Greek's Pride: The Stephanos Marriage / A Passionate Surrender / The Greek Bridegroom. HELEN BIANCHIN

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СКАЧАТЬ it until we’re in the car,’ murmured Aleksi as he stood aside for her to precede him from the house, and she turned towards him with the smile still firmly pinned in place.

      ‘Thus preserving the required image, I suppose?’

      His gaze was full of mockery. ‘Of course.’

      Her expression registered an entire gamut of emotions, and she struggled to contain them as she slid into the passenger seat. ‘Oh, go to hell!’

      ‘I would advise putting a curb on your tongue.’ His voice was dangerously soft, and in the dim interior of the car it was impossible to determine his expression. Not that she cared, she assured herself. He could bring down the wrath of a veritable Nemesis on her head, and it wouldn’t matter at all.

      The restaurant Aleksi had chosen was intimate, and offered superb cuisine. As a perfect complement, he ordered a bottle of Cristal, and proposed a solemn toast to their future together.

      It wasn’t something Alyse coveted, and she merely sipped the excellent champagne and forked morsels of food into her mouth with seemingly mechanical regularity.

      Consequently it was a relief when coffee was served, and she breathed a silent sigh as Aleksi summoned the waiter for their bill.

      In the car she sat in silence, grateful that he made no attempt at idle conversation, and the moment they arrived home she moved indoors with indecent haste, paid the babysitter and presented her with a parting gift, forcing a smile as the girl gave her an impulsive hug and bestowed her best wishes on them both.

      ‘I’ll make up your bed,’ Alyse declared minutes after Anna’s departure, ‘then finish packing.’

      ‘If you retrieve the necessary bed-linen, I’m sure I can manage,’ Aleksi drawled, and she retaliated with deliberate sarcasm,

      ‘A domesticated husband—how nice! Can you cook too?’

      ‘Adequately. I also iron.’

      ‘It almost seems too much!’

      ‘Me, or my—abilities?’ Aleksi’s emphasis was deliberate, and she directed him an arctic glare.

      ‘As I haven’t experienced any of your abilities, I’m hardly in a position to comment.’

      ‘Is that an invitation?’

      His sarcasm was the living end. ‘You know damn well it’s not!’ She moved quickly past him into the hallway and flung open the linen closet. ‘You should have stayed at the hotel,’ she declared, and was utterly incensed when she glimpsed his silent humour.

      ‘Alone?’ Aleksi mocked.

      Alyse closed her eyes, then opened them again in a gesture of pure exasperation. ‘Take a clean towel with you if you want to shower. Goodnight,’ she added pointedly. Without a further word she walked towards her bedroom, then went in and closed the door behind her.

      If he dared to follow her, she’d do him a mortal injury, she determined vengefully as she set about filling a suitcase with the remainder of her clothes. When the chore was completed she looked in on Georg, then crept back to her room, undressed, and slipped into bed.

      She was so tired she should have fallen asleep within minutes, except there were fragmented images torturing her subconscious mind, the most vivid of which was the compelling form of Aleksi Stefanos. He appeared as a dark, threatening force: compelling, and infinitely powerful.

      She had married in haste, out of love and loyalty to her sister and baby Georg. Would she repent at leisure, transported several thousand kilometres to the opposite side of the continent, where Aleksi Stefanos was in command?

      Alyse found it impossible not to feel apprehensive as she boarded the large Boeing jet the following morning, and as each aeronautical mile brought them steadily closer to their destination the anxiety intensified.

      A stopover in Melbourne and change in aircraft was instrumental in the final leg of their flight, and Alyse followed Aleksi into the arrival lounge at Coolangatta, aware that Georg, who had travelled surprisingly well, was now wide awake and would soon require the bottle the airline stewardess had kindly heated prior to disembarking.

      Aleksi gave every appearance of being a doting uncle—father, she corrected silently, incredibly aware that he exuded dynamic masculinity attired in dark casual-style trousers, pale shirt and impeccably designed jacket that served to emphasise his breadth of shoulder—and she mentally squared her own, tilting her chin fractionally as he moved forward to lift various items of their luggage from the carousel and load them on to a trolley.

      ‘I arranged to have my car brought to the airport,’ he told her as Georg broke into a fractious wail. ‘Wait here while I collect it from the car park.’

      Alyse nodded in silent acquiescence, her entire attention caught up by the baby in the carrycot, whose tiny legs began to kick in vigorous rejection of what she suspected was a freshly soiled nappy.

      By the time Aleksi returned Georg was crying lustily, and she opted to care for the baby’s needs while Aleksi dealt with the luggage.

      ‘Forceful young fellow,’ Aleksi drawled minutes later as he eased the large BMW away from the terminal.

      ‘Who’s obviously intent on continuing in the same domineering vein as his forefathers,’ Alyse offered sweetly as she gave Georg his bottle.

      ‘Of whom you know very little,’ reproved Aleksi, shooting her a quick mocking glance via the rear-view mirror, and she was quick with a loaded response.

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’m learning more each day.’ She deliberately focused her attention on Georg, pacing the baby’s attempt to drain the contents of his bottle in record speed, then when he had finished she burped him and laid him down in the carrycot, watching anxiously until he lapsed into a fitful doze.

      Alyse pretended an interest in the darkened scenery beyond the windscreen, viewing the clearly lit highway and abundance of neon signs with apparent absorption.

      ‘Is this your first visit to the Gold Coast?’ he asked.

      She turned towards him, glimpsing strength of purpose in features made all the more arresting by reflected headlights in the dim interior of the car.

      ‘My parents brought Antonia and me here for a holiday about ten years ago,’ she revealed.

      The tiny lines fanning out from his eyes became more pronounced and his mouth widened into a slight smile. ‘You’ll notice a lot of changes.’

      ‘For the better, I hope?’

      ‘That would depend on whether you prefer the relaxed, casual holiday atmosphere the locals enjoyed all year round with only the inconvenience of visiting tourists during peak season, or the bustling commercial centre Surfers’ Paradise has now become.’

      ‘I guess one has to admit it’s progress,’ Alyse opined as the luxurious vehicle purred swiftly north along the double-lane highway.

      ‘There’s been a massive injection of Japanese-controlled funds into the area—hotels, resorts, golf courses,’ Aleksi told her. СКАЧАТЬ