Secrets of Cinderella’s Awakening by Sharon Kendrick
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEMANSIONROSEup before them. A monstrous monolith which dominated the land around and Leon could do nothing to prevent the shudder of distaste which ran down his spine. The last time he had seen this place he had been walking out with a rucksack and the predatory eyes of a frustrated woman burning into his back. Had Marnie detected the bitterness of his feelings and was it that which had prompted her to lay her fingers over his tensed biceps and to give it a soft squeeze? He swallowed. Did she realise what her touch could do to him? That sometimes she had the power to take some of the darkness away?
She was staring up at the multi-tiered concoction, her lips falling open as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
‘This is your home?’ she verified, but he shook his head in grim denial.
‘This is where I grew up and lived until the age of sixteen,’ he amended grimly. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Honestly?’
‘Are you ever anything but honest, Marnie?’
He saw her swallow. ‘I can’t imagine ever living somewhere this big,’ she whispered. ‘It looks more like a museum.’
Leon rang the bell and waited but there was no welcoming committee to greet them. No sign of his father. Instead, the door was opened by a housekeeper—a stranger to him, obviously. Her hooded gaze ran over them both with calculating precision, her greeting more formal than warm.
‘Kyrios Kanonidou has been making some last-minute adjustments before the ceremony and would like you to join him on the eastern terrace for a drink straight away,’ she announced. ‘If you would like to follow me, I will make sure your bags are taken up to your suite. Once your meeting with your father is finished, I will send one of the servants to accompany you there.’
Leon was about to inform the woman that he was in no need of any direction before reminding himself that he was here as a guest, not to stamp his mark or assert his ownership—which was non-existent anyway. And nothing ever stayed the same, he reminded himself—wasn’t that apparent with every step they took? As they walked through the wide corridors, he became aware of how much had changed.
The route was familiar, the décor was not. Within its ornate elaborate shell, the building had changed out of all recognition in the years since Leon had last been here. All traces of his childhood gone. It was as though he had never been there—his presence wiped clean. In some ways it felt liberating to acknowledge this break with the past, but it still came as a relief to step outside onto the sun-washed tiles of the eastern terrace. Lush lemon trees in pots adorned a space used mostly used for breakfast and morning coffee and which was currently deserted. A white balustrade framed the dark blue sea and there were steps leading down to a beach of silvery white sand.
‘Wow. What a view,’ said Marnie, her long blonde hair blowing lightly in the breeze.
He turned to look at her, remembering the first time he’d met her. Looking defiant and wounded as she lay on the sand—those stormy eyes and killer curves luring him into the most memorable sexual encounter of his life. Whoever would have thought that one day he would bring her here and she would stand overlooking the beach from where he used to take his morning swim? He realised how uniquely comfortable he felt in her company. ‘You’re ready to meet my father?’
‘I think so,’ she said, smoothing down her skirt. ‘Is he very intimidating?’
‘I’ll leave you to judge for yourself,’ said Leon, because suddenly Stavros was bearing down on them, sweeping onto the terrace accompanied by a small retinue of servants carrying trays covered with drinks and canapés. It had been a year since he’d last seen his father and, although he was definitely a little frailer, his posture was as upright as ever, resplendent in a fine wedding suit of silver-grey, a waxy white flower in his buttonhole. But Leon noticed as if for the first time how excess rather than age had carved out the deep ravines which made his features seem more ravaged than he remembered, and how the once-handsome face was now a pastiche of what it had once been. An unmistakable coldness flickered through his faded eyes as turned to survey his son, though Leon noticed how quickly he hid his reaction behind a pasted-on smile.
‘Leonidas! I was worried you might not make it in time,’ Stavros observed in perfect English as he made his way towards them.
‘I said I would be here—and here I am,’ replied Leon steadily. ‘I’d like you to meet Marnie. Marnie Porter. You remember, I told you about her?’
‘Ah, yes. The hairdresser.’ The octogenarian’s eyes narrowed. ‘I understand we missed your company at dinner last night because of your dedication to your job, Miss Porter? I am in awe of such a work ethic. My son must be, too—for I have never been permitted to meet any of his girlfriends before!’
