A Perfect Wife: International Billionaires V: The Greeks (20 page)

Made him happy.

His laugh finally faded, yet his grin continued to linger. The grin that made her heart stop. She needed to pry herself away from this man before she fell at his feet in whimpering defeat. “Come on.” She marched past him. “Let’s keep looking.”

He followed her without complaint.

Color her surprised.

An hour later, she found what she was looking for.

“Are you sure?” One golden male brow rose. “I don’t think we’ve viewed every pine tree on the mountain. Not quite yet.”

The dry humor was as effective in stuttering her heart as his laugh. “I’m sure.”

“We could take another week or so to make sure this is the one.”

Teasing. He was teasing her. Astonishment wound around a kernel of hope, warm and cherished inside. Memories of her teasing cousins rushed through her, bringing her skill at bantering right back. “We’d miss Christmas. It’s only one day away.”

“True.” He leaned on the axe and stared at the huge pine. “However, we might miss it anyway. By the time I hack this giant down—”

“I’m doing some of the hacking.”

He glanced at her. “Okay, boss.”

Another of his grins. She loved his grins, though a sharp tinge of fear flashed through her whenever he gifted her with one. Every time, her heart recognized its dive, its fall, its crash.

“Go ahead, hack.” The axe landed in her hands.

Dismissing her emotional fears, she walked to the trunk and took a swing, and another. Within minutes, she understood rather quickly that cutting a tree down was not as easy as it appeared. Not easy at all. Still, she refused to admit defeat and the axe kept swinging and swinging.

“
Theós
.” The voice behind her brimmed with male superiority. “Give me the axe.”

She looked at him and back at the slight cut in the bark. She was sweating and puffing and feeling like a totally useless female. “I can do it.”

“Maybe.” Wry doubt filled his voice. “And we might make it home sometime in March.”

She glanced at him.

Home
.

The word came from his mouth with a light flip. Not a flinch in sight.

Her heart soared into the sky.

“Move over.” He snatched the axe from her hands and started to whack.

The pine came down in a few minutes, with a creak and a slam on the hard dirt of the mountain.

He breathed heavily and sweat had broken out on his forehead. Yet on him, sweat and puffing was nothing short of beauty and artistry.

Leaning on the axe, he eyed her. Abruptly, she noticed how the exercise had ruffled his hair. The honey curls, now released from his strict supervision, tumbled on his forehead, making him look adorable and as impossibly delicious as his grandmother’s cookies.

“Okay, slacker.” His mouth rose at the edge. “Your turn.”

She’d sat down to watch him hack at the trunk, figuring she might have a long wait. Instead, he’d managed to cut through the tree in half the time she’d estimated. “What do you mean?”

“I hacked. You drag.”

The tree appeared about ten times bigger on the ground than it had in the sky. “I’m going to need some help.”

“What?” His brows rose in mock surprise. “The boss needs help?”

“Shut up.” It was her turn to say the words, but he only chuckled in response.

It was a saving grace they were going downhill. With his strength and her contribution, they managed to get the tree moving. The limbs slapped her legs and the strong scent of pine enveloped her entirely. He walked on the other side of the tree, silent. A peace flowed between them, though. A peace filled with quiet energy. A sense of hope and anticipation.

Euphoria threatened to overwhelm her and she tried to distract herself by talking.

“When did you move here?” The question plopped out of her mouth without prior thought and she cringed. Distracting didn’t mean ruining the moment.

But he didn’t stop or glare or tell her to shut up. He merely answered. “I was fifteen.”

She glanced at him. His face was still serene, so she asked again. “Why?”

The stump of the tree waggled in front of her. For some reason, she couldn’t look at him. Some other kind of energy slithered into the air around them. She’d brought it upon them with her infernal questions. Her heart did the dive she’d worried about earlier, yet not for the reason she’d expected.

He answered once more. “My father threw me out of his house.”

She stopped. “What?”

He stopped, too, and turned to stare at her. His face no longer was serene, it was stoic.

“Why?” she whispered.

His mouth twisted. But it wasn’t a smile or a grin. It wasn’t wry or resigned.

Bitter. It was bitter.

She’d done this. She’d ruined the fragile peace flowing between them only minutes ago. She’d brought back memories that hurt him. “Never mind.”

His gaze was glazed with remembered horror. Some evil memory turning them black.

