Every little bit would help her end goal.
The biggest risk of this plan, however, was that Dion would report back to her father. It would be a delicate balance, trying to make her newfound quirkiness feel so real that she didn’t tip him off. Sophia looked down at her outfit and frowned…maybe the beads and sandals with socks were a bit over-the-top. She might have to tone it down next time. If it felt like a ploy, then he’d be more likely to rat her out. If she nailed her performance, however, then hopefully he’d feel so awkward about the whole thing that he’d back out of the deal and find another company to buy.
Well, that was the hope, anyway.
“So, where to now?” she asked. “I’m guessing you’ll want to introduce me to lots of people.”
“I thought we might have a quiet night,” he replied. Was that the original plan, or had he decided on that after meeting her? It was hard to tell. “Dinner at home so we can get to know each other.”
On the surface, it sounded like the perfect option. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up with her, and if they went out to a restaurant she might face-plant in her meal. Funny as that would be, she didn’t want to risk drowning herself in a bowl of soup on night one. But the idea of spending time alone with Dion unnerved her.
The longer they stood there, the more ridiculously good-looking he seemed to become. The photos were a poor reflection of his magnetic pull in real life. His dark hair was thick and shiny, and the way it curled ever so slightly over his ears made her fingers itch to brush it back. His face had all the right elements. He was probably one of those rare people whose face was perfectly symmetrical.
That’s why you’re attracted to him. It’s nothing but symmetry and evolution making you see him as a viable mate.
Oh god. Viable mate? Sophia swallowed and whipped her head in the other direction so he wouldn’t see the heat rushing to fill her cheeks.
Do not, under any circumstances, think about Dion Kourakis as a mate. In fact, don’t think about mating at all. With anyone.
Alone time was a bad idea.
“You know, I’d love to get out and see Corfu. If this is going to be my new home, then I don’t want to waste any time at all in getting to know it.” She squeezed his arm and stifled a smirk at the resulting flinch of his muscles. “I want you to take me to your most favorite restaurant.”
“My most favorite,” he echoed.
“The one place you would recommend people to go if they were visiting.”
“Okay.” He nodded. “If that’s really what you want.”
Not even a little bit. “Yes. It’s what I want.”
It’d been hell emailing Dion last week, saying she was excited to meet him. Excited to “join their families.” Ugh, gag. But Sophia’s father had read her emails in the past, and she couldn’t risk anything giving her plans away.
“You sure you’re not too tired after the trip?” He looked down at her, a charming smile on his lips. She had no doubt that smile convinced a lot of people to do a lot of things.
Sophia would need to be immune to that smile. As far as she was concerned, Dion was as much a barrier to her freedom as her father. So, no matter what, she had to resist him.
“Suddenly, I feel full of energy,” she lied. “A shower would be great, and then we can hit the town.”
He nodded.
“I wasn’t expecting you to meet me at the airport,” she said. Now why on earth did that pop out of her mouth?
“I thought it might be nice for you to arrive to a friendly face.”
Dammit. Guilt twinged low in her gut. She felt bad messing with this unsuspecting guy who, from their brief interaction so far, actually seemed like a decent person. She didn’t want to hurt him, and she hated lying. But they were in opposition, and Sophia wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Yours is a very friendly face.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
“Thank you.” Dion brought a fist up to his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Is this, uh…the first time you’ve done this?” All her curiosities were bubbling away, like champagne that had been shaken and uncorked.
Or un-canned…if that was even a word.
He was hot as heck, and he didn’t seem to have the hallmarks of a complete asshole. So why was he saying yes to her father? Surely the man was capable of finding his own wife. There’d be a line around the block if he said he was looking for someone to fill that role. And why would he want her father’s company if it was so riddled with debt? Unless that wasn’t true. She wouldn’t put it past her father to lie to her.
Dion’s eyebrows rose. “Met a woman at an airport?”
“No, I mean more about the whole arranged-marriage thing.” Was it her brain’s way of trying to find something out about him that might help her continue this charade uninhibited by her conscience? “Have you been married before?”
“No. Have you?”
“No.”
Never will be, either.
Before the conversation could go any further, their car arrived, and Dion extracted himself from her grip. Was it her imagination, or was there a brief flash of relief in his eyes?
He pulled the door open and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “After you, Sophia.”
A shiver ran the length of her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. The gently-accented English was like a drug winding its way through her system. If only she were here under different circumstances, she would have been thrilled to be on this beautiful island with a gorgeous man all to herself.
But that was a fantasy for another day. She was determined not to be her father’s bargaining chip. She would get out of this mess, take the money she’d saved, and start her new life.
That’s right, keep thinking about your dream cottage with all the beautiful trees and singing birds.
Solitude, peace. Being her own boss. That’s what she was working toward.
Unfortunately for Dion, she had a whole list of weird and wacky things that would make her look like the fiancée from hell. Dion Kourakis was about to wish he’d never agreed to marry her.
Chapter Three
Dion slumped in his office chair and rubbed his palms over his face. After bringing Sophia back to his house, he’d shown her to a guest room, and Silas had brought her bags in. Currently, she was showering before they were due to go out to dinner. But Dion was already having reservations about anyone seeing him in public with her.
