Wedding Night Reunion in Greece Read online

  She’s his runaway bride...

  He’s come to claim his wedding night!

  Emma Piper’s just promised to love, honor and cherish Greek tycoon Christo Karides...but then she overhears him admitting he married her purely for convenience. Bolting to her family’s beautiful Corfu villa, Emma doesn’t expect Christo to follow—especially with seduction in mind! Their intense attraction promises an explosive reunion. Will a night in her husband’s bed show Emma there’s more to their marriage than just convenience...?

  Escape to the Greek islands with this reunion romance!

  “I would never marry a man just to get his money.”

  “So, if you didn’t marry me for my money—” Christo’s words were slow and warm, like sun-drenched honey dropping onto her skin “—why did you marry me, Emma?”

  It was only as the darkness pulsed between them and the silence grew heavy with waiting that Emma recognized his trap. To tell the truth meant admitting that she’d fallen in love with him. Or at least fallen for the mirage of love.

  “This conversation’s getting us nowhere. That’s in the past and—”

  “On the contrary, this conversation is just getting interesting.” He lowered his head as if trying to read her face in the darkness. “Tell me why you married me, Emma.”

  Suddenly she realized the danger of being this close to him. “I want to go inside.”

  “Could it be,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken, “because of this?”

  He raised her hand to his face and pressed his lips to her palm. Instantly, sensation juddered through her.

  Desire.

  Delight.

  Weakness.

  Passion in Paradise

  Exotic escapes...and red-hot romances!

  Step into a jet-set world where first-class is the only way to travel. From Madrid to Venice, you’ll find a billionaire at every turn! But no billionaire is complete without the perfect romance. Especially when that passion is found in the most incredible destinations...

  Find out what happens in:

  Wedding Night Reunion in Greece by Annie West

  And look out for more stories coming soon!

  A Scandalous Midnight in Madrid by Susan Stephens

  His Shock Marriage in Greece by Jane Porter

  Prince’s Virgin in Venice by Trish Morey

  Annie West

  Wedding Night Reunion in Greece

  Growing up near the beach, Annie West spent lots of time observing tall, burnished lifeguards—early research! Now she spends her days fantasizing about gorgeous men and their love lives. Annie has been a reader all her life. She also loves travel, long walks, good company and great food. You can contact her at [email protected] or via PO Box 1041, Warners Bay, NSW 2282, Australia.

  Books by Annie West

  Harlequin Presents

  Seducing His Enemy’s Daughter

  Inherited for the Royal Bed

  Her Forgotten Lover’s Heir

  The Greek’s Forbidden Innocent

  One Night With Consequences

  Contracted for the Petrakis Heir

  A Vow to Secure His Legacy

  Secret Heirs of Billionaires

  The Desert King’s Secret Heir

  The Princess Seductions

  His Majesty’s Temporary Bride

  The Greek’s Forbidden Princess

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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  Dedicated with thanks and affection to the people of Corfu, whose warmth made my first visit to that beautiful island so memorable.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM MARRIAGE BARGAIN WITH HIS INNOCENT BY CATHY WILLIAMS

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘CONGRATULATIONS, CHRISTO.’ DAMEN grinned and gripped his friend’s arm in a hard clasp. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.’

  ‘You didn’t think I’d invite you to my wedding?’ Christo smiled. Who else would he ask to stand up as his best man but Damen, his friend since childhood?

  ‘You know what I mean. I never expected to see you married till you’d played the field for another decade and decided it was time to breed some heirs.’

  The look that passed between them revealed their shared understanding of what it meant to be the sole male heir to a family dynasty—Damen’s in shipping and Christo’s in property. There were expectations and responsibilities, always, even if they came with the cushion of wealth and privilege.

  At the thought of his newest responsibility, Christo rolled his shoulders. The stiffness pinching the back of his neck was familiar. But now he could relax. With the wedding over, his plans fell into place. He’d had a problem and he’d fixed it, simple as that. Life could resume its even course. The glow of satisfaction he’d felt as he’d slid the ring onto Emma’s small hand burned brighter.

  Everything had worked out perfectly.

  ‘I’m glad you could get here at short notice.’ Despite Christo’s lack of sentimentality, it felt good to have his old friend with him.

  Besides, it would have looked strange if there’d been no one from the groom’s side, even at such a small wedding. Damen had arrived in Melbourne just in time for the private ceremony. Now, in the gardens of the bride’s home, this was their first opportunity to talk.

  ‘She’s not what I expected, your little bride.’

  Christo raised an enquiring eyebrow.

  ‘She’s besotted with you for a start. What she sees in you...’ Damen shook his head in mock puzzlement, as if women didn’t swarm around Christo like bees around blossom. It was another thing they had in common.

  ‘Of course Emma’s besotted. She’s marrying me.’

  Christo had no false modesty about his appeal to the opposite sex. Besides, he’d wooed old Katsoyiannis’s granddaughter carefully, taking his time in a way that wasn’t usually necessary to win a woman. Having his proposal rejected hadn’t figured in Christo’s plans.

