6 Years Later
Thirty minutes, Sasha thought. Just thirty more minutes and she’d be free. “Thank you, Danizia,” she said to the maid who had finished pinning up her hair. Spinning around on the dressing table chair, she smoothed her hair and bucked up her courage. This was her big goodbye! Sasha knew that she looked perfect for the part; cool, calm, sophisticated and unemotional. “That’s all I need tonight. You should head home and be with Enizio. He’s teething, isn’t he?”
Danizia smiled at the mention of her ten-month-old son. “And crying up a storm!” she added as she cleared off the tools from Sasha’s dressing table and straightened the bed one more time. She was eager for her mistress’ visit with her husband to go well tonight. “If you are sure you don’t need anything else…?”
Sasha placed a gentle hand on the maid’s shoulder. “No. Thank you. You’ve been wonderful and my hair is lovely.” The kind maid had twirled Sasha’s black tresses up into a sophisticated twist, adding curls and swirls to soften the effect but keeping it very stylish. Exactly what Sasha wanted for the night ahead of her.
Danizia smiled and basically curtsied as she left the room. No matter how many times she’d asked, the staff still wouldn’t stop curtsying around her. It wasn’t even as if her husband, Damon Galanos, was royalty. He was just embarrassingly wealthy.
She patted her hair one more time, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Hopefully, she didn’t look too much like the silly, naïve eighteen year old who had agreed to marry a stranger six years ago. After tonight, she would be free. Free of the oppressive marriage, free of the anger she felt every time she opened a newspaper and saw yet another woman on her husband’s arm and free of everything here in this small village while her husband traipsed around the world. She was going back to England, filing for divorce and starting over. She would get a job, find a sweet, kind, warm-hearted husband who loved her, one who knew what it meant to be married. She would get pregnant, have a family and she would never, ever wonder where the man in her life might be. She would find a man who was eager to be with her, who didn’t leave her home alone, wondering what she could do to bring him to her side.
She was done with that. She’d done it for eighteen years trying to meet her father. Then she’d done it for six months, trying to meet her grandfather. And the result of that search had been the living nightmare she had suffered in order to abolish all of the monster issues in her life. For no imaginary monster could live up to the ogre that was her grandfather.
Best of all, after tonight, she would never wait for her extremely handsome husband, trying to figure out how to be the woman he wanted, a woman who could interest a man like Damon Galanos. She would never second-guess herself, or try to become someone she wasn’t. Her grandfather had demanded that she become a good Greek wife so that his blackmail against Damon Galanos would be successful. That meant someone submissive and eager to please, always in the home and never venturing out.
She had done all of that and more, but to no avail. Sasha and Damon’s union had remained loveless, barren of companionship, and even chaste.
She’d fallen in love with Damon Galanos at first sight, but years of trying to become the perfect wife – to be the sweet, submissive wife – had failed to bring him home more than three times a year. Christmas, her birthday and Easter were the only times she saw her husband. And on those occasions, he generally had business people with him so she didn’t even have him to herself. Some of her birthdays he’d even missed, although the expensive trinkets were mostly delivered on time with apologies for his absence. And then there were the painful times when he missed her birthday or sent a birthday present on the wrong day. Even the wrong month. That alone had taught her that her husband had no intention of becoming a real partner with her.
This submissive, boring and tedious person wasn’t her. She’d never in her life been submissive until her grandfather had made that horrible deal. The deal that had ended in her imprisonment here in this house while her husband…
She’d lived here for six long years. This village was beautiful, the house more than amazing. Every luxury she might imagine was installed in this house. The villagers were more like her family and she loved them all dearly. But after tonight, she would spread her wings and fly away. Fly away from Damon Galanos forever. He would never hurt her again, she promised to her reflection. This was the end. She was done.
She heard the cars driving down the gravel drive and took a deep breath. Everything tonight had been planned out perfectly. Dinner was in the oven, the wine was “breathing” on the kitchen table and even dessert seemed somewhat celebratory. The staff had been given the night off, with very specific instructions not to return until tomorrow.
