All that teasing and plaiting... The style had taken aeons to create, with the hairdresser cooing over what would be a wasted effort.
Elena pulled at a few of the sculpted curls. ‘It’ll take an hour to get rid of these pins!’
‘No time for that. I’ll squash the helmet over the top somehow. How much time have we spent already?’
Elena checked her watch. ‘We haven’t been long. Anyhow, they’re too busy drinking your father’s ouzo to care. Everyone’s going to think you’re spending ages to look beautiful for Christo. And once you leave they’ll have to go—which none of them want.’
It was the sad truth. Thea had no idea who most of the people at the wedding were. Business associates, she suspected. More deals and alliances being sealed over the carcass of her blighted union. Vultures, the lot of them. They were interested in the food, the alcohol, the spectacle.
‘I’ll never forget what you did for me. When it’s safe, I’ll try to let you know where...’
Thea swallowed the lump tightening her throat. There were few people she loved. Elena. Alexis. The thought of leaving them crushed her.
Elena waved her away. ‘I’m holding you to that. One day when we’re both grandmothers we’ll drink coffee together and laugh about today,’ she said, searching through a bag, then thrusting Thea an envelope. ‘Don’t forget this. Passport. Money. Bank details. It’s all there. Now, go! Be happy.’
Thea hesitated. She slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and rubbed the worn St Christopher medal on its fine chain, safely nestled there. Then she grabbed her padded gloves and secreted rucksack, moving to slip out of the door at the back of the room, which led to the alley where her motorcycle was hidden.
The door was usually kept locked, but she’d been able to charm the manager of the venue into leaving it unsecured for a fictional delivery. A surprise for the groom.
‘Wait!’ Elena squeaked.
Thea whipped around, her heart pounding with the electric spike of adrenalin. They’d been discovered?
All she saw was her friend, a slender shape framed by the light from the doorway behind.
‘What?’
‘Rings!’
How could she have forgotten her engagement ring? The dead weight of the baguette diamond. Huge. Impossible to miss. And her wedding ring wasn’t far behind, with its twinkling encrustation of pure white gemstones. Her husband’s mark. His claim.
Thea prised the pair of them from her finger and handed them to her friend. Now she was free.
Time to go.
‘And that is where this absurd charade ends.’
The deep, growling voice rumbled like thunder as a shadow loomed from a darkened alcove.
Christo.
Christo strolled over to a petite side table and turned on a lamp. The room shone with a soft glow. Such a pretty space, with delicate gilt furniture and swathes of brocade fabric draping the walls. Perfect for wedding preparations. Not so perfect for the curious machinations of the two wide-eyed females now frozen before him.
He’d been prepared to allow their odd scene to take its course. There was no chance of his sparkling new bride running away. One of his men stood waiting outside the door. She would have walked into a wall of immovable security.
He gritted his teeth. Breathed through the heat blistering his veins. The rings.
Holding out his hand, he nodded to the Drakos girl. She placed Thea’s bouquet on one of the fine chairs and dropped the glittering tokens into his palm. He curled them into his fist and they burned in his hand. Hundreds of thousands of euros in jewellery sat there, abandoned without care.
Christo slid them into the pocket of his trousers and addressed Thea’s bridesmaid. ‘Leave us.’ He kept his voice level and calm. His bride and his future were secure for now. Any further emotion was misdirected.
‘You can’t make me. I’m staying here.’
Such a brave statement. Christo smiled. He’d been told he looked wolf-like when he did, so he tried for a less predatory edge. Elena shuddered, and wilted a fraction. Ah, so he’d failed. Again.
He sighed, reaching into his pocket for his phone. Pressed speed dial. ‘Raul,’ he said evenly, ‘I need you. Miss Drakos would like to dance.’
He’d attend to Thea soon enough. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed her, standing straight. Stiff. Glancing at the door. Would she run or hold her ground? He suspected the former and hoped for the latter. Why? It was hard to say. He was used to women running when life didn’t meet their expectations. His mother had been the finest advocate of that coping strategy.
Raul, his appointed head of security and best man, arrived at the door. Elena was the maid of honour. She was required to dance with Raul at some point. Now was an opportune time as any.
‘Elena stays.’
The lady speaks. Although it was more like a hiss. Quiet. Serpentine. Curling a chill tight on his spine.
He ignored it. ‘Elena, you’ll dance with Raul now.’
Christo had little doubt she’d leave. His commands were invariably followed. Raul held out his hand. His prospective dance partner took it, removed her ridiculous hat, placed it on a chair and left the room with a tearful ‘Sorry...’ to Christo’s bride. Such a touching moment.
He turned his attention to Thea.
She didn’t wilt. She stood rigid. Head held high. So fierce and proud. Dressed in jeans and leather with exquisitely coiffed and braided hair. All contradiction—such a heady mix.
A tantalising buzz thrummed through him.
‘How long were you hiding there?’ she asked.
Christo would allow her some questions. He had a lifetime to get answers of his own.
‘Long enough.’
‘And you watched us dress?’
He shrugged. ‘There was nothing to see.’
She’d been half dressed already. Yet even in the darkened room Thea had blinded him. Her gentle curves. The slender waist. That crushing corset. An interesting foil for jeans and heavy boots... Everything about her had proved interesting tonight.
‘I didn’t realise my husband lurked. I would never have married you if I’d known. Lurkers can’t be trusted.’
He laughed. Such an unfamiliar thing it sounded
