by Pippa Roscoe
‘Annabelle has not seen Meredith or heard from her since that day. Until six months ago. Her lawyers got in touch with mine to demand her return. As if she was a package to be sent back to its sender.’
Loukis leaned forward into the space between them, placing his elbows on his knees. ‘For three years, Annabelle has lived with me. I have seen to her every need from schooling, to holidays, to play dates, and music lessons. She barely remembers Meredith, aside from the ache of abandonment, and I have no intention of letting my sister be taken away to another country by a mother who all but eschews any semblance of maternal instinct.’
Célia seemed to consume the information readily enough, even though he knew that she could barely conceive of the part that she would, now, have to play in his obscene family drama.
‘That is why you’ve been working to redeem your reputation.’ It was a statement rather than a question, but he nodded anyway.
‘But why keep everything such a secret?’ she queried.
‘Because I know what Meredith is like. I know how she twists and turns things, how her scheming little mind works,’ he concluded, thrust back into the sealed records of his parents’ divorce. How she had turned everything around to make every act, every word a mirror of what it had been in truth. ‘And because I know, with everything in me, that this is just about money. She doesn’t care about Annabelle one bit,’ he said, concluding silently that the reason he knew this was because she had never cared about him. Meredith had eventually shown her true colours, and he half hoped that she would do so again, if it wouldn’t inflict further pain on his sister.
‘Then why are you telling me?’ Célia asked, her amber gaze once again warily watchful.
‘I need you to take a look at something for me.’ He offered her his phone, open to the search engine tab that displayed the shocking headline Liordis At It Again With Mystery Woman!
The three grainy photos showed Loukis ushering Célia into the limousine, the car doing its sudden, urgent U-turn, and the two of them rushing into the house. The speculation about the urgency of their desire for each other was bald and blatant.
The shock that crossed Célia’s features as she read, the way her hand went to her lips as if to stifle some inaudible gasp soothed a little of the anger coursing through his veins. Little, but not enough. Everything he had done in the past three years, all of the attempts to redeem his impossibly tarnished reputation, had burned to dust.
Célia took in the headlines and the black and white photos of herself and Loukis. She hated that some unseen person had followed them, had taken pictures of such a vulnerable moment for Loukis. When she was a child, her father had gone to great lengths to keep her and her mother away from the prying eyes of the press. But attending boarding school, she had seen so many students cowed and buckled under the weight of the paparazzo gaze. Every painful, awkward, embarrassing moment pulled out for inspection. And in her darkest nightmares, the moment that her crimes were published for the world to see brought an unimaginable terror to her. Even the thought that they might discover her father’s identity, as shielded as it possibly could be, scared her, deepening her dependence on denial. They wouldn’t, couldn’t find out. She’d worked so hard to separate her life from before from her life now.
But it was precisely these thoughts that prevented her usually quick mind from putting two and two together to understand what any of what Loukis was saying had to do with her.
She looked up at him then, his fierce gaze studying her intently. The steely line of his jaw, tense, his hands braced as if forewarning her of some life-changing moment.
‘What is it?’
‘I cannot risk any further damage to my reputation. Not with Annabelle’s happiness and future at stake. I will not let Meredith get her hands on her, even for a minute.’
She nodded, still not quite understanding where he was going with this.
‘Which is why I need you to sign a non-disclosure agreement.’
The statement came as a bit of a surprise to Célia, but she would have been more than happy to agree to such a thing for the happiness of the little girl who had already begun to creep into her heart.
‘Is that all?’ she asked, half relieved that it seemed to be the case. She took a sip of wine to steady her trembling nerves.
‘No. Sadly it is not. What I need of you now, in light of the press article, is your hand in marriage.’
CHAPTER FOUR
FORTY-FIVE SECONDS LATER, Loukis was wiping at the front of his wine-covered shirt and Célia was mortified.
She didn’t think that actually happened, she’d honestly only seen it in films. But the moment Loukis had uttered his declaration, the gorgeous mouthful of wine Célia had just taken erupted in a half cough, half gasp that covered Loukis’s chest from across the table.
‘I’m so... Loukis, I...’
He cut through the air with a free hand, while the other maintained its hasty dabbing and then seemed to give up altogether. A painful blush rose on her cheeks, stinging in its intensity. Her hands were twisting around each other, as if hand-wringing was some age-old inherited act to express... Célia honestly didn’t know what to think or to feel about Loukis’s strange demand.
With a less than happy sigh, Loukis returned to his seat opposite her as if his five-hundred-dollar shirt had not been ruined and he was clearly determined to resume...negotiations?
‘You want to marry me?’ Célia asked, unable to prevent the slight trembling from affecting her voice.
‘No! Christos, no.’
The punctuation of the second denial felt borderline cruel and unnecessary.
‘We just have to be engaged, until the court awards me custody.’
