Legend Of Lexandros. Anne Mather
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white doors admitted them to the suite of rooms taken over by the Stavros company, and Dallas paused on the cream-coloured pile carpet just inside the suite doors feeling hopelessly out of her depth. Stephanos Karantinos closed the doors, and crossed the short space which gave on to two shallow steps which separated the rest of this huge lounge from the entrance.
Dallas stared about her in astonishment. She had never, not even with her father, experienced such luxury—white leather chairs and scarlet drapes, Swedish wood and lots of low divans covered in rugs. She stood there in her pants and anorak feeling like the cat who went to look at the queen.
And as though to deepen this image a woman rose lazily from one of the divans at their entrance and stared across at Dallas mockingly, scarlet-tipped nails vivid against the black cigarette holder she was using.
Dallas’s eyes were drawn to her as she was the only other occupant of the room, and she wondered who the woman was. Her hair, very dark and sleek, was swept into a high knot on top of her head, and the pure white silk sheath she was wearing clung lovingly to every line of her body, leaving little to the imagination. Dallas supposed she was beautiful, but there was something repulsive about the slanted eyes, and small, yet perfect, mouth.
Stephanos Karantinos turned at the foot of the steps, and said:
‘Come in, Miss Collins, and sit down.’ He indicated a low chair, and Dallas walked slowly forward and did as he asked. ‘Mr. Stavros will not be long. Will you have a drink? A cocktail, perhaps?’
Dallas shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, thank you.’
‘Oh, come on. Something, at least.’ Stephanos grinned. ‘I will mix you a long light drink myself. Something you will enjoy, I can assure you.’
Dallas half smiled, trying to relax, while the other woman looked on smilingly. ‘Stephanos can be very persuasive,’ she said. ‘But not always polite. He hasn’t introduced us, so let me introduce myself. I’m Athene Siametrou.’
Dallas managed a faint greeting, while Stephanos Karantinos mixed her drink, and then handed her a long glass.
‘Athene needs no introduction,’ he remarked dryly. ‘She can be relied upon not to let herself be overlooked.’ His tone was light, but with an undertone of sarcasm, and Dallas wondered why.
To her surprise and relief, however, the drink was delicious—a mixture of lime and lemon and Advocaat, and something else which she couldn’t quite put a name to, it was very warming, and she sipped it gratefully.
She was accepting a cigarette from a box which Stephanos Karantinos had offered her when a door to one side of the apartment opened, and she glanced up nervously to see a man entering the room. For a brief moment their eyes met, and then Dallas looked sharply away, trying to concentrate on lighting her cigarette. But in that split second she had registered everything about him and she wondered why she suddenly felt an intense feeling of dismay. He was certainly nothing like she had imagined, her idea being confused with vague pictures of successful businessmen sporting balding heads and overweight bodies, and unfeelingly predatory features.
Alexander Stavros was none of these things. He was tall, and lean, and wore his clothes immaculately. He was intensely dark; dark-haired, dark-skinned, and dark-eyed, and although Dallas knew he must be forty or more, he certainly did not look it. She could imagine that he attracted women like a magnet; he presented so much of a challenge, for as well as his obvious physical attraction, he was wealthy, and she wondered whether his wife found it difficult to retain his interest when she had so much competition. Her own reactions were difficult to assimilate. She was so conscious of the insignificance of her own position, and she could not help but wonder what his relations were with Athene Siametrou, and whether a man like this could possibly care about the moral obligations of his son.
He took out a slim platinum case, extracted a cheroot, and placing it between his teeth he lit it before speaking. Then he walked lazily across the room to where Dallas was sitting, feeling as though her knees were about to start knocking together. His eyes were appraising and she felt apprehensive.
Athene Siametrou rose to her feet again. She had subsided on to the divan earlier, but with Alexander Stavros’s entrance she became animated once more. With a husky, entreating tone in her voice she said something swiftly in Greek, or so Dallas surmised, and gazed up into Alexander Stavros’s eyes.
Stavros shook his head abruptly, and said: ‘Speak English, Athene. Our visitor cannot understand you.’ His expression was sardonic. ‘But I understand you very well, and you understand me, and therefore there will be no more talk of our engagement this evening. Yes?’ He looked down at Dallas thoughtfully, before continuing: ‘I had thought I mentioned that you should go. Why are you still here?’
Dallas shivered. She thought that if ever he spoke to her like that, in that cold, almost hateful voice, she would curl up inside. But Athene merely sighed herself, and said:
‘You are a pig, darling.’ She looked down at Dallas condescendingly. ‘Take it easy, Miss Collins. You are dealing with complete ruthlessness … on occasion. On other occasions he can be quite … charming.’ She laughed, and swept up the steps to the entrance where she lifted a dark-brown fur, and slung it carelessly about her shoulders. ‘Goodbye, darling! See you soon!’
She went out, closing the door with a flourish, and causing a mild chuckle from Stephanos Karantinos’s direction.
Dallas sipped her drink, avoiding Alexander Stavros’s eyes as he seated himself opposite her, legs apart, his hands hanging loosely between.
‘Now,’ he said, his eyes intent. ‘You are Miss Collins.’
Dallas looked up. ‘Yes, I’m Dallas Collins.’
Alexander Stravos nodded, and then glanced across at Stephanos. ‘Get me a drink!’ he said. ‘You know what.’
Stephanos straightened up from his lounging position near the window and walked across to the cocktail cabinet which occupied one corner of the room.
‘And what is your objection to your sister going out with my son?’ Stavros asked, drawing on his cheroot.
Dallas stubbed out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, playing for time. Now that it had come to the point she felt bereft of reasons.
‘I … well … Jane is an impressionable child. Paris’s attentions are destroying all her girlish ways. She has become avaricious and discontented.’
‘Oh, come now!’ Stavros’s face mirrored his amusement. ‘You can’t possibly blame this on my son!’
‘But I do!’ Dallas’s confidence returned at his attitude. ‘Jane was quite contented to live the kind of life she has always lived until she started dating your son. Naturally, he moves in a different circle from her, the girls have more clothes, more money, they can do as they like, they don’t have jobs to do all day like Jane.’
Alexander Stavros shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Surely your sister is quite capable of seeing these things for herself.’
‘Jane takes Paris seriously! She really believes that people from different walks of life, different backgrounds, can meet on equal terms if they love one another!’
‘And I take it you do not.’ Stavros’s tone was derisive.
Dallas flushed. ‘Do you?’
Stavros rose to his feet before replying. When he did he ignored her question. ‘Tell me, Miss Collins, have you ever been in love?’
‘I … of course!’
‘So it is not a question of jealousy, so far as your sister is concerned?’
‘Jealousy?’ Dallas stood up now. ‘How dare you?’
Stephanos Karantinos handed Stavros his drink, and at his employer’s nod left the room.
Dallas walked to the steps, standing down her half-empty glass.
‘It