“Aetos.” She grabbed onto a pine branch and tugged. “Forget it. Let’s get this home to your grandparents.”

Home
.

The word was like a slap in the mountain air. His expression sharpened and cleared. “He threw me out because I’d seduced his wife.”

These words did more than slap. They cracked and cut. They landed around her like a series of bombs blasting into her heart.

“My stepmother.”

Natalie looked into his eyes. The chestnut gold was dulled by his confession. And she knew. Absolutely. “No, you didn’t.”

He jerked. His eyes widened.

“You would never do that.”

The absolute conviction in her voice seemed to penetrate his pain. He stared at her and she rejoiced as she saw the golden highlights glint once more. “You know me so well,
gynaíka mou
?”

Another memory of another time. When he’d asked the question with a sneer, with a snarl. She hadn’t known him then. He’d been nothing but a lying thief, in her opinion. A pompous ass who thought of no one except himself. She’d misjudged him, only seeing the outside, not the inner beauty.

She knew him now. Knew him right to his heart.

“Yes.” She dropped the tree and stepped around it to his side. “
Nai
. I know you very well.”

Reaching for him, she tugged his mouth to hers.

T
he
mágissa
was kissing him
. Kissing him.

Everything around him dropped away. The blue sky. The pine scent. Even the dirt beneath his feet. Aetos felt as if he soared away into a land of sweet surprise and delicious lust.

Along with absolute acceptance.

She believed him.

His father hadn’t. He’d believed Phaidra. Instead of listening to his fifteen-year-old son, his father had immediately trusted every cunning word falling from his young wife’s mouth.

Your son attacked me. Seduced me
.

Your son isn’t worthy of you
.

Your son should be banished
.

His father’s family had believed her too. She’d managed to cut him right out of his inheritance. She’d managed to turn him into a homeless orphan, a boy on the run. Yet more than anything, she’d managed to cut out his heart. Cut out his soul.

For six years, from the moment she’d entered his nine-year-old life, he’d worshiped Phaidra. Adored her as only a needy and unloved child could. He’d transferred the love he’d lost when his mother disappeared and gave it to his stepmother. In return, she’d taken his childhood away the moment she’d walked into his bedroom and told him it was time he became a man. Time he turned his love for her into a man’s love, not a child’s.

The sick, ugly thing she’d unleashed in him—as he ran from the room, as he ran from what she wanted—the sick, ugly thing had filled him where his heart and soul used to reside.

Not until this moment had he wanted either his heart or soul back.

Not until now.

The witch’s mouth moved over his and somehow, the churning anger he’d lived with for so long slid off his soul. Her sipping, sucking lips pulled all the hate from him, the sick ugliness he’d lived with for what seemed like forever, and replaced it with—

His heart.

His soul.

“
Agápi̱ mou
,” he groaned. His shaking hands ran through her moonbeam hair, tugging her into his steaming, lusting body.

She crooned and rubbed against him, wanting him.

She wanted him.

“Natalie.” He managed to pull himself away from her enthrallment. But only to make sure. To make sure she wanted him, needed him as much as he needed her.

The violet of her gaze was glazed with a lavender so lush and soft he wanted to fall into her, into her eyes, and never come out. A wisp of a smile curved her lips and he nearly fell to his knees, a helpless slave to her passion.

“Natalie,” he croaked. “You want me?”

For a hushed moment, he floated, his heart and soul light and filled with a glow of…

“No.”

The word shot through him, piercing the ragged heart and soul she’d just managed to resurrect. The violet turned dark with distaste and disgust.

He should be angry, he thought dimly. He should shout at her for tempting him again. Scream and yell at this Circe demon who’d somehow found a way to suck the sickness inside him out only to leave him hollow and lifeless.

Now there was nothing inside. Nothing except pure emptiness.

“No.” She stepped back and glanced down at the ground. “I don’t want this.”

He managed a faint chuckle. “No, no,
mágissa
. What you don’t want is me.”

N
atalie stared
into the round bathroom mirror.

She took in a deep breath.

The scarlet lace on the edge of her nightgown fluttered. The color of the lace matched the color of the silk. She’d purchased this thing in a fit of whimsy and unacknowledged hope the one time they’d gone into Thívai. The last time she’d tried to carry off a femme fatale act had been years ago with her ex-boyfriend, who’d laughed when she came out of his dinky apartment bathroom.

That had been the last moment she’d tried to become something she was not.

