The Greek's Surprise Christmas Bride Read online

  EPILOGUE

  SIX YEARS LATER, Letty walked round her London home arm in arm with her mother to check that everything was in place for the important guest they were expecting. It was Christmas Eve and her grandfather, Isidore Livas, was coming to share the big day with them—and that was a development she could never have foreseen years earlier.

  ‘I think Isidore assumed that the mother of his son’s child was another disreputable druggie and downgraded all of us accordingly,’ Gillian opined, her thoughts in the same place about the older man’s coolness on first meeting Letty. ‘Once he met me, once he realised how young I was when I gave birth to you, he changed his tune...and then you had Kristo, and a great-grandchild was the perfect gift as far as he’s concerned.’

  ‘Yes, he is amazingly attached to Kristo,’ Letty conceded, racing across the hall to prevent her son from trying to climb one of the stuffed elves.

  At two years of age, Leo and Letty’s first child was a livewire, always into everything. George, elderly now, lay in his basket and feebly wagged his tail as they went past.

  ‘Kristo!’ Popi called as she came clattering down the stairs with Sybella on her heels. ‘Give Mummy some peace—’

  ‘Your brother doesn’t know the meaning of that word,’ Letty remarked, watching Popi—at the age of eleven very much a young lady now—impose order on her son. Sybella still loved to dress up and perform, and Letty couldn’t help wondering if she would eventually enter the entertainment world. Cosmo was a wannabe scientist, always doing little experiments and peering through a toy microscope.

  Embarrassing as it was for a doctor to admit, however, Kristo had been an unplanned surprise package in their lives. In the midst of changing contraception, Letty had discovered that she was pregnant and had thought that it could not have happened at a worse time because she had been facing her final exams. Now she felt guilty for having thought that because Kristo, so much Leo’s son, with his beautiful dark eyes and the Livas blond hair, had brought her and Leo so much joy. He had also brought Isidore hotfoot to London with a train set because apparently her unhappy Aunt Elexis was still having problems conceiving.

  ‘Come on, Kristo,’ Theon, a laidback and sturdy little boy, said to his kid brother with pity as the toddler pouted. ‘We’ll watch cartoons.’

  ‘They grow up so fast. You’ll probably be planning another soon, I imagine,’ Letty’s mother commented fondly.

  ‘Maybe next year,’ Letty responded with amusement because she lived a frantically busy life and, even six years after marrying Leo, she was still doing some form of training for her work as a GP, the hours she worked in the surgery being the best fit for their life.

  Of course, she couldn’t have achieved what she had without supportive staff and she knew she was blessed. Five children were a challenge but she wouldn’t have had it any other way because she and Leo revelled in the rough and tumble nature of their big family and the warm love that linked them all. Panos marrying her mother the previous year had only extended the family circle. It had taken much longer for the older couple to get together than her husband had believed it would, but Panos’s divorce from Katrina had been dragged out and bitterly contested. Still, Leo had spotted the first signs of mutual interest between Panos and Gillian far quicker than Letty had, but then that was classic Leo.

  He was shrewd, quick to size up people, even faster at guessing their next step, which was probably why everything he touched in business seemed to turn to gold. He had even recently got his father involved as a director in a project, pretty much, she surmised, to ensure the older man could have a decent income without feeling it was charity. Her husband’s relationship with his father was now close and caring.

  ‘Why did you invite Isidore anyway?’ her mother asked.

  ‘I think he’s quite lonely. Elexis is a bit of a cold fish and doesn’t seem to visit him much.’

  They wandered into the games room where her half-brothers, Tim and Kyle, were playing video games. Tim was at university now, Kyle studying for GCSEs, both of them well-adjusted and hardworking. Letty often thought back to that very first day she had met Leo and all the very many positives which had flowed from their marriage. It was the icing on the cake that Leo adored her, supported her and still thought she was somehow special.

  For the first year of their marriage she had feared he would suddenly shake off such feelings and appreciate that she was really pretty ordinary but, mercifully, that hadn’t happened. Leo’s love had all the longevity she had craved, and she was incredibly happy with him.

  They spent a lot of the summer on the island of Ios, where the children enjoyed the kind of freedom they couldn’t safely have anywhere else. Kristo had been conceived on Ios at the beach cottage where they always went when they wanted to relax alone and he was named for Leo’s late grandfather, an honour that went with the proviso that Leo promised never ever to tell their son that marriage and sex were separate entities and mistresses were normal for a Romanos man.

  Leo breezed through the door, laden with parcels and bags, and was surrounded by children and even the dog, who made the effort to leave his basket for Leo’s benefit. He smiled at Gillian and asked if she and Panos were still joining them for dinner with Isidore that evening. ‘We need the support. He’s a chilly personality.’

