A Tale of Two Cousins (A Papaioannou Novel Book 3) Read online

  Fury rose inside me. I spun around on my heel just as the elevator pinged and two of the security men exited, each of them taking me by an arm. “You don’t have to do that—I’m leaving,” I snarled, fuming in silence while we rode down to the lobby. I kept my tongue behind my teeth until I got to the reception desk, when I stopped and said loudly, “I need to use your phone. It’s an emergency.”

  “I’m sorry, the phone is not available,” the woman who sat there said coolly.

  “It’s right there,” I said, pointing at it where it sat two feet away from me. Next to it were a couple of paper cups of lattes, a paperback book, and a magazine with a bare-breasted woman featured on the cover. Evidently the guards had a wide variety of reading materials. “I can see that it’s not in use. I just want to make a local call to my fiancé. He’s upstairs.”

  “The phone is not available,” the woman repeated, and with studied indifference turned to address one of the other security people.

  “Oh, for God’s sake—” I started to lean across to grab the receiver, but the guard behind me evidently interpreted the move as a potential attack, because he slammed me forward into the curved reception desk, scattering latte cups, magazines, and the paperback.

  Above me, the guard spoke harshly in Greek.

  “I don’t understand Greek,” I said, a bit breathless with the attack. Worse, I felt wetness soak into my chest. I prayed it was coffee, and not blood.

  The second guard pulled me upright while the woman at the desk made a face, said something that I was sure was quite cutting in Greek, and mopped up the latte that dripped down onto the lower part of the reception desk.

  Thirty seconds later, the guards dumped me outside with a warning that they would call the police if I returned. I looked down at my front. My lovely gold lace dress was soaked brown from my cleavage down to my groin.

  For a second or two, I felt like I was going to sit right down on the curb and cry, but Dmitri and Valentino were inside that blighted building, and by God, I was going to get in there, and read Patricia the riot act.

  A sudden flash to the side had me pausing in my act of vowing revenge. I turned and, to my horror, saw five people who had been lounging around on motorbikes suddenly charge toward me; two women were holding digital video cameras, while the other three had cameras hung around their neck, the kind with the big, phallic lenses.

  “Princess Juliane! What do you have to say about marrying one of Greece’s richest bachelors!” one of them called out as they formed a semicircle in front of me, the cameras snapping away wildly.

  “What?” How the hell had they found out about the wedding? I spun around and dashed to the lobby entrance of the building, but the guards stood at the door, scowling, obviously not about to let me return. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said hastily, ignoring the bright, blinding flashes as I tried to push my way through the paparazzi.

  “When’s the wedding?” one of the women asked.

  “Who’s dressing you for it?” another called.

  I turned in a circle, desperate to find my way out of the hellish nightmare. Someone shoved a small pocket recorder in my face, which I batted away.

  “Can you tell us how you met Dmitri Papaioannou?”

  “Have you cleared the marriage with the government of Beck?”

  “Let’s get a shot of you and Dmitri together—”

  I shoved past one of the women and ran down the street, mindless of the voices calling after me. I heard the roar of motorcycle engines and knew they were chasing me. I leaped across an intersection, the light against me, and almost got run down, the driver of the car leaning out of the window to lambaste me in Greek.

  The paparazzi were stuck in traffic at the intersection, but just as I dashed across yet another street, drawn to what looked to be a pedestrian zone, I saw one of them pull up onto the sidewalk and zip after me.

  I flung myself around a corner and, hesitating for just a second, raced into the open doorway of a restaurant, flattening myself against the wall when the light of the motorcycle grew on the pavement.

  Several people shouted at the driver as he slowly made his way down the red-tiled area, but he hadn’t looked into the restaurant where I’d taken refuge.

  Behind me, a man said something that I didn’t understand.

  “Hi. I’m so sorry to disturb your patrons,” I said, smiling at everyone who had glanced up from their meals. I hurried over the to the small reception desk, saying, “Do you have a phone I can use? I’ll pay for the call, and I swear it’s a local one, but it’s an emergency, and I really do need to make it.”

