The Greek Tycoon's Tarnished Bride (Men of the Zodiac) (6 page)

“I
’
m impressed you thought about the car seat,” Erica said flatly as the Range Rover swung away from Kimmie
’
s house and accelerated onto the main road out of Plumstead.

“
I don’
t like to take chances on anything if I don
’
t have to.” Tito
’
s hand slid down to where the seatbelt tethered the baby seat to the plump upholstery of the backseat between them. She saw him touch the metal clip briefly and then, as if satisfied everything was in order, rested his large palm back on his thigh. Erica found herself staring at the way the fine material of his suit trousers stretched across that thigh. At the muscles and sinews she imagined lay beneath just inches from where she sat. “And both I and the driver have practiced fitting it so many times we can do it in under ten seconds, so don
’
t worry.
”

She snapped her gaze away before he caught her looking at his body. “Well, that
’
s more than I can do. Thank you.”

He made a silent hand gesture to the driver, and the interior ceiling slid back to reveal a panoramic glass roof. “No problem, and this car is much safer than his own cot back in your flat right now.”

She suddenly felt irritated and wasn
’
t honest enough with herself to admit that it was because of the effect he was having on her, not because of the circumstances she found herself in or the moist, grumpy sniveling of her fractious baby. “You do seem very keen to remind me of that, Mr. Makris, and I wish you wouldn
’
t because it
’
s making me feel on edge and Nick is picking up on it.” She stroked his downy head as he wriggled and squirmed against the restraints and his cheeks flamed red. “He
’
s not usually this fretful.”

“I
’
m sorry. I
’
m doing my best.” A flash of emerald hit her full on as their eyes met, and then there was the hint of a smile flickering around the corners of his mouth. “Once we are at the safe house we can all relax.”

“You really don
’
t like to leave anything to chance, do you? Or is it a cheaper option than staying in a London hotel somewhere?” His silence irked her, and a sixth sense kicked in. “I
’
m beginning to think you planned this all along, that you were never going to let me go back home with Nick. That
’
s why there was a car seat installed, and you persuaded me to hand over my house keys…”

He looked away and lowered his passenger window a chink in spite of the wind and rain. “I
’
m not going to hurt you. I
’
m here to keep you both safe, remember.”

“But you weren
’
t going to take no for an answer, were you?”

“No, I was not. I couldn
’
t.”

“So you
’
ve kidnapped us!” She reached for the back
seat door handle and tried it.
“Blacked out windows and the child lock on my side. And I have no idea where you are taking us—”

“You
’
re overreacting. Calm down. I haven
’
t taken away your phone or anything, have I?” His face was impassive, and he stared straight ahead, nodding to the driver who was eyeing them closely in his rearview mirror. “You can head back to your East End hovel right this minute if you really want to, but I can
’
t let you take Nick with you. Your choice.”

Her heart was racing and adrenaline was buzzing so furiously through her body that she felt dizzy. “Some choice, you creep.”

He rasped the tips of his fingers over the dark stubble that colored his olive-skinned jawline. “Nice.”

“Where are you taking us? I demand to know so I can text Kimmie and let her know.”

“
Kimmie doesn
’
t need to know. The fewer people who know where we are going, the more secure the safe house will be, which is kind of the idea, right?”

“So how many people do know besides me?”

“Our driver, Maximillian up there, and me. The housekeeping staff has been told to expect us, but they have no idea who we are. It
’
s better that way, minimal risk. But if it makes you feel better, we are headed twenty miles out of central London, near Hertford. A very fine grade two listed Georgian property set within twenty-eight acres of land.” He smiled but didn
’
t look at her. “Nobody will be any the wiser about our presence. It
’
s a very discreet property. Very secure. I
’
m told it
’
s nice.
”

“Told by who? Got some dodgy Russian friends, have you? Or Sicilians? Or maybe you have contacts within The Establishment over here.”

His chest rose and fell with amusement. “You have a vivid imagination. You
’
re also too inquisitive for your own good, I fear. Please, just sit back and enjoy the ride. You are safe. Think of this as a well-deserved five star holiday.” His chin lifted as the car picked up speed on the open road. “I
’
m sure you could do with one after the last year or so you
’
ve had.”