Célia felt as if she were playing catch up. ‘Why would the court appoint you legal guardian over Annabelle’s mother?’
‘Because I will prove that she is deeply unsuitable to raise the child she abandoned over three years ago. You’ve already witnessed the lengths my sister has gone to in order to avoid seeing Meredith, let alone live with the woman.’
Célia couldn’t argue with that. Even though it had taken little on her part to distract the young girl, she’d clearly been upset enough to cause a great deal of fear and worry on her behalf.
‘But why do you need me?’
Loukis looked at her, clearly frustrated that she hadn’t just jumped to his demand.
‘That photo and the press furore around it will cut through every single inch of positive publicity I have spent the last few years clawing back. I have only two months until the court hearing and there is no time for damage limitation. This, as loath as I am to admit, is the only way to counter the negative impact and present to the court the exact kind of family unit they would need from me in order to grant custody.’
The headache Célia had managed to ward off earlier came back full force and struck her right between the temples. She pressed her thumbs there, ignoring the way that this seemed only to increase Loukis’s frustration.
‘I’m really not sure this is a good idea. I’m certainly not going to lie to a court judge, Loukis.’
‘What would you be lying about? We’d be engaged. That’s the truth,’ he said with a shrug as if it were that easy.
‘I would be lying by telling the judge that we plan to spend the rest of our lives together.’
‘No more than any other couple entering into marriage. The road to hell is, after all, paved with good intentions.’
His cynicism regarding the institution was, while not wholly unexpected, painstakingly obvious and for just a moment Célia felt a little sorry for him. And while she understood his attempts to indicate marriage was some form of hell, she didn’t think he was so obtuse as to not realise that the same could be said precisely of the endeavour he was suggesting himself.
‘And what about Annabelle? What would you tell her?
You can’t expect a ten-year-old to lie about something like that, and nor can you expect me to lie to a ten-year-old. Loukis, please,’ she begged, ‘there must be another way.’
‘Oh, yes, absolutely. The other way is for the press to assume that you spent the night with a client. A client with a particularly sordid reputation of seducing and then abandoning all manner of women. I’m sure that would have a beneficial impact on both our reputations. I wonder how many charities would want to work with you then?’
Célia felt the colour drain from her face. ‘But it could be explained.’
‘It could,’ he assured her in a tone so insincere her teeth ached. But the tenor of his next statement cast chills across her skin. ‘But I have absolutely no intention of doing so. If I’m going down...’
Célia had seen Loukis as many things, but crude and cruel were new to her.
‘That’s blackmail.’
‘Yes.’
His word was swift and assured, contrasting harshly with the threat he had conjured in her mind and the sea of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. For a moment, she was transported back to the last life-defining moment that had pushed her to a precipice she hadn’t seen coming. The sickening realisation that she had been used against her will by the very last man she had ever expected it from.
For five years, she had kept her head down, had changed her name to cut all connections with her father, had swapped her university degree, had done everything she possibly could to avoid any kind of spotlight or attention. Instead, she had funnelled her every waking moment into creating a business that would give back...that she hoped would somehow compensate for her naïve actions five years before. The energy and determination that had taken had nearly consumed her. But this time, she couldn’t run. This time, she couldn’t hide.
Because she believed in her business, had carefully cultivated a rise from the ashes of her previous life. And she would not do that again. So clearly could she see the morning newspaper headlines, she was half convinced they had already happened. Her reputation would be in ruins. Everything she’d worked so hard to achieve, destroyed. By this man. Determination fired in her breast as she fought for control in a situation Loukis currently dominated.
‘What do I get out of it?’
‘I can pay you,’ he said with a shoulder shrug that indicated it was nothing to him. The money, the coercion...
‘I don’t want your money,’ Célia exclaimed with nausea and distaste vying for pole position.
‘Then what do you want?’
She shook her head, utterly horrified by their conversation. Was she actually considering this? Could she even do this? Pretend to be his fiancée? She forced her chaotic thoughts into some semblance of order. Her business was her sole focus. It was the only way she could compensate for her past mistakes. The thought of being paid to be draped across his arm was utterly unpleasant. But if it could bring about more help for more charities...
‘I want six new clients,’ she decided out loud.
Loukis raised his eyebrows. ‘Six?’
‘If you want to make it ten, then—’
‘Six is fine,’ he interrupted hastily.
Loukis felt the pressure in his chest build. He was so close. Célia was, at least, considering his proposal. He had no idea where he might find six potential clients, but he would. He couldn’t risk letting Célia realise how much power she wielded in that moment. She could ask for the moon and he’d have to make it happen.
‘What does it actually entail? I mean, how do you see this playing out?’ she asked, her quick mind leapfrogging ahead of his own. He’d been so focused on actually getting her to agree that he didn’t have all his plans in place. But Loukis was used to thinking on his feet. He wasn’t in charge of one of the world’s top ten companies for nothing.
