CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FOUR
Lynna awoke in the prettily appointed room, gritty eyed and exhausted . She had slept for maybe an hour. Most of her night had been spent making lists, thinking through every scenario she had the imagination to come up with.
No matter how she’d tried to sway the outcome, the answer remained the same.
If she took this deal, her brother and mother would have everything they desired. And all she had to do was marry a demon for two years.
No. He expected a counteroffer, and she’d give him one. One year. Six months. A day. More stipulations. She would make sure the deal outrageously favored her and her family so that Athan would never go for it.
And if he agrees?
She blew out a breath. She would not go to the lion’s den unsure. She had to be certain that this was something she was really going to agree to if she got everything she wanted. And certain of her sticking points. What she would not compromise on, even if it meant walking away from all that money and opportunity for Rhys.
She was in the position of power. If she went into that room with that kind of confidence, knowing what she wouldn’t compromise on, this would all be fine.
She was in charge.
She got ready for the day, dressing as she would for any personal chef job. She assumed when he said breakfast that she would be in charge of making it, and perhaps she’d even counted on that as something to steady her before she faced Athan down.
But when she arrived in the kitchen, his staff had clearly already taken care of everything. There were platters of food being carried out of the kitchen.
“Mr. Akakios is waiting for you on the terrace, Ms. Carew.”
Lynna didn’t scowl. It wasn’t the fault of anyone in this kitchen that she’d been ousted from the one thing she’d wanted to do this morning.
Besides, there was no way Athan would go for her counteroffer and then she could be on her way home. She could plan out her next job.
So, she walked through the kitchen and a hallway toward the terrace. Five years of coming here meant she knew where she was going. She’d served Athan out there on the terrace enough times.
Last time, in fact, a very scantily clad Regina Giordano had been his companion. Lynna had nothing against Regina—except her taste in men, obviously—but she could admit that seeing the perfect bronzed goddess wandering about in a very small bikini had given her some unpleasant thoughts about her own pale, soft body and reminded her why she’d never be caught dead in a bikini.
But Regina wasn’t here, and Lynna didn’t need to worry about swimwear because she’d be on her way home to rainy London by tonight.
She stepped outside onto the terrace and squinted against the bright morning sun. All that white and blue Mykonos was famous for. Her parents had been born and raised in Wales, but Lynna had been raised in the warmth and sun of Greece. She had visited Wales enough growing up, and lived in London for the past few years, to know she was glad for it.
In the midst of the terrace was a table. Athan lounged in one of the chairs, sipping coffee. His shirt wasn’t quite buttoned all the way, and she wanted to tell him he looked ridiculous, like some sleazy playboy.
But of course he only looked relaxed and gorgeous and every inch the powerful and magnetic billionaire he was.
But she was in charge. She lifted her chin. “I assumed I would be making breakfast for the amount you’re paying me,” she offered as she stepped out into the sun.
He stood and turned to her. “You assumed wrong.” He pulled a chair out for her. Gestured for her to take a seat.
She inhaled, quietly but deeply, trying to let the smell of the beautiful flowers mixed with sea calm her.
She knew what she wanted out of this, and if he would not give it, she did not have to take his deal. There was no reason to be nervous.
He poured her coffee. Gave it a dash of cream. She did not trust the fact he knew how she liked her coffee. No doubt it was some insidious Akakios trick.
She would fall for no tricks .
“It’s a beautiful day, is it not? Then again, it is always beautiful here. I don’t know why anyone lives anywhere else.”
“We’re not all billionaires, I suppose.”
He chuckled at that, but she hadn’t been making a joke. And she did not want to make small talk about beautiful days.
So she laid out her counteroffer. “Six months. A percentage of shares from Akakios not just in Rhys’s name, but my mother’s and mine as well—announced to the public when you give your apology to my father.”
For a moment, he only looked at her. His posture betrayed nothing. He didn’t move. But she saw the flare of something, there in his eyes. Triumph.
Run , some sensible voice in her head whispered. But she simply sat.
“One year,” he replied. “I’ve done the math, run the numbers, we will need a full year to ensure my father is ousted and stays that way.”
Well, if it was mathematical .
She didn’t have to compromise, but she could if it was logical. Factual. No emotion involved. Just getting what she wanted.
“I must be able to tell my family the truth. And my friends. It cannot be a secret why I’m doing this to the people I love. Even if I could get them to believe it, my mother would be devastated, and my friends would be…” She managed a smile—sharp as she could. “Vengeful.”
