A traditions I wouldn’t be indulging in.

‘Do you plan on getting back into your helicopter and leaving me here?’

The carefully disguised hope in her voice threw me back to that day in my father’s office a month ago, when an agreement that bore all the hallmarks of blackmail had crash-landed into my life and threatened the Xenakis name and business. Did she really think she and her family could take financial advantage and then sail off into the sunset?

The silent vow I’d taken that day to ensure neither Calypso nor her father escaped unscathed resurged as I looked down into her face. A face struggling for composure and a body twitching nervously beneath my hand.

I pulled her closer, steadied her at her slight stumble, and lowered my lips to her ear.

‘It’s our wedding night, matia mou. How would it look if we didn’t stay under the same roof? Sleep in the same bed?’

My lips brushed the delicate shell of her ear and she shivered. A moment later wide, alluring eyes sought mine.

‘Sleep in the same bed? But you don’t even know me. What...what’s the rush?’

I opened my mouth to tell her there was no rush. That giving her my name was the final payment she and her family would extract from me. Instead I shrugged, noting absently that a part of me was enjoying this a little too much.

‘Other than ensuring there will be nothing to be held over my head when the whim takes your father? Are you suggesting a period of getting to know one another before we decide if we must consummate this marriage?’

She gave a little start. ‘If? Don’t you mean when?’ she whispered fiercely, her eyes wider, searching.

Again the words to answer, to state that this dance was as close as we would get for the duration of our agreement, remained unsaid on the tip of my tongue. If she believed I would further compound this debacle by gracing her bed, so be it. She would discover differently later.

Absurdly, the pleasure in that thought of delivering disappointment never arrived. Instead I was unarmed by a disturbing throbbing in my groin, by the temptation to take a different approach. To gather her closer, breathe in the alluring perfume that clung to her silken skin.

I did just that, nudging her close with a firm clasp on her lower back. And heard her sharp intake of breath.

Pulling back, I glanced at her pale face. ‘Are you all right?’

Her swift nod assured me that she was lying, and the wild darting of her gaze confirmed that belief.

‘Calypso?’

‘I... I’m fine. Just a little headache. That’s all.’

I frowned. ‘Then why are you touching your stomach?’

Her hand quickly relocated from her midriff to my shoulder, her smile little more than a grimace. ‘It’s nothing, I assure you.’

About to refute that assurance, I was forestalled by the end of the music and the applause that followed. And then by the arrival of Iona Petras.