In his case, it was as if his mouth simply couldn’t form the words, in Greek, English, or Italian. I headed for an exit sign. I wasn’t sure where it would lead, but I had to get outside. I couldn’t go home just yet, even if I really wanted to. I was not about to go stand out front where anyone passing might see me in the ridiculous getup. The side entrance seemed the best option. I hoped like hell I didn’t set off some fire alarm as I pushed open the door.
No alarms pierced the air, much to my relief. I headed toward a small gazebo area, anxious to put some distance between myself and my parents. I stepped up the couple of stairs and realized it was a garden. It was probably a place for weddings, I thought as I stared out at the small pond with the water fountain shooting water into the air.
I let myself get lost in thought, thinking about why I couldn’t stand up to my father. I was convinced he had purposely humiliated me by asking—no demanding—I wear the suit. No one else was wearing anything close to what I was. It was a deliberate ploy to make a fool out of me.
A footstep startled me. I spun around and saw a woman standing on the second step. She looked like I had caught her doing something.
The soft lights from around the area provided enough illumination for me to see her features. She was wearing a pair of black slacks that flared at the hips before sinking into a small waist and flaring out again over her bustline.
She had an hourglass figure but not the kind of today’s world. She looked like a pinup from the fifties, curvy and lush. Her hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. Her eyes had a slightly exotic tilt at the corners. I couldn’t quite see what color they were from where I stood, but I determined them to be light.
She was gorgeous and staring at me like I were a spotted elephant.
“Sorry,” she said in clear English. “I didn’t know anyone would be out here.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “Please come up.”
She stepped up, her eyes roaming over my suit. I imagined I probably had a glow-in-the-dark thing going on.
“Are you performing at the event tonight?” she asked curiously.
I wasn’t sure if she was teasing or being serious. I wasn’t going to take offense to her comment. She was only stating the truth. “I’m not, although I do come from a long line of Italian performers,” I said with a laugh. “I could probably juggle or something if I tried.”
She didn’t smile. My joke had fallen flat. “I see. Do you work here?”
“No, I’m a guest at the gala,” I told her.
“Oh, tonight?” she asked as if she didn’t believe me.
I grinned. “Yes, tonight.”
“Oh. Well, I just stepped out for some fresh air. I need to get going. Have a good night.” She turned and walked away before I even got the chance to say boo.
I was sure I had scared her off. She’d taken one look at the suit and realized I had to be a crazy person. She didn’t want to be alone in the dark with a crazy man. I didn’t blame her.
I sighed, bummed I had scared away such a beautiful woman. Rand had promised me I would be beating women off with a stick once I got into shape. He lied. My dating game still sucked, and I was still single.
My wallowing and pitying myself didn’t last long. I had apparently found the most popular hideout place. I heard footsteps again and hoped it would be my lovely lady, but it wasn’t.
“Sorry, were you looking to be alone?” a man asked in a slightly accented English.
“No, it’s fine,” I said. “I was just about to go back in.”
“Don’t let me chase you away. I saw the girl out here and thought it was a secret meeting.” He smiled to show he was joking around.
I laughed. “Not so much. A chance encounter with a beautiful woman I’ll never see again.”
“She was very pretty. Did you get her name?” He took a seat on one of the benches and made himself comfortable.
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I didn’t think to ask. I believe I scared her away with my very loud suit.”
“It is loud and does make a statement,” he said with a grin.
“The statement being something like, look at me, I like to make an ass of myself?” I asked.
“Hey, those suits are all the rage in Paris right now,” he assured me. “I’ve seen a variety of bold colors, even orange and red.”
I cringed. “Good god. Why?”
He shrugged. “You never know. Designers want to get noticed, and dressing people in hideous suits is one way to do it. They say it’s high fashion, and everyone eats it up until someone wakes up one day and realizes it was one of those fashion choices that needs to be put back in the box and never looked at again—at least not without sunglasses.”
I had to laugh. “I think you’re right. Are you attending the party tonight?”
“I am. I’m Maceo Vitalis.” He got to his feet and extended a hand.
“Cade Kouris,” I said.
He nodded. “Good to meet you. I see you’re enjoying it about as much as I am.”
I laughed. “These things are a little stuffy for me. I’m only here to please my father, although I don’t think I’ve actually done that.”
“I understand. I’m here because my business manager told me I had to be. I had to shake the right hands and smile at the right women. It bores me. I’d rather be in the south of France or on my yacht in the middle of the sea.” He sighed.
I gathered he was wealthy. He had that look about him. He didn’t seem to be overly arrogant, which was a rarity. “I think that certainly sounds like a better option than this. I should be going. I’ve already been absent long enough to earn a lecture.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Give me a call sometime. We can hang out.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking the card and sliding it into my own pocket. “I don’t have a business card to give you.”
“What’s your number?” he asked, pulling out his phone, ready to input it.
I gave him my number, not expecting to actually hear from him, and shook his hand. “See you around.”
