Chapter Nine

Demetri lay back in the cast iron tub and stared through the skylight at the patch of gray sky above his head. Last night had been a revelation, one he hadn’t been prepared for. He’d expected the sex to be phenomenal but it had gone beyond physical enjoyment. He and Rania had connected on some other level—a level he hadn’t even known existed. It was as though his soul was now fused with hers, which didn’t bode well for an easy parting.

He forced his mind from thoughts of the future and focused on Rania’s skills in home improvement. The more-than-functional bathroom had been added the week he’d been away. Tacked onto the bedroom, it had not only a very roomy shower but a full bath. Unfortunately, the water was heated by the sun through black coils on the roof. As it was rainy today, the water had been too cold to shower together. So they’d warmed water on the stove until the bath was the perfect temperature. Or it would be perfect if Rania were with him in the tub.

He could hear her in the bedroom, rummaging around for something. “There it is,” she said before appearing a moment later with two brown bottles in her hand. She wore a plain white dress that looked like it had been hastily made out of a bed sheet. Demetri bit back the disappointment that she’d put clothes on. Aside from an apron she’d worn while they made breakfast, the rest of the day had been spent in glorious nakedness. For the first time he appreciated the freedom the nudists who frequented the island experienced, except he wanted no other man to see Rania undressed. That pleasure was reserved for him alone.

Pleasure. That had reached a new definition with Rania as well. Was a year going to be enough?

She poured some of the liquid from the bottle onto a sponge and began to rub his back. He hadn’t been bathed by a woman since he was five years old. An exotic scent filled the air and his skin tingled as every nerve ending stood at attention waiting for the next sensation.

“You haven’t explained to me why our house is pink.” He tried to force his mind off Rania’s hands as they lathered him. She moved to the end of the bath, leaned over, and put his ankle on her shoulder. The water from his foot dripped onto her; a ribbon of water snaked down to her breast, soaking the material. The white dress became translucent, revealing tantalizing glimpses of her nipple. His mouth went dry.

“We plastered the outside of the house and most of the inside, but then ran out of material before we finished the bedroom. I worried that moisture would seep through and make the room feel damp. So the plasterer suggested painting the outside to stop any water getting through. The only color in enough quantity to do the job was pink. Someone ordered it by mistake, getting freesia and fuchsia confused. I did ask if you had any objections.”

When she’d texted him asking if he minded the color fuchsia, he’d assumed she was referring to decorations for the wedding, not the outside color of his house. However, when she swept the sponge up his inner thigh, his mind went blank. “No, no objections.”

As she placed his leg back in the water and reached for the other one, her breasts grazed the water. The whole top of her dress now clung to her. It was the most seductive thing he’d ever seen. A private wet-shirt contest. His body went hard. While she washed his leg, he lifted the other from the water and circled her nipples with his big toe. It was her turn to suck in a breath.

“You’re not going to get washed doing that.”

“I want to be dirty.”

“I’m not putting my mouth on you unless you’re clean.”

He rose from the bath with such speed that half the water splashed out and Rania was soaked to her waist. As she lathered him, replacing the sponge with her hands, he stood stoically under her ministrations. Rania ripped him inside out with just a touch, reduced his control to ashes, and destroyed his will to do anything except make love to her. He was a captive, and it didn’t sit well with him. But he’d promised himself twenty-four hours. After that it was back to business. Until then…

“Rania,” he gasped out as she took him in her mouth. “No more games. We do this together this time. Take off your dress.”

She released him and stood. With him still standing in the bath, she appeared tiny before him. “Rip it from me.” What did they say about dynamite and small packages?

He paused. He’d never ripped a woman’s clothes off before. It smacked of barbarianism and a lack of civility. Then again, he’d never been so tempted before.

Rania ran her hands up his body, pulled his head down, and kissed him. The need to have her naked against him was overwhelming, and he grabbed the neckline of her dress and ripped it clear to the hem. He could feel her smile against his lips.

“You enjoy it when I lose control, don’t you?”

She shrugged off the shoulders of the ruined dress, letting it drop into the puddle of water on the pebble tiled floor. “You’re not losing control. You’re being real. Dropping all the pretenses and bullshit you put up between yourself and those around you. When we make love, you hold nothing back. That’s the man I want standing beside me, the one not ashamed of who he is, pretending to be someone else.”

She’d seen through his façade, seen through the controlled persona he used to hide his insecurities. She’d not seen the wealthy businessman who’d built a successful empire. She’d seen him. And, it appeared, liked that man better than the one he pretended to be so others didn’t figure out who he really was.

After all he’d accomplished, it shouldn’t matter that he was a bastard, considered inferior by his grandfather. But to him it still did. The truth of her words stung. “I’m not ashamed.” He dropped his hands from her and stepped out of the bath. She was tiny. In her bare feet her head barely reached his shoulder.

