Chapter Two
Dion Kourakis leaned against the back seat of his Audi and closed his eyes. The soothing flow of air-conditioning skated across his skin, easing the tension in his muscles and luring him into a state of relaxation. He checked his phone for what must have been the hundredth time that day, refreshing the screen with Sophia’s flight details. He’d found himself counting the minutes like an insomniac counted sheep.
It was a good thing Dion was a master at appearing at ease and in control, even if his mind was a mess. He had a feeling that would serve him well in the next twenty-four hours.
His phone buzzed, and he wearily brought it to his ear. “Hello?”
“Has the mail-order bride arrived yet?” Dion’s business partner and best friend, Nico, asked with a chuckle. The question wasn’t meant with any malice, but it didn’t stop Dion from rolling his eyes.
“That’s not what this is,” Dion replied. “And you know it.”
“I remember when you told me that getting married out of obligation was old-fashioned and unnecessary,” the other man said. “Not all that long ago.”
Of course, his best friend was taking every opportunity to rub that one in his face. He should have known those words would come back to bite him. “And look how that turned out for you,” Dion replied smoothly. “A gorgeous wife, a bouncing baby girl. You’ll have another one on the way before you know it. I’d say it worked out well in the end.”
“Yeah, it did.” A rare softness smoothed his friend’s tone. “Does that mean you’re hoping for a similar outcome?”
“Absolutely not.”
Marriage wasn’t something Dion had wanted for his future. The whole institution was a sham. And even though there were people like Nico who ended up with something real, the marriage part of the equation had nothing to do with it. After all, Nico and Marianna had barely known each other when they’d exchanged vows.
They had something real because they loved each other, not because they got married.
“I’m under no illusions that this is anything but a transaction,” he added. “I need her father’s company, and, in return, I’m going to give her the best life I possibly can.”
“Does it strike you as odd that her father is using her as a negotiating tactic?” Nico asked. “I know you and I aren’t exactly experts on family dynamics, but doesn’t that seem off?”
And why would Sophia agree to an arranged marriage? Cyrus had refused to back down on that condition, so Dion had hoped his daughter would protest it. No such luck. And when Dion had emailed so they could get acquainted, she’d merely responded that she was very happy to be coming to see him and to “partner their families.”
Dion was certain he knew what Cyrus Andreou’s motives were. The older man had tried to act like he wanted a good life for his daughter and that he wanted to get her away from some of the shady dealings lingering after the death of his former boss. Dion wasn’t an idiot. Cyrus wanted to keep a close watch on the family business, and if Dion married his daughter at the time of the sale, it would be very difficult to use a prenup to ensure he kept the company should the marriage dissolve.
Cyrus Andreou was making a mistake if he thought Dion would play along. He would make this marriage work with Sophia Andreou because there wasn’t another choice. Dion’s father was a bastard who left him to grow up alone and unloved in an orphanage. Who left him in the hands of strangers when he could have had a family. Scum of the earth would be a fitting title. Or maybe world’s worst dad. But now he was dead, and his company had gone to Cyrus Andreou. But it belonged to Dion.
And he would take great pleasure in getting his hands on it so he could rip it apart, piece by wretched piece. He would rid the world of his father’s mark and ensure that the name Aristos Katopodis faded into nothingness.
Not that he would tell anybody about his plans. Not even his best friend.
“Maybe, but that’s not my issue. Having a wife won’t be the worst thing in the world. If we’re going to broaden the influence of Precision Investments, then having the cofounders look family friendly is hardly a bad thing.”
Nico snorted. “Who would have thought the two unwanted orphans would grow up to be family friendly?”
“Especially not you,” Dion teased.
“You should see me now. I have a baby on my lap and a wife snoring on my couch.” He laughed. “And I couldn’t be happier.”
Though the two men had looked out for each other from childhood, as they’d both assumed blood brothers might do, they weren’t blood. Regardless, they’d stuck together and started their own company, Precision Investments. Nico had always been reticent about touchy-feely stuff, until recently. Becoming a father and falling in love had changed him.
“I’ll take success over happiness.” Dion grinned. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”
Dion’s driver, Silas, looked up and caught his attention in the rearview mirror. “Miss Andreou’s plane has landed.”
“Gotta go,” Dion said to Nico. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
He disconnected the call and shoved the car door open. Outside, the air was thick and balmy. Dion had come straight from the office, so he was still in his suit, but he ditched his jacket on the back seat of the car, along with his tie.
“You can wait here, if you like,” Silas said. “I’ve got the sign. I can bring her out.”
“No.” Dion shook his head and shut the car door. “She’s come to a new country and doesn’t know anyone. The least I can do is be here to greet her.”
Silas nodded but didn’t say anything further as they walked to the terminal. His staff didn’t know the whole story behind Sophia’s visit. In fact, Nico was the only person who did. As far as Silas and the others were concerned, Sophia was the daughter of a business acquaintance. In the emails he’d exchanged with her, they’d agreed to keep the engagement quiet at first.