A shiver of anxiety slithered across her skin and her knees wobbled.

What you don’t want is me.

The memory of his harsh words and the misery in his brown eyes; the memory surged inside her, stiffening her spine and her knees. Making her decision for her.

She’d hurt him.

It was hard to believe the Natalie Globenko she’d grown to know—the one with no curves and no womanly charms—could possibly have the power to attract a man like Aetos Zenos, much less hurt him. A man who had plenty of charm when he grinned. A man who was legendary in his pursuit of gorgeous women.

A man, who, apparently, wanted her.

Natalie, you want me
?

No, she didn’t want him. Or more accurately, she didn’t want to want him. He was a mass of anger and complexity and had wounds so deep and bitter…No.

No sane woman would want a man like Aetos Zenos.

A single strand of sanity had managed to yank her from his embrace earlier today. She’d been touched to the soul by his confession, by his clear need for someone to embrace his truth and tell him he’d done nothing wrong. She hadn’t thought in those moments she’d reached for him and kissed him. All she wanted was to take him into her embrace and let him know the young boy he’d been was not at fault.

Yet at that moment, a tiny thread of warning had whispered loudly. The whisper had drowned his question in a wave of fear and doubt.

Natalie, you want me
?

The whisper had said,
he will destroy you
.

So, she’d saved herself. But by saving herself, she’d sacrificed any hope of reaching him and healing him.

He’d been silent after her rejection.

Completely cold. Completely lifeless. Completely withdrawn.

How could she blame him? She’d been throwing out such a wide range of signals, no man would be able to understand what she wanted. Hell, she couldn’t figure out what she wanted. She’d held her angst and indecision inside herself as they’d paced back to the farmhouse. Avoiding him had been easy during the dinner with his relatives. He’d been just as studiously avoiding her. After the meal, the family had gathered around the tree and proceeded to start decorating. Laughter and teasing and loving had encircled the tree like a living entity all its own. The love of family had bloomed in the room, wrapping around each individual who formed the whole.

Except for him. Except for her.

Leaning against the doorway, a glass of wine in his hand, he’d brooded.

Sitting between his
giagiá
and
pappoús
on the sofa, she’d yearned.

Nat stared into the bathroom mirror at two worried blue eyes and sighed.

She wasn’t sane. She wasn’t thinking clearly. She knew that.

An emotion bigger than thoughts and decisions welled deep inside her. She knew what it was, this emotion running deeper and stronger than any mental calculation. There wasn’t one argument her brain could shout loud enough to overcome this emotion. The emotion she’d been rejecting for weeks.

Love.

She’d fallen in love with Aetos Zenos.

Not the kind of silly love she’d imagined as a kid. The kind of love where your Prince Charming showed up and you lived happily-ever-after. The kind of love she’d stopped believing in when she’d found out the truth about her father. And not the kind of stoic love she’d given since that time. Thinking love was a duty. Covering for her irresponsible father, taking care of her ailing mother, helping to raise her sullen brother.

Neither described what she felt at this moment.

Loving Aetos wasn’t bliss. Loving Aetos wasn’t duty.

Loving him was giving. Giving her everything to another. Giving away her own selfish fears and hopes and replacing them with his hopes, soothing his fears. Giving everything with only the desire to make him whole with her love.

She was going to let him sweep her away.

An ocean of tears filled her throat.

She was absolutely sure of what she was being swept away into. It wasn’t going to be a pretty ending for her. Aetos Zenos and Natalie Globenko weren’t meant to live happily-ever-after. Not by the longest shot an Olympic athlete could ever throw a javelin.

She knew, with absolute certainty; he was essentially honorable.

She knew, with absolute certainty; he’d no longer hated her and didn’t really intend to hurt her.

But he would.

Exactly as he hurt his family, he would eventually hurt her.

Nat swept a shaking hand through her hair. She’d left it loose. The curls swung around her shoulders, clung to the lace, slid down her bare back. She’d remembered how he’d twisted her curls around his fingers when he’d kissed her, kissed her like she was everything to him.

She wasn’t everything to him. She couldn’t be.

Still, no matter how much pain there was in her future, she had no choice. She would give him her hair, her body, the body of no curves and no charm, the body he inexplicably wanted. She would give him herself, her heart and everything she had. All so that for a few moments, for a few hours, he would be whole, he would have everything he needed right now.

This was the only thing she could do.

