Her pretty amber eyes flashed ominously.
‘It is for your benefit as much as mine, I assure you.’ His statement did nothing to dampen the narrowing of her gaze, or the warning it contained. He sighed, resisting the urge to place his head in his hands. ‘I will obviously support financially any expenditure generated by this.’
‘Oh, that’s okay, then. Because of course my first concern was being out of pocket. Not the fact that you want me to lie to the press, a court of law and your little sister.’
‘She is the reason I’m doing this. The only reason. Her happiness and security are my primary concern. I will find you six new clients. I will ensure that your time in this will not be detrimental to you or your business. I will do everything in my power to make this as seamless and painless as possible. Do you agree?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Of course you do. If you make the right one, you’ll be fine.’
The unspoken threat hung in the air between them. Loukis could honestly say that this was an all-time low, even for him, but he’d not been left with much of the same choice that Célia seemed to desperately want for herself. He held his breath until he saw her head bow and caught her gently muttered agreement.
‘Great. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up first thing tomorrow morning.’
No ring, no words of love, no undying declaration. Paperwork. A signature. What on earth had she got herself into?
* * *
Time seemed to move differently for Célia the moment she had aligned herself with Loukis. As if under his expressive hands it sped up and slowed down, bent to his will.
She hated that he had been right. Right about the reaction from the world’s press, the accusatory headlines at first placing a notch beside her name on his bedpost. Then after a very carefully worded release from both his company and Chariton Endeavours, she was scrubbed out, removed from that particular wooden totem, and placed beside his name as some kind of wonder; the woman who had tamed the playboy.
He had also been right about the need for her to leave Paris, where her apartment simply wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of nearly one hundred reporters armed with cameras and notepads. Her neighbours had all but requested her removal from the premises, not wholly unreasonably considering hers weren’t the only rubbish bags that had been picked through with a fine-tooth comb.
But it was Ella that had surprised her the most. She had expected caution, concern, questions...not the high-pitched squeal of joy Célia put down to post-pregnancy hormones. Somehow she’d wanted Ella just to know. To realise that this was beyond Célia’s usual behaviour. To understand that there were other forces, namely Loukis Liordis, at play. But Ella had only been full of questions Célia didn’t feel equipped to answer. What was their first date like, their first kiss? When did she know he was ‘the one’? The fact that none of these things had actually happened suddenly and painfully stuck in Célia’s mind.
And then, after the litany of questions, came the deep sigh and, ‘I’m so pleased that you’ve moved on. It’s been such a long time since Marc...’
And that had been too much. Célia had ended the call, disconnecting the painful conversation so much easier than preventing the memories from surfacing.
Because they had surfaced and hung within her all the way through the flight to Greece. The hurt, the confusion...the way, just as everything she’d thought she’d known about herself and her life was shifting, Marc—her last mooring—had removed himself, all the while blaming her.
Which was why, when she arrived back at Loukis’s estate just outside Athens, she wasn’t prepared for the presence of a small, bespectacled woman, dressed head to toe in black, with a ponytail so severe Célia almost winced in empathy for her hair follicles.
‘You see what I’m dealing with?’ demanded Loukis, without even looking up at her from where he was furiously typing away on his laptop.
The woman’s close scrutiny both up and down Célia’s entire being was intrusive to say the least.
‘I see,’ the woman replied, drawing out the second word as if it could convey the gravity of the situation. What situation they were referring to, though, Célia had no idea.
She jumped when the woman approached with a feline grace and began to walk a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circuit around her. Célia was speechless until the m
oment the bespectacled woman leaned in to within inches of her face and uttered a low hum.
‘What is going on?’ Célia demanded. She had always hated such close inspection. In fact, it was precisely why she continued to choose the most unassuming, blandly coloured clothing. She just didn’t want to invite that kind of observation.
‘Have her to me by three this afternoon.’
Loukis gave a wave of acknowledgement and the woman disappeared.
‘Hello, Loukis. It’s nice to see you. Yes, my flight was good, thank you for asking. No, I’ve already eaten and yes, I think I would like something to drink now.’
Finally he looked up, slightly confused.
Only the moment he did, she wished he hadn’t. With his hair slightly tousled as if he’d run his hand through it more than once, his shirt loose at the neck...the moment that confusion cleared from his gaze, his eyes hit her like arrows. It was a little too much. She had forgotten the impact that he could make.
She fiddled with her handbag, aware that her few suitcases were being dropped off in the hallway behind her.