She thought that would be the sticking point. Maybe she hoped it would be.
“I can agree to that, if we work in an addendum that if any one of these people knowing the truth gets to people who use it against me, the deal will be called off with absolutely no compensation for anyone in your family. I’d choose your trustworthy companions wisely.”
No. She wasn’t going to do this. She wasn’t .
She leaned forward. “Rhys is a genius. He’s capable and good and would be an amazing asset to any company once he graduates.”
Athan leaned forward as well, so they were practically nose to nose with only the table between them. Lynna’s heart thundered in her ears, that prickling heat she refused to name spreading its serpentine way through her bloodstream.
“Then we’ll be glad to have him at Akakios,” Athan said, his voice low and smug. “Because once my father is ousted, we will need an infusion of good to fill the vacuum of all his evil.”
“You’re evil too,” Lynna said. Or maybe not so much said as whispered, because it was hard to breathe normally this close to those dark eyes, that egotistical smirk. Hate was the thing worming around in her gut. Hate, hate, hate.
“I have been,” he agreed. So damn easily. So there was nothing to fight against. She knew he did that on purpose. He did every annoying thing on purpose.
“And if you hire Rhys, mentor him, as you said. Then someday he rips AC International out from under you, what will you do?”
“I suppose that would be its own poetic justice. Wouldn’t it?”
Panic was beginning to flutter at her breastbone. Why was he agreeing? Why wasn’t he refusing? Why was this happening?
“And…what? We’d get married tomorrow night, and then just…live here while you use my name to convince people in your father’s company to go against him?”
“We can live here if you like. There’s also my place in Athens. Provence. New York. I have a charming little place amongst the fjords in Norway.”
“Norway?”
“I like variety.” He grinned. “But I spend most of my time in Athens. There will be a period of time I will need you with me, to wine and dine your father’s sympathizers to my plight. But otherwise, we need not be together, and you may do as you please as long as you wear my ring and do not engage in any affairs that might look poorly on our union.”
Something about the way he’d said I like variety had this commentary hitting her all wrong. “And you?”
“And me what?”
“Will you be engaging in any affairs that look poorly on our union?” she said, mimicking him a little bit with his own words.
“Businessmen do not quite have the dim view of such things as…”
“The victims in their little games?”
Athan sighed, as if she was very tiresome or boring.
She wanted to stab him. “I will not be the butt of a joke, even for a payment.”
“Very well. I will remain devoted to you and you only, latria mu .” He reached across the table and took her hand—but only for a second before she jerked it away.
“Would you like to invite anyone to the wedding?” he asked innocently.
She hadn’t agreed.
But you’re going to, aren’t you?
She didn’t want to, but she didn’t know how to say no to something that would potentially set Rhys up for life. It would make Mom’s life easier, her own as well. She wouldn’t constantly feel the need to take every single job. Maybe, just maybe, she could ease the pressure that sat on her chest every single day whispering to her that she was failing everyone while desperately treading water.
Sinking a little deeper every year. Keeping the overwhelming loan for Rhys’s education from her friends so they didn’t worry. From Rhys. He was so sure he was grown, so sure he could take care of himself.
But he had no idea. At nineteen , he had absolutely no idea.
All she had to do to make sure he never found out was pretend a little bit for one year. Was that really all that different than working her ass off for years? It would still be work. She’d just be working for the devil.
Temporarily.
Temporarily.
A person could withstand anything—evil, pain, et cetera—temporarily.
“I will not be inviting anyone. This will be the most embarrassing and lowering moment of my life. I wish to have no witnesses.”
He laughed at that, deep and resonant. As if anything about this was anything to laugh at, to enjoy.
“I will need to see all the papers first,” she told him tersely. “Everything spelled out, just as you’ve said. I want my loan paid off before I say I do, as leverage.”
He didn’t balk. “I live to serve.”
“You live to ruin.”
“You’re going to have to work on your pillow talk.”
It was more than enough. She hadn’t eaten anything, but still she pushed back from the table and stood. “I have to go somehow break the news to my mother. I want the papers. By tonight. I won’t say ‘I do’ until they satisfy. Until the loan is paid off.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
She didn’t trust his easy agreement at all , but she didn’t know what else to do about it. She’d have Your Girl Friday’s lawyer look over the contract, no doubt find whatever underhanded thing he was trying to accomplish, and then she could laugh in his face.
