The Art of Wedding a Greek Billionaire (11 page)

Drake nodded, a deferential look falling on his face like someone who had received his orders. But when he walked past Mairi’s husband, he murmured, “Do not blame me when you’re the one neglecting your wife.”

Damen’s nostrils flared and he had to consciously hold himself back from answering. He would have taken a swing at the other man if he was not aware of the fact that practically everyone in today’s event still thought of him as someone made crazy and irresponsible by his “uncontrollable” libido.
 

Taking his place next to Mairi, Damen pulled his wife close to his side. He expected her to resist a little, but she didn’t. Smiling for the photographer, he bent down to say silkily in her ear, “You seem to have forgotten who you’re supposed to have your photos with, darling.”
 

Mairi waited for the photographer to take his first shot before looking up at Damen. Tension was evident on his face, making her reach up to caress his cheek. “Sorry,” she said penitently. Now that she had her husband’s complete attention, her resentment disappeared, along with the need to flirt with Drake.

The apology had Damen shooting a brooding look at his wife, whose moods as of late were unpredictable as hell. One moment she was acting like the perfect wife, the next moment she was acting like she couldn’t wait to leave him for Drake.
 

It was as if she was constantly trying to pick a fight with him, hoping he would one day tire of holding on to her.

But surely she had to know that that day would never come?

“Could you turn to your side, Mr. Leventis, and face your wife?” the photographer asked even as his finger continued hitting the shutter button.

Damen shifted sideways, and as his gaze took in Mairi’s profile, he couldn’t help noticing how she seemed to get lovelier each day. She was practically glowing. It should have been a good thing, if only a part of him didn’t think his wife’s blossoming looks had nothing to do with him at all.
 

Mairi tried not to fidget as she felt Damen’s hooded gaze linger on her. She tried not to think of what his thoughts were either. If she did, she had a feeling she would just get depressed.
 

How long
, Mairi asked herself silently,
would she be able to survive this kind of marriage?
Every night, Damen would tell her he loved her. But not once…not one damn instance could Mairi make herself believe him.
 

If only she could turn back time and be the same starry-eyed girl who had innocently dreamed of marrying a Greek billionaire. But she wasn’t that girl anymore, and she didn’t think she ever could be again.
 

Her heart had gotten smarter after being broken so many times. Now, it rejected every word, every touch, and every look that came from Damen that hinted of love. Now, her heart knew better. Now it knew the truth.

Damen’s honor and guilt might have made him believe he really did love Mairi, but he did not.

She wished he did, but he just did not. Maybe he never had.

“How about looking like you’re lost in love, Mrs. Leventis?”

The question startled Mairi back to consciousness.
 

Her inner turmoil leaving her a little raw, Mairi couldn’t make herself look at Damen. Instead, she searched for Drake in the room. In the two months she and Damen had been married, Drake had turned into her shield, everything about him serving as a reminder of how much she needed to be strong.

A steely glint flashed in Damen’s eyes when he saw his wife searching for Morrison. She needed to fucking look for Morrison in order to appear in love?

Jaw clenching, he reached for her, fingers curling around her nape. The moment she faced him, Damen captured her lips with a kiss. He had wanted the kiss to be a punishment and a warning, but the moment their lips met, his heart won over his jealousy and anger.

Soft. Tender. Gentle.

I love you.

Mairi willed herself not to cry. She had expected Damen’s inherent possessiveness to take over in his kiss, but instead she tasted something else. Something she didn’t want to name.
 

When Damen slowly ended the kiss, all they could do was look at each other.

The unspoken emotions in the couple’s eyes had the photographer swallowing. His fingers shook as he raised his camera to his eye and started clicking. It was as if nothing existed for Damen and Mairi Leventis, their love pristine and untouchable despite all the ugliness that surrounded them.

Did she know how much he started to hope whenever she looked at him like this? His hand lifted, the urge to possess her born from a need that came from his heart. “Do you need some more shots like that?” His fingers grazed her cheek as he spoke, Damen’s question was aimed at the photographer, but his gaze remaining on Mairi.

Her lips still tingling after Damen’s unexpected kiss, it took a second for Mairi to understand the import of Damen’s words. When she did, she blushed and stammered, “I think he’s got enough.” When Damen seemed prepared to argue, she sent him a pleading look. Dear God, didn’t he see that she was still trying to catch her breath?
 

The look Mairi darted towards him made Damen smile. He was about to tease her by asking for another kiss when his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket.

Since Mairi was standing right next to Damen, she, too, heard the buzz coming from his pocket. Paling at the sound, her whole body tensing, Mairi swallowed back an instinctive plea for Damen not to answer it. To not choose another woman over his own wife.
 

“I have everything I need,” the photographer was saying enthusiastically. “Thanks for the time. I’ll make sure you all look great and the piece that comes with the photos will be just as great.”

Mairi only half heard the photographer’s words since most of her attention was on Damen’s buzzing phone. Inherent courtesy had Mairi forcing herself to concentrate on the photographer. “Thank you, Mister—?”

“Guthrie, Mrs. Leventis. Eric Guthrie.” Eric found himself unexpectedly tongue-tied at the blinding smile that accompanied Mairi Tanner-Leventis’ words.
So this was what had captured the ex-billionaire’s heart
, he realized. Good, old-fashioned genuineness that none of the jaded supermodels and frivolous heiresses of the world could ever fake.
 

