The Greek's Bride of Convenience

by Helen Bianchin

  ‘It hasn’t occurred to you to venture into the field of design?’

  ‘No. It’s a cut-throat trade, and you need to be a true artist. I prefer accessories. Matching up shoes, belts, whether to add a scarf and, if so, how it should be worn.’ Her eyes had darkened with enthusiasm, and her voice held genuine warmth. ‘Jewellery—even the right hairstyle, make-up. The entire composition. I often suggest changes, and Jacques usually goes along with them.’

  ‘All in aid of making women appear beautiful.’

  Lexi looked at him, deliberately searching for mockery, yet, if he had intended any, it was carefully hidden.

  ‘A woman’s true beauty comes from within,’ she revealed slowly. ‘It radiates through her skin, shows in her smile, and is reflected in her eyes. If she’s not happy with herself, or lacks self-esteem, then it is generally apparent in mannerisms. Body language.’ Her gaze became startlingly direct. ‘With care and skill a woman can learn to make the best of her natural attributes, no matter what her size or age.’

  ‘Gilding an outer shell, which, with expert marketing, grosses enormous profits for the various merchandisers.’

  ‘Perhaps. But it isn’t confined to women. Men like to present the outer trappings of their success in fine clothes.’ She ran an experienced eye over his suit. ‘Unless I’m mistaken, that’s tailored by Ermenegildo Zegna. And your shoes are hand-stitched—either French or Italian imports.’

  His smile proved to be a disruptive force, curving his mouth and lightening the harsh lines of his chiselled features. ‘Are you implying that I project a required image?’

  She responded with a winsome smile. ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘An astute entrepreneur,’ she ventured quietly. ‘Someone who wouldn’t suffer fools gladly.’

  ‘What about Georg Nicolaos, the man?’

  For some reason she felt as if she’d skated on to dangerously thin ice. ‘A contradiction between cruelty and kindness.’

  ‘Ah—honesty.’ Georg laughed softly, and one glance at those gleaming dark eyes revealed that he wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

  ‘Shall we have dinner?’

  Lexi needed no second bidding, and she allowed him to lead her to the elegantly appointed dining-room, where within minutes he transferred serving dishes from the kitchen on to the table.

  There was soup as a starter, a delicately flavoured leek and potato which tasted like liquid ambrosia, followed by luscious prawns in a delicate sauce served on a bed of rice.

  The portions were temptingly small, so that she consumed every morsel, and the main course was an exquisite coq au vin.

  There was wine—a clear sharp white—and chilled water, and dessert was a superb crème caramel.

  ‘That was—perfect,’ Lexi complimented, leaning back in her chair, fully replete.

  ‘A compliment?’

  ‘You can’t possibly cook like that every night,’ she declared in wistful disbelief, and caught his slow musing smile. ‘Do you ever eat alone?’ she asked, genuinely curious.

  ‘Not often,’ Georg responded indolently. ‘I make a practice of dining with Mama once a week, and Samantha and Alex insist I join them on frequent occasions. Anna and Nick, also. Then, of course, the restaurant, and the inevitable social interludes…’ He let his voice trail off as he effected an elegant shrug. ‘However, there are times when I enjoy a quiet evening at home.’

  ‘Samantha is charming,’ Lexi voiced with sincerity.

  ‘She is a very beautiful woman. Genuine, caring. Exceptional.’

  Her eyes widened, and she glimpsed the darkness reflected in his own, then he smiled. ‘Shall we have coffee?’

  ‘Let’s dispense with the dishes first,’ she said, getting to her feet and beginning to stack plates together.

  ‘Leave them. My housemaid, Carla, is due tomorrow. She’ll attend to them.’

  ‘It won’t take long.’ She spared him a quick glance. ‘Unless you’re particularly protective about a woman invading your kitchen?’

  Shrugging off his jacket, he tossed it carelessly over a nearby chair, and she watched as he removed cufflinks and folded back the sleeves of his shirt.

  ‘In that case, we’ll do them together.’

