Australia: Gorgeous Grooms. Trish MoreyЧитать онлайн книгу.
friend, a man whose company she’d shared with her parents’ friends and business associates on a few occasions at various social events. Instinctively aware, even then, that when he played, he played to win … in business, and with women.
Through circumstance he’d won Karsouli … together with her as part of the package.
‘Shall we go eat?’
Food wasn’t foremost on her mind, although she sipped excellent vintage wine, sampled succulent morsels from no less than three courses, while engaging in meaningless conversation.
The economic state of the nation and the world’s foremost leaders made for interesting debate and carried the hour with relative ease. Something for which she was immensely grateful.
‘Do you still have regular contact with Lacey?’
Alesha wondered if Loukas’ query related to genuine interest, or merely a shift to the more personal.
‘Regularly,’ she answered lightly. ‘We share dinner each week, occasionally take in a movie. Go shopping together.’
‘I seem to recall you were a keen advocate of tennis. Do you still play?’
‘Not as often as I used to.’ She took an appreciative sip of fine wine. ‘Do you still travel extensively?’
‘My father prefers to remain in Greece these days.’ He affected a slight shrug. ‘Andreou has offices in London, Milan and New York, and I alternate between each of them while overseeing the main office in Athens.’
‘And now you’ve added Sydney to the equation.’
One eyebrow lifted in sardonic query. ‘That still bothers you?’
‘I have no alternative but to accept it.’
‘It’s a little late to change your mind.’
‘How are your parents? Your sister Lexi?’
‘They’re well. My mother is on various committees, which consume some of her time. Lexi designs handcrafted jewellery and has a studio in the Pláka.’
‘And your Aunt Daria?’ It was a polite query and resulted in a musing smile.
‘She remains a force to be reckoned with.’
Plain-spoken to the point of bluntness, Alesha remembered as she recalled a visit to Athens with her parents several years ago when they’d spent time with Angelina and Constantine Andreou.
‘That appears to take care of family and friends,’ Alesha managed lightly. ‘Should we move on to the more personal? The master breeding plan, perhaps? I trust you’re aware the male sperm determine the sex of the child?’ She spared him a pseudo-intelligent look. ‘I refuse to bear any blame if we produce only girls.’
Alesha glimpsed his faint smile. ‘Why, when their mother is a fine example of what women can achieve?’
‘An attempt to soften me up for the inevitable consummation?’ She was heading down a dangerous path, and she silently damned her runaway tongue.
‘The chemistry we share bothers you?’
Bother was too tame a description!
‘And chemistry is an automatic guarantee for satisfaction between the sheets?’
What is the matter with you? a silent voice screamed inside her head. Are you insane?
‘Did your ex gift you that?’
She silently damned herself for metaphorically opening a vein. ‘You expect me to answer such a question?’
He was silent for several seconds … seconds during which she found it difficult to hold his gaze. ‘You just did.’
It would be so easy to tell him to go to hell, and she almost did. Except sanity ruled her tongue and she maintained a dignified silence. He had depth of character, a silent strength that had been lacking in Seth … although she hadn’t seen it at the time.
Blinded by what she imagined to be love, Alesha decided with cynicism. Seth had played his part well … as she’d soon discovered.
This, her second wedding night, was so vastly different from that of her first wedding when she’d been surrounded by family and friends, and filled with love for her new husband and barely containing a breathless excitement for the night when she and Seth were alone.
A faint bubble of cynical amusement rose in her throat to remain unuttered.
She’d thought being in love resolved everything, except it hadn’t. The magical wedding night she’d imagined didn’t happen due to her new husband imbibing vintage champagne a little too freely. And the sex had been … less than she’d imagined it would be. Afterwards, when she had refused to give in to his demands that they upgrade their home and lifestyle, and allow him an unlimited expense account, the sex had become a punishment she had endeavoured to avoid … to her cost. And she’d walked away, vowing never to be taken in by another man in her lifetime.
Yet here she was, a few hours into a second marriage she didn’t want to the man of her father’s choice. Sharing the same room in separate beds … for how long? One night … two?
After all, in the dark of night, sex was just … sex. No big deal. Right?
So why did she feel like a cat treading hot bricks?
Because instinct warned she was way out of her depth with a man of Loukas’ calibre. There was something about him, an intrinsic, almost raw sexuality that bordered on the primitive.
Intoxicating, brazen, shameless.
A part of her ached for the experience, while sanity cautioned she might not survive with her emotions intact.
It was almost a relief when Eloise entered the dining room to clear the table, and Alesha elected tea in preference to the strong espresso Loukas favoured.
How soon could she conceivably offer an excuse and retire to bed? Another hour or two? Did Loukas have anything planned?
A tiny bubble of laughter rose in her throat. Sure … like they’d settle comfortably in the media room and watch a movie on DVD?
Resorting to cynical humour was a defence mechanism she chose to employ against an increasing onset of nervous tension.
‘I have a few international calls to make.’ Loukas studied her expressive features, and it was almost as if he knew the pattern of her thoughts. ‘Maybe an hour or two ahead of me on the computer as the business day begins in Europe.’
Her relief was palpable, and she only hoped it wasn’t evident. ‘Sure. Go for it.’ She stood and moved away from the table, aware he did the same, and she preceded him from the room, then headed for the upper level.
Tomorrow she’d familiarize herself with the house and its several levels … but for now she ascended the curved staircase and made her way along the gallery to their suite.
Her choices numbered many: a leisurely soak in the spa-bath; slipping into bed with a book—if she could locate one. Sliding between the covers of one of the two beds and attempting to sleep.
As if she’d be able to do that, when every nerve in her body would be alert and tuned into Loukas’ appearance.
Two beds … would he sleep alone, or choose to share her own?
Hell. She didn’t even know which bed was his.
What if she selected the wrong bed and he took it as an invitation to share?
Dammit, since when had she become so ambivalent?
Since her separation and divorce from Seth, she’d regained her independence, healed, and forged a reputation as a confident savvy young businesswoman who’d earned her rightful position as Dimitri Karsouli’s colleague.
Very little,