The Greek's Bride of Convenience
Auteur
Helen Bianchin
Lezers
19,4K
Hoofdstukken
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CHAPTER ONE
HOT, HUMID SOUTHERN hemispheric temperatures prevailed, shrouding Sydney’s tall city buildings in a stultifying summer heat-haze capable of frazzling the most even temperament.
Traffic in all city-bound lanes had slowed to a standstill, and Lexi spared a quick glance at her watch as she waited for the queue of cars to begin moving again.
A faint frown furrowed her smooth brow, and her lacquered nails played out an abstracted tattoo against the steering-wheel as she pondered her brother’s telephone call of the previous evening. The serious tone of David’s voice had proved vaguely perturbing, and no amount of cajoling had persuaded him to reveal any information.
Lexi shifted gears as the lights changed and she sent the sports car forward with a muted growl from its superb engine.
The movement of air teased tendrils of dark auburn hair loose from its careless knot atop her head, and she lifted a hand to brush them back from her cheek. Designer sunglasses shaded golden hazel eyes, and her attractive fine-boned features drew several admiring glances as she made her way into the city.
A wry smile twisted the edges of her generous mouth in the knowledge that as much of the envious speculation was for the aerodynamic lines of her brother’s near-new red Ferrari 348 as it was for the girl driving it. Wealth wasn’t everything, she silently derided, and natural good looks could prove a handicap—something she’d discovered to her cost.
Such thoughts were detrimental, and she determinedly shut out the past by deliberately concentrating on negotiating the heavy inner-city traffic.
Ten minutes later a soft sigh of relief escaped her lips as she turned into the car park beneath a towering modern block housing her brother’s suite of offices. Using extreme care, she eased the red sports car down two levels and brought it to a smooth halt in its reserved parking bay.
Gathering up her bag, she slid to her feet just as another car pulled into a nearby space, and her eyes widened fractionally at the sight of an almost identical Ferrari. The coincidence of two expensive Italian sports cars parking within such close proximity was highly improbable, and she watched with detached interest as the driver emerged from behind the wheel.
He was tall, she noticed idly, with an enviable breadth of shoulder evident beneath the flawless cut of his jacket, and he moved with the lithe ease of inherent strength. His hair was dark and well-groomed, and the broad-chiselled bone-structure moulded his features into rugged attractiveness.
Features that were vaguely familiar, and yet even as she searched her memory there was no spark of recognition, no name she could retrieve that would identify him.
As if sensing her scrutiny he lifted his head, and she was unprepared for the dark probing gaze that raked her slim curves in analytical appraisal before returning to settle overlong on the soft fullness of her mouth. Then his eyes travelled slowly up to focus on her startled expression.
She felt a surge of rage begin deep inside, and its threatened eruption brought a fiery sparkle to her beautiful eyes. How dared he subject her to such blatantly sexual assessment?
Impossibly angry, she turned towards the car, locked the door and activated the alarm, then she crossed to the lifts to jab the call-button with unnecessary force, silently willing any one of three lifts to descend and transport her to the fifteenth floor.
It irked her unbearably that she should still be waiting when he joined her, and she stood silently aloof until a faint hydraulic hiss heralded the arrival of a lift. As soon as as the doors slid open she stepped forward with easy grace into the electronic cubicle, pressed the appropriate digit on the illuminated panel, then stood back in silence, mentally distancing herself from the man’s physical presence.
A faint prickle of apprehension feathered the surface of her skin, which was crazy, for he posed no threat. Yet she was frighteningly aware of his studied evaluation, and she hated the elusive alchemy that pulled at her senses. She was damned if she’d give him the satisfaction of returning his gaze. Who did he think he was, for heaven’s sake?
A sobering inner voice silently derided that he knew precisely who he was, and without doubt his action was a deliberate attempt to ruffle her composure.
Somehow she expected him to voice any one of several differing phrases men inevitably used as an opening gambit with an attractive woman, and when he didn’t the rage within only intensified, for it gave her no opportunity to deliver a scathing response.
