Chapter Three

      ALESHA spent what remained of the morning attending to the immediate business at hand, and chose to have her PA send out for a chicken and salad sandwich with mayo on rye and a double-strength latte.

      Something that became a working lunch eaten at her desk as she accessed computer data, inserted reference notations, took phone calls and instructed Anne to clear an hour between three-thirty and four-thirty.

      The adherence to punctuality was something Alesha considered important…personally, and professionally. And this was business, she qualified as she allowed time to freshen up before presenting herself at Dimitri’s…dammit, Loukas’ office on time.

      He stood close to the plate-glass window with its cityscape view of the inner harbour, cellphone at his ear in quiet conversation as he gestured she take a seat.

      Contrarily she opted to remain standing, and she caught his faint gleam of amusement as he continued conversing in French…with a woman, from the light tone of his voice.

      A lover? Past or present? Certainly a close friend.

      She told herself she didn’t care…and, in truth, she didn’t. So how did she explain the sudden warmth flooding her veins, the slow invidious curling sensation deep within?

      Because she envied the woman his affectionate attention?

      Oh, please. Get real. She no more wanted another man in her life than she wanted to fly over the moon.

      Especially not this man. Impressive, too powerful, too much.

      A slight shiver feathered the length of her spine. Way too much on a personal level.

      Why not call it as it was? The forceful Greek exuded a magnetic sexuality that verged close to the primitive.

      The sensual promise was there, almost a tangible entity, and for one wild moment she wondered what it would be like to be ravished beneath his hands, his mouth…dear God, his possession.

      Soul-destroying. Utterly. Completely.

      Enough already, she upbraided silently. Focus on the here and now.

      Dimitri’s office had undergone a few changes. State-of-theart electronic technology replaced the standard desktop her father had preferred, several files were stacked at the end of the desk, an MP3 player. Tidy, but very much the workspace of a busy man.

      ‘Shall we leave?’

      Alesha cast Loukas a deceptively cool glance as he pocketed his cellphone, collected a briefcase, laptop, and indicated she precede him from the room.

      ‘I’ll meet you at the lawyer’s office,’ she indicated as the lift transported them down to the underground parking area.

      ‘We’ll go together in my car.’

      ‘It might be easier if I follow you.’

      The lift doors slid open and Loukas shot her an analytical look as they entered the concrete cavern. ‘Are you determined to debate me on every issue?’

      The air sizzled with a tension she refused to define. She should cease and desist, but there was a dangerous imp sitting on her shoulder bent on mischief and mayhem.

      ‘My apologies.’ She offered him a sweet smile. ‘I tend to forget most women merely exist to do your bidding.’

      ‘But not you.’ His drawled response held a tinge of humour.

      ‘No,’ she managed with a degree of dry mockery. ‘However, in this instance I’ll concede and get a taxi back to the office when we’re done.’

      They reached the Aston Martin and he unsecured the locking mechanism to the doors, the trunk, deposited his briefcase and laptop, then closed the trunk. ‘I’ll drop you off before I continue on to the airport.’

      ‘It’s out of your way.’

      ‘Get in the car, Alesha.’ His voice held a silky quality that boded ill for further argument.

      She slid into the passenger seat and waited until he moved in behind the wheel before posing with deliberate sweetness, ‘Are you always so appallingly arrogant?’

      He ignited the engine. ‘Whenever the occasion demands.’

      Inner-city traffic and numerous electronically-controlled intersections ensured it took fifteen minutes to cross town, a further five to find a parking bay beneath the lawyer’s office building.

      Alesha was conscious of Loukas’ studied look as he jabbed the call-button summoning the lift, and she tilted her head a little as she held his gaze.

      ‘What?’ she challenged. ‘My mascara is smudged? Too much bronzing powder or not enough?’

      ‘Faultless.’ His silky drawl held a tinge of amusement as the lift drew to a smooth halt.

      ‘While you resemble the quintessential male,’ she responded an instant before she preceded him into the spacious reception area.

      Within a very short space of time she’d sign documentation detailing precise legalese pertaining to the terms outlined in Dimitri’s will. A prenup covering every known contingency.

      Copies of which she’d already perused.

      So why now were the nerves in her stomach tying themselves in knots?

      Because each step she took brought her closer to a marriage she didn’t want. To a man she had no choice but to trust on every level.

      Sure, she could opt out. Except losing Karsouli was too heavy a penalty to pay.

      Consequently she listened to the lawyer’s clarification, the reassurance he felt beholden to relay.

      When he was done, she took up a proffered pen, signed where indicated, then solemnly watched as Loukas attached his signature.

      ‘I consider it an honour to act as a witness to your marriage on Friday. Dimitri would be very pleased with this outcome.’

      Alesha managed a faint smile at the lawyer’s words.

      What about her? Didn’t she count? Or was she merely a pawn in a diabolical game?

      Don’t go there. It’s done.

      Almost.

      Next step…marriage.

      She preceded Loukas into the lift and pressed the ‘ground’ button on the instrument panel.

      He stood too close as he chose ‘basement’, and when they reached street level he merely bypassed her command and sent the lift down.

      Her mouth tightened and she cast him a fulminating glare…which had no effect whatsoever.

      ‘Give it up,’ Loukas advised as the lift doors slid open and he indicated the black Aston Martin.

      He waited until they were both seated before engaging the engine. ‘Can I leave the choice of second witness with you?’

      There was only one person she’d consider asking. Lacey Pattison, lifelong friend and trusted confidante who had, ironically, acted as chief bridesmaid at her first wedding. ‘Yes.’

      Was there such a thing as the sound of silence? If so, it seemed to hang heavy in the car’s interior as he negotiated city traffic before easing the car into the kerb adjacent the office tower housing Karsouli.

      ‘You have