The Greek's Convenient Wife. Melanie Milburne

      ‘Think of it as my insurance policy,’ he said. ‘I’ll let your brother off the hook if and when I feel you’ve done what is required.’

      ‘Am I to be allowed to contact him?’

      ‘I can hardly stop you,’ he said. ‘Besides, you’ll have to tell him of our impending marriage for no doubt he’ll read about it in the papers.’

      ‘How am I going to explain our sudden marriage to him?’

      ‘You’re a woman. Think of a suitable lie to put him off the scent.’

      ‘Your view of my gender positively reeks of misogyny.’

      ‘No doubt it does, but then in my thirty-four years I have yet to meet a woman who doesn’t run true to form.’

      A small frown settled between her brows at his words. She wondered if somewhere along the line he’d been hurt by a woman, perhaps one who had got the upper hand with him and rubbed his nose in it.

      ‘I’ll arrange for some legal papers to be sent to you for your perusal,’ he said, cutting across her thoughts. ‘As for wedding finery, I’ll organise a credit card for you; it should be available in three or four days.’

      ‘I’m to be a real bride?’ She stared at him in alarm.

      ‘What’s wrong? Do you have a thing about wearing white?’

      ‘No.’ If only he knew the irony of his words, she thought. ‘I just didn’t expect you to want to go to so much trouble over a temporary arrangement.’

      ‘It’s only temporary to us,’ he pointed out. ‘To everyone else this must be presented as a match made in heaven. If we have some hole-and-corner ceremony it won’t look good enough to believe. Besides, everyone knows how Greek men pride themselves on scoring a virginal bride.’

      Hot colour suffused her cheeks.

      ‘I hope being a virgin isn’t part of your stipulations?’

      ‘I’m not so stupid as to imagine you’ve got to the age you are without experiencing sex first hand. I take it I’m right?’

      ‘Of course,’ she lied.

      ‘That’s all for now.’ He got to his feet, effectively dismissing her. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

      ‘Is that all?’

      ‘Was there something else?’ He glanced at his watch before meeting her incensed gaze across the desk.

      ‘No.’ She snapped her mouth over the single word and snatched up her bag from the floor.

      She was at the door with her hand on the knob when his voice halted her.

      ‘I wouldn’t advise any last minute countermoves. Remember I’m watching you.’

      ‘How could I forget?’ she tossed back at him before closing the door behind her.

      She was halfway down the corridor when a heady cloying perfume began to assault her nostrils. She looked up to see an exotic-looking dark-haired woman sashaying past her towards Demetrius’s office, her clinging black dress outlining her very generous curves.

      ‘Is Demetrius free now?’ the woman asked in a kittenish tone which sickened Maddison to her stomach.

      Some spark of residual defiance made Maddison adopt an equally provocative pose as she faced his latest conquest.

      ‘I hope I haven’t worn him out too much for you,’ she purred suggestively. ‘He’s quite something when he’s all fired up.’

      The woman’s dark brows snapped together irritably. ‘That low-down bastard’s been having it off with you?’ she shrieked.

      Maddison smoothed down her skirt before straightening her crumpled blouse.

      ‘He’s insatiable, but then I expect you already know that.’ She batted her eyelashes and then, leaning towards the spitting other woman, murmured conspiratorially, ‘I’ve heard a rumour he’s getting married. I’d be careful if I were you—jealous wives are the pits, aren’t they?’

      The woman’s eyes narrowed in anger and she spun away to click-clack down the hall towards Demetrius’s office on heels that Maddison was sure were going to end up in his back at some point if the woman’s expression was anything to go by.

      She smiled a little cat’s smile and continued on her way towards the exit. It felt good to have the upper hand just for once, and she was going to enjoy every single delicious minute.

      On Wednesday morning a courier arrived at her apartment with a sheaf of papers and an envelope containing a credit card with her name on it.

      She sat on her old sofa and went over the papers in detail. They were fairly straightforward, citing the date and time of their intended marriage and the conditions were laid out in simple terms. By signing, she was immediately relinquishing any financial rights normally afforded a marital partner on the dissolution of their marriage. She signed it with considerable relish; she didn’t want his stinking money anyway.

      She wasn’t sure what to do about the credit card however. She had no savings left after Kyle’s airfare and traffic infringement, and although Hugo had given her severance pay she still had to finalise the electricity and phone bills before the end of the week, but even so she felt distinctly uncomfortable spending Demetrius’s money. In the end she decided to mail it back to him, not even bothering to write a covering note to accompany it.

      As much as it galled her to have to do so she knew she couldn’t leave it too many more days without contacting him. She had one or two questions to ask regarding their living arrangements once they were married; somehow she didn’t think he’d agree to move into her tiny apartment with the peeling paint and constantly flickering light bulbs.

      He wasn’t available to speak to her when she called his office, which instantly annoyed her. She didn’t want to wait around holding her breath for him to return her calls, but neither did she want to be left in a state of indecision and uncertainty over whatever arrangements he’d made.

      Her hand hovered over the telephone later that evening as she fought with herself over whether to call his private number or not. Before her finger had pressed the first digit, however, the doorbell of her apartment pealed and she put the handset down with a clatter as she got to her feet to answer it.

      Demetrius was standing there with a small smile lurking about the corners of his mouth. ‘Hello, Maddison.’ His dark eyes swept over her fluffy tracksuit before returning to her face. ‘Pleased to see me?’

      She stepped aside for him to come in.

      ‘So nice of you to return my calls in person,’ she said. ‘I’m surprised you can afford the time. Haven’t you got a hot date tonight?’

      ‘I wonder you can ask that,’ he said with a tiny glimmer of amusement in his eyes. ‘Especially when you deliberately sabotaged my relationship with Elena Tsoulis.’

      ‘If she was so easily put off by me you’re definitely underselling yourself,’ she returned.

      ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ He shrugged himself out of his suit jacket and hung it over the back of the sofa. ‘She was close to her use by date anyway.’

      She inwardly seethed at his callous attitude.

      He turned to face her, his hand going to his tie to loosen it. ‘What did you want to see me about?’

      ‘I want to know what to do about my apartment.’

      He swept the room with an ironic glance. ‘You call this an apartment?’

      ‘No,’ she said, stung by his disdain. ‘I call it home.’

      ‘Well then, to borrow your own words, you’re definitely underselling yourself.’

      ‘It’s