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After a moment, she nods. “Thank you, Harper.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile, then glance at the clock on the wall. “Now I really have to hurry to finish dressing, or I’ll be wearing my bathrobe to your party.”

“At least you wouldn’t outshine me,” says Sophie, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

“Darling, no one could outshine you, especially tonight.”

Despite the time constraints, I dress with care. I want to be beautiful for Jayson, without any risk of outshining Sophie. With that in mind, I choose an elegant, strapless black sheath. It hugs my curves and flares slightly at the hips, and has a satisfyingly graceful swing to it. High heels that kill my feet and the anniversary earrings complete the ensemble. Mascara, black eyeliner, and pale pink lip gloss are all I need with the color I’ve gotten from gardening.

Jayson likes my hair down, so I leave it flowing to my shoulders, noting in passing that it’s getting time for a trim. I’ve lost all sense of time while on this island, immersed in my husband. Has it really been only three weeks since we first had sex?

I close the drawer on the vanity and get to my feet, wincing at the heels. If they didn’t do such amazing things for my legs and ass, I’d kick them off and throw them away. Jayson waits in the bedroom, looking incredibly handsome in a lightweight black suit with a silver tie. He growls low in his throat as I walk toward him.

“Are you wearing those silky little panties I love?”

With a small smile, I lift my skirt to flash him my lace underwear and garter belt securing black thigh-highs. When he reaches out to touch, I lightly smack his hand away. “There’s no time for that. Yet,” I add.

With a groan, Jayson offers his arm instead. “You are killing me.”

I pat his hand on my arm. “You’ll survive.”

“You’re a temptress.”

I can’t hold back a laugh, unashamed that I’m silently enjoying his so-called misery. He’s teased me often enough that it only serves him right to turn the tables. Not to mention his blatant desire boosts my ego.

We get downstairs shortly before the influx of guests. When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, Jayson whispers in my ear. “We would have had time, agape mou.”

I smile wickedly. “Perhaps ten minutes would be enough for you, but I need more.”

His lips twitch with suppressed amusement. “You are going to pay for that comment. You’ll have so much time, you’ll beg me to stop.”

I shake my head. “Never,” I tell him with complete seriousness.

A group of giggling teenagers interrupt us, and we end up separated as we mingle, acting more as chaperones than party guests…at least until some of the older guests begin to arrive.

I spend the next hour circulating among the guests, making sure everyone has what they need. It’s strange to see some of Sophie’s friends drinking as heavily as some older guests, but alcohol isn’t the taboo in Greece that it is in America. At least Sophie is nursing the same glass of champagne she took at the beginning of the party. Her handsome Greek boyfriend, Loukas, is doing the same. Probably because they know I’ll flip out if they don’t.

Shortly after, a slight disruption draws my attention to another part of the room. My stomach clenches when I recognize Maia Papadas at the center of a small group. A group that includes Jayson. My husband. Maia leans toward Jayson, tossing her hair back as she laughs at something he says. Her hand settles on his forearm, but he makes no move to brush it off.

Resolutely, I turn away from the sight, determined to ignore Maia’s behavior. I’ll have to trust Jayson if we’re going to have a real marriage. He doesn’t seem to be in love with Maia any longer, so really, I have nothing to fear. I’ve almost convinced myself of that fact as I greet more guests and make sure the catering staff is keeping the food in steady supply. It’s a party much like any other, despite Maia’s unwelcome presence.

When the caterer comes up to let me know that the birthday cake is ready, I crane my head, looking for Sophie. I approach the other girl, who is deep in conversation with Loukas, clearing her throat loudly so they know I’m coming. “The cake is ready.”

Sophie smiles. “So am I.” She looks around. “Where is Theo Jayson?”

“I’ll find him,” I answer. Turning from Sophie to scan the room, I don’t see him. My eyes seem to have an unerring ability to zero in on him wherever he is, but I still don’t see him. With a small sigh of impatience, I go in search of Jayson.

His study and our bedroom are both empty, along with the rooms near the party. I pass near a small salon and the sound of Maia’s voice makes me pause. I peek inside cautiously. The salon leads to one of the gardens, and Maia is out on the patio, with the French doors still open. Standing near her is Jayson

.

I gasp softly when Maia presses herself closer to Jayson, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Erastís, you must forgive me. I was young and foolish. It scared me how much I loved you, so I ran away.”

“Right into Kyrios Milanou’s arms,” says Jayson sardonically.

Maia clutches his lapels, looking up at him with a pleading expression. It’s clearly contrived, but does Jayson realize that? “I married Stavros to please my father. He wanted it.” Her voice drops down, forcing me to ease closer to hear. “You must know I had no love for him. When he took me in his arms,” she shakes her head no, “I hated to have that old man touching me.” She trails a hand down Jayson’s chest, stopping dangerously close to his belt. “I only got through it by imagining it was your hands on me and you making love to me.”

“Perhaps you imagined it was my fortune when you spent his money?” Jayson shakes his head. “No, it couldn’t be, because you broke off our engagement when my father threatened to disown me if I didn’t follow his plans for my life.”