The Greek’s Cinderella Deal by Carol Marinelli

EPILOGUE

MARYWOKEALONE.

Costa was at times surprisingly old-fashioned, and he had insisted they spend the night before their wedding apart.

It was a very tight timeline, and had been kept a huge secret due to all that was transpiring with Nemo. But she refused to think about any of that today.

The wedding would be on Anapliró.

They had planned to hold it in London, but her father’s leave to attend hadn’t been approved, and so, without him, they had moved the venue.

Costa had flown to Athens yesterday, for dinner with Galen and to tell him about the wedding and ask him to be his best man.

Mary lay in bed and looked at her ring to calm the flutter of panic in her chest. She wasn’t nervous about the day ahead—the journey to Anapliró and then to the gorgeous old church—she was excited for all that.

It was leaving London.

Though both Costa and her father had done their best to reassure her, she felt as if she was leaving her father behind. She had visited him yesterday, said her goodbyes, and sworn she’d be back very soon.

Mary climbed out of bed and pulled on a wrap as someone knocked at the door and her breakfast was delivered.

‘The hairdresser will be here in thirty minutes,’ the butler informed her.

‘Thank you.’

It was a very tight schedule.

Costa was holding true to his faith, and there were many traditions, yet Mary could not shake the feeling that she was missing one of her own.

More than one.

She missed her mother so badly today.

And her father too.

‘Buck up,’ she told herself.

After all, she was marrying Costa and all her dreams were coming true.

She reached for her juice and saw that there was a note on the tray. She immediately recognised Costa’s thick black scrawl.

To my bride...

This must be a Greek tradition she didn’t know about, Mary thought as she sliced open the envelope—the groom must write to his bride on the wedding day. Hopefully Costa wasn’t expecting anything from her.

As it turned out, it wasn’t a particularly romantic letter.

Dear Mary from London,

After your hair is done, please put on your wedding dress and get ready. I have arranged for a photographer to come to your suite as the wedding album should include you getting ready in your home town.

Costa x

Another bloody tradition she didn’t know about.

It was odd, but it upset her that their wedding had turned into a lavish Greek affair.

Actually, that was a lie.

She must stop doing that!

Mary would have paddled herself to Anapliró in a boat just to marry Costa and be surrounded by love.

As her hair was teased into loose waves, Mary knew that what was really upsetting was that, apart from the groom, the people she loved wouldn’t be there.

But it would be easy to put on the dress and smile for some photos. Then she smiled for herself, because her dress really was breathtaking.

Designed and handstitched by Leo Arati, it was the most stunning shade of white she had ever seen. It was a very clear white, but in a certain light there was the palest, palest hint of lavender. She had told him about the lavender in her childhood garden, and Leo had allowed her to take this piece of her home to her wedding.

Her flowers were delivered—a small hand-tied bunch of forget-me-nots with a little sprig of lavender and one single violet orchid... She touched its velvet petal.

All brides cried on their wedding day, Mary told herself, and gave in to a little weeping as she sat there in her dress—even though she was happier than she knew how to be.

She was marrying Costa, Mary told herself, and gazed down at her ring again, which always calmed her.

So much so that she blew her nose and rather wished she did wear make-up, because her eyes were a little bit pink, as was the tip of her nose. Still, she smiled resolutely when the bell to her suite chimed, determined the photographer wouldn’t capture her tears.

Except it wasn’t the photographer.

‘Dad!’ She couldn’t believe it, but her father stood there, resplendent in a dark suit, with a prison officer a few discreet steps away from him. ‘What on earth...?’

‘I’ve got leave for a couple of hours.’ Her dad smiled and took in his stunning daughter on her wedding day. ‘Oh, Mary...’ Now it was her father crying, and he took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. ‘You look beautiful.’

‘Oh, Dad.’

She could not even attempt to stop her tears from flowing now, and she was just so overwhelmed. But for now she was at least safe in her father’s arms.

‘Wipe those tears, Mary. We’ve got a wedding to get to.’

‘But I’m getting married in Greece.’

