Husband for the Holidays

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“A WEEK ?” E LOISE BUSTLED ahead of him into their hotel sitting room, sounding agitated. “When did you decide that?”

“When I found out the waiting period was a week,” he drawled. “It’s a month here in France. Would you rather marry tomorrow? We could fly to Gibraltar.” Say yes , he willed.

“But why are you in such a hurry?” Her skirt billowed as she whirled and face him. “To put pressure on Antoine?” She was fiddling with her ring, looking anxious, so he took a moment to consider how his words might land.

“I thought my motive was obvious.” He shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and loosened his bowtie. “When you said you’re a virgin, I presumed we’d wait until our wedding night. I don’t want to wait a year to make love to you. It’s all I can do to wait a week.”

She started to say something, hesitated, then blurted, “Do I have any say in that?”

“You have all the say in that. Why? Is that too fast?”

Her gaze skittered away from his, chin setting belligerently, and he was overcome by the most tender delight.

“Or is it too slow?” he asked knowingly.

“Don’t make me feel embarrassed for it!” she said crossly.

“How exactly do you feel?” He padded toward her, trying not to be smug, but damn this reaction of hers was satisfying. “Are you impatient? You seemed nervous when we talked about it yesterday.”

“I’m terrified,” she admitted, letting her hand alight on the pleats of his shirtfront before she jerked it back as though scorched. “What if it’s awful? And then we’re stuck with each other? Do you really want that? To go into marriage blind?”

“Now your inexperience really is showing.” He took her hand and lightly tugged an invitation to move closer. “There’s no chance of it being awful. We have incredible chemistry, Eloise. That’s why you melt every time I touch you.”

She was doing it now, leaning into him, but fighting it. He tried to rub the tension from her shoulder blades.

“It’s not the same for you, though,” she mumbled into his shirt. “You don’t feel this helpless. Do you?” Her brows came together crossly.

“No, I feel powerful. Like I’m holding the sun.” He brought her hand to the back of his neck and trailed his touch down the velvet that covered her arm. She shivered and caught her breath. He smiled. “It’s intoxicating. Exciting.”

“That doesn’t sound equal. It sounds like you’re in control and I’m not.”

“But how does it feel ?” he chided as he shifted the velvet of her gown against her, rubbing the slippery silk lining against her skin.

He definitely liked her in high heels. When she let her head fall back, her mouth was right there for the slant of his.

The taste of her sent a sweep of heat through him, like a sip of fine scotch. He wanted to get drunk on her. To gulp her down, but therein lay the danger. He had to keep some control in this.

Still, as he made himself lift his head and say, “I’m going to shower,” he couldn’t resist adding, “I won’t lock the door. Join me if you want to.”

He left her with heat searing from her lips to the pit of her belly. With a sense of being abandoned, but of wanting to abandon herself.

Take me , she thought.

But he wanted something that was infinitely more difficult. He wanted her to give herself to him. That took bravery and trust. It might even cost her soul.

But he was already in possession of it.

Was she being a complete fool? How well did she really know him? Barely at all! Her brother had trusted him and Konstantin felt a compelling debt toward Ilias, but what did he feel for her ? Nothing so deep as what she felt toward him.

It made the act of going to him more than just a conscious decision. It was a huge risk, but she wanted to believe that if she had the courage to take this step, she might find the deeper regard and loving relationship she was looking for.

She kicked off her shoes and walked on unsteady legs into his room, dropping her gown to the floor along the way. She came up against the cracked door where she could hear the quiet rustle of clothing. She slowly pushed it open.

He turned from hanging his trousers on a hook, naked but for the snug black underwear that outlined his erection straining the front. His gaze ate up her powder-pink strapless bra and matching lace cheekies while she admired the bronzed cast that was his chest and muscled shoulders and tense abdomen.

His attention came back to her face and he said, “I should have got the pink ones.”

She touched her ear. “I should, um...” She removed her jewelry, leaving it in the empty soap dish with her hairpins. Then she used a couple of the complementary makeup removal wipes, aware of him standing so close she could feel the heat off his body, but he didn’t touch her.

“You’re not going to start the shower?” she asked as she dropped the little pads into the bin.

“I’m enjoying watching you. And don’t be mad when I say this, but I’m surprised how short you are.”