Nick began to cry before she could come back with a sufficiently caustic reply. “He
’
s hungry
, and he will only get louder and louder until I feed him. Do you mind?”

Tito looked at her in horror. “Feed him? In here? You need to keep your seat belts on while we
’
re moving. I
’
ll get Max to pull over at the next service station so you can have some privacy.”

“Privacy?” Then she realized why he looked so flustered, and she grinned wickedly at his discomfort. If Nick weren
’
t screeching like an air raid siren, she would play along with this little scenario, but as it was… “He was weaned off my breasts some time ago. Kimmie packed some Marmite sandwich fingers with his stuff, the clever girl. And a cup of milk. Cow
’
s milk. Sorry to disappoint.”

High color flushed the top of his sharp cheekbones and a muscle ticked in his tightly clamped jaw.
That shut him up.

Chapter Four

“T
his is it, we
’
re here,” Tito murmured so as not to wake Nick who was now fast asleep after his feast. The twenty mile journey had taken very little time at all, and he was impressed with the professionalism the British driver had shown throughout it, considering his expensive vehicle was now covered in buttery crumbs and milk splatters, and his ears were likely sore from all the yelling. “
And we don
’
t even have to wake Nick up as he
’
s settled so well. He can stay sleeping in the car seat if we bring it carefully inside, right?”

Erica stared impassively out of the window as the car slipped through a pair of enormous wrought iron gates that mysteriously opened as they had approached the country estate. “I believe that
’
s the idea of the handle at the back, yes?” Her fingers twiddled nervously with a toggle on her coat.

“Sorry, I forgot. You did mention not having a car and therefore no car seat.” He wasn
’
t sorry really. In fact, he wished she
’
d stop being so obtuse and realize that he was only trying to help her, to save her and her son from what potentially was threatening them and fulfill his obligations to his dead friend. Actually, some kind of a thank you might not go amiss, but…whatever, he should be used to women treating him like crap by now.

And he had pretty much lied about there being suspicious activity outside her house, after all. Those kids in hoodies probably weren
’
t as threatening as all that, but it was a means to an end. He needed to get them both to safety just in case and…one stage nearer to Greece. “You must be tired. I have instructed the staff to make sure everything is ready for you both. You have a suite of private rooms, and there are two police-checked, qualified nannies at your disposal. Twenty-four hour catering, an Olympic-sized, heated swimming pool, and a dedicated butler, naturally.”

“Naturally,” she drawled and shot him a smile that dripped with sarcasm. “You have some fancy friends, Makris, I
’
ll give you that. Look at the size of that thing.”

He followed the direction of her gaze to his left as the car followed a meandering gravel drive gently around the trunks of some ancient oak trees sunk into lush green striped, manicured lawns. Beyond a glittering ornamental lake with a gushing fountain in the center, an imposing house came into view. It was three stories tall and eight windows wide not including an adjoining two-story wing covered in ivy. Multiple chimney pots thrust upward from a tile and slate roof, which sloped over old red brick walls and an enormous white portico at the center front of the house. “
Indeed,
” Tito replied. “It has a pleasing symmetrical elevation to the front. I like that.”

“Are you real?” Her face was riven with incredulity—he
’
d said something she found strange for some reason. “That
’
s the weirdest thing I
’
ve ever heard from someone your age. You are under fifty, presumably?”

How was he supposed to reply to that? Politely was probably the correct answer, but she was mocking him, and he hated that. Really, really hated that. And to think he was still in the process of persuading this creature to marry him even though they were strangers, he disapproved of her lifestyle, and she clearly didn
’
t like him one bit. It was utter madness, but the worst that could happen would be for her to continue the long tradition of Makris madams who thrived on humiliating their husbands and making their lives a misery.

He took a deep breath, cast his mind back to Athens, and reminded himself that none of this pettiness mattered—he was on a mission and his goals were distinct. He would not let this woman crush him like his mother crushed his father, because he would never fall in love with her and let her wipe the floor with him. Love and blind devotion were the ultimate weaknesses; he had learned that the hard way throughout his childhood as Alkestis Makris bent the entire household to her iron will. Thank God he had escaped, and may God take pity on the poor fool of a man that still lived with her because he didn
’
t have the balls to kick her out.