Her smile warm, Mairi shook hands with Eric, automatically slipping into her role as Damen’s #1 goodwill ambassador even as she couldn’t prevent her gaze from straying towards her husband. “Thank you so much, Eric. We appreciate your interest in sharing our side with the public.”

As she and Eric talked, four words kept echoing in her mind.

Please don’t answer it. Please don’t answer it.

Damen was talking to the photographer now. She watched as Damen and Eric shook hands, heart still in her throat.

Please don’t answer it. Please don’t answer—

When the photographer left, Damen turned around to face her, the smile on his face heartbreakingly dazzling. That smile easily summed up everything she loved about him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he was – or had once been – a Greek billionaire.

“The photographer’s infatuated with you,” Damen said in a low, half-teasing, half-exasperated voice.

Mairi managed a laugh. “I don’t think so.” His phone had stopped buzzing, and she allowed herself to start breathing again.

“Yes, he is. It’s making me rethink whether I should let you be interviewed alone—” Damen suddenly stopped speaking.
 

Mairi knew why. It was
that
sound again.
 

Please don’t answer it. Please don’t answer it.

If he did, there was no point staying with him. She loved Damen too much to force him to stay with her when it was obvious he already loved someone else.

The phone vibrating in his pocket was impossible to ignore. Biting back a curse but knowing there was no help for it, Damen turned back to Mairi, saying gruffly, “Could you excuse me? I need to take this call. I won’t be long at all.”

Mairi’s heart shattered, and it kept shattering into innumerable pieces even as she made herself smile. “No problem,” she said lightly. She started walking backwards, pride not letting her turn away and give her the chance to cry without being seen. She was done crying. She was done being weak. “I’ll just entertain myself with Drake instead.” They were great last words, but there was no thrill, no satisfaction, from saying them.
 

Not bothering to wait for Damen to reply, she spun around and headed straight to Drake, trying not to run as she did.
She had to get to Drake
, Mairi thought feverishly as she made her way past the players waiting for their turn. Drake would know what to do to make her…strong. Drake would know what to tell her so she could survive the pain spreading like cancer inside her body, a gnawing, clawing hurt that served as a reminder of how Damen couldn’t bear not talking to Alina even if his conscience dictated that he stay true to his marriage and the feelings he no longer had.

Damen watched his wife go, stunned immobile by Mairi’s words.
 

Entertain herself with Drake?
Had his wife just told him that she would be flirting with Drake while he was otherwise occupied?

Without another moment’s hesitation, Damen stalked after his wife. Everything was forgotten, everything made unimportant compared to the need to make Mairi realize one thing.
 

She belonged to Damen – and only Damen.

Mairi gasped when someone cupped her elbow from behind. The next thing she knew, she was being whirled around, her body slamming against Damen’s lean hard form.
 

When her startled gaze met his, Damen snarled down at her in a low, furious voice, “Where do you think you’re going?” But Damen didn’t give her a chance to reply, instead tightening his grip on her as he led her towards one of the unoccupied balconies.

Waiters balancing trays swerved out of his way, and a couple of guests almost tripped on their own feet in their effort to avoid Damen, who was bearing down on them like a charging knight.

“People are talking,” Mairi hissed.

“Let them talk.” Damen didn’t even bother to look around him.
 

Mairi tried to struggle out of his hold. “Let go of me.” She welcomed the anger rising inside her, knowing it would prevent her from succumbing to self-pity. The memory of Damen answering his phone – of choosing to talk to another woman while Mairi was right next to him – had her stomach hurting, forcing Mairi to lash out in her pain. “I want to go to Drake—”

Pain roared up inside him.

Maneuvering both of them into the balcony, Damen slammed the doors closed after them. A second later, he had Mairi imprisoned in his arms, his lips conquering hers.
 

Mairi tried her best to stay unresponsive, willing herself to be immune to the way his tongue moved inside her mouth. But it was impossible, and both of them knew it.

“Don’t ever say his fucking name again when you’re with me,” Damen muttered against Mairi’s lips before slowly pulling away.

Then don’t talk to Alina when you’re with me, either!
That was what she wanted to say. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. For suddenly, a terribly strong urge to retch had hit her, and with a cry Mairi pushed past Damen, rushing towards the aluminum waste basket in the corner.

The sick look on Mairi’s face had Damen taking after her with a curse, his jealousy forgotten as he held her hair back while Mairi bent down and threw up.
What the hell was wrong with her?
 

Another half-minute of retching followed before Mairi slowly straightened. Damen immediately took out his handkerchief, using it to carefully wipe her mouth. His worry intensified as he noticed Mairi’s pallor and the way her lip trembled.

“Are you ill?” The words burst out from him.
Theo,
please do not let her be ill.

Mairi weakly shook her head. Oh God, why this? Why? Just when she had decided to leave Damen, why this? Why now?

Damen demanded tautly, “Then what is it—”

Cutting him off, Mairi whispered, “I’m pregnant.” The truth crashed down on her as she spoke the words out loud. Oh God, everything made sense now. Why she always felt overly emotional, needy, and insecure.
 

Damen’s jaw dropped. He stared at Mairi incomprehensively, his mind still trying to cope with her revelation. Mairi was pregnant?