She even had her bags packed, anticipating that tonight would be the end of this farce of a marriage.
It wasn’t as if he would care, she thought. In fact, because it wasn’t one of the three normal times of the year when he visited, she suspected that Damon was going to suggest termination of their marriage as well. It would make sense. He’d never thought of her as his wife. She was simply a woman he’d married and who occupied this house. He barely even acknowledged her except to inquire about her days when he showed up, introduce her to his friends and then move into his own area of the villa. She had no idea why he was coming here tonight, but it was her night to get out of this golden cage and start to live!
Damon walked into the villa, dismissing his string of bodyguards. He had absolutely no idea why he was here. All he knew was that the last time he’d seen his little wife, she’d stuck in his mind and hadn’t left it. The skinny girl he’d married had blossomed and his wife’s lush, womanly figure had stayed in his mind. As had her dancing brown eyes and her bright, eager smile.
What was it about her that had dug into his subconscious so thoroughly? He’d been having disturbingly erotic dreams lately where all that dark, lovely hair was splayed out on the pillow underneath him while his hands and mouth explored her unexpected womanly curves. Never had he dreamed about the women in his life before the last time he’d been here. Women were mere toys, he’d always thought. His father had married too many of them, which was one of the prime reasons he had found himself married at the too-young age of twenty eight.
When he’d heard that his father had lost the villa and the waterfront properties to his last wife, and that they were in the hands of Demarkus Monetti, his anger had been almost palpable.
“Marry my granddaughter, and the villa is yours,” the vile man had threatened. Damon had been livid at the terms, but there had been no alternative but to give in to the man’s blackmail. The possibility of losing the villa, the home that had been in his family for centuries and was the symbol of power for the Galanos family empire, was unacceptable. It was a source of pride and losing it would allow his competitors to think he was weak. If there was one thing he would not allow, it was for anyone to think he was weak.
So why was he here now? Why had the lush curves of a woman gotten through to him? How had he not pushed her into the furthest recesses of his mind, as he’d done for the past six years, as he’d done with all of his mistresses when he needed to focus on business issues? No woman had ever broken through his merciless focus when it came to business.
Until now.
It wasn’t weakness, he told himself. His father had been weak about women. His mother had been weak about drinking, gambling, and having affairs with any man that propositioned her.
No, Damon accepted that it was simply time to settle down and start raising a family. And since he already had a wife, it was natural for him to turn to her, to come back to this villa where she’d been happily ensconced for six years. He would get her pregnant, wait for the baby to be born, then continue on his way. He had plans for his business. He’d already crushed the Monetti empire, reducing it to rubble. His wife’s grandfather had blackmailed Damon Galanos, and no one survived that kind of challenge to his power.
On the day that he’d accomplished that goal, he’d considered divorcing his wife. But in the end, it just hadn’t been worth his time and effort. Besides, she’d been a sweet, biddable little thing, completely innocent of her grandfather’s machinations. So he hadn’t bothered. Now he was glad that he hadn’t. He had a woman, willing and eager if her past actions were any indication, to be the perfect wife.
So where the hell was she? He glanced around, startled that she wasn’t running into his arms as she had so often in the past. Whenever he’d shown up, she’d always been excited to see him, to tell him whatever she’d learned, to share a meal with him and regale him with funny escapades of the various villagers’ lives.
The villa seemed strangely quiet. He looked around again, realizing that not even the servants were here.
What the hell?
“Sasha!” he called out, irritated by her absence. He’d grown used to her enthusiasm. And now that he was here, ready to start their marriage, she was gone? Impossible! His guards hadn’t told him that she’d left the villa. He would have known.
“I’m here,” Sasha called out, walking gracefully down the curving staircase.
Sasha stopped on the bottom stair, looking towards the man who was both her husband and a stranger. For six years, she’d been completely infatuated with this man. And she had to admit, he was quite the physical prize. Several inches over six feet of pure, raw masculinity. He was overpoweringly male, from his black hair and those strange, golden eyes to all of the muscles cleverly hidden by the expensive tailored suit. She didn’t mind admitting that the man literally took her breath away.
