After the Greek Affair. Chantelle Shaw
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to Larissa, and had felt deeply sympathetic when she’d heard how the Greek girl had been let down by her first designer. In London, Larissa had excitedly pored over Belle’s portfolio, and had rummaged among the samples of vintage French lace, marabou feathers and other trimmings like a child in a sweetshop. Her enthusiasm had been infectious—so what had happened between then and now to cause her to choose a different designer? It didn’t make sense, Belle brooded. Something did not feel right.
She frowned as she recalled something Larissa had said when she had visited the Wedding Belle studio. ‘Loukas wants Jacqueline Jameson to make my dress.’
She’d recognised the name, of course. Jacqueline Jameson was a favourite designer of celebrities across the globe, and at least four Hollywood actresses had worn her dresses to last year’s most prestigious film awards. Belle had felt flattered when Larissa had insisted that she wanted to get married in a Belle Andersen creation, but it seemed that at the last minute she had changed her mind—or given in to her brother.
She stared suspiciously at the arrogant features of the man sitting opposite her, noting the hard line of his jaw and the glint of steel in his eyes. Had Loukas got his own way? Had he put pressure on his sister to employ the designer of his choice? From what Larissa had told her it sounded as though Loukas had hijacked the wedding and was determined to turn it into a showcase to demonstrate his wealth and success, so it followed that he would want Larissa to pick an internationally acclaimed designer to make her dress.
There was only one way to find out exactly what was going on, and that was to ask Larissa, Belle decided, opening her handbag and taking out her phone.
Across the table she was aware that Loukas no longer looked relaxed, but had tensed and was watching her intently. ‘You need to make a call right now?’ he queried, his heavy brows drawing together.
‘I had an arrangement with your sister,’ she informed him, relieved that she sounded so calm when her insides were churning. ‘I’d just like to check with Larissa that she is happy with her decision to commission another designer instead of me.’ She hesitated, and felt a little shiver run down her spine when her eyes clashed with his hard grey gaze. ‘Assuming that Larissa did actually make that decision and it wasn’t made for her.’
‘IT ISN’T necessary to involve my sister.’
Belle gasped as Loukas reached across the table and plucked her phone from her hand. She made a wild grab for it, but he was too quick for her and held it out of her reach, unperturbed by her furious glare.
‘How dare you? Give that back. What do you mean, it’s not necessary to involve Larissa? Surely she is the one person who should be involved? This is about what she wants, after all—or have you forgotten that fact?’ she said sharply.
Loukas’s eyes narrowed at her tone. Many years ago he had been a poor immigrant, living in one of the most deprived areas of New York, but now he was a billionaire business tycoon and he was used to being treated with deference by everyone he met. He did not appreciate having his head snapped off by a diminutive English dressmaker whose business was hanging by a thread.
‘I know what is best for my sister—and with respect, Ms Andersen, I’m pretty sure that person is not you,’ he said bluntly.
Belle blinked at him, shocked by his arrogant assumption that he knew his sister’s mind better than Larissa did herself. But why was she surprised? she wondered. Loukas Christakis had a reputation as a ruthless individual who had fought his way to the top and had no compunction about trampling on anyone who got in his way.
He was watching her with a calculating, predatory look in his slate-grey eyes that was unnerving. But Belle had spent too many years being bossed around by the man she was glad she no longer had to call her father; she had finally broken free of John Townsend and she refused to be intimidated by any man.
‘Larissa hasn’t changed her mind, has she?’ she challenged him fiercely. ‘You’ve decided you want Jacqueline Jameson to make her dress. But why? Have you ever seen any of my dresses? Why are you so certain that I can’t make Larissa the perfect wedding gown she’s hoping for?’
Loukas’s jaw tightened at Belle’s belligerent tone, but to his annoyance his conscience pricked. She had a point. ‘No, I haven’t seen any of your work,’ he admitted.
Despite her anger at his attitude, Belle found her eyes drawn to his broad shoulders. He must work out, she thought, feeling a tightening sensation in the pit of her stomach when she lowered her gaze to his well-defined biceps. His skin was a deep bronze colour and his forearms were covered in fine black hairs. What would it feel like to have those strong, muscular arms around her? whispered the little voice in her head that seemed hell-bent on unsettling her.
She suddenly realised that Loukas was speaking again and hastily forced her mind away from his undeniably sexy body.
‘But you’re right; I would prefer Jacqueline to design Larissa’s dress. She is a personal friend as well as an internationally acclaimed designer. I’ve never heard of you,’ he said bluntly. ‘All I know is that Wedding Belle has only existed for three years. To be frank, I’m not sure you have the experience to design a top-quality wedding dress for my sister and complete the commission to such a tight deadline. Jacqueline has run her design company for twenty years, and I know I can trust her to produce a stunning bridal gown in time for the wedding.’
‘I can do that—if only you would give me the chance.’ Belle leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Loukas. ‘I’m prepared to work night and day to ensure that Larissa has her dream dress.’ When his harsh expression did not alter she shook her head in frustration. ‘Larissa chose me. Surely that counts for something? She’s an adult who should be free to make her own decisions. What right do you have to organise her life for her?’
‘My sister has already been let down by the first designer she chose. Having spent days trying to console her when the wedding dress she had been promised never materialised, I think I have every right to ensure she is not disappointed again,’ Loukas snapped. ‘I realise you must have hoped that this commission would benefit your business, but I have paid you a substantial fee for your wasted time today.’
Belle’s eyes dropped to the slip of paper in her hand. ‘So this cheque is actually a bribe?’ she said in an appalled voice. She hadn’t understood why Loukas had given her enough money to pay for a luxury world cruise rather than simply reimburse her for her plane ticket to Greece, but it made sense now. ‘You expect me to take the money and disappear back to England. Larissa will have no choice at this late stage but to agree to Jacqueline Jameson making her dress, and you’ll have your own way. My God!’ She stared at him disgustedly. ‘What are you? Some kind of control freak?’
The crack of Loukas’s palm onto the wooden table was as loud as a gunshot and caused Belle almost to jump out of her skin. ‘I refuse to apologise for wanting to protect my sister,’ he growled, his face taut with anger. ‘She trusted Toula Demakis, but all the damned woman was interested in was getting as much money as she could out of her. Now the wedding is five weeks away, and I am not prepared to risk Larissa being let down again.’
Belle’s heart sank when she saw the implacable expression on Loukas’s face. ‘It’s true that Wedding Belle isn’t doing as well as I’d hoped when I started out,’ she admitted honestly. ‘But many businesses are struggling because of the economic recession.’
She had been so excited three years ago when, soon after graduating from art school, she had used the small inheritance from her mother to pay the first year’s rent on the studio. Not even John’s scathing comment that she did not stand a chance in the cut-throat world of fashion design had dented her optimism. She hadn’t cared about his opinion. The revelation that he was not her father had freed her from his tyranny and she no longer had to put up with him trying to control