How to Lose a Fiance

by Stefanie London

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

  “You’re up to something.” He cocked his head. “The honored guest makes a spectacle of herself. Why?”

  Sophia swallowed. “You tell me.”

  “You’re making a statement.” He narrowed his eyes. “And you’re hiding behind that outfit.”

  The way he looked at her, like he could see every devious thought in her head, made her throat constrict. It felt like she was a bug trapped under his microscope. “Why do you care?”

  “I thought we might be able to help each other.” Theo pulled a business card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

  Theofanis Anastas: CEO Shine Corp. London.

  “How do you think you can help me?” she asked.

  “You’re an American, right?” His dark gaze cut through her like a laser, and Sophia forced herself not to recoil. “Dion has been trying to get his hands on some American company for the last five years. Now, all of a sudden, you turn up looking like the last person he would ever have at his party. Not only that, you’re his guest of honor.”

  Sophia’s cheeks burned at his assessment. But she could hardly be angry; it was exactly her goal to look as though she didn’t belong. So why did his words sting so much?

  “He’s calling you a family friend, but I suspect there’s more to it than that. Marriage, perhaps? An arranged marriage?”

  Sophia did her best to hide her surprised reaction. But Theo’s laser-like scrutiny picked up even the slightest of movements, and his lips lifted into a smirk.

  “Did I get it right?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She sniffed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  Theo planted a hand on the opposite wall of the hallway, blocking her exit. Bowing his head, he leaned forward. “If you want out of this situation, call me.”

  At that moment, Sophia’s skin prickled as the feeling of being watched crawled over her like a swarm of beetles. At the end of the hallway, Dion rounded the corner. Now the charming smile was gone, replaced by a tight-jawed, crinkle-browed look that made her nervous. But he smothered it so quickly she had to wonder if she’d imagined it.

  “Think about it,” Theo said as he removed his hand from the wall. “I can help you.”

  “I don’t need your help,” Sophia said primly as she forced herself to smile so it looked to Dion like they were two people engaging in friendly small talk. “Enjoy the party.”

  She headed down the hallway, her heels making soft clicking noises against the tiled floor. Dion’s charming mask returned.

  Too late, Dion. I saw that look, so I know there’s something under that smile.

  “I thought we might have lost our guest of honor,” he said, holding out a hand.

  “I’m still here.”

  Unfortunately.

  She allowed him to lead her outside, where the party was still in full swing. People were clustered around the yard, and the party was louder than it had been before. The drinks seemed to be working their magic, loosening tongues and keeping the conversation flowing. Sophia spotted Nico and Marianna sharing a touching moment while the baby snoozed in her arms, and he leaned over to kiss the top of Katherine’s downy head.

  For some reason, the image tugged at her heart. Would she ever share that kind of moment with someone? A moment of tenderness and love, unencumbered by manipulation and power plays?

  “What did Theo have to say?” Dion asked as he motioned to one of the waiters with a subtle gesture of his hand. A second later, they both had flutes of fizzing liquid.

  Sophia took a sip of the ice-cold champagne. Damn, it was good—smooth and crisp. Much like the man of the hour. Dion’s dark hair was loose and unstyled. It curled around his ears and kissed the collar of his white shirt at the back of his neck. Despite the very warm evening, he looked cool as a cucumber. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to expose strong forearms and a heavy watch hugging one wrist. He wore a small gold ring on his pinkie finger. It looked old…a family heirloom, perhaps.

  “Not much,” she said with a shrug. “He asked how I was enjoying Corfu so far.”

  Dion twisted the ring around his finger as if conscious of her scrutiny. “Anything else?”

  She raised a brow. “Are you looking for a particular answer?”

  He let out a short bark of a laugh and raked a hand through his hair. “No, I’m not. I didn’t mean to sound like I was giving you an inquisition.”

  “Who is he?” She’d sensed a tension between the men in the hallway. Theo’s offer to help her indicated that there was some bad blood between them or, at the very least, a thread of distrust. Dion’s interest now confirmed it.

  “That’s a complicated question.”

  Now she was even more intrigued. “Start with the simple answer.”

  “He’s a business acquaintance.”

  “And the complicated answer?”

  Dion looked out over the crowd like a beloved king surveying his people. It was hard not to notice how people flocked to him. Even as they stood deep in conversation, people drifted near, smiling and seeking him out. Power and influence. The man had it in excess. How had he acquired it? That was the important question. Had he bought it? Stolen it? Coerced someone into handing it over? Or maybe he was one of those rare kinds of men who’d earned it.

  Even if he did, you’ve seen what power does to people. What money does to people.

  She wanted no part of it.

  “The complicated answer would take longer than the amount of time I’m willing to have you standing at the side of this party.” Dion grinned and placed his hand at the small of her back.

  Despite her thoughts, the soft gesture sent a ripple through her, disturbing her certainty of who he was. The touch made a gentle hum in her blood, a pulse of awareness that made her mind focus on that spot. Through the lightweight silk fabric of her blouse, his strong fingers laid a gentle pressure on her. It was all too easy to imagine how it would feel to have him slip that hand down farther, tracing the curve of her ass.