It took only seconds to reach the fifteenth floor, but it felt like minutes, and so intense was her need to escape that she stepped from the lift the instant the doors slid open, unable to prevent the feeling that she was fleeing from a predatory animal.
A sensation that was as totally insane as it was out of perspective, she mentally chided as she entered the foyer of her brother’s suite of legal offices.
‘Good morning, Miss Harrison,’ the receptionist greeted warmly. ‘Mr Harrison said to go straight through.’
‘Thanks,’ Lexi proffered with a faint smile as she continued past the central desk and turned down a corridor leading to a large corner office which offered panoramic views of the city and inner harbour.
‘David,’ she greeted as the door closed behind her, accepting the affectionate brush of her brother’s lips against her cheek before she subsided into a nearby chair. ‘Thanks for organising my car into the repair shop. I’ve parked the red monster in its usual space.’
David’s eyebrows rose in a gesture of feigned offence. ‘Monster, Lexi?’
A faint grin curved her generous mouth. ‘Sorry,’ she corrected, aware that the Ferrari represented an unaccustomed flamboyance in his otherwise staid existence as one of Sydney’s leading barristers. ‘Your magnificent motoring machine.’
As the son and daughter of one of Australia’s most respected financial entrepreneurs, they had each achieved success in their own right, choosing to decline any assistance afforded them by virtue of their father’s considerable wealth and position.
‘Have you any plans for tonight?’
Her eyes widened slightly. ‘I can’t imagine you need to resort to your sister’s company through lack of a suitable female partner.’
His glance was level and strangely watchful as he offered a light bantering response. ‘Now that your decree absolute has been granted I thought we might celebrate by having dinner together.’
An entire gamut of emotions flitted in and out of her expressive eyes, and for a moment he glimpsed her pain before a wry, faintly cynical smile tugged the edges of her mouth.
Despite her reluctance, memories sharpened into startling focus. The dissolution of her marriage meant that she no longer bore any affiliation, legal or otherwise, to a man who had deliberately pursued her for the fame of her family name and the considerable fortune he imagined would be his to access at will as the husband of Jonathan Harrison’s daughter.
Paul Ellis had epitomised every vulnerable young girl’s dream and every caring parent’s nightmare, Lexi reflected with grim hindsight. Within weeks of returning to Australia from a two-year working stint in Europe she met Paul at a party, and became instantly attracted to him. Blindly infatuated, she had discounted her father’s caution, disregarded David’s advice, and married Paul three months later in a whirl of speculative publicity.
To Jonathan’s credit he had concealed his concern and provided a wedding that had proved to be the social event of the year.
Mere days into a Caribbean honeymoon Lexi’s dream of marital bliss had begun to fragment as Paul voiced a series of protests. The home her father had presented them with as a wedding gift was considered by Paul as too small for the sort of entertaining he had had in mind, and his disappointment in Jonathan’s failure to appoint his son-in-law to the board of directors had been compounded when Lexi had refused to exert any influence in Paul’s favour. His sudden enthusiasm for a child had raised doubts in Lexi’s mind, and when she had elected to defer pregnancy for a year he’d lost his temper and the rift between them had become irreparable.
Paul, when faced with the fait accompli of legal separation, had filed claim for a huge financial settlement and threatened court proceedings if his demands were not met.
One of David’s colleagues had conducted such superb legal representation that Paul’s case was thrown out of court.
Concentrating on her modelling career, Lexi had declined her father’s offer to occupy his prestigious Vaucluse mansion, opting instead to live alone in a beautifully furnished apartment at Darling Point overlooking the inner harbour.
At twenty-five she was considered to be one of Sydney’s top models, and work provided a panacea that helped relegate Paul to the past.
The experience had left her with a cynical attitude towards men to such an extent that she chose not to date at all, preferring the company of Jonathan and David on the few occasions it became necessary for her to provide an escort.
Now Lexi met David’s steady gaze with equanimity. ‘That’s the momentous news you wanted to discuss with me in person?’
He was silent for a few long seconds as he chose his words with care. ‘Part of it.’
Her eyes widened fractionally at his hesitation.
