He was the poster boy for pick-up sex. He moved from relationship to relationship faster than a driver late for an important appointment changed lanes. What had brought about this sudden desire to play family man? He was only thirty-four—three years older than her. Or was it his way of twisting her arm? The arm that was attached to her hormone-charged body that strangely—since that night six months ago in London—kept reminding her every time she had a period she was over thirty and childless. ‘I don’t know where you got the idea I would agree to this farcical plan. Did my father suggest it?’
‘No, it was entirely my idea.’
His idea? Allegra frowned. ‘But you don’t even like me.’
He came and stood in front of her, his superior height making her feel like a child’s rocking horse standing up to a Clydesdale stallion. He didn’t touch her but she could feel the magnetic pull of his body making every cell in hers gravitate towards him. She raised her eyes to his, momentarily losing herself in those bottomless pools of black with their fringe of thick lashes.
Why did he have to be so wickedly attractive? Why did her hormones jump up and down in ecstatic glee when he was close? Her gaze went to his mouth, drinking in the way his lips were both firm yet sensually supple, the lower one generous, the top one slimmer, but not enough to be considered cruel. It was a mouth always on the verge of a smile, as if he found life amusing rather than sad. Had she ever seen a more kissable male mouth?
‘We could be good together, agape mou. Very good.’
Allegra suppressed the shiver his provocative words evoked. His voice was deep and mellifluous and his Greek accent—so much stronger than the faint trace of it in her voice—never failed to make her skin prickle in delight.
He always spoke English to her because she had let her Greek slip after living so long in England. She understood it more than she could speak it but she could hardly describe herself as fluent. She had always spoken English to her Yorkshire-born mother and she suspected her neglect of her father’s language was a subconscious way to punish him for not being the father she longed for. ‘Look, Draco, this has to stop. All this talk of a marriage between us is pointless. I’m not—’
He took one of her hands and enfolded it in the cage of his. His fingers were warm and dry, the tensile strength in them making something in her stomach drop like a book falling from a shelf. Make that a dozen legal textbooks. Who knew her hand was so sensitive? It was as if every nerve was on the outside of her skin, tingling, making her aware of every pore of his. ‘Why are you so frightened of getting close to me?’
Allegra had to swallow a couple of times to find her voice. ‘I—I’m not frightened of you.’ I’m frightened of me. Of how you make me feel.
His thumb began a slow stroke of the fleshy base of hers. It was as light as a sable brush on a priceless canvas but it triggered an explosion of sensations that ricocheted through her body. Her heart picked up its pace as though she’d been given a shot of adrenalin with a crack chaser. Her brain was scrambled by his closeness, her resolve to keep her distance gone missing without leave.
His eyes searched hers for a long, pulsing moment. It was as if he was committing every one of her features to memory: the shape of her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her mouth and the tiny beauty spot just above the right side of her top lip.
Allegra licked her lips, then realised what a blatant giveaway that was—the primary signal of attraction. It was as if her body was acting of its own accord. Her will, her determination to resist him, was overridden by a primal need to touch him, to have him touch her. To have him kiss her until she forgot about everything but how those firm, male lips felt on hers.
What are you doing?
The alarm bell of her conscience shattered the moment and she pushed against his chest and stepped back to create some distance between them. ‘Don’t even think about it, buddy.’
His mouth tilted in a knowing smile. ‘I’m a patient man. The longer I wait, the better the satisfaction.’
Allegra had a feeling there would be a heck of a lot of satisfaction going on if she were to submit to his passion. The sort of satisfaction that had mostly eluded her in her previous encounters. She wasn’t good at sex, or at least not with a partner. She could get things working fairly well on her own, but with a partner she found it too distracting to orgasm. Dead embarrassing, but at least she had been able to fudge her way through it. So far.
But she suspected Draco wouldn’t be fooled.
Not for a minute.
Allegra refilled her glass for something to do with her hands. She was conscious of him watching her every move, his dark gaze resting on her like a caress. Her skin tingled, her pulse raced, her insides coiled tight with need. A need awakened by him. ‘I think it’s best if we forget we had this conversation. I don’t want anything to spoil Nico’s christening tomorrow.’
‘What will spoil it will be you refusing to marry me to save your father’s skin,’ Draco said. ‘You haven’t got a choice, Allegra. He needs you like he’s never needed you before.’
It was far more tempting than she wanted to admit. Not just because of how it would make her father finally appreciate her, but because she couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to be Draco’s wife. Sharing his life with him, sharing his luxury villa on his own private island. Sharing his body. Being pleasured by him, experiencing the full gamut of human passion. It was a dream come true for the gauche teenager she had once been.
However, she wasn’t that girl any more.
But then a thought dropped into her head. Had her father and Elena only asked her to be godmother to Nico because of Draco and his offer? Would they have asked her without the merger and the marriage condition? Wasn’t she good enough on her own to be Nico’s godmother? Why did she have to partner with her enemy? A man she loathed with the same passion she desired him.
Allegra twirled her glass and placed it back down on the tray next to the champagne bottle. ‘Here’s a hypothetical question for you. If I were to marry you then how long would you expect the marriage to last?’
‘For as long as I want it to.’
And how long would that be? Allegra turned to look at the view from the window to give herself more time to think. The sunlight was so bright it was almost violent. The intense blue of the Aegean Sea, and the equally vivid blue domes in contrast to the stark white of the houses, never failed to snatch her breath. It was picture-postcard perfect, especially from her father’s luxury villa in Oia, where the best sunsets in the world were occurred.
It was home and yet it wasn’t.
She’d always felt like she had a foot in both countries and it added to her sense of not really belonging anywhere.
If she married Draco to save her father from financial disgrace, where would that leave her when it was time to call an end to their marriage? Few marriages ended with a mutual agreement to part. There was nearly always one party who wasn’t happy about the break-up. Would that be her? And—if he wasn’t joking about the heir he said he wanted—there was no way she would have a child under such circumstances, with the knowledge that the marriage had no guarantee, no promise of full and lasting commitment.
Allegra turned back to look at Draco. ‘Still speaking hypothetically here. What about my career? Or do you expect me to give that up?’
‘No,
