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One of his hands was still clasping her breast, and she covered it with hers, murmuring drowsily, “Love you so much.”
Her too-macho husband still didn’t answer, but it was okay.
Actions spoke louder than words, and she was content.
Chapter Six
“How much do you think this photo would fetch if we have the gossip rags bidding for it?” The question came from Damen Leventis, who had just sauntered inside the kitchen with his usual air of arrogance. A billionaire like his friends, he possessed intensely handsome looks that left his female fans in awe as much as his business tactics rendered men in the corporate world speechless in admiration.
“I wouldn’t know,” Stavros Manolis answered politely as he followed his friend inside. “But I’d probably pay a million euros myself, just to have the privilege of sharing it on social media.”
“Assholes.”
But this only made the two men smirk because the sight of the famously alpha Kyrillos Gazis, wearing a damn apron, was too much not to make fun of.
“Did you invite us here to show off your newly acquired skills?” Damen drawled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kyr didn’t answer right away, too busy making sure that he didn’t mess up as he carefully pulled out the cake from the oven. He had baked it from scratch, and while it didn’t exactly look like the photo on the recipe from the Internet, he told himself it would surely taste as good.
Behind him, his friends burst into laughter.
“White-colored shit, right?” Damen guessed.
Stavros was slightly more diplomatic. “Just use your billions, Gazis, and do yourself and your wife a favor. Buy a cake.”
“I can’t.” Kyr studied the cake grimly. “She wanted me to bake the cake tonight.” And if anyone, he thought broodingly, had told him years ago he would bake a cake just because a certain someone had asked, he would have thought that person was insane.
And yet here he was, having baked a goddamn cake.
“You lost a bet, didn’t you?” Damen clucked his tongue in sham sympathy.
Before he could answer, the door to the kitchen swung open again, and this time it was his wife, with one twin holding each of her hands.
The kids brightened at the familiar faces of his friends.
“Uncle Stavros, Uncle Damen.”
The two crouched down so the kids could kiss their cheeks, and after they straightened up to greet Pollyanna as well.
“Keep your hands up where the husband can see it,” Damen warned Stavros as the other man bent to kiss Pollyanna’s cheek. “You remember that report on Dubai, right?”
Kyr scowled. “That was an exaggeration.”
His friends exchanged looks and smirked.
“Yeah, sure,” Damen said, but his tone was patently unconvinced.
Pollyanna grinned but didn’t say a thing. Something she would never admit to her husband, because she knew how perverse he could be, was the fact that she loved it when he was possessive and jealous over her.
Which he had been so, quite terribly, in Dubai, Pollyanna reminisced. While they had been at Dubai’s airport, something about the color of her hair seemed to draw every Arab man’s attention towards her. This had not sat well with her husband at all, and she had found herself dragged to the first Arab clothing store and made to wear the women’s traditional costume.
It left her covered, head to toe, with only her eyes visible.
Kyr had been satisfied.
Her daughter Ella had taken one look at her and gasped in awe, “Jasmine,” referring to the Disney princess.
But her son Dio had not recognized her at all and burst into unmanly tears, crying, “Where’s Mama?”
Dio had been so distraught that Kyr immediately got rid of the costume, settling instead for a wide-brimmed hat that did little to cover her hair. The entire time Kyr had seethed beside her, she had felt like the most desirable woman in the world. While she would never try to make him jealous, it did feel good when it happened.
“It’s my wife’s birthday today.” Kyr’s voice brought her back to the present.
“Happy birthday,” his friends readily said, both of them wearing dazzling grins that she knew the public didn’t always see from them.
“Thank you,” she said, thinking ruefully that Kyr and the other two were so much alike they could pass as triplets. More than the fact that they were all handsome, powerful, Greek alpha men with more money than they needed, they were also emotionally guarded, bordering on paranoid. She could count in one hand the number of times she had seen a smiling photo of any of the three on the Internet.
“Are you throwing a private party then?” Damen asked.
“Yes, but you’re not invited.”
“Kyr!” Pollyanna shook her head in dismay.
Ignoring his wife’s protest, Kyr picked up Dio and dumped him on Damen’s lap, doing the same to Ella for Stavros. Then he stepped back. “Starting now, you two are officially on babysitting duty.”
