The Shy Bride

by Lucy Monroe

  Then his expression morphed and he turned a look of almost pity on Cass. “Watch out. When he gets the bit between his teeth, Neo has a tendency to take over.”

  “You think I haven’t noticed this trait?” she asked with no little amusement.

  Neo crossed his arms and frowned at Zephyr. “I think you’ve got better things to do than stand around gossiping, partner.”

  “Are you going to try and deny you’ve already got a recovery plan in the works for Miss Baker and her agoraphobia?” he asked instead of taking the hint.

  “My research has not reached that point yet.”

  Cass’s heart pounded in her chest. That “yet” was ominous. “Just because you talked me into upgrading the security on my home, do not for one minute think you are going to convince me to go through one of those antiphobia seminars. It’s not going to happen.”

  She’d been there, done that and had the scars to prove it.

  “You’ve tried such a thing?” Neo asked perceptively.

  She nodded shortly.

  “And it did not go well?” he added.

  “I still refuse to answer the door to strangers, don’t I?”

  “That’s just intelligent caution,” Zephyr said approvingly.

  She smiled gratefully at him. Very few people had ever tried to make her feel more normal. The people in her life were mostly vested in getting her back on the stage and that meant making sure she understood just how different she was. Different being one of the kindest terms they used. Broken, foolish, weak, and irresponsible were some others.

  “I’ll want details from the attempts you have made to overcome this challenge in the past.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I assure you, I am not.”

  “Neo doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.” Zephyr shook his head like he pitied the other man.

  Which she noticed made Neo’s jaw clench and he turned a less-than-pleased look on his friend.

  Zephyr put his hands out in the universal What, me? gesture. “I’m only speaking the truth.”

  Neo did not appear mollified. “I’m going to show you just how little a sense of humor I have in a minute.”

  Zephyr pushed away from the table and headed to the door. “Ah, reduced to threats. My job here is done.” He looked back at Cass. “Nice to meet you, Miss Baker.”

  “Cass, please.”

  He grinned. “Nice to meet you, Cass.”

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, too.”

  “Have fun on your day off.” Zephyr winked at Neo.

  Neo flipped him a rude hand gesture.

  Cass gasped and started laughing as the conference room door closed behind the departing tycoon.

  “I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that in front of you.”

  Cass was still smiling when she shook her head at Neo. “If you can’t tell, I’m amused, not offended. I liked watching the interplay between you.”

  “Why?”

  “It shows a side to you I don’t think you exhibit elsewhere.”

  “What if it does?”

  “Tit for tat. You want to know and have already made efforts to discover stuff about me I don’t usually share with strangers, or anyone for that matter.”

  “So, you think you should know similarly personal things about me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Cassandra.”

  “I must. I got you to take time off work, even if that wasn’t my intention.”

  “Yes. And speaking of, the rest of my morning is clear.”

  “You plan to entertain me?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s not necessary. I do have my MP3 player and a pad to take notes on,” she admitted with some shame for her crankiness with him earlier. “And this room is nice and quiet, no distractions…well, except your business partner.”

  “He bought me my first CD of your music. In fact, he bought all of them for me over time. I am embarrassed to admit I never checked for the artist so I could buy them myself, though I listen to your music daily.”

  “That explains how you could be a fan without knowing it.”

  “Yes.”

  She shook her head. “I love music, as you know. I can’t imagine not trying to find out who created and played music I enjoy.”

  He shrugged, but it was obvious he meant it when he said he was embarrassed by his oversight.

  She reached out and squeezed his forearm. “Hey, I don’t have a clue who designed and built my house, but I bet you know.”

  “It was part of the security consult report.”

  “I skimmed that bit.”

  “Are you trying to make me feel less idiotic?”

  “Definitely, because you aren’t even sort of stupid. Is it working?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you took the morning off.” That still boggled her mind, but she’d decided that morning he needed the break he was so determined she take.

  She wasn’t going to backslide and let her fear of being in the way stop her from encouraging him to leave work behind for a little while.

  He nodded. “I thought I might take advantage of your undivided attention and that we could go shopping for my piano? Since both are available.”

  “I see.” She bit her lip, considering whether or not she could psyche herself into going shopping with the man.

  If she wanted to get him out of the office, she’d have to.

  It didn’t promise to be a pleasant morning for her, but if they stayed out of crowded malls, she should be able to manage her anxiety levels.

  And he made her feel safe, like being with him she could do things that normally were beyond her comfort zone.

  “Online.”

  “What?”

  “We can retire to my penthouse and do the shopping online,” he explained.

  “Really? You don’t mind? But honestly? You should always test out a piano before buying it.”

  “Do you think if I had an employee buy the instrument that I would have gone to test it out before purchase?”

  “Um, no? But since you have put yourself under the aegis of my expertise, I will have to insist on it. However, we can narrow down our external shopping trip through visiting Web sites and making a few phone calls.”

