by Sophia Lynn
His grin was wide and sharp.
“No, not really. A bit like waving a red flag in front of a bull. You shouldn’t call me Ni unless you want to suffer the consequences.”
With a deliberation that was impressive, he swept his eyes swiftly down her body, making her shiver. If it were someone else, if it were nearly anyone else, she would have been offended. Because it was this specific man, she felt flattered and something else that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, swallowing a little. “You said you’re an emissary. What does that mean, exactly?”
“It mostly has to do with cultural exchanges. Some administration, some liaison work, bit of shooting the breeze. After you do it for a while, it turns out to be pretty boring. And what is it you do, Marianna?”
There was a kind of intensity he gave to her name that made herquiver . She ignored it, because she did need to keep her wits about her for the moment.
“I’m a writer,” she said. “A journalist, actually. I mostly do lifestyle pieces, but I’ve worked a few different beats since I’ve come up. The most interesting one was the crime beat, but that is really not something I would do again.”
He looked impressed.
“That must have taken you through some awful places and some awful times. It was very brave of you, and your commitment to the truth is impressive.”
She laughed a little self-consciously.
“I don’t know about brave. I mean, I’m not working there right now, am I? The truth was that I wanted a paycheck.”
“And now?”
“Well, I still want a paycheck, but I have the skills to get into what I really want to get into.”
“And what would that be?”
She almost told him about her new interest in biography and ghostwriting. It had been on her mind enough lately that she nearly let it spill right then and there, but she knew that wouldn’t be appropriate. She was simply standing too close to Opal to risk her friend overhearing, and besides, she didn’t know this person. He could run and tell anyone and everyone her secret. Yet she found herself continuing to speak.
“The truth, of one kind or another. The real truth. Not the ‘who, what, where, when, why, and how’ of journalism. I want to touch something a little deeper. I want to immortalize something that is more important, that perhaps some people don’t know about.”
“That sounds quite beautiful,” Nikolos said thoughtfully. “Are you sure you’re not an artist?”
“Oh god no,” she said with a light laugh. “The truth is that I tried the fiction gig, and I don’t care for it. I can do it, but my prose just feels…flat, you know? I want…I want to work with the truth, to make it better than fiction, to show the world.”
Something about her last words seemed to move him, and he took her hand in his warm one.
“I can tell that you are a very passionate woman,” he said, his voice dropping a little. She felt that warm shiver go through her, but she grinned up at him gamely.
“And I can tell that you are very good with women,” she said in that same husky voice. “Tell me, does that get you a lot of attention?”
The moment those words left her mouth, she was afraid that she had gone too far, but then he grinned. It was a more real expression than she had seen yet, and it changed his face from merely handsome to entrancing.
“You caught me out,” he said, in a much more natural tone of voice. “May I simply say that I’m impressed and call it good?”
“I would call it very good,” she said. This time, she let a little bit of the attraction she was feeling drip into her voice, and she mimicked his look, taking in his body in its well-fitted tuxedo. “What do you want me to call you?”
He started to answer her, but then his phone rang. His look of dismay was so intent she burst out laughing, unable to maintain the femme fatale exterior.
“Go answer it,” she said. “I know what being on call is like.”
With a faintly thunderous expression, he strode a bit away to take the call.
Marianna was content to wait for him, but then she saw a terribly familiar face in the crowd. With an inward curse, she ducked behind a pillar.
Morris Fitzsimmons was a muckraker from the paper where she had worked. He was notorious for a certain kind of malice that made him a good gossip monger and a terrible person. If he was at this gala, he was likely looking to dig up some kind of dirt, and Marianna knew he would never believe that she was Opal Featherstone’s grandniece. He would start digging, and he would start finding things, and then Opal might get her heart broken. Marianna couldn’t live with that.
With stealth skills that would have been the envy of any spy, she skated through the crowd, avoiding Morris’s darting eye. With her lovely hairdo and dress, he might not have recognized her at all, but when it came to something this important, she decided it was far better to be safe than sorry.
As she made her way to the entrance, she spared a thought for the handsome emissary she had been having such a good time with.
Well, the clock struck midnight, and now Cinderella has to get home before she turns into a pumpkin, Marianna thought. It was really just a little dream, anyway.
She knew that, while the gala might be Opal’s real life, it wasn’t hers. That was fine. Tomorrow she would return the clothes to Mei, and she would start looking for another job.
An hour later, while she relaxed in front of the television, a notification popped up on her phone.
With a frown, she realized it was from Henry, Opal’s assistant.
Are you interested in further ghostwriting work? An associate of mine has made clear a need that he has been trying to fill.
Marianne’s eyes opened wide. Maybe she would have work sooner than she’d thought.
Very interested, thank you for thinking of me, Henry! What are the details?
The response came back very quickly.
What do you think of spending the next month in Greece?
