Irresistible Greeks: Unsuitable and Unforgettable: At His Majesty's Request / The Fallen Greek Bride / Forgiven but not Forgotten?

He shoved the image aside. “I would run my corporation,”

he said. He had a sudden image of sailing a ship around the world and wondered if he’d told the truth.

“Would you get married?” she asked, a strange tone to her voice.

“Yes,” he said, the answer almost surprising him. But in that little, warm hint of fantasy, there had been a wife. There had been kids. And it wasn’t hard to breathe. “Yes,” he said again.

“Hmm.” She turned and walked to the end of the terrace, resting her hands on the railing.

He followed her, standing behind her, watching the sea breeze tug wisps of hair from her updo, letting them fall around her neck. He wanted to brush them aside. To kiss her shoulder. Her neck. Not just because he wanted her, but to feel connected to her.

A deadly desire.

“Why do you do it?” she asked. “Why is this so important?”

She was asking for more honesty. For answers he wasn’t sure he had. “I … When my mother died things fell apart. And the one thing that seemed real, that seemed to matter, was Kyonos. It was the one thing I could fix. The one place I could … matter.”

As he spoke the words, he realized that they were true. That every change he’d made, every effort he’d put forth, had been not just about helping his country, but about finding new purpose for himself.

“What about you?” he asked, ready to shift the spotlight off of himself.

She didn’t speak for a long time. When she did, she spoke slowly, cautiously. “In this scenario, reality isn’t playing a part, right?”

“Right,” he said, voice rough. He waited for her next words, anticipated them like a man submerged beneath the waves anticipated breaking the surface, desperate to take a breath.

She lowered her head, her eyes on her hands. “I would be a wife. A mother …” Her voice broke on the last word. “And maybe I would still do this, or maybe not. I don’t know if I would … need it. But … I would be a mother.”

She pushed off from the railing. “Back to reality,” she said, trying to smile. Failing. “I’m going to bed.”

He nodded, watching as she walked past him.

I would be a mother.

There was something so sad, so defeated in the admission. It made his chest tighten, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. He’d never had someone else’s feelings inhabit his body in this way. But he was certain that’s what was happening. That the oppressive weight that had just invaded him was the same sadness that filled her.

Maybe Jessica wasn’t as happily divorced as she appeared to be. And maybe she wasn’t quite as hard as she appeared to be, either.

She was running interference for Stavros and his harem today, and she wasn’t all that thrilled about it. It was getting harder to chuck other women in his direction when she just wanted to throw herself at him.

Not happening, but still. She was so envious of her clients that she was developing a twitch.

And for heaven’s sake, she never should have said all that about being a mother. Should never have asked him what he wanted. Should never have tried to get to know him. Because it didn’t matter. It just didn’t. There was no point in suspending reality, even for a moment.

There was no escaping reality. You couldn’t outrun it. You could try but eventually it would bite you in the ass. She knew that. She knew it really, really well. She’d tried to ignore how often she and her husband went to their separate corners of the house. She’d tried to ignore his touch at night, and when she couldn’t, she tried to ignore his total disregard for her pain. She’d even tried to ignore his outright berating of her. The screaming and anger and hateful words.

No, there was no point in ignoring that kind of thing. The facts were simple. Stavros needed certain things, she didn’t have any of them.

Why was she even thinking about that crap? She didn’t have time for it. She had a gaggle of women to manage for the whole day.

She blew out a breath and slipped her oversize sunglasses onto her face, tightening her hold on her latte. She had gotten them all booked into a luxury salon in Piraeus, and they were all safely getting massaged and waxed as she stood out on the crowded, narrow streets drinking her coffee.

Stavros was coming soon. He was meeting the group of them for a quick lunch and tour around the city, and then he would be selecting the woman who would accompany him on a private date for the evening.

And it would be up to Jessica to send the other two off without making them feel like it really was some low-rent reality television show.

Jessica wasn’t used to feeling like things were out of her control. Not since that moment four years ago when she’d taken back the reins of her life. She liked to feel like she had everything managed. Like her little universe was in the palm of her hand.

It was an illusion, and she knew it, but she still liked it.

Since Stavros, she didn’t even have her illusion.

What was it about him that reminded her … that reminded her she was a woman? Not just on the surface, but really and truly. With a woman’s desires, no matter how hard life had tried to wring them out of her.

Oh, dear … right on time. The master of her rekindled sexual needs was striding toward her. Cream-colored jacket and trousers, shirt open at the collar. She did love a man who knew how to dress. A Mediterranean sex god with very expensive taste.

He also had two dark-suited members of security flanking him and discreetly parting the crowd so that His Majesty wouldn’t be jostled.

Not that Stavros ever behaved that way. He didn’t act like a spoiled prince who would be able to feel a pea through fifty mattresses, not even close. He acted like a man who carried the weight of a nation on his shoulders.

More than that, he acted like a man who intended to support the weight of that nation for the rest of his life. A man prepared to tailor his every decision to suit that responsibility.

“Hello, Jessica,” he said, a smile curving his lips.

“Prince Stavros,” she said, reverting because last night had gotten a bit too intimate and she had no desire to go there again. Well, that was a lie. She did want to go there again. But she couldn’t.

“Demoted, I see.”

“What?”

“Back to a title.”

“Oh …” Why did he have to notice all these little things about her? Why did he have to care at all? “Sorry.”

“How are things going?”

“Good. Great. Looking forward to you thinning the herd tonight.”

“You make it sound like there are a lot more than three.”

She sighed. “They feel like more than three. In my experience, the women haven’t been so catty. But then, I normally don’t do this with them in such close proximity to each other. I’ve also never tried to match a crown prince.”

He looked past her, into the spa. “Let’s leave them in there.”

“What?” She looked behind her.

“If we hurry, they won’t know I was here.”

She laughed. “You’re not serious.”