Клэр Коннелли – Bride Behind The Billion-Dollar Veil (страница 7)
‘A business arrangement?’ She echoed his pronouncement, trying to make sense of that.
‘Why not?’
A crease formed between her brows and she lifted a hand, tucking a loose bit of chestnut hair behind her ear. ‘Is that even legal?’
His smile held a hint of derision. ‘You think arranged marriages are not binding?’
‘I…’ She couldn’t think straight. ‘I’m sorry. This has come totally out of the blue. You’re seriously saying you want to marry me?’
His gaze was laced with fierce determination, sharp enough to send a blade of apprehension down her spine. ‘I would do anything to get Petó
‘I can kind of see that, I guess.’ She sounded anything but convinced. ‘Except I’m the last woman you’d ever marry. He’s never going to believe this is genuine.’
‘On the contrary, the fact that you are not like the kind of women I am attracted to makes you perfect for this ruse.’
Alice let out a soft laugh, hiding the way his pronouncement hurt. She knew she wasn’t particularly beautiful, and she had no hope that a man like Thanos would ever look twice at her. Not that she wanted him to—she was done with men, done with love altogether. Still, she had a little pride left and in that moment it had been completely hollowed out. ‘How do you figure?’
‘Because you
She resisted the urge to pull a face, even though this conversation was becoming somewhat mortifying. ‘Okay, fair enough. But we just met yesterday.’
‘He doesn’t know that.’
‘I…’
‘For all he knows, you and I have been seeing one another for months.’
Alice lifted a brow. ‘Well, that would hardly be a ringing endorsement of my judgement.’ She lifted her hands apologetically, but continued explaining. ‘I mean, you’ve been in the papers—recently—photographed with different women.’
He waved a hand in the air, as though it barely mattered. ‘Kosta is an intelligent man, who has also done his share of living in the public eye. He knows as well as I do that papers make stuff up. I don’t particularly care what is written about me. I understand the newspapers and blogs have a job to do, but only a fool would take gossip as gospel.’
Alice ignored the implication that she was a fool, given that it had never occurred to her to question what was written about him. ‘I just can’t see this working.’
Determination fired in Thanos’s expression. ‘I would not suggest it if I didn’t think we could convince Kosta.’
Alice’s stomach flipped and flopped. ‘Marriage is a very permanent way to fix a problem like this.’
His smile was bordering on indulgent and Alice felt, suddenly, very naïve. ‘Marriages frequently end in divorce; ours would be just the same.’
‘Fated from the beginning,’ she said, nodding slowly.
‘As most are.’
She was too caught up in the complexity of this to properly note the hard cynicism to his voice.
‘So how would it work?’
He expelled a breath, as though he was relieved, taking her acquiescence for granted, so she hastened to add, ‘I’m not saying yes. I’m just curious as to the details.’
‘I admire your prudence.’
More pleasure, this time slamming against her ribs and catching her completely unawares. ‘Have you eaten lunch?’
‘Lunch?’ The unexpected question roused her from her thoughts. She thought of the bare pantry at home, and her stomach grumbled betrayingly. ‘No.’
‘Fine. Let’s go and discuss this properly.’
‘It’s two o’clock in the afternoon.’
‘So?’ He gestured towards the door with his natural authority and she found herself walking towards it.
But as she crossed the threshold, she felt the need to insist, ‘I’m not agreeing to this, Thanos. I think this is one of the craziest ideas I’ve ever heard, actually.’
‘Fine.’ He nodded, brushing aside her objection with ease. ‘But you are intrigued, no?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted, a half-smile reluctantly lifting her lips. ‘I’m intrigued.’
‘Good.’ He grinned. ‘Then this is a beginning.’ He moved to the elevator, pressing the button. It opened instantly. ‘I promise, I will make it impossible for you to refuse me, Alice.’
She stepped into the lift, and when it began to ascend instead of descend, she suspected the loopy feeling in her tummy had very little to do with the sudden change in altitude.