“Good. Then you can stop trying to prove you’re worthy of being a Christodoulou to your grandfather and get on with living your own life.”

Another direct hit. “I’m not discussing this with you. You’ve known him for one week and you have the nerve to lecture me on my relationship with my pappous?”

“Sometimes it takes an outsider to see how things really are.”

“Things are fine the way they are.” He crossed his arms and dared her to challenge him again.

Rania put a hand on his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb. “You forget, Demetri, I’m a Christodoulou now, too. Your family is my family. Your problems my problems. We’re in this together.”

“For one year only, or less if we both get what we want before then.”

She dropped her hand and leaped back as though he’d struck her physically. “How stupid of me to forget. I’d better get on with my wifely duties while there’s still time. I’ll start dinner.” Spinning on her heel, she left the bathroom, her head high, her gorgeous ass swaying beneath her wealth of hair. Even angry he was turned on. Damn the woman, but she got under his skin. Tomorrow he’d start negotiations to buy the land, then they’d leave Gavdos. Away from his family, she wouldn’t be able to interfere, and he’d be able to prove to her exactly what type of man he was—wealthy and in control.

…

Rania stirred the couscous in the pot before removing it from the heat. With only one burner and a fridge the size of a small cooler, cooking was more innovation than creation. But she didn’t figure they’d be staying long on the island. She’d just overheard Demetri on the phone saying he wanted to meet with someone before they left tomorrow afternoon. At least she assumed she was going with him this time. If he left her alone again…well, she wouldn’t be here when he returned.

“Need a hand?”

She jumped at his deep voice right behind her.

“No, I’ve got it. There’s no room in here for both of us anyway.” And with his hot body pressed against hers it was hard not to forget the food and do him on the kitchen table. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become his love slave doing anything, becoming anything, just for a caress and a kiss.

“Are you sure?”

I’m not sure about anything anymore.

“Yes. Five minutes then it will be ready. I think there’s a bottle of wine in one of the bags by the front window. Why don’t you open it while I plate up?”

She heard him rummage through a couple of gift bags. “What is all this stuff?”

“Wedding presents. I told everyone we didn’t need anything. A few insisted on giving us something. I thought maybe we could store them in your house in Crete and then when we split up, we can return the gifts. I’m sure they won’t miss a bottle of wine, though, or we can replace it with one from your cellar.” She was babbling now, but it was better than the chilled silence of the previous half hour.

Before she could even turn over the lamb kebobs, Demetri was standing next to her again. He handed her a glass of wine and then he swirled the dark red liquid in his glass. “Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce these days. I’m sure those people don’t give back their wedding presents.”

“And I’m sure those people didn’t go into their marriage knowing it wasn’t going to last. What we’ve done is wrong on so many levels. It’s going to devastate your mother when we split.”

He shrugged and continued to stare at his wine. “She’ll get over it.”

“Like she got over your father?”

He looked at her then, his eyes hard, his lips tight. “Rania.”

“All right. I’ll stay out of it.” Kind of, sort of. Well, I’ll try.

“Dinner smells amazing.” Change of subject. “I’m going to put on ten kilos being married to you.”

“Don’t worry, azizy. I’ll make sure you work off the calories.”

Finally a smile. He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He’d hold her to a promise of sex. The vow she’d made to love and care for him was dispensable. No point worrying about the end already; there was still plenty of time to enjoy. She put her wine glass down and quickly plated the food. They ate at the table, all proper like. Brunch had been eaten on the cushions on the floor, Bedouin style. They’d fed each other until other hungers had taken over and they’d made love.

“So, what’s the plan for the rest of the week, month, year?” She forced her mind to think practical, not sensual.

“Tomorrow morning I’m meeting with Christina’s uncle who owns the land I want to buy. He was at the wedding so there should be no objections to my purchase. Then we leave for Crete. I have a few meetings next week on the island. And I also need to visit the resort where the murder happened, make sure it’s ready to reopen and the staff have coped with the trauma.”

“And me?”

“You’ll come with me, of course.”

She tilted her head and stared at him. Did he think she was some sort of dog to follow her master around?

“What if I choose to stay here?”

Demetri put down his fork and knife. “You’re my wife. You belong at my side.”

“I belong trying to get my uncle out of prison.”

“I told you I had that in hand. You said you’d trust me.” He folded his arms across his chest, abandoning his meal.

“Demetri, do you know how many people have told me the same thing? I waited three months while a man I was dating ‘handled it.’ All he did was write to his local Member of Parliament and send an email to the Egyptian President’s office.”

“I am not some man you’re dating. I’ve already discovered what prison your uncle is in and we’re making discreet inquiries as to the best way to free him. If you go barreling in with one of your half-thought-out plans, you’ll jeopardize everything I’ve done.”

