Greek Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride (The Rosso Family Series, #1) (10 page)

Walking forward, Claire touched the top of the wall that edged the stone terrace. “Wow—it’s the view that’s great.”

He came up to her and pointed. “There—in the distance. That’s Athens—or just a part of it.”

She smiled and breathed in deeply. “It’s beautiful.”

Reaching out, he touched a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “You looked so beautiful today. I like your hair like this.”

“You can thank Eva for that. She’s a genius. Do I have time for a bath before dinner? Is there a bath?”

He smiled. “Of course. We have hot water from a hot spring, and a soaking Roman tub as well as a claw foot tub someone brought here in the eighteen hundreds. Go take your bath.”

She headed inside. He turned and headed to the garden.

He had to stop beside his mother’s grave. It was a stop he made every time he came to Kato Antikeri. Mrs. Thanopolis had put fresh flowers on the marker. Antonio bent down and brushed his fingers over the engraving.

I’ve brought someone for you to meet, mama
, he thought.

Standing again, he wondered what his mother would have thought of Claire. Would she have thought Claire too timid? She had been unable to stand up to Matthias, as his mother once had. Would his mother have thought Claire not fit for the family? But he had a feeling his mother might have liked Claire—might even have taken her side against Matthias. He shook his head. He had no idea what women ever thought about.

Turning, he headed inside to talk to Mrs. Thanopolis about dinner—and he tried not to think that tonight was his wedding night.

What had started out as a good idea from his sisters to bring Claire to Kato Antikeri was now looking like deliberate sabotage on their part. They were going to be the only company for each other.

Mrs. Thanopolis prepared fish for dinner. She’d had the table set when Claire came out in a pair of cut-off shorts and a black tank top. Antonio’s mouth dried. She hadn’t worn a bra and her perfect breasts tempted him to dine on her instead of the meal.

Eyes huge, Claire glanced at the table. “This is quite the feast.”

Antonio started to heap food onto her plate. “This is
spanakorizo
, a spinach risotto, and you like
keftedakia
.”

“Yeah, meatballs.” She sat down next to him.

“These are lamb, and
pilafi me throumbi
, and Mrs. Thanopolis remembered my favorite,
kremidotiganites
, which are onion fritters. There is also a bean salad from the garden.”

Mrs. Thanopolis came out carrying a small cake. She grinned and spoke in Greek and Antonio translated for Claire. “She has baked a cake for us. A traditional one for those just married of honey, sesame seed, and quince, which is said to symbolize an enduring commitment to each other.”

Claire’s cheeks pinked. She looked down at her plate. Antonio thanked Mrs. Thanopolis and told her and her husband—and son—to please take off for the rest of the night. Grinning, Mrs. Thanopolis wished him a good night and gave him a wink.

He opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass for Claire. “Let us drink—an enduring commitment means we can be friends, yes?”

Head lifting, Claire picked up her glass. “Yes. To being friends—at the least.”

He clinked his glass against hers. The glasses were simple and short—practical. The plates were just as practical and rough. The food was delicious, but Antonio had more enjoyment watching Claire eat.

She rolled every bite around her mouth, made small noises at the back of her throat, and licked the honey from the cake from her lips in a way that left his pulse pounding. He gave her more wine and watched her relax.

This was how he wanted her—happy.

They ate and talked. Or rather, he let Claire talk about her work. He knew very little about voice work, and once Claire got going she rambled on, talking with her hands as well as her voice. He knew she had met with Nick Stavos, and he’d been happy to find that Nick was a man twice Claire’s age, and also a man who seemed more obsessed with his documentary than anything else. Claire spoke of the work with excitement in her voice.

After the meal, Antonio stood and held out his hand. “Do you want to finish your wine on the terrace? We can look at the stars.”

“No, let’s do the dishes for Mrs. Thanopolis. She cooked, so she shouldn’t have to wash up.”

Dropping his hand to his side, Antonio stared at her. “But she’s paid to cook and clean.”

Standing, Claire gathered up the plates. “Don’t be such a snob. Come on, you can dry.”

Antonio blinked at her, but he followed her into the kitchen. She cleared the table, digging out foil to wrap the leftovers, and also nibbling on them. She popped a black olive into his mouth with her fingers, and he almost caught her hand to suck off the last bits of salty taste from her fingers. She grinned at him and tossed him a kitchen towel. “Dry.”