  Sophia gulped, shoving the intrusive fantasy aside and mentally chastising herself for letting it go that far. Dion was not someone she could afford to be attracted to, no matter how he looked or sounded or felt. He had to remain her opponent, or else she’d have no hope of avoiding this marriage.

  “He’s a dangerous character,” Dion added, his voice rough-edged with emotion. “Not someone who has your best interests at heart.”

  There was a history there. A hurt. Had he invited Theo to save face in some way? It wouldn’t surprise her. In the short amount of time she’d known Dion, one thing was clear: he had a Mr. Perfect image, and he wanted to keep it.

  Which meant she needed to persist with her plans to be Little Miss Imperfect.

  Chapter Five

  Two days after the party, Dion decided to skip out of work early to visit his mentor. Being the boss meant he could leave whenever the hell he felt like it—though he was more often likely to leave at midnight than he was at 2 p.m. Running a company was hard work. Running a successful investing firm that was ranked in the top ten in all of Europe required sacrifice that most people couldn’t even fathom.

  Today, however, Dion had too much on his mind to concentrate. After he’d almost flubbed a deal with a wealthy expat from Germany because he hadn’t read his preparation pack properly, he knew it was time to tackle the issues turning his brain to jelly. That meant first speaking with Elias. And then, secondly, going home to Sophia.

  Dion walked through the foyer of Elias Anastas’s home. The grand structure was like a museum with its high ceilings, gallery walls filled with paintings, and wide-open spaces. The sound of his dress shoes echoed through the building as he followed Elias’s assistant, Dimi, to the back of the house. Even with a terminal prognosis and recent pneumonia, Elias was still working.

  “At least I know he’ll give himself some time to enjoy the afternoon if you’re here,” Dimi muttered as she es
corted Dion to the large room where Elias liked to work by the windows that overlooked the Ionian Sea. “Maybe you could have a word with him. He really needs to let himself rest more.”

  “You think he’ll listen to me?” Dion asked with a roll of his eyes. “You grossly overestimate my influence.”

  “And I think you underestimate it.” Dimi pressed a palm to his shoulder and smiled. “He values your relationship very much.”

  Dion didn’t respond. Too many years of masking the emotions that made him vulnerable had left him with a permanent deficiency in that area. He wasn’t good at showing what he felt. And knowing that Elias didn’t have much time left had Dion relying more than ever on his ability to quash his feelings. But the beasts that were grief and anger and sorrow were growing stronger with each passing day. He’d explode at one point. Nobody could put those things into a box forever.

  But he would make sure it happened in a safe space. Alone.

  “Dion.” Elias looked up and smiled. He was in his wheelchair, one foot propped up in front of him on doctor’s orders after twisting his ankle in the fall last week. How he hadn’t broken something was a damned miracle. “They only make you work half days now? It’s barely lunchtime. Why are you skipping out on work to see me?”

  The sound of his voice—weaker than it used to be—made Dion’s heart squeeze. Once upon a time, Elias had filled his room with that big, booming voice. Cigarettes had taken that away from him.

  “I had a meeting close by,” he lied with an easy smile. For some reason, he couldn’t admit that he’d driven over here in a mild state of panic over what he might find. Increasingly, he’d found himself asking whether the end would come today. “Thought I’d drop in on the way back.”

  “Dimi.” Elias motioned for his assistant to come into the room. “Coffee. And bring some of those sticky honey things.”

  Dimi opened her mouth to argue. The doctor had told Elias to keep an eye on his blood sugar levels. But then she thought better of it and disappeared into the house.

  “You can’t use me as a way to get around your diet,” Dion said.

  Elias grinned. “She never argues when you’re here.”

  “How’s the ankle?”

  He grunted. “Still swollen. Damn thing doesn’t want to get better.”

  “And the breathing?”

  “A bitch, as usual.”

  “And the—”

  Elias silenced him with a hand. “If I wanted to be interrogated, I would have called my doctor. When you come, I expect you to make me feel young again, not to remind me that I’m withering away.”

  Fuck. How could time be so cruel to such a great man? It was too easy to remember Elias when he’d been younger. Not five years ago, he’d bounded up hills like a mountain goat. Now he couldn’t even get himself out of his chair.

  “How’s business?” Dion asked.

  “That’s a better question.” Elias nodded. “Good. Marcus is doing a fine job, although I still maintain that you would have made a better CEO.”

  “You know I wasn’t ready to give up my company.”

  Dimi came back into the room with two small cups of strong coffee and a tiny plate of loukoumades. Dion passed one coffee to Elias and then grabbed the other for himself.

  “I know. But you can’t blame an old man for trying.” Elias bit into one of the sweet honeyed dumplings and sighed. “I know they’re bad, but they taste so good.”

  “That’s what you used to say about the cigarettes,” Dimi muttered as she fussed around her boss. They’d worked together for close to forty years, and she was more a family friend than an employee.

  Elias rolled his eyes and motioned for Dion to hand him another. “Did you hear someone bought the land where the Afionas orphanage is?”

