The Tycoon's Rebel Bride (The Anetakis Tycoons #2)(7)

“I’ve made arrangements for the Anetakis jet to fly you from Greece to New York a week from now. Will your mother be traveling with you?”

It was a senseless question, meant to be more polite than inquisitive since he knew well that Alannis’s family would never allow her to travel to see an unmarried man unchaperoned.

“I’ll look forward to your arrival then,” he continued. “I’ve arranged for a night at the opera shortly after you arrive.” If all went well, he’d request a moment alone to propose and then the two families could go ahead with the wedding plans.

Of course now he needed to apprise his brothers of his intentions.

He hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment. He had no doubt Chrysander would, in his newfound loving bliss, be reluctant to encourage Theron to enter into a loveless marriage. Piers on the other hand would shrug and say it was Theron’s life and if he wanted to mess it up, that was his prerogative.

In time he could grow to like Alannis very well. He liked her already and respected her, which was more than he could say for a lot of the women of his acquaintance. He knew better than to expect a woman to love him as deeply as Marley loved his brother. But he’d like to think he could be friends with his future wife and enjoy her companionship in and out of bed.

He frowned when he thought of Alannis naked and in his bed, beneath his body. He glanced down at his groin as if expecting a response. If he was, he was disappointed.

Alannis…she came across as cold and extremely stiff. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for that. She was most assuredly a virgin, and it would be up to him to coax the passion from her. It was his duty as her husband.

With a sigh, he checked his watch, and to his irritation noticed that Isabella was late. He drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk. Madeline had provided three possible apartments, all in good areas and in close proximity to the Imperial Park Hotel. She hadn’t as of yet provided a list of eligible men.

No matter. The first order of business was to see her settled. The sooner, the better. Then he’d worry about marrying her off.

When he heard his door open, he looked up, startled. Then he frowned when he saw Isabella stride inside. On cue, his intercom buzzed, and Madeline’s voice announced somewhat dryly that Isabella was on her way in.

“Good morning,” Isabella sang out as she stopped in front of his desk.

He swallowed and then his gaze narrowed as he took in her attire. It wasn’t exactly immodest, and as such he couldn’t offer a complaint. It covered her. Sort of.

His mouth went dry when she put her hands on his desk and leaned forward. Her br**sts spilled precariously close to the neckline of her T-shirt, and he could see the lacy cups of her bra as they pushed the soft mounds upward.

He cursed under his breath and directed his gaze upward. “Good morning, Isabella.”

“Bella, please, unless you have an aversion to the name?”

He didn’t, though it somehow seemed more intimate, particularly when he took the meaning of the Italian form of her name. Beautiful. That she was. Stunningly so. Different from the usual sophisticated type of women he gravitated toward, but beautiful nonetheless. There was something wild and unrestrained about her.

He ground his teeth together and shifted his position. Where his groin had remained stoic when thinking of Alannis, it had flared to life, painfully so, as soon as Isabella had walked into his office.

He was her guardian, someone to look after her welfare, and here he sat fantasizing about her. Disgust filled him. Not only was it disrespectful to Isabella but it was disrespectful to Alannis. No woman should have to put up with her soon-to-be fiancé lusting after another woman.

“Bella,” he echoed, taking her invitation to use her nickname. It suited her. Light and beautiful.

He rose from his seat and walked around the front of his desk. She eyed him curiously, and he found himself asking her why.

She laughed. “You’re dressed so casually today. I’m so used to seeing you in nothing but suits and ties.”

“When have you seen me?” he asked in surprise. He thought back to the times when she would have seen him, and while he probably was wearing a suit, it was hardly a basis for her supposition.

She flushed, and he watched in fascination as color stained her cheeks. She ducked away, her hair sliding over her shoulder.

“Pictures,” she mumbled. “There are always pictures of you in the papers.”

“And you get these papers all the way out in California?” he asked.

“Yes. I like to keep up with the people looking after my financial well-being,” she said evenly.

“As you should,” he said approvingly. “Are you ready to go? I have a list of potential apartments. I took the liberty of scaling down the possibilities to a few more suitable to a young woman living alone.”

And then he realized he’d made a huge assumption. There was certainly no reason to believe that a woman as beautiful and vibrant as Isabella would be living alone. He refused to retract the statement or ask her if she was currently involved with anyone. But he’d need to know because if she was involved, seriously, then he could forego the whole process of introducing her to prospective husbands.

“I’m ready if you are,” she said as she smiled warmly at him.

As they walked from the building that housed the Anetakis headquarters, Theron put his hand to the small of Isabella’s back. She felt the touch through her shirt. It seared her skin, and she was sure that if she could look, there would be a visible print from his fingers, burned into her flesh.