Bought ForThe Greek's Bed Page 3

  He shooed her out, and she went, though she was still uneasy. Had she just been got rid of to stop her asking another question in that line of enquiry?

  Yet the following day there was no sign of the tension she thought she’d seen in him, and when they arrived at the prestigious yacht club, clearly the preserve of the extremely well-heeled of Athens, her uncle’s spirits were high. Hers were less so, and she found her reserve growing as the tall figure at the table they were being conducted to unfolded his lean frame and stood up.

  Lunch was not a comfortable meal. Though the majority of the conversation was in English, Vicky got the feeling that another conversation was taking place—one that she was not a party to. But that was not the source of her discomfort. It was very much the man they were lunching with, and the way his dark, assessing eyes would flick to her every now and then, with a look in them that did not do her ease any good at all.

  As the meal progressed she realised she was becoming increasingly aware of him—of his sheer physical presence, the way his hands moved, the strength of his fingers as they lifted a wineglass, or curved around the handle of his knife. The way his sable hair feathered very slightly over his forehead, the way the strong column of his throat moved as he talked. And the way he talked, whether in English or Greek, that low, resonant timbre doing strange things to her—things she would prefer not to happen. Such as raising her heart rate slightly, and making her stomach nip every now and then as her eyes, as they must during conversation, went to his face.

  She watched covertly as he lifted his hand in the briefest gesture, to summon the maître d’. He came at once, instantly, and was immediately all attention. And Vicky realised, with a disturbing little frisson down her spine, that there was another reason other than his dark, planed looks that made him attractive.

  It was the air of power that radiated from him. Not obvious, not ostentatious, not deliberate, but just—there.

  This was a man who got what he wanted, and there would never, in his mind, be the slightest reason to think otherwise.

  She gave an inward shiver. It wasn’t right, her rational mind told her, to find that idea of uncompromising power adding to his masculinity. It was wrong for a host of reasons, ethical and moral.

  But it was so, all the same.

  And she resented it. Resented the man who made her think that way. Respond to him that way.

  No! This was ridiculous. She was getting all worked up over someone who was, in the great scheme of things, completely irrelevant to her. He had invited her uncle for lunch, presumably for that singular mix of business and sociality that those in these wealthy circles practised as a matter of course, and she had been included in the invitation for no other reason than common courtesy.

  She forced herself to relax. Her uncle was turning to her, saying something, and she made herself pay attention with a smile.

  ‘You are fond of Mozart, are you not, pethi mou?’

  She blinked. Where had that question come from? Nevertheless, she answered with a smile, ‘Yes—why do you ask?’

  But it was their host who answered.

  ‘The Philharmonia are in Athens at the moment, and tomorrow night they are giving a Mozart concert. Perhaps you would like to attend?’

  Vicky’s eyes went to her uncle. He was smiling at her benignly. She was confused. Did he want to go? If he did, she would be happy—more than happy—to go with him. Aristides liked showing her off, she knew, and as she did indeed like Mozart’s music, she’d be happy to go to a concert.

  ‘That sounds lovely,’ she answered politely.

  Her uncle’s smile widened. ‘Good, good.’ He nodded. He glanced across at their host and said something in Greek that Vicky did not understand, and was answered briefly in the same language. He turned back to his niece.

  ‘You can be ready by seven, can you not?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she answered. She frowned slightly. Why had her uncle spoken to their host about it?

  She discovered, with a little stab of dismay, just why on her way back to Athens with Aristides.

  ‘He wants to take me to the concert? But I thought we were going?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Aristides airily. ‘Alas, I don’t have time to go to concerts.’

  But he does, thought Vicky. A strange sensation had settled over her and she didn’t like it. She also didn’t like the feeling that she had been stitched up—set up…

  With no room to manoeuvre.

  Well, she thought grimly now, that was how it had started—and how it had gone on. And even now, after everything that had happened, all the storm and stress, the rage and frustration, she still did not know how it had ended up the way it had. How she had gone from being escorted to a Mozart concert by a man whose company disturbed her so profoundly, to becoming—her mouth pressed together in a thin, self-condemning line—his wife.