  ‘But we’re working on him!’ Letty laughed, grabbing Leo’s hand as he deposited his bags on a bench seat. ‘Come here, you... I’ve missed you!’ she exclaimed, winding her arms round his neck.

  ‘We’re not under the mistletoe,’ Leo carped.

  ‘As if that would stop you!’ Letty told him as Gillian melted discreetly out of the front door, where her husband awaited her.

  ‘They’re being gross,’ Cosmo complained with an eight-year-old’s disgust for parents who larked about.

  ‘No, we’re taking our kisses upstairs,’ Leo declared, dragging Letty by the hand towards them.

  Popi said something sharp to Cosmo and an argument erupted but Letty still walked away, knowing that she needed stolen moments with Leo and that she had to take them when she could. ‘So, what’s in all the bags?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘Just a few last-minute purchases. I love buying you stuff because you never buy it for yourself.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Letty lifted a brow. ‘I bought a very expensive designer dress last week for that dinner you had.’

  ‘Yes...that’s what I mean. There has to be an excuse or a special occasion for you to spend, so I do it for you,’ Leo intoned with the greatest good cheer as he pulled a diamond pendant out of his pocket and proceeded to fasten it round her neck on the landing.

  The sizeable diamond glittered white fire below the lights and she reached up and kissed him, wondering where he thought she was going to wear it because she dressed very sensibly and simply for work and didn’t flash her opulent lifestyle.

  ‘You can wear it in bed,’ Leo told her as if she had spoken her thoughts out loud. ‘That’ll make you feel really decadent.’

  ‘No, it’s you who makes me feel decadent,’ Letty confessed, hauling him closer by his tie and reaching up for his mouth, all surging impatience and unhidden hunger for his touch.

  And Leo really loved that boldness of hers, the knowledge that she was as hot for him as he was for her and that these days she did make him a priority. They were kissing as they stumbled into their bedroom, madly, passionately kissing and heading in the general direction of the bed.

  ‘Golly...when’s Isidore arriving?’ she struggled to recall. ‘We can’t be in bed when—’

  ‘Yes, we can be. I’ll have the door shut in his face if he interrupts us,’ Leo asserted, gorgeous dark golden eyes welded to her flushed oval face.

  ‘That wouldn’t be very hospitable.’

  ‘If he comes between me and my wife, he’s unwelcome,’ Leo growled, spreading her back on the bed like a feast to be
savoured. ‘Because I love my wife.’

  ‘And you’re insanely oversexed!’

  Leo ran a lazy hand through her silky hair where it flowed across the pillows. ‘I haven’t heard you complaining,’ he commented with a blazing smile.

  ‘And I’m not,’ Letty confided, a fingertip tracing the line of his sensual mouth, loving confidence in her eyes. ‘You make me so happy, Leo. I love you so much.’

  * * *

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  The Queen’s Baby Scandal

  by Maisey Yates

  CHAPTER ONE

  QUEEN ASTRID VON BJORNLAND had never been to a club before. But she was reasonably familiar with the layout of the Ice Palace, nestled in the Italian Alps, hidden away from commoners and social riffraff—as defined by Mauro Bianchi, the billionaire owner of the establishment—in spite of the fact that it was a place she’d never before visited.

  She and Latika had done an intense amount of research on the subject prior to hatching their plan, and image searches of the facility itself had been involved. Though, the findings had been sparse.

  Mauro was intensely protective of the image of the club as exclusive. And the only photographs that existed were photographs that had been officially sanctioned by Mauro himself, and included only the main areas, and none of the VIP locations that the many articles Astrid had read stated were stationed throughout the club.

  Her palms were sweaty, but she knew that the invitation that she held in her hand was good enough.

  Latika had assured her of that. And Latika was never wrong.

  When Astrid had been looking to hire an assistant the year before her father had passed, she’d made discreet inquiries among the circle of dignitaries and royalty she knew, and Latika had appeared the next day. Polished, sleek and just a bit too good to be true.

  It hadn’t taken long for Astrid to realize Latika was hiding something.

  “I had to get away from my father. He’s a very rich man, and looking to consolidate that wealth by marrying me off to a man who is... He’s not a good man. I will need to stay out of the spotlight completely. So all of my work will be done quietly, efficiently and with me out of the picture.”

  That was all Astrid had needed to hear. She knew all about the looming specter of potential arranged marriages and overly controlling fathers.

  And so, she had hired Latika on the spot.

  She was a whiz of an assistant—and had become an even better friend, and ally—and able to conjure up near magic with the snap of her fingers. In this case, magic had included: an excuse for Astrid to go to Italy, a car rented on the sly, an extravagant and extravagantly skimpy designer dress, jewels and shoes, and a near impossible invitation to the party.

  And now Astrid was standing and waiting behind the thick velvet rope, in line, for entry.

  Astrid had never waited in a line before. Not once in her life.

