Revelations of His Runaway Bride Read online

  She was ready to flee

  Then passion beckoned.

  From the moment Thea Lambros is forced to walk down the aisle toward Christo Callas, her only thought is escape. After all, this reluctant bride is a mere pawn in her father’s dangerous game.

  But when coolly brilliant Christo interrupts her getaway, Thea meets her electrifying match. Pairing her resilient spirit with his unwavering strength, her new husband unleashes an unexpected fire within her. Thea feared she was trading one jailer for another. But what if Christo is the man to finally set this caged bird free?

  His hand was in her hair, the hardness contrasting with his gentle lips. And the seduction of it drizzled over her like honey, drowning her in its sticky sweetness. The dark, luscious kiss deepened and took her into the abyss. Her control shredded, ripped away as her body thrummed with primal need.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. Pulled him down. If she was to drown, he’d drown right with her. And as she fell into the intoxicating rhythm of their breaths and lips and tongues he pulled back.

  She gasped. Christo turned her around, his arms banding her waist, holding her upright because she’d fall if he didn’t. His lips were at her ear. When she looked in the mirror opposite, she saw herself. A wanton creature she didn’t recognize, with wild hair and passion-drugged eyes, red moist lips and chest heaving.

  “That—” he pointed to the mirror “—is what a woman who leaves my room looks like.”

  When Kali Anthony read her first romance novel at fourteen, she realized a few truths: there can never be too many happy endings, and one day she would write them herself. After marrying her own tall, dark and handsome hero in a perfect friends-to-lovers romance, Kali took the plunge and penned her first story. Writing has been a love affair ever since. If she isn’t battling her cat for access to the keyboard, you can find Kali playing dress-up in vintage clothes, gardening or bushwhacking with her husband and three children in the rain forests of South East Queensland.

  This is Kali Anthony’s debut book for Harlequin Presents—we hope that you enjoy it!

  Kali Anthony

  Revelations of His Runaway Bride

  To my mother, Dot.

  Wish you were here to enjoy the journey with me. You’d have loved the ride.

  Always in my heart.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM THE ITALIAN IN NEED OF AN HEIR BY LYNNE GRAHAM

  CHAPTER ONE

  THEA STRUGGLED IN the near darkness to tear free of the wedding dress she’d been forced to wear. The cursed laces of its bodice trussed her as tight as a chicken ready for roasting. She fumbled with the tangled bow at the small of her back, then stopped to steady her trembling fingers. Her breaths blew sharp and fast, and the cloying scent of citrus blossom from her bridal bouquet threatened to overwhelm her. No time for clumsiness. Tonight was about speed and execution. Because this plan—her only plan—allowed no room for failure.

  ‘It’s never going to work.’

  Thea faced the quavering voice. Sheathed in soft cream silk, her best friend huddled in a shadowy corner. The brim of an oversized hat swooped across her face.

  ‘We’ve been over this, Elena. It will.’

  It has to.

  There were no second chances. Outside, the hungry crowd and her husband waited. The man now entitled to all of her. Thea shuddered. He wouldn’t get her mind, her body or her soul. This was her moment to escape. Tonight she’d break free and show them all.

  ‘How do I look?’

  Elena moved into what dim light shone through a lavishly curtained window from the dreary alleyway beyond. She smoothed her hands over the front of the dress, which swirled barely above her knees. Demure. Perfect. The dress Thea should be changing into now.

  ‘Like more of a bride than I feel. Nobody will realise.’

  Till it was too late. Till she was gone.

  Everyone said she and Elena could pass as sisters, or as each other. And they regularly did—with laughable ease. Allowing Thea a shred of freedom otherwise denied her.

  Now all the years of planning her escape were over.

  She walked to her friend and held her in a tight hug. Elena’s body quaked in the embrace.

  ‘Thank you. For this. For everything,’ Thea said.

  Elena returned the hug, then pushed away, wiping at her eyes. ‘Let’s get you out of that wedding dress and away from here.’

  Thea turned and flinched as Elena’s frantic hands fought the laces which bound her.

  ‘Can we put on some lights?’ Elena whispered. ‘I can’t see to do this quickly.’

  ‘What if someone walks in? Like this, it’s hard to tell who’s who. Now, remember what I said?’

  Elena laughed. There was nothing cheerful about the sound. ‘Skirt the edges of the room. Keep the hat brim down. If anyone tries to talk to me pretend to cry and hide my face in a handkerchief like I’m overwrought by the sheer joy of this blessed marriage. Easy.’

  One final pull and the bodice fell free. But Thea wasn’t quite free yet. Her friend started on the laces of the corset.

  ‘No time!’ She wriggled away to search for the rest of her clothes. ‘And it will work. We’ve told everyone about the hat and dress I’m wearing to leave here. People will be looking out for that, not for me.’

  No one saw her. Sure, they saw her clothes, her jewels. Evidence of her father’s money when he decided to show her off like some prize pony. That’s why she and Elena were interchangeable. People were told about a sensational dress and hat and that was all they’d see—not the person wearing it.