Hopefully after he paid off her loan.
She turned to walk away. To not be in his orbit so she didn’t have to think too deeply on what she’d just agreed to.
“Oh, there’s one little thing we did not discuss,” he called after her, his voice lazy.
“What?”
“Consummating the marriage.”
She whirled around to face him. Was he mad ? But he was smiling at her, in that very…male predator type of way. Like he’d even want to… Well, she didn’t and never would. So. “Never.”
“Don’t issue a challenge, Lynna,” he said, still so lazy and unbothered. “I love a challenge.”
For a moment she felt simply caught in the laser focus of his dark gaze. Then she remembered herself and whirled away again. “You’ll love being a corpse then,” she offered as her parting shot.
And then she hurried back to her room so she could call her mother, call her friends and have everyone talk her out of this insanity.
* * *
Athan straightened the tie of his tux in the full-length mirror. Everything had worked out. After longer than he’d liked, and a few more negotiations than he had planned on, Lynna had signed the papers. He had paid off her loan.
Now they were getting married.
He couldn’t categorize the strange feelings that seemed to stir up. There was satisfaction, of course. His father hadn’t bested him yet. Money was no object, so it wasn’t as though helping Lynna and her family had any effect on his bottom line.
But he had the strangest sensation of nerves accosting him. No, not nerves, because he refused to accept he was nervous. It was anticipation. For the next step in his plan. It was an uneasiness born of the fact Lynna was not exactly…predictable.
He wouldn’t be surprised if she simply did not show up. If she’d taken the money and run. But it seemed cowardly.
Lynna was no coward.
He appreciated that about her. She might hate him and think him the very devil, but he held a certain amount of respect for the way she’d dealt with her life since her father had passed. A certain amount of fascination with how she’d found a way to thrive.
He would even hold her up as a kind of example. He would thrive in this place where he’d been put at a disadvantage.
He was told it was time to begin the ceremony, so he made his way down to his private portion of the beach. A platform had been set up with an elaborate arbor at the end, filled with vines and colorful tropical blooms. The officiant waited there, and they would be married under the arch.
So long as Lynna did not back out.
Athan went over to the officiant and thanked him for coming. Made some small talk while staff moved around setting everything to rights. The sun had begun to set, a beautiful sunset with riotous colors painting the sky. A truly beautiful setting.
Most of the plans were Regina’s—the flowers, the colors, the beach setting. He didn’t think Lynna would mind since this was her version of hell.
Since she had not invited anyone, and obviously his father and Regina’s family were no longer coming, there were no guests. Only the officiant and the staff—his own and those he’d hired to handle the event.
“Ah, there’s the bride,” the officiant offered, nodding toward the end of the platform.
Lynna walked out by herself, though a staff member in all black helped her up onto the platform she would have to walk down to meet him at the end with the officiant.
He hadn’t seen her in anything other than careful black with colorful chef accents since they were young. Perhaps her eighteenth birthday party that he’d been roped into going to. They’d shared a dance. She’d been pretty and charming. A completely different person.
Now she wore white. An elegant white gown he had tasked one of his assistants with procuring since he knew Lynna would likely try to marry him in black if he let her. It nipped in at the waist, highlighting what she usually hid—an hourglass figure with curves interesting enough to be distracting. She was on the taller side, but still she wore heels. Her hair was in careful waves around her shoulders, though some strands were pinned up with sparkling gems and some fell around her face.
She looked like an angel in a painting. Soft and ethereal. Regal and majestic. He could watch her walk down this aisle forever. Even with that scowl on her face. Or maybe the scowl was part of it.
When she made it to the end of the aisle, she regarded him with a cool distance. “I take it this wasn’t Regina’s dress.”
“I’m a billionaire, darling, I don’t need to have my fiancées share wedding dresses.”
“Well, that’s good since one leg of mine probably wouldn’t fit in a dress that fit Regina.”
It sounded suspiciously like jealousy, which was very, very interesting. “You look beautiful, paidi mou .”
She lifted her chin, fixed her gaze on the officiant. She didn’t look at Athan at all. “I’m aware,” she muttered, making him smile. “And you should be aware I only agreed to this costume for the pictures you insisted we needed.”
“Lucky me,” Athan murmured.
He thought she might stab him if she had a pointy implement. But all she had was a bouquet of flowers and a deal to uphold.
