Pollyanna and the Greek Billionaire (Innocent and Betrayed, Part 2) (2 page)

“I am. I’ve got the escape car ready, in case you change your mind,” Stavros deadpanned.

Kyr rolled his eyes. “I won’t change your mind, you bastard.”
 

And he won’t.

He won’t.

He adjusted his bowtie, the thought that he would be acquiring a wife in less than an hour suddenly creating a strangling pressure around his neck. The past few weeks streamed in his mind, none of them making him feel any better.

He remembered the day he had proposed to her, and yes, now he could see that he had been impulsive and had let his fears gotten the better of him.
 

But he also knew if he had to do it all over again, he would have.

She already meant too much to him, and to lose her would destroy him.

Stavros said behind him quietly, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t marry her.” His friend met his gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “But don’t you think this is all too fast?”

The words stayed with Kyr even when he was already inside the chapel, waiting with the rest of the wedding guests for the bride. Roses scented the air, the flowers lovingly selected by the Floros from their farm, while the lilting notes of Pachelbel’s
Canon in D Major
streamed down from the balcony, played live by a world-famous string quartet that Kyr had flown in specially for the occasion.

There’s still time to back out.

His jaw clenched.
Damn you, Stavros Manolis.
Best men weren’t supposed to play devil’s advocate at times like this.
 

But he couldn’t shake the words out—

Until the chapel doors opened and he saw her.

She stood between her parents, her face covered by a veil, and her body sheathed in a resplendent gown of silk and lace, its mermaid outline emphasizing her voluptuous curves. Even this far, he could sense her nervousness, which went well beyond trepidation. The stiff set of her shoulders, her too straight back, and the way she tightly gripped the arms of her parents as they started down the aisle—

She was frightened out of her wits,
Kyr realized grimly, and why the hell shouldn’t she be?

Their wedding had attracted the attention of the paparazzi, turning what should have been an intimate affair into a publicity circus. He had planned to get rid of all reporters and photographers but she had stopped him, telling Kyr that she didn’t mind their presence at all.

But her smile hadn’t reached her eyes, and she had been holding her breath while waiting for his answer. He had realized then that a part of her believed he didn’t want media coverage because he was ashamed of her.

And so against his better judgment, he had forced himself to tolerate their presence.

But right now, he wasn’t sure at all it had been the right thing to do.

If she had been jittery yesterday, she was worse off now, and Kyr was sure it had to do with all the negative things being said about her on social media. Some of his ex-lovers had spoken of less than flattering comments about her, and all of it had been happily gobbled up by the masses. There had even been a poll about whether their marriage would end with a happy-ever-after or a divorce, and an overwhelming majority had voted for the latter.

She had to have known all that and yet she had never uttered a single complaint, never voiced any doubts or accusations about how much her life had changed in the blink of an eye.

And all because he was too selfish to let her go.

Watching her slowly come to him, all his reservations melted away, leaving behind a grim resolve.
 

I will take care of you, psaraki.

I have sworn to make you the happiest girl in the world, and I will not break my word on our wedding day.

And so Kyr turned his back, gestured to his head of security and gave him quick instructions.
 

Curious at the sudden flurry of activity, Stavros couldn’t help raising a brow when he saw the item being handed to his friend.
What the hell was he doing with that?
But there was no time to ask because the bride had reached the end of the aisle, and after tearful embraces and kisses, the older Grahams were finally handing their daughter to the groom-to-be.

Kyr faced Pollyanna slowly.

And through the wisp of her veil, he saw her eyes widen, her lips parting and closing several times.
 

His favorite blowfish look
, he thought. That was a good omen. And when a tiny, choking laugh escaped her, he was absolutely certain he had made the right decision.

As Kyr took her hand and drew her close, Pollyanna asked him faintly, “Why in the world do you have my bag with you?”

The smile he gave her was dazzling, but it was his next words that made her knees go weak.
 

“Because from now on,” he told her solemnly, “it’s my job to look after you.”

Her eyes blurred. “
Oh, Kyr
.”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Is that your way of saying you’re deliriously happy that I’m going to be yours?”
 

It had become their private joke of sorts since she had accepted his proposal, Kyr warning her that if she backed out on their wedding, he would never be hers.

And let me tell you, I’m a pretty hot commodity,
the Greek billionaire had the gall to tell her.

The memory made her lips curve, but it also made her want to cry. When she raised her eyes to look at him, Kyr sucked his breath.
 

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m so happy,” she whispered with a tremulous smile. “Scared to death of doing something that will become a GIF, but more than that, I’m just so happy.” Before she was even finished speaking, Kyr was already rummaging through her big, old, tattered bag, and then he was taking out a pack of tissues.

She laughed even as she tried to sniff back her tears, unable to imagine what the world would think of the way the normally aloof billionaire was now wiping the tears from her eyes under her veil like a veteran P.A.

I love you,
she thought, and her heart sang. She closed her eyes, and all she could see was Kyr, and it felt right that it was so. Whatever happened, she knew this was what she was meant to do.