Dion’s approach was to bring Sophia to Corfu, give them some time to get to know each other, and then have a quick, private wedding out of the spotlight. There would be no love, no real emotions. Which was precisely why the thought of marrying someone he didn’t know wasn’t all that perturbing to him.
Besides, he’d done his homework. There wasn’t much of Sophia Andreou online (which was a plus), but from the little bit of information he could glean, it was obvious she was the kind of woman he’d want by his side. She worked in her father’s business doing bookkeeping, so she must have a head for numbers. And she was on the volunteer page of a Brooklyn hospital, her face beaming like a ray of sunshine as she held a chubby-limbed toddler in her arms. Aside from that, he’d come across a few older pictures of her and her parents at upscale events posted to her rarely used Facebook profile.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t found her attractive. She was petite with long, dark hair and high cheekbones befitting a model. Not to mention wide eyes with heavy lashes. Definitely pretty. Stylish, too, from the few photos he’d seen. She would fit right into his busy, social lifestyle.
Since it was peak tourist season, the inside of the Corfu International Airport arrivals terminal buzzed. The rattle of suitcase wheels mixed with the din of people chatting in all different languages and the somewhat distorted sound of a gate-change announcement over the speakers.
Dion glanced around, searching for Sophia’s face. He’d seen enough photos to know what she looked like, but he didn’t recognize any of the people coming in from the baggage collection area. Silas unfolded the thick piece of paper, which had Andreou neatly printed in block letters.
“She shouldn’t be too long,” Silas said. “Are we heading straight back to the house?”
“Yes. Kristina is making dinner, and I’m sure Sophia would like to freshen up after her flight.”
He continued to watch the terminal. With the warm weather, people were dressed comfortably for their flights. Even those carrying briefcases weren’t wearing full suits. Out of the corner of his eye, Dion noticed a woman in an
outfit so bright and garish it made him blink.
She wore a boho dress in some mind-bending shades of orange, mustard, and lime green, with the kind of polyester fabric that was a breeding ground for static. On her feet were a pair of worn Birkenstocks over a pair of thick, white socks. Layered on top of the dress was a chunky cardigan in baby-poop beige that was the approximate texture of a pot scrubber. To make the outfit even more obnoxious, she’d layered a few strands of mismatched beads in hot pink, yellow, and blue.
The look screamed little kid raiding eccentric grandma’s dress-up trunk.
“That’s quite an outfit,” he said under his breath.
He’d been flying private for so long—since even before Precision Investments had its own jet—that he’d forgotten how strangely some people dressed for travel. They got their share of backpackers in Corfu.
Still, there was backpacker style, and then there was…that.
The woman looked at him, her eyes narrowing for a second before a big grin broke out over her face. She started walking toward them, a carry-on bag slung over one shoulder and a larger black suitcase rolling along beside her.
Dion averted his eyes and checked his phone. The last thing he wanted to do was engage a stranger in conversation. He was starting to wonder why he hadn’t pushed Sophia harder about coming over on his private jet.
“Hello!” The cheerful voice made him look up.
Up close, the outfit seemed even brighter…if that was physically possible.
“Hello,” he replied with a tight smile before looking down at his phone again.
“That’s all you’ve got to say?”
God, give him strength.
“Don’t you know it’s not good to talk to strangers?” he drawled.
“Ha! That’s a good one.” She tried to elbow him in the ribs. “But you owe me something else.”
He did not have time for this right now. Perhaps the airport had an issue with people pretending to be passengers so they could go around asking for money. It wouldn’t surprise him. There’d been an increase in unemployment in the city over the last few years, which was something his company had worked hard to combat by increasing job opportunities for people who hadn’t been fortunate enough to go to university or even finish high school.
Dion pulled out his wallet, rifling through the cash so he could hand the woman a few hundred euros in the hope that she would leave him alone. “I’m not sure you’re supposed to be doing this here,” he said, holding out the crisp notes. “You’ll get in trouble with airport security. But this should be enough to get you into the city and find a place to stay for a few nights.”
The woman cocked her head but took the cash from him and slipped it under the neckline of her dress and into her bra. “Or I could blow it all on partying.”
He raised a brow. “That’s not a very long-term strategy.”
Silas looked at him like he’d lost it, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Dion had been groomed by a mentor who had taught him to be warm and friendly at all times. Without exception. He could practically hear the old man’s words in his head:
Every interaction is an opportunity to make a fan.
Only this woman didn’t look like someone who would use Precision Investment’s services. He wondered if the suitcase was a ruse so she didn’t get stopped by security.
“Maybe not,” the woman said. “Or I could stay with you. We can split the money and have a good time.”
“I’m in a relationship at the moment,” he lied.
Well, it wasn’t quite a lie. Ever since he’d started negotiations with Cyrus Andreou, he’d made his bed a ghost town. And that was even before he’d said yes. It seemed wrong to think about potentially marrying one woman while courting another. And he really didn’t want to be dealing with this when he was supposed to be meeting Sophia.
“Oh, come on. You find me attractive, don’t you?” She batted her eyelashes.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to find a friend at the moment.”
