by Holly Rayner
SIX
To Zoey’s relief, the next day was Friday. Friday night normally meant the weekend, and a temporary reprieve from Melinda Forde, but today it meant something completely different. At six o’clock that evening, a billionaire was coming to take her out.
Her mother had been so excited, she’d given her the day off “to get prepared”. It was obvious she wanted her daughter to use every trick in the book to turn their date into a relationship. For her part, Zoey wasn’t sure how she felt about the billionaire Greek. After all, she had only met the man twice, and in both of those cases, her mother had been there.
When six o’clock came, Zoey was no closer to knowing what she felt for Stelios, but she was finally ready for their date. Her makeup was subtle, but finished with a bold red lip, and her dark hair had been crinkled to perfection. She wore a luxurious white cashmere sweater that she had gotten in the sale of the century, and completed her look with black slacks and flats, which straddled the line between formal and casual. A new smartphone rested inside her clutch and bore the same number as the old one.
Despite herself, Zoey felt her heart quake with excitement. And that was before the peals of the ringing doorbell filled the room.
Striding over quickly, she opened the door to a beanpole of a driver in a stylish gray uniform. He looked fairly young and had an elongated face. A thin little mustache sat atop his upper lip.
“Good evening, Ms. Forde. The car is waiting downstairs. I’ve come up to escort you, if you’re ready.”
“I am. Thank you,” she replied, thinking it was thoughtful of Stelios to have someone escort her downstairs.
Outside her building, Zoey saw the familiar town car. With the ease of habit, the driver glided past and held the back door open for her.
“Where’s your boss?” she asked the driver when she didn’t see Stelios inside.
“He would like that to be a surprise, miss. Step inside and I’ll drive you to him.”
Feeling excited and a little cautious, Zoey followed the instructions and her driver took off, expertly weaving through New York traffic.
When it felt to Zoey that a good half hour had passed, she asked the driver, who wasn’t overly communicative, how much farther away their destination was. At that moment, they pulled in front of Xenia, possibly the most exclusive Greek restaurant on the East Coast. People came from all over the country to sample the cuisine, especially wealthy immigrants from Greece longing for a taste of home.
Zoey was by no means surprised that Stelios has chosen a Greek restaurant for their encounter, and she was thankful she could consider herself something of a fan.
The driver came around and let her out, allowing her to see the magnificent structure properly. The building was made of black marble and took up a huge part of the block. There was an exquisite outdoor café area, cordoned off by artful, wrought-iron gates. Zoey guessed that the restaurant was at least three stories high, and she could glimpse a lavish balcony area on the top floor. To the right of the building was a triangular field filled with tiny holes and surrounded by small, colored spotlights. Every few moments, water would jet out of the holes in different patterns, and the lights would make the streams change color. The doors were made of heavy oak, and the top half of each one bore a circular painting of pastoral Greece. It was breathtaking.
Again, the driver passed her, and with more of an effort than Zoey would have thought necessary, pulled open Xenia’s door.
Zoey stepped inside and beheld the vestibule with awe. It was larger than she had expected, and lit with a massive chandelier. On the wall to her right, in engraved, golden letters, were quotes from several of Ancient Greece’s most famous philosophers and statesmen. On the wall to her left was a skillful rendering of Mount Olympus and the Twelve Olympians.
Beyond the vestibule was the restaurant itself, a huge area that was nonetheless lit to feel intimate and private. A dozen or so rectangular tables bore starched, white cloths, and fine china. Along the far wall an intricately-decorated staircase led to the upper floors.
Zoey was still taking everything in when a sudden, magnificent crash rocked the restaurant, and the smell of smoke began to fill her nostrils.
“What in the world is going on?” Zoey said, to no one in particular—as far as she could see, the restaurant was empty. Had someone broken in? Was something on fire?
She thought about running outside while she still had the chance. She had just turned in the direction of the door when a small, clear, “ahem” stopped her in her tracks.
Zoey turned and beheld a skinny boy, about sixteen years old. He wore black slacks and vest, and had an eager face, wavy hair, and a pencil-thin mustache.
“Good evening, miss,” he said politely. “My name is Ravi. I’m one of the busboys here. Are you looking for Mr. Zakiridis?”
“Er…yes,” Zoey replied skeptically. “Yes I was. I was supposed to meet him here. Is he in the restaurant?”
“Yes, miss. Follow me.”
