Bought by the Greek Tycoon Page 8

  'Yes, and as you have said no to my proposal he's likely to remain so, but for how much longer I have no idea.' Luke's hands fell from her shoulders and he gestured, palms up. 'He is an old man, after all.'

  Though she didn't want to admit she had anything in common with Luke, she knew how he felt. Her father was her only blood relative left. 'If I don't marry you, what will really happen to my father?' Jemma picked her words with care, the kernel of an idea forming in her mind. She had always wanted a child, and in her darker moments since Alan's death she had thought her chance was gone.

  'Once the story breaks, which it's bound to do without any assistance from me because there are other shareholders, the worst-case scenario is that he will end up in jail. The best that he can hope for is that he will end up penniless.'

  'And if I agreed, but with a few conditions of my own…?' Jemma knew she would never fall in love again, and although she had considered IVF in order to conceive a child she wasn't entirely happy with the idea. But now it appeared as though she had another choice—there was that word again!—not a perfect choice, by any means, but maybe it just might work.

  'You're not really in a position to set any conditions, but I am listening.'

  Did she really want to do this? Jemma wasn't entirely sure. For a moment she studied his implacable face. A muscle tensed along his jaw and she could sense a latent anger beneath the surface of his otherwise expressionless face. As he could have his pick of women, she hadn't been able to understand why he wanted her until he had mentioned the house in Zante. But now she intuitively recognised he had yet another reason. A man of Luke's ego could not stand rejection. She had rejected him twice…once after the night on the yacht and again two months ago—and he had not forgotten. Somehow knowing that made it easier for her to continue, because she knew he would soon have his fill of her and move on to another woman, and hopefully she would be left with a baby to love.

  'I understand you travel a great deal with your work, and spend a lot of time in America and the Far East. That wouldn't suit me at all. I would want a guarantee that I can continue to live in London and continue to run my own business.'

  Luke gazed down at her with an enigmatic gleam in his grey eyes. 'Agree to marry me and I'll accept your conditions, with a couple of provisos.' He wondered if she had any idea she was offering him the best of both worlds—a wife to bear his child in London, and the freedom to pursue the lifestyle he enjoyed. 'We live here in my apartment and you sell your house. No other men in your life, obviously, and I would expect you to stay with me when I am at home in Greece with Theo. As for the rest—as you say, my work takes me all over the world. I see no necessity for you to travel with me, and certainly not when you have our child.'

  To Jemma there was something very seductive about the words our child. If she married Luke, she would not really be betraying the love she had for Alan, she told herself, because there would be no love involved in her relationship with Luke. Just a straightforward bargain to save her father and give her the child she longed for.

  'Jemma, is that a yes or a no? Do we have a deal?' Luke asked, and, tilting her chin with one long finger, he added, 'You know it makes sense.' His voice was suddenly velvety deep, and dark in its intensity. 'Marry me and be the mother of my child.'

  Her stomach knotted with tension. His finger on her chin seemed to burn like a branding iron, and she hesitated. Luke had told her once that sometimes one had to choose between the lesser of two evils, and she knew now he was right. What was worse? A daughter refusing to marry a man she didn't love and condemning her father to jail? Or a daughter marrying a man she did not love to save her father and also to create a child to love? Neither was particularly laudable, but on balance the latter seemed the lesser of two evils.

  'Yes,' she finally agreed.

  'Good.' Luke's hand fell from her face and he gestured at the cluttered table. 'Then let's get this cleared up. We have an engagement ring to choose before tonight.'

  'We do?' And the enormity of what she had agreed to hit her like a punch in the stomach. Instinctively she glanced down and clasped her hands together, turning her gold wedding band around her finger. 'Is an engagement ring really necessary?' she murmured. It had never occurred to her that she would have to remove Alan's ring, and she wanted to delay the moment for as long as possible.

  'Very necessary,' Luke said curtly, his hands closing around her upper arms. 'The whole point of an engagement ring is to declare that the woman is taken. Your husband has been dead for two years and you've lived in denial for long enough. Remove his ring before tonight; you don't need it any more.' Jemma tried to pull away, but Luke's fingers tightened. 'Face it, Jemma darling, I am your future.' he murmured, and he drew her inexorably closer into the heat and power of his tall frame.