‘Paul has somehow discovered Jonathan is at present undertaking extremely delicate negotiations with a Japanese consortium to finance a proposed tourist resort on Queensland’s Gold Coast,’ he revealed slowly, and Lexi cast him a puzzled glance.
‘In what context can Paul pose any threat?’
‘He has made a demand for money.’
‘Why?’ she demanded at once.
David seemed to take an inordinate amount of time in answering. ‘He is threatening to sell his story of the marriage break-up to the Press, detailing how he was discarded by the Harrison family without a cent.’ His lips twisted. ‘The fact that Paul deliberately set Jonathan’s fortune in his sights and preyed upon your emotions is immaterial,’ he informed cynically. ‘The Press, at Paul’s direction, will have a field-day. Especially when it can run a concurrent story of the extent of Jonathan’s financial involvement in the Japanese deal.’
Lexi didn’t need to be told just how Paul’s supposed plight would be highlighted. Without doubt he would portray the injured party to the hilt, invoking reader sympathy against the plutocratic Harrison family. As long as there was some basis of fact the truth was unimportant with some tabloids, and the major criterion was saleable copy.
‘But surely the Japanese consortium is astute enough not to allow personalities to enter into any business dealings?’
‘Indeed,’ he agreed drily. ‘However, they will acquire their tourist resort regardless of whether Jonathan’s company is the majority shareholder or not. There are other viable companies which would clutch at any straw in their struggle for power.’
Lexi didn’t need to be enlightened as to her ex-husband’s duplicity. ‘The price for his silence is a financial settlement,’ Lexi concluded, her eyes hardening until they resembled dark topaz. ‘A settlement he was legally unable to obtain when we separated.’
‘Unfortunately it isn’t that simple,’ David declared slowly. ‘Jonathan is as yet unaware of Paul’s intention. With your help I intend to keep it that way.’
Her eyes flashed with brilliant gold. ‘Paul has no scruples whatsoever, and I’m damned if I’ll allow you or Jonathan to pay Paul what amounts to blackmail on my account. It would only be the beginning, and you know it!’
David moved to stand beside the wide expanse of plate-glass, his expression pensive and incredibly solemn as he appeared to admire the view. After what seemed an age he turned towards her and thrust hands into his trouser pockets.
‘The Japanese deal is important to Jonathan.’ He effected a negligible shrug. ‘But its failure or success is immaterial in the long term. There are other deals, other opportunities. However, in this particular issue the element of timing is crucial, and with Jonathan’s health at stake I’ll do anything in my power to prevent him from suffering any unnecessary stress.’
A painful hand clutched at her heart, and her voice became husky with concern. ‘What’s wrong with Jonathan?’ Her eyes clung to his. ‘Why haven’t you told me?’
‘Because there was no point until all the tests were conclusive,’ David said gently. ‘His only option is a triple bypass, and surgery is scheduled for the beginning of January. Timed,’ he added wryly, ‘at Jonathan’s insistence, to coincide with the anticipated conclusion of the Japanese negotiations. In the meantime it’s essential he leads a quiet life with minimum stress.’ He drew a deep breath as he surveyed her pale, stricken features. ‘I hardly need to tell you what effect Paul’s threatened publicity will have on Jonathan if we’re unable to prevent it from erupting prior to surgery.’
The fact that her indomitable human dynamo of a father was victim of a heart disease was more than she could bear. ‘It’s that serious?’
David reached out and caught hold of her hand. ‘You must know he’ll have the best surgeon,’ he reassured gently. ‘And such operations are now considered routine.’
Lexi could only look at him blankly, her mind filling with conflicting images and an unassailable anger that anything Paul attempted might damage her father’s health. ‘What possible solution have you come up with?’ she managed at last.
David seemed to take his time, then offered quietly, ‘Paul’s adverse publicity attempt will look extremely foolish if you were already heavily involved, even engaged, to a man who is sufficiently wealthy to finance the necessary fifty-one-per-cent stake. A man who could present the role of adoring fiancé with conviction.’ Seeing her silent scepticism, he lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture as he sought to assure. ‘With careful orchestration and the right publicity we could ensure that any demands Paul sought were seen to be merely a case of sour grapes.’