****

The press had a field day, taking photos of the sophisticated billionaire Kyrillos Gazis carrying an oversized and overused bag with him throughout the wedding and reception. It didn’t help his image at all that the reporters also took countless shots of him actually
using
the bag, too, supplying his bride with makeup to do touch-up, a comb to take care of loose strands, and her old iPhone when she had asked him shyly if they could take a selfie.

For the reception, two sets of tables were placed on the stage, one for the newlyweds and another for her parents as well as Kyr’s closest friends, Stavros Manolis and Damen Leventis.

A splendid twelve-course meal had been prepared for the guests, and at the end of it, the crowd – made raucous by the endless flow of champagne – cheered wildly when the newlyweds suddenly ducked under the table. Everyone thought the billionaire groom was giving his shy bride a kiss, but the truth was a lot less romantic.

Minutes ago, Polly had covered her mouth and whispered to him in panic,
I think I have something in my teeth.

She had looked so anxious that he told her,
‘Then floss it out.’
Reaching for her bag, which he was now convinced had everything to help someone survive a zombie apocalypse, he managed to find her floss kit and had handed it to her with flourish.

‘I just hope I don’t accidentally smile on my way to the rest room,’
she had said worriedly.

‘Well, just do it here then.’
And not waiting for her to reply, he had simply pulled her down so she could floss without being seen.

“Kyr!”

“What?” He looked at her calmly. “We’re husband and wife now. You can do anything and everything in front of me, you know.”

Oh, dear Lord, how her heart tripped on the way he referred to them as husband and wife so easily. “Well…if you think it’s okay…”
 

Her billionaire just looked at her, as if saying,
‘Get on with it.’

Grinning, she did as silently ordered, just as their guests suddenly started cheering, clapping, and tapping their glasses.

A bemused laugh escaped her. “What’s happening?”

 
“They probably think I’m kissing you here, out of your sight, to spare your blushes,” he guessed with a shrug.

She almost choked on her floss. “Really?”
 

“Mm…” He waited for her to finish her business, and when she had thrown the ball of tissue away, he pulled her face to him and kissed her deeply, his tongue seductively sliding inside her mouth. When he pulled away, her eyes were dazed, and he said modestly, “Just didn’t want their applause to go to waste.”

When they straightened back into their seats, the crowd took one look at the bride’s blushing face and hooted and laughed harder. She started to relax, but her relief was short-lived. She heard the host announcing that guests were now welcome to express their well wishes to the newlyweds, and her anxiety returned in full force.

Sensing her rising apprehension, Kyr strategically sought to divert her attention to something infinitely more pleasant.

As the first of their guests approached them, he curled an arm around her waist, found the slit of her skirt, and placed his hand on her naked thigh under the table.

His bride shot straight up in her seat like the Queen of England.

“I wish you the best in your marriage.” The words were spoken coolly, the art patron well-known for her acerbic dislike of stammering idiots, which most of today’s youth usually ended up being in her presence.

“Thank you, Mrs. Armitage,” Kyr responded smoothly even as he started stroking his bride’s silky smooth thigh.

The older woman turned to Polly, and she said overly brightly, “Thank you so much.”

Mrs. Armitage smiled back, surprised but pleased to see that the billionaire’s too-young bride wasn’t as immature and silly as she had feared. If the girl could survive talking to her, the girl could survive everything.

When the older woman left, Polly smiled and hissed, “Stop it,” without looking at her husband.

As their next guest approached them, she tried to push his hand away but stopped when Kyr leaned close, his hot breath caressing her ear as he whispered, “If you try to stop me, then I’ll start kissing you here and everyone will see you lose control.”

Oh, dear Lord.

Her hand fell away from his, and together they returned the well wishes of their second guest. When they were alone again, she muttered under her breath, “Meanie.”

“But at least I’m yours,” he countered smoothly.

She bit back a laugh, not wanting him to know how wonderful it felt to hear him say it.
Kyrillos Gazis was hers, and he knew it. He knew it!
She turned to him, stars in her eyes, thinking,
I must have married the sweetest man—

A couple approached their table, both famous Hollywood celebrities, and that same moment, Kyr’s hand moved dangerously up her thigh, his fingers tracing the lines of her lace panties.

I take it back,
she thought, her smile freezing on her lips.
I must have married the most sadistic man on the planet.

His hazel eyes gleamed back at her, as if saying he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Another couple approached, and Kyr’s fingers started to move inside her panties.

Oh. God.
She concentrated hard on what the couple was saying, her shyness forgotten as she desperately made sure nothing on her face or voice would clue anyone to what was happening.

And so it went on and on, Kyr displaying nerves of steel as he laughed and chatted with worldly charm while Pollyanna fought to hold on to her sanity. Her husband had pushed his panties to the side and was stroking her folds now, and it was all she could do not to moan. When he thrust three fingers inside her, all at the same time, Pollyanna wasn’t able to properly stifle her gasp, causing the couple in front of them to blink in surprise.