Greek Billionaire's Blackmailed Bride (The Rosso Family Series, #1) (2 page)

“No worries,” Brenna said. “Text me whenever you finally catch up with yourself and your sleep. And have some fun while you’re there. You’re twenty-four, and you need to know there’s more than work out there.”

Claire disconnected the call and headed for the door the driver held open. She left her bag on the sidewalk for him and he tossed it into the trunk. He got into the driver’s seat and took off so fast the whiplash pushed her back into the seat. The car smelled new and the driver seemed to know his way. She settled back and watched streets and buildings zip by.

Athens had changed since she’d been here as a student. She recognized the main landmarks—how could you miss the Acropolis?—but she was soon lost. The driver stopped before a modern building and she glanced up at it. “Aegis Studios?” she asked.

“Top floor,” he said. He jumped out and pulled out her luggage. “Your luggage will be waiting for you in the secure storage behind reception here.” He gave her a grin.

She shook her head but followed him inside. He gave her another grin and sauntered off with a whistle.

Glancing around she decided Aegis Studios was doing okay. Marble floors, more marble on the walls, dark wooden desks for security and reception. A guard nodded at her and led the way to a bank of elevators. He inserted a key into the elevator control, and a moment later the doors swished open.

Claire smiled at the man and stepped into the elevator. More luxury with thick carpet, mirrored walls, and all shiny brass trim that looked as if it had just been polished. “Will the director...?”

The elevator doors closed, cutting off her question. She let out a breath and rubbed her palms to smooth down her dark blue skirt.

In deference to the high humidity she’d known would be ever present, she’d changed after her flight in the airport bathroom into a light linen blouse in a pale yellow and a cotton-blend skirt. The bright yellow gave her skin a healthy glow, making it appear as if she had been spending time in the sun, when in fact she had been holed up inside her apartment for months.

Her skirt ended a few inches above her knees and the fabric was guaranteed not to wrinkle. She checked her makeup and hair in the mirrored wall of the elevator. She wore her hair long and straight these days, but Greece’s weather was already curling the ends.

She stared at herself and smiled.
You’ve got the job already. Remember, just be yourself, smile, and for heaven’s sake – if they don’t speak good English ask for an interpreter! You don’t want there to be any misunderstandings.

Misunderstandings—the story of her life.

The elevator pinged, the doors opened and Claire clutched her purse strap and thought,
wow
.

Crystal chandeliers adorned the ceiling, casting their reflection on the marble flooring in front of the elevator. That gave way to a plush, deep blue carpet that extended the length of the hallway in either direction.

She headed to the main doors, which stood open.

The room seemed to be a large conference room. An impossibly long, highly polished wood table occupied the middle of the room with high-backed, leather chairs. Windows lined one wall, looking out over the city, and she could see the blue of the ocean in the distance. A man stood in front of the windows, hands in his pockets and his back to her. He had on a white, button-down shirt, charcoal trousers, and what looked to be Italian loafers.

She blinked, but it couldn’t be. A lot of men in Greece had that curly, black hair—and so what if his shoulders were broad and his back lean.

And then he turned.

Antonio Rosso stared at her, cool as ever, his expression calculating and calm—just as it had been the last time she’d seen him. When his father had taken her apart.
Heartless bastard!

Claire took a step backwards. She lifted her hand to her throat. She couldn’t mistake that face—and those icy blue eyes. “What’s going on here?” she asked, hating how her voice had gone all husky and soft. “I’m here to meet Nick Stavos, not you.”

“No, you’re here to meet me.” He held out a hand. “Welcome to Aegis Studios—it was a new acquisition for my father, but now it seems to be mine.”

S
he stood there, staring at his outstretched hand. Face warming, Antonio stuffed his hands back into his pants pockets. He’d thought he’d been prepared to see her again, but that had changed the moment she stepped into the conference room. His pulse jumped and quickened. He forced himself to stay where he was near the windows. He could smell her scent—something spicy—and he didn’t dare move closer to her. He let his eyes skim over her. Her hair was longer, her body had more curves. She was no longer a girl—and judging by the clothes no longer a starving student.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” He pulled out a hand and waved to a chair.