  Tension sizzled in the air. Angry and sad at the same time, Jemma saw the triumph in his wolf-like eyes and wanted to hit him. But before she could turn thought to action his dark head swooped and his mouth covered hers in a hard, demanding kiss. His tongue sought entry into the moist interior of her mouth, and when he finally lifted his head Jemma was sagging against him and fighting to breathe.

  'Sealed with a kiss,' Luke mocked. 'Pity we haven't got time for more.' He grinned, his arms falling from her.

  But the jeweller awaits, and we have to get rid of this mess.'

  Still reeling from the kiss, Jemma watched numbly as Luke turned and began to clear away with brisk efficiency. A less lover-like fiancée would be hard to imagine—but then theirs was no love-match, she reminded herself. Luke was a stockbroker and he had brokered a deal on marriage. Nothing more. She bent down to help clear the table, and, picking up the chopsticks, she had a strong urge to stab him in the back with one…

  Jemma had thought Jan's birthday party horrendous, but it was nothing to the nightmare her father's birthday party was fast becoming. She was a teeming mass of quivering nerves and Luke's hand, which had rarely left her waist all evening, hadn't helped.

  It was all Luke's fault. She should have realised when he'd swept her off to Bulgari's on New Bond Street that he actually meant what he'd said. He had paid a fortune for an impressive diamond and emerald ring, then driven her straight home and informed her he had some business to attend to but he would be back to pick her up at seven-thirty.

  She had spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around her house in something of a daze. She had showered and dressed mechanically. It had only been when she'd slowly removed her wedding band that the full import of what she was doing had hit her. Her heart had filled with sadness and regret and she'd given way to a few tears.

  But at seven-thirty Jemma had opened the door to him, wearing the classic black designer dress she had worn for Jan's party. She'd seen the flash of disapproval in his eyes, and then stiffened as he grasped her hand and carefully noted the pale line where her wedding ring had been. He'd given her a satisfied smile. 'Good girl, Jemma. But remind me to buy you some more colourful clothes. After all, the grieving widow is no more.' He'd led her to a waiting limousine, where a chauffeur had held the door open, and she'd slipped into the back seat, quickly followed by Luke.

  Ignoring his crack about her widowed state, she asked, 'Why are we travelling in such style?' casting him a sidelong glance and trying not to think how handsome he looked in his immaculate evening suit.

  'I always do when I intend to have a drink.' He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket for the stunning engagement ring and slipped it on her finger. 'I would imagine that a public celebration of our betrothal, plus the occasion of your father's birthday, will involve the drinking of numerous toasts and copious amounts of champagne.'

  Jemma touched the beautiful emerald ring on her finger. 'Is this really necessary?' Glittering silver eyes locked with hers, and fear feathered down her spine. What had she done, agreeing to marry Luke? 'What will people think? My father and Leanne and their friends are never going to believe in a whirlwind wedding—not to mention Jan!'<
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  'Yes, they will. Because I spoke to your father an hour ago. And, yes, the engagement ring is necessary—as the first prop, the traditions that surround a marriage. You and I know it's a business deal, but to the world at large it will appear as a conventional marriage—as long as you follow my lead and say nothing.'

  Glancing once more at the sparkling jewel, she remembered the last time a man had put a ring on her finger—with love. Now it seemed to mock everything she had once believed in and she wanted to rip it off.

  'Don't even think about it,' Luke growled, accurately reading her mind, and before she could respond he was kissing her senseless.

  It only got worse when they arrived at Connaught Square. Her father congratulated her, saying, 'Thank God you two have resolved your differences.'

  Jemma was still trying to figure out what her father meant when Leanne, in a surprising show of affection, hugged her and wished her happiness. Jan was the biggest shock of all; with a very young and very handsome male model in tow, she also hugged Jemma and whispered in her ear, 'Well done, kid.'