  Theo Theakis.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HOW could I have done it?

  The question still burned in her head, just as it always had. How could she have gone and married Theo Theakis? She’d done it, in the end, for the best of reasons—and it had been the worst mistake of her life.

  She could still remember the moment when her uncle had dropped the thunderbolt at her feet. Informing her that Theo Theakis was requesting her hand in marriage, as if they were living in the middle of a Victorian novel.

  Aristides had beamed at her. ‘Every woman in Athens wants to marry him!’

  Well, every woman in Athens is welcome to him! thought Vicky, as she sat there, staring blankly at her uncle, disbelief taking over completely as he extolled the virtues of a man she barely knew—but knew enough to be very, very wary of. Since the Mozart concert she had seen Theo Theakis only a handful of times—and she could hardly have said he’d singled her out in any particular way. Apart from knowing that he was rich, disturbingly attractive, and, from the few conversations she’d had with him about any non-trivial subject, dauntingly and incisively intelligent, he was a complete stranger. Nothing more than an acquaintance of her uncle, and no one she wanted to get any closer to.

  In fact, he was someone, for all the reasons she was so disturbingly aware of, her preferred option would have been to avoid. It would have been much, much safer…

  And now, out of nowhere, her uncle was saying he wanted to marry her?

  It was unbelievable—quite, quite unbelievable.

  She wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but as she stared at her uncle blindly she started to become aware of something behind the enthusiastic words. Something that dismayed her.

  He was serious—he was really, really serious. And more than serious.

  Vicky’s heart chilled.

  In her uncle’s face was the same tension she’d seen when she’d arrived in Athens. The tension that she’d been moved to ask about the evening she’d met Theo Theakis for the first time. And something more than tension—fear.

  It was shadowing his eyes, behind the eager smiles and the enthusiastic extolling of just why it would be so wonderful for her to be Theo Theakis. Behind her uncle’s glowing verbiage of how every woman would envy her for having Theo Theakis as a husband, she could hear a much more prosaic message.

  A dynastic marriage. Something quite unexceptional in the circles her uncle and aspiring bridegroom moved in. A marriage to link two wealthy families, two prominent Greek corporations.

  Oh, Aristides did not say it like that—he used terms like ‘so very suitable’—but Vicky could hear it all the same. And more. Vicky realised, with a sinking of her heart, that she could hear something much more anxious. Her uncle didn’t just want her to marry Theo Theakis—he needed her to…

  The chill around her heart intensified.

  She waited, feeling her nerves biting, until he had finally finished his peroration, and was looking at her with an anticipation that was not just hopeful but fearful, too. She picked her words with extreme care.

  ‘Uncle, woul
d such a marriage be advantageous to you from a…a business point of view?’

  There was a flicker in Aristides’s eyes, and for a moment he looked hunted. Then he rallied, using the same tone of voice as he had when she had impulsively asked him whether everything was all right.

  ‘Well, as you know, sadly my wife was not blessed with children, and so it has always been a question—what will happen to Fournatos when I am gone? Knowing that you, my niece, are married to Theo Theakis—whose business interests do not run contrary to those of Fournatos—would answer that question.’

  Vicky frowned slightly. ‘Does that mean the two companies would merge?’

  A shuttered, almost evasive look came into Aristides’ face.

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps. Eventually. But—’ His tone changed, becoming bright, eager, and, Vicky could tell from familiarity, deliberately pitched to address a female of her age, who should not be concerning herself with such mundane things as corporate mergers. ‘This is not what a young woman thinks about when a man wants to marry her! And certainly not when the man is as handsome as Theo Theakis!’

  It was the signal that he would not be drawn any more from the fairy tale he was spinning for her in such glowing colours. Vicky could get no more out of her uncle regarding the real reason behind this unbelievable idea of Theo Theakis saying he wanted to marry her. It was only the anxiety she felt about what she had seen so briefly in her uncle’s face and respect for his kindness and generosity that stopped her telling him that she had never heard anything so absurd and walking straight out.

