The Greek’s Cinderella Deal by Carol Marinelli

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘FIVEMINUTES!’ CALLED Mary as she dashed in from a very last-minute appointment at the salon.

Costa was standing by the glass doors, and not even the Aegean Sea, glittering behind him in all its splendour, could draw her attention, for he was beyond beautiful.

He wore black trousers and a white fitted shirt that showed him off to perfection. He was for the first time clean-shaven, his hair tidy and brushed back to give full access to his stunning features.

Mary had met him first in a high-end restaurant, but that had been just one version of him.

This one she was struggling acutely with.

This potent version of Costa she did not quite know how to handle. Because she was expected to dance with him, and kiss him, as if it was normal for them to do so, and yet all she wanted to do was shed her clothes and run to him.

‘You’ve shaved,’ Mary said, impressed with her only slightly high tone.

‘I’ve been shaved,’ he corrected.

There was something else, though. It was as if he’d spent the entire day being polished and perfected, when in fact they’d been beyond late getting back to the retreat.

‘You’re ready?’ she asked.

‘Apart from my watch...’

‘You’d better find it, then. I won’t be long.’

‘No rush.’

He poured her a glass of sparkling water and handed it to her. Mary almost didn’t want to take it, for she feared she might spark into flames if he touched her.

‘Thank you,’ Mary said, and took her drink into the bedroom. Except he followed her in and stood in the doorway. He seemed to think they would chat as she selected her underwear.

‘It’s from Leo’s summer range,’ Mary said as she tried to wrestle her body into the tiniest panties. ‘It’s called Hope Dies Tonight! What a dreadful name.’ He said nothing. ‘Apparently,’ she rattled on, as she snapped on her tiny bra, ‘it sounds better in Greek.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Costa said. ‘It certainly looks better in English.’

Mary looked down. There was clearly no safe flesh-coloured underwear in Leo Arati’s range; this set had a shimmer about it, to cover the most private parts, but it still left a lot exposed through the mesh fabric. Frankly, the Deception range would have been safer!

He watched her wrestle with shoes, and then he took her lovely pale gold dress and held it out for her.

‘Costa...’ It would be easier for her to dress alone than to lean on his shoulder as she stepped into it. Her desire, now discovered and unleashed, should have been pleased to lie quiet for a while and rest, yet it felt as if it was ready to leap into action at the merest whisper of encouragement.

She loved his deep kiss on her stomach as he pulled the dress up, and the way he stared right at her as he tied the halter neck, and the heat of his hands as he reached around to cup her breasts. She wanted him all over again.

‘I can’t believe I’m saying this,’ Mary muttered, ‘but I don’t want to go to the party...’

‘We need to go now.’

He had turned her on to the nth degree and now he wanted them to go to his family party?

He looked at his wrist, where his watch should be but wasn’t. Was he finally relaxing? Finally letting go? But he just collected the card, signed by Mary, and the little present.

She’d make him pay for teasing her like this later!

This time they walked hand in hand through the balmy night, and stopped for a kiss just before they went in. It was sheer bliss.

The second she stepped through the gates she saw thousands of candles almost drowned out by a full moon, the glitter of an ancient pool, and people. People, food and the throb of music. She couldn’t wait to explore.

‘Costa! Mary!’ Yolanda waved them over and greeted them with a smile. ‘You both look stunning.’

‘You look beautiful too,’ Mary said. ‘Your dress...’

‘Leo, of course,’ Yolanda said, and then looked to her son. ‘I wanted to wear Yaya’s earrings; they would have been perfect. But I must have misplaced them...’

‘You don’t need them with that dress.’

‘Really?’

He was so kind to her, Mary thought. Even if he didn’t want to be here, no one would be able to tell.

‘I’ll give you your gift tomorrow,’ Costa said. ‘On your actual birthday.’

‘Spoilsport.’ Yolanda pouted.

‘For now,’ Costa said as he handed over Mary’s card.

Yolanda was, as Mary had predicted, delighted. ‘Eyelashes!’

‘They peel off,’ Mary explained.

Yolanda also loved her seashell earrings—well, perhaps not the actual earrings, but she greatly appreciated the gesture.

‘Finally.’ She patted her son’s smooth cheek. ‘And your stitches are out...’

Mary looked over, for she realised she hadn’t even noticed. Perhaps that was what was so different about Costa tonight.

‘Tell me, please,’ Yolanda persisted. ‘What happened?’

‘Leave it...’ He went to pull Yolanda’s hand away and then changed his mind. ‘It was the man who was making Mary so miserable. He was waiting for me at the airport.’

‘Ha!’ Yolanda’s eyes widened and then she laughed. ‘One minute a fighter, the next in a helmet on his scooter...’

Costa rolled his eyes.

‘They’re all laughing.’ She looked over to Mary. ‘Well done, you. I have told him more than a million times.’

And as Yolanda introduced Mary to the nearest group of guests, Costa’s hand snaked naturally around her waist.

She felt his warm palm sit loosely there, and was so aware of his touch. It struck her as odd that something so simple could cause her stomach to tighten low down, as if a clock were being wound too tight. She had to force herself to focus on the introductions.

‘This is Mia...’ Yolanda said. ‘The retreat’s chef who is refusing to eat...’

