In that respect she’d inherited her father’s genes. His bloodline was so strong, the desire to achieve, to succeed, to prove her worth beyond doubt, irrespective of gender.
‘This … scheme has Loukas Andreou’s approval?’
The lawyer spread his hands in a telling gesture. ‘I understand he has indicated his consent.’
‘It’s outrageous,’ Alesha uttered with considerable heat. ‘Impossible,’ she added for good measure. ‘I don’t want to marry anyone.’
Loukas Andreou had been welcomed into her parents’ home on the few occasions he’d visited Sydney. She’d dined in his company, and met up with him in Athens on the occasional trip to Greece with her parents. Combining business with pleasure … or so she’d thought at the time.
Now, she wasn’t so sure. Even then, had Dimitri sown the seeds of a possible future marriage?
Loukas Andreou. The man was a force to be reckoned with in the business arena … and the bedroom, if rumour had any basis in fact.
Old money. His great-grandfather, so the Andreou biographical details depicted on record revealed, had made his fortune in shipping. A fortune added to by each succeeding generation.
The Andreou consortium owned two Greek Islands, property, residences in most European cities, and there was the private cruiser, the Lear jet, the expensive cars … the women.
The media followed and tabled Loukas’ every move, embellishing the smallest fact with gossip.
Tall, well-built frame, dark hair, ruggedly attractive facial features … he unsettled her. Almost as if he saw far more than she wanted anyone to see.
There were some secrets she’d buried so deep, no one would uncover them. Ever.
‘How long has Loukas been aware of the contents of my father’s will?’
‘It’s something you’ll have to ask him.’
She would … at the first opportunity!
Alesha glimpsed the faint lift in the lawyer’s brow.
‘You have two clear options,’ he cautioned quietly. ‘Agree to the marriage … or disagree. I strongly advise you not to make a decision until you’ve spoken with Loukas Andreou.’
She stood and indicated the consultation had reached a conclusion. The lawyer accompanied her into the lobby and pressed the call button to summon a lift.
Alesha gritted her teeth together in a need to prevent the urge to scream as the lift transported her to ground. Why had her father conspired to do what he had?
Except she knew precisely why.
Hadn’t Dimitri’s own marriage to her mother been deemed a satisfactory liaison benefitting both families?
Love? If it happened, well and good. If it didn’t, affection, family was enough to make a contented life.
Surprisingly, her parents had shared a good marriage. A little volatile at times, she reflected, remembering Dimitri’s voice raised in anger over some relatively minor conflict with her mother. A woman who’d stood her own ground and given back as much in kind. Had they shared a grand passion? Perhaps. Great affection, certainly.
Alesha had wanted the grand passion, the love generated by two souls in perfect accord. She’d thought she’d found it with Seth Armitage … only to discover he’d very cleverly played a cruel game, and her marriage was nothing more than a travesty. One she escaped from almost as soon as the ink had dried on their marriage certificate.
Dimitri, to give him his due, hadn’t vented with I told you so. He’d been supportive, caring.
Yet it hurt unbearably that behind the scenes he’d been conspiring to cement her future and the future of Karsouli. Worse, somehow, was Loukas Andreou’s complicity.
To think she’d accepted his condolences, shared his presence during the funeral service, suffered his silent watchfulness … and he knew.
Dear Lord in heaven.
Was she the only one who’d been in ignorance?
At this very moment, was Loukas Andreou already putting plans in motion to assume prime position within Karsouli?
Or had he already done that, skilfully lining everything up to ensure any hiccups would be only minor? And if he had, how could she have missed seeing it? Surely there should have been something, even subtle, that would have alerted her attention?
Yet even on brief reflection, she failed to pinpoint any one thing.
The Sydney skyline was slightly hazy in the prelude to evening dusk, the harbour assuming a darker hue as ferries left a white churning tail as they transported some of the city’s workers to the northern suburb of Manly. Her apartment formed part of a large old double-storeyed home in fashionable Double Bay, whose interior had been completely restructured into four self-contained two-bedroom apartments. Modern state-of-the-art appliances blended beautifully with the deliberate styling of the previous century.
It had given Alesha immense pleasure to add furnishings to complement the era … large comfortable sofas, antique furniture, exquisite lamps and beautiful Oriental rugs, large squares and runners providing an attractive foil for the stained wooden floors.
Home, for the past two years. Hers, alone.
Something completely different from the modern house gifted to her on her wedding day. A home she’d legally tussled over with Seth, along with his claim for a half share, together with a half share of the assets she’d brought to the marriage.
A slight shudder scudded down the length of her spine as she garaged her car.
Seth, the handsome charmer who’d played so skilfully into her hands … and who, once vows legalized their union, with his ring on her finger, had dropped the pretence he’d so carefully fostered.
Even now with hindsight, she had trouble relating the charmer to the hard, calculating monster he became.
It’s gone, done and dusted, Alesha dismissed as she entered the spacious foyer and trod the stairs to her apartment.
She was whole again, mentally and physically. Dating wasn’t on her agenda … hadn’t been since she’d walked out on her marriage. She had friends … a trusted few whose company she valued.
Life, until her father’s death a week ago, had become settled, predictable, comfortable.
Now it was about to take a backwards flip into the uncertain, and instinct warned she’d need all her wits to cope with whatever lay ahead.
Marriage to Loukas Andreou?
If it happened, it would be on her terms.
She entered the apartment, ditched her bag, laptop, toed off her stilettos, then padded into the kitchen and filched chilled water from the refrigerator.
A leisurely shower, then she’d fix dinner … and plan her strategy.
Conditions, she elaborated as she shed her tailored suit, stripped to the skin and walked naked into the en suite.
A paper marriage; separate bedrooms; separate private lives. They’d work together in harmony; confer and coordinate their social diaries in order to entertain and grace the requisite social functions.
Alesha adjusted the water dial and stepped beneath the generous spray, collected delicately scented gardenia soap and attempted to match her marriage strategy to the man Dimitri had deliberately selected as her second husband.
‘Hell’s teeth,’ she muttered with unaccustomed ire. She didn’t want a husband!
On the occasions she’d