  He’d done an excellent job. A spark of heat ignited at the memory of Emma’s wide-eyed gaze and the eager way she’d returned his perfunctory end-of-ceremony kiss, tempting him to prolong it into something more passionate. Christo’s hands had tightened on her slender waist and he’d found himself looking forward to tonight when he’d take her to his bed for the first time.

  Damen huffed out a laugh. ‘There speaks the mighty Christo Karides, ego as big as the Mediterranean.’ He frowned and glanced back at the house, as if confirming they were alone. Everyone was at the wedding breakfast on the far side of the building. ‘But, seriously, I was surprised. Emma’s lovely. Very sweet.’ Another pause. ‘But not your usual type.’ His look turned piercing. ‘I’d have thought her cousin more your speed. The vivacious redhead.’

  Christo nodded, picturing Maia’s pin-up-perfect curves in the tight clothes she favoured. Her confidence, her sexy banter as she’ d tried to hook his attention. She would have succeeded, too, if things had been different.

  A twinge of pain seared from Christo’s skull to his shoulders and he rubbed a hand around his neck.

  ‘You’re right, she’s gorgeous. In other circumstances we’d have had fun together.’ He shook his head. His situation was immutable. Regrets were useless. ‘But this is marriage we’re talking about, not pleasure.’

  A muffled sound made Christo turn to scrutinise the back of the large house. But there was no movement at the windows, no one on the flagstone patio or sweeping lawn. No sound except the distant strains of music.

  He’d have to return to the celebration soon before his bride wondered what was taking him so long.

  A beat of satisfaction quickened Christo’s pulse. ‘Emma’s not sexy and sophisticated like her cousin, or as beautiful, but her grandfather left her the Athens property I came to buy. Marriage was the price of acquiring it.’

  Damen’s smile faded. ‘You married for that? I knew the deal was important but surely you didn’t need to—?’

  ‘You’re right. Normally I wouldn’t consider it, but circumstances changed.’ Christo shrugged and adopted a nonchalant expression to camouflage the tension he still felt at the profound changes in his life. ‘I find myself in the bizarre situation of inheriting responsibility for a child.’ Saying it aloud didn’t make it sound any more palatable, or lessen his lingering shock. ‘Can you imagine me as a father?’

  He nodded as his friend’s eyes bulged. ‘You see why marriage suddenly became necessary, if not appealing. It isn’t a sexy siren I need. Instead I’ve acquired a gentle, sensible homebody who wants only to please me. She’ll make the perfect caring mother.’

  * * *

  Emma’s hands gripped the edge of the basin so tight, she couldn’t feel her fingers. That was one small mercy because the rest of her felt like one huge, raw wound throbbing in acute agony.

  She blinked and stared at the mirror in the downstairs rear bathroom. The one to which she and her bridesmaid had retired for a quick make-up fix as the bathroom at the front of the house was engaged. The one with an open window, obscured by ivy, that gave onto the sprawling back garden.

  In the mirror, dazed hazel eyes stared back at her. Her mouth in that new lipstick she’d thought so sophisticated was a crumpled line of colour too bright for parchment-pale cheeks.

  Around her white face she still wore the antique lace of her grandmother’s veil.

  Emma shuddered and shut her eyes, suddenly hating the weight of the lace against her cheeks and the long wedding dress around her shaky legs. The fitted gown, so perfect before, now clasped her too tightly, making her skin clammy, nipping at her waist and breasts and squeezing her lungs till she thought they might burst.

  ‘Did you know?’

  Emma’s eyes popped open to meet Steph’s in the mirror. Instead of turning into a wax doll like Emma, shock made Steph look vibrant. Her eyes sparked and a flush climbed her cheeks.

  ‘Stupid question. Of course you didn’t know.’ Her friend’s generous mouth twisted into a snarl. ‘I’ll kill him with my bare hands. No, killing’s too good. Slow torture. That’s what he deserves.’ She scowled ferociously. ‘How could he treat you that way? He must know how you feel about him.’

  The pain in Emma’s chest intensified from terrible to excruciating. It felt as though she was being torn apart. Which made sense, as she’d been foolish enough to hand her heart to Christo Karides and he’d just ripped it out.

  Without warning.

  Without anaesthetic.

  Without apology.

  ‘Because he doesn’t care.’ The words slipped through numb lips. ‘He never really cared about me.’

  As soon as she said the words aloud Emma felt their truth, despite the romantic spell Christo had woven around her. He’d been kind and understanding, tender and supportive, as she’d grappled with her grandfather’s death. She’d taken his old-fashioned courtesy as proof of his respect for her, his willingness to wait. Now she realised his patience and restraint had been because he didn’t fancy her at all.

  Nausea surged as the blindfold ripped from her eyes.

  Why hadn’t she seen it before? Why hadn’t she listened to Steph when she’d spoken of taking things slowly? Of not making important decisions while she was emotionally vulnerable?

