Marriage Of Convenience. Helen Bianchin

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      ‘A civil ceremony held in a private home with two witnesses.’

      ‘Ah. I see.’ There was a faint click of the fingers as she accurately appraised Alesha’s slim curves. ‘I think I can offer you something suitable.’

      The design was fine, the colour was not.

      ‘It’s a very pale blush.’

      ‘Thank you, but no.’

      The second boutique had the perfect gown, Chanel…except it only came in black. Alesha considered, only to be firmly outvoted by Lacey. ‘You are not getting married in black.’

      ‘Hey, whose wedding is this, anyway?’

      ‘Yours, and just because it’s not traditional, doesn’t mean we won’t do it right. Agreed?’

      Lacey had a point. ‘Coffee,’ Alesha insisted.

      ‘Soon, promise. Let’s go.’

      ‘Heaven forbid…where? I thought we had a one-stop deal.’

      Lacey took hold of her arm and led the way to the car.

      ‘Get in and drive.’

      ‘It had better be good.’

      Doing it right was achieved in a beautiful little boutique that sold vintage designer gear. Gorgeous gowns in cream, ivory…and Alesha sighed as she caught sight of sheer perfection. A slim-fitting gown in layered ivory and pale champagne silk, accented by a fine pin-tucking edged with narrow lace.

      ‘Delicate strappy sandals with killer heels,’ Lacey advised. ‘Minimum jewellery, just diamond ear-studs. Maybe a bracelet.’

      Alesha removed the gown, handed it to the sales person, endeavoured not to blink at the price, presented plastic and minutes later walked from the shop with a signature-emblazoned glossy carry-bag.

      ‘Strappy sandals,’ Lacey insisted. ‘Then we get to have coffee. OK?’

      ‘Thanks.’ She gave her friend an impulsive heartfelt hug. ‘I couldn’t have done this without you.’

      A light bubbling laugh emerged as Lacey initiated a high-five gesture. ‘Who else, when we’ve been friends since for ever?’

      ‘Sisters in every way but by blood.’ There for each other, the first one to call.

      It was later as they sat sharing coffee that Lacey adopted a serious expression. ‘You so deserve to be happy.’

      Alesha smiled. ‘Wisdom over double-shot lattes?’

      ‘Loukas is a good guy.’

      She slanted an eyebrow. ‘And you know this…because?’

      ‘I’ve met him, remember? He made a lasting impression.’

      Alesha took time to sip her coffee. ‘That’s supposed to be reassurance?’

      ‘He’s hot. Those eyes. That mouth.’ Lacey gave a lascivious sigh. ‘Yum…and then some.’

      ‘Yum?’ she queried with quizzical amusement.

      ‘Uh-huh.’

      A wicked smile widened her lips. ‘I think you need food. Plus, I owe you, big time. Let’s do dinner…my treat.’

      Lacey laughed with delight. ‘Where?’

      ‘Your choice.’

      ‘Reckless. Definitely reckless.’ Lacey allowed a few seconds’ deliberation. ‘Italian. There’s this little restaurant that serves divine pasta to die for. It’s the other side of town.’

      Alesha rose to her feet and paid the tab. ‘Let’s go.’

      It became a wonderfully relaxing few hours as they enjoyed fine food, a glass of wine, reminisced and laughed.

      True friendship was something to be treasured, and Alesha entered her apartment at evening’s end with a lighter heart.

      The familiar nightmare came out of nowhere in the early pre-dawn hours, vivid, almost live in its intensity, and she woke breathing hard, her body soaked with sweat.

      She reached for the bedside lamp and the room glowed with light.

      Dear God.

      She lifted a hand to her face, almost expecting in that instant to feel the heat, the swelling, the pain. Except her cheeks were cool, and for several long moments she worked at slowing her breathing, her rapidly beating pulse.

      A silent voice prompted…You’re fine.

      In the here and now…and alone.

      With one smooth movement she cast aside the covers and padded out to the kitchen, brewed tea, then she subsided into a comfortable chair and channel-surfed until she found a comedy and didn’t move until the dawn gradually lightened the sky from indigo to pearl grey.

      Then she hit the shower and dressed. Breakfast was yoghurt and fruit with a reviving shot of caffeine, before she fixed her make-up, gathered her laptop, bag, keys, and drove into the city.

      Focus, concentrate on the day, Alesha urged as she rode the lift to the high floor housing Karsouli.

      As days went, this one soon became a doozy, with her PA calling in sick, the replacement hesitant to take any initiative, minor delays resulting therefrom, and a laptop that decided to crash at a crucial moment. Fortunately the auto-save function ensured only a small amount of data was lost, but it took time to get the system up and running again…time that became increasingly scarce as the day progressed.

      Consequently she skipped lunch, alternated coffee with bottled water, and made do with a banana mid-afternoon.

      Running on empty was not advisable, and coupled with loss of sleep it tipped her into headache territory with increasing intensity.

      At five she was tempted to give up, except another hour—two, tops—and she’d put the day’s work to bed. Given international time-zones, the data would be accessible, and any delay minimal.

      She was almost done when her cellphone buzzed, and she automatically picked up…something she rarely did without first checking caller ID.

      ‘Alesha.’

      There was no mistaking that deep, faintly accented voice. ‘Hi.’ As a greeting, it was sadly lacking.

      ‘I’m on my way up.’

      So he was back…and here. He’d said he’d call, but she hadn’t counted on seeing him. Nor did she expect the slow curling sensation to begin deep within.

      She wasn’t alone in the building…There would be others staying back СКАЧАТЬ