Mediterranean Mavericks: Greeks
Feeling everything inside her clench, she forced her ears to tune in to the conversation.
Now it really did fly over her head.
When it came to financial matters, the most Alessandra ever needed to know was the amount in her personal and business bank accounts and what income and outgoings she had. When she heard the word securities banded about in all earnestness, the only thing her brain conjured up were her bodyguards.
She wasn’t stupid; she knew that. But finance was its own separate language, one she didn’t know how to translate.
Kerstin did. Kerstin spoke fluent finance.
Alessandra placed a hand on her belly as if by covering it she could protect the tiny life within from the thoughts raging through its mother’s head.
By marrying her, Christian had deprived himself of a marriage that would be far better suited to him.
Kerstin would be perfect. She had the physical attributes he so desired—Alessandra doubted any man would get bored of making love to her—but, more importantly from her husband’s point of view, there would be no juggling of time, no compromise. Kerstin would flit into his life as if she’d been born there and then, when her father retired, she and Christian would take over the running of his bank together.
Dio, now her brain was running away from her. She couldn’t make it stop.
They’d been in the woman’s company for twenty minutes and already Alessandra had mapped her entire future out for her.
Christian had never wanted to marry. He’d given up his freedom for their baby. He was trying to accommodate the mother of his baby into his life as well as he could.
He might never have wanted to marry but he did want children.
If he’d met Kerstin tonight as a single man, would he too have grasped what an ideal wife she would have made for him?
They’d have been perfect together, could have made beautiful babies over a set of spreadsheets then whispered sweet nothings about the world of finance into each other’s ears until the early hours of every morning.
‘Are you okay?’ Christian asked quietly, breaking into her runaway thoughts.
She swallowed and jerked a nod. ‘I think I have indigestion,’ she said, uttering the first thing that came into her mind.
His blue eyes studied her, a question mark in them.
‘I must have eaten too many spanakopita,’ she expanded, referring to the mini filo-pastry pies stuffed with spinach and feta she’d taken a liking to. At her last count she’d eaten eight of them.
Her appetite had deserted her now. Her stomach felt so tight she doubted anything would go down.
‘Would you like to go home?’ Did he have to look so concerned when she was playing an imaginary game of marrying him off to someone else? A more suitable someone else.
‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She forced a smile. ‘Carry on with your conversation—I need to visit the bathroom.’
A few minutes later, after a sharp talking to herself in the privacy of a cubicle, she was washing her hands when Kerstin walked in.
The hot, burning feeling in Alessandra’s brain immediately started up again.
‘Is something the matter?’ Kerstin asked.
Dio, now Christian’s future imaginary wife was looking at her with concern.
‘Not at all.’ She forced another brittle smile.
A knowing expression came into Kerstin’s eyes. ‘My sister have a baby soon. You are the same, ja?’
‘How can you tell?’ Not only was she beautiful and intelligent but also psychic.
‘My sister has had many babies,’ Kerstin said with a laugh.
‘Please don’t tell anyone,’ Alessandra beseeched. ‘We’re not ready for the world to know.’
‘All those men chasing you with their cameras…is not nice.’
Beautiful, intelligent, psychic and empathetic?
Had a more perfect woman ever been born?
Kerstin looked openly at Alessandra’s belly. ‘I think you hide it for not much longer. Soon you will show.’
She stated the latter with such certainty that for a moment Alessandra was tempted to ask exactly how much later, right down to the hour.
Instead she fought back the sudden spring of hot tears welling in her eyes.
Kerstin saw them too and placed a comforting arm around her shoulder. ‘Your hormone will feel better soon.’
Alessandra gave a shaky laugh, accepting the tissue Kerstin magically produced.
At least she had one advantage over the beautiful German woman. Her own English was much better.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Christian said. They’d been in the car for ten minutes since leaving the embassy and Alessandra had spent the entire time gazing out of the window.
She’d become increasingly quiet since their wedding. It was only tonight, when she’d been her old, sociable self, that he’d realised quite how withdrawn she’d become.
Was he the cause? Had his mother’s prediction already started coming true?
He wanted to reach out to her and find out what troubled her but didn’t know how.
She raised a shoulder—the bare shoulder he’d spent the evening trying not to stare at. It had been an effort of epic proportions that had failed. That one naked limb had acted like a beacon to his eyes. The rest of her had acted as a beacon to his senses.
Holding her hand, feeling her warm, slender body brushing against him…
All the good work he’d done in recent weeks building a distance from her had crumbled.
Theos, he ached for her. Ached to possess her all over again with a burn so deep it was like fighting through treacle fog to remember why he had to keep his distance.
‘Are you going to take Kerstin on?’ she surprised him by asking.