  The kitchen was a delight, spacious and boasting every modern convenience imaginable. Apart from a collection of saucepans drying in a dish-rack atop the draining-board, there wasn’t a thing out of place.

  ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘With the kitchen?’

  His faint mockery did strange things to her equilibrium, and she concentrated on rinsing the crockery and cutlery while he stacked the dishwasher.

  ‘What made you decide to be a chef?’

  ‘My parents emigrated from Greece when Alex, Anna and I were very young. Papa owned three restaurants in Athens, and it was a natural progression for him to pursue the business here.’ He filled the percolator with water, extracted a filter and spooned in freshly ground coffee beans. ‘We all helped, waiting tables, the dishes, cleaning. Before school, after school, during semester breaks. Like all parents, they wanted great things for each of their children, and I followed Alex into university and studied for a business degree. Papa was taken ill not long after I graduated, and for a few years I worked in an office by day and managed the restaurant at night. Now we keep it for Mama’s sake. It represents so many memories for us all.’

  ‘She must be very proud of you.’

  ‘We are a very close family.’

  The strength of her own familial ties was such that she’d consented to an impossible charade with a man who was the antithesis of harmless.

  ‘All done.’ Lexi dried her hands, then watched as Georg set cups on to their saucers, then extracted sugar, liqueur and cream. His hands were large, and his forearms firmly muscled and liberally sprinkled with dark hair. Their actions displayed an economy of movement, and there was strength apparent as well as a degree of sensitivity.

  ‘Come into the lounge.’

  Said the spider to the fly, she echoed silently, wondering what quirk of cynical humour had promoted that thought to mind. ‘I must leave soon,’ she murmured out loud, and incurred his dark slanting glance.

  ‘Must?’

  ‘I need my beauty sleep,’ she quipped lightly as she followed him and settled comfortably into a single armchair.

  ‘We also need to plan the next week,’ Georg indicated as he took an opposite chair. ‘It was the reason I brought you here, so that we could discuss it rationally rather than risk argument in a public restaurant.’

  ‘I don’t argue,’ Lexi retaliated, only to give a rueful smile as she caught his raised eyebrow. ‘Well, not usually.’

  ‘I’m the exception?’

  She looked at him carefully. ‘Just because I recognise the necessity for this…deception—’ she paused deliberately ‘—doesn’t mean I have to like it.’

  The dark eyes sharpened, and for some inexplicable reason she had difficulty holding their concentrated gaze.

  ‘You find me—dislikeable?’

  She suddenly felt as if she’d stepped from the safe shallows into water way over her head. ‘No,’ she said honestly.

  ‘Yet you’re afraid.’

  It was a statement she didn’t deny. She had genuinely enjoyed his company tonight, even if she had been slightly on edge. And, if she was fair, she could only accord that fault as entirely her own.

  ‘I don’t feel entirely comfortable with you,’ she admitted, and saw his eyelids droop slightly, successfully veiling his expression.

  ‘Could that not be because we have yet to forge a friendship?’

  Could a woman ever be mere friend to someone like Georg Nicolaos? Somehow she doubted it.

  ‘You mentioned collaborating on our social calendar.’ Lexi broached the subject in an attempt to steer the conversation into safer channels.

  ‘There are the inevitable invitations issued at this time of year,’ he drawled, ‘few of whic
h I usually accept. However, there is a party to be held at the home of a friend which I think we should attend. Samantha and Alex have requested that we join them at a society ball, the proceeds from which are donated to make Christmas a more joyful occasion for a number of terminally ill children. It is considered to be the social event of the season.’

  ‘Good heavens,’ Lexi said faintly. ‘I’m due to fly to the Gold Coast on Thursday morning for a photographic shoot organised by the Mirage Resort. It will be followed early in the New Year by another at the sister resort in Port Douglas.’

  Georg’s eyes narrowed faintly. ‘How long will you be away?’

  She gave a slight shrug. ‘Overnight, on each occasion.’

  ‘Apart from that do you have any social obligations?’

  She looked at him, noting the apparent indolence, and wasn’t fooled in the slightest. ‘Jonathan, David and I usually attend a few pre-Christmas functions together.’ A faint sigh whispered from her lips. ‘I think I prefer an evening of solitude with a good book, or tuned in to a VCR.’

