It was only when they were alone in the large penthouse condo that he released her.
She rubbed her wrist, staring at him. “Why were you so determined to marry me right away, Talos?” she demanded. “Why? I want the truth right now!”
“The truth?” he said tersely. “What a novel idea where you’re concerned.”
She pushed aside the little pain at his jab. “Was it because I’m pregnant?”
He looked away. “I will always protect my child.”
Pain went through her. Not love, then. Nothing to do with love. “If it was only for the baby’s sake, why did you lie?” she said hoarsely. “Why did you say you loved me?”
“I never lied to you.” His mouth pressed into a hard line as he stared down at her. “I said I wished to marry you and give the baby a name. Both of which are true.”
She shook her head, fighting unbidden tears. “You made me believe you loved me,” she whispered. “You tricked me into marriage. Don’t you have any sense of honor—any honor at all?”
“Honor!” Their faces were an inch apart as he looked at her with a sneer. “You accuse me of dishonor!”
She felt suddenly afraid, trapped, his hard body over hers, his strong hands like shackles on her wrists.
Then she felt his breath on her skin. Heard his breathing change as the mood between them electrified, changing from anger to something else. His grip on her wrists tightened, his gaze dropping to her mouth. Her heart stopped in her chest, then began to flutter wildly. Thum-thumm. Thumm-thum. She tingled from her lips to her breasts down to her deepest core.
With a savage intake of breath, he dropped her wrists.
Turning away from her, he walked down the hall. His footsteps echoed heavily against the marble floor. A moment later, he returned with something flimsy and silver that sparkled in his hands.
“Get dressed,” he said, his lip curling with scorn. He tossed the silvery fabric at her. “Wear that.”
For a moment, she just stared at him, holding the sequined fabric close to her chest. Behind him, the floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the majestic Acropolis, lit up with brilliant lights on the cragged mountain like a torch above the city. She could see the white stone buildings below them, interspersed with palm and olive trees. Her heart was still pounding, her brain in a fog from his closeness a moment ago.
Then she held up the tiny cocktail dress, metallic and shiny and silver. It was dead sexy—and hard. Just like all the clothes she’d given away in Venice.
“No.” She lifted her chin. “I told you. I don’t want to dress like that anymore.”
“You’ll do what I tell you.”
“I’m your wife, not your slave.”
Crossing the room in three strides of his powerful legs, he grabbed her by the shoulders. “You’ll obey me, or—”
She tossed her hair back, revealing her neck as she glared at him. “Or what?”
Their eyes locked, held. She heard the quickening of his breath, the gasp of her own.
He wanted to kiss her. She knew it. She could feel it.
But abruptly, he released her. His expression became a mask and he looked almost bored as he glanced at his expensive platinum watch.
“You’d best hurry. We leave in ten minutes.” He paused at the door. “Look your best, won’t you?” he said coolly. “A special friend of yours will be at the party.”
“Party? What party? What special friend?”
But he left her without answer, leaving her to change her clothes alone.
Alone, she thought bitterly.
She hadn’t even known what that word really meant until she became a wife.
CHAPTER EIGHT