing her with sceptical curiosity, as if they’d already decided she didn’t belong. And the questions...she would have to answer so many questions...

‘Antonios,’ she said, his name little more than a croak, and he glanced at her briefly before snapping his gaze back to the road.

‘What is it?’

She focused on her breathing, tried to keep it even. ‘Would it...would it be possible for me to come to the villa quietly? I mean, not have everyone waiting and...I’d rather not see anyone at first.’ In. Out. In. Out. With effort she kept her breathing measured and her heart rate started to slow. She could do this. She’d managed to control her anxiety for most of her life. She could do it now. She had to.

‘The point,’ Antonios returned, ‘is for you to see people and be seen. No one thinks anything is wrong between us, Lindsay.’

But they would have guessed. Of course they would have guessed. His siblings weren’t stupid, and neither was Daphne. Lindsay had been gone for six whole months and then Antonios had come all the way to New York to fetch her. Everyone would be wondering just what had gone wrong between them.

‘I understand,’ Lindsay said, her eyes closed as she pressed back against the seat and kept concentrating on those deep, even breaths. ‘But I’d rather not have everyone there when we arrive.’

‘What am I meant to do? Send them away?’

She opened her eyes as she tried to suppress a stab of irritation or even anger, wondering if he was deliberately being difficult. Or was he just obstinately obtuse, as usual? ‘No, of course not. I just don’t want them all lined up in front of the villa, waiting to welcome me.’ Or not welcome, as the case well might be.

Antonios was silent for a moment, his gaze narrowed on the road in front of them, the sun glinting off the tarmac. ‘You mean like last time.’

‘Yes.’

‘You fainted,’ Antonios recalled slowly. ‘When you got out of the car.’

So he had remembered. Just. ‘Yes.’

Antonios’s expression tightened and he turned back to the road. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said, and they didn’t speak for the rest of the journey.

Two hours later they’d left the highway for the narrow, twisting lane that curved its way between the mountains of Giona and Parnassus. They came around a bend and Villa Marakaios lay before them, nestled in a valley between the mountains, its many whitewashed buildings gleaming brightly under the afternoon sun.

Antonios drove down the twisting road towards the villa, his eyes narrowed against the sun, his mouth a hard, grim line.

As they drove through the gates he turned to the left, surprising her, for the front of the villa, with its many gleaming steps and impressive portico, was before them. Instead, Antonios drove around the back of the complex to a small whitewashed house with an enclosed courtyard and latticed shutters painted a cheerful blue. It looked, Lindsay thought in weary bemusement, like the villa she’d once imagined in her naive daydreams. A honeymoon house.

‘We can stay here,’ Antonios said tersely, and he killed the engine. ‘It’s used as a guesthouse, but it’s empty now.’

‘What?’ Lindsay stared at him in surprise. Last time they’d stayed in the main villa with all the family and staff; only Leonidas had his own place. Since his father’s death, Antonios had been appointed the CEO of Marakaios Enterprises and essentially lord of the manor.

Now he shrugged and got out of the car. ‘It will make it easier for us to maintain the pretence if we are not so much in the public eye.’ He went around to the boot of the car for their cases, not looking at her as he added, ‘And perhaps it will be easier for you.’

Lindsay stared at him, his dark head bent as he hefted their suitcases and then started walking towards the villa. He was being thoughtful, she realized. And he’d given credence to what she’d told him, if just a little.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured and with a wary, uncertain hope burgeoning inside her she followed him into the villa.

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