‘Since I’m not romantically involved with anyone, just who do you propose to link me with?’ she queried with deceptive calm, then said with categoric certainty, ‘It won’t work.’
‘It has to work,’ David insisted. ‘I can provide sufficient delaying tactics for a week or two on the premise of considering Paul’s demands.’
‘And the man, David? Just who is this paragon who will give his time to act out a charade?’ A faint bitterness crept into her voice. ‘And what’s his price?’
‘Georg Nicolaos,’ he revealed slowly. ‘And there is no price.’
‘I find that difficult to believe,’ she replied with scepticism. ‘Everything has a price.’
‘Jonathan’s association with the Nicolaos family is well known. He has entered into several joint financial ventures with Alex and Georg Nicolaos in the past. It will come as no surprise if, now that your divorce from Paul is final, Georg Nicolaos is seen escorting you to a variety of functions during the run-down to the festive season.’ A faint smile tugged the corners of his mouth. ‘It will be alleged in the gossip columns that you and Georg have enjoyed a clandestine relationship for some time, and now that you’re legally free Georg is losing no time in staking his claim.’
‘Are Alex and Georg Nicolaos involved in this particular venture?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what if Paul suspects it’s merely a smokescreen?’
‘I will utilise all my legal ability to persuade him we’re more likely to take a magnanimous view of his demands now you’re considering marriage with Georg. I can gain time with negotiations by insisting that Paul sign a document indicating he has no further financial claim on acceptance of an agreed amount.’
She gave him a look of scandalised disbelief. ‘So you do intend to pay him?’
‘A token sum, commensurate with the length of time he was married to you.’ His good-looking features hardened into a mask of distaste. ‘Added to the car and furniture he spirited out of the house within hours of your leaving him, the total value will be more than generous under the circumstances.’ His expression gentled. ‘Four weeks, Lexi—five at the most. Surely it’s not too much to ask?’
She hesitated, unwilling to voice her own reluctance for fear it would sound ungrateful in light of the caring support her father and brother had each given her during the past two years. ‘I can hardly refuse, can I?’ she said at last, and glimpsed the relieved satisfaction in his eyes.
‘In that case, I’ll contact Georg and arrange for him to meet us this evening.’
So soon? Yet logic demanded there was no reason for delay.
Almost as if he sensed her reserve, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. ‘I’ll call for you at six-thirty.’
She possessed a wardrobe filled with designer clothes, and she mentally reviewed them in an attempt to make an appropriate selection. ‘I imagine you require me to present a dazzling image?’
‘You look fantastic in anything.’
‘Now that’s what I call brotherly love,’ Lexi accepted with a contrived smile. Sparing her watch a quick glance, she rose to her feet and delved into her bag to extract a set of keys which she pressed into his hand. ‘Thanks for the loan of the Ferrari.’
David tossed them down on to his desk and reached into a nearby drawer. ‘Here’s yours. It’s parked on level three, close to the lifts.’
‘Give me the bill,’ she insisted, ‘and I’ll write you a cheque.’
He made no demur and merely extracted the itemised account, watching as she wrote in the amount and attached her signature with unaffected flair.
Collecting her keys, she made her way towards the door. ‘I have a modelling assignment at eleven. Jacques will have a fit if I’m late.’
The Mercedes sports car purred to life at the first turn of the key, and Lexi exited the car park, then headed towards the eastern suburbs.
The address she’d been given was for a restaurant venue in Double Bay whose patron had generously donated to charity the cost of providing food for the seventy ticket-paying guests.
It was, Jacques assured, a long-standing annual event for which the particular charity involved was dependently grateful.
Parking was achieved with ease, and Lexi locked up, activating the car alarm before walking towards the main street.
She located the discreet restaurant display-board without difficulty, and traversed a wide curving staircase to the main entrance, where an elegantly gowned hostess greeted and directed her to a makeshift changing-room.