Even the sulking Mia smiled. ‘Because I wanted to cook for you tonight.’

‘You cook for me every night,’ Yolanda said.

‘I hear you visited the new restaurant today.’ Mia fired a look at Costa. ‘When you haven’t even been into the retreat’s restaurant.’

‘Because I save the best till last.’ Costa smiled.

He was different here, Mary realised. He was lighter here. Perhaps because it was his home.

‘Roula...’ said Yolanda, and waved her over.

Mary braced herself for impact. But Roula was not what Mary had expected. Though seriously beautiful, it was as if she was doing her best to hide the fact. Aside from the diamond clip holding her heavy Titian fringe back, Roula was very conservatively dressed, and still wore her wedding ring.

‘Mary...’ Roula hugged her. ‘Oh, my God, finally he brings a woman home, and of course she is beautiful.’

There was not even a fish bone’s worth of contention that Mary could detect, but all eyes were on them. All eyes!

It was as if the entire party were watching this moment, as if all the guests were collectively holding their breaths. Mary felt as if she’d walked in halfway through a complicated stage play. No, not even halfway through...more like at the curtain call.

These were the people who played the biggest parts in Costa’s life and somehow she was trying to work out their roles. Roula was supposed to be the leading lady tonight, and Mary felt as if she had stepped into her shoes at the last minute and bumped Roula down to a supporting role.

‘This is my brother Nemo,’ Roula said. ‘Though I suppose you will already have met...’

‘We have.’ Mary smiled. ‘He picked us up from the ferry.’

‘Always working.’ Nemo’s smile did not reach his eyes. ‘It’s good to see you both.’

It was the perfect party, Mary thought, although there were no balloons. But there was laughter and dancing and incredible food that she barely tasted, for she’d been eating on and off all day. This was the kind of night Mary had always wanted—a glimpse of family and acceptance, and a lot of dancing and conversation.

‘I have no idea what Costa is up to tomorrow,’ Yolanda said as the men all began to dance in an odd circle. ‘Do you?’

‘I would never spoil a surprise,’ Mary answered carefully.

She watched Costa slip away from the circle and glance over to Roula. Mary felt a dip in her stomach as the pair moved away together for a moment.

No!

He had told her they were friends, and she had believed him, but, yes, a little seed of doubt sprouted.

Stop it now, Mary told herself as Costa came back from wherever he had been with Roula. This is not your life.

And then glasses started clinking and it was time for the speeches—except Yolanda really didn’t seem to want that.

‘I’ll keep it short,’ Yolanda said, ‘because my English is not good enough for a long speech, and I want to welcome Costa’s English friend. Really, thank you all for being here tonight. I was twenty-five when Stavros left. Two weeks later I lost my sight, I lost my dignity, but worse than that I lost my hope. I thought my life was over. Twenty-five years later, life has never felt so good...’ She looked over to her son. ‘I love you, Costa.’

It was the shortest, sweetest speech, and Mary’s mind was darting. Twenty-five years ago meant Costa had been ten! Ten! Working at the marina, while also being a provider and carer for his mother.

HisEnglish hadn’t slipped when he’d described love as ‘panic’, because Mary was doing that even thinking about what he must have been through.

It was all a blur after that, really. Costa made a quick toast to his mother’s health, but Yolanda really did not want any more speeches and soon the party was back in full swing.

And she was in Costa’s arms again. But there was a churning of anger growing within her.

‘Some lucky star,’ Mary said, and she had to swallow down her bitterness. Only it coursed through her even while his hands held her steady. ‘You never said you were so young. Sleeping on a beach...’ She was trying not to imagine the horrors.

‘Mary,’ he said, ‘nothing terrible happened to me. Yes, it was difficult, and it was a challenge, but nothing truly bad happened.’

She looked up.

‘I do believe I was always looked after.’

They swayed, and danced, and yet she could not close her eyes and sink into the bliss, for she was suddenly aware that she was leaving tomorrow and did not quite know how to step away as she had promised.

Mary looked at the candles burning down, and before her very eyes one died and sputtered out. She watched the snake of black smoke and she repeated over and over to herself the very wish made on the night they had met, Please don’t let this man see how I feel.

Her eyes drifted as they danced.

Nemo clearly wasn’t off duty. He was standing watching proceedings, ensuring there was no trouble. His eyes landed briefly on Mary and she stilled.

‘What’s wrong?’ Costa asked.

‘Nothing.’

He ran warm hands down her shivering arms. ‘Tell me.’

‘Nemo,’ she said. ‘I don’t think he likes me...’

‘Forget it,’ Costa said, and held her closer.

Mary fought to get back to being fine.

But Costa had been right: she was a liar—because she wanted more than a weekend. She wanted to demand to know where the hell he and RouIa had disappeared to. She wanted to command him never to let her go, to let her stay with him always.

She couldn’t help herself. ‘Where were you and Roula...?’

‘I wanted her to speak with Mia, and arrange to take up champagne and some food to get the house ready for Yolanda tomorrow. Why?’

‘I just wondered...’

It would have to do. For now, for tomorrow, for ever.

And if the moon and the stars would just hold their place, if the music would never stop, then they might never have to move on from this moment.