She dipped her chin in warning.

“It’s because you have a very sunny personality. I saw it tonight. You make people smile and when you tell a story, people want to hear it. It makes you seem bigger than you are. I think that’s why I didn’t recognize you right away in New York. I genuinely remembered you taller than you really are.”

“Thank you, I guess?” she said wryly.

“I mean it as a compliment. I hate parties and you made tonight bearable.”

“That’s another compliment? Maybe if we workshop them before delivery.”

His mouth twitched. “See, like that. You’re funny and engaging.”

He leaned into the shower and wrenched the taps on. As the hiss of the water filled the room and the air grew so thick it was hard to breath, he very casually skimmed down his underwear and stepped out of them, then straightened to his full intimidating height. His erection jutted out, unabashed.

“Let’s not waste water,” he chided, and nodded at her to finish stripping.

Her stomach pitched with nerves as she reached behind herself to release her bra, letting it fall to the floor before she rolled her cheekies down her legs, too shy to look at him as she stepped out of them.

He held the door for her like a gentleman, then followed her into the cubicle.

It wasn’t the spacious shower of his New York penthouse and she didn’t have it all to herself. This one was big enough for two, but just barely. His body brushed hers beneath the spray and his arm grazed her breast when he reached for the soap. He rolled the bar between his hands, then he slid his soapy hands over her skin, dragging her close and planting a wet hungry kiss across her mouth.

A glorious rush pulsed through her. She gave in to her wicked, greedy urge to slick her hands over his sides and back and up to his shoulders, then rubbed her breasts against the lather in the fine hairs on his chest and welcomed his tongue with the brush of her own.

He groaned and pressed her into the cool tiles. There was a dull thud of the soap falling. His hands covered her breasts, massaging and flicking her nipples in a way that sent wires of electric heat deep between her thighs, making her writhe.

His erection was a thick insistent shape against her abdomen and she started to touch him, then hesitated.

“Go ahead,” he rasped, easing back enough that she could stroke the steely shape of him.

“Show me?” she asked shyly.

He wrapped his hand over hers and crushed her fist around his girth, moving in her hand as she began to stroke him. She was fascinated and smugly pleased when he closed his eyes and bit out a ragged curse.

He leaned down to kiss her, saying against her mouth, “I can feel you smiling. Do you think I’ll let you take me over the edge without you?” His hand slid down her abdomen and between her thighs, capturing her mound in a possessive cup that pooled water against her flesh, rinsing away the soap before his touch delved into her folds.

Despite the lack of lather, his fingertips slid easily against her aroused flesh. She gasped at the stark intimacy of it, the sensitivity and sparking points of pleasure.

“What if we’re not good together?” he mocked and probed lightly against her entrance. “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not even sure what to expect, only knowing that she wanted more . More pleasure. More intimacy. More of him.

His long finger penetrated her. It wasn’t painful, but it was strangely intense. Deeply personal, then...

“Oh...” she groaned as he played his thumb across the bundle of nerves that sent pleasure thrumming through her whole being.

“Squeeze me tight,” he urged against the corner of her mouth.

She didn’t know if he meant with her hand or her body, but she was nothing but tension from head to toe, making noises that echoed off the walls of the shower while he danced his touch into her body and against her clit. She gave him her tongue and moved with him, wallowing in how sexy and smutty and good it felt.

Then she was teetering at the pinnacle. He held her bottom lip in a gentle scrape of his teeth while his dark eyes turned midnight black.

The tension inside her released in a sudden rush of contractions. She might have been embarrassed by how quickly she’d fallen apart, but he was tilting back his head, groaning at the ceiling while the water rained down and he pulsed in her hand.

After they dried off, he left her in his bed with a lingering kiss, saying, “I need to make some calls.”

“It’s midnight.” She felt like butter and wanted to melt herself all over his toasty form.

“Not in Australia. That’s where your mother’s trustee retired to.” He pulled on the trousers he’d been wearing earlier in the day. “I want to speak to some of my Sydney people about locating him. I don’t know if he has ties to Antoine so they need to be delicate.”

“Oh.” She had thought they might continue making love. Was he being chivalrous or had she done something wrong?

