Her Greek Groom: The Tycoon's Mistress / Smokescreen Marriage / His Forbidden Bride. Sara Craven
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СКАЧАТЬ she say—what reassurance could she possibly give? Especially when she herself felt as if she was operating in some kind of vacuum.

      There was a strange car, large, powerful and glossy, parked in front of the house, and Berry was waiting to open the door for her.

      ‘You’ve a visitor, Miss Cressy. I’ve shown him into the drawing room.’

      Cressy’s heart thudded, and her throat tightened painfully as she walked towards the drawing room. Ever since her last encounter with Draco she hadn’t been inside the room, unsure if she could handle the memories it would evoke. In fact, she’d made a point of using her father’s study instead.

      Now she had to face him there. Brave whatever he had to tell her.

      Swallowing, she twisted the handle and went in.

      The anticlimax when she found herself confronted by a stranger was almost ludicrous.

      Except that she did know him, she realised after a stunned moment. It was Paul Nixon, who worked as Draco’s PA. She’d seen him briefly in London.

      She felt sick. Draco wasn’t even going to break their agreement in person.

      ‘Miss Fielding. I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment, but Mr Viannis called from New York last night to say he’ll be returning to Myros next week and wishes you to meet him there. And that doesn’t leave much time.’

      She felt as if she’d been reprieved from a death sentence, and was ashamed of the relief and joy that flooded through her.

      She said quietly, ‘I understand. Won’t you sit down? Can I offer you some tea or coffee?’

      ‘Your housekeeper already did that, ma’am.’ He delved into a briefcase. ‘I have a file here, with your itinerary. You’ll fly first class to Athens, and transfer to Myros by helicopter. Also details of the personal allowance that you’ll receive while you remain Mr Viannis’s—companion, and the final settlement he is prepared to make.’

      Caught on the raw, Cressy took the folder he handed her.

      ‘What a lot of paperwork,’ she said coolly, hiding her hurt. ‘All to get a man into bed with a woman.’

      Paul Nixon’s solemn face reddened uncomfortably and he gave Cressy an austere look. ‘The details of Mr Viannis’s private life are no business of mine, Miss Fielding. I’m just here to do a job.’

      ‘You do it well,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.’

      He looked more po-faced than ever. ‘You’ll also be requested to sign a contract of confidentiality,’ he went on. ‘Guaranteeing that no details of your time with Mr Viannis will ever be made public.’

      ‘In case I write a kiss-and-tell story for the tabloids?’ Cressy asked with disbelief. ‘My God, I’m the last person in the world who’d want to go public.’

      ‘I’m sure that’s how you feel now, ma’am. But things can change, and Mr Viannis would not wish any future marriage he might contract to be compromised by unwelcome revelations.’

      She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, but she recovered and managed a taut smile. ‘In other words, hell hath no fury, Mr Nixon. Tell your boss I’ll sign his guarantee.’

      She took the pen he handed her, and wrote her name where indicated.

      Then she showed him to the door, wished him a pleasant drive back to London, and returned to the drawing room.

      The folder was lying on the coffee table. The next three months of her life all spelled out for her in clauses, sub-clauses and settlements.

      She picked it up, weighed it speculatively for a moment, then, with a small choking cry, threw it across the room as hard as she could. It hit the wall and fell, disgorging its contents on to the carpet.

      And then she burst into tears.

      Cressy finished rubbing sun screen on to her legs, and put the cap back on the bottle.

      It would be tempting, she thought with detachment, to allow Draco to arrive and find her burned to a crisp, and consequently unavailable, but she could not risk the damage to her skin.

      The sky above Myros was cloudlessly blue, the sun relentlessly hot, and the swimming pool beside her deliciously cool. If only she could relax and enjoy it…

      But that was impossible.

      She found herself stealing another glance at her watch, and swore under her breath. He would be here only too soon. She didn’t have to mark the passage of every minute until then.

      She’d arrived the previous day, leaving rain and a chill, unseasonal breeze in England.

      Her father, immersed in the letters he was writing to various companies offering his services as a consultant, had wished her an almost casual goodbye.

      At one time she would have been wounded by his self-absorption. Now she had her own immediate problems to deal with.

      The resident nurse, a Miss Clayton, was a kind, sensible woman, and Cressy had liked her at once. But it was clear she had a struggle on her hands to induce James Fielding to rest.

      ‘It’s not just a question of medication,’ she’d told Cressy as they shook hands. ‘He needs to relax more.’

      Don’t we all? thought Cressy, with irony, reaching for the iced lemonade on the table beside her. She might be in the equivalent of Eden, but she was like a cat on hot bricks just the same.

      However disapproving Mr Nixon might be, there had been nothing wrong with his travel arrangements. It had been VIP treatment all the way.

      The villa was just as beautiful as she’d imagined, with large airy rooms and exquisitely tiled floors, and a magical view of the sea from every window. And although it was luxurious, it wasn’t stridently so. The furniture tended to be on the heavy, old-fashioned side, suggesting it had been passed down over several generations, and Cressy found it charming.

      And the service was faultless, she thought. Courteous and unobtrusive.

      If Vassilis, Draco’s elderly major-domo, had reservations about his employer’s choice of guest, he gave no sign of it.

      She knew now what building work Draco had found it necessary to supervise, because she was living in it.

      It was a guest bungalow, completely separate from the villa itself, with its own garden and pool, tucked away in a corner of the grounds.

      It had a large living room, where her meals were served, a bathroom, with a big sunken tub as well as a conventional shower, and a huge bedroom, with walls painted in pale gold and a king-size bed with an ivory cover, draped in matching filmy curtains.

      The perfect love nest, she’d thought, lips twisting, as Vassilis had shown her round it. All that was lacking was the perfect love.

      But at least she was the first one to stay there. She hadn’t had to spend her first sleepless night speculating on the women who’d occupied this bed before her. Her СКАЧАТЬ