There was no doubt that Stavros was being mischievous and Leon wondered how Marnie would react to his teasing. But she seemed in no need of token reassurance, her familiar determination emerging as a gritty smile as she shook hands with his father. ‘I’m delighted to meet you, Kyrios Kanonidou. Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sure you must have plenty to talk about with your son, so I’ll leave you to it.’ Diplomatically, she walked across the terrace to gaze out at sea, leaving the two men alone to converse.
Leon didn’t know what he had been expecting from this particular reunion, but it wasn’t the unedifying discussion which followed. At times his father seemed almost...jittery, while at others almost borderline aggressive as he spoke to his son in voluble Greek. Leon wondered if the reality of marriage to a woman so young was losing some of its allure as the wedding approached—if perhaps his child bride was more demanding than Stavros had anticipated. Was history going to cruelly repeat itself by giving him another predatory wife with a wandering eye? As the conversation ended, Leon was aware that the vague suspicion with which he had initially viewed this wedding invitation had been eclipsed by a quiet and simmering anger.
He saw Marnie’s eyes fixed on him as his father swept away with his entourage and as she came towards him he wished they could leave now. Board the luxury yacht which was moored and waiting in the marina in Phoinikas to take them to his house on the Thessaloniki coast. And although nothing was stopping them other than a misplaced sense of filial duty, Leon had given his word he would attend the ceremony and therefore he would do it, even if it was with gritted teeth.
‘So. How did that go?’ she questioned.
‘If you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it at the moment.’ His words were clipped and he saw from her reaction that she had interpreted this as a put-down, but the reality was that a manservant had appeared to take them to their suite and, once there, Marnie realised she had very little time to get changed.
His own dressing swiftly completed, Leon walked over to the window while he waited for her, and stared outside, but the sight which greeted him did little to quell the tide of cynicism rising up inside him. Below, against the glittering backdrop of the sea, stood a wedding arch with rows and rows of chairs before it. Long tables were covered with white drapery, their surfaces crowded with silver and crystal. On the other side of the terrace, a wooden dance floor had been erected with a small dais at the back—presumably to house the band. And there were flowers everywhere. He’d never seen so many flowers. There were even small posies sitting on each of the seats, presumably one for each of the guests, who he could see were starting to arrive in a flurry of finery.
Leon’s eyes narrowed. His father had insisted this would be a small and discreet ceremony. It certainly didn’t look that way from here.
He heard a sound behind him and the moment Marnie walked into the room all his disdain evaporated, a pulse thundering at his temple as he acknowledged her stunning transformation. She was wearing a simple full-length dress in a blue as vivid as the Grecian sky, which skimmed her luscious curves and emphasised the pale curtain of her hair. She looked young and firm and fresh and he felt the tug of something deep inside him. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this...
Her gaze was searching his face, as if she were trying to gauge his reaction. ‘I know this is slightly different,’ she said nervously, smoothing her palms over the material.
‘Turn around for me,’ he instructed silkily. ‘What happened to the red dress you were supposed to be wearing?’
Marnie nodded as she did as he asked, unable to allay her sudden rush of nerves and wondering if she’d been too headstrong in her choice as she faced him. ‘You would have preferred me to wear that instead? Do you mind?’
‘Are you crazy? Why would I mind? You look absolutely sensational, Marnie. You must know that.’
Did she? Marnie swallowed. She looked more like herself—that was for sure. Most of the clothes his fancy stylist had purchased were perfect, but the red dress had felt like a step too far. Despite his assurances that the outfits were modest it had seemed too clingy and too provocative and when she’d stared at herself in the mirror, her shocked breath had frozen in her throat—but she couldn’t possibly tell Leon the reason why.
Imagine his face if she did.
Imagine the dilemma he would face as a result of her disclosure—if he realised why it should disturb her so much.
It makes me look like my mother.