“Sleep. I’ll join you soon.” He rose and walked out.

She tried to stay awake, but all the travel and stress must have caught up to her. She was deeply asleep when she realized Konstantin was rolling away from spooning behind her, leaving the bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked drowsily, completely disoriented by the sound of him zipping into his trousers. Hadn’t he done that already?

“Some genius ordered the maid to come early so she could pack up all your new clothes.” His voice was graveled with sleep. “Our flight plan is filed for nine.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t help grimacing. “Are you the genius?”

“I am the genius.”

She desperately wanted to duck under the blanket and sleep longer, but as he closed the door she heard him let the maid into the sitting room. She threw off the covers and hurried into the bathroom so she could steal the robe off the back of the door.

The rest of the morning was taken up by travel. They flew straight to Crete, landing in Heraklion before they transferred into a helicopter that hopped them to Konstantin’s mountaintop villa.

It was a spectacular estate, especially when viewed from above. The house sprawled in decadent white wings with pretty balconies and windows that reflected sky and sea. There was a courtyard with a pergola of vines over it and a broad terrace with a pool set into it like a jewel. The roof was covered in solar panels and the surrounding hillsides were skirted with vineyards and olive groves amid the broken walls of ancient ruins.

The path from the helicopter pad toward the house was flanked in bougainvillea and potted citrus trees struggling to bloom in the cool temperatures of December.

A stocky young man hurried out to greet them, black curly hair cut very short, glasses slightly askew.

“ Kyrie ... Kyría ,” he greeted, adding in heavily accented English, “Once again, I must apologize for the confusion with the rooms in Nice.”

“It’s done,” Konstantin dismissed. “Eloise, this is Nemo, assistant to my EA. I was expected to be on vacation, so I’ve been leaning heavily on him this week.”

“I’m honored to meet you, kyría . Welcome to Greece. My number is in your phone. Please call or text me with anything I can do to make you more comfortable here.”

“I was born in Athens,” she said in Greek. “I’m already very comfortable here.”

“You speak Greek?” Konstantin snapped his attention to her. “Why have we been speaking English?”

“I’m rusty,” she excused with a shrug. “I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I’ll brush up now that I’m here, though.”

“You certainly will,” Konstantin muttered. In Greek.

Nemo looked between them, not sure if he was supposed to be amused.

“Please come meet Filomena,” he decided to say. “She’s the niece of the regular housekeeper who is on vacation. She has a young family so she can only come in for a few hours each morning. I’ve contacted an agency if you’d like someone here full-time?”

“Mornings are fine,” Konstantin said to the young woman when they found her putting away groceries in the kitchen. “Thank you for coming on short notice.”

“Of course.” She smiled shyly at both of them.

“Oh, this is beautiful,” Eloise said as they moved from the expansive kitchen out to the living area.

The decor was soothing grays and muted earth tones, picking up the colors of the marble floor and contrasting against the white walls. Beyond the abundant windows, the terrace and pool sat against a screen of endless blue sea and scudding clouds. Eloise was drawn outside to the covered dining area where she was protected from the bite of the damp wind.

Inside, she heard Konstantin say, “When can we expect the—wait. Let it be a surprise for Eloise, since it’s for her. When will it arrive?”

“This afternoon,” Nemo assured him. “And where...um...?” He smiled uncertainly as Eloise came back inside, drawn by curiosity. “Where would you like me to put it?”

“Here.” Konstantin waved at a cozy seating area next to the fireplace, where she could imagine herself curling up to read a book and sip a glass of wine.

“Are you getting a tree?” Eloise guessed, warmed that he would indulge her like that. “You don’t have to do that for me if it’s not something you usually have.”

“The tree will be here tonight,” Nemo said, faltering in a brief way that suggested to Eloise that he was expecting more than a tree. “Filomena’s husband will bring it. She looked for decorations in the storage room, but couldn’t find any.”

“I don’t have any,” Konstantin said.

“I’ll pick some up later and hang them tonight. Do you have a color preference?” Nemo asked Eloise.

“You probably don’t know, but I happen to be one of Santa’s helpers.” Eloise splayed her hand on her chest. “As such, I would love to buy decorations and hang them. It sounds like you have enough to do.”

