Not before it had cost the family a fortune in divorce settlements and mental anguish.
Frustrated by his father’s misguided optimism about the female sex, Angelos ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘Stay single. It’s less complicated.’
‘I’m not staying single. I hate being single. It isn’t natural for a man to be single. And you shouldn’t be single, either.’
Seeing that his father was about to launch into another lecture in favour of the curvaceous woman, Angelos decided that the conversation had gone on long enough. ‘You don’t need to worry about me. I’m seeing a woman.’ It wasn’t the relationship that his father was hoping for, but he didn’t need to know that.
His father scowled at him suspiciously. ‘Is she a proper shape?’
‘She is a perfect shape,’ Angelos drawled, thinking of the A list Hollywood actress who had spent two extremely exciting nights in his bed the week before. Would he be seeing her again? Possibly. She had the legs and the hair and she was definitely an athlete in the bedroom. Was he interested in marrying her? Absolutely not. They would bore each other to death within a month, let alone a lifetime.
But hope was already lighting his father’s eyes. ‘And when will I meet her? You never introduce me to your girlfriends.’
With good reason. Introducing a woman to his father would deliver the exact message he was so careful never to send. ‘When a woman is important to me, you will meet her,’ Angelos said smoothly. ‘And now I want to introduce you to Nicole. She’s my Director of Public Affairs here in Paris, and she definitely loves food. I know you’ll have plenty to say to one another.’ He guided his father towards the reliable Nicole, made the necessary introductions, and then turned back to the ballroom to continue networking.
And stopped dead, his attention caught by the woman directly in front of him.
She walked as though she owned the place, with a gentle swing of her hips and a faint smile on her glossy mouth, as if something or someone had amused her. Her blonde hair was piled on her head and her vivid red dress provided a dazzling splash of colour amidst the predictable boring black. She looked like an exotic rainforest bird let loose among a flock of crows.
Instantly forgetting the Hollywood actress, Angelos watched her for a moment and then gave a slow, satisfied smile of his own. His father would be pleased on two counts, he thought, as he moved purposefully towards the unknown woman. Firstly because he was about to stop thinking about business and turn his attentions to the pursuit of pleasure, and secondly because the source of that pleasure definitely, very definitely, had curves.
Not that he required her to perform the various domestic functions that his father had listed. Despite his father’s obvious concerns for him, he wasn’t interested in a woman’s capacity to cook, clean or raise his children. At this point in his life all he expected from a woman was entertainment, and she looked as though she’d been designed for exactly that purpose.
* * *
Smile, walk, smile, don’t panic—
It was like being back in the school playground, with the bullies circling like gladiators while the malevolent crowd of girls pressed in, watching with sadistic fascination. Waiting for the kill.
The memory was so disturbingly vivid that feelings of terror and humiliation stirred to life, catching her unawares. No matter how many years passed, her past was always there, lurking inside her like dark, filthy slime.
She struggled to throw off all her old insecurities.
It was ridiculous to think of that here, now, when that part of her life had ended long ago.
This wasn’t the playground, and she’d moved beyond that. The bullies might still be out there, but they couldn’t see her any more. Her disguise was perfect.
Or was it?
She shouldn’t have worn red. Red made her stand out like a beacon. And if she didn’t eat something soon she was going to pass out.
Didn’t anyone eat at these functions?
Wasn’t anyone else starving hungry?
No wonder they were thin.
Wishing she’d never decided to test herself in this way, Chantal attempted to stroll casually across the room. Confidence is everything, she reminded herself. Chin high, eyes up. Red is fine. They’re only people. Don’t let them intimidate you. They know nothing about you. From the outside you more or less look like them, and they can’t see who you are on the inside.
To distract herself, she played her usual game of make-believe. The game she’d invented as a means to survive in the lawless, ruthless environment she’d inhabited as a child. Her life had followed a pattern. A new playground, a new set of lies. A new layer of protection.
Who was she going to be this evening?
An heiress, maybe? Or possibly an actress?
A model?
No. Not a model. She would never be able to convince anyone that she was a model. She wasn’t tall enough or thin enough.