Alice knew there was a helipad on the roof of the building. She didn’t know that a helicopter was parked there, nor that it was sleek and black, the sky equivalent of a private limousine. As they walked towards it, Thanos pressed something in his pocket and the door slid open.
‘After you,’ he prompted, as if all of this was completely normal.
Thanos took the seat beside her, and, despite the generous proportions of the craft, he made it feel tiny. She was conscious of his every exhalation, conscious of the way his frame was so large that his legs were so, so close to touching hers. She kept her own pinned together, her hands in her lap.
‘Clip in,’ he said, turning to face her, nodding towards the seat belt.
Alice reached behind her, fumbling the seat belt as she tried to clip it into the unfamiliar lock. He reached over, his eyes holding hers, a slight smile at the edges of his face. ‘May I?’
Feeling both naïve and stupid, she nodded. ‘Thank you.’ The words were crisp, and she was glad she’d spoken before he actually reached for the seat belt. Because the way he dragged it across her body sent a thousand volts of electricity into her nervous system, so heat pooled in her gut and spread through her limbs.
It was an innocent gesture though, and Alice had to remind herself that she was definitely not his type. That was the reason he was proposing this ridiculous marriage of convenience. Except—was it really so ridiculous? She could perfectly see the benefit to him, if it meant he could secure the purchase of P & A
And for Alice?
Dared she hope he would offer some kind of salary to her—better than she was earning now—in order for her to go along with this? That had to be what he had in mind.
‘Here.’ He handed her a white headset then looped his own in place, before flicking some dials and switches and bringing the rotor blades to life. The noise was loud—too loud to speak over. He tapped the headset again, smiling as he lifted up off the rooftop.
‘Where are we going?’ she yelled, despite the fact she had a small microphone hooked up to the headset, so he winced a little, sending her a look of amusement.
‘Sorry.’ She laughed. ‘Where are we going?’ A whisper now.
Then he laughed, and the sound was like sun-warmed caramel, her body warmed in an instant and involuntary response.
‘Lunch.’
She arched a brow. ‘I thought you meant a sandwich at the deli downstairs.’
It was his turn to pull a face, his expression scandalised. ‘That’s not food.’
‘It’s…not?’
‘I do not like this American way of eating while you are doing other things. Sandwiches!’ He said the word as if it was an affront to good food everywhere, and she found a small smile playing about her lips.
‘Sandwiches are actually very practical. Portable, tasty, filling…’
He shrugged. ‘Boring.’
And she understood then, because Thanos enjoyed nice things. He enjoyed experiences. Parties. Food. Wine. The sun on his body as he sunned himself on the deck of his yacht.
‘You’re a hedonist.’
He turned to face her. ‘Perhaps. But shouldn’t we all be?’
Alice didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to remind Thanos that she’d spent the better part of the last few years wondering how long she could survive on just potatoes, or just bread.
‘So where are we going?’
‘A little place I know.’
The ‘little place he knew’ turned out to be a restaurant in Brooklyn, so exclusive it wasn’t even signposted. He brought his helicopter down on the roof of a building that was only about ten stories tall, busying himself with the technical requirements of flying for a few moments. Moments in which Alice sat completely still and tried to get her head around this bizarre turn of events.
It only became more bizarre when they entered the restaurant through the kitchen and the chefs stopped what they were doing to basically fawn over Thanos. They all wanted to speak to him, and, to his credit, he took a moment with each of them, and seemed to know most of their names. She watched, fascinated, as he asked questions of each, managing small details—the names of their children or partners, offering condolences to one woman who, Alice gathered, had recently lost her father.
‘You come here often?’ she prompted as they swept into the restaurant itself—a loft space that could have accommodated a hundred diners but which had instead been converted into a room that felt almost like a penthouse lounge, all elegant sofas interspersed with enormous fiddle-leaf fig plants in copper pots. This made it possible for the dining tables to be set far apart, creating complete privacy, and suddenly Alice understood the appeal.