Zoey was a little unsure, but didn’t seem to have too many better options, so tailed the boy down a long hallway at the very rear of the restaurant. The farther they walked, the hotter it got and the more loudly Zoey heard the banging of pots and pans.
At last, they arrived at a pair of padded swing doors.
“Just through there, miss. I was just finishing up when you arrived, so I’m going to get going now. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Zoey thanked Ravi as well as she could over the clattering of the pans.
As the boy went back toward the front, she turned and plunged through the doors, and there, battling back a cloud of smoke, was billionaire real estate mogul Stelios Zakiridis.
He wore a pair of black slacks, a white, collared shirt, and an apron covered in splatters of grease. His sleeves were rolled up to just over the elbow, revealing two rather muscular forearms. A sheen of sweat lay on his forehead as he fussed over a baking pan full of dough and meat. Even from where she was standing, Zoey could tell it was badly burned.
What on earth does he think he’s doing? she wondered. Why is he working in the kitchen?
“It’s supposed to be kreatopita, a savory pie that marries wine and herbs, ground beef and buttery phyllo dough. What I seem to have done, however, is to marry heat and grease to create a large charcoal briquette.”
“Not to be rude or anything,” said Zoey, trying not to betray her confusion, “but what are you doing back here? I thought we had a date.”
“Indeed we do, Zoey, and this was supposed to be it: a homemade dinner in the best Greek restaurant outside of Greece. You see, I actually own the place. It’s one of my most cherished investments, so I thought this would be the perfect place for a date. I sent my driver to bring you here and paid the staff to go home for the evening. Everyone but Ravi, that is, who was helping me set up the dining area. He should be gone by now too. I was hoping to have this done by the time you got here so I could impress you with my amazing cooking skills. As you can see, though, I may have bitten off more than I can chew.”
“In that case, you’d better let me help,” said Zoey, pulling off her cashmere sweater to reveal a black polo underneath. Placing the sweater on a clean, unused table, she donned a spare white apron and walked to the Greek’s side. “Now let’s try it together,” she said. “What’s the first thing we need to do?”
Stelios put the baking pan he was holding down and grinned. “The first thing we need to do is dice two onions.”
Zoey tried desperately not to show it, but after everything that had happened to her recently, Stelios’ romantic surprise was having a profound effect upon her. A billionaire—a man who could literally have whatever he wanted—had nearly burned down the kitchen of his own five-star restaurant trying to impress her. She felt weightless and impossibly heavy all at once, but she had to focus; Stelios had just slipped a sharp knife in her hand.
His hand gently cupped her left one, pushing the fingers into a loose fist on top of an
onion he had just cut in half. His right hand gripped the knife handle, just behind Zoey’s right wrist, and guided it to a point on the onion a hair’s breadth away from her fingers.
“Use your left hand to feed the onion into the blade,” Stelios said, slowly guiding her, “while the right one rocks the blade through it.”
“And I’m not going to cut my fingers?” Zoey asked worriedly as the sharp blade fell incredibly close to them.
“No,” Stelios smiled. “Your knuckles are going to keep that from happening. Plus, the more you do it, the easier it gets.”
When the onions were sufficiently diced, Stelios chopped up some dill while Zoey crumbled a block of feta. The Greek was working much more slowly than before, and Zoey noted there was far less banging than she had heard on the way in.
“Who taught you how to cook, anyway?” Zoey asked, watching Stelios measure cups of wine and chicken broth. “Did someone show you how or are you just trying to look like you know what you’re doing?” she said with a playful smile.
“A little bit of both,” Stelios laughed. “My mother loved showing me how to cook her food. I remember her saying, ‘You may be in America now, but you should always have something from your country’. She used to make the most wonderful tirokroketes. You’d happily fight people to get to them.”
“And tirokroketes are…?” Zoey asked, as she fetched butter and ground beef from the fridge.
“Basically, they’re fried cheese balls.”
“That sounds delicious. My mother and I never really did any cooking together, except once, when I needed to make brownies for a school fundraiser. We got all the ingredients together and my mom dug up a cookbook she’d bought when I was about four. For some reason, she’d never used it. We put everything in the bowl, but we didn’t have a mixer, so I volunteered. The stuff was so thick I thought my arms would fall off, but I wanted to do it myself. My mom kept cheering me on as I stirred, and in the end, it came together.”
“I hope your brownies turned out better than my first attempt,” he said, shaking his head and tossing onions into the pan.
Zoey didn’t have the heart to tell him that they had. Instead, she asked him about the restaurant.