‘I haven’t decided.’ On paper Kerstin was an ideal candidate for his ever-growing empire, having the perfect qualifications and aptitude. Her father was a long-standing, respected member of the finance community. Yes, on paper she was ideal.
But he hadn’t imagined the tension emanating from Alessandra when he’d been talking to her. He didn’t want to do anything that would make his wife uncomfortable.
‘I think you should.’
‘What? Take her on?’
Alessandra turned her head to look at him. Her features were still, sombre, even. ‘She’s perfect.’
It was too dark to read her eyes.
‘If I were to take her on in the capacity she and her father have requested, she will do a lot of travelling with us,’ he stated carefully.
‘She will do a lot of travelling with you,’ Alessandra clarified. ‘In another month or so, we can stop zigzagging the world together. Our schedules will thank us for it,’ she added drily.
‘Let us consider that in another month,’ he said, his mouth filling with an acrid taste at the thought of travelling without Alessandra by his side. The acridness turned sweet as he thought of how travelling made her sleep. How many hours had he spent these past few weeks on his jet, taking advantage of her oblivion to study her sleeping form, reminding himself over and over why he could only look at her? Theos, he wanted to touch her so badly.
She raised her shoulders in a sign of nonchalance, a smile playing on her lips. It was too dark to tell if her eyes smiled too. ‘I do think you should consider taking Kerstin on. Every billionaire should have a decent protégée.’
‘I thought our child would be a good candidate as my protégé.’
‘It will be a long time before our child is old enough for that. Consider Kerstin as practice.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ he mused. Taking Kerstin under his wing would certainly strengthen the ties between himself and her father, Gregor, a very powerful man in the European banking world. To take Kerstin under his wing would put Gregor in his debt. Debts of a personal nature were their own form of currency.
Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t hesitate. As Alessandra had pointed out, Kerstin was perfect. She was highly intelligent, multilingual and already had an excellent grasp of his business. His job would involve fine-tuning that grasp.
Moonlight seeped in the windows, the light bouncing off Alessandra’s bare arm, giving it a silver glow.
That naked arm. How could any man concentrate on anything for longer than a few seconds with that in his eyeline?
All it made him think of was the rest of her naked too.
Do not think of her naked.
It was hard enough sitting in an enclosed cabin in the back of a car with her without bringing memories of her beautiful naked form to his mind’s eye.
Self-enforced celibacy clearly did not agree with him.
How could any man cope with celibacy whilst living with such temptation?
He gave a silent prayer of thanks as his driver turned the car into the long driveway.
They were home.
In silence they entered the villa. The live-in staff had long since retired to their own quarters for the night.
Tiny nightlights glowed from the reception through to the living area and up the stairs, bathing Alessandra in a dim light that magnified her sultry beauty.
The ache in his groin, far from diminishing as he’d valiantly willed it to do in the car, increased, his arousal spreading from his loins…
That damn bare arm…
She paused at the bottom of the staircase to look at him. ‘Thank you for a nice evening–’
‘You have enjoyed yourself?’ he cut in, delaying the time she would climb the stairs and head to her room.
‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ she answered with a wry smile. ‘It was hardly a night of music and dancing but it was a lot less stuffy than I expected.’
‘That’s good. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable when we go to these functions.’
She nodded, looking away. ‘Well, good night.’
He inclined his head in return, fighting to keep his feet from crossing the marble floor to her. ‘Good night.’
Holding on to the rail, she climbed the stairs and crossed the landing to her bedroom. Only when she reached her door did she turn her head to look back round and gaze down at him.
Then she disappeared inside her room, closing the door firmly behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALESSANDRA’S PHONE VIBRATED in her pocket. Grimacing, she fired off a couple more shots then carefully let go of her camera, which she kept around her neck. ‘You can change into the next set now,’ she said to the model standing in front of the white board, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy knickers and bra.
She’d spent the past three days working on a shoot for a well-known lingerie brand. With a waist that seemed to be thickening by the day, spending days with semi-clad underwear models was not doing a great deal for her ego. Her pregnancy would soon be obvious to everyone.
She pulled her phone out, her heart skipping to see Christian’s name flash up. She read his message:
Just landed. How long are you going to be?
She fired off a quick reply.
A couple of hours. Meet you at my apartment.
When they weren’t physically together, most communication between them was done via messaging. She’d steered it that way. The first time he’d called after the embassy do a month ago, her hands had gone clammy just to see his name flash up in the screen. She’d stared at it until it had gone to voicemail, wiped her hands and written a quick message back, apologising that she’d missed his call. He’d messaged straight back. The next few times she’d done the same—avoided the call and then messaged him. Since then, he’d taken to messaging her without bothering to call. It made it easier for her. Having his rich tones play directly into her ear made more than her hands clammy.
Shoving her phone back in her pocket, she forced her concentration back to the skinny model, who’d changed into another lacy number with the help of an assistant, uncaring of who in the studio saw her fully naked.
