Page 2 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

T he moment I stepped into Michail Athanasiou’s Upper East Side mansion, my instincts flared. The ornate foyer with its gleaming marble felt like the entrance to a well-crafted trap.

“Mr. Christakis, welcome,” the butler announced formally after taking our coats. “If you and your associates would follow me, Mr. Athanasiou is expecting you in his study.”

I gave a barely perceptible nod to Alexei, my head of security, who positioned himself discreetly. Andreas, my assistant, remained two steps behind me, tablet in hand, his presence as unobtrusive as always.

The phantom ache across my left side intensified as it always did in unfamiliar territory. My fingers brushed briefly against my ribs where the bullet had torn through two years ago.

As we followed the butler through a long corridor lined with expensive art, a door opened just ahead of us. A tall man in a tailored suit stepped out, his attention on a folder in his hands.

He looked up at our approach and froze.

Matthaios. My cousin.

Shock registered in his eyes before he quickly recovered. I maintained my neutral expression despite the questions flooding my mind.

“Mr. Christopher,” the butler addressed him, “would you inform Mr. Athanasiou that his appointment has arrived?”

Christopher? So that was the identity he was using here.

“Of course,” Matthaios replied smoothly, his Greek accent muted. Our eyes met again briefly before he turned and walked ahead of us toward the study.

Matthaios disappeared around a corner, presumably to announce our arrival. Moments later, he reappeared and gestured toward a door at the end of the hall.

“Mr. Athanasiou will see you now,” he said formally, as though we were strangers. “He’s requested that your team remain in the waiting area.”

“Thank you,” I replied with equal formality.

When I stepped into Michail’s study, the man rose from behind his desk and extended his hand. I couldn’t help but notice how Matthaios had inherited Michail’s height and dark blue eyes.

“Konstantin Christakis,” Michail said, his handshake firm. “I was expecting your brother Aristides. I specifically requested him.” The note of disappointment in his voice was unmistakable.

“Aristides sends his regrets,” I replied evenly. “He’s overseeing the fire at one of Olympus Motors facilities. I handle all major financial acquisitions for our family. I assure you I have full authority to negotiate for Thalassía.”

As the middle son of Periklis and Domna Christakis, I’d carved out my position between Aristides’ diplomatic leadership and Dimitrios’ operational finesse by mastering financial strategy.

As CFO of Olympus Motors, my family’s automotive empire, I’d strengthened our position among global competitors through strategic acquisitions and financial restructuring.

We each had a role to play in upholding the Christakis legacy. Today, this particular duty fell to me.

Michail nodded. “Of course. These operational crises always seem to occur at the most inconvenient times.”

He gestured toward the leather chairs arranged before his desk. “Please sit.”

Once I was seated and the heavy doors closed behind us, Michail poured himself a drink.

“My wife and I tried for years to have children,” he began. “She miscarried three boys before Michaila finally arrived. After her, nothing else... stuck.” He took a contemplative sip. “The doctors said it was a miracle we had one.”

I shifted in my seat, resisting the urge to check my watch. “Mr. Athanasiou, I appreciate your willingness to share personal details, but I’m here to discuss the sale of Thalassía, not your family history.”

Michail chuckled. “You remind me of your father, Konstantin. Always direct, always focused on the business at hand.” His eyes narrowed. “But sometimes business and family are intertwined, especially for men like us.”

I remained silent, waiting for him to get to his point.

“I’ve been thinking about legacy lately,” he continued.

“What I’ll leave behind. I have two daughters, but no sons.

Simone, though not biologically mine, has always been my favorite.

” He smiled briefly before his expression turned serious.

“She has the mind for business, the drive. But the business world in Greece...” He shook his head.

“They would make her life difficult. A Black woman trying to run a Greek shipping empire? They would undermine her at every turn.”

I noted the protectiveness in his voice. “And Michaila?”

“A butterfly,” Michail said with a dismissive wave. “Beautiful, charming, but with no head or interest in business.”

“I’m still not seeing how this relates to Thalassía,” I said, my patience thinning. “I’m prepared to offer thirty million euros for the island’s immediate return to Christakis ownership. That’s twice its current market value.”

“This is what I’m offering instead. Marriage to my daughter and a baby from the union in exchange for Thalassía. A union of families rather than a mere transaction.”

I kept my expression neutral despite the absurdity of his proposal. “Marriage?” I repeated flatly. “You can’t be serious.”

“But I am.” Michail’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I need someone suitable for my daughter, someone who understands family obligations and business. Someone who can help secure my legacy. With a grandson from a respected Greek family like yours, my business interests would be protected.”

“Fifty million euros,” I countered immediately, refusing to entertain his absurd proposition. “That’s my final offer.”

Michail shook his head slowly. “The island isn’t for sale at any price. It’s marriage or nothing.”

My Italian loafers made no sound against the Persian rug as I moved to the windows overlooking the back garden. This wasn’t a negotiation. It was extortion.

I squared my shoulders against the weight of another impossible choice. The path forward was clear, if distasteful. Personal feelings had no place in decisions that affected Christakis’ legacy.

My father had taught us that family duty transcended individual desires. A lesson I’d embraced completely. The strength to set aside one’s own wishes was what separated leaders from the rest.

My thoughts drifted to my father’s final moments. All of us had gathered around his bed in his final hours as he extracted promises from each of us according to our strengths.

Aristides would lead, Dimitrios would maintain family harmony, and Santo, my nephew, and Aristedis’ son, would be our future. I would continue to secure the financial foundation that made it all possible.