“I don’t think so. Where’s Nick Stavos? I’m supposed to be meeting with him.” Her tone held a sharp demand.

“Well...about that—” Antonio watched the fire explode in her eyes.

“Is there even a documentary? A job for me?”

“There is. Stavos is filming.”

“But I can do the narration in post? He didn’t ask for me to come and narrate on scene.” She crossed her arms. “What the hell is this?”

“I need to discuss something with you. I could have gone through my lawyer or your agent, or by phone, but I...this was something I needed to do in person?”

She lifted her eyebrows. “You have ten minutes and then I walk.”

Antonio’s face heated. He forced himself to move, to stride over to the counter where a water pitcher sat with glasses. He poured one for himself and one for Claire—not that she would take that from him. No, she’d made it clear the last time they’d parted that she really wanted nothing from him.

“My father. He is dead.”

Her eyes softened a fraction—or he thought they did. “I’m sorry—not for him, but for you. I know you were close. Wasn’t that part of the problem?”

He ignored her words and said, “He left you a villa...here in Greece.”

Claire stared at him. “Why would he...? Why that manipulating bastard! After all the names he called me! Okay, what are the strings? Your dad always had conditions and strings and...and—”

“I think he was trying to make amends.”

“A little late for that. Well, I don’t want it.”

“Good, then you can sell it back to me. I’ll have my lawyer draw—”

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t want it, or anything to do with your family. Your father called me a gold digger, as well as a few other choice names. He tore me to shreds. And you stood there and let him. You made it clear we had our fun for a few days and we were done. And done is done. The villa can go to charity. There must be an orphanage that needs extra space, or a—”

“It’s not that easy.” Antonio let out a breath. Gesturing toward a chair, he told her, “Please, have a seat. Have some water. We really must discuss this.”

“No. Look, I’m here to do voice over work. If there’s no work, I’m gone.”

“There is work.” He turned and looked out the windows for a moment. He had known this would not be easy. But now, faced with Claire, he also knew he needed to make amends as well. His father had been the trouble maker between them, but Claire was right. He had also had a part to play. And now...now here he was doing what his father had tried to manipulate—because he must. He could curse his father, but he still had to act. He at least had that much honor in him. And he needed to keep his mother’s villa and her grave in the family.

Facing Claire again, he told her, “My father left you my mother’s villa—and his will requires me to marry. I think he wanted to force us to marry.”

C
laire’s mouth fell open. She snapped it closed. Now she wished she had taken that offer of a chair. She gripped the back of one. “You can’t be serious?”

“I am completely serious. My father passed away last month. Matthias was a hard man to get along with—you know that. But his will made it clear that he had something to make amends for, and he placed conditions upon me inheriting.”

“The condition being that you marry? Isn’t that a little too Victorian?” Claire asked, still trying to get over the shock of hearing that Matthias Rosso was dead. She remembered him as a man with a booming voice, a large presence, and a cutting tongue. He’d told her she would make his son an excellent whore, but never a wife. The words still stung. She shifted on her feet. Yeah, Matthias Rosso had a lot to make up for, but so did his son. She stared at Antonio.

He was still too damn attractive with that curly dark hair, those electric eyes, and a body made for sin. She’d been a kid at the time, and he’d been her first serious crush—one that had also shaped the rest of her life. She’d been wary of rich guys ever since, and determined to make her own money. And she had. She had a great career, enough money now to easily tell Antonio to go to hell...and it seemed she had a villa.

She’d never met Antonio’s mother—she’d been dead for years when Claire had first met Antonio. She skidded away from the memory of their first meeting.

Antonio cleared his throat. “My father requires me to marry to inherit.”

Claire shook her head and let out a breath. “So you’re still jumping when he snaps the whip? I could almost feel sorry for you if you weren’t just like your dad.”

