Trish Morey - The Ruthless Greek's Virgin Princess

Sienna clearly had more presence of mind than Marietta or maybe it was just that the other woman’s knees were still working, as she rose from her chair to greet Rafe’s lifelong friend, her smile broad and welcoming as he lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.

‘Raphael always insisted he would beat me at everything. At finding the perfect wife, I’m afraid I must concede this contest.’

Sienna laughed a little, her smile widening. ‘Rafe told me you were a charmer. I’m surprised you haven’t found the woman of your dreams by now.’

Marietta stiffened in her chair as she awaited Yannis’s response, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. She’d long ago given up the notion that she was the woman of his dreams. Long ago given up caring who he was with. So she topped up her glass of mineral water, needing the distraction and waving away the waiter who had descended upon her ready to do the task himself.

‘Yannis will never marry now, I am convinced of that,’ Rafe answered for his friend. ‘No woman is good enough for him.’

Especially not Marietta . She hadn’t even been good enough to sleep with.

Beyond her, Sienna shook her head at her husband-to-be and smiled softly. ‘Tell me, Yannis, how is your father now? Rafe said he’s been very ill.’

‘He has been, although he’s thankfully off the critical list. He suffered another stroke a month ago. My mother apologises for not coming to the wedding, but she cannot leave him now.’

‘I’m sorry that they can’t both be here, but it is so good to meet you at last,’ she said. ‘Rafe’s told me so much about you.’

‘None of it good,’ Rafe added, urging them all to sit as waiters appeared from nowhere to bring another meal and fill wine and water glasses. Yannis took his place alongside Sienna, and with a sigh of relief Marietta settled in her brother’s shadow, happy for the barrier of the grateful couple separating her from their new arrival.

‘Although now,’ Rafe continued, ‘I’ll have to take back the bit about not making it to our wedding. You’ve missed the rehearsal, though. What kept you? You were supposed to be here days ago.’

Yannis shrugged and picked up the large wine glass, swirling the contents and lifting it casually to his nose, and Marietta thought he would never answer, until finally he spoke. ‘The US market has been jittery, and with it some of our clients. It seemed unwise to leave too early. As it is, I’ll have to head back straight after the wedding.’

Rafe’s face darkened, his brow creased. ‘You never mentioned jittery clients in your emails.’

‘You’re getting married,’ Yannis countered, ‘there are some things you don’t need to know. Besides, you have enough on your plate sorting out Montvelatte’s finances.’

‘Then why not let Kernahan handle it? After all, you hand-picked the new manager yourself. Why couldn’t you have left it to him?’

The other man’s eyes glowed unnaturally bright as he stared silently out over the crowd, his jawline tight and rigid.

Marietta chose that moment to reach forward for her water, needing to feel something cool in a throat that felt too tight, too dry. In itself it wasn’t a foolhardy action. The mistake she made was in turning her head, only to have her eyes connect once again with the man three seats down, who was staring right at her. Sensation sizzled down her spine as the connection was made—and held.

‘Oh, I had my reasons,’ he muttered, his voice low, his lips tightly drawn, and his eyes still locked on hers so that she was in no doubt that he had waited until the last moment to attend his best friend’s wedding so as to avoid her.

Beside her, Rafe made a move to remonstrate, but his fiancée stopped him with one hand on his wrist. ‘Rafe, Yannis is here now, in plenty of time for the wedding. That’s all that matters.’

And her brother shrugged and let it go, just as Yannis released her eyes so that at last she could drop back in her chair and disappear behind the shield of her brother, her breathing suddenly too shallow and too fast, her pulse racing, as if she’d just run up the Castello’s marble staircase.

This was crazy. She should go—tell them she had a headache. It was almost the truth; her nerves were so strung out that she didn’t know what she felt other than this decade-plus ache in her bones that just felt plain wrong. She’d plead a headache and go to bed early, and then there would only be the wedding tomorrow and the reception, and then she wouldn’t have to see Yannis again. Wouldn’t have to sense his near hatred in every look, in every single word.

She’d almost found the courage to stand, had almost found the words she needed to say, when the music suddenly changed tempo, the orchestra switching to a waltz and an air of hushed expectancy falling over the crowd. Her brother beat her to her feet, took his fiancée’s hand and pressed his lips to the back of it. ‘Come, cara , they await the dance.’

‘But surely that’s after the wedding—at the reception.’

‘Not all of these people—’ he waved his hand around the room ‘—will be able to be here for the reception. Many are villagers who have performed a special task or who will be busy themselves tomorrow, preparing the flowers or working in the kitchens. Tonight is our way of saying a special thank you to them.’

Sienna smiled and nodded. ‘Of course. Then we mustn’t disappoint them.’ She took his hand and stood, and the crowd burst into applause, cheering as Rafe led Sienna to the dance floor and folded his soon-to-be wife— Montvelatte’s soon - to-be Princess —into his arms. She went as if she belonged there, their bodies moving as one to the music, their eyes on each other, their love a palpable thing.