* * *
The call was from Philip, who simply wanted to make sure that he was at the gala. He had gotten off the phone in just a few minutes, but when he looked back, he was dismayed to see that his flame-haired Marianna had disappeared.
Nikolos was too wise to think he should never get dumped, but something about this stung. Perhaps it was that they were simply getting on so well. Perhaps it was simply because she was one of the most enchanting women he had seen in his life.
He walked around the gala, looking to see if she was still there, but she seemed to have disappeared into thin air. He shook his head in disappointment, making his way to the gates.
If she wasn’t around, there truly wasn’t much that was going to keep him there.
Nikolos supposed it was for the best, anyway. After all, he was flying back to Greece in just a few short days, and somehow a short affair wasn’t what he necessarily wanted with someone like her.
His heart tugged at him, but he ignored it, walking into the warm Los Angeles night. Suddenly he was homesick. He had been traveling for a few months, and it would be so good to be back in his native country.
Yes, he thought. It’ll be good to be home.
Chapter Two
For almost two days, Marianna had been on her best behavior. Her phone interview with the Greek Queen’s assistant had gone swimmingly. Marianna had shown off her credentials as a journalist, and though she didn’t mention her experience with ghostwriting, she knew Henry had filled him in.
Finally, they met up for a lunch at a place that was certainly far too expensive for her to afford, and he gave her the details.
“Miss Clark, I don’t mind telling you that this task is a preview for greater things. If you do the job well, it might lead to an engagement that we predict could last a year or more. If you look at the figure I have just texted you, you will see that we can make it worth your while.”
Marianna’s eyes opened wide at the figure. It was so much she didn’t even
try to hide the fact she was impressed.
“So this is an audition for a bigger job, Mr. Lagana?”
“Indeed. This is a job that requires your utmost professionalism and discretion. We wish you to spend a month with the second son of the Greek royal family. He is a bit unruly, perhaps a bit wild, and we would like him shown in the best light. After that, we shall see.”
Marianna was already having visions of a spoiled nineteen-year-old who spent all his time cruising the Mediterranean. If that boy was all that stood between her and what might be the job of a lifetime, she was ready go.
“I’m sure that I will do quite well,” she said.
Mr. Lagana was flying back to Greece that week, so she packed away her things in a blind hurry, put together a bag, and took advantage of his offer to take her straight to the job. Mei had squealed with delight, and Opal gave her a very wise smile.
“Look at you go, my little darling, and where you stop, no one will know,” Opal had said.
* * *
Marianna had purchased a few sleek, basic black dresses that were both fashionable and work-appropriate, and now dressed in one of them, she was ready to meet her new challenge.
Mr. Lagana had given her a few hours to collect herself at the hotel room he had arranged—a modern wonder that was easily three times the size of her apartment—and then he invited her to dinner with the young prince.
She adjusted her glasses on her nose, nodding at her reflection in the mirror.
“You got this,” she said confidently, and walked down to the waiting car.
From the accounts Mr. Lagana had given her, she expected an ultramodern restaurant or bar. Instead, he took her to an obscure little trattoria in a surprisingly humble neighborhood. At her slightly confused look, he smiled.
“Believe me when I say that this has the absolute best carbonara in the city. The royal family wants the best, and at least the prince has no problem seeking it out wherever it lurks.”
She followed him through the restaurant to a small private room in the back. There as a dark-haired man sitting at the table. Marianna felt a strange tingle run up her back. She was ready to dismiss it as nerves, but then the man looked up with those ink-black eyes, and she felt as if the bottom had dropped out of the room.
Oh god, it’s him…
She blanked out for a few moments. When she came to herself, Mr. Lagana was making introductions.
“This is Prince Nikolos Maheris, son of King Constantinus. Your highness, this is Miss Marianna Clark.”
For a long moment, Nikolos merely looked at her. He looked at her for long enough that she wondered if he recognized her at all. While that would have been an impressively crushing blow to her pride, it would definitely have made things just a little easier.
Then he smiled, and it was that slow smile that made her feel as if the room was a few degrees too hot.
“Marianna…may I call you Mari?”
“No,” she said after a moment. “That’s not…tremendously attractive to my ear. After all, I don’t know what you would think if I called you Ni.”
She spoke without thinking about it, and she glanced at Mr. Lagana, who appeared to be viewing the exchange with some approval.
“Good. Perhaps she is someone who will not put up with your nonsense, your highness,” he said, and Nikolos laughed.
“You are never one to mince words, Philip. I took the liberty of having a takeout box prepared for you. I just received word from my mother that there’s a situation at the palace which might require your deft touch.”
Mr. Lagana frowned briefly.
“It’s likely the Turkish ambassador again. The event next week has riled him significantly, and he insists on making it our problem. Thank you for the box. I will appreciate it, especially if this continues on as long as I fear it might.” Mr. Lagana turned to her. “Miss Clark, please excuse my departure. I will likely be catching up with you for progress reports at some point in the next few days.”