  He looked pleased with her for some reason. “That sounds good.”

  She stood up. “Lead the way.”

  Before he had a chance to open the door, it swung inward and his PA stood there. “Mr. Stamos, I have Julian from Paris on the line in your office.”

  “Handle it.”

  “But, Mr. Stamos—”

  “I told you, I am taking the morning off.”

  That caused the blonde to give Cass a frown that turned into a death glare when she noticed the untouched bottle of water on the table.

  Cass grabbed the bottle. “I’ll just take this with me.”

  “I have water in my penthouse,” Neo said, sounding bemused.

  “There’s no sense wasting it.” Miss Parks had been annoyed enough at having fetched it for Cass in the first place.

  Though Zephyr had delivered it, Cass didn’t want any more black marks in the other woman’s book than she already had.

  Neo put his hand out, indicating Cass should go ahead of him. “Whatever makes you happy.”

  The PA’s already stony expression went positively sour.

  “Do not keep Julian waiting, Miss Park.”

  The older woman nodded and left without another word.

  “You call your personal assistant Miss Park?” Cass asked.

  “That is her name.”

  “It surprises me that you use surnames with each other.”

  “She’s worked for me for six years and that’s always been the way she’s preferred it.” Neo didn’t sound like he cared one way or another.

  “Do all of your employees call you Mr. Stamos?”

  Neo frowned. “Yes, I suppose. Why?”

  “Does Zephyr�
�s personal assistant call him Mr. Nikos?”

  “No. Again, why?”

  “You keep people at a distance more than he does.”

  “Just because Zephyr doesn’t think I make friends, doesn’t mean I don’t. I made friends with you, didn’t I?”

  If he considered steamrolling her into making substantive changes on her house as making friends. But that wasn’t really being fair to him, either. “Yes.”

  “You sound uncertain. I thought we’d already established we are becoming friends.”

  “We are.”

  “But?”

  “You’re a pretty forceful kind of guy, aren’t you?”

  “You do not get to where I am being a pushover.”

  “No, I don’t imagine that you do.”

  “That does not mean I always have to have things my own way. I’m taking piano lessons, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.” And he’d taken the morning off when he never took time off so that she would be comfortable. Steamroller, or not, Neo had the makings of a good friend. “Where is your penthouse?”

  “At the top of this building. Zephyr and I share the top floor for our living quarters.”

  “Considering the size of this building, your apartments must be huge.”

  “Part of the penthouse floor is taken up with the pool and workout facility.”

  “You have a pool?”

  “Zephyr and I share it.”

  “Wow. I’ve thought about having one installed in my backyard, but then I wouldn’t have much yard left and I’d only get to use it a few months out of the year.”

  “Seattle’s climate isn’t conducive to year-round outdoor living,” he agreed.

  “Not like Greece.”

  “Living here has its compensations.”

  “I’m glad you like it here.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes, I wouldn’t have a new friend otherwise.” He grinned, his expression nothing short of pleased. “Just so.”

  “Still, I envy you the pool.”

  He laughed warmly. “Finally, something my billionaire status makes you want to have.”

  “You’ve got enough people wishing they were you.”

  “Are you saying I don’t need another fan?”

  “Oh, I’m a fan all right.” Especially of his kisses, but she was nowhere near outrageous enough to say so.

  “I am sure.”

  “I mean it. You’re a great guy.”

  That startled another laugh from him, though she couldn’t imagine why. “You cannot know what a refreshing attitude yours is for me.”

  “Thank you. I think?”

  “Definitely. As for the pool, you are welcome to come use ours anytime you like. I will make sure you get a keycard for our top floor.”

  He couldn’t know how tempting that offer was. She loved to swim, but public pools were more than mildly daunting for her. Or perhaps he did, considering the research he’d done on her condition.

  Regardless, it was more than generous and not a gift she would dismiss on any level. “Thank you.”

  “Not at all. What are friends for?”

  She was smiling as she followed him to the private elevator that serviced his and Zephyr’s offices and penthouse floor.

  Finding the piano turned out easier than Cass expected. She hit it lucky with her first phone call. She’d called her own supplier with little hope they’d have something in stock locally, but they had just taken a Steinway baby grand in as trade on a new, bigger Irmler parlor grand for another professional pianist who lived on Bainbridge Island.

  “It’s something of an extravagance, but the price and immediate availability are very tempting,” she told him after the initial phone call. “And you’ve got the space in your sitting room.”

  Neo’s apartment was huge and although it had obviously been furnished by a professional, it was pretty minimalistic—almost sparse.

  “An upright would be considerably less expensive.”

  “Yes, but not equivalent in tone or performance. That is your standard by which you judge a monetary outlay, right?”

  “More or less. Yes.”

  “If you’re serious about learning the piano, you may as well practice on an instrument of true quality.”

