Greek Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride (The Rosso Family Series, #1) (4 page)

“Cancer.” Gaia unzipped the bag and began to unpack. Claire was glad for once that she’d packed light—and carefully. “A terrible thing. He hid it from the family for as long as he could, but all the staff knew he was not well.”

Claire sat on one of the overstuffed chairs. She rubbed her neck, and asked, “Antonio mentioned a pool—well, two pools. Do you think I could nap by one? A swim would loosen my muscles, too.”

Gaia turned, hands folded in front of her. “Of course, miss.”

“Call me Claire, please. I take it you’ve been with the Rosso family a long time?”

“Years. I came with Mrs. Rosso when she married. Ah, such a lovely woman. She died too young. A car accident. The girls look very like her, but Antonio is more like her personality.”

“Stubborn? Bossy?” Claire put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. My mouth always gets away from me when I’m tired.”

Gaia smiled. “No, that is just what Mrs. Rosso was like, too. Also, very persistent. She was the only one who could wear down Mr. Rosso—she won every argument. Now I will lay out a towel for you at the poolside. If you go back to the main floor, go left and down the hall. The French doors at the end open to the pool. I will bring you some tea, yes?”

“That would be great.”

Fifteen minutes later, Claire had changed into her black one-piece suit. She slipped her feet into sandals and headed downstairs. The pool stood in the middle of a garden area, partly shaded by tall cypress. Three cabanas also provided shade and seating. A towel and a silver tea set with both hot and iced tea had been placed in one of the cabanas. Toeing off her sandals, she headed for the pool and dove in. The cold water took her breath. She surfaced, sluiced the water from her hair, and smiling up into the sunshine. After a few laps, she climbed out of the pool and headed for the cabana. She dragged a chair into the sun and stretched out.

Gaia stepped out from the house with a tray of food. “This is
fourta ke yaourti
—a Greek fruit salad for you—to keep up your energy.”

“Gaia, it looks wonderful.”

“
Efkharisto
.” Gaia put down the tray and folded her hands in front of her. “Do you stay long in Greece?”

Claire shook her head. She probably shouldn’t gossip, but she had wanted to get information from Gaia, so an exchange seemed only fair. “No, I don’t plan to.”

She debated about telling the woman how Antonio had tricked her into—there was something about the older woman that invited confidences. Maybe it was just that she seemed interested, with her dark eyes and easy smile.

“Antonio said you would be dining in—do you have any special requests for dinner?”

Claire shook her head. “Nothing fancy. Whatever you were planning to cook is fine with me.”

“You will swim some more?” Gaia asked. She glanced at Claire and gestured to her arms. “You will need to be cautious, or you will be getting sunburned. You are not accustomed to our sun.” With a nod, Gaia headed inside.

Claire ate some of the fruit and then retreated to a lounge chair inside the cabana. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift, but Antonio kept coming to mind.

She’d met him years ago, in the Athens airport—she’d literally had fallen into his arms. Her sandals had been new and the soles slick, causing her to slide across the floor. She’d landed in a heap of arms—Antonio’s arms. He’d held her—the most gorgeous man she’d ever laid eyes upon, his hands strong on her, his eyes as blue as the Aegean Sea. She’d gasped in shock, her skin tingling—but she hadn’t wanted to let go of him.

She gave a sigh. All that had changed—he’d been the man she’d never forgotten. But now that he was back in her life, she didn’t know what to do with him, or with his marriage proposal. Why couldn’t life ever be simple?

***

“C
laire?” Antonio was calling to her. His voice rough and full of need.

She smiled and shifted. They’d been walking along the white sand beaches of Elafonissi on Crete, and Antonio had dragged her to the sand with him. He’d covered her mouth with his, his hands roaming over her body. He’d stripped away her swimsuit—or it had vanished somehow, and his skin pressed against hers, hot and wet. He slipped into her with ease and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She gave a small moan.

“Claire?”

His voice had sharpened, but why was he calling for her if she was next to him? She reached for him, but suddenly he wasn’t there. And she could hear the harsh echoes of Matthias Rosso’ mocking laughter.