She’d used some of the money she’d been saving for Pansy to nip out from the salon with Hayley the following lunchtime to buy something different. Something more suited to a hairdresser’s salary—although Hayley had persuaded her to be a bit more daring than usual. But at least now she didn’t look a rich man’s mistress, because that wasn’t how she wanted Leon to remember her. Hadn’t she already decided this wedding was going to be their swansong and she was going to make a graceful exit from his life when they arrived back in London? Her mouth dried. Even though the thought of leaving him was making her heart want to shatter into a million pieces...
‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded. ‘Your face has gone as pale as milk. What is it that you say in England—as if someone had walked over your grave?’
The pound of her heart felt like guilt and Marnie scrabbled around to come up with a reasonable explanation, because what would be the point of coming here if she was going to spoil the event with all her fears about the future? ‘I guess meeting your dad was more nerve-racking than I’d anticipated and I’m wondering what on earth I’m going to say to the bride,’ she babbled. ‘You do realise she’s younger than I am?’
‘I think I’ve been quietly blocking out that fact,’ he offered drily. ‘Don’t worry about it, Marnie. Just be yourself.’
She wondered how she could be ‘herself’ when she wasn’t even sure she knew who that person was any more. Beneath her dress, she was still wearing some of the lingerie Leon had bought—which probably cost more than an entire month’s pay cheque. Yet if she was being brutally honest, didn’t she like the sensation of fine silk sliding over her skin? Sometimes she wondered what it was going to be like returning to ‘normal’ life when their affair was over—if she was going to find it a sobering comedown.
But her reservations were forgotten as he pulled her into his arms to graze his mouth over hers in a teasing kind of kiss. As his fingertips skimmed over her bottom, Marnie felt the inevitable ripple of desire and Leon must have felt it too because his hold on her tightened, his palms pressing against her buttocks.
‘Neh. You and me both,’ he murmured complicitly, his breath fanning her mouth. ‘If you must know, I’d like to fast-forward the next few hours because I can think of some far more enjoyable ways of spending a weekend in Greece.’
‘You want to go and visit some crumbling temples?’ she questioned innocently.
‘I want to take your panties off as quickly as possible but that will have to wait until later. Come on. Let’s go.’
He laced her fingers with his as they began to make their way through the maze-like property—and if Marnie was surprised at this unusually tactile display, she guessed it was because there was nobody around to see them. As they passed beneath elaborately painted ceilings and tall columns which emphasised the dizzying scale of the house, the touch of his skin felt electric. She told herself it didn’t mean anything—even if she was discovering how much she liked this languid gesture of possession which marked her out as Leon’s woman.
Which she wasn’t.
Get real, she reminded herself fiercely. That would imply some measure of permanence which has never been up for grabs. Your position in his life is short-lived and temporary.
And very soon it was going to be over.
And the moment they stepped outside, everything changed. An instant buzz zipped around the grounds as people spotted them and started to converge on them, or rather—on Leon. When he let go of her hand Marnie felt as though she’d lost her anchor. This was way more than a handful of guests, she thought desperately. She was completely alone in a bobbing sea of bodies but she forced herself to smile brightly and to nod as if she understood, even though everyone was speaking in Greek.
Suddenly Leon was back by her side, a glitter of fury icing his blue eyes as he touched his fingertips to her waist. ‘This place is like a damned circus,’ he hissed. ‘I feel like leaving right now.’
‘We can’t go yet. Come on, let’s go and sit down.’
The scent of the flowers was so strong it was cloying and as they walked towards their seats Marnie could see heads turning to watch them. Was that because Leon was just so outrageously handsome, with the sunlight turning his skin to bronze and making his eyes look bluer than the nearby sea? Or were they wondering why he’d brought this unknown woman from England as his guest, instead of leaving himself free to chat up one of the many gorgeous women here?
As they sat down a sudden silence descended on the congregation and, along with everyone else, Marnie turned to see Stavros standing in the doorway of the enormous mansion. To the sound of loud cheers, he began to almost sprint towards the wedding arch and Marnie couldn’t help thinking how sad it was. It was such an inappropriate speed for someone to make their way up the aisle and supposedly designed to imply that, despite his great age, he was still very fit.
