Rumors Behind the Greek's Wedding

‘Would you be willing to part with them?’

‘If I have to.’ He would be willing to part with anything if it helped his cause.

Célia’s rapid round of questions was brought to a halt by the appearance of the sommelier. He proffered the bottle to him, but Loukis directed the tasting to Célia. He watched as she swirled the wine once and inhaled before tasting, then nodding her approval. Again, Loukis found himself bemused by a woman who looked as if her entire dress that evening was cheaper than the price of the bottle of wine they were about to drink. A feeling apparently shared by the sommelier, who filled their glasses modestly and left.

‘What is more important to you in this event, the clientele and publicity or the funds raised for the charity?’

He knew that she would prefer the latter, but he couldn’t jeopardise this. It was his last chance to bolster a ravaged reputation. Delaying the moment her displeasure would be revealed, he sidestepped the answer.

‘Is this a test?’

‘No, it helps determine what kind of charity to approach. If your goal is to make the greatest impact on the charity, then it would be best to approach one in great need, even if it were something that perhaps might not be on many people’s radar. If, however, as I am inclined to believe, you are looking for a great personal impact, then a charity that could draw many celebrities, and therefore attention, would be where I start looking.’

If there was any hint of censure in her tone, Loukis could not detect it. ‘No way to do both, I suppose?’

‘Mr Liordis—I, we, match business leaders with charities. All money raised is a gift to them. And trust me, I will be charging you an obscene amount of money in order to achieve this. Money that will go towards the future investment of more money for more charities. Our endeavour may be hopeful and charitable but, make no mistake, it is also business minded.’

She was such a strange combination of steel encased in silk that he had to work hard to focus on the issue at hand and not on Célia herself.

‘How obscene?’

‘Very,’ she said, with the smallest of smiles curving the rosebud lips upwards enticingly. She took a sip of her wine, her eyes narrowing a fraction, before putting the glass back down on the table.

‘You don’t like the wine?’

‘I had started out the evening looking forward to an Australian Pinot Gris, a small bowl of soup and perhaps one episode of the period drama I’m currently watching. And yet...’ She shrugged, her hands open before her as if to say, Here we are.

‘Surely that is sacrilegious?’

‘My preference in wine?’

He cocked his head to one side in answer to her question.

‘Only for purists.’

It was on his tongue to probe the question of her purity further and realised instantly that he would not be talking about the wine. Three years ago nothing would have stopped the line falling from his lips. But three years ago he had been a very different man. At least the spell she seemed to have woven over him had not yet quite short-circuited his sense of decorum.

As if that self-imposed morality had returned, he suddenly felt guilty for disrupting an evening she seemed to have very much wanted. And for the first time that evening, he took in the signs of exhaustion about her eyes. Very well disguised, but still they were signs that he recognised, certainly in the first few months, if not more, when his life had been turned upside down by his mother three years ago. Not that he would take them back for a second. And that timely reminder put him back on track. Célia and her tiredness didn’t matter. That she delivered what he needed did. Very much.

‘So, you will arrange the event and the charity for the end of June?’

‘Yes. On one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘That you are present this time, Mr Liordis.’

* * *

Célia watched his eyes narrow. For a moment, it felt almost as if they had breached the business talk, as if Loukis’s ruthless pursuit of a positive reputation had been forgotten. She’d felt as if he’d been about to ask something...but whatever softness, whatever sense of unmasking she had sensed had quickly withdrawn behind a look of fury.

‘I

do not make that request to be difficult,’ she quickly added. ‘If you are to achieve what you desire, then it is important that you are there.’

‘I will be.’

The waiter arrived with their meals, but suddenly Célia was no longer hungry. The smell from the scallop and lobster tortellini with a bisque broth was incredible, but she couldn’t shake Loukis’s steady gaze. She forced herself to pick up her fork, cut into the silky pasta and the soft mousse of the filling, and as she raised it to her mouth she looked up to find his hawklike eyes still on her. As if daring her to consume it beneath his gaze.