“So I just have to trust you?”

“Yes.”

“I—”

“Rania, I may not love you, but in everything else I intend to live up to my role as your husband. I will protect you, care for you, and see that your needs are met. That includes rescuing your uncle. When we get to Crete, I’ll introduce you to my lawyer who is handling the negotiations. You can pester him for constant updates if you like.”

“All right. Tell me about this land you’re so desperate for you would marry a woman you don’t love.”

“I’m getting more from this marriage than the property.” His hot gaze roved over her, setting off sparks of awareness across her skin. If tonight was anything like last night, she’d better eat up. She’d need the stamina.

Rania resumed eating. “So, the land you want is on Gavdos?”

“Yes, directly below my grandparents’ house. The crescent bay.”

“It’s beautiful. It’ll make a stunning location for a house, although the cost of building will be astronomical. Why bother when you don’t plan to stay long on the island? Is it for your mother? Because I asked if she wanted to live in this place while we’re away, and she said she doesn’t want to be alone. Of course, if she gets together with your father, or some other man, then she’ll need her own house.”

Rania glanced up in time to see Demetri’s jaw clench when she mentioned his mother’s future. He was worse than an over-protective parent. If they ever had children, especially girls, he’d probably make them wear some kind of chastity belt. She quickly shut down the thought of bearing his children. Looked as if motherhood was also off her agenda, at least until she was over Demetri, by which time her eggs would probably have withered into nothing.

“I plan to build a resort there. So every time my grandfather sits on his porch my success will stare him in the face.”

“A resort on Gavdos? Have you run a cost analysis? The return on investment is going to be abysmal, if it ever gets out of the red.”

“How do you know?”

“I have a degree in environmental engineering and my uncle owns a construction business; I know the work involved. I’ve also been on the property. The slope is unstable, the gradient steep, access to fresh water limited. Putting a septic system with enough capacity to handle a small resort is going to cost a fortune. That plus the lack of basic infrastructure on the island with few historical sites or other lures to draw visitors means it’s going to have to be spectacular to get even a consideration on the tourist sites. And how are you going to get clients here? In the week I’ve lived on the island the ferry has canceled twice. The people who are willing to pay what you’re going to have to charge to just break even don’t want any uncertainty about when they can come and go. You’ll never get an investor to put their money in, given those factors.”

“I don’t plan on getting any outside investments. I’m going to fund it myself.” Demetri resumed eating but didn’t meet her gaze.

“You’re going to risk your fortune to spit in your grandfather’s face?”

“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”

“No, I don’t understand. Rather than try to find some common ground with your grandfather—or heaven forbid, actually discuss the way you feel—you’re more invested in proving him wrong, making the breach between you permanent.”

“There’s no relationship to fix, Rania. He hated me before I was born. Anything I do or don’t do isn’t going to change that. Pappous sent me away when I was twelve, hoping I’d never come back. Well, I am back, and I intend to leave a permanent reminder that he has a grandson, no matter how ashamed he is of me.”

Demetri picked up his plate and put it in the kitchen sink. He stared out the back window into the pitch-black night. From his reflection in the glass, she could see his jaw clench and unclench.

His wounds were so deep that one week and a night of loving weren’t going to heal them. Rania moved to stand behind her husband. She placed a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades. He tensed for a second then relaxed as she ran her hand over him. After massaging his shoulders for a couple of minutes, he turned and put her arms around his neck. His hands on her waist drew her against him.

“I don’t believe your grandfather is ashamed of you. I think he’s ashamed of himself. Your success highlights his failures. Yiayia told me he tried to start a business and lost everything. Please, Demetri. Please, give it a few months before you make any definite plans for the land.” She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him tenderly.

“I make no promises, but I’ll think about what you said.”

“Good. In the meantime, if you do the dishes, I’ll give you an all-over body massage with some special lotion.”

“You’re on.”

…

Rania flicked a section of her long hair back over her shoulder. The chestnut waves beckoned his hands as always, luring him to bury his face in their softness, let the strands slip through his fingers as he ravished her mouth. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted so he allowed himself only to lean closer and inhale deeply of her scent. Later, when this day was over and they retired to their private villa…

They were at his resort on Naxos where the murder had occurred two weeks ago. Today the first load of new visitors would arrive since the tragedy, and he wanted to be on hand to ease any tension on the part of the staff or guests. At least he had Rania here with him this time. Her warmth and compassion had already won over all of his staff. She’d hugged and spoken individually to each employee last night at the get together he’d arranged to make sure everyone was coping and ready to reopen.

The shuttle van from the airport drew up outside the reception area and Rania’s hand around his waist squeezed him lightly. The smile she flashed him as he gazed down shot warmth all the way to his toes. When he’d been here right after the tragedy, he couldn’t comprehend how a man could kill his wife rather than let her leave him. It was still incomprehensible to Demetri, but he could at least understand a little of the desperation the murderer must have felt.