A strange expression flittered over her face. “A friend, huh? That’s very kind. You’re Dion, aren’t you?” She pointed to the sign. “Andreou. You’re waiting for Sophia Andreou, right?”
Dion’s blood ran cold as he searched the woman’s face. Regret hit him with the force of a sledgehammer. The wide, doe-like eyes, creamy skin. The petite yet curvy frame hidden beneath those hideous layers. The dark chestnut brown hair. The accent.
“It’s me!” She grinned and stuck out her hand. “So nice to meet you.”
No fucking way.
He’d mistaken his wife-to-be for a beggar. For a second, Dion didn’t react. Couldn’t react. His brain was stuck between gears while it processed what in the hell was going on. How could this outlandishly dressed woman be the very same Sophia he’d seen online? The very same woman he’d agreed to marry?
He pasted a smile onto his face. “Sophia, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.” His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, disbelief slowing him down.
“You’re in a relationship, huh? That’s going to be awkward.” She handed her bags over to Silas, who looked as dumbstruck as Dion felt. “You expecting to keep a mistress?”
Silas looked at him sharply, but Dion shook his head and waved his hand. “Silas, why don’t you get the car? We’ll wait for you out front.”
He motioned for Sophia to walk with him toward the terminal exit, and she slipped her arm through his and held him close with a vulture-like grip.
“I meant you,” he clarified.
“Oh.” Her smile seemed a little tight.
“As far as I’m concerned, we’re now in a relationship, so I wasn’t about to accept an invitation from another woman.”
“A true gentleman,” she said. Then she stuck her hand into her bra and fished the money out, shoving it back in his face. “Then this is yours. I only wanted to see how long I could fool you into thinking I was some random stranger.”
A couple walked past with raised brows at the sight of Sophia shaking a wad of cash in his face. “Keep it,” he said. “There’s plenty to see in Corfu, and I’m sure you’ll want to go exploring.”
She eyed him for a moment before shrugging and stuffing it back into her bra, almost giving another man an eyeful as they walked into the valet waiting area.
“Did you have a good flight?” It was the most benign thing he could think to ask.
“Yes, I did. Thank you for putting me in first class. It was very kind of you to offer the private jet, but I’m scared of small planes.”
He didn’t bother to correct her false assumption that the Precision Investments company jet was small. “Understandable.”
“They had the fanciest champagne on the flight.” She beamed up at him. “Normally, I’m used to champagne coming out of a can, so that was a real treat.”
Champagne in a can. He didn’t even know such a thing existed.
“Well, I guess it’s not technically champagne. Sparkling wine is probably more accurate, because it has, like, flavors and stuff mixed in. Champagne actually has to come from Italy, right?”
“France,” he said. “From the Champagne region.”
“Oh, they named their town after the drink? Cool!”
Was she for real? Dion cast a sideways glance in her direction, confused that Sophia was nothing like what he’d imagined. Nothing like the sophisticated, intelligent woman her father had described. He tried not to jump to any conclusions—maybe she’d taken sleeping pills on the plane and was feeling a bit off-color. Or maybe she was nervous. That was entirely possible.
Or maybe Cyrus lied to you. And anyone can present a better image of themselves online.
They walked through the airport’s exit and out into the parking lot, Dion numbly putting one foot in front of the other, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.
…
This was going even better than Sophia could have imagined. Dion had clearly been shocked, which meant her cos
tume was on point.
Thank you, Goodwill!
Of course, she’d pass the euros on to someone who needed them, like a shelter in the city. She had no interest in Dion’s money.
Sophia stifled a yawn. Even a properly reclining seat, fluffy pillow, cozy blanket, and abundance of free champagne hadn’t been enough to lull her into slumber during the flight. Her mind had whirred like a motor without an off switch and she’d used the sleeplessness to catch up on work for the clients of her virtual-assistant business. Working made her feel productive and in control of her future, which was something she desperately needed right now. And, as long as she was squirreling away on newsletters and content plans and events for her clients, she could pretend that everything was okay.
At some point, she would crash, but not yet. Right now, she had to prioritize her mission.
She’d been surprised that her “future husband” had come to collect her himself. After all, a guy like that would have an army of people at his disposal. Chauffers, maids, cooks. The works. Why would he waste his precious time picking her up from the airport?
As they waited for the driver to return with the car, Dion seemed physically repulsed by her. She clutched his arm, fighting against how good he smelled. How delectable. He was hotter than the pictures she’d seen online—dark hair, sharp jaw, and full, kissable lips. Shoulders broad enough to carry the world. Not to mention an arrogant swagger that told her he knew how to use what he had, how to move his body. In another life, she’d be fanning herself. Fantasizing about kissing him…and more.
But not in this life.
Unfortunately for both of them, her attraction was going to have to be squashed like a bug, because Sophia was going to do her best to make herself as unappealing to him as possible. Hence the whole champagne-in-a-can thing. That was a stroke of spontaneous genius, but the raise of his brows told her she’d done well. Maybe he was a food guy? If that was the case, then she could add pretending to be totally uneducated in that area.
How to Lose a Fiance Page 2