  ‘I can think of an infinitely more pleasurable way in which to spend the night hours,’ Georg drawled, and saw the faint blush of pink that crept into her cheeks.

  ‘I’m sure you can,’ Lexi managed equably. With unhurried movements she stood to her feet. ‘Would you mind if I phoned for a taxi?’

  His eyes trapped her own for far too long, and she had to glance away from that disturbing gaze. ‘You haven’t finished your coffee.’

  He was imperturbable, so maddeningly calm, and totally impervious to the agitation welling deep inside her. Lexi suddenly felt as if she were treading on eggshells.

  ‘Please.’ She attempted to keep her voice light and devoid of a degree of mounting tension. ‘I’d really like to leave.’

  ‘As soon as I finish my coffee I’ll take you home.’

  Reaching forward, she picked up the cup and saucer, spacing her movements so they appeared calm and unhurried as she sipped the remaining brew, then she carried the cup out to the kitchen and carefully rinsed it.

  When she turned he was there, and her pulse began an erratic beat as he moved close to place his cup and saucer in the sink. It simply wasn’t fair that she was overly sensitive to his potent brand of sexuality.

  ‘Ready?’

  She gave an indicative nod, and without a further word he turned and preceded her from the apartment.

  In the car she sat in silence, consumed by an acute sense of vulnerability. A number of conversational gambits rose to mind, but she ventured none of them, and she sat trapped in silence for a few interminable seconds as he brought the Ferrari to a halt outside her apartment block.

  ‘Thanks for dinner.’ Good manners insisted that she acknowledge his hospitality.

  ‘So—thank me.’

  She looked at him carefully, and wondered why she should suddenly feel threatened. All she had to do was reach forward and place her lips to his cheek.

  Except that he turned his head and her lips touched his mouth, and before she could retreat he lifted his hands to capture her head, and it was he who took command, he who turned what began as a casual salutation into an evocative embrace that made her aware of a magical, elusive alchemy.

  A treacherous weakness invaded her limbs as he wrought havoc with a ravaging exploration that brought a thousand tiny nerve-endings leaping into pulsating life, arousing feelings too complex to distinguish any one as she clung to him unashamedly.

  It was almost as if every pore of her skin became suffused with sweet aching pleasure beneath his mercilessly erotic plunder of her senses, and when at last he slowly released her she could only look at him in complete bewilderment.

  Without a word she reached for the door-handle and slid out from the passenger seat.

  The door snapped shut with a refined click, and she crossed to the main entrance without a backward glance, using her security card to gain access; it was only when she was safely indoors that she heard the muted roar of the Ferrari’s engine as it purred down one half of the semi-circular driveway.

  It was a relief to enter her apartment, and she secured the lock before crossing to the windows to close the curtains against the night sky.

  She felt incredibly restless, and far too emotionally uptight to sleep. Perhaps a long, leisurely soak in the spa-bath might ease some of her tension, and without further thought she wandered into the bathroom and filled the capacious tub.

  Half an hour later she emerged to towel herself dry, then, attired in a short cotton nightshirt, she slipped into bed to lie staring into the darkness for what seemed an age, before exhaustion finally claimed her in a deep, troubled sleep from which she woke late, dark-eyed and drained.

  * * *

  During the following few days Lexi deliberately maintained a low profile. She consulted with Jacques over the forthcoming shoot at the Gold Coast’s tourist resort, met Jonathan for lunch, completed some Christmas shopping, and spent an hour stretched out on a lounger beside the pool each afternoon, perfecting a tan. For two consecutive evenings she conjured up a suitable excuse to avoid seeing Georg, and on the third night she answered the doorbell to find him standing in the hallway.

  ‘Have you eaten yet?’ he drawled, and Lexi looked at him with exasperation as he moved into the lounge.

  ‘I planned on spending a quiet evening at home.’

  One eyebrow slanted in quizzical disbelief. ‘You’ve already done that two evenings in a row.’

