wind grabbed at her veil and Kassiani gripped the edge of her seat with one hand and tried to control her heavy veil with the other. From the water she could see the estate and villa. The estate was large, and one of the oldest on this part of the Athenian coast. The villa had been built facing the water, ensuring every room a sweeping view of the turquoise sea and the Temple of Poseidon on the hill across the water.
From their vantage point in the water, the garden glowed with soft golden white light, with fairy lights strung in trees, and candelabras glimmering on the two dozen tables, while chandeliers inside the house emphasized the high ceilings and striking architecture. From here, the wedding reception looked downright magical, and Kassiani felt a pang of regret—this wasn’t the wedding the guests had come for.
She tried to imagine their reaction when they discovered that the bride and groom were gone. She wondered how the evening would even go. Would anyone stay for the dinner once they realized there was no bride and groom? Or would others linger and dine and drink and take advantage of the splendid setting? She couldn’t help thinking that there would be some who were grateful there would be no toasts, no speeches, no protracted dinner courses. And she was certain there were others, those who truly loved Damen, who would be confused, and worried.
The wedding really turned out to be a shambles.
What had Damen called it? A farce? A charade?
She felt a twinge of guilt followed by fresh anxiety. This was all so crazy, she hadn’t really wrapped her head around anything that had taken place today. And now they were jetting off, but she had no idea where they were going. But as the cape fell farther behind, the boat suddenly slowed, drawing close to an enormous yacht in the bay, and then the engine turned off as they reached the yacht ladder at the back. Crew stood on a small platform awaiting them.
“Let’s get your shoes off,” Damen said. “I’d rather you not try to climb the stairs in those ridiculous shoes. How high are those heels anyway?”
“Too high,” she admitted, grateful to remove the shoes that had pinched her feet all afternoon.
Once they were off, Damen swung Kassiani into his arms and lifted her out, placing her on the platform. “Can you manage the stairs in that dress?” he asked.
“What are my options? Removing the dress here?” she answered.
He growled. “No.”
She almost laughed. “Then yes, I can manage the stairs in this dress.”
* * *
Her father’s yacht had been built for her mother. And her father had never understood her mother’s taste, and so the yacht had been over-the-top feminine with cream walls and gilded surfaces, floral tapestries and upholstery with horrendous columns everywhere to make the interior look like a Greek temple. Kassiani had found the superyacht garish and unappealing and she’d hated the few times her parents—she never knew which—decided they must all do a Mediterranean cruise together, trapping them on the yacht. She’d hated yachts and boats ever since, and held her breath as she was led up and down staircases and then down a narrow paneled hall toward bedrooms.
She wasn’t sure if she was being taken to a master bedroom or just any bedroom, but when the uniformed staff opened a door and stepped back for her to enter, she was fairly certain it was the master bedroom by the fact that half the room was all floor-to-ceiling walls and glass doors with a private deck and a jaw-dropping view of the Temple of Poseidon, which had now been lit for the night and the dozens of majestic columns glowed yellow. The ancient ruins were beyond beautiful and she was drawn to the view, opening one set of the French doors to step out onto the deck.
And then on the opposite side of the bay, a villa and its grand gardens glimmered with light, competing for attention. Damen’s villa.
For the first time since arriving in Greece, she felt the pull of Greece. Or maybe it was the stirring of her own Greek blood, recognizing that she’d come home. Her chest suddenly ached and she put a hand to her breast, pressing against the pain, overwhelmed by emotion.
What had she done?
“Second thoughts?” Damen’s deep voice sounded behind her.
She turned suddenly, and struggled to smile but failed. “I don’t know that I’d call them second thoughts, but certainly, this view gives me pause.” Her head tipped as she studied him. “And you? Buyer’s remorse?”
“You’re a woman, not livestock. I haven’t bought you.”
“But I’m not the woman you wanted.”
He didn’t even hesitate. “No.”
“I don’t blame you for being disappointed. Elexis is stunning.”
“She looks like your mother.”
Kassiani stifled the pain. “And I take after Dad.” She was grateful her voice sounded light, and breezy. She’d never want him to know how much it hurt being the Dukas her father called “pitiful.”
“I didn’t choose Elexis for her beauty.”
Kassiani smiled politely. She didn’t believe him for a moment. “Either way, I suppose it’s a moot point now, isn’t it?”
He looked from her to the Cape of Sounio, glowing gold with its famous marble temple built in 440 BC. It was remarkable that so much of the ancient temple remained.
“Did she ever intend to marry me?” he asked quietly.
Yes. No. Kass drew a deep breath. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Elexis is a bit of an enigma.”
“So there is more than what the eye sees?”
“No. The enigma is that she is just what you see. Beautiful.”
His gaze narrowed and then he gave a half shrug. “It’s been hours since breakfast. You must be starving—”
“Do I look as if I’m starving?” she interrupted with a faint smile.
He gave her another assessing glance. “I’ll have a tray sent to you.”
“Are you not eating?”
“I have things to take care of.”
He didn’t want to dine with her. Even though it was their wedding night. It shouldn’t bother her. She shouldn’t be attached to the outcome. She was here, the substitute bride, out of obligation, not affection. He was the humiliated groom. She shouldn’t be surprised that he wanted to keep his distance. “A tray would be lovely.” She nodded toward the glowing point. “Could I eat out here?”
“I’ll have my steward set up a table.”
She started to thank him but he was already walking out, and she watched him go, a lump filling her throat. This was not going to be easy.
* * *
Damen’s office on the second deck was similar to his bedroom—a wall of windows, another wall of bookshelves and then large art pieces here and there. His oversize desk faced out, because he always preferred working with a view of the water. His
