To Catch A Bride. Renee Roszel
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that the wedding was off, all she had to do was get back to her hotel, pack her bags and fly out of San Francisco. She must get back to Kansas to be with her mother and say her last goodbyes to Grandpa Chris.
The first day of June was turning into a nightmare for Nikolos Varos. His flight from Tokyo had been delayed, not once but twice, making him almost miss his own wedding. Then, in the wee hours, when he’d arrived at his penthouse apartment, he discovered a plumbing leak. The place was a disaster, so he’d had to dress for the formal wedding breakfast in his office bathroom.
And now, as he slipped on his tux jacket, the fiancée he had yet to meet came running into his office announcing to his bewildered assistant that she couldn’t marry him.
Peering around the corner where his executive dressing room adjoined his office, he scanned the space, empty now, except for his buttoned-up, button-down administrative assistant. The poor guy stood as though frozen, staring toward the office’s exit.
Niko leaned against the doorjamb and heaved a weary exhale. “What’s the matter, Charles?” he queried, cynicism ripe in his tone. “Never been jilted?”
Niko’s sarcasm seemed to bring his assistant out of his stupor and he turned, his long, thin face ashen. “Is that what happened, sir?”
Niko shook his head, feeling out of kilter from jet lag and lack of sleep. He’d hardly closed his eyes in the last seventy-two hours, getting his schedule squared away for an extended honeymoon, and now this? “I’m new at being dumped, but that little speech sounded like ‘goodbye’ to me.”
He scanned Charles, meticulously groomed, a fastidious detail-man with a prominent patrician nose and the pallor of desk work. Even as naturally pale and grave as he was, Charles looked so bleak Niko almost felt sorry for him.
For him?
Niko sensed the full impact of what just occurred hadn’t hit him yet. He was too tired to be furious. But he had a feeling it would register any minute.
Pushing away from the wall, he adjusted his tuxedo jacket. “No point standing around licking my wounds. There are things to be done.”
“Shall I inform the guests, sir?”
“What?” Niko frowned, surprised by the question. “Of course not.”
“But, sir—”
“Charles,” he cut in, not planning to discuss whose job it was to inform his friends that his wedding had been canceled by his fiancée. “While I’m giving the bad news to my guests, get that woman’s phone number.”
“You want me to call your fiancée at her hotel?” He sounded worried.
Niko reached the doors to his office and turned back. His brain was starting to record the significance of what happened, and his gut began to burn. He’d been discarded like an old pair of shoes, on his wedding day. People had come from all over the world to attend the festivities. Royalty, political heads of state, even a smattering of Hollywood glitterati. Five hundred guests cooled their heels in a ballroom fifty floors below, while his personal future and his pride were being kicked in the teeth by a wisp of a woman from Kansas—of all places! And now, here he stood, looking like a blasted head waiter who’d just lost his job!
“Damn straight I want you to call my fiancée at her hotel.” He turned to go, then stopped to look back. “Rather my ex-fiancée.”
“What do you want me to say, sir?”
“Don’t worry, Charles. I’ll tell you what to say when I return.” He stalked out the door. His head pounded as his travel-weary brain finally grasped the ugly extent of his predicament—humiliation on a global scale. He jabbed the elevator button to take him down to where the stately breakfast was about to begin. In mere moments he would face the most humbling, emasculating situation he could imagine. In a very public, very costly venue, he would be compelled to admit that, on the threshold of their wedding, his bride-to-be discovered she couldn’t bring herself to marry him.
He stared at the elevator door, wondering if he punched it whether his fist would leave its impression. He shook his head, running an agitated hand through his hair. It would be stupid to break his knuckles simply because some little Kansas hayseed got cold feet. He jabbed the elevator button again, a rush of self-contempt washing over him.
He—Nikolos Varos—who’d always been so condescending of his friends’ broken marriages, scornful of how they hadn’t been able to keep their families together. Nothing like that would happen to him, he’d thought. He was superior, above the fray. Even his parents hadn’t been able to hold their love match together. But he would. He could. “But look at you,” he grumbled, “Mr. Above-The-Fray can’t even get a countrified bumpkin to walk down the aisle.”
After years of listening to his parents arguments, and hearing his friends whimper, brokenhearted over women, he’d decided the old ways were better—to marry based on logic, common values and beliefs.
His brain taunted him with echoes of Kalli’s blunt, hurried rejection and he gritted his teeth. His grandfather, Dionysus, had blathered on about the Angelis family for what seemed like forever. About how, at the age of twelve, Dion had saved Christos Angelis from drowning in a fishing accident. They’d been best friends ever since, and had vowed to join the two families. At first the idea of marrying some stranger from Kansas had only made Niko laugh, but he’d been handed her picture and found her appealing—at least, physically.
Though she wasn’t a classic beauty, she had a lot of dark, shiny hair, large, lavender eyes and a strangely haunting smile. He had to admit, her picture was hardly a negative factor in his tally. Also on the plus side, the Varos family and the Angelis family came from the town of Kouteopothi, in Greece. They had common roots, held common beliefs, traditions. Most importantly, the families were bound by an all-consuming longing between two elderly gentlemen to see an old promise kept.
It hadn’t taken as much soul-searching as Niko believed it would to warm to the prospect. Being a man who put great stock in logic and order, he finally bowed to his grandfather’s coaxing.
Business had kept him away from the States, and he’d had to put off, then ultimately cancel, several planned meetings with Kalli. Still, that didn’t mean he hadn’t grown accustomed to the idea of marriage to her. He’d given her a very fair settlement in their prenuptial agreement. Damn it, he’d even changed his will!
And little Miss Hayloft blithely skips into his office on their wedding day and hacks his well-ordered plans to shreds. His anger surged. Not a man to make weak or empty threats, he growled, “Miss Kalli Angelis, you won’t get away with this.” The elevator doors whooshed open and he stepped inside.
“I won’t need much time,” he pledged, as he formulated his vendetta. “Three weeks will do.”
The elevator doors slid shut and Nikolos Varos began his descent.
Kalli didn’t want to think about anything right now, not the look on her ex-fiancé’s face when she told him she couldn’t marry him, not the fact that she had a long, dreary day ahead of her, trying to get back to Kansas City. And she definitely didn’t want to dwell on how best to pack one, unused wedding dress.
What was she going to do with it once she got it home, sell it? She and her mother had spent hours sewing hundreds of beads on the lace bodice and sleeves, beads from dozens of faux pearl necklaces they’d scrounged from garage sales. She peered at the white confection and experienced a self-condemning twinge. All that time and effort had been such a harebrained waste. An arranged marriage, for goodness’ sake! Had she gone temporarily insane?
Expelling a resigned sigh, she rolled up the dress and shoved it into the suitcase.
Mashing down on the hastily deposited clothes, she struggled with the suitcase zipper. “Do not feel sorry for yourself, Kalli Angelis!” She sniffed. “You weren’t in love with the man. You’d only seen one old snapshot of him—when he was seventeen, yet!” She had to admit the grown man in the office didn’t look