Marriage Of Convenience. Helen Bianchin

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СКАЧАТЬ magnificent wide staircase curved to a mezzanine level where guests were gathered in the spacious lounge adjacent the grand ballroom.

      Uniformed waiters and waitresses offered canapés, champagne and orange juice.

      Smile. Do the meet-and-greet thing, comment on the attendance, assure Karsouli’s continued support to members of the charity committee…and refer any awkward questions to Loukas.

      Simple. At least it should have been.

      Except she neglected to factor in Loukas’ constant company, the touch of his hand at the back of her waist, the effect his warm smile had on her equilibrium. Dammit, their projected togetherness.

      It was inevitable the wide diamond-encrusted wedding ring on her left hand would eventually capture attention. Coupled as it was with the plain gold band Loukas now wore, conclusions were reached and the more emboldened requested confirmation.

      The news spread, with almost comical circumspection if one was inclined towards cynical amusement.

      ‘Darling, how wonderful happiness should evolve from such recent sadness.’ Words expressed by the charity committee member were genuine, and Alesha accepted the air-kiss, the obligatory hug as others followed.

      Men, captains of industry, who took the opportunity to shake Loukas’ hand and offer congratulations. And women, some of whom expressed their affection a little more enthusiastically to Loukas than the occasion demanded.

      Two in particular, known for their flirting skills and love of high-living.

      Alesha assured herself she didn’t care when the exquisite blonde melded her body close and wound her arms round Loukas’ neck.

      To his credit, he moved his head so the intended kiss brushed the edge of his jaw, and he summoned a faint smile as he disentangled the blonde’s arms.

      A sparkling laugh, the hint of a moue, then the blonde turned towards Alesha. ‘Darling, he’s delicious. If you hadn’t snared him first…’ The words trailed to a halt, with no doubt of the implication.

      Darling, Alesha was sorely tempted to redress, you’d have been most welcome. Instead she offered a sweet smile, and barely managed to contain her surprise as Loukas lifted her hand and brushed his lips to her sensitive palm.

      For a brief moment the room and everyone in it faded as her eyes locked with his, and the air between them seemed filled with electric tension.

      Then he smiled, and curled her hand within his own. ‘Fortunately, she did.’

      Oh, my…what was that?

      Playing the part, a tiny imp taunted. And he does it so well.

      ‘Pity,’ the blonde voiced with seeming regret. ‘We could have had fun.’ With a pretty wave of her hand the blonde turned and melted into the crowd.

      ‘You can let go now,’ Alesha managed quietly, attempting to pull free without success, for he merely threaded his fingers through her own. She kept her voice light and a smile in place. ‘Must you?’

      ‘Yes.’

      He glimpsed sudden pain darken her eyes, then it was gone.

      It was perhaps as well the ballroom doors opened and the assembled guests converged towards the three main entry points.

      Their table held prominent position, and the usual speeches included gratitude for previous funding together with a plea for the guests’ continuing generosity.

      The drinks flowed, entertainment was provided between each of the three dinner courses, and it wasn’t until coffee was served that there was the opportunity for any lengthy conversation.

      A DJ set discs spinning at one end of the ballroom and provided a mix of music. A time of the evening when some of the older guests began to leave, and the younger set filled the adjoining floor-space.

      ‘Shall we?’

      Dance? With him?

      She had, on a few occasions in the past. Way past, when her life had been uncomplicated and she’d viewed the future as a journey of discovery.

      Following her separation from Seth, the only male she’d chosen to dance with had been her father…occasions when she’d felt protected, safe.

      Loukas and safe didn’t equate.

      In the name of heaven, get a grip. She was in a room filled with people, and she was being too ridiculous for words.

      ‘Sure, why not?’ she managed simply.

      Except being held by him was far from simple. Even in killer heels she was conscious of his height, his restrained strength and his sexual energy.

      One hand lingered at the base of her spine, and she barely controlled a faint shivery sensation as his thumb brushed a gentle pattern over the delicate bones.

      If he sought to soothe, the caress had the opposite effect, and she dug her lacquered nails into his hand in a silent plea to desist.

      A fruitless exercise as he drew her close, splaying the hand at her spine to hold her there.

      Worse, the DJ selected a slow, seductive number and the lights dimmed low, providing a level of intimacy that made her want to pull away from him.

      She tried, without success, and everything within her coalesced and became one highly sensitized ache. It made her want something she’d thought she once held in her grasp…only to be cheated as her emotional dreams were smashed into a thousand pieces.

      Please, she silently begged. I can’t do this.

      I want my life back…the one I carefully rebuilt for myself. No emotional ties, no room for disappointment and heartache.

      ‘I think we’ve managed a sufficiently convincing display,’ Alesha offered evenly, and wondered if Loukas had any idea of the effort it had cost her not to tear herself away from him.

      ‘You’ve had enough?’

      Enough of what? Being held intimately close to him? Playing pretend? Why not go for broke and include both, with emphasis on the former?

      He sounded mildly amused, and she deliberately stood on his foot.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said sweetly.

      ‘No, you’re not.’ He eased her to the edge of the dance floor, then began leading the way to their table.

      The ‘goodnight’ thing took a while, and it was a relief to leave the ballroom and descend the stairs to the hotel foyer.

      The concierge summoned their car, and within minutes the Aston Martin appeared in the forecourt.

      Alesha slid into the passenger seat, fastened the seat belt, then she eased her head against the cushioned rest and closed her eyes.

      Home, bed. And, mercifully, a restful sleep.

      Except СКАЧАТЬ