‘I can’t marry a complete stranger,’ Dione said miserably.
‘Not even for me?’ demanded Yannis in a rough, angry voice. ‘Not even though my life and my livelihood depend on it? What sort of a daughter are you?’
He made Dione feel guilty, but even so she stuck to her guns. ‘I’d be prostituting myself.’
‘With Tsardikos? He’s an exciting male. Half the female population of Greece are after him. You’ll be the envy of thousands.’ And then he slumped in his chair and hardly seemed to be breathing.
Phrosini beckoned her out of the room. ‘We must leave him for a while,’ she said.
‘Don’t you know he’s asking the impossible?’ asked Dione, as they made their way to the hospital restaurant. ‘I haven’t said anything to my father, and I don’t want you to either, but there’s a man in England I’ve promised to marry.’
‘Oh, Dione, why didn’t you say?’ Her stepmother was full of concern.
‘How could I when my father’s so ill, and more especially after what he’s just said?’
‘And this boy, you love him?’
‘Of course.’ But Dione’s face gave away the fact that it wasn’t exactly going to be a marriage made in heaven.
‘You’re doing it because you don’t want your father to arrange a marriage for you?’ she asked intuitively.
Dione nodded faintly, her lips clamped together. When it was put to her like that she realised it was probably true. The love she felt for Chris wasn’t like the stuff you read about, but she had been happy enough—until she heard that he’d been seen with his ex-girlfriend!
‘Oh, Dione, is that really the answer? I don’t want you to be unhappy like I was with my first husband, like your mother was.’
‘I’d be happier with Chris than Theo Tsardikos,’ said Dione quietly.
‘Theo’s a good man. His offer is a lifeline to your father. In fact it might save his life. The doctors are very fearful today.’ There were tears in Phrosini’s eyes. ‘And if he doesn’t recover…well, your father’s always wanted me to carry on the business if anything should happen to him.’
Meaning she would be letting them both down. Put like that, how could she refuse? Dione breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, then took the plunge, hating herself for it but knowing it was something she had to do.
‘OK—I’ll—marry him.’ Her words floated in the air like a storm cloud threatening to bear down and drown her in a black deluge of unhappiness.
Phrosini hugged her tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘My precious child.’
There was nothing precious about it, thought Dione, but she made up her mind there and then that Theo Tsardikos would not get it all his own way. This marriage would be on her terms.
He was savagely handsome, quite the best-looking man she’d ever seen—tall, with a perfectly honed body and long-fingered, well-manicured hands. It was one of the first things she’d noticed about him. But it didn’t mean that she would eagerly jump into his bed. Quite the opposite! She would be a good and dutiful wife in every other respect. She would cook for him, entertain for him, accompany him whenever necessary, but nothing more.
Maybe this was what he wanted her to be—a good hostess? A man in his position would need someone at his side on special occasions.
And who was she trying to kid?
She had seen the way he looked at her, the way his eyes had raked insolently over her body, and she had known what he was thinking, even though she’d done her very best to ignore it.
Already she was beginning to lament her decision but her father was overjoyed when they went back to tell him, his eyes brightening and becoming alert and interested. ‘My darling daughter! You won’t regret this, I promise you.’
Dione wasn’t so sure.
She spent a sleepless night worrying about it, telling herself there was still time to back out, but then recalling her father’s pleasure. How could she deny him his dying wish?
As Dione sat outside Theo Tsardikos’ office for the second time in the same number of days her heart leapt with alarming violence. This was going to be the hardest thing she had ever done. Giving herself to a man she didn’t know was crazy. She had to be insane to do it.
And the man in question was taking great delight in keeping her waiting!
And the longer Dione waited the more irritated she became, until at last she jumped to her feet and prepared to leave. She couldn’t do this, not even for her father’s sake. No one knew the courage it had taken her to come here this morning; courage that was fast deserting her.
‘Leaving, are we?’
Dione spun round at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice and looked into a pair of amused dark eyes. ‘I’d begun to think you didn’t want to see me. I’ve sat here for twenty minutes.’
‘I’m a busy man, Dione. And you did arrive without an appointment. But now I’m all yours. Do come in.’ And he touched a hand to her arm as he led her into his office.
It was a large, airy room with a wooden floor and pale grey walls hung with photographs of his various hotels. His desk was in front of the massive window with its views over Athens, and in one corner was a trio of armchairs. Against another wall was a series of bookcases. It was clean and clinical and efficient. Like the man himself.
She headed towards the desk, prepared to sit in the seat opposite him, as she had before, but instead he steered her towards the armchairs. ‘We’ll be more comfortable here.’
Dione did not want to be comfortable; she wanted to say what she had to say and get out quickly. Not the right sort of thought when Theo was her prospective husband—though actually she was hoping that he’d had a change of heart. A hope that was quickly dashed when he flashed his wolfish teeth.
‘Can I presume that the reason you’re here is to declare that you’ll marry me after all?’
Two pairs of brown eyes met and warred, and Dione was the first to look away. ‘I’d like to be able to say no,’ she snapped, ignoring the stammer of her heart. This man was lethal. Deadly attractive but a danger all the same.
‘You’re a free agent.’ The words were tossed lightly and dismissively into the air and Dione gained the impression that he couldn’t care less. That this was all some sort of game to him.
‘Meaning you’ve changed your mind?’ she enquired sharply, mentally crossing her fingers that this was so.
‘Not at all.’ It was a simple, matter-of-fact answer; he was giving her no help whatsoever. In fact he was enjoying her discomfort.
‘In that case,’ she said in a voice not much above a whisper, ‘I’ll do as you ask.’
‘I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.’
Damn the man! A satisfied smile played about his sculpted lips and his eyes were filled with amusement. She felt pretty sure that he had heard. He just wanted to hear her say it again. He liked seeing her squirm.
‘I said, I’ll do as you ask.’ There, was that loud enough for him? She’d projected the words as though she was throwing a missile, hoping they’d smash into his face and wipe some of the pleasure off it.
No such luck! His smile widened and deepened and