“I don’t know how to dry. I’ve never done dishes.”

Starting the water running in the sink, she turned to him. “Now who’s full of can’t? Come on, it’s not that bad.”

She dug out dish soap from somewhere, and started to wash and rinse the dishes. She handed him plates, pots, silverware—he dried each and stacked them on the counter.

“No, no—put them away.”

“Where?” he demanded.

She flicked a finger of soap bubbles at him. “Where they go.”

Catching her around the waist, he pulled her close. “I don’t know where they go.”

“Then find out,” she said and slipped away.

When she had the last dish washed, she let the water drain and leaned a hip on the counter. “You still haven’t put them away?”

He tossed the dishtowel onto the tile counter and took her hand. “We will leave that for Mrs. Thanopolis.” Pulling her with him, he took her into the bedroom. The covers had been turned down. Lamps had been lit and left burning.

Antonio picked up Claire and threw her on the bed. He lay next to her. “Claire—”

She put a finger to his lips. “No. Don’t spoil it. It’s been a perfect day, hasn’t it?”

“Do you want a perfect night? Claire, I want you.” He stroked a hand over her face. “I want you so bad I am about to burst. Let us pretend, just for a while, that nothing else exists. Just us. Just this island. Just this night.”

She nodded. “Let’s pretend.”

He stripped off her cut-offs and her tank top, then stood and stripped his clothes off just as fast. Lying down again, he put a hand on her belly. He could feel a quiver. “Relax. I promise not to bite...unless you ask nicely.”

C
laire tried to calm her nerves, but she felt like someone had electrified her skin. Antonio kissed her and she melted into the kiss. It was all too much—he was too much. But she also couldn’t get enough of him. She stroked her hands over his skin, over hard muscle and the soft hair on his arms and legs. And it wasn’t enough. Wiggling, she tried to press closer.

She’d been fighting her attraction to him forever it seemed, now she let herself kiss him the way she’d always wanted too—with abandon.

He slipped his hands over her breast. Her nipples tightened. He pulled and rubbed them. Moisture pooled between her legs.

Leaning over her, he put his mouth on her breast. She gasped and cluched the back of his head. “Antonio...please.” She wasn’t sure what she was asking—for him to stop, or do more.

Antonio seemed to know better than she did. He shifted and moved between her thighs. Easing down on the bed, he kissed the inside of her thighs, her stomach, her hip—and then he dove in between her legs.

She gasped and gave up. Part of her whispered,
You can’t...you can’t
. She told that part of her head to shut up. Waves of pleasures rolled over her. She gave herself over to them and let them sweep her away. Heat washed through her in ripples.

Antonio lifted his head and she dragged at his shoulders, pulled his mouth to hers. He tasted like her—salty and wet. Taking him in her hand she guided him into her. “Please,” she said again, and this time she knew what she wanted. She wanted him—his heat, his passion, his body.

He pushed into her slowly. She wasn’t a virgin—Antonio had seen to that—but it had been a long time. She winced and he slowed. She pulled at his hips. “Don’t stop.”

Leaning over her, he kissed her and then thrust deep. She gave a cry. He pulled out and pushed in again. This time pleasure washed through her. He set up a hard pace, pushing in deeper and deeper. She loved it—no one had ever fit her body as well as he had. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she let go of everything—every bit of control.

She wanted him to break, too, but he kept to that same even pace until she lost it and the world vanished. She could feel him inside her, hot and spurting. He gave a groan and held still over her. Sweat slicked their bodies and Claire put a hand on the back of his neck. “Friends still?” she asked.

Antonio gave a grunt and rolled off her, but he pulled her into his arms and held her trapped against his body. She could feel when he fell asleep—his breathing evened, his arms and legs went limp and heavy. But Claire stayed awake, staring at the lamplight and wondering how was she going to get through heartache a second time.

T
he next day dawned with clear skies and calm seas. Antonio planned a picnic and swimming. They did both. They also made love on the beach. Claire had been shy at first about taking off her swimsuit. “What if someone comes by?”

Antonio laughed. “Then they’ll get an eyeful.” He’d yanked off her swimsuit straps.”

