Page 4 of Slightly Married
“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 gesturegiving 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.