Athan nodded at the officiant, a sign for him to begin. And so he did, speaking words of love and fidelity, promises and forever. If it made him a little itchy , he supposed it was only because he didn’t fully believe in such things.
People were such terribly complicated creatures. Full of malice and spite and hate. Unforgivable mistakes that haunted for a lifetime. And while he’d tried to make his adult life less of all those things rather than more, it didn’t mean he expected to be forgiven for what had come before. It didn’t mean he trusted anyone to engage in love and fidelity forever .
Certainly not the woman saying “I do” who hated him and was only doing this to pay some debts that weren’t even really hers to pay.
Who scowled at him, even as he slid a hefty diamond onto her finger.
“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant announced happily.
The scowl turned into something a little more like concern. She took a step away from Athan.
“I don’t think—”
“Come, latria mu . I know how private you are, but we must have a picture of our first married kiss. For the scrapbooks.”
If looks could kill, she would have made an excellent hit man. So, before she could mount another argument, he kissed her. Just swooped in, curved his hand around the back of her head and pulled her in.
For the picture .
But he was also no fan of denial. He preferred dealing with a problem head-on. He preferred action , and he’d been wanting to know what she tasted like for far too long.
Sweet. Like the sugary confections she was so good at making. As soft in his arms as she looked. A surprising cocoon of warmth, right here as his mouth learned hers.
Because she didn’t push him away, didn’t even stiffen. He either took her enough by surprise or she understood the importance of the picture to allow him to kiss her.
He wouldn’t say she participated , exactly. At first. But when his tongue traced the seam of her lips, they parted. When he drew her just that much closer, she went and even leaned into him, her hands coming up to his chest.
For a moment he thought she’d push, but she didn’t. She just rested them there.
So he went deeper. His fingers threading through her hair, adjusting the angle to really test the contours of her mouth. To glut himself on the confection that she was, here in his arms, kissing him back.
It was a little too potent for public consumption, and he had just enough self-preservation instinct to realize that. To carefully pull himself back. To settle himself before he dared look at her.
When he did, she blinked her eyes open. There was a moment of softness there. Her cheeks were pink, nearly red.
Then her expression morphed into horrified .
But not unmoved. Her chest rose and fell, and she stared at him in a kind of open-mouthed daze.
“Did you get the photo?” he asked the photographer, not taking his gaze off her. Not dropping his hand from where his fingers were in her hair. His body veritably buzzed , every muscle as hard as steel. He might have had a hard time catching his own breath if he didn’t have this to focus on.
“Yes, sir.”
“Make sure it looks like it’s been leaked to the press against our will by midnight.”
“Yes, sir.”
Some of that horror and not unmoved started to shift in Lynna’s expression to fury , so he wisely dropped his hand and turned so they could walk back up to the terrace. He held out an elbow for her to take.
He could all but feel the rage pumping off of her, but she was his wife now. She didn’t have to pretend to love him very often, but she was stuck with him anyway.
It was quite the interesting arrangement. After another few moments where she stared at his outstretched elbow, then around the beach, she shook her head and began to walk ahead. She did not take his elbow.
“There’s been a delicious dinner prepared,” he said, following her in his own leisurely stroll, ignoring the desperate need for action raging around inside of him. Though she marched ahead, he kept up easily enough. “The cake, I’m sure, won’t stand up to what you would have made, but it will be good all the same.”
“I’m not in the least bit hungry,” she returned, every word bit off in anger. “I’m going to go to my room.” She stepped inside, him behind her. “I’m going to take this ridiculous getup off.” She marched over to the stairs. “And I am going to sleep hoping when I wake, the nightmare is over.”
He followed her up the stairs, and down the hall. Watching in fascination as she began to rip the little bejeweled hairpins from her hair, releasing curl after curl of hair. A strangely violent movement, followed by a graceful gentle one.
He had a feeling even without anger, this was the heart of her. Strong, careful precision and an effortless elegance she didn’t even realize she had, she was . He found himself desperate to touch it once more.
She opened the door to her bedroom, but turned to glare at him when he acted as if he might follow.
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “You probably need help getting out of your dress.”
“I’d chew out of it with my own teeth before I let you help me.” Then she slammed the door in his face.
It didn’t bother him. In fact, he found himself smiling. Practically humming on his way down the hall to his bedroom.
He had one year to take down his father.
And one year to seduce his alluring and surprising wife.
Plenty of time for both.