Marriage Of Convenience: The Andreou Marriage Arrangement / The Replacement Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN

lifted her hand and brushed his lips to her sensitive palm.

      For a brief moment the room and everyone in it faded as her eyes locked with his, and the air between them seemed filled with electric tension.

      Then he smiled, and curled her hand within his own. ‘Fortunately, she did.’

      Oh, my…what was that?

      Playing the part, a tiny imp taunted. And he does it so well.

      ‘Pity,’ the blonde voiced with seeming regret. ‘We could have had fun.’ With a pretty wave of her hand the blonde turned and melted into the crowd.

      ‘You can let go now,’ Alesha managed quietly, attempting to pull free without success, for he merely threaded his fingers through her own. She kept her voice light and a smile in place. ‘Must you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      He glimpsed sudden pain darken her eyes, then it was gone.

      It was perhaps as well the ballroom doors opened and the assembled guests converged towards the three main entry points.

      Their table held prominent position, and the usual speeches included gratitude for previous funding together with a plea for the guests’ continuing generosity.

      The drinks flowed, entertainment was provided between each of the three dinner courses, and it wasn’t until coffee was served that there was the opportunity for any lengthy conversation.

      A DJ set discs spinning at one end of the ballroom and provided a mix of music. A time of the evening when some of the older guests began to leave, and the younger set filled the adjoining floor-space.

      ‘Shall we?’

      Dance? With him?

      She had, on a few occasions in the past. Way past, when her life had been uncomplicated and she’d viewed the future as a journey of discovery.

      Following her separation from Seth, the only male she’d chosen to dance with had been her father…occasions when she’d felt protected, safe.

      Loukas and safe didn’t equate.

      In the name of heaven, get a grip. She was in a room filled with people, and she was being too ridiculous for words.

      ‘Sure, why not?’ she managed simply.

      Except being held by him was far from simple. Even in killer heels she was conscious of his height, his restrained strength and his sexual energy.

      One hand lingered at the base of her spine, and she barely controlled a faint shivery sensation as his thumb brushed a gentle pattern over the delicate bones.

      If he sought to soothe, the caress had the opposite effect, and she dug her lacquered nails into his hand in a silent plea to desist.

      A fruitless exercise as he drew her close, splaying the hand at her spine to hold her there.

      Worse, the DJ selected a slow, seductive number and the lights dimmed low, providing a level of intimacy that made her want to pull away from him.

      She tried, without success, and everything within her coalesced and became one highly sensitized ache. It made her want something she’d thought she once held in her grasp…only to be cheated as her emotional dreams were smashed into a thousand pieces.

      Please, she silently begged. I can’t do this.

      I want my life back…the one I carefully rebuilt for myself. No emotional ties, no room for disappointment and heartache.

      ‘I think we’ve managed a sufficiently convincing display,’ Alesha offered evenly, and wondered if Loukas had any idea of the effort it had cost her not to tear herself away from him.

      ‘You’ve had enough?’

      Enough of what? Being held intimately close to him? Playing pretend? Why not go for broke and include both, with emphasis on the former?

      He sounded mildly amused, and she deliberately stood on his foot.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said sweetly.

      ‘No, you’re not.’ He eased her to the edge of the dance floor, then began leading the way to their table.

      The ‘goodnight’ thing took a while, and it was a relief to leave the ballroom and descend the stairs to the hotel foyer.

      The concierge summoned their car, and within minutes the Aston Martin appeared in the forecourt.

      Alesha slid into the passenger seat, fastened the seat belt, then she eased her head against the cushioned rest and closed her eyes.

      Home, bed. And, mercifully, a restful sleep.

      Except home was no longer her apartment, and it was late, which meant Loukas probably was unlikely to run an electronic check of the world markets before heading for bed.

      ‘Headache?’

      Her eyelids lifted and she turned towards him. It would be so easy to say yes, and she almost did. Except honesty had her shaking her head.

      The night cast the car’s interior with a shadowy light, throwing his profile into stark angles.

      He was something else. Sophisticated, powerful…yet beneath that persona lurked a man she found difficult to fathom. Content, apparently, to enter a loveless marriage and sire progeny sans emotional involvement.

      What was it with that?

      She knew all the issues. Hadn’t she agreed to them? Although agree didn’t enter the equation. Choice had weighed heavily against her.

      A situation that pushed her to the edge and kept her there.

      ‘You handled the evening well.’

      His silky drawl curled round her nerve-ends and pulled them to breaking point.

      ‘While you excelled.’

      ‘A compliment?’

      She looked at him carefully. ‘Of course. What else?’

      ‘I doubt your foot’s deliberate aim was accidental.’

      ‘Really?’ Alesha managed sweetly.

      Loukas smiled. She was a refreshing change from the women who formed part of his business and social entourage. Women who knew how to please and were forthcoming in offering to share his bed.

      Easy pickings, he reflected without shame. Aware few, if any, had any thought beyond the advantages of his wealth, the gifts, the travel, the media attention his presence gained.

      It was after midnight when he garaged the car and reset the security system.

      Alesha made for the staircase, reaching their suite ahead of him, and she slipped off her heels, removed her ear-studs and reached for the clasp holding her pendant in place.

      Stiff, it still refused to release, and she muttered an unladylike oath beneath her breath.

      ‘Let me.’

      She hadn’t heard him enter the room, and she held her breath as his fingers brushed her nape. Within seconds he freed the recalcitrant clasp and dropped the pendant into her palm.

      ‘Thanks.’

      His eyes were dark, slumbrous, as he laid a finger beneath her chin and tilted it. ‘So…thank me.’

      The wayward pulse at the base of her throat began its rapid thudding beat, and her eyes flared as he lowered his head down to hers.

      ‘Don’t—’

      Whatever else she meant to utter didn’t find voice as his mouth took hers in a kiss that grazed her lips with sensual promise, warm, caressing with deliberate intent as he sought her response.

      One hand shifted to cup her nape while the other slid to the base of her spine and he drew her in against him.