For a startling moment he craved to strip her down and discover where the toughness ended and the woman began.
‘Good morning,’ she said, and sat.
Reaching for a fig, she tore the ruby flesh in half. Her lips wrapped around the luscious fruit as she took a bite. Watching her sleep was an ordeal for even the most pious man, but witnessing her eat was a study in erotic torture. He adjusted himself in his seat. Thanked all things holy that he could remain at the table for as long as it took to wrestle the pounding hammer of need into submission.
As Thea consumed the mouthful of fig she rubbed her neck, oblivious to his crushing desire to kiss the juice of that fruit from her lips till she moaned his name. He cleared his throat. Quelled the fantasy. She’d probably bite him, not kiss back.
‘Poor sleep?’
‘I’m sore from the couch.’
‘You should’ve asked me for proper pillows.’
‘I want my own room. There’s no privacy. No way to keep the mystery alive between us.’
Thea fluttered her long lashes. The glorious flirtation of her... Was this how his father had been trapped all those years ago? At least Raul’s report gave no indication that Thea had a lover stashed in some safe corner, ready to resume their relationship at a moment’s notice, like his mother had. Sad how he counted that as a blessing rather than an expectation.
Christo poured another thick, dark coffee and leaned back in his chair. ‘We’re newlyweds. Tangling the bed sheets with passion every night. We don’t want there to be any mystery.’
The carnal visions rioting through his head made him wish his words were true, rather than a pretence.
Anna came to the table. She bustled about arranging food, collecting plates. Thea’s lips tilted in a wicked smile as she stabbed a piece of meat with her fork. He had little doubt she wanted it to be his flesh under those sharp tines.
‘But, Christo, darling. I look haggard. Of course I need my own room,’ she said, with the perfect pitch of complaint. ‘Anna, come here. You’ll agree. Don’t I look exhausted?’
Anna sidled over to them, panic written all over her face.
What was Thea up to?
‘See—I look too horrid for Anna even to answer.’
The girl tried to run off, but Thea clamped a hand on her arm, pinning her to the spot.
‘No, stay. I’m not getting any sleep.’
Christo took another sip from his cup, schooling his face to one of polite interest. ‘There are good reasons for that. Which no one needs to hear...’
He understood now. He’d been witness to all his mother’s games over the years. This was no different.
‘Anna does.’ Thea looked at Anna, brows drawn, face serious. ‘He snores. Terribly. All night.’
The coffee caught in his throat. He lurched forward. Coughed.
‘I don’t!’
Thea’s wide-eyed innocence continued. ‘He doesn’t want to admit it... I’m sure he’s quite embarrassed.’
Nowhere in their bargain was there any term allowing her to make a fool of him in front of his staff. His voice was a low growl of warning. ‘Thea...’
She ignored him, focusing on Anna, whose look of horror might have been comical in other circumstances. ‘Now I’m getting dark rings under my eyes. Soon I’ll stop looking beautiful and Christo won’t want me anymore.’
‘I’ll buy you some earplugs.’
Thea lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘That won’t work. He’s a beast, I tell you. Why, last night—’
His chair scraped in protest along the tiles as he stood. Jaw clenched tight. Breathing hard.
‘Enough.’ The lies and manipulation stopped now. ‘Let Anna go before you horrify her any further.’
Thea released her grip and Anna ran back into the house. He sat. Took a drink of water. Attempted to cool the anger boiling his blood.
‘What is it about the words “real marriage” that you don’t understand?’
‘The pronouncement that I had to share your room came after I’d agreed to this arrangement of ours.’ She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. ‘That was underhanded. And as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t form part of our original agreement.’
He threw up his hands. ‘You’re trying to win this argument on a technicality?’
‘No. I’d prefer to talk about what the marriages I know of are actually like. My parents didn’t share a room. What about yours?’
His parents weren’t an example of marriage to which he aspired. Not that marriage was a state he’d ever thought he’d find himself in until that final argument with his father. But he didn’t want to give her any more ammunition.
He stretched his neck from side to side. It gave an audible and satisfying crack.
‘My parents weren’t traditional in many things.’
Their relationship had been one of mutually assured destruction. His father had loved his mother. His mother had loved the Callas fortune. A pregnancy and Christo’s birth had secured her future in a neat package.
‘So why do we need to be?’ Thea flicked her hair over her shoulders and pouted.
For all her theatrics, her lips were pink and dangerously kissable.
‘If you loved me, you’d let me have my own room.’
He’d learned from childhood that love and marriage were lies. And a caring family the biggest lie of them all.
Christo dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Since I don’t love you, what you say is meaningless.’
‘That’s the problem.’
Thea leaned forward, her hands splayed on the table. Christo’s gaze dropped as the front of her sheer top fell open.
‘If you were pretending to love me properly it’s what you’d do.’
Was she guileless enough not to know that her position allowed him a perfect view of her magnificent cleavage? All silky skin and powerful temptation? Probably not. He suspected Thea didn’t do anything without good reason and a great deal of thought.
He stared for a moment longer than he ought, then pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘You’re a manipulator.’
‘You’re heartless.’
Thea flopped back into her seat, hands clenched tight on the damask tablecloth. Her