The bride was fashionably late, her eye-popping figure revealed by a dress designed to do just that. The white satin gown was backless, plunging and split to the thigh—caressing every gym-honed curve of her incredible body. Despite her startling youth, she appeared to have had some work done on her face—either that or she’d had an allergic reaction to her lipstick.
Marnie had been to several weddings of questionable taste in her time, but surely you’d have to travel a long way to find one as awful as this. Her heart went out to Leon as his father kissed his new wife for much longer than was necessary. A man with waist-length hair who had been eyeing up the bride throughout the ceremony perched himself on a stool and started to croon a song to the newly-weds, even though he was obviously tone deaf.
And then, mercifully, it was over. Clouds of rose petals fluttered in the air as the couple turned towards the congregation and began to walk, arm in arm. Music began to be played—thankfully by some excellent bazooka players—and glasses of champagne were offered around.
But beside her Leon stood tense and unmoving, and as Marnie glanced up into his stony features, another feeling of concern flickered over her. ‘Are you okay?’
His smile was edged with grit. ‘It wasn’t the most palatable occasion of my life, but at least it’s over. I think we should have something to drink to celebrate that fact, don’t you?’
He handed her a goblet of champagne but it tasted vinegary and Marnie surreptitiously tipped it into a nearby plant pot while nobody was looking. But Leon was looking. She glanced up to find his gaze fixed on her and suddenly she was transported back to those times when the foster home insisted on giving her macaroni cheese and standing over her while she ate it, even though they knew it made her retch. Once she’d been caught hiding the cold lump of food in her handkerchief and the red marks on her knuckles from the resulting caning had taken days to disappear. She shifted uncomfortably on her high heels.
‘I didn’t mean to—’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ A wry smiled touched the edges of his lips. ‘It’s fine. I agree. The champagne leaves a lot to be desired. I wonder if my new stepmother had a hand in choosing it—she doesn’t exactly look like a woman of taste, does she?’
She followed the direction of his gaze to see that the newlyweds had taken to the floor for the first dance and the bride was strutting her stuff—seemingly oblivious to the presence of her new husband, who was jigging awkwardly by her side. It was excruciating to watch, but when the music came to an end and other couples started taking to the floor, Leon took the empty glass from Marnie’s suddenly nerveless fingers and put it down.
‘Come on, Marnie,’ he said. ‘Dance with me.’
Marnie glanced up at his stony features as they found a deserted space on the dance floor, thinking that there was a new brittleness about him all of a sudden. A sombreness which seemed to have settled over him like a dark mantle. She thought about the way his face had hardened when he’d been talking to his father on the terrace and she asked him again.
‘What did Stavros say to you back there?’
There was a pause before he answered. A pause which went on for so long that she wondered if he’d heard her question, or whether he was just blanking it. And when he began to speak, his words were edged with iron.
‘He thanked me for coming. He said it was important to him because it enhanced his reputation as a father, as well as giving my tacit seal of approval to the marriage. He also said he was pleased I’d done so well for myself, because all his money would be going to his new wife and her large and apparently impoverished family. Oh, and to my two stepbrothers, who have never done a day’s work in their lives.’
‘Oh, Leon.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t want your pity, Marnie,’ he said softly. ‘Just like I don’t want his damned money. I never did. That much hasn’t changed. I’m just not sure why he made such a damned fuss about me coming here, if all he wanted to do was to inform me of the terms of his will.’
She hesitated. ‘Maybe you being here means more to him than he’s letting on and he’s just being clumsy about expressing it.’
‘Please don’t go getting all sentimental on me.’
‘I can assure you I’m the last person who could ever be accused of being sentimental.’
But as his arms tightened around her waist, Marnie realised that maybe some of her old ideas did need revisiting. It was weird. She’d always been envious of people who hadn’t been poor, or who’d had a permanent home when they were growing up. And even more envious of those kids with parents, even if they weren’t happy—because at least divorced or separated parents were around. But Leon had described the atmosphere in this place as toxic and not much had changed. It seemed there was to be no fairy-tale ending. Even now, after all these years.
