Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife. Sabrina PhilipsЧитать онлайн книгу.
she’d been finding excuses not to ever since arriving in Athens a week ago, and even now she still had the urge to run in the opposite direction. Which was completely and utterly ridiculous, because of course it was the right thing to do. It was time they both moved on for good. How could it be anything else when she and Rion hadn’t spoken in five years?
It was just that being back in Athens, having to pass the city hall, the old apartment block, had brought her memories to the surface—that was all. But that was all they were: memories. She just felt this way because they hadn’t seen each other since back then, and she was remembering the man she’d once been in love with, when the reality was she’d probably barely recognise him now.
If the exterior of his office was anything to go by, he’d be much changed. And so was she. Whilst she’d been off leading low-cost tours around the globe, with only a guidebook and a battered rucksack on her back, he mustn’t have spent a single day out of his suit, must have worked every hour since to achieve all this.
Was that why he’d never got his lawyers onto it, then? Libby wondered for the umpteenth time. Had he been so focussed on his work that the legalities had simply slipped his mind? As she finally forced herself to take on the revolving doors, and found herself deposited in a vast, gleaming reception area, she could well believe he had.
‘Can I help you?’ the glossy-haired receptionist ventured, shooting a condescending glance over her tiedyed dress and comfy leather sandals. Libby grew suddenly conscious that she was the only woman in the busy entrance hall who wasn’t wearing a pair of impossibly high, pointy stilettos and a designer business suit, but she didn’t let it faze her.
‘I was hoping to see Orion Delikaris—’
‘Have you an appointment?’
Libby knew that trying to speak to him at his office was hardly ideal, but without his address, or any means of obtaining it, she had no other alternative. ‘No, but as it’s lunchtime I thought—’
The receptionist tossed her head and gave a snort of laughter. ‘Then you thought wrong. Mr Delikaris does not have time for a lunch break. He is an exceptionally busy man.’
Libby didn’t need to be reminded. Didn’t doubt that he’d only got busier. But surely after five years he could spare her ten minutes?
‘Maybe you will be so kind as to call Mr Delikaris and let him decide whether he wishes to see me,’ she said, with emphatic sweetness. She’d once negotiated borrowing twenty-two camels to take an entire tour group across the desert at night, when a coach hadn’t turned up, so she’d be dammed if she was going to be frightened off by a woman whose deadliest weapon was immaculate grooming and an over-inflated sense of self-importance.
The woman exhaled through her teeth, wearily lifted the receiver of her phone and tapped a button with one perfectly manicured talon. ‘Electra, darling, so sorry to disturb you. I have a woman here who insists that we notify Mr Delikaris that she is in Reception. Mmm. Yes, another one. She seems to think if he knows she’s here he’ll agree to see her.’
She turned back to Libby. ‘Your name, please?’
Libby took a deep breath. ‘My name is Libby Delikaris,’ she replied. ‘I’m his wife.’
The office was silent.
‘I’m afraid there’s no alternative solution as far as I can see,’ Stephanos answered. ‘You can continue to spend as much time in Metameikos as possible; support local businesses, attend local events and keep trying to get the Mayor on side, but I don’t think anything but getting married is going to truly convince people you plan to settle down there.’
Rion grimaced. ‘I repeat. Marriage is out of the question.’
Stephanos was surprised that the man who’d sworn he would stop at nothing to win this election wouldn’t even consider his suggestion, but decided it would be wise to drop it. ‘Oh, well, even that would have been no guarantee. Without a long-term girlfriend it might have looked a little too much like a publicity stunt—especially so close to the election.’
The intercom on the desk behind Rion suddenly burst into life.
He swooped across to it, his voice curt. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m very sorry to interrupt you, Mr Delikaris, but there’s a woman in Reception who is demanding we inform you that she’s here.’
‘Who is it?’
There was a loaded pause. ‘She says her name is Libby Delikaris and that…she’s your wife.’
Rion didn’t move—couldn’t. The instantaneous flood of pleasure that ran over him was so profound it rendered him motionless.
At last she had returned. At last she deemed him worthy enough.
It was the moment he’d been waiting for—far, far too long. Not because he gave a damn about her opinion any longer, he qualified quickly. But because now, finally, he could take his revenge.
He straightened victoriously. As he did, he caught sight of his team out of the corner of his eye, and suddenly the fortuity of her timing struck him. She had chosen to come crawling back now, just when he needed to convince the world he was all about good old-fashioned Greek values. His eyes glittered, and his mouth curved into a sardonic smile. How convenient.
He pressed the button on the intercom and replied with perfect composure, ‘Thank you. Send her up.’
Rion sensed every eye in the room widen. It was understandable; he’d never mentioned her. But then he never spoke about failed ventures or the past. Since she fell into both categories, he did his best not to even think about her. Sometimes he even succeeded.
‘Apologies, gentlemen. I’m afraid we will need to continue this meeting at another time.’
The men cleared the room without another word. Only Stephanos lingered.
‘You know, an alternative way of convincing people you are the settling kind has just this minute occurred to me,’ he said wryly, looking Rion straight in the eye and walking backwards towards the door. ‘Nothing melts hearts like a reunion story.’
Libby hadn’t used his surname for five years; hadn’t called herself his wife for just as long. If the look of shock on the receptionist’s face was anything to go by, Rion hadn’t mentioned her existence either. Yet it seemed his instruction to send her up immediately was proof enough that she was telling the truth, for within seconds the receptionist had become politeness personified—even explaining in detail how Libby could get to his office on the top floor via the stairs when she mentioned she’d rather not use the lift.
As she ascended the stairs, Libby ignored the doubts churning in her stomach and told herself to get a grip. What they’d had once was already lost, the emotional side of it dealt with long ago. This was just a formality, bound to be nothing more than a slightly awkward but amicable exchange between two people who were virtual strangers to one another now, she tried to convince herself. Maybe when it was over she’d even feel the complete sense of freedom she’d always been searching for but had never quite found. She clung to that thought as she arrived on the top floor, passed through a landing area, and then proceeded along a corridor to knock on a large mahogany door emblazoned with his name.
‘Come in.’
Yes, in theory the emotional side should have been dealt with long ago, but the instant she saw him Libby knew that she had been seriously mistaken.
Of course she was well aware that Orion Delikaris was the most desirable man on the planet. She hadn’t expected that to have changed. But she had expected that age and wealth would have altered him at least fractionally. Instead, to her horror, save for the fact that his suit now looked ludicrously expensive, everything was exactly as she remembered. His strong, proud jaw, his resplendent dark hair, those liquid brown eyes that had fuelled her teenage fantasies and shaped her adult ones. Which had gazed right back at her on their wedding day, their wedding