A Perfect Man: International Billionaires IV: The Greeks

by Caro LaFever

  “How did you manage to find the perfect color?” Jade added.

  “Alex chose it, didn’t he?” Melanie, with her arm twined around Jack, strolled into the group.

  The conversation stopped.

  Perhaps Sophie’s heart did too.

  She glanced at her fake fiancé. Who was looking at his former fiancée as if she were an excellent addition to his latest masterpiece. “Hello, Melanie.”

  “Hello, yourself.” Her friend smiled, a pleasant smile Sophie couldn’t read. “Let me introduce you to Jack.”

  “Jack Spriggins.” Mel’s companion had an easy way about him and seemed oblivious to the tense atmosphere. He reached out his hand and eagerly pumped the big hand offered. “Glad to meet you.”

  “I can’t say—”

  “Jack is a high school teacher,” she burst in, cutting off what she knew Mr. Perfect was going to say. A putdown that shouldn’t be said if this ball were going to stay golden. “That’s why Mel and Jack get along so well.”

  “I see.” Irony mixed in Alexander’s two words, yet there was also…

  A slice of contemplation? Maybe?

  Her gaze rose to gauge his mood. His body was tense by her side, but when he met her look, his eyes were hazy.

  With contemplation. Definitely.

  This was good, really good. The load of guilt she’d shouldered in the limo, and dragged behind her since they’d arrived, cracked. If he could see her best bud wasn’t for him, then he wouldn’t be as hurt, right?

  She gave him an encouraging grin.

  The caramel eyebrows arched and his mouth firmed.

  If the man would only focus. Look at the way Mel held onto Jack’s hand. Look at the adoring gaze Jack gave her back. Look at how Melanie needed someone tender and kind, not someone who was bold and strong.

  Her brain stuttered to a stop.

  He’s bold and strong, exactly like you.

  Jade’s words flittered around in her mind, a buzzing saw of memory.

  “You two are perfect together.” Melanie’s quiet voice filtered through Sophie’s thoughts. “You fit.”

  The lean arm around her tightened. Sophie kept her focus on his face, forcing her smile wider. She was not going to let him down here in front of his ex. She was not going to let him ruin his plan to prove this was the perfect match for him.

  Even if it wasn’t.

  She didn’t know why this had become important to her. Why it was suddenly all-important to make sure his wounded pride got healed. But there it was.

  And here she was.

  Pushing herself to the tips of her toes, she whispered in his ear. “Smile, damn you.”

  His mouth pinched at the first command, yet when she swore at him, it lit something deep in his eyes.

  Then he laughed.

  The move of his chest, as he took in a breath, made her notice the warmth of his body and the way she had unconsciously curved into his side. She immediately tried to pull away, which wasn’t smart in pursuit of her one goal at the moment, but it was instinctive.

  He saved the day by blocking her efforts with one large hand tightening on her hip.

  “No, no, Sophia,” he whispered, the light still gleaming in his eyes. “You’re not getting away from me.”

  “How romantic.” Melanie sighed in front of them. “I’m happy for both of you.”

  “Me too,” Jack chirped beside her.

  “Well, that’s settled.” Jade zoomed into the conversation, her white teeth blazing, her dark gaze sparkling. “What I want to know is when the dancing starts?”

  Dancing. With Alex Stravoudas. She sucked in her tummy and tried not to get in a tizzy. It wasn’t that she didn’t like to dance. She did. It was the fact that dancing with Mr. Perfect was not on her list of wonderful things to do.

  He was too tall.

  She was too short.

  They wouldn’t fit.

  “Knowing my mother, dancing will come after dinner.” Alexander swung his gaze away from staring at her face and she took in a deep breath of something almost like relief. Which made no sense.

  “Sophie!” Her mother’s cry rose above the crowd surrounding them. A round, pudgy hand slipped in between Jade and her man, Antony, and pushed. Margaret Feuer appeared in front of them, her husband lumbering behind her. A flurry of hugs and kisses commenced, reminding Sophie how much she missed them.

