Husband By Request

His head reared. “How did Dominique get to you?”

“Probably the same way she got to you.”

Andreas heard the click.

He stood there frozen.

Paul’s silence on the subject of Dominique had always puzzled him. Long ago he’d decided his friend doubted her suitability as a wife for Andreas by virtue of the ten-year difference in their ages and her being of a different nationality. But his uncharacteristic behavior since flying to Sarajevo had dispelled that myth. In fact Paul’s willingness to risk saying something that could hurt their lifetime friendship was a revelation.

If he didn’t know better, Andreas could be forgiven for thinking his friend harbored secret feelings for Dominique.

While he grappled with a dichotomy of emotions, the helicopter came into view. Andreas paid for his coffee, then stepped off the terrace of the taverna into the sun.

His mood fierce since talking to Olympia, he scarcely noticed the flight to the landing pad atop his office building in Athens.

“Did Mrs. Stamatakis tell you what her plans were?”

“No, sir. You would have to ask Mr. Christopoulos.”

“If she calls you for any reason I want to be informed,” he told his pilot.

The other man nodded.

In a few minutes Andreas had called his driver once again. “Take me to the villa.”

If Olympia was right, and Dominique had gone there to gather her courage before returning to the yacht, he would save her the trouble.

Before this hour was up there was going to be a confrontation. He would force her to deal with the one painful issue they’d both avoided discussing from the beginning of their relationship.

CHAPTER THREE

PANOS TEXTILES was situated near Syntagma Square, where the Stamatakis office building was also located. Dominique paid the taxi driver and hurried inside the ground floor, where a receptionist greeted her. She was going to see Olympia’s husband—or ex-husband, as he seemed to be now.

“I’d like to see Theo Panos, if he’s here.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. If I could please speak to his secretary?”

“What’s your name?”

“Dominique Stamatakis.”

The mere mention of Andreas’s name caused the woman’s eyes to widen before she spoke into the phone. A rapid conversation in Greek ensued. In a few minutes Dominique was cleared to go up to the top floor.

When she emerged from the elevator Theo himself was waiting for her. He too was dark-haired, like Andreas, though not quite as tall or hard-muscled. She thought him quite attractive in white slacks and a light olive jacket with a darker green shirt.

He studied her at some length, his expression sober. “The butterfly has broken out of her chrysalis. You look very, very beautiful, Dominique.”

“Thank you, Theo. I appreciate your willingness to see me on such short notice.”

“I never thought to lay eyes on you again. Come in to my private office where we can talk without interruption.”

When he’d shown her through the suite to a comfortable leather seat opposite his desk, she said, “There was a time when I couldn’t imagine myself returning to Greece for any reason.”

He walked over to the bar. “Sherry?” he asked, lifting a bottle.

“Nothing for me.”