Greek Tycoon, Waitress Wife

‘This will reassure you, I trust,’ he said.

She took the card and looked at it.

‘Alexe-is Ni-Nicol-ai-des,’ she read, hesitating over the foreign syllables.

‘You may have heard of the Nicolaides Group of companies?’ said Alexeis, a hint of arrogance in his voice.

The girl shook her head.

The sense of novelty struck Alexeis again. He had never encountered anyone who had not heard the name of Nicolaides. But then, of course, he moved in circles where everyone knew who had money and what that money derived from. Why should he expect a simple waitress to know such things?

‘It is listed on several stock exchanges, and is capitalised at just under a billion euros. I am the chief executive, and my father the chairman. So you can see, I am sure, that I am quite respectable, and that you are, accordingly, perfectly safe.’

Carrie looked at Alexeis Nicolaides. The surname was a mouthful, but his first name seemed to quiver inside her, as if a vibration had been struck, very deep in her body. There was an uncertain expression on her face.

She ought to go. She ought to ask him to stop the car and let her out. So that she could walk briskly away. Back to her poky bedsit in the run-down house where she didn’t know anyone, to eat toasted cheese for supper as she always did.

The prospect seemed bleak, uninviting, and into her mind crept another thought.

Would it be so very wrong to have dinner with him? This Alexeis Nicolaides, or whatever his name is. Do you think drinking champagne in a luxury car with a man who’s obviouslya millionaire and then having dinner with him is going to happen twice in your life? Do you?

But it wasn’t his obvious wealth, or the luxury car and the brimming flutes of champagne that tempted her.

It was the man. The man who had made her breath catch when she’d first set eyes on him. The man she’d been unable not to stare at, to register as the most amazing-looking creature she’d ever seen.

She could feel part of her brain cut out. The part that was sensible and cautious. And sane.

Another part seemed to be pushing its way forward. Telling her something. Something that was getting more insistent. More persuasive.

More tempting to listen to.

Why not? Honestly, why not? You don’t exactly have a packed social life, do you? You don’t exactly have a million people you know in London to go and see. You don’t exactly have anything else desperately urgent to do this evening, do you? So why not? Why not? What have you got to lose?

‘So,’ Alexeis said, interrupting her thoughts. His voice was still smooth, and again made her feel strange and fluttery inside. ‘You will have dinner with me?’

The expression of uncertainty deepened in her eyes.

‘Um…’ she said. ‘I…I don’t know. I…I…’ She fell silent, just staring at him helplessly, as if she was waiting for him to make the decision for her.

He did. ‘Good,’ he said. ‘Then that is settled. All we need decide now is where you would like to eat. Would you like to choose somewhere?’

He was, he knew, offering her the choice in order to make her feel more in control of a situation that was overwhelming her.

The look of uncertainty in her eyes deepened yet more.

‘I…I don’t really know anywhere in London,’ she said.

He smiled. ‘Fortunately, I do.’

Carrie made no answer. She couldn’t. His smile had come out of nowhere, and it electrified her. Dazzled her. Then it was gone, leaving her nerves tingling. Alexeis took another mouthful of champagne, and the movement triggered her to do so as well.

‘So, you have the advantage of my name, but not I of yours,’ he said encouragingly.

‘It’s Carrie—Carrie Richards,’ she answered, almost hesitantly.

Was she reluctant to give him her name? The novelty again intrigued Alexeis, as did the faint colouring of her cheeks. Women were usually eager for him to know who they were, glad to draw his attention…

‘Carrie,’ he echoed. He lifted his glass in a toast. ‘Well, Carrie, I am enchanted to make your acquaintance,’ he said, with a smile.

She bit her lip, still in a daze about the whole adventure, not seeing the way her gesture made his eyes focus on her mouth. She took another swallow of her champagne, feeling it fizzing warmly down her throat. It seemed to have fizzed into her veins as well. Suddenly she felt buoyant, as if everything were getting light around her. The dejected anxiety and depression she’d felt about losing her job, the bleak loneliness of living in London, seemed far away now, and she was glad and grateful. Grateful to the man who had dispelled it.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, suddenly thrilled at the prospect.

‘My hotel is by the river, and it has a very good restaurant, with a three-starred Michelin chef,’ said Alexeis.

A look of sudden dismay crossed Carrie’s face.

‘Oh, I can’t! I can’t go into a restaurant—I’ve just realised! I mean—I’m still wearing this stupid uniform, and I haven’t got any proper clothes with me!’

Alexeis gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘That won’t be a problem. Trust me.’

He smiled at her again. In the dim interior light, just for a moment, she felt a stab of unease go through her. Not just uncertainty. His smile had seemed, just for a moment, to be amusement at some private source of humour. Then he was speaking to her again, and the moment passed.

‘Have you always lived in London?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’ve only been here a few months.’

‘It must seem very exciting to you.’ It was the sort of thing that seemed appropriate to say to a girl as beautiful as she was, at the peak of her youth.

But she gave a quick shake of her head again. ‘No, I hate it!’

He looked taken aback. ‘Why?’

‘Everyone is so rude and unfriendly, and in a rush, pushing all the time.’

‘Then why do you stay here?’

She gave an awkward half-shrug. ‘It’s where the work is.’

‘There are no waitresses in your home town?’

She looked as though she were about to say something, then stopped herself. Alexeis wished he hadn’t said what he had, lest she think it sarcastic. He hadn’t meant it to be—he was simply surprised that a girl as beautiful as her had expressed so strong a dislike of London. She must have men flocking around her, and she could take her pick from them!

Even as the image formed in his mind he felt himself react. What he was doing was on impulse, he knew, but even with that allowance he still recognised his reaction. He didn’t want her taking her pick of other men. Then his hackles retracted. While she was with him she would have eyes for no one else.

And nor would he…

There was no doubt in his mind about that, at any rate.