Perhaps she was trying to dress comfortably for the trip?
He doubted it. The itchy cardigan couldn’t possibly be comfortable on anyone’s skin, let alone for a long-haul flight. No, there had to be more to it than that.
Dion never liked to think of himself as a shallow person, and he knew that the value of a person came from the inside—from intelligence and personality and humor and loyalty. But the fact was, appearances did matter. At least in his world. As the “face” of Precision Investments, with more than five thousand people employed across Europe and a further two thousand elsewhere in the world, he needed to be presentable at all times. Hence why Nico claimed that he was the brains and Dion was the beauty.
Joking aside, there was some merit to it. Not the beauty bullshit, of course, but how he presented to the world was a reflection of his company, a reflection of the job security his employees enjoyed. As he was one of the wealthiest men not only in Greece, but in all of Europe, he was subject to scrutiny. Heading out for a night on the town with a woman who dressed like she’d rifled through a dumpster wasn’t going to attract the kind of attention he needed or wanted.
What would Elias say?
Dion’s business mentor, a man who’d been like a father to him over the years, would say that perception was reality. What people thought of you was what they would believe to be the truth.
It was the mantra Dion had built himself upon. Creating the perception that he was confident, savvy, and worldly hid the fact that he was still the orphan boy who’d grown up unloved and u
nwanted. That he wasn’t worth anything to anybody. He’d made people see him as worthy, and then over time he’d become worthy.
Perception. Reality. The two were inexorably linked.
Which meant he would need to deal with the Sophia situation carefully. He needed Cyrus’s company—needed to know that everything his father built was gone. Razed to the ground. He wouldn’t be able to get closure and move on until he knew that there was nothing left of the life Aristos Katopodis made when he abandoned his only son and moved to the United States.
And all of that was to say that he couldn’t call Cyrus Andreou and say his pride and joy wasn’t good enough…although now Dion was starting to understand why the other man was trying to get a marriage deal thrown in with a business contract.
Dion reached for his phone and dialed the number of his favourite restaurant. “Ersi? It’s Dion. I need your help.”
He detailed his plan to the woman who ran Vlahos Taverna. He’d known Ersi since he was a teenager, when he’d gotten by washing dishes and waiting tables once he’d left the orphanage. Ersi and her husband ran the restaurant and had treated him like one of their own, always making sure he had a hot meal. When he made his first million, he’d cut her a check big enough to take care of the restaurant’s rent for a year. When one million had turned into ten, he’d bought the building outright and let her run her restaurant rent-free.
She didn’t hesitate to let him cash in a favor.
Dion stashed his phone in his pocket and wandered out in the main area of the house. It was mostly silent now. He’d dismissed Kristina for the night, given Sophia had requested to eat out, and the other staff had gone home hours before. He’d even sent Silas home.
Sophia must still be getting ready, because her bedroom door was shut with a telltale thin beam of light shining through the crack at the bottom.
Dion drummed his fingers on the wall unit where his turntable sat. He’d inherited a Linn Sondek LP12 from Elias when the older man had been cleaning out a storage unit after his divorce years ago. He’d shown a young Dion how to use it and how to care for the vinyl records that went with it. For a kid who’d never had a radio or an iPod growing up, hearing only music selected by the sisters, which was mostly church hymns and traditional Greek music, this gift had been an entrance into a new world. Being able to erase silence whenever he wanted made him feel in control of his life for the first time.
Silence had been the sound of his childhood—be quiet for prayer, be quiet for bedtime, be quiet for lessons. He’d envied the families outside the grounds of the orphanage, envied the sound of squealing and shouting and laughter. Envied the music floating out from houses and car windows, everything from nineties grunge to electro-pop and the old, soothing crooners of bygone eras. Since then, he’d never let himself dwell in silence for too long.
“I’m ready!” A cheery voice grabbed his attention.
Sophia was dressed in a brown dress that hung down to her mid-calf, above the Birkenstocks from earlier that day. This time there were no socks, but her toenails were painted a retina-searing acid green. With glitter. The cherry on top was her hair. She’d teased her brown hair into a puffy ball on top of her head. It looked like one of those pom-poms you might find on a hat at a ski lodge.
Dion forced in a breath. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I am.” She rubbed her stomach. “And I hope you’ve got a special place picked out. I want to get to know all of your favorite things. If we’re going to be married, then I need to know everything about you.”
He’d expected some hesitation from her over the marriage thing. Hell, he’d hesitated himself. It had taken him a full two weeks to process Cyrus’s offer—or, rather, ultimatum—and come to grips with the idea of marrying a stranger. Seeing his mentor hooked up to half a dozen different machines after having a fall in his home, with tubes coming out of every orifice, had finally pushed him over the edge.
The old man still had a twinkle in his eye, despite his nurses buzzing around him like protective bees. He’d still had enough breath to tell Dion that he believed in him. That he was worth something. If not for Elias, Dion might never have found his way in life. Certainly no thanks to the man who’d gotten his poor mother pregnant and then decided he didn’t want to deal with the consequences after she died.
