Claire had just finished the narration for Nick Stavos—the guy was beaming at her. “Your voice—you have the voice of Greece. I hear your love for Greece. You were not born here but your soul is Greek!” He waved his hand. His black hair—streaked with gray—flopped down and he pushed it back. “Now you must do the promos for me.”

Claire smiled. “You’d better talk to Brenna—my agent. She’d skin me if I did extra work for you without her knowing about it.”

“Money—bah. I’ll talk money later. Just say you will do the promos!”

“Talk to Brenna.” Claire stood and offered her hand to Nick. “Then we’ll talk.”

He shook her hand and headed out, already pulling out his cell phone to make a call—hopefully to Brenna. Claire shut down the studio lights and headed out to the pool.

Antonio had been travelling for the last week—he’d said he had to visit his dad’s various businesses. Giving everyone a chance to meet him, he said. She missed him. More than she should.

She also knew she’d better get used to it.

The divorce was about due to happen.

The wedding had been a huge splash in the papers—but thankfully, some star had wrecked his car and his drunk driving arrest had taken over the spotlight. But Claire knew that Antonio’s divorce was going to cause headlines. She was ready to run back to New York as soon as possible.

The house seemed empty to her.

Eva and Alexandra had flown off to Milan yesterday, to look at art schools for Eva, Alexandra had said. With the Nick Stavos documentary finished, Steve and George were spending a few last days visiting a few of the Greek islands and then would fly back home, too. There wasn’t anything left here for her.

Claire climbed the staircase and stepped into the bedroom she and Antonio had been sharing. She sat down on the bed. Home would be nice. She missed her apartment. She missed Brenna—and Brenna had been after her to line up a new job. She also had the animated film about ready to start production—there’d been some kind of snag in the schedule and the film had been pushed back, but it would be starting up again in a month or two. Claire knew she should feel more excited about it.

Picking up the phone, she called Brenna.

“Hey, what’s up, girlfriend?”

“I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Really? Okay, I am so not buying that reading. Want to try again…or tell me what’s going on with you. I could hear this same tone in your voice when we talked last week.”

“I just called to tell you I finished the documentary narration. I’ll…I’ll be heading home in a couple of days.”

“Are you homesick? Or just sick? You don’t sound so good,” Brenna said, suspicion lacing her voice. “Why do you sound close to tears?”

“I’m just being silly, I guess. It’s a little lonely.”

“Okay, that is so not like you. Have you eaten today?”

“Well, some Fanouropita—that’s a Greek spiced raisin cake. Gaia makes stuff that would make a saint break a fast.”

“Okay, that tears it. Your blood sugar is in the ditch. You are to hang up, go get something to eat, take a swim and call me back.”

“But won’t that be like way late then for you.”

“No, you’re way late—we’re mid day right now. Go eat. Call me later. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.” Claire hung up. She headed down to the kitchen. Gaia had taken the night off to visit her granddaughter, and the rest of the staff had left for the night as well—some of them stayed in servants quarters on the other side of the garage, but most of them drove home to the suburbs of Athens. Claire found some kakkavi, a fish chowder, left over from lunch and loukoumades, the honey dumplings she was now officially addicted to. She dug out a beer from the fridge and heated up the soup, and ate the dumplings as the soup warmed. She did feel better.

Heading back up to the bedroom, she stopped in the doorway.

A half-naked woman was just stepping out of her dress. Slim as a super model with breast that had to have been bought, the woman stopped and stared at her. “Ah, you’re the wife. Hi, I’m Antonio’s mistress.”

Claire’s mouth fell open.

* * *

Antonio drove himself home from the airport. He was tired, unshaven, and probably smelled like airplane. He’d been on one for too many days now. He left the BMW in the driveway and headed into the house. He thought about stopping in the drawing room for a drink, but instead he headed upstairs.

His marriage would be over with soon.

He had set everything in motion just a few days ago. He also had no doubt that Claire would be gone. He’d heard from Alexandra that Claire had finished her narration for the Nick Stavos documentary—there was no reason for her to stay in Athens now.

Steps heavy, he plodded up the stairs.

He stopped when he saw Claire and a half-naked woman in the bedroom. He blinked—and then he remembered.