‘A very public engagement for at least the next four months. After that, I’m sure we can manage a press announcement that outlines how we have decided to amicably separate.’
‘Yes, but what does it actually mean? I have a business in Paris, a life there. I have upcoming events.’
Loukis bit back the scoff of derision. She had only one event, he very much knew that to be the case, but if it gave her the semblance of security to exaggerate her schedule, he would allow her that.
‘You would need to relocate to Greece for the duration. We would need to be seen in public as much as possible. There would be an engagement party at least, but I would also be willing to accompany you to the...events you have in your diary.’
‘How very generous of you,’ she said with as much disdain as womanly possible. ‘Just like that, you expect me to move to Greece?’
‘We will, of course, have been keeping our relationship a secret for the past few months. Not only to protect our privacy, but also your business interests. You were deeply concerned about the effect that this would have on the many fabulous charities you already work with.’
‘Was I, now?’
‘Are you not?’
‘Yes, of course—’
‘Then we are simply backdating a few things.’
Her pretty amber eyes flashed ominously.
‘It is for your benefit as much as mine, I assure you.’ His statement did nothing to dampen the narrowing of her gaze, or the warning it contained. He sighed, resisting the urge to place his head in his hands. ‘I will obviously support financially any expenditure generated by this.’
‘Oh, that’s okay, then. Because of course my first concern was being out of pocket. Not the fact that you want me to lie to the press, a court of law and your little sister.’
‘She is the reason I’m doing this. The only reason. Her happiness and security are my primary concern. I will find you six new clients. I will ensure that your time in this will not be detrimental to you or your business. I will do everything in my power to make this as seamless and painless as possible. Do you agree?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Of course you do. If you make the right one, you’ll be fine.’
The unspoken threat hung in the air between them. Loukis could honestly say that this was an all-time low, even for him, but he’d not been left with much of the same choice that Célia seemed to desperately want for herself. He held his breath until he saw her head bow and caught her gently muttered agreement.
‘Great. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up first thing tomorrow morning.’
No ring, no words of love, no undying declaration. Paperwork. A signature. What on earth had she got herself into?
Time seemed to move differently for Célia the moment she had aligned herself with Loukis. As if under his expressive hands it sped up and slowed down, bent to his will.
She hated that he had been right. Right about the reaction from the world’s press, the accusatory headlines at first placing a notch beside her name on his bedpost. Then after a very carefully worded release from both his company and Chariton Endeavours, she was scrubbed out, removed from that particular wooden totem, and placed beside his name as some kind of wonder; the woman who had tamed the playboy.
He had also been right about the need for her to leave Paris, where her apartment simply wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of nearly one hundred reporters armed with cameras and notepads. Her neighbours had all but requested her removal from the premises, not wholly unreasonably considering hers weren’t the only rubbish bags that had been picked through with a fine-tooth comb.
But it was Ella that had surprised her the most. She had expected caution, concern, questions...not the high-pitched squeal of joy Célia put down to post-pregnancy hormones. Somehow she’d wanted Ella just to know. To realise that this was beyond Célia’s usual behaviour. To understand that there were other forces, namely Loukis Liordis, at play. But Ella had only been full of questions Célia didn’t feel equipped to answer. What was their first date like, thei
r first kiss? When did she know he was ‘the one’? The fact that none of these things had actually happened suddenly and painfully stuck in Célia’s mind.
And then, after the litany of questions, came the deep sigh and, ‘I’m so pleased that you’ve moved on. It’s been such a long time since Marc...’
And that had been too much. Célia had ended the call, disconnecting the painful conversation so much easier than preventing the memories from surfacing.
Because they had surfaced and hung within her all the way through the flight to Greece. The hurt, the confusion...the way, just as everything she’d thought she’d known about herself and her life was shifting, Marc—her last mooring—had removed himself, all the while blaming her.
Which was why, when she arrived back at Loukis’s estate just outside Athens, she wasn’t prepared for the presence of a small, bespectacled woman, dressed head to toe in black, with a ponytail so severe Célia almost winced in empathy for her hair follicles.
‘You see what I’m dealing with?’ demanded Loukis, without even looking up at her from where he was furiously typing away on his laptop.
The woman’s close scrutiny both up and down Célia’s entire being was intrusive to say the least.
‘I see,’ the woman replied, drawing out the second word as if it could convey the gravity of the situation. What situation they were referring to, though, Célia had no idea.
She jumped when the woman approached with a feline grace and began to walk a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree circuit around her. Célia was speechless until the moment the bespectacled woman leaned in to within inches of her face and uttered a low hum.
‘What is going on?’ Célia demanded. She had always hated such close inspection. In fact, it was precisely why she continued to choose the most unassuming, blandly coloured clothing. She just didn’t want to invite that kind of observation.