  In the end, I had to hand over half of my entire bankroll just to use the phone. I called Dmitri’s number, but it went straight to voice mail, no doubt because he was gearing up to parade down the catwalk.

  “Allowing all the women of Athens to ogle him, dammit. Well, Audrey will not win,” I spat out, dialing Harry’s number. I had almost given up hope that it would be answered, but a man’s voice said something abrupt in Greek.

  “Iakovos? It’s me, Thyra. I’ve been kicked out of the building.”

  “You’ve what?” He sighed, and I could have sworn I heard him say, “It’s Harry all over again—no, love, I wasn’t calling you. It’s Thyra.”

  Before I could ask him what was going on, Harry’s voice was there. “Thyra? What happened? Was it the light board going wonky? If that freaked you out, it’s safe to come back. They turned off the strobe lights, and one of the tech guys has the computer fired up again so that we can continue the auction.”

  “No, I don’t know anything about that. Patricia got me kicked out.”

  “She what? Yacky, stop it, I’m fine. No, you go watch Valentino and make sure he doesn’t try to bite anyone. He doesn’t seem to like Audrey. I’ll deal with Thyra’s situation.”

  “I’m sorry to saddle you with a situation,” I said, my adrenaline starting to fade, leaving me weary, and told her quickly what had happened.

  “Paparazzi and everything. How did they know you were there?”

  “I can give you one guess, but I assume you won’t need it,” I said sourly.

  “You’re probably right. I can’t believe ... oh, crap, they’re ready to start again. Where are you?”

  I gave her the address of the restaurant.

  “Stay there. I’ll send Mikos to pick you up. Your dress is ruined?”

  “Yes.” I looked down. The whole front of it was covered in brown latte. “If I knew where I was in relationship to your apartment—”

  “No, don’t go out. The paps are probably still out there. I’ll have Mikos swing you by the apartment, and you can grab Elena’s red dress.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but the vision rose in my mind of Patricia’s smug face. “That would be lovely. Harry, can you do me a big favor? Well, another one on top of everything else you’ve done.”

  “I’ll be there in two secs,” I heard her yell before she returned to the phone. “Sure, what?”

  “Put Dmitri on last. I’m going to bid for him, and I don’t have a lot of money.”

  Harry laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get him.”

  “Thanks, Harry. I’m going to like having you as a cousin-in-law.”

  “Likewise! OK, OK, I’m coming.”

  She clicked off, and I gave the manager, who was standing protectively in front of me, his phone.

  What happened in the following half hour was kind of a blur. Ten minutes after I hung up, a man pulled up to where I was hiding behind a collection of signs advertising shops, saying with a smile, “Hullo again, Thyra.”

  “Hi, Mikos.” Relief filled me at the sight of him.

  “Harry says you are in desperate need of a ride.”

  “I need that, and a lot more,” I said, sliding into the seat next to him, looking around for the photographers.

  “They’re two blocks over. Saw them as I came in. Hold on, I’m going to run that light.”
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  Six minutes later, I was in the apartment, Mrs. Avrabos waiting for me. “Come, come, I have the dress ready. Tsk, such pretty lace, too. I clean for you, all right?”

  “You don’t have to,” I said, yanking off my dress before I was even fully in the bedroom. Mrs. Avrabos fussed around while I tried on first the dress Harry had picked out, but it was too long. I went for a different dress, one that was two-piece sky blue, with a full skirt, and a top that was heavily embroidered on the front all the way up to a choker collar, leaving the back exposed.

  “I won’t be able to wear a bra with this, but what the hell. People will just have to live with the girls being free-range for one evening,” I said, sucking in my breath when Mrs. Avrabos hooked the skirt closed. Luckily, it had a couple of hooks along the waistband, allowing it to fit my more substantial self than the slimmer form of its owner.

  “Your hair?” Mrs. Avrabos asked, glancing at my ponytail.

  I thought for a minute, then twisted it around itself, using a few bobby pins to turn it into a quick updo.

