Stranded with Her Greek Tycoon Read online

  ‘Whatever does or does not happen, I would be there for you. We’re a partnership.’

  He put his arm around her shoulder and they both sat looking out to sea. Silence hung between them. Slowly he became aware of the sounds of the small waves swishing on the beach, the wind rustling through the trees, chatter and laughter from the direction of the dock. He was aware of the sound of his own breathing, his heart thudding against his chest.

  ‘Why did you really come down here?’ he said. ‘Just to think or were you planning to take the boat to Nidri?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. Again he felt that kick to the gut so he felt like doubling over with the pain.

  ‘I felt like nothing had changed. After all we’d gone through, I’d be signing up for the same relationship that had ended in so much pain and regret,’ she said, her voice unsteady. ‘I thought my only option was to go through with the divorce. My plan was to leave the divorce papers in the room for you to find after I’d gone with a note asking you to sign and return them to the lawyer.’

  ‘I didn’t see any divorce papers there. Did you hide them somewhere or—?’

  ‘I didn’t leave them. And I didn’t ask for a place on the boat. I realised running away wasn’t going to solve anything—like it didn’t last time. It would have been a stupid, childish thing to do. And this time I didn’t have a depressive illness to blame my behaviour on. Difficult as I might find it, I had to do the grown-up thing and confront you. Talk about what we both expected from a reconciliation. See if we could make it work.’ She looked away. ‘Sorry, long speech.’

  ‘A speech I’m glad I heard. Glad you stuck around to deliver it. Although I would have followed you, you know. All the way to Sydney. I had no intention of letting you go again.’

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t make you chase me all that way.’ But the curve of her smile told him she was delighted that he would have done so. ‘I’ll look forward to us travelling back together and starting our new life.’

  ‘Do you have any more questions? Have I explained myself well enough?’

  ‘Very satisfactory answers. No more questions.’ Her voice hitched. ‘Because the main reason I didn’t leave was that I simply couldn’t bear to be away from you. Two mornings of waking up next to you made me know I wanted to be there with you for the rest of our lives.’ She sniffed.

  Cristos wished he could do the chivalrous thing men did in movies and offer her a big snowy white linen handkerchief. But the best he had to offer was an oil-soaked cloth from the boat, which he doubted would be appreciated so he left it in his pocket.

  She lifted her face to his. ‘Because I love you, Cristos. I never stopped loving you. I think I came to this island in the first place subconsciously hoping I might find you still loved me too.’

  ‘And you found I had never stopped loving you, not for a minute. I love you, Hayley. There has only ever been you. The years apart were torture for me. When I saw you at the church on Saturday I thought you’d come back to me. My spirits soared. When you talked divorce you drove me to my lowest point. I can only thank the forces of nature that conjured up a storm to keep you here until you changed your mind.’

  ‘Being with you is what changed my mind, not the weather,’ she said. ‘My wonderful, wonderful man.’

  A burst of cheering erupted from the people on the dock. Startled, Cristos looked up to see the boat they’d booked to pick up the guests was heading toward the dock.

  ‘Do you know why they’re so excited about going back?’ Hayley asked.

  ‘Because they’re sick of being trapped on the island?’

  ‘Because it’s Valentine’s Day. I’d forgotten.’

  ‘Of course, it’s February the fourteenth,’ he said. ‘Valentine’s Day is a big deal in Greece. The whole Cupid’s arrow thing started here. Only it belonged to Eros, the god of love in ancient Greek mythology. The ancient Romans called him Cupid. Greeks do like to get loved up on Valentine’s Day.’ He felt that arrow still in his heart, only now it would stay lodged there for the rest of his life. He would never, ever let Hayley go again.

  ‘So it’s a good day for a reconciliation?’ she said.

  ‘It’s an excellent day for a reconciliation. Because in Greece Valentine’s Day is not just about romantic love, it’s also about forgiveness. Will you forgive me, Hayley? Because without forgiveness, without letting go of the past, we won’t be able to go forward.’

  ‘Of course I forgive you. If you can forgive me for hiding from you. I didn’t realise how much I hurt you. And I guess I have to forgive myself for that.’

  ‘Clean slate, then?’ he said.

  She nodded. ‘I just want to be your wife again. No pretence. No secrets. I want you to be my husband again. Looking after me, but letting me look after you too.’

  ‘We can celebrate February the fourteenth each year as the anniversary of our new marriage.’

  ‘You mean we get to celebrate two anniversaries each year?’

  ‘Why not? Both days are special. And you get two lots of presents.’

  ‘What could there possibly be to complain about that?’ she said, laughing. ‘I love you, husband.’

  ‘I love you, wife.’

  He helped her up from the bench with an arm around her. ‘C’mon, koukla. Let’s go start our new life together.’