“I bought the place about four years ago. I was feeling kind of homesick, and I wanted something that would remind me of Greece and my family. I had to work really hard to get it to where it is now—the previous owner was a terrible manager, and did a lot of skimping to save money. The guy wasn’t big on upkeep, and it’s taken me a long this time to deal with the damage from that. I used to think I’d never get everything fixed. But now,” he said as Zoey introduced the ground beef to the pan, “nearly everything’s been handled, and the restaurant has been a success.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Zoey over the hissing of the oil. “I couldn’t help noticing how beautiful everything looked on the way in here.”
“Thanks. I was very enthusiastic about the design. I’m glad the décor impressed you, even if I couldn’t.”
“Oh, you’re a very impressive person, Stelios,” Zoey said. “You just needed to slow things down a bit.”
“I think you’re right,” the Greek replied, as he started on a reduction. Thanks to you, we’ll soon have a meal we can stomach.”
“Thanks to us, you mean, “Zoey insisted with a smile. “I was having trouble cutting an onion five minutes ago, remember?”
Over the next forty-five minutes, the two worked together, cutting the phyllo to fit a baking pan. Following Stelios’ instructions, Zoey buttered eight sheets of the stuff and layered it in the pan. Stelios topped that with the meat, and Zoey added eight more sheets. They popped their creation into the oven, sure this time that the effort would succeed. When it did, they congratulated each other as a rich, warm scent wafted through the air.
It had barely been an hour, but Zoey was beginning to feel at home. She was surprised to find a soft little smile wouldn’t leave her face. Stelios was just starting to tell her about the first time he made kreatopita when every light in the kitchen flickered violently.
“Shit,” Stelios exclaimed, just a loud whirring noise filled the air.
It was the familiar sound that Zoey knew indicated a power drain. The room was suddenly plunged into darkness. Every device in the kitchen went dead, except the gas burners. Stelios turned a few more of them on.
“Well, the joys of living in New York huh?” Zoey said, fishing her phone out of her pocket and turning on the flashlight app.
“It seems so, Zoey. There’s a little supply closet in the corner over there. Could you grab a few candles?”
“Sure. No problem.” Zoey moved to the right-hand corner of the kitchen and fished a handful of candles out of a small cupboard.
Taking several candleholders and a box of matches, she went into the main restaurant and began creating pools of light. In moments, the entire area had a cozy glow, and Zoey placed a candlestick in the center of the table nearest to the kitchen, ready for them to sit down.
A few minutes later, Stelios came out of the kitchen with a tray that bore two decently-plated helpings of kreatopita, a bright, green salad, a chilled bottle of wine, and two glasses. Setting everything on the table, he made a place setting for Zoey and filled her glass. Once he had done the same for himself, he took a seat beside her, and for a moment, he watched the reflected candlelight flicker in her eyes.
“Not quite what you were expecting, huh?” Stelios remarked, handing Zoey a cloth napkin.”
“Not at all,” she admitted, “but when you think about it, it really isn’t that bad. In a way, it’s kind of romantic.”
“Great. Then my master plan has succeeded,” he joked. “I hope you enjoy the food,” he added.
“I’m sure I will,” Zoey replied, cutting herself a piece of the meat pie. She put it in her mouth and her face lit up. Savory spices combined pleasantly with a flaky, buttery crust, and the rich flavor of the ground beef brought the whole thing together. True, she thought the crust was a little harder than it probably should have been, but it was a good effort and a very tasty one.
“This is excellent, Stelios. You did a great job.”
“We did a great job, remember?” he reminded her, sipping some of his wine.
Zoey gave a little laugh and nodded in agreement before taking another bite. “This really is good, though,” she said as Stelios followed her lead. “I think I taste oregano and…I can’t make out the other spice. What else did you put in?”
“Dill. I’ve been told it helps to balance the flavors. This turned out well but it doesn’t hold a candle to my mother’s cooking. No pun intended.”
Zoey giggled, even as she rolled her eyes.
“Whenever my mother made anything, it felt like an event. People were always telling her she should open a restaurant. I believe she wanted to, but she never found the time. That’s part of why this place means so much to me. In a way, it feels like I helped her accomplish one of her dreams.”
Zoey put her fork down for a moment. She was looking at Stelios’ face, and though he was valiantly trying to hide it, she saw that his features had drawn tight, the corners of his lips had turned down, and his eyes looked suddenly heavy with the weight of tears he refused to shed. A profound sadness had covered his face like a fog, and it sprang into Zoey’s heart and took root.