‘Lexi, you’re late,’ a harassed voice announced the instant she entered the small room, and she checked her watch with a faintly raised eyebrow.
‘By less than a minute,’ she protested as she deftly began discarding her outer clothes. ‘The fashion parade isn’t due to begin for another half-hour.’
‘Time which must be spent perfecting the hair and make-up, oui?’
The models were due to take to the catwalk at precisely eleven-thirty, displaying a variety of exclusive labels for an hour, after which lunch would be served, followed by customary speeches and the giving of a few token awards.
Thank heaven today’s modelling assignment was being held indoors in air-conditioned comfort, Lexi consoled herself more than an hour later as she hurriedly discarded an elegantly tailored suit and reached for a superb evening gown, the final selection in a superb fashion range.
Yesterday had involved a beach, searing sun, hot sand, and a gathering of ogling, wolf-whistling young men intent on upsetting her composure.
Modelling was hard work, and often the antithesis of its projected glamorous image, Lexi mused as she took her cue and moved out on to the small makeshift stage. Her hazel-gold eyes were wide and clear, and she portrayed graceful dignity as she took to the catwalk, pausing momentarily as she executed a series of choreographed movements; then she returned to the stage to effect one final turn before slipping through the curtain to backstage.
‘The restaurateur has set a table aside for those of you who wish to eat,’ Jacques informed them as he carefully slid the last garment into its protective cover. ‘Of course, there is no obligation to stay.’
The three other models opted to remain, while Lexi shook her head in silent negation. ‘I can’t. I have a dental appointment in half an hour.’
He gave a typical Gallic shrug. ‘Tomorrow at three, Lexi,’ he reminded her, and she nodded in acquiescence as she cast her reflection a quick glance before collecting her bag.
‘I must fly, or I’ll be late.’
Slipping out of the changing-room, Lexi quickly manoeuvred her way between tables, inadvertently bumping into a solid masculine frame which seemed to appear out of nowhere.
Her hand clutched his arm in an instinctive attempt to steady herself, and a faint smile parted her lips accompanied by a few words in murmured apology.
Words that froze in the back of her throat as she recognised the man with whom she’d shared a lift only a few hours earlier.
This close she could see the fine lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, the deep groove slashing each cheek.
He possessed an animalistic sense of power, as well as an indefinable sensual quality that was infinitely dangerous to any sensible woman’s peace of mind.
There was a degree of mocking amusement evident in the depths of his gaze, and Lexi became aware that she was still clutching his arm.
She snatched her hand away as if burned by fire, and her eyes flared to a brilliant gold as she regained the power of speech. ‘I’m sorry. Excuse me,’ she added in a huskily spoken afterthought as she made to move past him.
‘You are not staying?’
His drawled query held the faintest accent, and the sound of it sent a tiny shiver of alarm scudding down the length of her spine.
‘No.’
His gaze was steady, his brown eyes dark, inscrutable depths in which it would be all too easy to become lost, and there could be no doubt that he possessed sufficient sensual expertise to melt the hardest heart.
But not hers, she assured herself silently. Definitely not hers. She’d travelled that particular road before, and there was no way she intended being hurt again. By any man.
He made no comment, and merely inclined his head in silent mocking acceptance of her decision.
The desperate need to get away from him surprised her, and she lifted a hand to push back the length of her hair in a gesture that was born from nervous tension.
A fact that was unsettling, given her exclusive schooling, she acknowledged as she made her way towards the foyer. And after her disastrously short marriage to Paul she had managed to acquire a protective façade she considered virtually impregnable.
It was after five when Lexi entered her luxurious Darling Point apartment, and her arms were laden with an assortment of brightly coloured carrier-bags that held Christmas gifts for Jonathan and David, as well as an exquisite new perfume she’d bought for herself.
With a sigh of relief she closed the door behind her, eased off her shoes, then carried her purchases through to the spare bedroom. From there she made her way into the kitchen and poured herself a long cool drink of orange juice, then she drifted into the lounge and sank into one of several soft leather chairs.
It had been an unsettling day, fraught with surprises, and she needed ten minutes in which to relax and think.