  “I’m glad to see you both,” she admitted, although the situation wasn’t optimal.

  Her father patted her cheek. “We got busy exploring this incredible place and didn’t realize you’d arrived.”

  Her mother’s beaming smile took in her daughter and then her attention switched to the man by her side. “My, my.” Her hands went to her plump cheeks. “Aren’t you beautiful.”

  Alex laughed again.

  Sophie frowned.

  Erich Feuer thrust out a hand. “Glad to finally meet you.”

  Her fake fiancé reached his own hand out to grab her father’s.

  Noticing how small her father’s hand was in comparison to Alex’s, her frown deepened.

  She’d always thought her dad’s hands were the best part of him. As a kid, she’d been in awe of what his hands made every day. She’d watch him roll out the dough, watched him knead his bread, watched him as he gently pulled the loaves from the oven. Her dad’s hand had always held hers when they took a walk in Central Park. His hand had patted her cheek when she’d received her diploma. And his hands had nailed the Pure Pastry sign outside her business’s front door.

  Her dad’s hand appeared small cupped in Alexander the Great’s mighty grip.

  “Good to meet both of you.” The charm oozed from Mr. Perfect. “Sophia’s told me quite a bit about both of you.”

  Could she snort? Was that allowed at your own engagement party when your fake fiancé charmed your parents with a complete lie?

  “No, no.” Her mother brushed Alexander’s hand away. “I need a hug.”

  This farce was getting out of control. “Mom, really—”

  “Let her have her fun with your young man.” Her dad snatched Sophie into his arms once more and gave her another big hug. “You look wonderful, Princess.”

  His compliment made her remember the dress. Had he noticed? A streak of apprehension ran through her. “Daddy.”

  He drew back yet kept his hands on her shoulders. “We’re sorry we couldn’t get here before this afternoon.”

  “I couldn’t shake that pesky flu,” her mother piped in from Alex’s arms. “I didn’t want to give it to both of you.”

  “But we’re here for your big ball and next week is Thanksgiving. Can’t wait for some of your aunt’s stuffing.” Her father smiled, his jowls creasing, his shaggy brows arching over brown eyes. “Then we’ll stick around to help at your bakery while you’re in Paris.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to—”

  “Now, now.” He waved her objection away. “I’ve talked about this with Tamika and she says they need the help.”

  She would feel better about having more hands on deck while she spent a week in Paris. Besides, her dad knew the business. “Okay. Well, that’s great.”

  Her dad’s attention, however, had been distracted.

  His hands tightened on her bare shoulders. Erich Feuer’s eyes went wide as he took in her gown. “Sophie.”

  “My goodness. I didn’t notice because of your Alex.” Her mom rushed over to gaze at her in astonishment. “Your dress.”

  She fought the blush threatening to turn her into a tomato. She fought the self-consciousness about her body she’d carried around since the age of seventeen. And she fought her impulse to run and hide. “It’s only a dress.”

  “Sophie.” Her mom grabbed her hands, sudden tears on her cheeks. “I know it’s so much more.”

  “You are lovely, Princess.” Her dad’s eyes were rimmed with red. “I’m proud of you.”

  The fake fiancé didn’t miss anything. His perceptive gaze switched from on
e parent to another. “Is there a problem?”

  “She hasn’t confided in you?” A look of determination crossed her mother’s face as if she’d found a new mission: tell the fiancé everything about her daughter.

  Abject horror filled every inch of Sophie’s soul. She glanced around, frantic to find some diversion, but the rest of the crowd had moved back, respecting the reunion. “Mom—”

  “That awful teenage boy.” Margaret Feuer shook her head. “Disgusting what he did to—”

  “Mom.” Habit brought her arms around to fold in front of her breasts. “There wasn’t anything—”

  “He hurt my little girl,” her father chimed in. “However, it looks like all is well now since my daughter is confident enough to wear this dress.”

  “A dress I chose for her,” Alexander mused.

  “Seriously?” her mom beamed. “And she agreed?”