  “You are seduced by this piano’s pedigree.”

  “Maybe a little. A Steinway isn’t to be sneezed at and it really is a bargain.”

  “You’re very animated. I like seeing you like this.”

  She felt herself blushing.

  He shook his head, but smiled. “Is it available to test out like you want?”

  “We can go by their showroom and try the piano out today anytime.”

  He looked at his watch. “Where are they located?”

  She told him the address in west Seattle, which was admittedly closer to her home than his building downtown.

  He nodded. “If we go now, we can make it back in time.”

  “I thought you took most of the day off?”

  “I did, though I still have a meeting later this afternoon.”

  “It won’t take that long.”

  “I did not think it would.”

  “Then what do we have to be back in time for?” she asked in confusion.

  “Lunch. It will be ready at eleven-thirty.”

  “Isn’t that early?”

  “I eat breakfast at six-thirty and you ate only an hour later.”

  “I’m surprised your nutritionist doesn’t have you snacking midmorning with a later lunch.”

  “Normally, you would be right, but today is special.” Because he was taking it off?

  “How did you know I use a nutritionist?” he asked. “I don’t remember mentioning that.”

  She shrugged, tucking her cell phone back into her purse. “Lucky guess. Keeping yourself fit would be top priority and what you don’t have time to do yourself, you would pay for.”

  “You can’t do business from a sick bed.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can. Furthermore, I’m sure you have.”

  “Not as effectively. And Zephyr goes all Greek patriarch on me when he finds out about it.”

  “I bet you do the same to him.”

  “Naturally. I can take care of whatever needs seeing to, but Zee stubbornly refuses to see that and get proper rest.”

  “And he feels the same when you are ill.”

  Neo just shrugged.

  Cass grinned. “You’re two peas in a pod.”

  “We just know who we can rely on.”

  “Each other.”

  “Yes.”

  “No one else?”

  Neo didn’t answer, but she didn’t need him to. It was obvious. They were two men who had learned early not to give their trust easily. Which made the fact Neo saw himself as her friend and had offered her a key to the top floor of his building even more amazing.

  She could not remember feeling so accepted, not even with her parents. Maybe especially with her parents.

  Neo had never been in a store like the one Cass took him to.

  It was located in a converted Victorian house. The entire ground floor had been remodeled into a showroom for the wind instruments and pianos the company sold. The interior designer had done an outstanding job of creating an environment that showed off each instrument to its best advantage. And the acoustics had been enhanced with subtly engineered ceiling panels to maximize the splendor of sound the instruments made.

  He was given a sample of the result when Cass picked up a flute, and after wiping the mouthpiece with a cloth provided by the salesman, played a mesmerizing melody that froze Neo in place.

  When she was done and put the flute down, he cleared his throat. “I thought you didn’t like to perform.”

  She blushed, looking around at the almost empty store. “That wasn’t a performance. It’s only the flute.”

  “It was beautiful.”

  “Thank you, but I was just messing around.”

  Interesting. “I thought you only p
layed the piano.”

  “I dabble on the flute, is all. I wanted to learn the guitar, too, but my parents discouraged it.” She brushed her hand over the flute. “They thought I should keep my focus.”

  “If that’s dabbling, I wonder what you would have achieved with a little less focus on the piano.”

  Cass’s smile was nothing short of beautiful. “Thank you. I love the sounds a flute can make.”

  “I think under your hands, any instrument would sound amazing.”

  She shook her head. “Flatterer.”

  “Not at all.”

  “I love music.”

  “It shows in your compositions.”

  “You really listen to my CDs?”

  “All of them. Don’t ask me to pick a favorite though because no matter how many times I listen, that changes almost daily.”

  She blushed and turned away, toward the glassed-in, soundproofed room that held the piano they had come in to see.

  He followed her. “Surely you are used to such compliments.”

  “Actually, no. One of the side effects of my not performing is that I don’t hear from many of my fans. And when I did perform, my father and manager made sure I spoke to the big money music aficionados, but not normal people who listened to my music just to make their day a little brighter.”

  “We have already established I do not define normal.”

  “But you are nothing like the patrons I was told to cultivate, either.”

  “No, none of them became your friend.”

  She shook her head. “A Greek tycoon for a friend. Who would have thought it?”

  “It only matters that I did.”

  “Too true.” She grinned.

  “You get letters though,” he surmised, going back to the original topic as they stepped up onto the platform where the baby grand piano rested.

  Cassandra slid onto the piano bench, her hands caressing the piano as if it was a dear friend she was meeting for the first time. If that made any sense. “Some. Fans only have my CD label’s address to send them to. Someone there answers fan mail and passes the letters along to me a couple of times a year.”

  “I suppose the demand for your music speaks for itself.”

  “That’s what I tell myself.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  She looked up at him, her amber gaze taking his breath away for a second. “What?”