To love someone so much and to have that love returned… how must that feel? Marietta sighed as she watched them effortlessly glide around the dance floor as one. Now, with the eyes of everyone in the room on them, was her chance to escape. She pushed her chair back, reaching for her purse in the same motion.

‘You look different,’ came a deep voice from beside her, the words innocent enough yet the tone accusatory. She looked around, surprised that anyone in the room had eyes for anyone but the couple on the dance floor, but then Yannis didn’t possess eyes so much as pointed barbs that launched out and impaled her, arresting her escape mid-flight. She swallowed, her back straightening, refusing to be cowed even if her ability to stand had once again deserted her.

‘You mean with my clothes on?’

His expression grew darker and harder, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip, wishing she’d managed to form the words in her brain before she’d allowed herself to utter the retort. The look on his face was enough to tell her that the last thing either of them needed was a reminder of that night.

But what did he expect? His attitude had hardly been conciliatory from the moment he’d walked into the room and his gaze had first connected with hers. Why shouldn’t she go on the attack when he obviously needed to realise how ridiculous his petty grudge really was?

‘I meant you looked older,’ he growled once he’d recovered.

Of course that was what he’d meant .

She forced a smile to her lips, but there was no forcing it any further than that. ‘Did you? That sounds so much better, thank you.’

‘You know what I meant,’ he snarled.

‘It has been thirteen years. Is it any surprise I’ve grown up a bit since then?’ Out on the dance floor the Prince and his bride-to-be spun together, two halves of a whole, totally absorbed in each other, totally oblivious to whatever tension existed beyond their world. Marietta watched their effortless glide with an envious eye.

‘Have you?’

She looked back at him, the vision of her brother and his wife making her lose her train of thought. ‘Have I what?’

‘Grown up.’

She dragged in a breath, oxygen destined to fuel the fire already burning inside her. ‘People change with time, Yannis. Maybe you should try it one day.’ There was no point staying any longer. She stood, determined this time to leave. It would be easier this way. She wouldn’t have to plead a headache. Yannis wouldn’t require any explanation at all. He’d just be happy she was gone.

But Yannis was standing, too, and blocking her way. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’

‘I’m leaving.’

‘You can’t leave yet.’

He had to be kidding. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ll do whatever I damn well like. So if you wouldn’t mind getting out of my way?’

‘It’s Rafe and Sienna’s rehearsal dinner.’

Now her breathing was more impatient than ever. ‘Don’t you think I know that? I was here for it, remember? I’m not the one who blew in late.’

A muscle tightened in his jaw. His eyes grew hard and even colder. ‘Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you can avoid your responsibilities now.’ He gestured towards the dance floor. ‘Your brother clearly expects us to join them.’ He extended a reluctant arm to her. ‘Shall we?’

She blinked up at him, her head already moving into a shake. ‘You must be mad.’

And then he nodded in the direction of the dancing couple, and she followed his gaze to where Rafe was spinning his wife-to-be around the dance floor. ‘We are expected to join them.’

A lump lodged in her throat, and she swallowed, trying to shift it. He expected her to dance with him? To be escorted around the dance floor in those arms tonight? No way . It was one thing to be expected to do it at the formal reception, but there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she would do it tonight. She didn’t have the stomach for it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, clutching at her earlier excuse. ‘I’m afraid I have a blinder of a headache. I really have to go.’

One dark eyebrow arched as he frowned, disapproval and something else skating across his eyes. ‘You’re afraid.’

She stiffened at the accusation, resenting the challenge, resenting even more the glimmer of truth his words contained. ‘Afraid you’ll make my headache worse?’ she answered, twisting his words to her own purposes. ‘Oh, I’ll admit there’s every chance of that.’

A muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘I’m sure you can tolerate the inconvenience if I can.’ His words sounded like gravel on gravel, scraping away at the scars left all those years ago until the flesh was raw and tender and she could almost taste the blood seeping fresh from the wound. ‘And don’t think I would ask you if I didn’t have to, but others are waiting for us before they can dance, so tell me, are you coming willingly, or do I have to drag you to the dance floor?’

So he wanted to dance with her as much as she wanted to dance with him. She wanted the time to roll that thought around her mind, to find out why the concept wasn’t as satisfying as it should be. But there was no time because he was right—heads were turned, people were watching them expectantly, waiting for them to join the happy couple. She looked back at him, to the dark-as-night eyes that now held an ‘I told you so’ glimmer of triumph and she didn’t answer, couldn’t bring herself to. Instead she just strode past him, her chin held high, not caring if he chose to follow her or not, half wishing he wouldn’t so that in spite of the audience waiting, she could just keep walking.

He followed her. She didn’t need to turn around to know he was right behind her. She could sense his proximity, feel the heat generated by the man just as surely as she could feel the tide of her sapphire silk gown swirling around her ankles as she strode purposefully towards the dance floor.