Because she loved him.

Before she twisted her thoughts any further, she reached for the door and stepped into the tiny hall. The farmhouse was dark, the relatives back in their respective homes, the grandparents cozily tucked into their bed. The wooden floor beneath her feet was cool, chilled by the mountain air whispering through the old house. In contrast, her breath felt hot in her throat, burning her tongue and mouth with an acidic tang. The bedroom door lay half open and the light of the fire’s dancing flames shone on the wool of the rug, the end of the bed.

She forced herself to take the last steps into the room. Into his sight.

He was wearing his customary cotton T-shirt. The blue-and-green quilt fell to his hips and he was propped up on both of their pillows, reading.

Poetry.

She must have made some sound, some tender puff of air. He glanced over to see her standing in the doorway. His body tensed; his expression went rigid. Blunt male fingers tightened around the book.

Natalie stood still, trying desperately for a smile.

“What the hell are you doing?” His harsh words froze the beginning smile off her face.

In one quick second, a fierce wave of pure anger rushed through her. How dare he reject this sacrifice she was willing to give him? How dare he act in his usual rude, impatient manner when she was offering her heart and her body? “I’m seducing you. What the hell does it look like?”

He blinked. The gold of his lashes lay on his olive skin for a moment and the contrast lit a burn of pure desire in the depths of her stomach. The pure lust mixed with the pure anger to combust like a bomb inside her. Slamming the door behind her, she marched to the bed and ripped the book from his fingers.

She slammed the book on the stone ledge above his head.

Next, she slammed her body down on his.

All his muscles went taut under the covers lying between them. Her nose pressed on the skin of his neck and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

What was she supposed to do now? She hadn’t thought about anything other than getting ready and getting into the bedroom. She should have done some slinky move or slid the nightgown off her body.

But she couldn’t have undressed in front of him. She didn’t have that amount of courage.

The movement came first on her belly. The gentle rumble made his stomach tighten. Then, she felt it rise to his chest, the breath whisking into his lungs and up to his mouth. The laughter rolled from him, the heave of his body pushed against her breasts.

The flush of embarrassment rose from her gut to her throat and she knew for certain her entire face resembled nothing short of the bright-red tomatoes his grandmother served at every meal.

Why she ever thought she could seduce this man was beyond her.

But what could she do? Stand up and show him her reddened cheeks? Stumble back to the bathroom and the safety of her flannel nightie?

Straightening her arms, pushing on the bed, she glared into his laughter. His eyes danced with gold and his teeth gleamed white in the firelight. The lamp by the bed shone on his olive skin and glistened in the blond shadow of hair on his jaw. “Shut up.”

The laugh came harder, as his arms surrounded her, tugging her back from her try at escaping his ridicule. “No, no,
mágissa
. I’m not going to let you boss me around this time.”

“What are you calling me?” She tugged once more with no success and finally gave in, tucking her head into the notch between his shoulder and neck. What else could she do? She didn’t want to leave; she didn’t want to stay. She didn’t want him and yet she loved him.

He ignored her question and slowly, the rumble of his humor subsided. The crackle of the fire warmed and his arms felt right around her, holding her to him. She didn’t think she imagined a soft kiss on the top of her hair. And she didn’t dream of the slight massaging motion of his fingers on her back. His touch was real.

His hips pressed up. And then, again.

There could be no imagining or dreaming about what punched into her stomach.

“Hmm.” She nuzzled his pine-scented skin, embarrassment and anxiety slowly slipping away.

He chuckled. “It appears you are seducing me, exactly as you wanted.”

His admission gave her enough courage to look at him again. The chestnut eyes stared back into hers, the light of humor continuing to sparkle in them. His mouth curved at one side in a slight smile, giving him the charm of a fallen god.

“Do you want to?” she said in a hushed tone, wanting to make sure, needing to make sure.

His mouth’s curve turned down and a wary light appeared in the depths of brown. “I don’t think it’s ever been an issue about what I want. It’s always been about what you want.”

The hard length pressing against her confirmed his confession. Now the flush on her skin wasn’t embarrassment, it was a joy-filled knowing.

Aetos Zenos did want her. Natalie Globenko.

Astonishment held her in its grip for a moment. She’d thought when they’d kissed. She’d hoped when she noticed the heat in his gaze. She’d dreamed when she slid the silk nightie on and made her decision. Still, the confirmation gripped her hard and fast.