And hadn’t she wanted that to happen? Deep down, hadn’t she hoped that Leon’s icy heart might melt a bit, if he was successfully reunited with his father? And then what? That he’d suddenly realise he wanted more from their relationship than he’d previously imagined? Well, more fool her. Hope really did spring eternal.
She almost wished they weren’t dancing because it felt so poignant as she realised this was probably the first and last time they would ever dance like this. As they moved in time to the music, she could feel the strength radiating from his powerful body as he pulled her closer, even though from the corner of her eye she could see people watching them. Too many people, she thought fleetingly before another wave of physical reaction blotted out her reservations. She thought how perfectly their bodies fitted together, despite the fact that he was so tall and she was so short. As if they had been designed to match like this.
Her heart contracted. She was going to miss him. More than she could ever say. How long would it take to forget a man who was so unforgettable? She realised how naïve she had been in believing that having Leon teach her about sex might help in any future new relationship. How was that ever going to be possible when the thought of being in another man’s arms made her feel sick?
‘Do you want...do you want to go and circulate?’ she whispered, because now the dance was beginning to feel dangerously erotic. Her breasts were throbbing and tender and her skin was on fire. She could feel a silken tug at the juncture of her thighs as he tightened his hold on her and she swayed in his arms.
‘No, Marnie.’ His voice was uneven. ‘The only thing I want to circulate is you.’
But that wasn’t strictly true. Leon felt so turned on by having her in his arms like this that he could barely move. Against the musculature of his body her light weight and soft curves were tantalising, her subtle scent causing his heart to race like a train. With the tips of his fingers he began stroking her back, unable to resist touching her. He felt her instant shiver in response. He swallowed. It felt as though he were touching her bare skin and the provocation of that was making him grow hard. He thought her breasts seemed bigger than usual, as if they had expanded in the warmth of the Greek day. Or maybe the bodice of her dress could no longer defy gravity and contain their lush weight. He could feel her nipples getting tauter against his chest—and he buried his face in her hair, overcome by a sudden sensation which made him feel almost light-headed.
She was so different from any other woman he’d ever met and suddenly he found himself listing all the reasons why. She wasn’t pretending to feel things in order to impress him. She didn’t want his money and worked hard to pay her own way. She was here because she wanted to be and not because she wanted to be seen with him—indeed hadn’t she been noticeably uncomfortable when she’d seen the crush of people when they’d arrived? His billionaire status meant nothing to her—she had proved that over and over again. Was it possible that this woman—the most unlikely candidate of all—should make him rethink what he wanted from life?
‘Marnie,’ he said huskily.
‘Mmm?’ She dragged her head away from where it had been resting against his chest and looked up into his face.
Her eyes were wide and her lips utterly irresistible and something clenched deep inside his chest. Oblivious to the watching eyes and his usual restraint in public, he started to kiss her. And suddenly the world tipped on its axis. He could feel the tremble of her lips and heard the sigh of pleasure she gave as his tongue began to explore her mouth. Or was he confusing that sound with his own shuddered groan, as he revelled in the taste of her and found himself thinking that he’d never known anything quite so delicious as this kiss.
He knew he should stop what they were doing and move this upstairs to the bedroom, but for once his famously steely self-control was eluding him. What the hell did she do to him, that all his certainties suddenly seemed as insubstantial as dust? He was fired up by something he’d never felt before, something he couldn’t seem to evaluate. It was a feeling of excitement, tempered with calm. It was comfort and joy. It was anticipation and serenity—all spiced with a powerful sense of desire which pulsed through his veins like a fever. It was feeling as if he’d come home at last. Properly home. Not to a vast, cold mansion where he’d spent so much time alone, nor to any number of lonely luxury houses in enviable locations, but to a place of sanctuary which wasn’t defined by bricks and mortar but by the soft, giving woman he was holding.
He kissed her again. And again. And perhaps if he hadn’t been so captivated by her, he might have noticed the dark-clad figure moving stealthily around the edge of the dance floor. But he didn’t. He didn’t notice anything except the shining blonde in his arms.