  Because to her father’s friends she was nobody. A shadow who could slip away. And when somebody finally did notice, it would be too late.

  ‘But Christo...’

  Thea’s heart dropped a beat at the sound of his name. She licked the perspiration beading on her top lip.

  Christo Callas.

  My husband.

  No need for pretence now. Yet she’d slipped in those last moments. When Christo had lifted her veil. She’d looked into his unfathomable olive-tinged eyes and hadn’t been able to quell the serpent inside. The knowledge that she’d been forced into this marriage to save her half-brother Alexis. Potent emotion had coiled and then reared, begging her to strike out at the man who’d effectively bought her. And in that moment he’d hesitated. As if he knew.

  So she’d painted a sweet, soft smile on her face. Waited for the kiss which would transform her from Thea Lambros to Thea Callas. And, for all the horror of it, Christo’s lips had been warm and soft with something that had felt like understanding...

  No! She scrubbed at her mouth, smearing the shell-pink lipstick. Wiping away the strange tingling the memory had wrought.

  ‘Thea?’

  ‘Christo won’t notice either.’

  He didn’t understand her—hadn’t even tried.

  Thea thrust Elena the bridal bouquet which had lain wilting on a side table.

 
‘He’s not interested in me—only in what this marriage can do for him. One woman’s the same as another to men like that.’

  To Christo she was simply a commodity. Like she was to her father, who’d made it clear she must agree to the marriage as part of a business deal. If she didn’t, Alexis would go to jail.

  But now, with Alexis’s freedom bought, she could run. Extract herself from whatever questionable scheme her father had concocted. Her plan all along.

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Elena said.

  There was no time for doubts now. Thea stepped out of her dress and flung it into a dark corner, where it flopped like a discarded marshmallow. The suffocating corset could wait till she was safely hidden. She’d cut the damn thing off if she had to.

  ‘I fit the job description,’ she said, pulling on a practical black knit top. ‘A compliant bed-warmer.’

  Her blood ran hot with a furious roar. She knew her own worth—and it was not playing that role. Not for any man.

  Thea shrugged into a heavy leather jacket, then zipped and buckled the front. Earlier she’d hidden her jeans and boots under the ridiculous confection of a dress now deflating in the corner.

  It was almost time to go.

  Thea walked to Elena and took her hands. The chill of them shivered through her. ‘Are you sure you’ll be okay?’ She squeezed Elena’s fingers in reassurance. ‘I’m not asking too much?’

  Elena squeezed back. ‘You’re like my sister. What wouldn’t I do for you? And I can look after myself. Time to live your life. You’ve been caged long enough.’

  In the Lambros family cage.

  For most of her twenty-three years she’d only known one sibling. Demetri. A cruel thug disguised in civilised clothes. He’d always been her father’s enforcer, and Thea his first victim. Her father hadn’t cared. Not about the little girl who looked too much like her mother. The wife who’d had the temerity to leave him.

  No. Thea never wished to set eyes on Demetri or her father again. But Alexis...

  She pulled her phone from the pocket of her jeans. From the moment he’d inveigled himself into their home as her bodyguard two years earlier things had become almost bearable. His presence had kept her going. But since this morning he hadn’t responded to her texts.

  Elena frowned as Thea checked her phone. ‘Still no word?’

  ‘Nothing... But it’ll be okay.’

  Thea chewed her bottom lip till she tasted the tang of blood. Surely he’d left Athens? She rubbed at the ache in her chest. The pain of having to leave him so soon ran soul-deep. Only the knowledge that her marriage had freed him kept her going.

  She took a shuddering breath. ‘And when you’re discovered?’

  Because Elena would be—it was only a matter of time. But everyone had to believe what they were told so they’d search in the wrong place.

  ‘Where have I gone?’

  ‘You’ve taken a hire car.’ Elena’s bottom lip quivered. Her eyes brimmed with the glitter of tears as she played her role with breathless innocence and trembling perfection. ‘You’re driving towards Karpathos. To visit your mother’s grave.’

  Thea had wanted to go before the wedding. Her father had refused to allow it. Try as he might, he’d never excised her mother’s memory from her life, so her visiting there would make sense to him. It was a subtle mix of truth and fiction blended into a believable enough concoction.

  Still. It didn’t feel right.

  ‘I hate using Mama’s memory this way.’

  Elena shook her head. ‘Maria would have approved. Anything to get you away from men like those. But forget that. Was I good enough?’

  ‘You should become an actress,’ Thea said. ‘After that flawless performance Christo’s minions will definitely head south looking for me.’

  ‘And you’ll be starting your new life.’ Elena smiled—her first display of happiness on this bleak day. ‘Can’t you tell me where you’re going?’

  ‘No. It’s safer this way.’ It would protect Elena as much as herself in the little time they had.

  Thea grabbed her motorcycle helmet from the chair behind her, hesitating.

  ‘How in Hades am I going to get this over my stupid hair?’