“I have a lot of money in real estate, so I find it difficult not to analyze just about every building I see in a variety of ways. It
’
s geeky, I know. But lucrative.” He sensed her tensing as the car slowed to a halt on the grand driveway in front of an imposing white door. “Studying architecture for the sheer pleasure, and not with half an eye on rental value, is something I
’
ve promised myself I can indulge in when I retire. However, that won
’
t be for a couple of decades when I actually do turn fifty.”

“Is that when your pension pays out?”

He laughed, unsure if she was being sarcastic or making small talk. “I could jack it all in today and live a life of extreme luxury if I wanted to, but I have plans. Long-term plans that will require a lot of money and a lot of my time. I
’
m not ready to settle down in any kind of way yet.”

“Apart from acquiring an unsuitable wife and settling down with her, of course.”

“Of course, well noted.”
Excellent, she was warming to the idea.
“Until Nick is a man, and then we have an amicable divorce.”

“Always the planner. You
’
re consistent for sure.”

“
I don’
t like unnecessary risk or surprises, no.” He watched the driver turn off the engine and exit the vehicle to help them out. “And I hate to be mocked, so I make sure I don
’
t make stupid mistakes and lay myself open to ridicule.”

His mother had been a great one for humiliating him in public when he was a boy and teenager, pouring scorn on him and lavishing praise on the sister who was her more favored child. Christ, even now the woman was still an evil bitch. Why he still had anything to do with her now that he was a multi-millionaire was a mystery to most people who witnessed even one of her ridiculous displays of vitriol and who didn
’
t know him that well. Not that he let people get too close to him these days anyway. He always gritted his teeth and put on his best fake smile for his father
’
s sake. It was a matter of loyalty and profound pity.

“Don
’
t worry, I won
’
t embarrass you deliberately once we get out of this car. I know you think I
’
m lower than something dragged out of the gutter, but I
’
m used to saying what rich men want to hear. Or even loaded women sometimes when they want to distract their wealthy husbands for a few hours while they screw their fitness trainers. Or a random barman. Or their chauffeur. Anything goes.”

Tito felt his spine stiffen as Max opened Erica
’
s door and held it open with a deferential smile. Rich women screwed their chauffeurs? Of course they must, but he was suddenly having irrational thoughts about Erica having her eye on the hired help. She did herself no favors by being so frank about her job, and he hoped there was a shrinking violet of a woman somewhere beneath that toned and glowing skin. She bristled with energy and rebellion. There wouldn
’
t be many men who would take her on as a wife, let alone manage to tame her. He could do both; he knew her weakness: Nick. She would do anything for her son. Anything. And Tito was perfectly prepared to exploit that to achieve his goals if he had to.

“I
’
ll deal with the baby seat,” he said and flicked on a smile of reassurance as Erica hesitated to leave the car. “It
’
ll be heavy.”

She tipped her head to one side and frowned. “I
’
m not a soppy weakling, you know, but thanks. Just try not to wake him because he will be super crabby when he comes round. We don
’
t want to scare away the staff just yet.”

He watched as she swung her long, faded denim-clad legs out of the car like an experienced royal would. She had the most amazing legs…and images of them wrapping themselves around that thick steel pole the previous night flashed through his mind. All that pole dancing must give her such tone and control and female strength. He coughed as he felt his groin stiffen and looked up to notice Max watching him drag his eyes away from her supermodel-shaped, curvy ass. How had that happened? How had he suddenly lost control of his faculties like some sex-crazed adolescent? Tito Makris didn
’
t lose his head at the sight of a beautiful woman—that was for kids and weak men. The downfall of his father and…he tried not to think about Yannis. Tito was different, an exception to the rule. He glared at the driver and then lowered his gaze to the catch securing the baby seat. “
I won
’
t be a second,” he muttered and winced as the metal buckle snapped fiercely open and hit him hard on the base of his thumb. “Damn.”