  With rigid self-control she managed to hear him out, and then, with all the verbal dexterity she could muster, she said, ‘I’m…I’m overwhelmed.’

  ‘Of course, of course!’ Aristides said hurriedly. ‘Such a wonderful thing is most momentous!’

  Vicky hung on to her self-control by a thread. Groping about for some excuse to go, she muttered something about a dress fitting she had to get to in the city and slipped out of the room. Her mind was in turmoil.

  What on earth was going on?

  Her mouth set. Her uncle might not give her any answers, but she knew someone who could.

  Even though he was the very last person she wanted to go and see.

  She made herself do it, though. She went and confronted her suitor.

  He did not seem surprised to see her. He received her in his executive suite in a gleaming new office block, getting up from a huge leather chair behind an even bigger desk. As he got to his feet, his business suit looking like a million euros all on its own, Vicky again felt that frisson go through her. Here, in his own corporate eyrie, the impression of power that emanated from him was more marked than ever.

  She braced her shoulders. Well, that was all to the good. Obviously sentiment—despite her uncle’s fairy-tale ramblings about how wonderful it would be for her to be married to so handsome and eligible a man as Theo Theakis—had nothing to do with why the man standing in front of her had informed Aristides Fournatos that he would be interested in marrying her.

  Even as she formed the thought in her head, she had to cut it out straight away. ‘Marriage’ and ‘Theo Theakis’ in one sentence was an oxymoron of the highest order.

  ‘Won’t you sit down?’

  The dark-timbred voice sent its usual uneasy frisson down her spine. She wished it wouldn’t do that. She also wished she wasn’t so ludicrously responsive to the damn man the whole time. It had been the same all the way through that Mozart concert he’d taken her to, when she’d sat in constrained silence during the music and made even more constrained small talk during the interval. She’d been dreading he’d suggest going for supper afterwards, and had been thankful that he had simply returned her back to her uncle’s house, bidding her a formal good night. Since then she’d seen him a handful of times more, each encounter increasing her annoying awareness of his masculinity. His company disturbed her, and she kept out of any conversation that included him as much as possible. She also did her best to ignore the speculative looks and murmurs that she realised were directed towards them whenever they were together.

  Now, of course, she knew just what they had been speculating about.

  Well, it was time to put a stop to this nonsense right away.

  She sat herself down in the chair Theo Theakis was indicating, just in front of his desk, and crossed her legs, suddenly wishing the skirt she had on was longer and looser.

  ‘I take it your uncle has spoken to you?’

  Her eyes went to him. His face was impassive as he took his seat again, but his eyes seemed watchful.

  Vicky nodded. She took a breath.

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she began, and saw the slightest gleam start in the dark eyes. ‘But what on earth is going on?’ She eyed him frankly; it seemed the best thing to do. It took more energy than she liked.

  He studied her a moment, as if assessing her, and she found it took even more effort to hold his gaze. Then, after what seemed like an age, he spoke.

  ‘If you were completely Greek, or had been brought up here, you would not be asking that question.’ He quirked one eyebrow with a sardonic gesture. ‘You would not, of course, even be here, at this moment, alone with me in my office. But I appreciate I must make allowances for your circumstances.’

  Automatically Vicky could feel her hackles start to bristle, but he went smoothly on, leaning back in his imposing leather chair.

  ‘Very well, let me explain to you just what, as you say, is going on. Tell me,’ he said, and the glint was visible in his eyes again, ‘how au fait are you with the Greek financial press?’

  The bristles down Vicky’s spine stiffened, and deliberately she did not answer.

  ‘As I assumed,’ Theo Theakis returned smoothly. ‘You will, therefore, be unaware that there is currently a hostile bid in the market for your uncle’s company. Without boring you with the ways of stock market manoeuvrings, one way to defend against such an attack is for another company to take a non-hostile financial interest in the target company. This is currently the subject of discussion between your uncle and myself.’

  ‘Are you going to do it?’ Vicky asked bluntly.

  She could see his eyes veil. ‘As I said, it is a subject of current discussion,’ he replied.

