Not Just the Greek's Wife

“I notice you evince no concern on my behalf,” Ariston interjected in a teasing tone.

She found no humor to match his at that moment. “You do exactly what you like, Ariston.”

“Are you implying that I shanghaied Angela? I can assure you that is not the case.”

“No, indeed,” the event coordinator affirmed. “Ariston presented a very appealing offer, both in terms of remuneration and scope.”

“Then, here’s hoping his perception meets reality for you.” Because Chloe would not be happy with either of them if Angela didn’t follow through on the job.

If Chloe put their departure off with one more excuse, Ariston fully intended to simply pick her up and carry her off to the airport.

She’d insisted she needed to go over things with her new managers one last time, and then that the mayor had to meet Angela Carston and approve her taking over Chloe’s role as fundraiser for the community auction. Chloe hadn’t stopped there though, as Ariston might reasonably expect.

No, she’d then been adamant that she needed to call one of the local artists personally and tell him she was leaving for New York. According to Chloe, she’d already introduced him to the new managers, but the artist was both brilliant and a recluse, which meant a little extra coddling to make sure he knew he wasn’t being forgotten.

Ariston had actually found himself getting jealous until Chloe informed him the artist was in his sixties and determinedly gay.

When she’d said … finally … that she needed to pack her things up in the hotel room, that at least Ariston had been able to do something about. He’d instructed his security team to take care of it while Chloe and Angela met with the mayor.

But the meeting was over and Ariston was ready to be on the road. Had been hours ago, to be precise. “Come, Chloe. It is a ninety-minute drive to the airport.”

“Yes, I know.” Chloe took a last sweeping glance around her hotel room, much as she had the gallery when they’d left it.

He did not see what could have put that wistful look in her emerald eyes. “Surely you will not miss living out of suitcases?”

“I wasn’t,” she contradicted while following him to the car.

“No. You had unpacked and organized your belongings as if preparing for a long stay.” He helped her into the back of the rented limo and the door shut behind them.

“Where is Angela?”

“She’s riding with the security team in the SUV.”

Chloe craned her neck to see out the tinted windows. “But I thought we were going to discuss what she will be doing in my stead.”

“Didn’t you already cover it in your meeting with the mayor?” he asked with some exasperation.

“Not all of it.”

“You will have plenty of time on the plane.”

The limo started to move and Chloe finally nodded and settled back in her seat.

They rode in silence for several miles, leaving the small town behind. Chloe’s beautiful green eyes never once strayed from the view out the window.

“You will miss your life here,” he realized aloud.

“Yes.”

Her easy agreement with no caveat that she was looking forward to returning to their life together bothered him. Her life here had been short and not where she was supposed to be.

He felt compelled to ask, “Do you regret agreeing to my proposal?”

“Business proposition, you mean,” she said very carefully, her tone tired and tinged with sadness he did not like to hear.

No more did he understand it. He was offering her a life only a minuscule number would ever witness, much less truly experience.

“You will never want for anything,” he promised her. “You will not regret returning to the Spiridakou family.”

“Won’t I?” Her troubled green gaze remained fixed on the view out the window.

A sense of impending doom had him crossing the limo, reaching to close the privacy window between the driver and them as he sat down beside her. “No, you will not. This is my vow to you.”

Finally, she looked up at him, emerald gaze measuring. “It isn’t something you can control, Ariston.”

“We shall see.” He would not argue with her. He would show her.

Then she would believe him and he would not even say, I told you so. In the interim, the time had come to remind her one of the reasons they worked as a couple.

Cupping her cheek, the feel of her soft skin under his hand hitting him deep in his gut, he lowered his head toward hers.

“What are you doing?” she gasped.

He smiled, letting his lips brush hers. “If you have forgotten, then three weeks is definitely too long to be apart.”