If only…
No, she stopped that thought quickly. Too many days and nights she’d spent trying to think of some way to get him to view her as a woman. Too many nights, she’d slept in the master bedroom, alone. And too many mornings, she’d flipped through the newspapers, finding her husband’s picture with another woman on his arm. She’d endured too much pain and humiliation because of this man’s arrogant negligence. No more. This was done!
“How was your flight?” she asked, forcing her feet to move again. She stopped several steps away from him and clasped her hands in front of her, waiting. For one more night, she would be patient, she told herself. And for one more night, she would feast her eyes on the one man who could make her literally weak in the knees. Never before her ridiculous farce of a wedding, and certainly not in the past six years, had she ever met a man as dynamically, amazingly gorgeous or one that affected every one of her senses like Damon Galanos could with a simple glance of those golden eyes.
“My flight?” he repeated, wondering why she wasn’t running into his arms. What had happened to her enthusiastic greetings?
And why the hell was he having trouble controlling his body’s response to his wife? She was wearing a black dress that covered her from her neck right down to her very sexy knees. Her arms were bare, but that was about all the skin he could see. So why was his body hardening to a throbbing ache while she simply stood there, watching him as if he were a guest in his own house?
“Yes. I assume you flew here, correct?” she asked, carefully trying to hide her sarcasm behind a pleasant façade.
Damon was getting angry now. She looked lovely and sophisticated and he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. That was his right, he told himself. So why was she standing there, almost mocking him?! “Yes. The flight was good. Thank you for asking.”
She smiled slightly and his eyes narrowed.
She picked up on his anger but didn’t understand it. What did he expect? He’d ignored her for six years! He wasn’t going to get the child he married. He was getting the woman she’d become. The woman he’d created through his callous treatment of her over the years. “Would you like a drink?” she asked with as calm a tone as possible.
Damon yanked at his tie. He’d like to lift her up and take her to bed, he thought. “Yes. A drink would be good, thank you.” He waited for her to rush over to the living room and pour him a drink. But she just stood there. Waiting.
He tossed his tie over a chair, slipping his suit jacket off as well. “Where is everyone?” he asked, walking into the living room himself. He lifted the decanter with amber liquid and poured it into one of the crystal glasses.
“I gave the servants the night off.”
His hand froze halfway to his mouth while his eyes snapped back to her. “Why in the world would you do that?” he demanded.
Sasha walked over to the bar as well, poured herself some of the same liquid. She took a sip before answering. “Because there was no need for them to be here. Chloe made dinner and it is warming in the oven. Danizia went home to her son and is probably pacing back and forth, wishing she were here instead since her son is teething. I sent Marco home because I knew that I wasn’t going anywhere tonight so I wouldn’t need a chauffeur. The gardeners all leave at five o’clock; the additional maids you seem to think are an absolute necessity went home around three o’clock because they are bored out of their mind.” She lifted her glass in the air. “But they all appreciate your patronage, Damon.” And she took a delicate sip of her drink before moving to sit down on one of the white, brocade chairs.
Damon watched with fascination as his wife settled herself into the chair, her knees locked together and her ankles crossed carefully. She rested her drink on her lap and lifted her eyes back to him, waiting for his response.
He realized that he was still holding his drink halfway to his mouth while he was mesmerized by the way his wife walked and sat on a chair. With a silent curse, he took a long sip of his drink…then sputtered as he realized that this was not his scotch.
“What the hell is this?” he demanded, looking into his glass as the sweet drink offended every one of his senses. “This is not the scotch that I prefer.”
Sasha couldn’t contain the laughter at his disgusted expression. She carefully covered her mouth, trying to suppress her amusement. “Of course it isn’t. It is amaretto.”
He stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Why did some idiot replace my scotch with amaretto?” he demanded.