  Astrid had never waited full stop.

  She had been born five minutes before her twin brother, Prince Gunnar, much to the dismay of her father and the entire house of nobility. And that had essentially set the tone for her entire life.

  A tone that had led to this particular plan, as dangerous, unlikely and foolhardy as it was.

  All of those adjectives had belonged to Latika. Who had scolded Astrid the entire time she had aided her in putting the plan together.

  Latika had many opinions, but none of them really mattered. Both in terms of what she would help Astrid accomplish, and in terms of what Astrid would choose to do. She would make happen whatever Astrid asked her to make happen. And that was the simple truth of it.

  Astrid tugged at the hem of her impossibly short white dress. It was daring, and nothing like she would wear in her real life, but that had been part of the plan.

  She could not look like Queen Astrid. If her brother found out, he would come down to the club and physically drag her out. Not to mention if any of the various government officials found out, they would do the same.

  But she was doing what had to be done to wrest control of her kingdom into her own hands. Control of her future.

  She would find other ways if need be, but this plan had come together with so much expert timing that Astrid was willing to chance it for several reasons.

  And, she had been willing to wear a gown that was essentially a suit jacket with nothing beneath it. The neckline gaped, showing curves and angles of her body she normally kept well hidden.

  Her red hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders, and she was wearing a single, long emerald on a chain, which swayed perilously between her cleavage and made her feel like she was drawing attention.

  Of course, if she wasn’t drawing attention to her cleavage, then she was calling attention to her legs, with that abbreviated hemline in the sky-high heels. And perhaps her rear, where she knew the white dress clung with a kind of saucy cheekiness. At least, that was what Latika had told her.

  But the final thing that Latika had said to her as she had dropped her in front of the queue for the club was that she absolutely had to be back out at the curb by two in the morning.

  The timing was essential, and if she missed the timing at all, not only could the plan be in jeopardy, but Latika’s job certainly would be. And by extension possibly Latika herself, given that her position at the palace had been insulation for her for the past three years.

  Astrid was the figurehead for her country. And she had power, it was true. But her father’s antiquated board, along with the elected government, had authority and if something was ever put to a vote, whether it be a member of staff or law, then Astrid would be outweighed. It would be thus, she had been assured, even if Gunnar had been made king. Even if he were not born five minutes after his sister.

  Though, Astrid was not convinced of this.

  And she had found a loophole. And that loophole was why she was here.

  It certainly had nothing to do with Mauro Bianchi. Not in the personal sense. She didn’t even know the man, after all. But she knew about him. Everyone did. A self-made billionaire who had risen up from abject poverty thanks to his grit and determination.

  In Astrid’s opinion, had this been the Middle Ages, he would have been a marauding conqueror. And as she was dealing with arcane laws more firmly in the Middle Ages than in the modern era, that had only made him all the more attractive to her as she set about hatching her plan.

  She took a step forward in line as all of the people shuffled upward, and she found herself facing a large, grim-looking bouncer with a pronounced scar running across the length of his face.

  She squared her shoulders, and then, change
d tactics. She arched her breasts outward instead, and rather than affecting her typical severe glance, she went with a pout, just as she and Latika had been practicing in her hotel room tonight before they had gone out.

  “Here is my invitation,” she said, somehow feeling like she hadn’t quite gotten down the simper that the other women in the line had thrown out when they had presented their invitations to the bouncer.

  But it didn’t matter. The invitation—while for a person who didn’t exist—was for the person she was playing, and it was legitimate.

  “Of course,” he said, looking her over, something he did in his gaze that Astrid had never had directed at her before. “Enjoy the party, Ms. Steele.”

  He kept the card firmly in his hand, and ushered her inside.

  It was a strange and wondrous place, some rooms carved entirely of ice, and requiring coats for entry, others fashioned of steel and glittering lights, everything fading into each other like a twisting, glittering paradise.

  Astrid had grown up surrounded by luxury. But it was not a modern luxury. Not in the least. It was velvet and drapes, gold and ornate wrought iron. Cold marble and granite.

  This was color, twisted metal and light. Fire and ice all melded together in an escape for the senses that verged on decadent.

  There was a dance floor that was suspended up above a carved icy chamber. It glittered and twisted, casting refracted light all around. Railings around the outside of the platform prevented the revelers from falling below. She had never seen anything quite like it.

  It was like something from a dream. Or a fairy tale.

  If fairy tales contained house music.

  And for the first time, a slight thrill went through her.

  She had come about this entire plan with the grimness of a general going to war.

  At least, that was what she had told herself. She had told herself that it had nothing to do with the fact that she wanted one night of freedom.

  Had told herself that Mauro Bianchi had not been her target because he was attractive. Because he had a reputation for showing women the kinds of pleasure that was normally found only in books. No.