The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Wife

Xandro managed a wry smile as he eased the Bentley into a street lined with exclusive real estate.

His home was a mansion situated high on a hill and bearing splendid views over the harbour. Purchased five years ago, he’d had it remodelled and refurbished, installed a live-in couple to manage the house and grounds…a luxury residence where he slept, worked and entertained.

Xandro Caramanis.

The man who had everything.

A worthy successor to his father.

Hard, ruthless…coveted by women, but attached to none.

Isn’t that how the tabloids depicted him?

A little over half an hour later, showered, shaved and attired in an evening suit, Xandro slid into the Bentley and headed towards the city.

Traffic had eased somewhat, making for a relatively smooth run to the inner-city hotel where tonight’s fundraising event was being held.

Valet parking, deferential recognition as he bypassed the lift and took the sweeping staircase to the mezzanine floor where fellow guests mingled and sipped champagne.

Pre-dinner drinks provided an excellent opportunity for committee members to work the room, ensuring guests were informed of the next upcoming event on the social calendar.

Muted music filtered through strategically placed speakers, providing a non-intrusive background for easy conversation.

The evening held the promise of yet another successful fundraising event, from which in this instance disadvantaged children would benefit.

Xandro let his gaze idly skim the room, observing his fellow guests in an unobtrusive manner, greeted and acknowledged several within his immediate vicinity…came full circle, then returned to linger on one young woman’s features.

Fine facial bone structure, a pretty mouth…He liked the way she held her head, the expressive movement of her hands. Ash-blonde hair swept high on her head in a style that made his fingers itch to release the pins holding its length in place.

Refined elegance from the top of her head to the tips of her delicate feet.

And slightly nervous, he detected idly, beneath the practised smile…and wondered why, when she was so well versed with the social scene.

Ilana…daughter of society maven Liliana and the late Henri Girard.

Attractive, slender and petite, in her late twenties, she possessed an aloof persona in the company of men…a quality that had earned her an ice maiden tag. With reason, or so rumour abounded…although the only known fact was her hastily cancelled nuptials to Grant Baxter on the eve of their wedding.

Two years on, she mixed and mingled with the city’s social glitterati in the company of her widowed mother.

Many men had attempted to date her, but to Xandro’s knowledge none had succeeded.

Impeccable background, charming manners and well versed in the social graces, Ilana Girard would, he’d decided, make an eminently suitable wife.

All that remained was to implement a starting point, begin the courtship…and put forward his proposal.

Xandro’s eyes narrowed slightly as Liliana Girard separated from her daughter’s side and began moving towards him.

‘Xandro. How lovely to see you here.’

‘Liliana.’ He took her outstretched hands in his, then lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips to her cheek.

‘If you’re alone this evening, perhaps you would care to join Ilana and me?’

Xandro inclined his head in silent acquiescence.

‘Thank you.’

He allowed Liliana to precede him, his gaze becoming deliberately enigmatic as he saw the moment Ilana sensed his approach. The imperceptible stillness in her stance, the slight lift of her head, like a fragile gazelle scenting danger.

Then the moment was gone, replaced by a practised smile as he drew close.

People-watching was an art-form, body language an acquired skill…both at which he was incredibly adept. ‘Xandro,’ Ilana managed with cool politeness, and silently damned the way her pulse kicked in to a faster beat.

There was something about him, an indefinable quality that raised the hairs at the back of her neck in silent warning…of what?

Tall, for even in four-inch stilettos she had to lift her head to look at him.

Attractive, Ilana accorded silently, in a leonine way, for the lighting accentuated his broad sculptured facial features, strong jaw-line and the enigmatic expression in his dark eyes.

His tailoring was impeccable and individually crafted, downplaying rather than emphasising his impressive breadth of shoulder.

Intensely masculine, he bore an aura of power that was uncontrived, yet only a fool would fail to detect the ruthlessness lurking beneath the surface.

‘Ilana.’

He made no attempt to touch her…so why did she harbour the instinctive feeling he was merely biding his time? It didn’t make sense.

‘I believe you’re sharing our table this evening.’ She was well versed in the art of social conversation and could converse in fluent Italian and French, thanks to a year spent in each country studying couture.

Yet in this man’s presence she had to consciously strive to present a certain façade. Aware, in some deep recess of her mind, that he saw straight through it.

His gaze remained steady. ‘Is that a problem?’

What would he do if she said…yes?

A polite smile curved her mouth. ‘It’ll be a pleasure to have you join us.’ And knew she lied.

‘One of the committee members has just signalled me,’ Liliana posed. ‘I won’t be long.’

For a moment Ilana felt bereft, and incredibly vulnerable. She could escape with good reason…excuse herself and drift towards another group of guests. Except it would be a copout, and a fruitless one, for she doubted such a move would fool Xandro in the slightest.

It was inevitable they’d cross paths. The Caramanis empire was a known benefactor of several charities, and gala events such as this evening’s fundraiser ensured Xandro’s presence, usually with a stunning female in tow.

Yet this was the third time in recent weeks he’d attended an evening function without a partner.

So who’s counting? a silent imp taunted…and she stilled the soft oath that rose and died in her throat.

The thought he might deliberately seek her out was laughable. She was his polar opposite, and besides, she was done with men. Had been for more than two years, and once bitten…