Mr. Lagana hurried out, closing the door firmly behind him. Now she was alone with Nikolos, and she couldn’t seem to stop staring at his wide, wolf-like smile.
“Well, Marianna, are you planning to sit down?”
There was a chair next to him, but that felt too close, as if it were a date rather than a business meeting. She took a seat across the table from him.
“Some Greek emissary you turned out to be,” Marianna said. He didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed.
“At some point, it becomes a good idea to be a little discreet about certain things. There are questions and attitudes you don’t always want to encounter, after all. I might ask you the same question. Are you truly Opal Featherstone’s grandniece? Where did you disappear to that night?”
“I’m not her grandniece, no. I’m a business associate for a rather discreet endeavor, so I’ll thank you to remember that as I need to handle your affairs discreetly as well.”
She hoped the warning would be enough, and Nikolos nodded thoughtfully.
“I see. Discretion is to be prized, and so we will speak no more about it. Now, tell me where you went. Were you actually trying to dodge me?”
The idea he would think that startled her. She had regretted leaving him behind, but she hadn’t thought it would give him more than a moment of bother. She hadn’t anticipated he might be dismayed, and she certainly hadn’t foreseen the slight hurt she thought she could detect in his expression.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I definitely wasn’t trying to dodge you. I only saw a man I knew, a very unpleasant man. If he had seen me there, he would definitely have known that I was not Opal Featherstone’s grandniece, and everything might have been spoiled. I couldn’t bear to have that happen.”
“You’re very kind, Marianna,” Nikolos said with a smile. “I suppose I must forgive you this time.”
“Good,” she said with a laugh. “Otherwise you might not like what I write about you.”
“I probably wouldn’t,” he said ruefully. “I think my parents are hoping that my innate sense of shame will kick in if there is someone here to watch me like a babysitter. If I did something embarrassing, they would probably insist that you leave it in your article.”
“Do you have a great deal to be ashamed of?”
Nikolos shrugged.
“I like to have a good time. My brother, Alexandros, is going to be the king, and he’s the one who needs to be dignified. He recently got married, so he’s earning extra points, as they say. Now that he’s taken care of, I suspect that my mother wants me to follow in his footsteps.”
“I see. And is that what you want?”
“I am restless,” he said. “I always want to be out doing, out seeing, out experiencing things. I know how lucky I am to have the opportunity to do so, and I don’t intend to let it get away from me, no matter what my parents think.”
For a moment, Marianna wondered what it would be like to live that close to your own desires, to be able to get what you wanted with just a little bit of will. Then she put it aside, because it didn’t serve the moment.
“So if you truly had your way, you would only be doing more of the same?”
He laughed a little in surprise, and then he gave her a more careful, considering look.
“You’re interviewing me,” he observed, and there was something just a little dangerous in his voice.
“I am?” she asked, slightly guilty. She had been.
“Yes, you are. And you might not be recording the conversation, but there’s a good chance that tonight’s going to end up in the thing you write, isn’t there?”
“You’re…not wrong,” she conceded. She wondered if he was angry at her. She’d had some people become angry when they realized they’d revealed a lot more than they’d intended.
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Playing a bit dirty there, little one,” he said, “but I’ll forgive you if you are willing to actually order some food before we get started again.”
At that moment Marianna’s stomach grumbled, making them both laugh.
“All right,” she said, giving in. “What’s good?”
“Since we’re here? I’m going to recommend the kleftiko. It’s amazing, and just about my whole family orders it from this place.
“That sounds good,” she said happily.
Marianna watched as he conversed with the waiter in Greek, and when he turned back to her, she looked at him expectantly.
“What’s kleftiko?”
Nikolos stared at her for a moment before laughing abruptly.
“You don’t know, and you let me order it anyway?”
“Well, I assumed that you weren’t going to poison me, and I figure that you’re a man of taste. I don’t have any food restrictions at all, so I thought I’d be adventurous. Now are you going to tell me or shall I wait until they bring the food?”
“Kleftiko is lamb that has been roasted so slowly and thoroughly that the meat is falling off of the bone. Typically, lemon juice and garlic are used in the marinade. It’s good, but I always used to like it for the story that went with it.”
“What story is that?”
“Something my grandmother told me when this dish was served at the palace. It supposedly originates from bandits stealing lambs and goats and cooking them in covered pits so that the smoke wouldn’t give them away…”
Nikolos trailed off, and then she realized that he was looking at her suspiciously.
“You did it again,” he said accusingly.
“I didn’t! Wait, what was I meant to have done?”
“I say that we are going to wait until the food at least arrives before we start with the interview again. Yet suddenly I look up and find I’m telling you something about myself yet again. What kind of little witch are you?”
“All I said was ‘oh,’” Marianna said, amused. “Maybe it’s only that you have always liked to talk, and you are just now realizing it.”
