Rumors Behind the Greek's Wedding

The lunch had lasted long into the afternoon and dusk was beginning to fall as Loukis paid the bill, much to Yalena’s mocking disgruntlement. With deft acuity, he’d been able to keep much of the focus on Iannis and Yalena rather than on Célia and himself, Yalena’s husband more than happy to indulge in schoolboy memories shared by them both. And Loukis realised that he’d missed it. Missed the easy laughter of unweighted adult conversation. Much of the last three years of his life had been spent focused solely on Annabelle and shielding her from an outside gaze. Once Célia had realised that she’d secured not only another client, but one that had clearly inspired her, she had relaxed, joining in the gentle mockery between the two couples.

She had opened up under the gentle encouragement of those around her and it had been glorious. But he hadn’t missed how she skirted around her own past, her parents and life before Chariton Enterprises. There had been a few of her own childhood stories of a Swiss boarding school with Ella, and her friend’s marriage and recent baby news, but of herself, very little. And he still couldn’t quite work out how the drone fitted with the charitable endeavours.

Emerging onto the stone street from the restaurant, they were greeted by a swarm of paparazzi and a hail of flashbulbs.

Yalena reached for him, kissing his cheeks in farewell.

‘They’re a little feisty this evening. Perhaps they caught wind of your news?’ she said, sotto voce, to Célia and Loukis.

Célia looked towards him as if expecting an explanation, but he simply shrugged. ‘It wasn’t me.’

Iannis gave him a half-hug, ordered him not to let it go so long next time, turned to his wife and asked, ‘Ready to run the gauntlet?’

The two disappeared and Loukis was a little disconcerted that they didn’t manage to take any of the vultures with them.

He placed an arm around Célia’s shoulder. ‘The car should be waiting in the back street. Ready?’

She tucked herself a little more deeply into his side. He knew it was for protection, but he couldn’t help the streak of sensation that fired up and down the length of his body.

The moment they stepped forward, the questions began. The shouts and flashes were enough to bring on PTSD. He felt Célia tremble beside him and realised how intimidating and scary this would be for someone not accustomed to it.

‘Congratulations! How did he do it, Célia?’

‘Did he get down on one knee?’

‘Ms d’Argent—any comment on the news about your father?’

Célia stumbled, her foot twisting, and she would have fallen had it not been for his arm around her shoulders. Loukis bit back a curse.

‘What does François Paquet think of his future son-in-law?’

The name of the renowned French defence contractor cut through his anger with shocking intensity. Paquet was her father?

‘Any response to the claims you’ve bagged another billionaire, Célia?’

‘When was the last time you spoke to your ex, Marc Moreau?’

At this, he’d had enough. He turned to the seething mass around him. ‘Ladies and gentlemen—’ though the friendly appellation stuck in his throat ‘—is it not a bit uncouth to ask about the father, ex-partner and current fiancé all in the same breath?’

His tone had been light and mocking, received with laughter by most. But those that knew him, were familiar with him, held a trace of unease. For that was when he was at his most deadly.

‘I would love to expound on this further, but as we have already agreed to a private interview with a reputable journalist, you will have to read it alongside everyone else.’

‘We have an interview?’ she whispered, from where she remained tucked into his shoulder as they rounded the corner towards the safe haven of the limousine.

‘We will once you tell me what the hell all this is about,’ he bit out. ‘Get in the car.’

Célia slid into the limousine, her body protected from the strobe lights of the paparazzi, but her thoughts flayed by the repeated bursts of shocking white.

Her heart pounded in her chest. The rush of adrenaline soured by self-recrimination. She should have known that they would find out. Should have prepared for it. Denial had not been enough to protect her from their piercing gaze.

The moment the door closed behind Loukis the sleek town car sped off, sending the sprawling mass scattering. The atmosphere in the dark interior was full of tension, as Loukis’s barely leashed control seemed to strain against his hold over it. Her own pulse seemed to thump within the thick air.

‘I...’

A gesture of his hand cut through the space between them, silencing her. She stifled back the words, unsure really where she would have begun anyway.

As the car wound its way towards Loukis’s estate, the silence and tension filled the space between them to the point where Célia feared she might not be able to draw breath.