She’d given a yelp and had dove into the water, but he’d come after her and had swept her into his arms and kissed her senseless.

What happens on Kato Antikeri stays on Kato Antikeri
, Claire decided.

That night, she stripped for him in the lamplight while he lay naked on the bed, one hand stroking himself. She watched how his hand moved and then crawled onto the bed on her hands and knees and pressed herself on his body. She kissed him—his chest, his nipples, his belly. She took him into her mouth and sucked hard and copied how he’d stroked himself using her tongue instead of her hands. He’d come in a hot spurt and then had pressed her onto her back and returned the favor.

The next day they’d showered together and had gone swimming again. Coming back to the Villa Livia, Claire asked, “Where is your mother’s grave.”

Taking her hand, Antonio took her to the gardens in the back. Jasmine grew wild here, as did the roses in small buds. He gestured to the marker. “This was her favorite spot. She liked the mountains more than the sea—she always said you cannot trust the sea, but land will feed you and care for you.”

Claire smiled. “I think I’d have liked your mom.”

Taking her hand, Antonio pulled her into the bedroom. That afternoon he made love to her with slow care—and Claire thought she still had not made him come apart the way that he could take her apart.

She also started to count the days they had left. Four remaining now before they had to go back to a pretend marriage instead of...of whatever this was. Was this real? Or was this actually the pretend? She didn’t know.

Antonio took her hiking into the mountains to see the sheep. She picked an olive and bit into it—and found it sour. Antonio laughed at her. “You have to soak them in brine before you eat them.” But he found wild strawberries to pick and bring back for Mrs. Thanopolis to put in honey and yogurt.

The days slipped past all too fast, and Claire woke the last morning to hear the drone of the sea plane. Their time had ended. She glanced over at Antonio, still asleep next to her. She wanted to memorize his face—the straight line of his nose, the firm jaw, the small mole near his right ear. The sun had bronzed his face and chest. His dark hair curled now—and his black eyelashes seemed extravagant against his cheekbones. She put a hand on his chest where she could feel his heart beat. Had she touched that heart? Or was this just pleasure for him?

Getting up, she showered and dressed and tried to put some kind of armor back on.

After breakfast, Claire found her bag already packed. Mrs. Thanopolis hugged her, Mr. Thanopolis bowed, and their son Stephen handed her a bouquet of wild flowers. Claire wanted to cry. But she pushed up her chin and forced smile.

She didn’t look back as she trudged down the stairs to the sea plane.

***

A
thens seemed dirty, hectic and loud after a week at the Villa Livia, Antonio thought. He sent Claire onto the estate and stayed in the city to deal with paperwork. Their marriage had been required, but there was still more paperwork to deal with before he could finalize his inheritance. Meanwhile, the businesses needed supervision.

At least he knew that Eva and Alexandra would look after Claire, and she had her recording studio to keep her busy. He knew that her engineers, Steve and George, had gotten everything set up—Dareios had let him know about that.

Antonio stayed in the city that night—and the next. He told himself the businesses needed him, but he knew he needed to distance himself from Claire. That week on Kato Antikeri had been amazing—but Claire would want to go back to her own life soon. All too soon. And Antonio wasn’t certain he wanted to let her go. But how could he keep her?

The truth was he’d fallen for her—again.

This time, however, he’d gone into this with his eyes open and knowing exactly how things must work out. But he kept trying to think of ways to keep Claire with him—and he kept thinking he would only end up ending her career and making her unhappy.

He finally couldn’t stand not seeing her and headed out to the estate.

He found Claire in the drawing room, pacing and talking on her cell phone. “No, Brenna, it’s going to be a couple more weeks before I’m home. But tell them I can get the work done here—I’ve got an amazing studio here, and Steve and George. And if they need to send the director here to get the job done, is he really going to bitch all that much about a trip to Greece?”

Antonio froze in the doorway.

Claire kept pacing, her back to him. “Okay. If I lost that job, I’m not that worried. I know...I know, but one job does not unmake a reputation. If they can’t wait, tell them to get someone else. You know, sometimes it’s good to be hard to get. Okay—yeah. Text me and let me know.” She hung up and turned. Her cheeks pinked. “Antonio, I didn’t—I didn’t think you’d be home today.”