‘There’s been a change of plan. You’re getting your marriage blessed in Greece,’ her father corrected. ‘Costa is waiting downstairs to marry you.’

‘He planned this!’

‘Yes, but we weren’t sure till last night...’

‘He’s not in Athens, then?’

‘He’s not.’ Her dad smiled. ‘I’ve got something for you...’

He took out a box and she frowned as she opened it, and then blinked in recognition, because it was her mother’s pearls.

‘I could never sell them,’ he said. ‘She wore them on our wedding day.’

He helped her put them on, but there was one more thing she needed before taking her father’s arm. Mary peeled the little magnet from the fridge and held it in her palm.

She was ready.

Or so she thought.

But as she stepped into a rather lavish room at the hotel, Mary gasped.

Yolanda had flown in for the occasion, and it was as if she had brought Anapliró with her, for she was a swirl of silver and turquoise and she was using all her energy to stand as Mary walked in.

Mary could see Yolanda’s tears, and see her hesitancy about what kind of reception she might get. And though Mary wanted to run to Costa, she went to Yolanda first—her soon-to-be mother-in-law.

Costa was standing at the front of the room, staring ahead, and she knew he was allowing his bride this moment to take in the people who were at her wedding, to know the love that surrounded her now. Such love. For as she gave Yolanda a hug she was held in return, and there was the scent of the perfume Mary had bought her.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Yolanda said. ‘I was hurt for Costa...’

‘It’s fine,’ Mary soothed. ‘Let us look to the future.’

A very handsome man came over then, only it wasn’t her groom, for Costa still stood at the front.

‘I’m Galen,’ he said, kissing Mary on both cheeks.

Galen was the most handsome robot on earth.

‘I never thought I’d be at Costa’s wedding,’ he said, by way of introduction. ‘And I deal in probabilities.’

Mary smiled. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’

‘It’s good to be here.’ Galen nodded. ‘But we do need to get on.’ Then he smiled. ‘I ora i kalee...’

The time is good...best wishes...good luck...She didn’t need her translation book to know what he meant.

‘Thank you.’

Mary returned to her father’s arm and centred herself, puffing out a soft breath as the piano that had been gently playing moved on to Wagner. A Greek celebration and Greek music were all to come, but for now the ‘Bridal Chorus’ struck its beautiful chords and everyone turned to face her.

But she had eyes only for one person now.

Costa really was tall, and he looked exceptionally so in a dark morning suit and silver tie. He was wearing a single violet orchid in his lapel, and she knew this one she would press and keep for ever. He was so beautiful.

‘You shaved,’ she said, and her hand moved to his smooth cheek and felt his strong jaw.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘This is the most important day of my life.’

‘Today,’ the celebrant said, ‘we are here to witness the marriage of Costa and Mary... Who gives this woman?’

‘I do,’ said her dad, and Mary looked over to see him smiling.

‘Thank you,’ she said as he let her go with such grace.

And then she listened as Costa gave her his chosen vows.

‘I, Costa Stavros Leventis...’

She smiled for she hadn’t known his middle name until this moment.

‘...promise to love you and be there for you always. To debate at times, perhaps...’ he smiled ‘...but always from a place of love. That will never change.’

It was overwhelming and it was wonderful to have his love offered so freely. It was precious too, and for a moment she wondered if it was possible to be this happy. She feared she might wake up and find him gone.

Except his olive hands held her pale shaking ones firmly.

‘I, Mary Elizabeth...’ She could barely get the words out she was shaking so much.

Costa steadied her with his warm touch and she fingered the little magnet she carried in her hand, so that it felt surely as if her mother smiled and gave her blessing.

‘Take your time,’ he whispered.

She nodded, and took a breath, for there was just one promise to make, just one promise to keep... ‘I, Mary Elizabeth Jones, will love you for the rest of my life and beyond.’

‘We’re good to go, then,’ he said as he slipped on the ring. ‘I’m going to kiss you now, Mary Leventis.’

No longer adrift, she stepped into his arms and Costa kissed his beautiful bride.

‘I can’t wait to take you home.’