  EPILOGUE

  Fifteen months later

  HAYLEY STOOD OUTSIDE the little white chapel perched on the edge of a white limestone cliff on Kosmimo. The sea ahead of her was the most glorious turquoise imaginable, a lone sailboat tacking across the horizon. There wasn’t a cloud in the deep blue sky and the late spring sun glistened on the water and warmed her skin through her long white lace dress. The air was fresh with the tang of salt and the scent of the herbs that grew wild on the island.

  She and Cristos had just had their photo taken and were waiting for the photographer to organise the next one. Hayley turned to Cristos. ‘This is how I always imagined a Greek island to be.’

  ‘It’s good to be home,’ he said with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

  He lifted their four-month-old son, Damianos—named after Cristos’s father in the Greek tradition—to show him the view. ‘This is your heritage, ogios mou, my son—paradise.’ Their beautiful baby boy chuckled, which seemed the appropriate joyful response.

  She and Cristos had left Sydney behind them to come back to Europe, to be closer to their families. They were living in his apartment in Athens, but Hayley thought they would probably settle somewhere in London. She had worked right up to a month before the baby was born but wasn’t thinking of finding another engineering role until Damianos was at least a year old.

  Thankfully, her pregnancy had gone smoothly without a hint of depression except the brief burst of the hormonally induced ‘baby blues’ that had hit her a few days after the birth and had just as quickly disappeared.

  Cristos had been lovingly supportive all the way through and had been with her at the birth. They had both cried as he’d first held his son in his arms, and vowed to be a good father. The baby had black hair and blue eyes and promised to be every bit as handsome as the daddy who adored him.

  The last time she’d stood here was in the winter chill and she’d been an outsider. This time the visit to the chapel was for her and Cristos to renew their vows, have their marriage blessed and for the christening of their son.

  At last their respective families were getting the celebration they felt they had been cheated of by their hasty register office wedding. Hayley was dressed as a bride in a simple white dress of heavy lace with sweet-scented freesias and apple blossom twisted through her hair. Around her neck was a pendant of a single large tear-shaped sapphire surrounded by diamonds and set in platinum. She had refused to replace her original humble sapphire engagement ring that she cherished for something more elaborate befitting her multimillionaire
status. The necklace had been Cristos’s gift instead.

  The ceremony had gone without a hitch. Little Damianos had howled at being anointed with oil and immersed in water by the priest but had quickly recovered with cuddles from his female relatives, who fought to be the one to comfort him.

  He had even been well behaved through all the photos but, like his father, was beginning to grizzle. The photographer had better be quick with the final group photo before their precious baby erupted into hungry howls.

  ‘How many more photos, Lady in White?’ Cristos grumbled. ‘This is beginning to feel like work for me. Pose, smile, pose, smile. It’s taking me right back to my modelling days.’

  ‘Just this one final family shot,’ she said. ‘It will be worth it.’

  At last they were all assembled. She and Cristos stood at the centre with Damianos—who her mother insisted on calling Damian ‘as, after all, he is half English’—in his father’s arms. They were flanked by the baby’s godparents, Dell and Alex, with their two children; his doting Greek great-grandparents; his equally doting grandparents and aunt from England; and his great-aunt from Australia, who’d been so supportive of Hayley during her pregnancy and Damianos’s birth. Her family. She couldn’t imagine being happier—especially with the husband she loved more and more each day by her side.

  She smiled once more for the camera—she had unlimited smiles today, fuelled by the intense joy bubbling through her. The day brought back memories of her wedding in Durham, of her first visit to this island bearing documents for a divorce she’d never really wanted, but most of all of the perfectly wonderful times with her husband once they’d put the unhappy times behind them.

  Her tiny son continued to give his best gummy smiles to the camera. But abruptly he’d had enough. His little face screwed up and he wailed, a surprisingly loud sound for one so small.

  ‘He’s hungry. Hand him over to me,’ Hayley said to Cristos. She took the precious bundle into her arms. Her exquisite dress had been designed by a dressmaker friend of Penelope’s to suit a nursing mother. Now she and Cristos took their baby to a private spot at the back of the chapel so she could discreetly feed him.

  She sat with her baby making sweet little snuffling sounds and her husband’s protective arm around her. Cristos kissed her, a brief gentle kiss. ‘I have never felt happier, koukla,’ he said.

  ‘Me neither,’ she said. ‘This is the happiest day of my life. But then I thought yesterday was the happiest, and the day before that. And I know tomorrow will be even happier as it will be one more day with you.’

  He kissed her again. ‘Do you realise this now makes three anniversaries for us to celebrate each year?’

  ‘All the better to bind our little family together,’ she said.