  That her family were happy for her was obvious. In fact, glancing around the crowd now, as far as Jemma could see everyone was happy except her. Without thinking she reached for the diamond studded locket around her neck. Stroking it between her fingers she relaxed a little, a soft sigh escaping her.

  Luke felt her relax beneath his palm and thought it was because she was finally adjusting to the situation. He glanced down at her, a smile forming on his firm lips. But then he heard her sigh and saw she was idly playing with the locket around her neck, a faraway look on her beautiful face. She couldn't make it more obvious if she tried that she was bored.

  His hand exerted pressure on her waist and subtly moved her in front of him, his eyes darkening with outrage. He wasn't used to the women in his life being anything other than totally absorbed with him, but Jemma had the ability to drift off into a world of her own and it infuriated him. 'Enjoying the party, darling?' he murmured silkily.

  Jemma glanced warily up at him, but she refused to lie. 'No, I'm not really a party person—and especially not when I am the cynosure of all eyes because of your ring on my finger,' she said bluntly. It had been a devil of a day, and a pig of a night, and she could feel a headache coming on. She was fed up and had had enough.

  'In fact, I'm going to find my father; I want a word with him. After all, this is supposed to be his birthday party, and you've rather hijacked the event. You can do what you like, but after I have spoken to Dad, I am going home,' she said defiantly, and, grasping his hand, she tried to remove it from her waist.

  Luke could easily have restrained her, but, banking down his anger, he agreed. 'You're right. The engagement is now public, and we've been here long enough.' Dipping his head, he pressed a swift kiss on her softly parted lips and let her go. He was rewarded with a faint blush that coloured her pale face, and the sudden gleam of awareness in her incredible eyes. 'I'll give you ten minutes and then I'll come looking for you,' he promised, and he watched her spin around and edge through the crowd towards her father as if all the devils in hell were after her.

  He smiled a wicked smile. For a woman who had been married she was remarkably naïve. Surely she realised that the pleasure of getting her alone far outweighed any desire Luke had to stay at the party. His blood heated at just the prospect of the night ahead.

  As for Jemma, she could do nothing about the embarrassing colour in her cheeks. But as she saw her father slip out into the hall a light of challenge glittered in her eyes. Her dad was not getting away so easily. She wanted to hear the truth from his own mouth. Had he been aware of exactly what Luke had in mind from the beginning? And what had he meant by his comment that she and Luke had resolved their differences?

  She reached the hall just time to see him disappear into his study, but before she could follow him a slightly inebriated Jan strolled up to her. 'You dark horse, Jemma. I've got to hand it to you—I would never have guessed. Even when Luke took me to lunch after my birthday, told me he only considered me as a friend, and quizzed me about you, it never entered my head you knew him so well. Until…'

  'Knew him so well!' Jemma exclaimed, the heat in her face draining away to leave her white as a sheet. Luke must have told Jan about their one-night stand, as he had threatened. How could he have been so cruel?

  'You can drop the grieving widow look, Jemma. My mother told me all about you and Luke when I arrived this evening.'

  ' Leanne told you?' It was getting worse by the second, and Jemma didn't notice the reappearance of her father until he was beside her.

  Beaming from ear to ear, he threw a paternal arm around her shoulder and hugged her. 'It's all right, Jemma, there's no need to look so shocked. You know—Luke insisted I had to tell Leanne the truth about the company, and she was a bit upset at first. But when I told her you and Luke had known each other for over a year and had parted over a silly argument, and that he now wanted to try and resolve your differences and hopefully marry you, Leanne wanted to call you straight away—but I wouldn't let her.' Jemma glanced up and saw the proud expression on his face with incredulity. 'I said no, we were not to interfere, even though as my future son-in-law he had offered to save the business. And see how right I was? One lunch was all it took for you two to decide to make up, and I couldn't be happier.'

  Or more relieved, she thought bitterly. 'Luke actually told you we knew each other?' she demanded.

