Page 40 of The Greek Tycoon's Unwilling Wife

First she had had to go to her own room to find her clothes and snatch a quick shower. The extra seconds had ticked away while she had dithered over what to wear.

Just what did one wear to a sort of emotional trial? she wondered on a wave of near-hysteria. A trial in which Andreas was not only judge and jury but also very definitely counsel for the prosecution all at once. The lightweight sun-dress that was her first choice was discarded as being too revealing and frivolous. A white T-shirt and Indian print skirt went the same way when the button on the waistband of the skirt proved suddenly to be somehow too complicated for her unsteady fingers to fasten easily.

In the end she had kept the T-shirt and pulled on denim jeans to go with it before deciding that enough was enough—she’d made her point without risking him actually losing it completely—and hurrying down the stairs after him.

Andreas was in the big sitting room that opened onto the pool area. The first thing that Becca noticed about him was that he too had taken a moment to dress and was now wearing a short-sleeved black shirt, hanging open over his tanned chest, and loose black linen trousers that hung low on his narrow hips. Like her, he was barefooted, as he so often was around the house.

He had opened the patio doors and was standing gazing out at the glorious view of the ocean, but Becca had the distinct impression that he didn’t see anything but was intent on his own thoughts. He had a mug of the strong black coffee he invariably drank in one hand, and another mug containing a less potent version of the drink stood on the coffee-table behind him. He didn’t turn when Becca arrived, or make any sign of having noticed that she was there, but continued to stare, frowning, at the horizon until, after waiting a few moments to see what he would do, she cleared her throat pointedly.

‘You wanted to talk to me.’

His turn was slow, deliberately so, she felt and when he was facing her he let those deep-set black eyes run over her from the top of her head, still wet from her shower, down to her feet, and back up again.

‘Déjà vu,’ he murmured on a note of irony. ‘Haven’t we been here before?’

It was only then that Becca realised that they were in fact both dressed as if for a replay of the dreadful scene on the evening of their wedding day. The scene that had ended their marriage. The recollection was enough to drain some of the hard-won strength from her legs and make her think twice about picking up the mug of coffee for fear that her hand would shake so badly it would give away the way her nerves were tying themselves into tight, uncomfortable knots in her stomach. Instead she perched on the arm of one of the big leather-covered settees, hoping she looked moderately at ease.

‘So what are we going to talk about?’

Andreas took a sip from his coffee, stared down into the mug as if looking for inspiration in the dark liquid. The movement made Becca realise that, like her, he had snatched the time to have a fast shower before coming downstairs, his hair was still soaking too. But, unlike hers, the wet look flattered him, giving the blue-black strands a glistening sheen and a slightly spiky look that suited him, while her own heavily flattened, sodden rats’ tails had quite the opposite effect.

‘Why don’t we start with you telling me just what was so important to you that you were prepared to sell yourself to get it?’

Becca was glad that she was sitting down. She felt sure that her legs would have gone from under her if she hadn’t, with the cutting force of his attack. But even though she was sitting, she still clung onto the back of the settee for extra support.

‘I didn’t—I wasn’t—I didn’t!’

‘Oh, so what are you claiming—that you didn’t have sex with me just now, in that bed…?’

An arrogant tilt of his dark head in the direction of the ceiling and so the bedroom above them emphasised his point.

‘I—you know I did.’

Did he have to keep saying ‘have sex’ in that brutal way? It reminded her too painfully of his cold-blooded declaration that he had married her for sex and nothing more.

‘So you must have wanted to use that sex to get something from me.’

‘No! No way! I never—I wouldn’t…’

‘Wouldn’t you? Well, you do surprise me. So that leaves only one other possible alternative, and I have to say that I really never thought that you’d admit to that.’

‘I’m not admitting to anything,’ Becca growled. ‘And what is the only other possible alternative?’

Andreas flashed her a wide, deceptively innocent look from huge, brilliant jet-black eyes.

‘Why, the fact that you were so overcome with need—with passion for me—that you just couldn’t help yourself. That nothing else in the world mattered but that we should come together in bed…’

‘It wasn’t that!’

‘No? Then—to go back to my original interpretation of your actions—you were using sex to get something from me.’

‘I wasn’t—no! I didn’t!’

‘Oh, please, Rebecca!’ Andreas exclaimed in exasperation. Coming to the table, he slammed his mug down on it with such force that some of the coffee slopped over the side.

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