  “That’s going to have to do,” I said, hurrying out, wearing the same shoes that I had on, because I didn’t want to take time to find a pair that went with the dress.

  “I texted Iakovos,” Mikos said when we were on the road again. I felt a driving sense of urgency, a need to get my revenge. More, I wanted to be there when Dmitri took the stage. He was mine, dammit, and I wanted everyone to know it. “He will make sure you get in.”

  “Thank you for all your help,” I told him. “I’m sure you had something else you wanted to do tonight.”

  He flashed me a grin right before he pulled to a stop in front of the building in question. I won’t say he broke actual laws getting there, but if he didn’t, it was a near thing. “It’s OK. Dmitri, he is a good friend. I’m glad to know you will be keeping him happy.”

  I pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaping out of the car. True to his word, Iakovos was at the door, the security guards suitably cowed behind him. The look on his face was grim as he gestured toward the elevators.

  I hurried past the guards, not bothering to give them so much as a glance. “I’m not too late, am I?”

  “No. Harry was stalling. But I don’t know how long she can do that, and I’ve been here for five minutes.”

  We were both silent during the ride up, but I noticed Iakovos had pulled out his phone and sent a text message before we made it to the top floor.

  The doors to the ballroom were open. I glared at the man who had previously refused to let me in, took a deep breath, and sailed into the ballroom, my head up.

  “—will be seeing the last bachelor in just a minute, but before we do, I wanted to thank you all for your contributions to the Children in Crisis fund. Oh, look!” Harry pointed to where I was marching across the floor, fire in my blood giving me courage where I would normally have none. “It’s Her Serene Highness Princess Juliane of Sonderburg-Beck. What a honor it is to have you, Your Serene Highness. And with that, I believe we can bring out our last bachelor, Dmitri Papaioannou. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you all about Dmitri.”

  Dmitri appeared at the back of the stage, casting a curious glance at Harry before strolling forward.

  People at the tables nearest the end of the catwalk scooted their chairs out of their way as I stalked forward, my eyes firmly affixed to the man who had so completely captured my heart. I saw him hesitate for a moment when he caught sight of me, a little frown of confusion pulling his brows together, but when I reached the end of the catwalk, I waved the wad of money I’d been holding.

  “Bidding is now open for Dmitri Papaioannou,” Harry said, watching me.

  “I bid twenty-seven euros,” I yelled, slapping down onto the stage all the money I had left to my name.

  “Sold to Her Serene Highness!” Harry called, banging down a gavel.

  Around us, there was the murmur of people who were not happy. A squawk from the left preceded a flurry of movement. I stared up at Dmitri, and smiled.

  He looked startled for a moment; then a slow answering smile curled his lips. He leaped off the catwalk, and pulled me into his arms. “And here I thought you didn’t want me enough to bid for me,” he murmured against my lips.

  Behind me, I could hear Audrey shouting to Harry that she hadn’t given them time to bid. Patricia’s voice joined the protest, but I didn’t pay any attention to anything but the man pressed against me.

  “I love you,” I told him, then nipped his bottom lip, and kissed the breath right out of his lungs.

  TWELVE

  “I have to give it to Harry,” I told Dmitri an hour and a half later, when I peeled Valentino’s harness off his body and gave him a scratch on all the spots that I knew were itchy. He head bonked my ankle twice, then strolled off to visit his facilities and food bowl. “She sure didn’t wilt under Patricia’s onslaught.”

  “Harry is an old hand dealing with her,” Dmitri agreed, checking his phone. “Ah, I see Alexis will be away tonight. Just in case you had any ideas about running naked through the atrium.”

  I turned to look at the atrium. Dmitri’s apartment was laid out with his bedroom, bathroom, and a small dressing room to the south side, while a kitchen opened into an atrium that spread over two floors. The upper part of it led out to a patio with stunning views of Athens and the Acropolis, and even had an infinity pool, which I hadn’t yet had time to try. Back on the main floor, the north side of the apartment was taken up with three more bedrooms (one of which Alexis used) and assorted utility rooms. Since Dmitri didn’t have a live-in housekeeper, I considered the idea of doing some form of a striptease for him, but in the end, I decided to simply pounce on him once he’d taken off his tux, and I’d gotten out of Elena’s dress without damaging it.