‘Left arm in an arc above your head please,’ she said, lifting her camera back up to her face.
When the final frame was taken she packed her camera away, had a quick chat with her assistant, who was happy to pack everything else up, and left the building.
Soon she was nodding at the concierge and climbing the stairs to her apartment, grabbing the extra seconds gained by not using the lift to compose her thoughts and get her emotions in check.
Only three days apart, the longest since they’d been married.
She’d hoped the distance would be good for her.
Christian sat at the dining table, cradling a coffee and eating a bowl of pasta.
‘I saved you some,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘I thought you might be getting hungry.’
Alessandra had taken her health seriously from the moment she’d realised she was pregnant but since she’d entered the second trimester, she’d become fanatical about her diet.
Food and calorie intake she could control and she did so rigidly, making sure everything she ingested was as nutritionally perfect for her baby as it could be.
It was the only thing she could control. Everything else seemed to be slipping through her fingers.
‘How was Hong Kong?’ she asked, walking over to her little office space in the corner which was a little too close to the dining table than she liked. Being in Milan made it harder for her to tune Christian out. The apartment she’d always thought of as wonderfully spacious seemed to shrink whenever he was there with her.
God knew she was trying to keep her distance from him, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
Thankfully her work load had increased. The days she wasn’t on shoots were spent developing the results, spent in meetings with directors whether in person or via conference calls; being busy.
Conversely, Christian’s workload had seemed to abate. He now made it home at a decent time most evenings.
Now it was Alessandra holing herself away, burying herself in work. Avoiding him as much as she could.
It was the only way she could keep herself sane.
She’d never imagined marriage would be so hard emotionally, a feeling exacerbated at Stefan’s wedding to the beautiful Clio a couple of weeks ago. It had been a wonderful occasion but watching them exchange their vows had brought everything back about her own wedding day and the hope she’d been foolish enough to allow through.
She’d never imagined she would feel so emotional towards him.
‘No problems,’ he said. ‘The contract was signed.’
‘How did Kerstin get on?’ Good. Her voice was normal as she spoke the German’s name.
‘Very well. She’s staying in Hong Kong for a few days.’
Kerstin had started working for him a couple of weeks before. Right at the exact time as Alessandra’s nutrition control had taken on a life of its own.
Typically of Christian, as soon as he’d decided on a course of action he implemented it immediately. He’d decided they should marry—a month later it was done. He’d decided to employ Kerstin—a fortnight later she was his new protégée.
‘That’s good.’ Taking a seat at her desk, she fired up her laptop.
‘Are you working?’
‘We don’t have to leave for half an hour.’
‘I wanted to talk.’
‘About?’
‘We need to start looking for a proper house here in Milan. One we can raise a child in.’
She shrugged. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I’ve spoken to a property agent.’
‘Naturally.’
‘I’ve shortlisted a couple of homes we can look at after we’ve seen the obstetrician.’
She could feel his eyes upon her as she placed her memory stick into the side of the laptop. Her hands trembled.
‘We need to get moving on this,’ he continued. ‘I’ve asked the agent to provide a valuation for this place too.’
She snapped her head round to stare at him. ‘I don’t want to sell it.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘We agreed…’
‘No, you agreed. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.’
Christian counted to ten in his head, fighting to keep his features neutral.
He pushed his bowl across the table and got to his feet. ‘We should leave now.’
‘We’ve plenty of time.’
‘It’s always good to be ahead of the traffic.’
He didn’t want to argue with her, especially not prior to their appointment with the obstetrician, but if he stayed another minute in this damned apartment he would go crazy.
He’d given her carte blanche to redecorate all his homes to her own taste so she would come to think of them as her homes too, and what did he get in return? Nothing.
This was Alessandra’s apartment, not his. She had no intention of ever making it theirs.
It probably wouldn’t bother him so much if not for the fact that the distance between them now came from her, a state of affairs that had grown since the embassy function. Even at Stefan’s wedding she’d been distant, when normally she thrived at social events.
If he’d thought she was happy with the status quo it wouldn’t disturb him so much but, whenever he looked in her eyes, all he saw was unhappiness. When she was with him, she withdrew into herself. He was doing everything in his power to bring her spark back but she resisted at every turn. There were times when he thought he saw glimmers of it, generally if a magazine was released with her photography in it or if they passed a billboard she’d created—her face would light up like an enchanted child’s.
It pained him to see her so withdrawn. It unnerved him. It reminded him too much of how things had been with his mother, when nothing he did made any difference to her mood.
Today, he was determined to get to the bottom of it—he would learn whatever it was troubling her and fix it, whether she wanted to talk about it or not.
She must have seen the no-nonsense light in his eyes for she pursed her lips together, slapped the lid of her laptop down and grabbed her handbag.
