The Greek Tycoon's Virgin Wife. Helen Bianchin
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of ice in Danika’s startling blue eyes as the model’s lips formed a deliberate pout. ‘Poor darling, you’ll miss out on some fun. I’m available if you change your mind.’ Danika wriggled her fingers in a silent farewell before melting into the crowd.
It was as well the ballroom doors opened and guests were encouraged to take their seats.
Although seconds later Ilana wasn’t so sure as Xandro captured her elbow and led her into the vast room set with well over a hundred tables.
His fingers were warm on her bare skin, his touch electrifying as heat rose deep inside and threatened to affect her equilibrium.
It wasn’t a feeling she coveted, and she fought an instinctive need to withdraw from him. ‘There’s a reason for such seeming togetherness?’ she demanded quietly, and saw one eyebrow slant in musing humour.
‘I enjoy your company?’
She looked at him carefully. ‘It would help if you enlighten me as to what game you’re playing.’
‘Would you believe…none?’
‘Should I be flattered?’ she queried sweetly, and heard his faint husky chuckle.
‘You’re not?’
‘I’d hate to shatter your world,’ Ilana relayed in droll tones as a pretty young thing personally directed them towards a prestige table close to the stage.
Name cards designated seat placings, and it came as no surprise to find Xandro’s name card placed next to her own.
How difficult could it be to converse, smile and play the social game?
Pretend, a tiny voice prompted. You’re good at it.
‘What would you like to drink?’
There was bottled wine on the table, but lunch had been a non-event, and alcohol in any form would go straight to her head.
‘Just water, thanks.’
Xandro poured iced water into her goblet, then filled his own. ‘To good fortune.’ He touched the rim of his goblet to hers in a mocking salute.
The table filled, Liliana joined them and, introductions completed, the evening began with the usual opening speech by the nominated-charity president.
The lights dimmed, and waiters began serving food to the guests as the guest speaker took the podium.
She was supremely conscious of the man at her side…the exclusive tones of his cologne, the clean smell of freshly laundered clothing mingling with the barely detectable essence of male.
There was something dangerous about him that threatened the carefully built armour she’d painstakingly erected in her need for self-preservation.
It made her wary, almost as if she had to gather all her wits together and be on constant alert in his presence.
For heaven’s sake, an inner voice silently expostulated. Xandro Caramanis is nothing to you.
What’s more, you don’t want him to be.
So get over it!
Yet the feeling persisted, making it difficult for her to relax.
Ilana ate mechanically, forking morsels of delectable food into her mouth without really tasting a thing.
It didn’t help to be aware her apparent coupling with Xandro garnered interested speculation. Or that Xandro was the focus of Danika’s attention.
Was he bent on publicly denouncing whatever relationship he’d enjoyed with the glamorous model?
‘No.’
His quietly spoken negation momentarily startled her, and she didn’t pretend to misunderstand as she met his inscrutable gaze.
‘Really?’ She arched an expressive eyebrow.
‘No.’
The reiteration held an inflexibility she couldn’t ignore, and she hated the tense knot tightening in her stomach.
She wanted to demand what are you doing? Except the words remained unuttered as she deliberately turned her attention to a neighbouring dining companion and engaged him in meaningless social niceties.
Yet Xandro’s presence was inescapable, and it irked her unbearably that he had the power to unsettle her nervous system to the extent she became conscious of each movement, every breath she took.
Did he know?
Dear God, she fervently hoped not!
The dinner seemed to take forever, concluding with coffee and a worthy if wordy speech by the nominated-charity chairperson.
Muted music filtered through strategically placed speakers, providing a reason for guests to move freely among the tables, converse…and for many it signalled an end to a pleasant evening.
Any minute soon Liliana would rise to her feet, thank fellow table guests for their patronage, bid them good night…and Ilana would be free of Xandro’s disturbing presence.
Except her relief was short-lived, as Xandro expressed his intention to escort them to the lobby.
‘It isn’t necessary.’
‘On the contrary.’ He cupped her elbow, exerting slight pressure as she surreptitiously endeavoured to put some distance between them.
Don’t, she wanted to protest.
‘I’m considering setting up an auction to benefit the Leukaemia Foundation, and I’d appreciate Liliana’s advice.’
Her mother showed genuine delight. ‘How generous of you. Of course I’ll be only too pleased to help in any way I can.’
‘Good,’ Xandro concurred smoothly. ‘With that in mind, perhaps you’ll both accept an invitation to dine with me in order to discuss details? Shall we say Thursday of next week?’
‘Thank you.’
Liliana would, Ilana knew, rearrange her social schedule in the blink of an eye to accommodate Xandro Caramanis.
They reached the lobby, and Xandro signalled the concierge to have his car and her own brought up from valet parking.
Within minutes a silver Bentley GT slid to a halt outside the main entrance.
‘Seven o’clock,’ Xandro indicated, withdrawing a card from his billfold and penning a few lines on the reverse side. ‘My home.’
With an economy of movement he passed a tip to the bellboy, then he slid in behind the wheel and eased the sleek car out into the flow of traffic.
Seconds later Ilana’s dark blue BMW slid to a halt, and Liliana waited only until Ilana cleared the hotel vicinity before voicing,
‘What a lovely invitation, darling. And quite a coup to have Xandro request my help.’
What could she say, other than…‘So it would seem’?
‘You have reservations?’
Several. Although she refused to settle on any one.
‘You must go, of course.’
‘We, darling. As in both of us.’
Ilana brought the car to a halt at an intersection. ‘Maman, no,’ she said gently.
Liliana offered a pensive look. ‘You won’t change your mind?’
Not any time this century, she silently vowed. The less she came into contact with Xandro Caramanis the better!
CHAPTER TWO
PREPARATIONS FOR THE current Fashion Design Awards ensured Ilana spent most of the weekend in the workroom as she checked and re-checked the selection of garments both she and her partner, Micki, had chosen to enter in the various sections.