“What happened to your mother,” she asked quietly, though she was almost certain what the answer would be.
“She and my father left the world eight years ago. They were coming back from visiting our family in Greece. The authorities still aren’t entirely sure how it happened, but the plane…” He paused. “It crashed on its way back here.”
“That’s awful,” Zoey replied soberly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Stelios replied with a brave smile, doing his best to lighten the mood a little. “I miss them every day, but I try to remember that they led rich lives. I wanted to go to Greece with them, but
I felt like someone had to stay here and look after the business. It’s older than I am, and I wouldn’t have trusted anyone outside of the family to run it. Ever since they died, I’ve just been working as hard as I can to make it better. It’s really all I have left of them.”
“Well, I’m sure they would be extremely proud of you,” said Zoey. “You’ve been a fantastic success in real estate, and you’re a wonderful person. You’re even a half decent cook,” she added with a bit of a smirk, patting him affectionately on the shoulder.
The Greek felt the muscles in his face relax. “That’s nice of you to say, Zoey. Thank you,” he returned. “Originally, I’d planned to keep up the pace permanently, but then a couple of weeks ago, I turned thirty-two.”
“Happy belated.”
“Thanks. My father was the same age when I was born, and that starting me thinking seriously about a lot of things that hadn’t crossed my mind before. What I realized was that I was all alone, with no one to share everything I’ve been building with. It suddenly occurred to me that it was time to find a good person to settle down with. I saw that the best way to remember my parents was with a family of my own. And that’s why I decided to pay a visit to your mother.”
What a nice thought, Zoey thought to herself, feeling moved and a little intimidated at the same time. The fact that he had put so much effort into their date was a clear indication that he was considering her as someone to share his life with. Zoey thought his intentions were sweet, but she also wondered what Stelios wanted with her. She was a normal woman, with an overbearing mother, and a desk job. What was a handsome, famous billionaire going to do with her?
“I sensed you were a good person when you sent me away from the appointment the other day,” Stelios continued, seemingly reading her thoughts with the skill of a telepath. “Really, I was sure there was something special about you the second I entered your office.”
“It’s true!” he answered Zoey’s surprised look. “Even if you hadn’t called me back that morning, I was planning to ask you out.”
Most people find it feels good to be told that they are special and Zoey was no exception. Especially since the person that was saying so was a very nice guy who looked amazing and happened to be a billionaire.
“Well for the record, I’m glad I agreed to do it.”
“Even if you’re sitting in the dark right now?”
“Yes, even though I’m sitting in the dark right now.”
“I’m very happy to hear that. While we are on the subject of dating, is there any competition I should be aware of?” Stelios queried in light tones.
Zoey chuckled and shook her head. “Nothing’s been going on in that department for some time now. I really haven’t had time to find something meaningful. On top of that, I have way more than enough romance to deal with at work.”
“Well I hope I can change your mind about that,” Stelios replied, gently taking her hand in his.
The contact sent a current up her spine and a warmth flowing within her heart. The pair moved closer together and saw each other for the first time, by the flickering light of the nearby candles.
“You truly are beautiful, Zoey,” Stelios said, almost whispering. With an air almost of awe, he ran his fingers through her raven-tinted hair.
Without a word, she drew him into a deep, passionate kiss that sent every one of her senses on fire. She sensed the need in his lips, smelled his intoxicating aftershave, and felt his heart beating rapidly against her own. Everything ceased to exist beyond the spark of flame between them. Everything else in the world was plunged into darkness.
***
An hour later, sitting in her own room, Zoey still felt like a woman in a dream. She didn’t know how it was possible to feel so incredibly and completely different from the way she had just two days ago. She was elated, excited, and full of hope. She felt desired and loved by someone for a change, and the thought of it danced through her body like electricity. The date had succeeded beyond anything she would have believed, and for the first time in what felt like ages, she was happy.
Pulling off her sweater and slacks, Zoey duly changed into her nightclothes, but she knew sleep wasn’t going to come to her for several hours. Her heart just wouldn’t stop beating faster than usual, and her thoughts had no intention of quieting down. It was lucky, she thought, that she had nowhere to be the next morning.
Eventually, after about three hours of trying, Zoey fell into a blissful sleep. Even though she wouldn’t remember it the next day, she was smiling; her dreams filled with the adventures that awaited her and Stelios in the future.
The Greek Billionaire’s Marriage Matchmaker is on sale now
Holly Rayner’s Facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/hollyraynerbooks