“Well, I’m the idiot who replaced the liquid. The last time you were here, all of your friends drank the rest of the scotch. And since I wasn’t expecting you for another three months, and I don’t like scotch, I filled the decanter up with amaretto. That is what I drink. I saw no reason to fill it up with something that was imbibed so rarely when I prefer to have a drink each evening.”
There were so many parts of that little speech that offended him that he wasn’t sure where to start. “When did you start drinking?”
He watched with fascination as her beautiful brown eyes widened. “Oh goodness, years ago, Damon. I can’t give you an exact date.” But she could actually. It was the day she’d turned twenty-one. It was also the year that he’d come to take her out for her birthday the month before because he’d forgotten that her birthday was in April and not March.
“And why would you think that it was okay to replace my scotch with your…” he paused again, sniffing the liquid in his glass.
“It’s amaretto, Damon – almond liqueur. And I’ve already explained why I replaced it. As to why I thought it was okay,” she shrugged her shoulders delicately, “well, I did it several months ago, right after your last visit, and no one has complained. So I’m going with that as a very valid reason to dismiss the issue and move on to the next subject.”
Damon watched her, fascinated despite the rising temper he could feel brewing inside of him. He wasn’t sure if it was actually anger, or sexual frustration because she was still sitting on that too-large chair looking like an innocent angel, when he knew that she had lush curves that were completely hidden by that ridiculous dress. It was almost as if she were teasing him with that dress.
He snapped the glass down onto the table and looked behind the bar for his whiskey. When there wasn’t another bottle, he looked across the room towards her. “Where is my scotch?”
Sasha wiggled her lips, trying to suppress her laughter at his irritation. Goodness, one might think that the man never had to do anything for himself! “I suppose there is some in the pantry.”
Damon waited for her to jump up and get it for him. But when she simply stared right back at him, he got the message. Challenge accepted, my little wife, he thought.
Moving around the bar, he came to sit across from her. “What have you been up to?” he asked. His eyes raked over her figure and he realized that she wasn’t as unaffected as she’d like to appear. He could see her pulse beating rapidly at the base of her throat and her fingers didn’t lift the glass up to her lips because they were shaking. It was wise of her to be afraid of him, he thought. Very wise. “Nice pearls,” he commented. Then something occurred to him. “Where did you get them?” His secretary handled all of his jewelry purchases and she mentioned once that she generally bought two of everything, one for his mistress for whatever birthday or goodbye gift was needed, and one for his wife. Pearls would never be purchased for one of his mistresses, so he couldn’t figure out why his wife was wearing them.
Sasha’s hand went to her throat nervously. “Oh, these aren’t real,” she said softly.
His black eyebrows rose with that statement. “Why is my wife wearing fake jewelry? I would never purchase anything fake.”
Sasha set her glass carefully down on the coffee table in front of her. “Dinner is ready. Are you hungry?” she asked, trying to change the subject. She didn’t want to discuss his jewelry purchases. She had a drawer full of those purchases and she hated every single one of them.
“I’d rather find out why you’re wearing fake pearls, omorfia mou,” he said softly, but the threat was there.
Sasha stood up. “I bought these pearls because I thought they would look nice with the dress. I’m hungry,” she announced. “Let’s eat.”
And with that, she walked out of the living room, not even waiting to see if he would follow.
Sasha walked into the kitchen and slipped the oven mitts onto her hands. It took her only moments to pull out the casserole that Chloe had made earlier today. There was also freshly baked bread and a salad in the fridge. Chloe had wanted to make something special for dessert, and there had been no way to dissuade the kind housekeeper against that idea. Which was why there was an extravagant, beautifully decorated cake in the fridge next to the salad.
Sasha was hoping that there wouldn’t be any need for dessert. She figured that, by the time they’d both agreed to a divorce, or more accurately, an annulment since their marriage had never been consummated, then they could simply go their separate ways. She’d even moved her suitcases into the guest room so that he could finally have the master bedroom back. It was his house, after all. She had no right to be here. She’d never really been his wife. Sasha knew that she was only here so that he could retain ownership of the villa and the surrounding properties. She didn’t even understand why it had been so important. It was just a house. A lovely house, granted. But still, it was just a residence. She knew that he lived in grander houses in other countries so this was yet another mystery to her.