Sitting up, she knocked Antonio’s hands loose from her shoulders. She blinked and put a hand to her head. She had been dreaming.

Dreaming about making love on the beach with Antonio.

He stood over her, smiling. She almost wanted to put a hand over her swimsuit, but it wasn’t like it was a skimpy one-piece. It was, however, wet between her thighs. She could smell her own arousal—and she hoped he thought it was tanning lotion. He was eyeing her as if she had nothing on—and as if he knew of her dreams. “I came home early, and Gaia told me you were out here. She figured you had probably gotten enough sun for one day.”

Claire blinked. She pulled her towel around her waist. “I didn’t mean to sleep that long. Do I have time for a shower before dinner?”

“Take all the time you want. I’ll meet you in the drawing room for drinks.”

Tugging her towel tighter, she ran for her room. Inside, she leaned on the door and closed her eyes. That dream had been so real—so...so wonderful. She had remembered how strong Antonio had felt with his body covering hers—how skilled he’d been at making love.

Opening her eyes, she shook her head. “You are not falling for him,” she said, but she didn’t know if she could keep to that. And she didn’t add the word—
again
.

She showered and changed into a pale-blue cotton dress. She brushed out her hair and left it loose and long, and dabbed on some makeup. She pulled a face at herself in the mirror. She wasn’t doing this for Antonio—no, she just wanted to look good in case his sisters were at dinner. And that was it.

Heading downstairs, it took a couple of tries to find the drawing room. She poked her head into a library first, then a study which tempted her since it looked a masculine refuge and she thought it might be Antonio’s room. Finally, she found him in a large, gracious room with cream walls and gold drapery. French doors opened onto a terrace that overlooked the garden. Large, comfortable chairs in floral patterned upholstery dotted the room, and two portraits hung next to each other opposite the French doors.

Antonio stood near the paintings, mixing drinks at a bar. He glanced up when she entered. “Gin and tonic?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You remembered.”

“Of course.” He handed her a drink.

She took a sip—mixed perfect, with just the right amount of lime—and gestured to the portraits. “I recognize your father. Is that your mother?”

Antonio picked up his own drink—a martini, judging by the triangular shaped glass—and nodded. “She died when I was very young. The girls don’t even remember her.”

“She was beautiful.”

“Yes, she was. My father—I don’t think he ever got over her death.”

Claire stared up at the portrait. He looked both younger and less harsh in the painting—much more like Antonio. She glanced at Antonio. “I don’t really know what your relationship was like with him before he died, but I’m sure everything he did in his life was intended to be for the best.”

“And it so rarely turned out that way. We are the perfect example of that.” Antonio was silent for a moment, and then he trailed the fingertips of one hand down her arm lightly. “I know Matthias believed that if I fell in love with you and married you, he would end up losing me and he couldn’t let that happen. He wanted me to do as he wanted...and he was horrible to you. I am sorry for that.”

“We were both pretty young back then.”

“You were pretty—I was just young.”

Smiling, Claire glanced at the portraits again and moved a step away. She had to—Antonio’s touch was driving her nuts. She wondered if Matthias would have been a different man if his wife had lived. A happier one, and perhaps less controlling? She looked at Antonio. “But that doesn’t really forgive him for what he did. What a mess he’s left you!”

Antonio put down his drink and took her hand. “Right now, I don’t want to think about him, or talk about him.” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I want to kiss you. I’ve been wanting to kiss you since you walked into that conference room.”

“That’s a really bad idea.”

“Why so bad? There is no one to tell us no.” Antonio held her gaze. He leaned closer. He smelled of warm musk and sandalwood. He skimmed his hand down her throat. Dipping his head, he covered her lips with his and nibbled on her bottom lip.

Claire tried not to respond, but she might as well have asked her heart to stop beating. The touch of his lips against hers had her clenching her hand around her drink glass. She shouldn’t...but oh, he tasted so good.

She parted her lips, and that seemed to break the dam. Antonio wrapped a hand in her hair and deepened the kiss. He explored the depths of her mouth with his tongue. His free hand caught her by the waist.