Claire turned on him and jabbed a finger at Maria. “She’s your mistress! Mistress.”

Exhausted, shoulders slumping, Antonio walked to Maria’s side and put an arm around her waist. “Yes. She is. I’m going to commit adultery with her. The photos of us in bed will make the divorce go smoothly.” He kept his voice flat.

Claire’s mouth also flattened. She stalked over to Maria, grabbed the girls’ wrist and started dragging her out.

“But…but…I was hired,” Maria protested, heels dragging on the carpet.

“Oh, you’ll get your full fee. Now get out.” Claire slammed the door on Maria and turned on Antonio. “You hired a hooker!”

He stiffened. “Maria is not a prostitute.”

“No, she’s your mistress. She said that.”

He crossed his arms. “Yes, I need a mistress to get a divorce.”

Claire dragged off her shirt. “The only mistress you’re going to have is me!”

Antonio shook his head. “You must be tired. Have you eaten today?”

“What is it with people asking me that? Yes, I ate.” She slipped off her jeans so that she stood there in pink panties and a white sensible bra—not quite the black lace Maria had been wearing. Antonio was instantly hard in a way he had not been for Maria.

“We are getting a divorce. That was the agreement. So you can go home. So we can each get on with our lives.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that—I was thinking about that when I was eating Gaia’s honey dumplings. And I’m not sure I want a life without you in it. Do you have offices in New York?”

“No…but well, I’ve thought of expanding.”

“Expanding’s good.” She unhooked her bra and let it fall. Antonio was certain he was expanding—and his pants weren’t.

Claire slipped her panties off. “I kind of flipped out when I found Maria in here. I…well, there were thoughts of slapping her, or maybe clawing her eyes out. But I was good—I didn’t lose it. Well, I did yell a little”

Antonio ran a finger down her bare arm. “Do you mean that you want to stay married? To me?”

“No, I mean I want to get married again. For real. With my folks there. And my dad giving me away. I was thinking we’d do a wedding in New York for them.”

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. “I don’t want a divorce. I’ve been trying to figure out a way to keep you here with me, but I didn’t want to hurt your career.”

Claire smiled. She rubbed her breasts over his chest and started to unbutton his shirt. “You are wearing too many clothes. And I think after Nick’s film starts playing I’m going to have a ton of work.”

Antonio scooped her up in his arms. He carried her to the bed and tossed her onto it. Ripping off his shirt, he toed off his shoes, stripped off his socks and pants and covered her body with his. “If you wish to be married in New York, we will.”

Claire smiled. “I think I like this side of you—but I want more.”

Antonio pushed himself up. “What more?”

“Everything more.” Claire rolled him onto his back and straddled him. She pinned his hands above his head and started to rub herself on him.

He groaned. “You’re torturing me.”

“That’s the idea. Ain’t it wonderful?” She rubbed her breasts over him, and then wiggled her hips.

His eyes darkened and his self-control snapped. He told her raggedly, “I’m sorry, but I need you now.”

Shifting, he threw her onto the bed. He pushed into her, all thought lost—he needed her the same way he needed his next breath. Wrapping her in his arms, he lost himself in her. He heard her soft moans and it drove him over the edge and into oblivion.

Gasping, Antonio fell onto her. Claire rubbed her cheek against his and whispered, “I like it when you lose control. Do that more often.”

“Every day. S’agapo—I love you.” Pulling back, he looked down at her. “What my father did was wrong—both when he called you such names as he did and then when he forced this marriage on us. But there is a right in this, too—we are right. Stay with me forever, Mrs. Rosso. Stay with me in New York or in Athens or wherever you wish, for where you are is where my heart is.”

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “S’agapo—I love you, too! And welcome home, Mr. Rosso. And if you ever start thinking about a mistress or divorce again, you better remember I am not the sharing type.”

He grinned and brushed the damp hair from her face. “Ah, my darling—you are a formidable woman. I wouldn’t dare disappoint you.”

“Good. That means you can make love to me again.”

“And again.” He kissed her cheek. “And again.” He kissed her eyelid. “And again.” He leaned down to kiss her mouth. This was a woman who would have kicked Matthias Rosso’ ass—the thought pleased him. But even more, the thought of Claire as his wife for far longer than a month pleased him even more.