Closure was now within Dion’s grasp—he could shut the final page of his father’s book. He wanted that feeling so bad he could taste it…so bad he would marry a stranger.
“We have plenty of time to get to know each other.” Dion motioned for her to follow him outside. “Your father told me that you’ve been working in the family business.”
“That’s right. I’ve been doing some general admin,” she replied. “And I have my own virtual-assistant business, too.”
Outside, Dion’s white McLaren—the car he liked to drive when he wasn’t being chauffeured by Silas—sat in the driveway. The sun had set some time ago, but the lights dotted around the garden brightened the front of the house. He unlocked the car and held the door for her.
“Ah, so you’re a businesswoman. I’m sure we’ll have a lot to talk about, then.”
“Sure, although it’s not my real passion in life, to be honest.” She looked at him expectantly, as though waiting for an invitation to elaborate.
“What would you rather be doing?” he asked.
The car’s engine rumbled as he pulled out of the circular path in front of the four-car garage. A warm breeze carried the salty tang of the ocean into the car.
“You know, I’m really passionate about taxidermy.” Sophia nodded as though this was the most natural thing to say. “There’s something about animals that fascinates me.”
“Taxidermy?” He frowned. “Like, stuffing dead animals?”
“Stuffing or mounting,” she said. “It includes both.”
Was she…joking? Her expression didn’t reveal even a sliver of amusement.
“I see it as a way to prolong an animal’s life,” she explained. “I know it might seem a little strange, but trust me. When I bring my collection over, you’ll see how wonderful it is.”
He gulped. “Your collection?”
“Yes, I have a huge collection. Squirrels and racoons and a couple of cats. I even have a fox. She’s a real beauty. I was thinking we could put her in the living room. Or maybe the foyer, so she can greet guests.” She clapped her hands together. “Baroness Sasha Foxington III would absolutely love that.”
Baroness. Sasha. Foxington the fucking third.
Was he in a nightmare right now?
“I, uh…saw you’ve done some volunteer work at a children’s hospital,” he said as he steered the car along the winding road that ran the length of Corfu’s coast. He’d driven it so many times he knew every curve. But tonight, the road seemed to stretch on forever, as if time had been slowed down and he was trying to drive through sludge.
“You’ve done your homework,” she said with a nod. “Impressive.”
“I wanted to make sure I’d recognize you at the airport.” He cringed as soon as the words popped out, but he covered it by rubbing one hand over his jaw. “That’s a very admirable line of work.”
“Do you like children?” she asked.
“I guess so, although I’ve never had any in my life before. But my business partner recently had a little girl, and she’s adorable.”
She nodded. “Are there any hospitals or medical centers here in Corfu? I would really like to keep up my volunteer work.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, he detected a sweetness in her voice. A sincerity. “Yes, there is. I’m sure they would love to have another volunteer.”
“That would be great.”
After a stretch of awkward silence, Dion pulled the car into Vlahos Taverna. But rather than parking in the front with the rest of the restaurant-goers, he continued down a small path that lead to the back of the building and pulled up next to a simple red sedan.
“This i
s it.” He opened his car door, and Sophia followed.
They entered the restaurant through the staff door at the back, and he waved to Ersi, who was busy ordering her staff around with a voice he knew could strike fear into the hearts of grown men. When she looked up, her face split into a huge grin, and suddenly her tone was soft as butter.
“Dion!” She threw her arms open and enveloped him in a hug.
“This is Sophia.” He’d already told Ersi that Sophia didn’t speak much Greek and requested they converse in English so she felt included. “She landed in Corfu today.”
“Welcome. Any friend of Dion’s is a friend of mine.” She hugged Sophia. “Come, come. I have the best table in the house set up for you.”
Ersi lead them through to a small room that was nestled between the kitchen and the main restaurant area. It was intimately set for two, a candle burning in the center and cutlery gleaming on a blue and white table cloth.
“This is our private room. We use it for functions and important guests, so please make yourself at home,” Ersi said. “I’ll have Alex come in shortly to get you started.”
“A private room, huh?” Sophia said as she took a seat. Her dark gaze tracked his every movement. “You sure know how to pull out all the stops.”
If only you knew.
But this was a Band-Aid solution. Tomorrow, there was a cocktail party with important business associates and some of the senior staff from Precision Investments. Dion’s life was a public one, and that meant he couldn’t hide his future wife away in private dining rooms for the rest of their lives.
He needed to figure out how the hell he was going to tactfully help Sophia Andreou step out of the dress-up bin and into the role of wife of a billionaire. Shopping. Lots of women loved shopping, right?
He made a mental note to get his assistant to contact a personal shopper tomorrow. He would make this work. As he unfolded his menu, a genuine smile curved his lips for the first time since meeting his fiancée.
…
Stunning gray fox taxidermy. Freestanding, life-size. Not mounted on a stand or plaque, but could be mounted if you choose to do so. The fox measures 26” long (tip to tip) and 16” tall.
How to Lose a Fiance Page 3