“You sure you
’
re okay?” Erica
’
s voice was playful as she ducked her head back into the car with eyes glinting a devilish baby blue. Those eyes were mocking him, he knew it. And she knew he knew it. He was going to have a battle on his hands with Erica Silver because she seemed like the kind of woman who would relish a mental fight, maybe even instigate it. “I
’
m sure Maxxy here knows how to work that thing,” she said with a smirk.

“I
’
m absolutely fine,” he said with a grunt as he swung his large frame out of the car and then heaved the baby seat out with one hand. “Easy.” He smiled smugly and swapped hands on the handle so the seat and baby were suspended in the air for a microsecond.

The smirk on her face transformed into a look of horror. “You—”

“It
’
s okay, I was never going to drop it.”

“He is not an
it
.”

God, she was prickly. “I meant the car seat, not Nick.”

Erica flicked back her hair and glared at him. “Did you do that to bait me? To make me feel vulnerable?”

“No. I was just swapping hands. This thing is heavy.”

“Liar.” She took the car seat handle firmly with both hands and he let go. “And I
’
ll tell you now: if anything bad happens to Nick from now on, I
will
kill you.”

The blue flames in her eyes told him she meant every word. “He won
’
t come to harm. If anything happens to him on my watch, I will take the consequences, but it won
’
t happen. You need to understand why I am doing all this, Erica. It
’
s not about business; it
’
s about Yannis, a promise, and my honor.”

“Then we understand each other as far as Nick goes.”

“On the matter of Nick and his safety, yes. As for everything else we have some wrinkles to iron out—”

“Nothing else matters but Nick,” she said and started to walk to the front door of the mansion, her sneakers crunching over the golden gravel. “Let
’
s get inside. I
’
m tired and hungry and you must be too.”

Yes, he was tired and hungry, and uncharacteristically anxious. They had a long way to go on this journey together, and he had a deep, unshakeable feeling that this situation with Erica Silver was going to be one of the trickiest he had ever encountered.

T
he huge front door opened as if by magic as they approached the bottom of three large, wide stone steps and the gilded lion
’
s head door knocker morphed into the stiff smile of a uniformed butler.

“We
’
ve been expecting you, Ms. Silver and Mr. Makris.”
To Erica
’
s astonishment he appeared to do a little bow as he waved them into the reception hall. “You are most welcome guests. May I send a boy out for your luggage, Sir?”

“Our luggage is following on,” Tito said smoothly. “But I assume you have the usual basics available in our suites? Ms. Silver is in need of a lie down.”

The butler nodded and smiled.

Fire ignited in her empty belly. “Excuse me—”
How dare he talk about her as if she wasn
’
t there and make decisions for her?

However, Tito seemed completely unfazed by her irritation and taking her by the elbow gently encouraged her towards the sweeping central staircase that lay at the far end of the hall. “You can order up as much food and drink as you both want when you
’
re ready. And anything else you need is just a phone call away. We are the only guests staying here for obvious reasons, so the staff are ready and waiting for all eventualities.” He lowered his voice, and she felt his breath on her ear. “But please don
’
t choose now to make a fuss. It would be very embarrassing.”

“Fuss?” She wrenched her arm away. “
I don’
t like people making decisions for me. I
’
m big enough and ugly enough to deal with stuff myself. I don
’
t need you organizing my life for me, thank you.”

She heard him exhale loudly. “We could eat together right now in the dining room, if you prefer.”

Sometimes only blunt sarcasm would do. “No, I would not prefer.”

“You would like to be alone in your suite where I can
’
t boss you around, I imagine?”

“Spot on, Sherlock.”

She caught a glimpse of his tight smile. “
Then let
’
s carry on the way we were, shall we?”

Erica felt her cheeks heat as her sneakers moved silently over the massive blue and gold Turkish rug that ran almost the full width of the café au lait colored marble floor. The pale blue-walled hall was bigger than her entire apartment, sporting its own huge fireplace with a wood burner flickering quietly away to the right and an eight-foot-plus console table on the left made from aged, blackened oak. Its thick legs were carved into barley sugar twists that reminded her of giant water eels, dark as pitch with an unworldly shine to them. At each end were matching wide chairs with antique tapestry seat covers. Heavy golden carved frames showcased a collection of oil paintings: landscapes, various animals, and grand people with large hair.