Billionaire Heirs: The Kyriakos Virgin Bride

Zac’s uncle shrugged. “She knows she’s the one I love.” The simple words tugged at Pandora’s heart. “You have already met my son.”

Pandora struggled to think who Costas’s son might be.

“Dimitri.”

“Oh, yes.” Relief filtered through her. Zac’s cousin. “He’s the lawyer who drew up the prenuptial and the koum—” she stumbled over the unfamiliar word “—best man,” she amended, “who held the crowns over our heads during the ceremony.”

“Koumbaro,” Zac corrected.

“Yes, koumbaro,” she echoed the Greek word. Zac had explained that, as koumbaro, Dimitri would be godfather to their first child—one day. A wholly unfamiliar feminine quiver shot through her at the thought of a little boy with eyes like Zac. But first she wanted to spend a couple of years alone with her new husband.

“You learn our customs quickly.” Costas looked satisfied. “It has been overwhelming? Meeting so many new people?”

She nodded, grateful for his understanding.

“You can call me Theos—uncle—like Zac does.”

“Thank you, Theos. Zac speaks of you often.” Pandora knew Zac’s uncle had been a father figure to Zac during his teens. A lawyer by profession, Costas had taken an active role on the board of Kyriakos Shipping even though, as Zac’s maternal uncle, he was not a Kyriakos himself. Only when Zac had gained control of the board had his uncle resigned to put all his energy back into his law firm, which he now ran with his daughter, Stacy, and his son, Dimitri. Dimitri ran the Athens office with his father, while Stacy worked in the London office, she recalled. Pandora remembered the respect and love with which Zac had spoken of his uncle during their long nightly transworld calls. “I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said.

“We will talk more tomorrow,” Theos Costas said. He clapped Zac on the shoulder. “Now, my boy, it is time to go dance with your bride.”

“Hey, Zac, it’s your turn to dance.”

The call interrupted Pandora from asking what Costas meant by talking more tomorrow. She glanced around and saw two men approaching, grinning widely.

“Come, Zacharias.”

Zac threw Pandora a rueful glance. “I was hoping to escape this.”

“Not a chance.” The taller of the men chuckled, his hawklike features alight with good humour.

Zac sighed dramatically. “Pandora, meet Tariq and Angelo—more of my cousins.”

Pandora examined them with interest. Zac had spoken about both men with affection and admiration. When his grandfather, Socrates, had died, each of his three grandsons had inherited a sizeable part of his fortune. As the only son of the only son, Zac had inherited the biggest share. But Tariq and Angelo had been well provided for—as had Zac’s sister.

Looking from one man to the other, Pandora could discern small similarities. Not only in the family resemblance in the cast of their features but also in the air of command each of the three radiated.

“Welcome to the family.” It was Angelo who spoke. He had piercing eyes, the colour of the sea, and a crop of golden hair.

Pandora smiled. “Thank you.”

Then Tariq took her by the shoulders and bestowed a kiss on each cheek. “Bring your husband and come and visit Zayad.”

Give us some time alone first,” Zac growled. “We’ll visit in a couple of months.”

Tariq grinned. “Take your time. Now you better go dance.”

Zac whisked her off into a large adjoining room where the ensemble was now playing Greek music and guests swayed in seemingly never-ending counterclockwise spirals. At their appearance a shout went up.

“Zac, here, join in.”

Dimitri beckoned to them.

An opening appeared in the hands. Zac pulled Pandora forward. Then they were part of the swaying, shuffling mass. For the first few minutes it was as if she had two left feet, and she struggled to find the steps to the dance, frowning as she watched Zac’s feet beside her. Right step, cross, right foot point to the back, forward, shuffle and a little hop.

Suddenly the rhythm came, fitting to the strum of the bouzouki on the bandstand. Euphoria swept over her.

She could do this.

As Zac moved, her body mirrored his steps. As his arms went back, hers did, too. As he widened the circle, she went with him and the line behind followed. It was heady stuff.

The music quickened. Zac’s steps quickened. Her feet danced faster and her breath came more rapidly. All around her she could hear a few of the guests singing along in Greek.

She wished she understood the lyrics.

Zac’s hand enfolded her right hand, while on the left she linked hands with Dimitri. The person on the other side of him moved forward. Pandora caught the woman’s eye and they exchanged hectic smiles, then Pandora was concentrating on her feet again, taking care not to lose the rhythm.

The music changed, became softer, slower. She stumbled, Zac’s arm came aroundher, steadying her, then his hand slid down her arm and took her hand again. Heat shot through her. The steps had changed. A frown pleated her forehead. She bit the tip of her tongue and concentrated furiously.

“Let the music take you,” Zac murmured. “Relax. Your body must be fluid like the tide in the sea, not stiff like driftwood.”

Pandora missed the next step.

His fingers shifted under hers. “Loosen your grip on my hand. You’re trying too hard. Listen to the music, feel it ebb and flow through your body.”

Pandora concentrated on the plaintive wail of the singer’s voice.

“She’s singing about her love who went away.” His voice was low. “Each day she waits at the wharf for his boat to return, she is sure he will come back for her.”

The music caught Pandora up. Loss and grief filled the singer’s voice. Tears thickened the back of Pandora’s throat.

“That’s right. Now you have it.” Zac sounded triumphant.

Pandora jerked back to reality.

She was following the steps. “How on earth did that happen?” she asked, amazed.

“Greek music comes from the heart. The dancing translates the music. Your body must feel the music.” His gaze held hers. “It is easy. It’s about what you feel. Don’t make it difficult by thinking about technique, about complex things. Just feel the emotion. The joy of love, the pain of betrayal. The steps will follow.”

A warm flush of accomplishment filled her. The music flowed through her, her feet shifted, her body sequayed forward as she followed Zac.

Again the music changed.

The line broke apart.

Zac tugged her hand. “We’ll sit this one out.” A waiter materialised with a tray of champagne flutes and tall glasses of ice water. “Would you like a drink? Champagne?”

She was hot and thirsty from the effort of the dancing. “Just water, please.”