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The woman looked from Petros to him. Then, with another defiant look that sent yet another hot poker of lust through him, she flicked on her phone.
His breath strangled in his chest, his free hand bunching at his side as her fingers flew over the screen. Only for those kissable lips to purse. ‘I don’t have any cell reception.’
He smiled to hide the searing disappointment and acute hollowness in his stomach. ‘You don’t need the Internet to access photos on your phone, Miss Diamandis. Are you saying that you don’t have a single photo of us together on your camera roll?’ he taunted.
He followed the path of heat that rushed into her face before her gaze fell from his. He caught the tail of wariness and his insides stiffened further. There was something else going on here, something besides her outrageous announcement.
He wanted to catch her chin and direct her gaze to his, but he’d allowed himself to be distracted by this woman for long enough.
‘It’sMrsDiamandis,’ she said, another peculiar look flickering over her smooth, satin-like skin. ‘Or Miss Callahan if you prefer to use my maiden name.’
He didn’t prefer it. If they truly shared a connection, he would never resort to her previous name. The clutch of possessiveness made him press his lips together.
‘And as Petros said, we have a marriage ceremony to finish. Admit you stormed in here to get a top-up of whatever titivation you were up to last night,’ he said, unable to stop his gaze from trailing over her again, swallowing discreetly at the sight of her spectacular, bare legs. ‘And I will let you walk away with an apology.’
Her chin rose, green fire swirling in her eyes. ‘And if I don’t?’
A few breaths caught in the audience, the few who understood English hearing the taunt in her tone.
‘Yiannis, please take care of this,’ Thea urged softly in Greek.
He stared down into her gentle face. Petros’s only child was modestly beautiful, her features draped in that touch of melancholy that had clung to her after the loss of her fiancé three years ago. He wasn’t sure whether it was her delicateness or that melancholy that had kept him at arm’s length, even during their very short engagement.
Whatever it was, it’d never prompted him to even kiss or take things further with her.
While he hadn’t given much thought about the type of woman he preferred, Thea definitively lacked the daring and feistiness of the woman claiming to be his wife.
He grimaced inwardly at the comparison but admitted that, as much as he liked Thea Angelos, this had never been a love match. They’d drifted into a friendship encouraged by Petros, a man who had seen a chance to perpetuate his family and determinedly stoked it. And he, Yiannis, had gone along with it because he’d felt as if he owed Petros something after the man had saved his life.
‘Ne,’he responded now. This interruption had gone on long enough. ‘If you don’t, I’ll have you escorted out.’
He turned and nodded to the priest, who breathed a sigh of relief and climbed back onto the dais. Before he could open his mouth, the woman’s husky voice froze proceedings. Again.
‘Your superyacht, which you namedOphelia I, after your mother, is anchored a mile offshore,’ she blurted. ‘If you don’t believe me, just step outside. You can see it from the top of this hill. You have a staff of thirty-five manning it, and you’ve known the pilot since you were twenty-one years old. You were on board the yacht when you fell over the side and were presumed drowned ten months ago. Every single person on that vessel can corroborate who you are. Or you can go ahead and commit bigamy. Your choice.’
He stiffened. Not at the announcement that he was wealthy enough to own a superyacht, but at the acute sensation that cut through him at her words. He couldn’t deny she had the timing right. As she did the ‘presumed drowned’ part. Because he’d been in serious danger of drowning when Petros and his men had fished him out of the ocean.
But there was something else.
The knowledge that this supposed affluence surely came with responsibility.
Clout. Power. Dynamism.More.
All facets of himself he’d sensed echoing just out of reach. Facets he’d suppressed because it’d made him seem ungrateful for the open-hearted generosity Petros and his family had shown him. Facets he’d felt pulling at him in his unguarded moments when he should’ve been basking in the wealth of affection and warmth but had instead felt...adrift. Grateful, yes, but...diminished.
He felt it strain within him now, tethers of this life binding him when he wanted...no, wasdestinedto be free.
Or was he being fanciful? Reaching for something his faulty psyche was tricking him into believing he needed?
All because of this woman?
A raised murmur went through the crowd as he hesitated. A few people rose from the pew and drifted towards the window, eager to verify for themselves.
When he heard the first gasp, a knot twisted painfully in his gut, then slowly began to unravel, loosening the first of many leashes.
‘Yiannis,’ Petros uttered his name cautiously.
But he knew...deep in his bones,he knew, this was the moment he’d waited ten long months for.
