Gabriel! He was standing right there before her, as if he’d materialised out of thin air.
Her shaky grasp on the bottle slipped, but he caught it, as well as her hands, before it hit the ground.
He looked ten times more masculine and handsome than she’d remembered. Those ice-blue eyes burned into hers, warming her all the way through. A raspy shadow darkened his prominent jaw. She loved grazing her palm up the rough of his mid-morning beard.
Or rather she had loved doing that.
Nina wondered if her face showed even a tenth of her emotions. She wanted to run away, to beg him to stay. Tell him how desperately she wanted him to hold her.
But she didn’t need to ask. Gabriel’s strong arms wrapped around her and, still in shock, she didn’t resist when he drew her near.
“I remember it all,” he said against her ear as she trembled and he stroked her back. “As if every moment were logged in my brain beneath a magnifying glass. How you chew the end of your pencil when you pore over a crossword. How your foot taps when you listen to your favourite song. How you feel beneath me. Feel around me.”
Her voice pushed past the nerves knotted in her throat. “Gabriel…what are you doing here?”
He stepped back and found her gaze.
“Since you left I haven’t stopped asking myself whether I could truly keep you satisfied. Day and night, it pounded at my brain. I wanted to come to you, wanted you back, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of not measuring up.”
He inhaled and his gaze focused more. “Years ago, I vowed I would never be responsible for helping to create another broken home. Then, out of the blue, the answer came to me.”
Unable to help herself, she filed her fingers through the sides of his clean dark hair, wondering how she’d lived so long without his touch. Raw hope pushed like a fist against her chest, but she didn’t want to jump ahead. Didn’t want to hope too much.
“You wanted to discover who you were,” he went on, his voice intense and deep. “Let me tell you who you are to me. You’re the person I can face any battle with. You’re headstrong and beyond beautiful. You’re like no one I’ve ever known. Nina, you’re the woman I love and will love for ever. And I’m the man who prays you can forgive me for not realising that sooner and love me back.” He found her hands and clasped them to his chest, and that beautiful light she adored shone up in his eyes. “I want to help create a happy family. Our family. Nina, say you’ll marry me.”
She felt locked to the spot. The ocean and the sky and the kookaburra calls receded, until she was only aware of her throbbing heartbeat and the deep sincerity in his eyes. Over her clogged throat, she choked out what had played over in her mind these past weeks. He wasn’t the only one who’d been asking questions.
“Gabe, you said you didn’t want to get married.”
She didn’t want to believe it—didn’t want to think he’d be that cruel—but she had to know if this was another seduction game meant to get her back in his bed.
He tipped her chin up and gazed into her soul. “I was waiting for the right woman, and I can’t believe I almost let her go.” His arms went around her again. “I want to live the rest of my life with you. Have children together and be there for them every day. I want to sit and watch the sunrise with you fifty years from now. Tell me you want that too.” His brow lowered to rest upon hers. “Tell me you still feel the same way.”
Her chest squeezed until she could barely breathe. Of course she still loved him. Now that she’d fallen, she couldn’t imagine not loving him. He sounded so passionate, so focused, but there was something else she needed to say. The part of her that was weeping with happiness was telling her to keep quiet. She wanted to accept his proposal—she’d dreamed about it since the day they’d said goodbye—but she couldn’t simply push aside what she knew to be true.
“What about your life? Gabriel, I don’t want to live in a world of black-tie dinners every other night. I can’t be a real housewife.” She couldn’t be a rich kept woman, with too much time and money on her hands. After all she’d been through, that skin simply wouldn’t fit.
“Our life doesn’t have to be like that. We don’t have to have anyone or anything in our life we don’t want to have there. That obstacle’s not enough to keep us apart. Nothing is.” His determined eyes searched hers. “This connection is real. For ever. We’ll make it work. Believe it, Nina. Believe it the way I do and nothing else will matter.”
A flood of emotion bubbled up. She wanted to laugh. To cry. She choked out the words. “You really think so?”