“It’s no trouble for me.” Nemo looked to Konstantin for guidance, seeming anxious not to step on her toes, but nor was he about to shirk his duties.

“We’ll go into the village and see what we can find,” Konstantin said, adding ironically, “So Santa can get his sled in here without being seen.”

“Konstantin, I haven’t even got you one gift,” Eloise protested, growing anxious as she suspected something else was planned. Her finances did not run to plane fare and sapphire earrings and whatever else he was planning, either. Buying a few baubles for the tree would be a strain.

“I don’t need anything,” Konstantin said dismissively. “Except thirty minutes to finish speaking with Nemo. Please tell Filomena we’ll find dinner while we’re out. She doesn’t need to prepare anything.” He turned back to Nemo. “Come into my office and tell me where we are with the lawyers.”

Eloise delivered her message, but Filomena wouldn’t let her help in the kitchen or let her carry up the luggage that the pilot had left on a cart in the breezeway.

“Nemo and I will unpack it while you’re out,” she promised.

She told Eloise where to shop for decorations, but didn’t have any suggestions for a gift for Konstantin. “My husband enjoys assembling model planes and fishing so I always have options in that vein.”

Did Konstantin have hobbies? Eloise didn’t know, which was an uncomfortable reminder that she was marrying a man who was still a mystery to her. One who had made her feel divine, then left her in the bed and walked away, not seeming nearly as affected by their interlude in the shower as she had been.

He had also delivered her back to her mother and put her stepfather on notice. She wanted to show her gratitude for that. She had to give him something and it had to be meaningful.

She picked up her phone to search inexpensive gifts for men , but was struck by the perfect idea before she’d unlocked her screen.

She hurried back to the kitchen to ask Filomena where she could find what she needed.

Konstantin parked the Jeep in one of the spots facing the beach, then walked around to wrap his arm around Eloise, trying to protect her from the gust of salt-scented wind.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” Eloise asked as they reached the stoop of a kafeneio .

“Sure.” He used his free hand to reach for the door, but her words halted him.

“Good. Stay here while I nip out for something.”

“What is it?” He flexed his arm, keeping her beside him. “I can go.”

“Filomena told me where I could get your gift.”

“No, thank you.” He held onto her as she tried to slip away from him and leave the stoop.

“What do you mean no thank you ?” She scraped at a tendril of hair that the breeze whipped across her face. “It’s for Christmas.”

“I told you I don’t need anything. But let’s get coffee. We can drink it while we shop. It won’t feel so cold once we’re in the alleys.” He started to open the door again.

She dug in her heels. “Konstantin. You didn’t ask me if I wanted three thousand gifts in four days. You just gave them to me.”

“Because they’re things I want you to have.”

She said nothing, only stared pointedly at him.

“I don’t like receiving gifts,” he admitted, shifting so he was at least forming a buffer against the wind, protecting her from it.

“Why not?”

In his mind’s eye, he saw a toy sailboat hit the stones of the chimney, smashing into pieces. “I just don’t like it.”

“So the gift you refuse to give me is the gift of giving you a gift?” she challenged.

“Yes.”

The amusement in her gaze turned searching. Troubled.

“It’s a lot of secrets and subterfuge. For what?” He tried to downplay it.

“It’s fun. Otherwise, you would tell me what’s being delivered while we’re out.”

He didn’t want to tell her. He wanted to see her reaction when they got home and found it there.

“I’m not getting you dance lessons or an ugly tie, I swear,” she cajoled. “It’s just something small that I want you to have because I don’t think you do. I think you’ll like it.”

That was the issue. If he did like it, and revealed that, it could be used against him.

She wasn’t like that. He knew she wasn’t. But there was still a hard wall inside him that wanted to stay firm and strong against even the possibility of cruelty.

She looked so earnest, though.

He sighed shortly. “It’s really that important to you?”

“I could have bought it by now if we hadn’t been arguing about it all this time.”

“Go, then. Be back in ten minutes or I’m coming to look for you.”

He went inside to order coffee, then he sat at one of the outdoor tables, watching up the street for her to return, irritated with himself for being so churlish with her.

He’d been feeling off-balance since their shower last night. The sex hadn’t been adventurous, but it had been intimate enough and powerful enough that he’d needed some time to put himself back together afterward.

