Rumors Behind the Greek's Wedding

‘Not now.’

‘Yes now. I am needed back in Greece first thing tomorrow morning,’ he said, checking his watch unnecessarily, as he perfectly well knew the time, but it was not bad for an on-the-spot dramatic effect.

Having done so, he levered himself from where he leaned against the car and held open the passenger door. ‘Shall we?’

‘No, we shall not,’ she hissed as she skirted around him and away from the open door as if he posed some great threat. Fine. He closed the door.

‘Célia,’ he called out before she could get much further. ‘We do need to talk.’

It must have been the change in his voice that stopped her retreat. It wasn’t the charming playboy tone that had done him both great success and great damage only a few years before. Before everything he’d known had come crashing down about his ears. It wasn’t the tone he’d used to seduce, or amuse, to charm, placate or cajole. Neither was it the autocratic arrogant, commanding, brook-no-argument voice he’d used on her earlier. Strangely enough it was none of the façades he’d adopted over the years, but the tone of his own true self that halted her departure.

He watched her take a deep breath and remembered just how beautiful he found her. Her face was almost startling in comparison to the bland taste in clothing. Broad features made the most of the sharp cheekbones that were contrasted with lips that were a small, delicate cupid’s bow. Eyes, wide in shock, were of the purest amber. Her hair had been piled up as if thoughtlessly in a messy bun, but the little of what he could see hinted at rich auburn tones he wanted to investigate further. Her rich, creamy skin was covered in a light spattering of freckles that the horrid T-shirt did nothing for. But no matter how appealing and refreshing he found her, it was not why he was here.

‘Mr Liordis. I am sorry, but I really do need to eat.’

‘We have reservations at Comte Croix.’

‘I... I’m hardly dressed for—’

‘Anything other than paintballing? I had noticed. But as you’ll be with me, I’m sure they’ll make an exception.’

A blush rose to the creamiest of skin on her cheeks, blotting out the subtle shades of her freckles. He opened the door for her once again and as she passed before him he inhaled the sweet scent of orange and herbs, basil perhaps, and pressed down the urge for more. More was certainly not on the menu tonight. Or any other night, quite possibly, for the next ten years or so. In that moment he cursed his mother all over again and wished her safely and securely to hell.

* * *

Célia pressed herself deeply into the plush leather of the sleek supercar wishing she were anywhere but right there, next to Loukis Liordis. It was one thing to be sharp with him on the phone, but altogether something else to be within touching distance of such a...such a... Well, she wasn’t blind. The renowned Greek billionaire playboy was utterly overwhelming in person.

From this angle she couldn’t miss the thick waves of dark hair that had been pushed back from a proud forehead as if conspiring to show off his innate beauty. His brows were low above eyes that were busy scanning the lamplit Parisian streets. Eyes that she’d chastised herself already for comparing to rich espresso the one and only previous time she’d met him.

He’d come to the office before Ella’s maternity leave and their brief introduction had sent seismic shock waves through Célia. Not because of any special attention he’d directed her way. No, in fact he’d barely raked a glance across her features. But that glance had fired something within her. Something she’d thought dormant. And it had been enough. Enough to warn her she would have to be on her guard around him.

Her eyes were drawn back to his tense jawline, strong enough to demand attention, despite the keep away aura that seemed to fill the car. The powerful angle of his cheekbones highlighted the bridge of his nose—the slight kink there hinting towards a years-old break, perhaps. But it was his lips that really got to her. They appeared ever so slightly pursed, as if intentionally drawing her gaze to the centre of his upper lip, where it swept downwards at the same point as his lower lip lent upwards just a little.

And then those lips moved. Quirking into a side-angled smile as he caught her openly staring at him.

Kill me now. Please.

She pressed even further back into the seat, trying to make herself invisible.

‘If you want to move the seat back—’

‘Non, merci.’

He simply nodded in response, never once having taken his eyes off the road, nor loosening the smile that quirked his lips.

She hated the painful blush that stole over her cheeks. Hated dealing with the rich clients Ella sourced, and wished for the hundredth time that day her best friend and business partner weren’t on maternity leave. But no matter how much she did, Célia would never begrudge the happiness Ella had found with Roman. Despite a deeply rocky start, they had found their happy-ever-after. One that she couldn’t ever imagine for herself. Not after...

Her thoughts were cut off as the car pulled off the road

towards the large sprawling entrance of the famous Parisian restaurant. Taking a deep breath, she forced her mind into a semblance of order. ‘So what did you—’

‘We’re here,’ he announced, either purposely or unnecessarily interrupting her.

She clenched her jaw and took a deep breath in through her nose. He might be the most attractive man she’d ever seen, but he was also the most infuriating. As he exited the car, she grabbed her bag from the footwell, making sure she hadn’t marked or scuffed any of the furnishings, wishing she could erase her presence from the car as much as the evening. She was about to reach for the handle when the car door swung open, to reveal Loukis standing there, offering her his hand.

Social etiquette did not compensate for rudeness, however it would be churlish to refuse, so she placed her hand in his, trying to disguise the momentary shock she felt as his fingers wrapped around hers. Tingles zipped up her hand to her wrist and forearm, raising the fine hairs as if she were in the midst of an electrical storm. A storm that held them both at the centre in a moment of complete calm. From where she sat looking up at him, he appeared to loom over her. His eyes intent, one brow slightly furrowed as if he was confused about something—a confusion she felt too as her heartbeat picked up speed to match his where she felt his pulse against her wrist.

* * *