I walked out of the gazebo and followed the path inside. The guy seemed nice enough, but I wasn’t sure why he was interested in hanging out with me. I wasn’t exactly connected. I couldn’t help him make more money or meet the right people. I figured he was just being nice, and I dismissed the offer altogether, heading for the table where my mother and father were talking to another couple.
“You almost missed dinner,” my father said grumpily.
“Well, thank goodness I didn’t,” I quipped.
I took my seat, promising myself I could get through another hour, possibly two. I’d eat, drink, and then make my escape.
I reached for the drink I had left behind and took a long swallow, my eyes scanning the room. I nearly choked on the liquid when I spotted my mystery woman carrying a tray of filled plates to a nearby table.
She worked here!
I was going to talk to her. It would probably be the only chance to do that. I cursed under my breath. The stupid suit made me look like a damn fool. How could she take anything I said seriously?
I’d have to be extra charming.
Chapter 8
Eliana
My feet were throbbing. It had been a long, busy night. The party had lasted later than planned. Unfortunately, our jobs required us to stay until the guests left. We did little things to encourage them to leave, like not coming around to offer more refreshments and clearing tables, but there were a few that lingered, ignoring the cues.
I was tired and ready to go home.
I walked back into the main area, pushing a cart to load up more dirty dishes left behind on the tables. I started tossing used cutlery into the bin. My head was down, and I was doing my best to avoid eye contact with the stragglers who might ask for something else that would keep them there longer. Out of nowhere, a pair of male hands appeared in my line of sight, grabbing a few forks.
My eyes popped up
, staring at the man I had seen outside. He’d taken off the garish blue jacket that matched his pants and rolled up his shirt sleeves. The ridiculous pink tie was still around his neck.
I had to grin. It was so much brighter under the lights. “Did you want something?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No, I thought I’d give you a hand.”
“Why, do you work here?” I quipped.
“No.”
“I can do it,” I said, taking the silverware from his hand.
“I don’t mind. I’d like to help. There’s quite a mess out here.”
“Always is,” I answered irritably.
He picked up some plates and neatly stacked them before putting them on the cart. “Is it always this busy?” he asked.
I sighed, not sure what the guy’s deal was, but I was not in the mood for idle conversation. “Yes, but I can do this. Seriously.”
“I can help. I’d like to help if it means I get to talk to you.” He flashed me a grin. “Nothing more. I expect nothing in return.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t often a rich guy wants to talk to me, and it is even rarer that a rich guy would get his hands dirty by picking up dirty dishes. Seems like you might have an ulterior motive.”
He smirked. “I’m the richest of the rich, which means I set my own rules. I’m Cade by the way.”
“Congratulations,” I said, barely able to contain my irritation. “I can take care of this. It’s what I get paid to do. I don’t need your help.”
He laughed, a deep sound that echoed around me. “I promise I just want to talk. I don’t need you to split your wages with me. I like to talk and work. What’s your name?”
I had to bite back another retort about his idea of work. “Eliana,” I told him reluctantly. “I do appreciate the offer, but I’m fully capable of doing this.”
“I’ve been thinking about you since you left the gazebo earlier,” he blurted out.
I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yes, that’s it. I saw you and decided it was a good chance to speak with you again.”
It was evident he wasn’t going to go away. It was typical of a man like him. He was used to getting what he wanted. He’d probably tell my boss I had been rude to him if I didn’t stand around making idle chit chat, despite the lateness of the hour. “You can talk, but I do need to get these tables cleared—by myself.”
“Fine, I’ll follow you around like a puppy dog and watch you work,” he joked.
“Thanks,” I muttered, tossing dirty napkins into a pile.
“Do you live in the city?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered, giving him no other information.
“You speak really good English. Are you originally from Crete or somewhere else?” He picked up plates from another table and helped me clean, despite saying he wouldn’t.
“Yes, I’m from here. I studied English in school.” I didn’t tell him I had hoped to one day get a job either in London or somewhere in the United States. “What about you? You have a strange accent I can’t quite place.”
I found myself asking him questions when I had told myself I wasn’t interested.
He laughed. “My accent is unique. I was born in Italy. Moved to Greece when I was a child and learned the language. Not great, but I can get by. I was sent to an English boarding school where I was taught the language by American and English tutors over the years. So, I have an English, American, Greek, and Italian accent.”
“Wow. That is impressive.”
He shrugged. “Not really. I’m most fluent in English, but I can get by in Greek and Italian.”
I didn’t get the sense he was bragging, but it was a reminder of his wealth. He’d attended boarding school, so he probably had four houses and twelve cars. He was a spoiled man used to getting what he wanted.
I wanted to throw a plate at him just on principal. “Interesting.”
“What do you do for fun?” he asked.
I sighed, realizing the guy wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. He was following me around the room, despite me trying to get away. “I’m a boring girl. My idea of a fun day is sitting on the beach with a book.”