‘Let’s go, then.’
All was good with the obstetrician. Alessandra was healthy. Her blood pressure was normal. Their baby’s heartbeat was strong. Yes. All was good. Christian always left those appointments feeling lighter.
The good feelings dissipated quicker than normal this time. They’d visited a number of homes in excellent parts of Milan, all large enough to raise a football team, if they so wished, with rooms to spare. Alessandra’s interest had been minimal. Grudging.
It only added to his intuition that something was seriously wrong with her.
‘Let’s get something to eat,’ he said after the third viewing. Maybe she was tired.
She didn’t argue. ‘Where do you want to go?’
He was about to suggest somewhere quiet where they could talk but had a flashback of their date and the trendy restaurant she had led them to. The lively atmosphere there had certainly played its part, along with the alcohol, in loosening them up. Maybe it would have the same effect on her again. ‘Let’s go to Nandini’s.’
He shook the agent by the hand, promised to be in touch soon and waited for Alessandra to get into the back of the waiting car.
Instead she met his eye. ‘Can we walk? It’s not far.’
He gazed down at her feet. Only small heels on the black boots she wore. Almost practical. Ever the fashionista, though, she wore a black-and-white drop-waisted mini-dress. The gap between the hem of the dress and the top of her boots was tantalising him to the point of distraction.
If anyone looked closely or from a profile view, they would see the hint of a burgeoning bump beneath it.
They walked in silence down the bustling streets, past tourists and locals alike, gazing through windows at the glamorous wares of the now closed shops, and into a narrow street packed with cafés and bars. People sat on tables outside, smoking, eating, drinking and enjoying the weather.
When they’d dined in Nandini’s that last time, it had been a Friday evening and the place had been full of people ready to let their hair down after a hard week of work.
Tonight, a Wednesday, it was much quieter. Even the music was on a lower setting, no longer loud enough to burst your eardrums.
A waiter took her jacket then showed them to their booth. She slid onto the long leather seat with obvious relief.
‘Are your feet hurting?’ he asked.
‘A little.’ She opened the menu. ‘I’ve been on them all day.’
‘Then why did you want to walk?’ It made no sense to him. That was why he had a driver at his disposal at all times.
Alessandra shrugged. ‘I like walking.’ She didn’t add that she couldn’t face sitting in the back of the car with him any more.
She’d felt his irritation at her attitude to the beautiful homes they’d been shown round. And they were beautiful, palatial in size and structure, the kind of homes any little girl dreaming of being a princess would love to live in. But those little girls also dreamt of living in their palatial homes with their princes, not with the man who’d married them so he could have legal rights to their child.
It wasn’t that she worried he would bawl her out for her ungrateful attitude—God alone knew, she wished she’d been blessed with acting genes so she could fake pleasure for him—because he didn’t bawl her out over anything. She knew when she displeased him, though. He might not verbalise it, keeping his anger contained within him, but it was there in his eyes and the tone of his voice when he wasn’t quick enough to curb it.
She wished he would bawl her out. At least it would show he felt something for her, that she was worth expending some hot air arguing with.
The main reason she hadn’t wanted to sit in the back of the car with him was because spending time alone with him had the effect of turbo-charging her emotions. It would be easier to contain if it were just sexual feelings but it ran so much deeper than that. Whenever they listened to their baby’s heartbeat, she longed to reach out to him and clasp his hand, to unite for those few magical seconds.
Sitting alone in the back of the car with him, his hard, warm body so close…
She wanted to reach out and grab more than his hand. She wanted to climb onto his lap and nuzzle into that strong neck that smelled so good, taste the smooth skin…
Far from the distance she’d imposed lessening these longings, it had only increased them. She needed proper physical distance, and not just emotional distance, because keeping only an emotional distance wasn’t working. The three days apart they’d just had were nothing. Three months might do the trick.
At least tomorrow she had an overnight trip to London without him.
They ordered their meals and drinks, both opting to go straight into the main course. While they waited, they chewed on breadsticks and made idle small talk.
She remembered that first date, here in this restaurant. They’d had to sit close to each other to make themselves heard. They’d talked about anything and everything, their conversation easy.
Tonight it felt as if she were dragging barbed wire from her throat.
As was normal, Christian’s phone vibrated at regular intervals.
‘You should answer it,’ she said upon the fourth vibration.
He shrugged. ‘Whoever it is can wait.’
‘It might be important.’
His eyes fixed on hers. ‘This is important.’
‘Si, food is very important,’ she answered, as if making light of it could evaporate the growing tension.
A bowl of butternut squash and spinach ravioli with strips of crispy pancetta and flakes of parmesan was placed before her. She didn’t know which dish she liked the look of more, hers or Christian’s cotoletta alla Milanese which looked equally divine.