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Christos knew which option he wanted. He wanted to forget the last forty minutes. Wanted to turn back time. To the plane? No, to that moment in his penthouse two months ago. On his sofa. That hadn’t been a solitary moment. That had been an intense pleasure they’d shared. And it had felt...very good indeed.

‘Can I do anything?’ she said eventually, and he was hit with acute disappointment. Because he would’ve liked her to offer comfort of a different sort.

Aware he was reverting to his baser instincts, once more, he prowled forward. ‘You know your way around, ne? If not, I’m sure the staff will point you in the right direction. I’ll find you when I’m done.’

He walked past her. Past the evocative scent lingering on her skin. Those alluring eyes trailing after him. And even as he undressed and stepped beneath the shower, he couldn’t dispel her image from his mind. The image of the lips he wanted to drown in, so he could forget his grandfather’s mortality hung in the balance.

Tight-jawed after several minutes of failing to bring himself under control, he twisted the shower knob to cold, then solemnly accepted his punishment.

* * *

His grandfather, most likely alerted to Christos’s conversation with his doctor, was waiting for him. And the first salvo Costas delivered sent him reeling.

‘I’m sorry, can you repeat that?’ Christos asked in shock.

‘You’re not deaf. You’ve known of my desire to see you married with a family of your own since you were a child, Christos. You have until the party to convince me that you’re not trying to deceive me wi

th this so-called marriage of yours, or I’ll hand over Drakonisos to your cousin. He’s already got a family, after all.’

Thought of a possible double loss of his grandfather and his beloved island drove a cold sweat down his spine but he refused to cower. ‘Perhaps I should let you and then simply buy it off Georgios,’ he countered.

‘You can try. You won’t succeed. Contingencies are written into my will.’

‘Why are you doing this to me, Pappous?’

His grandfather’s lips twisted. ‘You forget that I was married for over half a century. I know what lust looks like, Christos.’

‘So you want me to prove myself to you by pawing my wife in front of you?’ As distasteful as the words sounded, he couldn’t stop the sliver of red-hot desire that slithered through him. And as much as he wanted to despise himself for it, he couldn’t quite summon the outrage.

His grandfather grimaced. ‘I’m not that crass, Christos. But you didn’t deny that you’re living apart. And you dancing around each other only supports my impression that all this is just a production put on to placate me. I’m simply giving you an opportunity to prove me wrong.’

Christos knew that to argue with his grandfather—the man who knew him better than any other living soul—would be useless.

His only solution was to step up to the plate and deliver.

That traitorous sliver grew into a solid vein, pulsing with excitement and...anticipation.

* * *

‘Where are we going?’

Christos took her hand in his—because if there were spies in England reporting his activities back to Costas, then there were spies in his grandfather’s household—and led her into the living room. ‘Costas is determined this party is going ahead.’

She frowned. ‘You couldn’t talk him out of it?’

‘Since I don’t relish banging my head against a brick wall, I didn’t even try.’

‘Okay...’ Her hand trembled within his and her gaze dropped to the fingers he was slowly—unbeknownst to him—meshing with his.

‘First things first, we need to prepare you for the party.’

She frowned. ‘Prepare me?’

He nodded to the large TV screen. ‘There are three stylists at your disposal. Choose what you need, no expense spared.’

‘I have my own clothes, Christos.’

‘As my assistant, you have a clothing allowance. Why should this be any different as my wife?’

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