The Dimitrakos Proposition. LYNNE GRAHAM
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the heck would you want to do that?’ Tabby demanded in dismay at the prospect.
‘If we want to give the appearance of a normal couple, we need to be seen out together. Wear that dress.’
‘Oh...’ Tabby said nothing more while she wondered what social horrors dining out with him would entail. She had never eaten out in a fancy restaurant, having always cravenly avoided such formal occasions, intimidated by the prospect of too much cutlery and superior serving staff, who would surely quickly spot that she was a takeaway girl at heart.
Two hours later, having showered and changed, Acheron opened the safe in his bedroom wall to remove a ring case he hadn’t touched in years. The fabled emerald, which had reputedly once adorned a maharajah’s crown, had belonged to his late mother and would do duty as an engagement ring. The very thought of putting the priceless jewel on Tabby’s finger chilled Acheron’s anti-commitment gene to the marrow, and he squared his broad shoulders, grateful that the engagement and the marriage that would follow would be one hundred per cent fake.
‘Fine feathers make fine birds’ had been one of her last foster mother’s favourite sayings, Tabby recalled as she put on mascara, guiltily enjoying the fact that she had both the peace and the time to use cosmetics again. Make-up had been one of the first personal habits to fall by the wayside once she took on full-time care of Amber. But the nanny had been hired to work until eleven that night, leaving Amber free to dress up and go out like a lady of leisure. A lady? She grimaced at the word, doubting she could ever match that lofty description, and ran a brush through her freshly washed hair before grabbing the clutch that matched the shoes and leaving the room.
Acheron’s apartment was vast, much bigger than she had expected. Tabby and Amber had been relegated to rooms at the very foot of the bedroom corridor, well away from the main reception areas as well as the principal bedroom suite, which seemed to be sited up a spiral staircase off the main hall. Acheron Dimitrakos lived like a king, she conceded with a shake of her head, wide-eyed at the opulence of the furnishings surrounding her and the fresh flowers blooming on every surface. They truly did come from different worlds. But the one trait they shared, she sensed, was an appreciation of hard slog and its rewards, so she hoped he would understand why she needed to continue to work.
‘Put it on,’ Acheron advised in the hall, planting an emerald ring unceremoniously into the palm of her hand.
Tabby frowned down at the gleaming jewel. ‘What’s it for?’
‘Engagement ring...marriage?’ Acheron groaned. ‘Sometimes you’re very slow on the uptake.’
Tabby rammed the beautiful ring down over her knuckle and squinted down at it, her colour high. ‘I didn’t know we were going for frills. I assumed you would choose more of a basic-package approach.’
‘Since we’ll be getting married pretty quickly and without a big splash our charade needs to look more convincing from the outset.’
‘I’m already living with you and wearing clothes you bought for me,’ she parried flatly. ‘Isn’t that enough of a show?’
‘Many couples live together without marrying, many women have worn clothing I paid for,’ Acheron derided. ‘What we have has to look more serious.’
The restaurant was dimly lit and intimate and their table probably the best in the room. Certainly the attention that came their way from the staff was so constant that Tabby found it almost claustrophobic. Having studiously ignored her during the drive while talking on his phone, Acheron finally allowed himself the indulgence of looking at his bride-to-be. Her blonde mane tumbled round her shoulders framing a vivid and delicate little face dominated by violet eyes and a lush fuchsia-tinted mouth. He couldn’t take his eyes off that mouth, a mouth modelled to make a man think of sin and sinning.
‘How am I performing so far as your dress-up doll?’ Tabby enquired mockingly to take her mind off the fact that she had still not established which knife and fork to use with the salad being brought to them.
‘You answer back too much but you look amazing in the right clothes,’ Acheron conceded, startling her with that compliment. ‘So far I’m very satisfied with our bargain, and you can be assured that I will play my part.’
As he reached for one fork she reached for another and then changed course mid-movement, her gaze welded to his lean brown hands. Just copy him, her brain urged her.
‘I’ve applied for a special licence. The legalities should be in place in time for the ceremony to be held on Thursday,’ Acheron delivered. ‘My lawyer is making all the arrangements and has contacted Social Services on our behalf with regard to our plans for Amber.’
‘My word, he’s a fast mover,’ Tabby remarked breathlessly.
‘You told me you didn’t want the child to go into foster care,’ he reminded her.
Her skin turned clammy at that daunting reminder of the unknown destination that would have awaited Amber had Tabby not gained his support. ‘I don’t but there are things we still haven’t discussed. What am I supposed to do while we’re pretending to be married?’
A winged ebony brow lifted. ‘Do? Nothing. You concentrate on being a mother and occasionally a wife. I will expect you to make a couple of appearances with me at public events. That is the sole commitment you have to make to me.’
‘That’s great because I want to start up my business again...in a small way,’ Tabby admitted abruptly.
His handsome features clenched hard. ‘No. That’s out of the question. The child deserves a full-time mother.’
Tabby couldn’t believe her ears. ‘Most mothers work—’
‘I will cover your financial requirements,’ Acheron delivered with unquenchable cool. ‘For the foreseeable future you will put the child’s needs first and you will not work.’
Tabby gritted her teeth. ‘I don’t want to take your money.’
‘Tough,’ Acheron slotted in succinctly.
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