Even though they’d gone into their marriage knowing it had a time limit, Demetri wasn’t quite sure how he was going to let Rania go when they both had what they wanted. She’d brought even more to the marriage than sex and laughter. She supported and encouraged him as passionately as she made love, and she challenged him to see beyond the obvious and give others the benefit of the doubt. Rania made him a better man.

The first clients stepped through the sliding glass doors and into the reception. Rania approached and warmly greeted each one as they entered, as though welcoming invited guests into her home. If he’d just come off a charter flight and then endured a bumpy, hour-long transfer, a beautiful woman welcoming him personally was exactly what he’d want. If he were a tourist, he’d never want to leave. Or he’d return again and again. Rania was pure marketing genius.

A little girl, about three years old, cried loudly as her father set her on the floor while he searched for the family’s passports. Rania grabbed something from behind the reception desk and hurried over to the child. She knelt next to the girl and presented her with a shiny plastic tiara. The toddler’s tears turned into smiles, earning Rania effusive thanks from the exhausted parents. For a second, Demetri’s mind flashed to an image of Rania consoling their child and his chest tightened. Babies were not part of the original deal.

The door swooshed open again and he forced his eyes from his wife to the newly arrived guest. What the hell is she doing here? He hurried over.

“Athena, welcome.” He forced a smile on his face. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?” Pompous ass was back again, as Rania would say. Hearing his wife’s voice in his head brought a genuine smile to his lips.

“I thought I’d show my support, after, well, you know…” The socialite’s eyes scanned the reception area dismissively before settling warmly on him. A month ago he’d have considered the invitation in her eyes; now it made his skin crawl.

“Are we expecting you? I didn’t see your name on the registered guest list.” A uniformed chauffeur was piling bags in the corner, six at the last count.

“I didn’t think you’d be too busy. Surely the Alexander suite is available.” That she knew the name of his most expensive accommodation was a slight surprise. Her father owned a rival resort business in Greece. Although rather than aim at the family-friendly market where Demetri was carving out a niche, Athena’s father’s resorts were aimed at the twenty-somethings wanting to party. Hedonism was the theme of their resorts. Demetri had considered an alliance with them, and he’d even dated Athena a few times, but he’d found her acidic personality difficult to stomach. She found fault with everything and everyone.

“I’m afraid my wife and I are staying in the Alexander suite. I’ll check to see what else we have available that would suit you.”

He strode over to the reception desk and snagged a spare computer. They’d offered a substantial discount on their regular rates to valued customers to get the resort full this late in the season. The only suite they had left was where the murder occurred. It had been completely cleaned and Athena probably wouldn’t object. In fact, from what he knew of her, she’d probably enjoy sleeping where some other poor woman lost her life in a crime of passion. But could he ask his staff to service the room daily so soon?

Glancing up from the screen, he saw Rania approach Athena. The two women stood next to each other and Demetri couldn’t help running a comparison analysis. Both were beautiful, in different ways. Athena was tall and willowy with wealth dripping from every pore. Her clothes, jewelry, and attitude all screamed money. Athena’s luggage alone was worth more than a month in the Alexander suite.

Rania was shorter, curvier, and had on a simple cotton sundress and wore only the rings he’d given her. But the difference in their two personalities was like comparing a bottle of vinegar to a rich, full-bodied red wine. His wife intoxicated him with just a look.

He strode over to the women. “I’m sorry, Athena. We’re booked full,” he said.

“Surely you can find something for a friend, Demi.” She pouted, obviously unused to being denied. “The Alexander suite has two rooms. Maybe I can share with you?”

Rania’s gaze shot to his, a flash of jealousy in their almond-colored depths. That she felt possessive pleased him. He put his arm around her shoulder, dropping a quick kiss on her temple.

“No, Athena,” he said. “We’re newly married and need our privacy. I’m sure you understand. Is there no room at your father’s resort?”

“There’s always room for me there. I was trying to support you in your time of need. Are you sure I can’t join your party? I’ve always thought three was rather fun.”

“There are some things I don’t share. My husband is one of them.” Rania shot a death glare at Athena.

“Too bad. Call me when you get bored, Demi.” With a dismissive toss of her bleached-blond hair, Athena strode from the hotel, her driver scurrying to repack all her luggage.

“Another ex?” Rania asked as Athena slammed the car door loud enough to rattle the glass wall in the lobby.

He didn’t repress the shudder that swept through him. “A mistake.”

Her eyes searched his for a moment. “I wonder how you’ll classify me when we’re through.”

Before he could answer she pulled out of his arms and escorted the now registered family with the little girl to their suite.

How indeed to classify Rania? He was beginning to think that the mistake would be in letting her go.