  'Don't look so surprised, Jemma; you must have known he was still keen at my party,' Jan said bluntly. 'And you might have told me you'd already met him in Greece and spent time on his yacht, instead of letting me make a fool of myself trying to get him into bed. But, hey! No hard feelings—the next best thing to a wealthy husband is a fantastically rich brother-in-law. I should have guessed when he offered to invest in my business while insisting we were just friends.'

  Jemma's mouth worked but no sound came out. What was there to say? It was game, set and match to Luke. He came out of this as the generous, pining lover… What a joke! But she wasn't laughing. For a mad moment she was tempted to blurt out the truth—only after one look at their smiling, relieved faces she bit her tongue.

  'Is this a private party or can anyone join in?' Leanne sauntered up and linked her arm through her husband's, smiling broadly at Jemma. 'I always knew there was more to you than met the eye, Jemma darling. Well done.'

  Well done! She felt as if she had been turned over and spit-roasted, and white-hot rage consumed her. 'Thank you.' Not trusting herself to stay a second longer without exploding in fury at the injustice of the situation, Jemma turned to walk away and bumped straight into Luke. One long arm closed around her waist to steady her. She looked up and saw the glitter of mockery in his grey eyes and wanted to rip his throat out.

  Knowing perfectly well she was furious, Luke hauled her hard into his side, the warning explicit in the firm touch of his fingers. He smiled at her father. 'You will excuse us? After all, this is your party, David.' Glancing down at Jemma he added, 'I think we've stolen enough of your father's thunder for one night, darling.'

  Was it only she who noticed his emphasis on the word stolen? It was a seething but subdued Jemma who remained silent as Luke said goodnight to the other three…

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The moment she stepped out of the house Jemma turned to Luke. 'You bastard! How dare you—?'

  'Save it, Jemma, and get in the car,' Luke said curtly. With his hand at her back he almost pushed her in and slid in beside her, throwing a long arm around her shoulders to hold her firmly in the seat. The car moved off after a brief command from Luke.

  'Don't you order me around,' she snapped, her amber eyes clashing angrily with steel-grey. 'And how could you tell my father we were—' She stopped. Were what? Lovers? She couldn't say the word, and she hated the way he arched a sardonic black brow at her obvious reluctance to continue.

  'Poor Jemma,' he taunted softly. 'You've buried your head in the san
d for so long that when the truth is out you still can't admit the fact.'

  'You wouldn't know the truth if it jumped up and bit you,' she spat. 'You're a devious, conniving swine, and you might be able to fool my father but you don't fool me.' She tore her gaze from his and shook her head. 'I must have been mad to think this arrangement would work.'

  She felt his fingers dig into her shoulder as his free hand tilted her head back slightly, so she was forced to meet his eyes, and the look she saw in his glittering gaze made her tremble inside.

  'No, you only fool yourself, Jemma. I do not lie—and I would kill a man for insulting me as you have,' he hissed with sibilant softness, his nostrils flaring and his lips tightening into a hard bitter line. It struck her forcibly that invoking his anger hadn't exactly been wise.

  Luke in a fury was an impressive specimen of primitive male. Inexplicably Jemma's heart stopped beating, and she was aware of him as never before—the rise and fall of his muscled chest beneath the conservative clothing, the strong tanned column of his throat and the small pulse that beat in his cheek. Her heart jerked back into a frantic rhythm, and as she watched his handsome face was suddenly wiped clear of all expression. 'So consider yourself lucky that I'm a man of restraint.'

  'If you say so.' He didn't look very restrained to Jemma, or feel it as his body leaned over hers, making her nerves jangle with a host of sensations that were nothing to do with fear. She lost any desire to argue with him as desire of a different kind brought a humiliating blush to her cheeks.

  'I do say so. And if this marriage is to have any chance of convincing my grandfather and the world at large that it is genuine, I suggest you start trying to do the same. We have to present a united front—which shouldn't be too difficult.' His face was only inches from hers, and his hand slipped lower to curve around her breast, his thumb apparently idly stroking the swelling peak through the fabric of her gown. 'And, with that in mind, I told your father that we met a year ago and you visited me on my yacht. We had a fight. The truth as far as it goes, you must agree,' he murmured softly, his narrowed gaze dropping to her mouth.