eyes softened. ‘Because I had just realised how much I still loved you. I felt so vulnerable, and I thought you were still punishing me for Milo.’
Rafaele groaned. ‘I was angry, but it was because you were under my skin again and I didn’t want you there. You brought up too many feelings, made me feel out of control...so I needed to control you.’
A wicked glint came into Sam’s eyes. ‘We can call it quits if you let me tie you up next time.’
Sam felt Rafaele’s body jerk underneath hers.
He quirked a brow at her. ‘Bridie has Milo...’
Needing no further encouragement, Sam scrambled inelegantly off Rafaele’s lap and stood up. She looked down at him and held out a hand. Rafaele felt his heart squeeze so much that it hurt. The symbolism of the moment was huge as he put his hand in Sam’s to let her help him up, but just before he came up all the way, he stopped on one knee.
‘Wait...there’s one more thing.’
Rafaele’s heart beat fast at the way Sam bit her lip. He gripped her hand like a lifeline and with his other hand pulled out the small but precious cargo from his pocket.
He held up the vintage diamond ring and looked at her. ‘Samantha, will you marry me? Because I love you more than life itself—you and Milo.’
She looked at the ring and her eyes glittered again with the onset of fresh tears. ‘It’s beautiful...’
He could see the final struggle in her face, the fear of believing that this was real...but then she smiled and it bathed him in a warmth he’d never known before.
‘Yes, I’ll marry you, Rafaele.’
She held out her hand and it trembled.
With a none too steady hand himself, Rafaele pushed the sparkling ring onto her finger. And then, with his other hand still in her firm grip, she pulled him up out of the painful past and into a brighter future.
A month later...
Sam took a deep breath and started her walk down the aisle of the small church in the grounds of Rafaele’s Milan palazzo. Umberto was giving her away and he wasn’t even using his cane. He was walking taller and stronger almost every day...especially on the days when Bridie was around...
Milo walked ahead of them in a suit, throwing rose petals with chaotic random abandon. He’d look back every now and then with a huge smile and Sam would have to prompt him to keep going. The small church was filled with people, but Sam was oblivious. She saw only the tall figure of the man waiting for her at the top of the aisle. And then he turned around, as if unable to help himself, and he smiled. Sam smiled back.
Umberto handed her over with due deference and then Rafaele was claiming her, pulling her into him. The priest’s words washed over and through Sam. She would never have said she was a religious person, but something in the ritual seemed to complete the process she and Rafaele had embarked on a month before, cleansing away any vague residual painful pieces of the past.
There was only now and the future, and the heavy weight of the wedding band on her finger, and Rafaele bending to kiss her with such a look of reverence on his face that she could have wept. In fact she did weep, and he wiped her tears away with his fingers.
Later, as they danced at their reception, which had been set up in a marquee in the grounds of the palazzo, Rafaele said, ‘Have I told you yet how beautiful you look?’
Sam smiled. ‘About a hundred times, but I don’t mind.’
And Sam felt beautiful, truly, for the first time in her life. Even though her dress was simple and her hair hadn’t been styled by a professional and she’d done her own make-up. She felt confident, and sexy, and most importantly loved.
Milo appeared at their feet and Rafaele lifted him up and that was how they finished their wedding dance—in a circle of love, the three of them.
Over in a corner of the marquee stood Alexio Christakos, Rafaele’s half-brother. He’d been best man, done his duty and given his speech, made everyone laugh. Made the women giggle and look at him covetously. Even now they surrounded him, waiting for their moment to strike, for the slightest gesture of encouragement.
Alexio grimaced. He was starting to feel claustrophobic. Hell. Who was he kidding? He’d been feeling claustrophobic on his brother’s behalf ever since Rafaele had told him that he was getting married and had a son!
He shook his head again and grimaced when he saw Rafaele kiss his bride for the umpteenth time. Alexio looked at her. He guessed she was pretty enough, in a subtle and unassuming way, but he couldn’t see how she made Rafaele turn almost feral whenever another man came close. Even Alexio had been sent none too subtle hands-off signals from the moment he’d met her.
Alexio wondered how it was possible that Rafaele couldn’t see that she must be marrying him only for his security and wealth. Had he become so duped by good sex that he’d forgotten one of the most important lessons they’d learnt from their dear departed mother? That a woman’s main aim in life was to feather her nest and seek the security of a rich man?
Alexio mentally saluted his brother and wished him well. He told himself he’d try not to say I told you so when it all fell apart. Mind you, he had to concede the kid was cute. His nephew. He’d actually had quite an entertaining time with him earlier, when he’d looked after him for a bit between the wedding and the reception. Still... He shuddered lightly. He had no intention of embarking on that path any time soon, if ever...
Alexio stopped focusing on his brother and his new wife and son for a minute and took in the crowd around him. From nearby, a gorgeous brunette caught his eye. She was tall and lissom, with curves in all the right places. She looked at him with sexy confidence and smiled the smile of a practised seductress.
Alexio felt his body stir, his blood move southwards. It wasn’t the most compelling spark of attraction he’d ever felt...but when was the last time that had happened...? Alexio ignored that voice and smiled back. When he saw the light of triumph in her eyes at catching the attention of the most eligible bachelor in the room, Alexio forced down the feeling of emptiness inside him and moved towards her.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from SECURING THE GREEK’S LEGACY by Julia James.
CHAPTER ONE
ANATOLE TELONIDIS STARED bleakly across the large, expensively furnished lounge of the penthouse apartment in the most fashionable part of Athens. It was still as untidy as it had been when his young cousin Marcos Petranakos had last walked out of it a few short nightmare weeks ago, straight to his death.
When their mutual grandfather, Timon Petranakos, had phoned his older grandson he had been distraught. ‘Anatole, he’s dead! Marcos, my beloved Marcos—he’s dead!’ the old man had cried out.
Smashed to pieces at twenty-five, driving far too fast in the lethal supercar that had been Timon’s own present to Marcos, given in the wake of their grandfather’s recent diagnosis with cancer.
The death of his favourite grandson, whom he had spoiled lavishly since Marcos had lost his parents as a teenager, had been a devastating blow. Timon had since refused all treatment for his