  Dion’s head snapped up. “Really?”

  “Someone made them an offer. More money than it’s worth, I heard. Three or four times as much, at least.” He reached for his coffee and took a sip. “They’re building a new facility.”

  “And what happens to the kids in the meantime? It could take years to build a new facility. Are they expecting them to live on the street until then?” He placed his coffee cup down a little harder than he intended, and some of the dark liquid sloshed up against the inside of the cup, leaving a drop to dribble over the edge. Cursing himself, he grabbed a tissue and wiped it up. “Is the new buyer providing interim accommodation?”

  “They’re relocating them for the time being,” Elias said softly. “The kids won’t be put out on the street.”

  “How much?” Dion asked, glossing over his slight outburst by moving the conversation along.

  “I don’t know exactly. Four million…maybe five.”

  “And the church grounds aren’t protected? What would a company want with a place like that?”

  “Property developers, apparently. They’ll restore the church and other registered buildings on the grounds and then build their accommodation around it.”

  “Sounds like it will be good for the kids in the end.” He nodded. “Better than when I was there.”

  At the time, it had been a crumbling and lonely place, but still better than the alternative. Dion had only spent a few nights on the streets of Corfu. Which had been more than enough to instill in him a desire to never, ever be without a roof over his head and a meal in his belly. He’d worked damn hard to have security, and it would have to be pried out of his cold, dead hands.

  He wanted to tell Elias about his plans to buy his father’s business and burn it to ash, and the truth tap-danced on the tip of his tongue. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud—maybe it was because he knew what Elias would say.

  The past is for fools and the dead.

  If only Dion had been born to a man like Elias rather than his own father. Would Dion be so concerned with the past now? Not likely.

  Elias moved the conversation on and, after not too long, his energy waned. Dion bid the older man goodbye with a firm hand on his shoulder—since a hug wasn’t something they’d ever shared—and headed home. He tried not to worry about Elias’s declining health, just like he did every time he visited. And like every time he visited, he failed to take his mind off it.

  Dion was still pondering it when he pulled his car into its spot in the garage and walked into the house. It was the thought he was still pondering when he stalked into his bedroom and stripped off his suit and shirt, ready to head into the bathroom and wash the day—and worries—from his body. But all that came to a screeching halt when he walked through the bathroom door and smack-bang into a fox.

  “What the fuck?”

  …

  Sophia clamped her hand over her mouth as Dion’s surprised cry echoed through the quiet house. Baroness Sasha Foxington III was a fine specimen. She’d arrived earlier that day, thanks to express shipping that had cost a small fortune, wrapped carefully so that nothing had been damaged in transit.

  The second she’d heard Dion’s bedroom door close, Sophia had put aside her virtual-assistant work and crept out into the hallway, eagerly awaiting his response.

  Since the party, he’d worked late and hadn’t been around the house much. It had been good to have long stretches during the day to work on her business, since it was the only thing stopping her from spending each passing hour stressing about her future. Unfortunately, more time to work meant less time to convince Dion they were totally and utterly wrong for each other. The sooner she grossed him out enough that he pulled the pin on the whole thing, the better.

  Mission Reverse Ugly Duckling was now in full effect.

  Sophia had dressed in another one of her “high-fashion man-repeller” outfits, this time consisting of a highlighter-yellow dress. She had a pair of clogs on her feet, and while they weren’t super ugly, they were the worst things she’d been able to find that she could actually walk around in.

  She headed outside into the backyard, trying not to admire the view of the low sun bobbing at the h
orizon, where the water created a straight blue line of perfection. Dammit. Why did this place have to look like a freaking postcard?

  “I assume this is yours?” Dion asked as he walked out of the house with the fox tucked under one arm.

  Sophia had to hold back a snort. If he looked ridiculous holding the fox, then she was going to look ten times worse.

  Perfect. Score one for the girls.

  “Oh, you met Sasha.” She manufactured a big smile. “Isn’t she a specimen? I knew you would want to see her the second you got home. I had her shipped over because I feel quite bereft without my collection. The rest will come soon, but Sasha is my favorite.”

  Dion looked on with a bland expression. Sophia figured the less his expression showed, the more concerned he actually was…which was a good sign.

  “Did you have a good day at work?” she asked sweetly as she set the fox down on the ground next to her.

  “Yeah.” He nodded.

  Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Sophia resisted her natural urge to fill it with chatter. Ever since she was a young girl, she couldn’t stand the sound of a long pause in conversation. Usually it represented something bad—like her father slowly blowing up inside because something hadn’t gone his way. The silence was often followed by an explosion. Yelling or swearing. Sometimes a broken plate or glass. One time he’d yelled so loud he’d startled a little girl on the street outside their house.

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Oh, good. I went for a walk on the beach during my lunch break. It’s such a pretty place.” It had been glorious to take the chance to wear something normal and get her feet wet in the ocean. Corfu was stunning, and it was a little too easy to imagine herself waking up to that view every morning.

  In fact, it had that quiet, natural beauty that she loved so much. Whether it was a densely wooded forest or a pristine beach, Sophia loved being out in nature.