  “You chose this?” Instant rage swept away her embarrassment. “You told me—”

  “I believe it’s time for dinner.” Her lying fake fiancé smiled at the surrounding crowd. “Better find our seats.”

  What he said was true, the waiters were bringing out platters of food and placing them on long tables lined along the polished granite walls. Clutching her elbow, her deceitful dictator made for the center table.

  “You have some explaining to do.” She wrenched her arm from his grasp and stomped ahead of him.

  “You do, too.” His words drifted from behind. “I sense a tragic story.”

  “One you’ll never hear,” she muttered under her breath.

  The center table was larger than the rest. His mother and sisters were already seated along with what must be husbands and children. There were four empty chairs, two of which had placement cards with her parents’ names scrolled across them. The last two seats held two sparkly gold crowns.

  “Because you’re the princess and prince of the ball.” A tiny, blonde girl blurted out as she leaned on one of the Stravoudas stars.

  Her mother smoothed a hand across the child’s head and smiled. “Come on, Alex,” she teased. “Be a prince.”

  He laughed and scooped up a crown. Hers. “Let me do the honors.”

  “This is ridic—”

  “Don’t disappoint the children.” He stuck the crown into her curls.

  “Your turn! Your turn!” crowed the little girl.

  Laughing again, he placed the crown on the top of his head. Then he glanced at Sophie and smiled. The smile was wide and real and warm. A shock of painful delight rocketed through her blasting away some of her anger at his deception with the dress.

  “Uncle Alex.” A small boy, with a fluff of white hair, bounded forward. His grin included several large gaps where teeth had once been. “Mom told me you’re still getting hitched.”

  “Yes, George.” He bent down to ruffle the boy’s hair.

  “To a different girl, though.” The boy turned and eyed Sophie. “Are you it?”

  She stifled a laugh and grinned instead. This wasn’t the time to rip into Alexander the Liar so she might as well enjoy herself. “I’m it.”

  The little boy stared at her hard. Another Stravoudas inspection.

  She made a face at him.

  The kid giggled. “You’re funny.”

  “Funny?” Mr. Perfect murmured beside her. “Sophia Feuer? Funny?”

  Before she thought it through, she swung around and stuck her tongue out at him.

  Alex Stravoudas gazed at her with…fascination. Plus, something else. “Don’t give me ideas.”

  Sophie sucked her tongue back in her mouth with a snap.

  Philip guffawed. “Mom, did you see—”

  “Yes, I saw.” One of the leggy sisters slanted a smile Sophie’s way and then waved at her son. “Come and sit down now. Time to eat.”

  She reached for her chair, but before she could grab it, Alexander’s big hand was there. “Allow me.”

  His tone was filled with snark. Sophie glanced over to meet a gaze still edged with the lingering something she didn’t want to define. “I’m able to—”

  “I’m your fiancé.” The blue eyes went steely. “And a gentleman.”

  What was it with this guy? Shoes in a specific place. Clothes in a certain way. Doors opened by particular people. “I can do this myself.”

  “That’s not the point.” He pulled the black-and-gold chair out as his mouth firmed. “Please sit.”

  Her mother and father walked to their chairs and both of them gave her a look. A look she’d received many times in childhood: Behave.

  She plopped onto the red-cushioned seat with a disgruntled snort.

  A whisper of a hot finger slid along her neck, down her spine. From the nape of her hair to the edge of her dress. Shock tightened her muscles as a riot of goose bumps flared along its wake. She couldn’t stop her shivered reaction.

  “Cold, Sophia?” The finger slid back up her spine.

  What was he doing? She tried to focus on the china and silver in front of her, but the touch, the heated stroke, burned her brain. He wasn’t touching her with want or need.

  No, he wasn’t.

  His breath brushed her ear. “I want to hear your tragic story.”

  No, he didn’t.

  “Then I want you to stick your tongue out again.”

  The heat of a blush bloomed under her skin. He couldn’t possibly mean what her wild imagination evoked in a split second.

  No, he couldn’t.

