confusion, then his eyes widened and his jaw slackened for a split second before he reasserted supreme control.
Any fleeting pleasure I’d felt at gaining some unknown upper hand fled as heat suffused my face at his intense, almost shocked scrutiny.
Admitting that I should have left the make-up artist’s work alone didn’t help my urge to squirm under his candid regard. But I forced myself to hold his gaze, ignore the consternation in his eyes and the humiliating thud of my heartbeat.
Just when I thought he intended to drag the torture out for ever he slid one finger beneath my chin to nudge my head upward. Caught in the mysterious hypnosis of his gaze, I watched his head descend, so close that heat from his skin singed mine.
I braced myself, my stomach churning with emotions I couldn’t name.
I’d been kissed before. Those university colleagues I’d toyed with before my father’s bitter reach had scared them away. None of them had elicited this level of shivery anticipation.
His kiss arrived, subtle as a butterfly’s wing and powerful as a sledgehammer. Sensation rocked through me like an earthquake, dizzying and terrifying, leaving me with nothing to do but to brace my hands on his chest, anchor myself to reality somehow.
But all that did was compound my situation. Because the solid wall of his chest was like sculpted warm steel, inviting the kind of exploration that had no place in this time and space.
Pull away.
Before I could, he gave a sharp intake of breath. In the next moment I was free of him and he was turning away.
Back to earth with a shaky thud, I fought angry bewilderment even as I strove for composure before our three-hundred-strong audience.
The feeling lingered all through our walk down the aisle, through our stiff poses for pictures and then the ride back up the hill to the crumbling mansion overlooking the harbour—the only home I’d ever known.
The horse and carriage had been swapped for a sleek limousine with darkened windows and a partition that ensured privacy. Beside me Axios maintained a stony silence, one I wasn’t inclined to break despite the dark, enigmatic looks he slanted me every now and then.
When it all became too much, I snatched in a breath and faced him. ‘Is there something on your mind?’
One eyebrow quirked. ‘As conversations go, that’s not quite what I expected as our first. But then I’m making many surprising discoveries.’
He wasn’t the only one! ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
He didn’t reply immediately. Then, ‘You’re not what I was led to expect.’
I couldn’t help my lips twisting. ‘You are aware of how absurd that sounds, aren’t you?’
He stiffened, and I got the notion that once again something about me had surprised him. ‘No. Enlighten me,’ he replied dryly.
‘Not what you were led to expect?’ The slight screech in my voice warned me that hysteria might be winning but I couldn’t stop. ‘Let me guess—you thought you were getting some biddable wallflower who would tremble and trip over herself to please you?’
You were trembling minutes ago, when he kissed you.
I ignored the voice and met his gaze.
He’d turned into a pillar of stone. ‘Considering the ink isn’t dry on our marriage certificate, perhaps we should strive not to have our first disagreement. Unless you wish to break some sort of record?’ he rasped, gunmetal eyes boring into me.
Apart from our marriage, I still didn’t know the precise details of the deal between my father and my new husband and it momentarily stalled my response. But the fire burning inside me wouldn’t be doused.
‘I get the feeling you’re just as…invested in this thing as my father is, so it bears repeating that you’re not getting a simpering lackey who will jump through hoops to amuse you.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Your father? Not you?’
Short of revealing my ignorance on the matter, I had to prevaricate. ‘I’m a Petras—same as he.’
Something that looked very much like contempt flickered through his eyes. ‘Consider me forewarned,’ he replied cryptically.
Before I could query what he meant the limo was pulling up to the double doors of my family home. Liveried footmen hurried to throw our doors open.
Inside the rarely used but hastily refurbished ballroom guests drank champagne and feasted on canapés and my father gave a painfully false speech. I only managed to sit through it by reaching into my pocket and clutching the envelope within.
The moment the speeches were done Axios was swarmed upon by fawning acquaintances, eager to engage the great man in conversation. I told myself that my primary emotion was relief as the stylists, also roped into acting as my attendants, rushed to straighten my veil and train, twitching and tweaking until they were satisfied that I’d been restored to their vision of bridal beauty.
But just when I thought I’d have a moment’s reprieve Axios’s gaze zeroed in on me, his eyes falling to the barely touched food on the plate that lay next to my untouched glass of champagne.
One brow rose. ‘Not in the mood for celebrating? Or are you trying to make some sort of point by not eating?’
I couldn’t eat—not when the inkling was deepening that Axios Xenakis was far from a willing participant in this devilish deal. And if that was the case, what had I let myself in for?
I pushed the anxious thought away and let my gaze fall on his equally full plate. ‘You should talk.’
He lifted his champagne and took a healthy gulp. ‘Unlike you, this occasion isn’t one I feel inclined to celebrate.’
My breath caught, but before I could ask him to elaborate, he continued.
‘And in the interest of clarity let me warn you that neither you nor your father have any cards left to play. Should you feel inclined to make more demands.’
Christos, what exactly had my father done?
But even as the question burned fire boiled in my blood. ‘Are you threatening my family? Because if you are, please know that I will fight you with everything I’ve got.’
His lips twisted at my fierce tone. ‘What a fiery temper you have. I wonder what other surprises you’re hiding beneath those unfortunate layers of… What is that material?’
As much as I hated my wedding dress, his remark sparked irritation. ‘It’s called tulle. And you should know. You paid for it, after all.’
The barest hint of a sardonic smile lifted his sensual lips. ‘Writing a cheque for it doesn’t mean I pay attention to every single detail of a woman’s wardrobe. I have better things to do than concern myself with the name of the fabric that comprises a wedding gown.’
‘But this is your wedding too,’