The ice in her drink rattled and that woke her from the waves of pleasure stealing her senses. She stepped back and told him, “I can’t do this. I—”

Antonio put a finger on her lips. “I’ll keep my distance if that is what you want. For now, let us eat.”

H
is sisters were dining in Athens—Alexandra had texted him—which meant it was Antonio and Claire only at the dinner table. Antonio took one look at the formal table and asked for dinner to be served on the terrace. The evening was perfect—warm with only a faint breeze.

In a few moments, Gaia had the staff light candles, set china in place, pour the wine and lay out the silverware. Antonio pulled out a chair for Claire. She perched on the edge, but Gaia’s lamb
souvlaki
wrapped in warm pita bread, with tomato, onion and
tzatziki
was enough to soften anyone’s mood. Gaia served up pasta with Kalamata olives and feta cheese, and they finished the meal with baklava dripping in honey and ouzo.

Antonio watched Claire the whole time. He couldn’t get enough of her even features and her sparkling eyes. He kept remembering how her breasts had always fit perfectly in his hands. He was certain they would still—and from the way she had kissed him earlier, he knew he might seduce her into a marriage. They would enjoy each other for a month, and then they could part as friends. He was certain of that. And how much better that would be to have fond memories of each other.

And part they would. She had her own life, her own career. She had made that clear to him. But he still needed a wife.

After dinner, he suggested they watch a movie. His father had built a theater in the east wing of the house. He let Claire pick the movie and not surprised in the least when she chose a romantic comedy. She curled up in the luxurious theater seat. And he asked Gaia to have someone bring them popcorn later.

He knew Claire had been nervous—he had felt the tension in her beside the pool and later when he had mixed her a drink. His own body was tight with need for her, but he would not rush her.

Twenty minutes into the movie, he looked over at her. She had fallen asleep, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. Standing, he strode to her side and scooped her into his arms. She snuggled into his chest.

He carried her up the stairs, pushing her bedroom door open with his shoulder. He settled her onto the bed, straightened and stared down at her.

She looked adorable curled up, her legs bare and a touch of sun warming her skin. He remembered how she had always preferred bare feet to wearing shoes. He grabbed a light throw from the end of the bed and tossed it over her.

He stood beside her bed, watching her for several long minutes, wondering how much of what had happened between them could be blamed on his father, and how much of it was of their own doing. Not that it mattered. The past was gone and could not be relived. He needed to look to the future.

His sisters’ trusts should remain sound, but Antonio knew he would feel better once he had control over the Rosso estate and the banking empire his father and grandfather had built. Hell, Greece needed that empire sound and functional just now. His father had been wise and had diversified and expanded his interests, which put the Rosso family in a good position to now help others.

But in order to do anything, he needed a wife first. And he found it difficult to think of marrying anyone other than Claire—she would certainly keep to any agreement he made with her.

Leaning over, he placed a kiss upon her forehead, and then headed to his downstairs office.

He placed a call to his secretary, promising her a bonus if she came through for him. He wanted a list of every recording studio in or around Athens that sold state of the art equipment—Aegis Studios must own or work with one or two of them. He would give Claire access to anything she needed to keep her career going for the next month—after all, she was supposed to spend the next month narrating a documentary. He would make certain she could do that here in Greece.

He also placed a call to his friend, Dareios Anaganos.

“Tonio? What’s up?” Dareios said.

He sounded a little drunk, so Antonio said, “Please tell me you aren’t at a party?” The only thing Dareios liked more than fun was fun with girls. Antonio heard a giggle in the background.

“Okay, I won’t tell you. What’s up? I heard you were at the studio today.”

“Word gets around fast.”

“Hey, you were crazy enough to make me CEO—I have to earn my salary doing something. Have you given any more thought to the idea of branching into the music industry? I’ve got a proposal almost put together.”

“Meaning you’ve been thinking and haven’t put anything on paper.”

Another giggle sounded in the background, and Dareios said, “That’s what secretaries are for.”

“Dareios, are you sleeping with the staff?” Antonio had roomed with Dareios when they’d been at Cambridge together. He knew all too well just how much Dareios liked the opposite sex.