  “Now, let’s see what sorts of things I’m going to want you, my official charity slave, to do,” I said a short while later when we were both naked, and I was straddling his thighs. I spread my hands on his belly, enjoying the way his eyes glowed green with passion, and his breath hitched.

  “I am wholly and completely yours to do with as you will,” he said, his hands next to him. I wondered for a moment at that. Usually, he liked to touch me. I wondered if something was wrong.

  That’s when it hit me, a question that slammed into me with the force of a truck. Had Dmitri been embarrassed at the tiny amount of money that he’d been “sold” for? I froze for a moment while I thought that through in horrified realization: all the other bachelors had gone for thousands of euros, some in the tens of thousands.

  But not Dmitri. He raised all of twenty-seven euros.

  Worry, guilt, and shame made a hard little knot in my belly. I debated apologizing, but decided that since he was clearly anticipating me giving him pleasure tonight, that was the least I could do. “I guess we’ll use some of this massage oil you got,” I said, pouring a little into my hands, and rubbing them together to warm it up before I took his penis into my hands.

  “That would be ... oh, Christ, yes.” His head fell back, his hands clutching the sheets convulsively as I oiled up all the pertinent parts. He moaned when I worked up a rhythm that he liked, his hips moving along with my hands. And when I bent to take him in my mouth, he started speaking in Greek.

  I swirled my tongue, I stroked long, intricate patterns into him, and I did my damnedest to give him even a tiny fraction of the joy he always brought me, but after about fifteen minutes without him blasting off, I stopped. “Am I doing something wrong?” I asked, the horrible emotions in my belly holding me in an iron grip. Had my stupidity damaged our relationship? I couldn’t bear that. “You don’t seem to be enjoying this.”

  “I am, but I was actually going to ask the same thing of you. If you’re tired, we can do this another time.”

  Oh, God, I had ruined it. I’d broken our relationship. Normally when I touched him, he went up like flash paper, but now ...

  “I’m sorry if I’ve ... if I’m ... I’ll just go wash
this oil off my hands.” I was off him and into the bathroom before he could say anything. I bent over the sink, my hands on either side of it, staring down at the gray marble through blurring eyes. Dammit, I swore to myself, I would not cry. He’d notice if I did.

  “I have the feeling I’ve done something to upset you, but I’m not sure what it is. Please tell me, Princess.”

  Big, fat tears fell into the sink. “You haven’t done anything, Dmitri. I have. I’m so ashamed of myself, of my stupid need to prove to Audrey that she couldn’t have you. I didn’t think how ... how embarrassing that would be to you. All those people who saw me march in and win you for twenty-seven euros ... people you work with, and want to work with, and I let my damned pride get the better of me. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve never been ashamed of who I was before, but I am now. All those people know that my damned Serene Highness self only valued you to the tune of twenty-seven euros.”

  He stood behind me, not touching me, which made me feel a thousand times worse. I couldn’t even bring myself to look up from the sink, afraid of the pity or worse that I’d see in his eyes.

  “Your pride is definitely a thorn in my side,” he said, and I bit back a sob of anguish. Then his hands were on my arms, turning me around to face him, his thumb brushing away the tears. “But only because it won’t allow me to give you the sun and moon and stars, as I want to do.”

  I’d been staring at his Adam’s apple, but looked up to his eyes at the words. “But ... I shamed you—”

  “You did nothing of the kind. You gave me the highest compliment I’ve ever had.”

  “By making a fool of myself and dishonoring you?” I shook my head. “Everyone else raised so much money—”

  “And you bid everything you had. Every last euro. I know how hard your life has been, how even twenty-seven euros matters to you. The fact that you didn’t keep any of it back for yourself, or Valentino, but you gave it all makes me feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world to be marrying you in two days.”

  Could he be serious? My heart wanted so desperately to believe his words. “It’s just a fake marriage—”