  She sensed him, moving behind her. The chair beside her was pulled out and he sat, turning to respond to one of his sisters.

  Sophie sighed with relief.

  A series of courses flew by. Crab cakes, the breading light and flaky. Chicken Française over noodles, the lemon and garlic sauce rich with egg and butter. And finally, lemon crème brûlée with a garnish of chocolate-dipped strawberries.

  She choked down enough to keep everyone off her case.

  Except for him.

  “Are you sick?” he murmured after her breast of chicken had sat on its noodles untouched for several minutes.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Usually, you gobble down every dinner I serve you.”

  A flush of mortification threatened to explode across her cheeks. She never blushed anymore. Not since she’d left her teenage years behind. Anger rushed back at the realization. “I never asked you to feed me.”

  “That wasn’t my point.” He twirled a fork in his noodles. “What I’m saying is you aren’t a girl to ignore her food.”

  Echoes of the past banged inside her head.

  The fat girl. A cow. Her udders.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her head swiveled and before she could stop herself, she found her gaze latched onto his. “What?”

  “Your face.” His eyes narrowed. “I could tell by your expression that whatever I said upset you.”

  “No, not at all.” She looked away, smoothing her hand across the purple silk of her dress.

  “That’s why I apologized.”

  She glanced back at him.

  “I meant it.” His eyes were intense and focused. “Believe it.”

  Something stuttered inside. Part heart, part confidence. He meant it. She could tell. And the fact, added to the warm grin he’d recently given her, shook her deep inside.

  She tore her gaze from his and stared at the uneaten strawberry.

  A clink of a spoon on a crystal glass broke the concentrated air between them. She shot a look up and met Ceci’s gleaming smile on the other side of the table. His sister’s spoon clinked once more.

  Another spoon joined the noise.

  Then another.

  Soon there was a chorus of clinking crystal pings circling the hall.

  Sophie knew exactly what this meant and she wanted nothing to do with it. She wanted to say heck, no. Instead, she pretended to ignore the whole thing.

  She bit into the strawberry.

  “Sophia.” His voice came close to her ear a
nd was filled with humor. “Don’t pretend. You know what they want.”

  She sucked on the berry.

  “Kiss! Kiss!” Ceci started the chant, but soon the entire crowd joined in.

  A low chuckle came from her side. “We’re going to have to do this.”

  She chewed slowly.

  “Come on.” His big hand gripped her elbow and pulled her from the chair. He turned her until she found herself staring at the shiny silver tie he wore.

  “Hey.” A long finger traced along her neck and then nudged her chin higher.

  She swallowed and looked at him.

  His wide mouth smiled. His blue eyes gleamed. His hand grazed her jaw, landing on the back of her neck. “Kiss me, Sophia.”

  Chapter 9

  He could not get the kiss out of his head.

  Along with other things he didn’t want to think about.

  Alex flipped the hydraulic switch and eased back in the co-pilot chair.

  His pilot, George, who’d been flying Henry and Alex around since their first overseas architectural project, glanced over.

  “What?” he said with irritation. The glance hadn’t been the first shot his way since they’d taken off from LaGuardia four hours ago.

  The pilot tapped one of the myriad switches on the panel. “I don’t usually get the pleasure of your company for such a long stretch.”

  He flicked a piece of lint off his wool pants. “Piloting is a stress relief.”

  “You’re saying you’re more stressed than usual?” George focused on the LCD screen in front of him as if the question were a mere throwaway.

  But he knew better. George had become a good friend during the long hours of travel in the past ten years. He knew him better than most. “Nothing to worry about.”

  Another glance. “Whatever you say.”

  A sudden burst of laughter floated in from the cabin. Alex immediately picked out Sophia’s chortle among the half dozen other voices.

  The kiss, a kiss that had happened more than a week ago, flew right back into the center of his brain.

  He leaned forward and focused on the screen in front of him. “Our altitude is a bit low.”

  “I’m assuming you can fix that yourself.”

  Alex sent the pilot a sullen glance before grabbing the thrust lever.