“Bring Thalassía home,” he’d commanded us collectively, his voice weakened but his will undiminished.

His gaze had lingered on me last, as if he knew I might be the one to do it. We’d all clasped hands over his, a pact sealed in the shadow of death.

I ran a hand over my face, feeling the weight of obligation pressing down from all sides. My father’s dying wish had been for us to reclaim Thalassía, by any means necessary. But there was another promise binding me.

Stella’s face flashed in my mind. Just three months ago, she had agreed to become my wife. The engagement wasn’t public yet, but the private commitment weighed on me as heavily as my father’s last request.

I would have to break one promise to keep another. Either way, I would be betraying someone who trusted me.

“Which daughter?” I asked finally, turning to face Michail.

“My lioness, of course,” Michail replied. “Simone’s the one with the business acumen, and with you as her husband, my business interests can continue well into the future.”

Before I could respond, the door flew open. “Daddy,” a woman’s voice cut through the silence. “You can’t seriously be bartering Simone off like she’s an object?”

Matthaios, who stood in the doorway, apologized to Michail for his daughter’s interruption while Michail waved it off, accusing the woman of being as determined as him. I had a feeling this was Michaila.

From my position by the window, I observed her closely. Her hands moved expressively as she spoke, each gesture giving weight to her words. Every statement she uttered carried genuine emotion.

She was remarkable, with lightly toasted brown skin and braids that fell to her hips. Her lips were plump and ruby.

A ridiculous thought occurred to me. What would her lips taste like?

I shoved it aside. This wasn’t a time for distractions.

“I’ll marry the old sleazebag... whoever he is,” she declared suddenly, folding her arms across her chest. “If it means Simone is free, I’ll do it.”

A fascinating development. I watched as Michail assessed his daughter before his eyes shifted to where I stood. The sudden self-sacrifice presented an unexpected opportunity.

Perhaps this was a way out. I could fulfill my father’s wish while minimizing the damage to Stella. A temporary arrangement with this woman might be less hurtful than breaking our engagement.

“The old sleazebag will accept you as his bride,” I stated.

She spun around, clearly startled by my presence. She had a tall, confident posture despite her evident shock. Admirable.

I stepped forward, maintaining eye contact. “Konstantin Christakis.” I extended my hand. “Your fiancé.”

Her skin was cool against mine, but the electric current passing between us was unexpected.

“Are you done staring?” Michaila pulled her hand back, her gaze cool.

“A prudent man inspects every term of an agreement. No one wants to trade gold for straw.”

She sputtered. “Straw?”

I kept my expression neutral. No need to let her see that she’d gotten a rise out of me.

Her jaw tightened, but rather than argue back about her self-worth, she said, “Do you have any idea how rude it is to listen to other people’s private conversations?”

I responded with cool amusement. “Weren’t you the one who barged into this office while I was having a private meeting?”

“But at least I announced my presence rather than lurk in the shadows like a phantom.”

“I prefer to think of it as observing.”

“Let me guess,” she said directly. “You’re choosing to marry a stranger to fatten your already brimming coffers?”

“I’m simply reclaiming what rightfully belongs to my family.

The island belonged to my family for generations before my uncle’s vindictive wife sold it to your father.

Thalassía’s value extends beyond money.” I straightened my cuffs.

“The question is, are you prepared for what this arrangement truly entails?”

My father, and then my brothers and I had spent years attempting to reclaim the island from Michail, but every offer was rebuffed until two days ago. Michail had extended an invitation to Aristides to discuss terms of reclamation, and I believed we would only be parted with a portion of our wealth.

Instead, I was offered a wife.

I dragged my eyes away from my future father-in-law, refusing to allow bitterness to overcome me. I returned my attention to Michaila.

Her existence made her a pawn in his game. She had the luxury of refusing this arrangement, unlike me, who was tied down by the bonds of family obligation.

Obligation. The word carried the weight of promises made to my father and to Theo, whose blood had stained my hands, whose final breaths I’d held.

“What more could this arrangement entail?” Uncertainty crossed her features before she turned to her father. “If there’s more to this deal than a wedding certificate, perhaps someone should enlighten me.”

Michail set down his glass. “Marriage is only part of the arrangement, Michaila. The Christakis family doesn’t regain Thalassía until a child is born. Your sister won’t keep her position at the company unless my grandchild is born.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “A child?”

“Legacy,” her father stated simply. “The Athanasiou and Christakis bloodlines joined. A grandchild to inherit what I’ve built.”

She paled. I watched her process this new information, noting how her fingers tightened around her arms.

“So I’m to be...” she searched for words, “... a broodmare in this transaction?”

Michail’s expression hardened. “You’re to be a wife and mother. Time-honored roles many women would welcome. And what you wanted when you married that gold-digging boy.”

“A wife and mother on my terms, not as part of some medieval business arrangement.” She turned to me. “And what about you? Are you comfortable reducing the creation of a child to a contract clause?”

Michail interjected before I could answer. “Once the child is born, the terms of the agreement will be satisfied. What you choose to do with your marriage afterward is your business.” His eyes narrowed. “Though I would prefer my grandchild raised by two parents.”

The implication was clear. The marriage could end, but the child would connect both families.

“I’ve never shied away from family obligations,” I stated, meeting Michaila’s eyes. “The question is whether you’ll honor yours.”

“Oh, I’ll honor it. But this partnership will have rules and an expiration date.”