His mouth hardened. “He also left you Villa Livia—my mother’s villa. I wish it returned. If I marry you, the villa comes back into the family, so it is clear that is what Matthias intended.”

She gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not interested. As for the villa—give it to a good charity. In fact, I’ve been thinking of starting one, and maybe this is the perfect time to do just that.”

Antonio’s mouth flattened. She knew him well enough to know that her words had hit home with him. Well, good—it was about time he learned what it was like to be verbally beaten up and dumped on. Claire met his stare. “I guess you thought you could just snap your fingers and everyone around you would fall into line. Just like your dad.”

“I never dictated what you could do when we were together.”

“Together. We didn’t have enough time to be ‘together’.” She put air quotes around the word. “Your dad saw to that and I don’t recall you putting up much of a fuss about it.”

“How long are you going to hang onto what is past?”

“I don’t know—maybe forever.”

He stepped closer. She almost stepped back away from him. He loomed over her, but she didn’t want to give him any ground. She didn’t want to give him anything. She could smell his scent—something that had always been unique to him, a musky male aroma that set her heart pounding.

“You want to know why I let my father call you a whore? Why I didn’t argue? Pictures, my dear. Lots of pictures. My father handed them to me and I looked at you smiling and enjoying yourself in places where I had never taken you.”

“Your father was spying on me?” Claire asked incredulously.

“He hired a private investigator to check into your background. He was protecting the family.”

She gave a sharp laugh. “More like controlling his family. He didn’t think I was good enough—not rich enough. But now...you never got married to the girl he picked out for you, and so now he’s stuck with having to throw me your way again.”

Color stained Antonio’s cheeks. “I don’t know why Matthias did most of what he did. But...I’m prepared to pay you to get the villa back.”

“With what?” Claire smiled. She was starting to enjoy this. For once, she had the upper hand over the Rosso family. They’d treated her like dirt—well, now they could just treat her a little better. And get a lesson in kindness. “You don’t inherit until you marry—that’s what you said, Antonio. So either you have to find a girl really quick—and I bet you just love that idea—or you have no money to buy back your mother’s villa. That is...if I want to sell.”

Antonio brushed aside her words with a wave of his hand. “I’ve already spoken to my lawyers, and since the will doesn’t stipulate any time limit for how long the marriage must last, we will be able to divorce after one month.”

“So you plan to dump me after a month?” Claire asked with a raised brow.

“That is the length of time the marriage needs to last in order for it to be considered a legally binding marriage under Greek law.”

She threw her hands out wide. “Why on earth would you think I would agree to something like this?”

“I’ve already agreed to make it worth your while...”

“Meaning after you marry me, you’re rich enough to buy me off. You really think you can buy anything, don’t you? Well, Mr. Rosso, you can’t buy me! And I’ll let you know what I decide to do with the villa I own now.”

Turning, she strode out, her pulse fast and uneven and tears stinging her eyes. God, did she hate that man!

Claire stepped into the lobby and gulped down a breath. She grabbed her luggage from behind the reception desk and headed out the front door. The receptionist and the security guard just watched her. Outside, she glanced around. She had to be only a few miles from the downtown area. She could walk there and hail a cab and return to the airport.

Pulling her cell phone from her purse she dialed Brenna. When she heard Brenna’s voice, the words poured out. “Brenna, it was horrible. There is no voiceover job. Aegis Studios belong to Antonio Rosso. And he expects me to marry him!”

“What? Wait! Back up! Antonio Rosso is Aegis Studios?”

“Yes! And there is no job! Well, there is, but it’s typical narration in post. I don’t need to be here and Nick Stavos didn’t ask me to come to Greece to do the voiceover on site.”

“Okay...well, that sucks but...wait, did you say something about marrying someone?”

Claire started walking and poured out the story in halting, disjointed sentences. She’d started to wonder if she’d lost the call, but when she stopped to pull in a breath, Brenna’s voice came over the line. “Damn, girl. You seem to have a knack for complicating your life.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. To make matters worse, he’s not only still a jerk, he still...still—”

“Smokin’ hot?”