“Me too!” he exclaimed.
I looked up at him with disbelief. “Really?”
He grinned. “No, but it could be. It sounds nice, except for the book part.”
I shook my head. He was a funny guy, but not my type. “You should try it.”
“I just might do that,” he said. “Do you surf?”
“No.”
“Do you like to take long walks on the beach under the moonlight?” he asked.
I looked at him again, wondering if the guy was drunk. “No.”
He burst into laughter. “I had to ask. I thought that was the standard thing for women to like.”
“Not this woman.”
“Okay, okay, boating, swimming, shopping?” he asked rapid fire. He was relentless.
“I don’t own a boat or know anyone that does. I swim, but don’t we all. And shopping? Shopping is a necessity. It isn’t necessarily an enjoyable experience.” I wanted to add that when you didn’t have an endless amount of money to spend and had to buy only what you absolutely needed, shopping wasn’t nearly as fun for the regular folk.
“I’m not giving up,” he said in a low voice.
I put down the towel I had been using to wipe down a chair and looked at him. “I’m not sure what you want.”
“I’d settle for your phone number,” he replied.
I looked into his dark eyes. He had a warm, friendly face, like he could be your best friend. He was very good looking I realized after letting myself actually look at him. His dark hair was thick and cut short. He had a strong jawline, and his skin tone reflected his Italian heritage. He was tall and looked to be in good physical shape. I imagined he probably dated women that were very attractive, but here he was, hounding me.
“I’m not going to give you my number,” I told him.
“Come on,” he said. “It’s the least you can do.”
“The least I could do for what?” I asked.
He grinned, showing off faint dimples in his cheeks that gave him a boyish appearance. “I helped you clean tables.”
I rolled my eyes. “You picked up a few forks.”
“But it was something. I’ll do more. Hell, I’ll clean all the tables. Please?” He spoke in a sweet voice that was very effective at breaking down my resolve.
“Fine, but I’m making no promises,” I told him.
He pulled out his cell phone. “Hit me.”
I quickly rattled off my number. “Now, I need to finish this. You have to leave.”
“I’ll leave, but I’m going to call you,” he said, still smiling.
“I’m sure you will,” I said, knowing nothing of the kind. He was probably drunk, and I was the first woman his age he saw. He couldn’t help but flirt.
“I’m going to,” he said and walked to the table he’d been sitting at and grabbed his jacket. I watched him leave, wondering what the hell I had just gotten myself into.
Out of nowhere, Lola appeared at my side and squealed. “What was that all about?”
“Nothing, just some bored rich guy with nothing better to do.”
“Did you give him your number?” she asked with surprise.
I shrugged. “It isn’t a big deal. It isn’t like he’s actually going to call.”
“I don’t know,” she said with a laugh. “He seemed pretty into you.”
“Stop. He did not. He probably thought he could get me into bed or for a quickie in the bathroom. Those guys think all they have to do is flash their smile, talk about how rich they are, and a girl will drop her panties.”
“It usually works for me,” she joked.
“You’re so bad,” I replied, pushing the cart toward the back.
“Not bad, but I do know how to be naughty,” she said. “I could talk you through it if you want me to.”
/> I groaned. “No, I don’t want to be naughty.”
“What was his name?”
I shrugged. “Cade.”
“Ha! See? You got his name. That’s a big first step for you.”
“He told me his name. I didn’t ask for it.”
“But you saw how attractive he was, despite his choice in clothes. I wonder if he dresses like that all the time. I suppose it doesn’t matter. You can just keep him naked.” She giggled.
I was used to her constant talk of sex. “No thanks.”
My phone started to vibrate in my pocket. We weren’t allowed to use our phones while we were on duty, but the guests were gone, and we were in the back. I pulled out my phone and didn’t recognize the number.
“Who is it?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“Answer it! If someone is calling this late, it has to be important.”
“It’s probably my mother, drunk,” I said. I hit the green button anyway, just in case she was in trouble. “Hello?”
“Hi,” I heard Cade’s voice and spun around to see if he was behind me.
“What are you doing?” I asked, realizing the voice had come from the phone.
“I wanted to make sure you didn’t give me a fake number,” he said.
I laughed. “And if I had?”
“Then I would get back in there and ask for your real number. And now you have my number.”
I laughed. “Well, now you know. Goodbye, Cade.” I ended the call.
Lola was looking at me with wide eyes. “He already called you?”
I nodded. “He wanted to make sure I didn’t give him a fake number.”
She was smiling. “He’s into you. Good job, girl.”
“No. It isn’t a good job. It’s never going anywhere. He’ll sober up and not even remember my name.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said. “He was looking at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes. He was into you. He’s going to call again.”
I shrugged. “Even if he does, it doesn’t mean I’m going to go out with him. I only gave him my number to get him to leave me alone. He’s not my type. I don’t date rich guys.”
Pretending to be Rich Page 5