“I love you…and I won’t let anything stand in our way.”
His head slanted over hers, and when their lips met and his masterful heat and confidence infused her she went to jelly and gave up her arguments. With all her heart, with everything she’d ever been and ever would be, she wanted this. Wanted him.
With tears spilling down her cheeks, she twined her arms around his neck and hitched back a happy sob as his lips reluctantly left hers.
There was supposed to be one special person in this world for everyone.
That’s why I’m here, she told herself, feeling the full depth of that truth. I’m here to love you. Not above and beyond everything else, but to strengthen and enrich everything else she was now and was destined to be.
“We’ll go straight to a store and pick out a ring,” he murmured, his voice thick with love and pride.
But as his eyes glistened into hers—so full of conviction and faith—she flexed her fingers into his shirt. “I’d rather go straight home and get reacquainted.”
“Why wait to get home?”
Without warning, he hoisted her up, a hand either side of her waist, and swung her around in a giddy, exhilarating circle. Alive with hope. Bursting with passion. Nina’s heart was so full she wanted all the world to know this kind of happiness.
They were laughing and out of breath by the time he folded down with her onto the wet sand. As a shallow wave washed in and scalloped around them, she lay over his chest and whispered, “I love you so much. I wanted to call you so much.”
His gaze roamed her face and he smiled. “I’m here now.”
“Do you think we were in love all those years ago?”
A playful frown pinched his brow. “You were only fourteen.”
“Juliet was fourteen.”
“I’m more interested in writing our own love story.”
He cradled her head, and Nina melted when his mouth claimed hers again.
As a rising swell of trust and passion consumed and lifted her up, in her heart Nina knew just three things:
The very best of her life had just begun…
She wished this kiss could last for ever…
And, as much as she loved this man—and she loved him to the infinite depths of her soul—Gabriel Turner Steele loved her more.
HIS MISTRESS FOR A MILLION
Trish Morey
About the Author
TRISH MOREY is an Australian who’s also spent time living and working in New Zealand and England. Now she’s settled with her husband and four young daughters in a special part of South Australia, surrounded by orchards and bushland, and visited by the occasional koala and kangaroo. With a lifelong love of reading, she penned her first book at the age of eleven, after which life, career, and a growing family kept her busy until once again she could indulge her desire to create characters and stories—this time in romance. Having her work published is a dream come true. Visit Trish at her website, www.trishmorey.com.
To the Maytoners, every one of you warm, generous and wise. This one’s for you, with thanks. xxx
CHAPTER ONE
REVENGE was sweet.
Andreas Xenides eyed the shabby building that proclaimed itself a hotel, its faded sign swinging violently in the bitter wind that carved its way down the canyon of the narrow London street.
How long had it taken to track down the man he knew to be inside? How many years? He shook his head, oblivious to the cold that had passers-by clutching at their collars or burrowing hands deeper into pockets. It didn’t matter how long. Not now that he had found him.
The cell phone in his pocket beeped and he growled in irritation His lawyer had agreed to call him if there was a problem with his plan proceeding. But one look at the caller ID and Andreas had the phone slipped back in his pocket in a moment. Nothing on Santorini was more important than what was happening here in London today, didn’t Petra know that?
The wind grew teeth before he was halfway across the street, another burst of sleet sending pedestrians scampering for cover to escape the gusty onslaught, the street a running watercolour of black and grey.
He mounted the hotel’s worn steps and tested the handle. Locked as he’d expected, a buzzer and rudimentary camera mounted at the side to admit only those with keys or reservations but he was in luck. A couple wearing matching tracksuits and money belts emerged, so disgusted with the weather that they barely looked his way. He was past them and following the handmade sign to the downstairs reception before they’d struggled into their waterproof jackets and slammed the door behind them.
Floorboards squeaked under the shoddy carpet and he had to duck his head as the stairs twisted back on themselves under the low ceiling. There was a radio crackling away somewhere in the distance and his nose twitched at a smell of decay no amount of bleach had been able to mask.