Thankfully, she’d been fast asleep when he came to bed or he would have made love with her. He wanted to. Physically, his body was craving hers the way vampires craved blood, but on a more psychic level she was churning up his equilibrium.

He kept himself closed off for a reason, trying not to ruin lives through deliberate negligence, but otherwise he took little responsibility for how others felt. Eloise was different. Every emotion that emanated from her sifted through him in some way. If she seemed distressed, he wanted to remove the reason for it. If she smiled, he felt it like a thousand rays of sunshine bursting into life within him.

This growing attachment to her grated most of all, warning him that he was developing an Achilles’ heel.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that she’d always been one. It was only widening now that he was spending time with her, encompassing more and more of him as he allowed her to get closer.

Damn it, he’d forgotten to ask if she needed money.

He tapped his pocket to ensure he had his phone and wallet as he rose to stand, but there she was, walking toward him. If she had purchased something, it was in the shoulder bag she had brought with her.

“Cream, one sugar,” he said, offering the take-out cup of coffee he’d ordered for her.

“Thank you.” She sipped and closed her eyes. “Mmm... Greek coffee. My one true love.”

Not me?

The whimsical words hovered on his tongue. He bit them back, but wondered where the urge to say them had come from. He wasn’t jealous of coffee. Was he?

“Filomena said there’s a shop with a green awning that would have decorations. I think I saw it when I passed that alley back there.”

They shopped for the next hour, picking out garlands and ornaments and a centerpiece for the table, then ordered sweet and savory treats from the bakery to be delivered the next day. After leaving their purchases in the Jeep, they went into a nearby taverna where they sat by a window overlooking the wharf.

“We should walk out there after dinner. I always loved seeing the boats decorated with lights.” Eloise cupped her hands around the tsikoudia -spiked toddy she’d ordered and smiled across the steam that rose from the mug. “Ilias would buy cookies and we’d eat them on the beach while we watched boats go by. It was one of our Christmas traditions. Thank you for today. This is the first year without him that I’ve felt the least bit interested in celebrating.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, mildly amused that she was expressing more gratitude over glass ornaments and strings of lights than she had for the designer clothes or sapphire earrings he’d given her.

It had been a pleasant afternoon, though. More enjoyable that he would have expected. He put his mellow mood down to the warmed shot of raki with honey, cinnamon and clove he was nursing.

“What sorts of traditions did you have, growing up?” she asked.

“None,” he dismissed and looked to the menu neither of them had read yet. “Should we have the stifado ?” It was a rustic beef stew made with red wine and tomato. “It seems to be their specialty.”

“That sounds good. Thank you.” She waited while he waved over the server and ordered, then said, “I’m sorry, Konstantin. I didn’t realize that you don’t celebrate Christmas. I presumed you were culturally Christian if not practicing. Do you observe something else?”

“No.”

“Then why...?” She frowned with puzzlement.

He came up against the contradiction where he preferred not to discuss his past, but saw that it would be more practical to make his explanation so he would never have to talk about it again. “It’s nothing to do with religion. When I was very young, there wasn’t any money for birthdays or Christmas. If we had a good meal on any day of the year, that was celebration enough. After my mother was gone, neither my grandfather nor I had much interest in any of the holidays so I’ve never observed them.”

“What about when you were at school? We always had a year-end party and exchanged gifts in our dorms. You didn’t do things like that?”

“The other boys did.” They would buzz with talk of where their family would travel to ski or see relatives, excited by what they hoped to find under the tree. “Some would pester me to draw a name, but there were a handful of other boys who didn’t celebrate for whatever reason. It was easy enough to opt out.”

“Ilias never gave you any gifts?” She couldn’t believe that.

“Video games,” he said drily, under no illusion as to his friend’s motive. “So I could be coerced into playing them with him.”

“He was always sneaky like that, wasn’t he?”

He was. And he would look at Konstantin with an expression like hers, too. Not pitying exactly, but earnest and fretful, wanting to pull him into the group. Wanting him to experience a high that Konstantin knew would only put him in danger of a fall.

“You don’t miss what you’ve never had,” he said in a tone of finality.

She flinched, which he regretted, but their stew arrived so it was easy enough to close the subject and move on to other things.