  She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I don’t see what on earth this has to do with the insane conversation I’ve just had with him!’ she launched robustly.

  Did his face tighten? She didn’t know and didn’t care.

  ‘Your uncle is a traditionalist,’ observed Theo Theakis. ‘As such, he considers it appropriate for close financial relationships to be underpinned by close familial ones. A Fournatos-Theakis marriage would be the obvious conclusion.’

  Vicky took a deep breath.

  ‘ Theakis,’ she said, ‘this is the most idiotic thing I’ve heard in all my life. Two complete strangers don’t just marry because one of them is doing financial deals with the other’s uncle! Either there’s something more going on than I can spot, or else you’re as…unreal…as my uncle! Why on earth don’t you just do whatever you intend financially, and get on with it? I’ve got nothing to do with any of this!’

  His expression changed. She could see a plain reaction in it now.

  ‘Unfortunately that is not so.’ His voice was crisper, almost abrupt, and the light in his eye had steeled. ‘Answer me this question, if you please. How attached are you to your uncle?’

  ‘He’s been very kind to me, and apart from my mother he is my only living blood relative,’ Vicky replied stiffly. She felt under attack and didn’t know why—but she knew she didn’t like it.

  ‘Then you have a perfect way to acknowledge that,’ came the blunt reply. He leant forward in his seat, and automatically Vicky found herself backing into her chair. ‘Aristides Fournatos is a traditionalist, as I said. He is also a proud man. His company is under severe and imminent threat of a hostile acquisition, and his room to manoeuvre against it is highly limited. To pu
t it bluntly, I can save his company for him with a show of confidence and financial strength which will reassure his wavering major institutional shareholders because he is backed by the Theakis Corp. Now, personally, I am more than happy to do that, for a variety of reasons. Hostile bids are seldom healthy for the company acquired, and the would-be acquirer in this instance is known as an asset-stripper, which will dismember the Fournatos group to maximise revenues and award their own directors massive pay rises and stock options. In short, it will pick it apart like a vulture, and I would not want that to happen to any company, let alone Fournatos. However, my reasons for helping to stave off this attack are also personal. My father was close friends with Aristides, and for that reason alone I would not stand by and watch him lose the company to such marauders.’

  ‘But why does that have to involve anything other than a financial deal between you and my uncle?’ persisted Vicky.

  Cool, dark and quite unreadable eyes rested on her.

  ‘How do you feel about accepting charity, may I ask?’ Vicky could feel her hackles rising again, but the deep-timbred voice continued. ‘Aristides Fournatos does not wish to accept my financial support for his company without offering something in return.’

  ‘How about offering you some Fournatos shares?’ said Vicky.

  Theo Theakis’s expression remained unreadable.

  ‘Your uncle wishes to offer more.’ There was a pause—a distinct one, Vicky felt. Then Theo Theakis spoke again, as if choosing his next words with care. ‘As you know, your uncle has no heir. You are his closest relative. This is why he wishes to cement my offer of support to him at this time with marriage to yourself.’

  ‘You’re willing to marry me so you can get his company when he dies?’ Vicky demanded. If there was scorn in her voice she didn’t bother to hide it.

  The dark eyes flashed, and the sculpted mouth tightened visibly.

  ‘I’m willing to enter into a marriage with you to make it easier for Aristides to accept my offer to save his company from ruin.’ The sardonic look was back in his eyes now. ‘Believe me when I say that I would prefer your uncle to accept it unconditionally. However—’he held up an abrupt hand ‘—your uncle’s pride and his self-respect have already taken a battering by allowing his company to be exposed to such danger in the first place. I would not wish to look ungracious at what he is proposing. For him, this is a perfect solution all round. His pride is salved, his self-respect intact, his company is defended, its future is secured. And as for yourself—’ the dark eyes glinted again, and Vicky could feel a very strange sensation starting up in her insides ‘—your future will also be settled in a fashion that your uncle, standing as he feels himself to do in the place of your late father, considers ideal—marriage to a man to whom he can safely entrust you.’