She set the casserole down on the wooden kitchen table, then went in search of Damon. As expected, she found him in the dining room, waiting to be served.
“I set the table in the kitchen,” she explained. “I usually eat in there. This room is only used…” she looked around at the ornately decorated room that had always felt oppressive to her, “well, when you and your friends are here. I can’t remember the last time I ate in here.”
Damon clenched his teeth. The wineglass he was holding almost snapped in his hands. “Are you telling me that my wife,” he put extra emphasis on that last word, “dines with the servants?”
Sasha clasped her hands together again. “Well of course! Who else am I going to dine with? I definitely don’t like eating alone!” She shook her head as if that made all the sense in the world. “This way,’ she told him.
Damon watched as his wife once again disappeared on him. He had to concede that she had a point about the eating arrangements. And a stab of guilt hit him as he realized that he’d never even considered what she might be doing here alone. It was an isolated village and it was a long drive to the next isolated village. There weren’t a whole lot of activities around here. That didn’t mean he wanted her to be socializing with the servants though. He’d have to speak with her about that. It wasn’t going to happen any longer. There were standards that had to be met as his wife. She needed to maintain an image and dining with servants definitely didn’t adhere to that image.
Perhaps it was time for her to come live with him in Athens or Rome. She might like those cities, he thought. He followed her through the swinging doors, his eyes taking in the kitchen for the first time. He’d never been in this room and he had to admit that it was warm and inviting. The smells of the dinner were more intense than in the dining room.
He set the bottle of wine down and handed her a glass, filling it up before he took the seat opposite her at the rough, wooden table. “I don’t like you eating with the servants,” he told her as he served himself the cheesy casserole. “It isn’t proper.”
Sasha’s melodic laughter hit him hard. He’d finally gotten his body somewhat under control, but that laughter, the musical sound of it, brought his body right back up to painful awareness of how much he wanted to ravish her body. He liked the way her red, full lips smiled and her brown eyes sparkled with her laughter. It was an enticing experience, hearing her laugh.
“Well, I guess you can have your opinion about that.”
She served herself a helping of the casserole as well, then pushed the bread over to him, offering the butter as well.
“You will dine in the dining room from this moment forward, Sasha,” he stated firmly as he lifted the butter knife to spread some butter onto his bread. He hadn’t buttered his own bread since boarding school he thought. It occurred to him how one becomes accustomed to certain things. Like bread already buttered or an excited wife.
“I don’t think so,” she said and sipped her wine. “I guess that brings up the subject that we really should discuss first.”
He looked across the table at her, stunned that she’d actually dismissed his command. “What subject? You disobeying me?”
She laughed again, shaking her head. “Damon, do you realize what a domineering man you can be at times?”
A black eyebrow lifted in question. “Only at times?” he asked, not really teasing but she took it that way and he was rewarded by more of her musical laughter.
She put her fork down carefully on the side of her plate. “I want to thank you for marrying me six years ago. If it weren’t for you, my mother would have died a horrible, painful death. With our wedding, she was able to slide away peacefully.”
Damon was startled by that news. “Your mother,” he repeated. What the hell had happened to her mother?
“Yes,” Sasha sighed. “So understand that I’m truly grateful. My grandfather was a horrible person. Well, you already know that. But in the end, she died without the horrors she could have experienced with only the medical care offered to the poor.”
Damon’s mind was whirling. Her mother had been poor? Why had her mother not been living in the lap of luxury? And why the hell was he only finding out about this now?
“So anyway,” she said and pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “She’s been gone for several years now and you’ve obviously gone on with your life,” she said, looking down at her uneaten dinner because those words made her almost physically sick. “I’d like to get on with mine.”
She looked up at him, trying to gauge his reaction to her words.
“What do you mean, I’ve gone on with my life? And when did your mother pass away?” he asked. His fork clattered to his plate because he needed answers more than food.