  Emma had been lost in a fairy tale this last month, a fairy tale where, as grief struck yet again, her Prince Charming was with her, not to rescue her but to be there for her, making her feel she wasn’t alone.

  Everyone she’d loved in this life had died. Her parents when she was eleven, abruptly wiped out of her life when the small plane they’d been in went down in a storm. Then her grandmother four years ago when Emma was eighteen. And now her opinionated, hopelessly old-fashioned yet wonderful Papou. The sense of loss had been unbearable, except when Christo had been beside her.

  She drew a sharp breath that lanced tight lungs, then let it out on a bitter laugh. ‘He doesn’t even know who I am. He has no idea.’

  Wants only to please him, indeed!

  A homebody!

  Obviously Christo had believed Papou, who’d insisted on thinking she studied to fill in time before she found the right man to marry!

  Maybe Christo thought she lived in her grandparents’ house because she was meek and obedient. The truth was that, despite his bluster, Papou had been lost when her grandmother had died and Emma had decided to stay till he recovered. But then his health had failed and there’d been no good time to leave.

  The tragedy of it was that Emma had thought Christo truly understood her. She’d believed he spent time with her because he found her interesting and attractive.

  But not as attractive as her vivacious, gorgeous cousin Maia.

  Pain cramped Emma’s belly and her breath sawed from constricted lungs.

  Bad enough that Christo viewed her as a plain Jane compared with her sexy siren cousin. But the fact he hadn’t noticed that Maia was warm-hearted, intelligent and funny, as well as sexy, somehow made it worse.

  Christo was a clever man. According to Papou, his insightfulness had made him phenomenally successful, transforming the family business he’d inherited. Clearly Christo didn’t waste time applying that insight to the women he met.

  Because we’re not important enough?

  Because he thinks we’re simply available for him to use as he sees fit?

  What that said about his attitude to women made Emma’s skin shrink against her bones.

  He had a reputation as a playboy in Europe, always dating impossibly glamorous, gorgeous women. But in her naivety Emma had dismissed the media gossip. She’d believed him when he’d assured her his reputation was exaggerated. Then he’d stroked her cheek, his hand dropping to her collarbone, tracing the decorous neckline of her dress, and Emma had forgotten her doubts and her train of thought.

  She’d been so easy to manipulate! Ready to fall for his practised charm. For his attentiveness.

  Because he was the first man who’d really noticed her.

  Was she really so easily conned?

  Emma lurched forward over the basin as nausea rocketed up from her stomach. Bile burnt the back of her throat and she retched again and again.

  When it was over, and she’d rinsed her mouth and face, she looked up at her friend. ‘I believed in him, Steph. I actually thought the fact he didn’t respond to Maia was proof he was genuinely attracted to me.’ Her voice rose to something like a wail and Emma bit her lip.

  She’d been gullible. She’d brushed aside her friend’s tentative questions about the speed of Christo’s courtship. At the time it had made sense to marry quickly so her Papou could be with them. And when he’d died, well, the last thing he’d said to her was how happy he was knowing she had Christo and that he didn’t want her to delay the wedding.

  She should have waited.

  She should have known romantic fantasies were too good to be true.

  ‘I’ve been a complete idiot, haven’t I?’ She’d always been careful—cautious rather than adventurous, sensible rather than impulsive—yet she’d let a handsome face and a lying, cheating, silver tongue distract her from her career plans and her innate caution.

  ‘Of course not, sweetie.’ Steph put her arm around her shoulders, squeezing tight. ‘You’re warm and generous and honest and you always look for the good in people.’

  Emma shook her head, dredging up a tight smile at her friend’s loyalty. ‘You mean I usually have my head in the sand.’ Or in books. Papou had regularly complained that she spent too much time with her nose in a book. ‘Well, not any more.’ She shuddered as ice frosted her spine. ‘Imagine if we hadn’t heard...’

  ‘But we did.’ Steph squeezed her shoulder again. ‘The question is, what are you going to do about it?’

  The question jolted her out of self-pity.

  Emma looked in the mirror, taking in the ashen-faced waif dressed in wedding lace. Suddenly, in a burst of glorious heat, anger swamped her. Scorching, fiery anger that ran along her veins, licking warmth back into her cold flesh and burning away the vulnerability she’d felt at Christo’s casual contempt. The flush of it rose from her belly to her breasts and up to her cheeks as she swung round to face her friend.

  ‘Walk away, of course. Christo can find another sensible woman to care for his child and please him.’

  Silly that, of all the assumptions he’d made about her and the games he’d played, what rankled most was that he’d recognised her longing for physical pleasure. For him.

  A shudder ran through her at the thought of how she’d looked forward to pleasing him and having him reciprocate with those big, supple hands and that hard, masculine body.

  Now the idea of him touching her made her feel sick.

  Especially as the reason he’d abstained from sex clearly hadn’t been out of respect for her and for her dying grandfather. It had been because sex with the dowdy mouse of the family hadn’t appealed to him. If Christo had been engaged to the beautiful Maia, there’d have been no holding back. They’d have been scorching the sheets well before the wedding.