Blind dating—if dining with Georg Nicolaos could be termed that—was something in which she’d never indulged, and she was reluctant to begin, even given such an essentially worthy cause.
Any choice she might have in the matter was a mere fallacy, for there was no choice, she decided wryly. Somehow she had to endure being in the constant company of a man she’d never met for the next five weeks; to smile and laugh, and generally give the impression that she was relieved and delighted that their romance, which had supposedly been kept under wraps for months, was now out in the open.
Without doubt it would tax her acting ability to the limit.
With a sigh of resignation she stretched her arms above her head and flexed her shoulders, then rose to her feet and made her way into the bedroom, where she stripped, and took a shower in the adjoining en suite bathroom.
Lexi was ready a few minutes before six-thirty, her long hair confined into a knot atop her head from which she deliberately teased free a few soft-curling tendrils. Make-up was deliberately understated, with the accent on subtle shadings of eyeshadow, a touch of blusher, and soft clear rose colouring her lips. The gown she’d chosen was black with a cleverly designed ruched bodice and figure-hugging skirt. It came with a stole which she casually draped across her shoulders, and her feet were encased in black Jourdan slender-heeled shoes.
‘Beautiful,’ David complimented warmly when she opened the door at his summons.
‘Thanks,’ she accepted without guile as she preceded him into the lounge. ‘Would you like a drink?’
‘I told Georg we’d meet him at seven.’
Lexi cast him a quick glance before collecting her evening-bag from a nearby mahogany table. ‘In that case, I guess we’d better not keep him waiting.’
Double Bay was a popular ‘in’ place to eat, hosting a variety of exclusive restaurants, and it wasn’t until David led her to a familiar flight of stairs that she realised their destination.
‘I was here this morning on a modelling assignment.’
‘Really? Georg is known to favour a few worthy charity organisations.’
A brief flicker of surprise lit her features. ‘Georg Nicolaos owns the restaurant?’
‘It belongs to the Nicolaos family,’ David corrected. ‘Georg assumed a personal interest in it after the death of his father. If you remember, Alex and I attended university together.’
A darkly handsome figure sprang to mind, formidable and intensely Greek. ‘I seem to recollect hearing Alex had married.’ A faint gleam sparkled in the depths of her eyes. ‘His wife has my sympathy.’
‘Dear lord, why?’
Lexi gave a husky laugh. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, David! Alex is one of the most frighteningly sexy men I’ve met. The woman who managed to snare him must be quite something.’
‘Samantha is charming,’ David allowed, before giving his name to the hostess at the desk.
‘Ah, yes, Mr Harrison.’ Her smile was practised, bright, and deferential. ‘Mr Nicolaos has instructed me to let him know the moment you arrive. If you’d care to follow me, I’ll direct you to your table. Mr Nicolaos will join you shortly.’
‘You seem to be very much in favour,’ Lexi teased minutes after they had taken their seats, and David effected a self-deprecatory shrug.
‘I’ve known the family a long time. Alex waited tables between college and university semesters in the days when his father headed the restaurant. As did Georg and Anna.’
‘I find it strange that, although I’ve met Alex on a number of occasions over the years, I have yet to meet his brother.’
David leaned well back in his chair, a habit he unconsciously adopted whenever he was about to choose his words with care. Lexi wondered if he was aware of it, and why he should do so now.
‘Perhaps because Alex chooses to adopt a stand on certain political issues, and enjoys a prominent social existence.’
‘And Georg doesn’t?’ she queried idly.
‘Not to the same degree.’
Her eyelids flicked wide. ‘Why? Is he a recluse? Or does he not enjoy the company of women?’
David’s gleaming humour was somehow directed to a point somewhere beyond her left shoulder.
‘On the contrary,’ a deep slightly accented, vaguely familiar voice interjected in a silky drawl. ‘I very much enjoy the opposite sex.’
Lexi turned slowly to find her worst fears were confirmed, and a silent scream of rejection rose against the irony of fate that Georg Nicolaos and the driver of the red Ferrari were one and same.