  All that teasing and plaiting... The style had taken aeons to create, with the hairdresser cooing over what would be a wasted effort.

  Elena pulled at a few of the sculpted curls. ‘It’ll take an hour to get rid of these pins!’

  ‘No time for that. I’ll squash the helmet over the top somehow. How much time have we spent already?’

  Elena checked her watch. ‘We haven’t been long. Anyhow, they’re too busy drinking your father’s ouzo to care. Everyone’s going to think you’re spending ages to look beautiful for Christo. And once you leave they’ll have to go—which none of them want.’

  It was the sad truth. Thea had no idea who most of the people at the wedding were. Business associates, she suspected. More deals and alliances being sealed over the carcass of her blighted union. Vultures, the lot of them. They were interested in the food, the alcohol, the spectacle.

  ‘I’ll never forget what you did for me. When it’s safe, I’ll try to let you know where...’

  Thea swallowed the lump tightening her throat. There were few people she loved. Elena. Alexis. The thought of leaving them crushed her.

  Elena waved her away. ‘I’m holding you to that. One day when we’re both grandmothers we’ll drink coffee together and laugh about today,’ she said, searching through a bag, then thrusting Thea an envelope. ‘Don’t forget this. Passport. Money. Bank details. It’s all there. Now, go! Be happy.’

  Thea hesitated. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and rubbed the worn St Christopher medal on its fine chain, safely nestled there. Then she grabbed her padded gloves and secreted rucksack, moving to slip out of the door at the back of the room, which led to the alley where her motorcycle was hidden.

  The door was usually kept locked, but she’d been able to charm the manager of the venue into leaving it unsecured for a fictional delivery. A surprise for the groom.

  ‘Wait!’ Elena squeaked.

  Thea whipped around, her heart pounding with the electric spike of adrenalin. They’d been discovered?

  All she saw was her friend, a slender shape framed by the light from the doorway behind.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Rings!’

  How could she have forgotten her engagement ring? The dead weight of the baguette diamond. Huge. Impossible to miss. And her wedding ring wasn’t far behind, with its twinkling encrustation of pure white gemstones. Her husband’s mark. His claim.

  Thea prised the pair of them from her finger and handed them to her friend. Now she was free.

  Time to go.

  ‘And that is where this absurd charade ends.’

  The deep, growling voice rumbled like thunder as a shadow loomed from a darkened alcove.

  Christo.

  * * *

  Christo strolled over to a petite side table and turned on a lamp. The room shone with a soft glow. Such a pretty space, with delicate gilt furniture and swathes of brocade fabric draping the walls. Perfect for wedding preparations. Not so perfect for the curious machinations of the two wide-eyed females now frozen before him.

  He’d been prepared to allow their odd scene to take its course. There was no chance of his sparkling new bride running away. One of his men stood waiting outside the door. She would have walked into a wall of immovable security.

  He gritted his teeth. Breathed through the heat blistering his veins. The rings.

  Holding out his hand, he nodded to the Drakos girl. She placed Thea’s bouquet on one of the fine chairs and dropped the glittering tokens into his palm. He curled them into his fist and they burned in his hand. Hundreds of thousands of euros in jewellery sat there, abandoned wit
hout care.

  Christo slid them into the pocket of his trousers and addressed Thea’s bridesmaid. ‘Leave us.’ He kept his voice level and calm. His bride and his future were secure for now. Any further emotion was misdirected.

  ‘You can’t make me. I’m staying here.’

  Such a brave statement. Christo smiled. He’d been told he looked wolf-like when he did, so he tried for a less predatory edge. Elena shuddered, and wilted a fraction. Ah, so he’d failed. Again.

  He sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone. Pressed speed dial. ‘Raul,’ he said evenly, ‘I need you. Miss Drakos would like to dance.’

  He’d attend to Thea soon enough. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed her, standing straight. Stiff. Glancing at the door. Would she run or hold her ground? He suspected the former and hoped for the latter. Why? It was hard to say. He was used to women running when life didn’t meet their expectations. His mother had been the finest advocate of that coping strategy.

  Raul, his appointed head of security and best man, arrived at the door. Elena was the maid of honour. She was required to dance with Raul at some point. Now was an opportune time as any.

  ‘Elena stays.’

  The lady speaks. Although it was more like a hiss. Quiet. Serpentine. Curling a chill tight on his spine.

  He ignored it. ‘Elena, you’ll dance with Raul now.’

  Christo had little doubt she’d leave. His commands were invariably followed. Raul held out his hand. His prospective dance partner took it, removed her ridiculous hat, placed it on a chair and left the room with a tearful ‘Sorry...’ to Christo’s bride. Such a touching moment.

  He turned his attention to Thea.

  She didn’t wilt. She stood rigid. Head held high. So fierce and proud. Dressed in jeans and leather with exquisitely coiffed and braided hair. All contradiction—such a heady mix.

  A tantalising buzz thrummed through him.

  ‘How long were you hiding there?’ she asked.

  Christo would allow her some questions. He had a lifetime to get answers of his own.