“She died of cancer three years ago,” Sasha explained, fighting the sadness that threatened every time she thought about her mother and the woman’s tender love. Her mother had done the best she could under difficult circumstances and Sasha would always love the memories she had of that gentle woman.
Damon scowled at his lovely wife, trying to fight the guilt he felt when he saw that she still had tears for her mother even though she’d apparently died several years ago. “Why didn’t you tell me that she’d died? I would have come here for the funeral.”
Sasha smiled, blinking back tears. “The funeral was in London over three years ago,” she said. “And at the time, your assistant told me that you were in Tokyo. It would have taken you over twelve hours to get back, so I didn’t want to bother you.”
Damon ran a hand over his face. “Sasha, you’re my wife! When something life altering like that happens, I want to be there for you.”
Her smile faltered slightly and her lashes lowered, her eyes moving from his handsome features to her untouched dinner. “We’re not really married, Damon.”
Those words only inflamed his already spiking temper. And even that was shocking because he never allowed his temper to get out of control. Not since boarding school had he ever even showed emotions. How could this slip of a girl…woman, he correct himself swiftly, get under his skin so quickly?
“Perhaps you would like to explain how we are not really married? I was there. I remember the minister. It certainly felt like a wedding ceremony to me.”
She laughed and put her hands under the table. “Yes, well, I suppose the wedding part was real enough. But,” she shrugged delicately, “nothing after that was real, was it?” She wasn’t really asking a question, she was stating that as fact.
“You’re my wife. Make no mistake about that.”
She pressed her lips together for a moment before responding. “About that, as I said earlier, everyone seems to have moved on with their life but me. And I would like that privilege as well.”
His mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that there was a man in her life that she’d like to “move on” with. “Are you seeing another man, Sasha?” he demanded with a voice so low that the menace could not be misunderstood.
Her eyes widened. “A man?” She laughed, wondering how he could even suggest that there was another man in her life. “For there to be another man in my life, Damon, I’d have to have one man. Since I don’t have a man, nor do I have another man, then the answer is an easy no. I definitely do not have a man in my life, much less another one.”
His eyes narrowed with her puzzle. “What the hell am I?” he asked.
She grimaced. “I characterize you as a very nice guest that flies through the house every few months. And it is always very exciting, but I need to move on. I have my degree now. And I would like to get a job, have a life. I’d like to get married and have children.”
Damon thought that he might just explode as her words hit him. “You are married. And if you want to have children, then that will happen. You only had to ask.” His voice was silky smooth now as he anticipated just such an event.
Sasha couldn’t believe what he was offering and her whole body tightened with his words. Have a baby…with Damon? Goodness, the thrill that shot through her at the idea of his strong hands on her body, of his mouth covering hers with a kiss. A real kiss, she thought. She’d experienced his peck on her lips during the wedding ceremony and he’d occasionally kissed her cheek during his fly through visits. But she’d often dreamed about what it would be like to truly be kissed by this man, to feel his mouth on hers.
She breathed in deeply, banishing such thoughts. “I meant with a real husband, Damon.”
He stared at her hard, daring her to deny him one more time. “We’re married. I’m your real husband.”
She smiled gently, trying to get through to him that she was not his wife. Not really. “No. You’re the man who stood next to me during a ceremony that allowed you to maintain possession of your family home. You’re not truly my husband.”
He had to give her that much at least. “Well, I’m here now. And I am ready to start a family. No time like the present,” he said. “Shall we?” he offered his hand.
She pulled back, horrified at his passé voice. “Excuse me?”
“I’m ready to have children, Sasha. You say you want a family, well, then we’re both in agreement.”
She shook her head, scooting her chair back to make more room between them. “We’re not having a family together!”
“You’re not having a family with anyone else, Sasha.”
Her mouth fell open and then she realized where she’d gone wrong. Taking a deep breath, she started over. Forcing her lips into a semblance of a smile, she squared her shoulders.
“I guess I’ve gone about this all wrong. I should have started off with stating that I think it is time that we file for divorce.”