Julia James - The Greek's Duty-Bound Royal Bride

Finally taking refuge in Marika’s bedroom, Ellie asked the question which was most concerning her, which she could not possibly have asked in front of any member of the remaining royal staff, however loyal they were.

‘Marika, what’s happening about Papa’s finances? What has the new government agreed to? It must have been quite a generous settlement...’ She glanced around her at the luxuriously appointed bedroom. ‘This place doesn’t come cheap, that’s for sure!’

But her sister was looking at her with an expression that struck a chill through her. And her features were strained.

‘Papa isn’t paying for this hotel, Lisi! He can’t afford it—oh, Lisi, he can’t afford anything at all! We’re completely penniless!’

The blood drained from Ellie’s face. ‘Penniless?’ she echoed in a hollow voice.

Her sister nodded, her features still contorted. ‘He’s been told by the new head of government that he won’t get any kind of financial settlement at all, and that all the royal assets have been frozen!’

‘Nothing?’ Ellie gasped disbelievingly. Then her eyes went around the luxuriously appointed bedroom again. ‘But...but this place...? You’ve been here nearly a fortnight already...’

Consternation was flooding through her as Marika’s expression changed. Now awkwardness was vivid in her pretty features.

‘Like I said, Lisi... Papa isn’t paying for this suite—someone else is.’

Ellie stared, dismay filling her like cold water. ‘But who ?’ she demanded.

Marika’s answer was fractured and disjointed. ‘He’s called Leon—Leon Dukaris—and he’s a billionaire—Greek. He was in Karylya last summer, on business. He came to the summer opera gala that Mutti is patroness for. He was introduced to us—and Papa invited him to a garden party at the palace. Then he came to a reception and a dinner, too—I didn’t really pay any attention. It was a business affair with some of the ministers and other foreign investors. He was mostly talking to them and Papa. I... I don’t really know much more, except that when we arrived in London he got in touch with Papa and told him he would underwrite our expenses...’

Ellie was still staring. ‘But why ? Why should this...this Leon Dukaris care about Papa? Let alone fork out for this place! If he wants to do business in Karylya it’s not Papa he should be making up to,’ she finished bitterly.

A tide of colour washed up her sister’s face, and something about Marika’s expression curdled Ellie’s blood.

‘Marika, what is it?’ she asked urgently.

Her sister was twisting her hands, a look of anguish in her face. ‘Oh, God, Lisi—there’s only one reason he’s paying for everything! He wants...’ She swallowed. ‘He wants to marry me!’

Ellie’s eyes widened in total disbelief. ‘ Marry you? You can’t be serious!’

‘He’s making it obvious!’ Marika cried. ‘He’s been here several times, always very attentive to me. Way more than just being polite! I do my best to put him off, but I know Mutti is hoping I’ll encourage him. She’s worried sick about what’s going to happen to us now, and if he really wants to marry me—’

She broke off, her voice choking. Ellie’s dismay doubled. It was bad enough learning that her father was penniless, and that he was being bankrolled by some unknown Greek billionaire...but that her sister should believe the Greek billionaire wanted to marry her...?

Surely Marika was imagining it? Upset and overwrought as she so obviously was right now by the disaster that had befallen their family?

In a macabre attempt at humour, at a time when humour was absolutely impossible, Ellie heard herself blurt out, ‘Just please don’t tell me that this Leon Dukaris is some creepy, lecherous old man with a fat gut and piggy eyes!’

‘No, not exactly,’ Marika answered in a shaky voice. But then her eyes welled with tears. ‘Oh, Lisi, it doesn’t matter what he looks like or who he is!’ Her tears spilled over into open weeping. ‘I’m in love with someone else!’ she cried. ‘So I can’t marry Leon Dukaris! I just can’t !’

Leon vaulted from his limo, now drawn up in the entrance sweep of the Viscari St James, and strode into the lobby. It was time to visit the royal family again.

He had called upon the Grand Duke several times since his abrupt arrival in London two weeks ago—ostensibly to give him his assurance that all his expenses would be underwritten by himself for the duration of his stay, until such time as he had decided where to live out his exile and do whatever it was that former monarchs did when their countries no longer wanted them. But the real reason for his visits was quite different.

He was trying to decide whether he was truly going to go ahead with claiming a princess for his bride—the ultimate prize.

Thoughts played across his mind as the elevator doors to the penthouse floor slid shut. Was he simply being fanciful in even giving house room to the idea? It had come to him the previous summer, when he had been visiting Karylya on business, being invited to the palace, socialising with the royal family, meeting Princess Marika...

At the time he had given it no serious thought, but the idea had grown on him during the intervening months. The girl, though a brunette, and quiet in her manner, was very pretty, and if his own tastes actually ran to blondes—well, for the sake of a princess bride surely he could change his tastes...

Nor was she unintelligent, from what he could judge of her, and that was another key advantage. His features hardened momentarily. So was the crucial fact that, as a princess, she’d be perfectly open to the idea of marrying for practical reasons. Love—his mouth tightened—would not get to taint their marriage...

He snapped his mind away from his darkening thoughts. No, there was nothing to rule Princess Marika out of his consideration...and now that events had taken such a disastrous turn for the Karylyan royal family, from the princess’s point of view—and her parents’—there was every incentive for her to consider his proposal seriously.

If he were to make one, of course...

But should I?

That his suit would be favoured by her parents was obvious—what could be more desirable than a very wealthy son-in-law to keep on bankrolling their exile indefinitely? As for the princess herself... He knew without vanity that he was highly attractive to women—his life, even while he had still been in the process of making his huge fortune, had been filled with eager females demonstrating that undeniable fact to him. Now, in his thirties, he was done playing the field. He would be perfectly happy to settle down with one agreeable female and he would make the princess a good husband.

And theirs would be an honest marriage. He wouldn’t delude and deceive his bride with hypocritical declarations of undying love and endless mouthing of romantic flummery that meant nothing when the chips were down.

Leon’s dark eyes hardened with harsh memory. His father had made such endless declarations—Leon had grown up hearing him telling his mother how devoted he was to her, how much he loved her, how she meant the world to him, how she was the moon and the stars and all the other romantic verbiage he had lavished upon her.

It had counted for nothing .

When the Greek economy had crashed his father had taken off with another woman—conveniently wealthy—leaving his heartbroken wife and his teenage son to cope on their own. Abandoning them totally.

His mother had been devastated by the betrayal—Leon had been only angry. Deeply, bitterly angry. And contemptuous of the man who had abandoned them.