  ‘Doesn’t the love we have for each other, for our son, do that?’

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ she said, looking up into his eyes and thinking again how incredibly blessed she was to be married to this man.

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Kandy Shepherd

  CONVENIENTLY WED TO THE GREEK

  GREEK TYCOON’S MISTLETOE PROPOSAL

  THE BRIDESMAID’S BABY BUMP

  CROWN PRINCE’S CHOSEN BRIDE

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from REUNITED WITH HER ITALIAN BILLIONAIRE by Nina Singh.

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  Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire

  by Nina Singh

  CHAPTER ONE

  SHE SHOULD HAVE known he would come.

  The dark, commanding man at her back door was the last person Brianna wanted to see. Though she should have guessed. Marco Dirici had a knack for showing up in her life unbidden and unwelcome.

  Brianna peeked through the side window again. She knew it was him. The voice had confirmed it. Still, she couldn’t help but wish that maybe if she looked again it would be someone else standing there.

  No such luck. It was definitely Marco, in the flesh. Not that she was surprised. He wasn’t the kind of man to stay away.

  Brianna looked down at the worn gray T-shirt she was wearing and swiped at the dark smudges under her eyes. Great. Six long months since she’d last seen him and he had to catch her on a morning when she looked her absolute worst.

  But what did it matter anyhow? She no longer cared what she looked like in front of Marco. Except that he was immaculate as usual. The leather jacket he wore brought out the black of his eyes. His dark hair fell over his forehead the way she remembered. It hadn’t been that long ago that she’d taken great pleasure in gently stroking that wayward lock off his face, only to have it fall forward again.

  “Brianna, open the door. I know you’re in there.” His voice sounded from the other side of the door, dripping with that sexy Italian accent that haunted her dreams.

  “Cara, open the door,” Marco repeated. “I don’t want to have to ring the bell. Little Enzo is probably still sleeping.”

  At the mention of her son, Brianna forgot all about her appearance and her apprehension. Two-year-old Lorenzo was the reason Marco was here.

  Slowly, she unlatched the lock and stepped aside to let her husband in.

  Marco brushed past her without so much as a glance.

  “What took you so long? I had to go around the back when you didn’t answer the front door.”

  She’d been in a deep sleep. Enzo had kept her up half the night refusing to go into his crib.

  He gave her a stern look when she didn’t answer. “I thought the little old lady across the street was going to come at me with a broom. I’m positive she thinks I’m here to commit some kind of crime.”

  Are you?

  Brianna shoved the door closed and turned to face him. “What in the world are you doing here?”

  “What do you think? I spoke to Nonna.”

  Of course. She should have never made that phone call to Marco’s grandmother. But Brianna had been truly desperate for some advice from someone else who loved and cared about Enzo.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she answered.

  “I grew tired of waiting for you to come to your senses,” he said. “And I missed my son. What did you expect me to do?”

  A small part of her wanted to hear that he’d missed her as well. But that was such a silly thought. He wanted nothing to do with her. He never really had. As she stood aching inside at seeing him again.


  If it was possible, he was even more handsome than she remembered. Those dark eyes she’d lost herself in so many times in the past were as deep as always. She couldn’t lose herself again. Not to this man. Not ever. She had given him too much of herself already.

  “I didn’t expect you to do anything.” She walked over to the baby monitor on the counter and turned it up, just to give herself something to do. “Only to respect my wishes and give Enzo and me the time we need.”

  “You’ve been gone for six months.”

  “Nothing has changed, Marco. You’ve wasted a trip across the world for no reason.”

  “You want a divorce, cara. I am not divorcing my child.”

  Brianna stiffened. “That’s not fair. You know that’s the last thing I want.”

  He let out a laugh which sounded far from amused. “Is that what you call hauling him thousands of miles away?”

  She took a deep breath. “Look, when I left I promised you we’d come to a fair agreement about visitation. Until we do that, you can’t just show up here unannounced. You can see him at designated times or not at all.”

  He was in front of her in an instant, hardly an inch of space separating them. “I don’t think so. You throw me crumbs and then have the nerve to threaten those measly bits. That I cannot allow you to do.”

  Brianna’s heart pounded. She had to stand up to him. “Don’t fight me on this, Marco. I need to make a clean break.”

  He took her hand in a gentle but firm grip. “I won’t let go of my son, Brianna.”

  Any hope she had that Marco might have changed over the past few months evaporated. “And I don’t want that either. I’m sorry you don’t understand.”

  He sighed and dropped her hand. “You’re right. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why your desire to cook for others in New York City overrides your desire to be my wife back in Italy. I certainly don’t understand why you needed to leave.”

  He was certainly right about that. He never did understand. “I had no choice.”

  “So you seem to believe.”