  She heaved a faint sigh. ‘Is that an indication we should go out and play?’

  ‘What if I say…you get to choose the venue?’

  ‘You’re taking an awful risk,’ Lexi declared. ‘I may decide on a rock concert.’

  ‘Out of sheer perversity?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’ Humour lent her hazel-gold eyes an impish sparkle and she tilted her head to one side. ‘You’ll have to change. Where we’re going, anything else but jeans, T-shirt and joggers will be a fashion mis-statement.’

  ‘You have tickets?’

  A wide smile curved her mouth. ‘Indeed. Jacques did an outrageously successful shoot a few years ago for one of the leading agencies in town. Ever since, they’ve presented him with half a dozen tickets to each top promotion.’

  ‘I hardly dare ask which bands are featured,’ he drawled, almost wincing as she named two; then she added insult to injury by following them with three artists known for their explosive style on stage. ‘This is revenge, I gather?’

  ‘I sat through Madame Butterfly,’ she reminded him, and saw his eyes darken with cynical humour.

  ‘I doubt there is any comparison.’

  ‘It starts at eight.’

  ‘You’re determined?’

  The thought of having him suffer through hours of impossibly loud rock music was too great a temptation to miss! ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then get changed, and we’ll go back to my apartment.’

  ‘After which, when you’ve changed into casual gear, we’ll go straight on and grab a hamburger or eat something there.’ She saw his look of disbelief and managed to appear completely guileless. ‘Be a devil for once. I’m sure your digestive system will survive.’

  ‘More pertinent: will my eardrums?’

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ Lexi declared solemnly. ‘I’ve been to a number of rock concerts, and my hearing is still intact.’ She gestured towards the drinks cabinet. ‘Fix yourself something while I go change.’

  Ten minutes later she emerged clad in faded denims, a white T-shirt, white jogging shoes, and a denim jacket slung casually across her shoulders. Make-up was minimal and she’d twisted her hair into an elaborate pleat at her nape.

  ‘I suspect I’m in for a culture shock,’ Georg drawled as he followed her out of the apartment, and she spared him a laughing glance.

  The Ferrari traversed the short distance between Darling Point and Double Bay in record time, and Lexi watched the news on television while Georg effected a swift change of clothes.


  ‘Hmm,’ she accorded musingly as he re-entered the lounge a short while later. ‘You look almost—human.’

  He certainly looked different, having discarded the image of impeccably attired businessman for something infinitely more casual. Hip- and thigh-hugging jeans worn with a pale cotton shirt beneath a contrasting designer jacket was perfectly suitable attire in which to attend a rock concert. Yet somehow it failed to disguise the essence of the man and his innate ability to project an aura of power.

  ‘It would take only minutes to grill steak and prepare a salad.’

  ‘Hamburgers,’ Lexi negated firmly, moving towards the lobby.

  ‘Junk food.’

  ‘Surveys report there’s not as much junk in junk food as we’re led to believe. It can actually be quite high in nutritional value.’ She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Relax, Georg. You may just enjoy yourself.’

  That Lexi did was without doubt. The music was loud, but the sound-effects were without distortion, emitted at their sophisticated best and an audible attestation to superb technology. She clapped and sang with the rest of the audience, oblivious for the most part to the man who sat at her side.

  ‘Isn’t he great?’ Lexi enthused as one of Australia’s better-known vocalists took the stage for a popular encore—a song that had won him an Entertainer of the Year award the previous year. He was married, a devoted husband and father, and affectionately held his doting public in the palm of his hand. ‘He doesn’t just sing—he puts everything into it and becomes a part of the music itself.’ She turned towards Georg and was disconcerted to see that his attention was centred on her, not the band or the vocalist on stage. For a moment her breath locked in her throat as she became trapped by the expression in those dark eyes, then she swallowed and said fiercely, ‘The proceeds of this concert go to charity.’

  ‘You don’t need to justify anything,’ Georg drawled. ‘And you’re right. I am enjoying myself—watching you.’

  She felt incredibly vulnerable, and everything else faded as she glimpsed something she dared not define before she managed to tear her gaze away.