Greek Tycoon, Wayward Wife(25)

There was a murmur of surprise from the crowd, as if such an invitation was unheard of, but, as Libby finally found a direct eyeline to the low stage, she was almost too mesmerised to notice. Because all of a sudden she realised that her husband was the embodiment of the phrase ‘natural-born leader’. She’d never really thought of him that way before, but now he was up there he looked so commanding, so confident and so capable, that even she felt an instinctive need to follow him.

She silenced her inner floozy, which whispered, Yes, straight to bed. Because, whilst she couldn’t go on pretending that she wasn’t attracted to him, when had she ever been turned on by what boiled down to a display of power, arrogance and control? Since it was accompanied by a look which said he was willing to do anything for the good of these people, she supposed. But then looking that way was what politicians were best at, wasn’t it?

‘I didn’t realise you were coming,’ a voice behind her whispered, suddenly interrupting her thoughts. She turned to see a stylishly dressed young man, hand outstretched. ‘I’m Stephanos, one of Rion’s press officers.’

Libby shook his hand warily, wondering how on earth he knew who she was.

‘You were snapped together outside the theatre last night,’ he said, reading her puzzled expression. ‘It made the front page of the Metameikos Tribune this morning.’

Libby sighed. ‘Then I guess today is a good day for you.’

He raised his eyebrows towards the stage. ‘It has the potential to get even better. Come with me?’

For a ridiculous moment she wondered whether Rion had spotted her in the crowd and sent him down to get her. Until it occurred to her that not only was it unfeasible that he’d seen her, or had the chance to do anything about it, but that if he had he probably would have dispatched someone to send her home.

Stephanos had obviously just noticed her and recognised an opportunity to make use of her. And, although part of the reason why she was here was to protest against being used, the opportunity to defy Rion’s instructions and prove that his colleague clearly didn’t share his chauvinistic opinion that she should be ‘gracing the marital home’ was too tempting to resist.

She nodded. ‘Sure.’

Stephanos led her to the side of the crowd and along the edge of the room, whilst Rion launched into an explanation of his plans for a new hospital. His speech was flawless—or at least it was until they were a few metres away from the stage, when she heard him hesitate mid-sentence.

Libby knew instantly that their movements had caught his attention. She raised her head, and was met by a look of horrified disapproval which momentarily rooted her to the spot. But then, just as quickly, he looked away and continued speaking, his composure seemingly unaffected after all. Blinking to check she hadn’t imagined it, Libby saw that Stephanos had forged ahead and was beckoning for her to follow him up some discreet steps at the edge of the stage. Still dazed, she caught up with him at the top, where he quickly grabbed an extra chair out of nowhere, added it the semi-circle of people seated behind Rion, and signalled for her to join them.

As Rion began the second half of his speech he sensed her sit down behind him, and felt the tendrils of dread begin to snake around his heart. He’d worked so hard for this: the one remaining goal he was yet to fulfil. Now, thanks to his fixation on proving to her that he had become a success, that she was still as hot for him as he was for her, she was about to condemn him to failure. To lose him the one chance he had to put right everything that was still so wrong here. How foolish he’d been to suppose that two weeks of luxury and a shot at what she wanted would be enough to keep her mouth shut. Now he thought about it, it was obvious; of course she’d seize the opportunity to ruin him. The prospect of a man like him holding any position of power was bound to appall her.

Rion gritted his teeth, praying he could transmit a telepathic command to Stephanos to get her off the stage. Now. He understood why he’d brought her up here: since she’d turned up of her own accord it would avoid any negative speculation as to why she was in the crowd and not by his side. But what Stephanos didn’t realise was that they’d have more than just speculation to worry about if someone directed a question at her or if she decided to open her mouth.

But Rion, it seemed, was not capable of telepathy, because, whilst he could see Stephanos at the very edge of the stage, the only movement he was making was with his mouth, silently repeating Start the questions.

Reluctantly, Rion wrapped up his explanation of how the affordable housing scheme would work. ‘So now it’s over to you. Who has a question for me?’