The Wealthy Greek's Contract Wife(11)

‘I agree. However, where my friends and acquaintances are concerned the   marriage will obviously become a public reality, and for that reason I   think we should agree a suitable history of our relationship. I suggest   we say simply that we met when I was on business in England and that  our  relationship has progressed from there. I kept it and you under  wraps,  so to speak, until I decided that I wanted to marry you.'

‘Until we decided that we wanted to marry one another,' Lizzie corrected   him firmly, refusing to give way and break eye contact with him when  he  flashed her a look of arrogant disbelief that said quite plainly  that  in his book he made the decisions.

‘We shall soon be back in the city,' he continued, breaking the challenging silence. ‘Which hotel are you in?'

‘I had intended to stay in one of the apartments,' Lizzie was forced to admit.

‘You mean you haven't booked anywhere?' His tone was critical and   irritated, making Lizzie feel foolish and unprofessional. She had so   much else on her mind to worry about that she'd completely overlooked   the fact that she now didn't have anywhere to stay.

‘Like I said, I was expecting to stay in one of the apartments,' she   defended herself, telling him, ‘Just drop me off somewhere central and   I'll find somewhere.'

The last thing she wanted was for him to take her to some five-star hotel she couldn't afford.

Ilios fought back his irritation whilst mentally calculating the risk of   how likely it was that someone he knew would see Lizzie and remember   her later if he booked her into a hotel. He decided the odds were too   high for him to take. It wasn't that he particularly cared about the   fact that his wife-to-be wasn't wearing designer clothes, full makeup   and expensive jewellery, but local society liked to gossip, and he   didn't want anyone asking awkward questions.

They were travelling down a wide thoroughfare, passing a spectacularly   well-designed tall glass and marble building, but before she could   comment on it Ilios had turned into a side street and driven down a dark   ramp, activating a door in the black marble of a side wall that opened   to allow him to drive inside.

‘Where are we?' Lizzie asked uncertainly.

‘The Manos Construction building,' Manos told her. Under the   circumstances I think it will be best if you stay in my apartment. There   are certain formalities that will need to be dealt with-and quickly,  if  my cousin's suspicions are not to be alerted. Since you don't  already  have a hotel booking, it makes sense for you to stay with me.'                       
       
           



       

Stay with him? Lizzie's mouth had gone dry with tension and anxiety.

‘Nothing to say?'

‘What am I supposed to say? Thank you?' Lizzie's voice was filled with   despair, and her emotions overwhelmed her as she demanded, ‘Have you any   idea what it's like to be in my position? Not to know whether or not   you can pay your bills, or even where your next meal is going to come   from? Not having anyone to turn to who can help?'

‘Yes. I have known all those things and more-far more than you can ever imagine.'

His answer silenced Lizzie in mid-sentence, leaving her with her mouth half open.

Ilios hadn't intended to allow himself to speak about his most deeply   buried memories, but now that he had begun to do so he discovered that   it was impossible for him to stop. Emotions-anger, bitterness,   resentment-fought with one another to tell their story, bursting from   their imprisonment in a torrent of furiously savage words.

‘World War Two and everything that followed it destroyed our family   fortunes. What it didn't take the Junta did. I left home when I was   sixteen, intent on making my fortune as I had promised my grandfather I   would. Instead I ended up in Athens, begging from rich tourists. That   was how I learned to speak English. From there I got work on   construction sites, building hotels. That was how I learned to make   money.'

‘And you worked your way up until you owned your own business?'

‘In a manner of speaking. Only the way I worked myself up was via a   spell in prison and a few good hands of cards. I was falsely accused of   stealing materials from a site on which I was working. In prison I  found  that I could make money playing cards. I saved that money, and  then I  went back to the construction trade and started to put to use  what I'd  learned.'

He would make a very bad enemy, Lizzie decided, shivering a little as   she heard in his voice the implacability that had made him what he was.

What was happening to him? Ilios wondered. Why was he suddenly talking   about things he had vowed never to discuss with anyone? It must be   because he wanted to ensure that Lizzie Wareham didn't get away with   thinking that she was the only one to have had hardship in her life.   Satisfied with his answer, Ilios got out of the car and went round to   the passenger door to open it for Lizzie.

He looked immaculate, Lizzie noticed, whilst she felt sure that she must   look travel-creased and grubby. Whilst she smoothed her jeans, and  then  tried to do the same to her hair, Ilios went to the boot of the  car and  removed her case from it. Hastily Lizzie went to take it from  him, but  he shook his head, carrying it as easily as though it was a  sheaf of  papers. She had no need to wonder where his muscles came from.  All that  work on building sites, no doubt.

‘The lift's this way,' he told her, directing her towards a marble and   glass area several yards away. He activated it with a code he punched   into the lock, standing back to allow her to go into the lift first.

If he hadn't told her himself about his childhood she would never have   guessed, Lizzie acknowledged. He had the polished manners and   self-assurance she associated with someone born into comfortable   circumstances, not someone who had come up the hard way. But then his   background was obviously moneyed, in the sense that his family had   possessed it at one time. Had that made things harder for him? Set him   apart from those he'd worked with? Had he ever felt alienated and alone?

Lizzie tried to imagine how she would feel if she didn't have her   sisters, and then warned herself that sympathy was the last thing Ilios   Manos wanted. He was a man who stood alone because he wanted to stand   alone. He had as good as told her that himself.

The lift soared upwards at speed, flattening her stomach to her spine.   She'd never really liked lifts, and this one was all glass, on the   inside of the cathedral-like space of the building. Even though it was   now in darkness, it made her feel distinctly nervous.

The lift stopped swiftly and silently, its doors opening onto an   impressive rectangular hallway. The walls and floors were covered in   limestone, and concealed lighting illuminated the space, highlighting   the pair of matching limestone tables either side of a pair of double   doors, cleverly looking almost as though they had been carved out of the   wall instead of standing next to it. Two marble busts-one on either   table-were also illuminated by concealed lighting.

When he saw her looking at them, Ilios told her, ‘They are supposed to   have been brought back from Italy by Alexandros Manos at the same time   as he returned with copies of Palladio's plans for the villa. If you   know Villa Emo and anything of its history then you will know that the   Emo family were said to be of Greek descent-hence the classical Greek   appearance of the villa.'                       
       
           



       

‘As a trading port, Venice was something of a melting pot for various nations back then,' Lizzie agreed.

Ilios nodded his head, then opened the doors and waited for her to precede him.

A corridor lined with black marble on one side and mirrors on the other,   to expand the space, opened out into a large living area with   floor-to-ceiling glass walls virtually all along its length. Through   them Lizzie could see the night sky, studded with stars.

White sofas stood on a black-tiled floor, focussed on a modern fireplace   in the centre of the room. Picking up a remote control, Ilios pressed a   button and a wall of the black glass rectangular chimney surrounding   the fire slid back, to reveal a large television screen.

Everything in the room was state of the art and a future collector's   piece, Lizzie recognised. She could immediately put a name to the   prestigious interior design partnership that was responsible for the   interior, and even to the designer within that concern who had headed up   the team.