The Giannakis Bride(11)

"We hadn't known each other long enough to develop any trust."

"Perhaps not, but if we'd really been as deeply in love as we thought we  were, I'd have fought for you anyway and hoped like hell I wouldn't  live to regret it. But I didn't. I let you go."

Again she glanced aside. "I'm to blame, as well. I ran away because it  was easier than facing what I thought was the truth. I should have known  better. I just never dreamed Cecily could be so … so destructive."

"Because you didn't really know her as well as you thought. Nobody did.  All we ever learned was what she allowed us to see. She was like an  iceberg, with seven-eighths, the most treacherous part, hidden."

"Hindsight's a wonderful thing, isn't it?" she said miserably.

His cell phone interrupted, sparing his having to comment. Just as well.  He might have said something he'd live to regret. "Me sing khorite," he  murmured, noticing the name showing on the display screen. "Excuse me. I  have to take this call."

She nodded and, rising from her chair with her trademark grace, wandered  over to examine the flowers growing near the fountain. "What?" he  barked into the phone, royally ticked off with himself for not being  able to tear his glance away from her long, elegant legs and slender  hips.

"Where the devil are you?" Pavlos, his PA, shot back. "The meeting's due to start in ten minutes."

"What meeting?"

"The one slated to make you another cool two million euros or more,  provided, of course, you're still interested. The one which has the  consortium from Shanghai cooling its heels in the executive lounge and  wondering if you really exist or are just a figment of an overactive  Greek imagination. Need I go on?"                       
       
           



       

"Skata, Pavlos," he muttered. "I forgot all about it."

"Not surprising, I guess, all things considered. You've got a lot on your mind right now."

"More than you can begin to guess," he groaned. "Keep the visitors  occupied with the video presentation until I can get there, will you?  I'm still in Kifissia, but I'll be there as soon as I can. Traffic's  building, so I'll leave my car here and take the Metro. I should be  there within forty minutes."

Seeing he'd ended the call, Brianna returned to the table. "Everything all right?"

"Ohi. I have to go, but you stay and enjoy the rest of your meal and the  wine. I'll take care of the bill on my way out. If you're up to  exploring a bit more, you might want to browse the boutiques farther  down the road." He pressed his phone into her hand. "You know how to use  one of these. Spiros is on speed dial. When you're ready to leave, give  him a call and let him know where to pick you up."

She caught his sleeve as he went to turn away. "Just a minute-"

"I don't have a minute, Brianna," he interrupted, making no effort to  curb his impatience. "I know we were in the middle of something, but  it'll have to keep until another time because I need to leave. Now."

"Just tell me before you go. Is it Poppy? Has something happened?  Because if it has and you're headed back to the clinic, I'm coming with  you."

He'd have had to be pretty jaded not to recognize the concern in her  eyes and voice. Feeling low as dirt for snapping at her without cause,  he squeezed her hand and said more gently, "It's not Poppy. It's  business. But thanks for caring. Look, I'll see you later, okay, and  we'll pick up where we left off. Meanwhile, try to enjoy what's left of  the afternoon."

She watched him walk away, six feet plus of utter competence and  self-assurance. Never a wasted word or motion. Never an awkward pause as  he fumbled for just the right word. Never a clumsy move.

She, however, was a mess. She'd been on an emotional roller coaster for  the better part of three hours. And the last sixty minutes had, in some  ways, been the most shocking.

She'd known for a long time that Cecily envied her; that what she  herself saw as an equal partnership between sisters had, in Cecily's  mind, become a competition between rivals, one that recognized no  boundaries between their professional and personal lives. But that she'd  go to such extremes, that she'd deliberately sabotage her sister's  budding love affair … ?

On the other hand, was it really so surprising? Casting her mind back,  Brianna recalled a number of occasions during the last few months they'd  shared an apartment, when she'd been singled out for special  assignments which hadn't included her sister, but she'd missed them  because Cecily either "accidentally" erased voice mail messages, or  conveniently "forgot" to pass them on.

"She's spiraling into self-destruction, and she'll take you down with  her if you're not careful," Carter had raged, after one particularly  unfortunate incident. "Do yourself a favor and get set up in your own  place before she succeeds."

But Brianna hadn't believed him. Hadn't wanted to believe him. "We might  have our differences, but at bottom, we love each other," she'd  insisted. "Cecily would never deliberately hurt me."

Now, when it was too late, she knew differently. What had begun as a  slow, almost imperceptible erosion of her relationship with her sister  had degenerated into outright betrayal during that cruise through the  Greek islands. Yet it could all have turned out so differently if only,  as Dimitrios had so astutely pointed out, they'd trusted each other.  Instead they'd been too dazzled with stardust to see the danger lurking  on the sidelines and guard themselves against it.

And yet it had been there all along, if only she'd recognized the signs.  That first night, as the yacht set sail from the mainland and headed  south to the island of Crete, their hosts had thrown an extravagant  cocktail party. There were thirty-six guests gathered on deck, at least  twenty-five of whom, including her and Cecily, were either famous faces  or famous names on both sides of the Atlantic. The remaining eleven were  a blend of wealthy sophisticates and corporate power moguls.                       
       
           



       

Of the latter, the most influential by far was the cultured Dimitrios  Giannakis, whose empire, one of the group she and Cecily were with  confided, ran the gamut from charter airlines to oil to real estate.

"Is he married?" Cecily had inquired, almost tripping over her own feet in her eagerness to catch a closer glimpse.

"No," the man replied on a well-bred snort of laughter. "But trust me, it's not for want of offers."

Perhaps if she herself hadn't fallen so completely under his spell,  Brianna might have paid closer attention to Cecily's growing displeasure  at being overlooked by the man who was undoubtedly the most eligible  bachelor in Europe.

Swamped with regret for what might have been, Brianna pushed aside the  remains of her lunch. She and Dimitrios had started out with such  dreams. Found such bliss together, albeit for too short a time. Why  hadn't they gone the extra distance and believed in each other?

Instead they'd fallen victim to one of the oldest games in the book: the  fury of a woman scorned. Cecily had got what she'd been after from the  start, and Brianna had lost a sister in the process. She'd never seen  Cecily again, except for the occasional photograph plastered on the  front page of some tabloid or other on display in the supermarket:  "Former supermodel Cecily Connelly, wife of Greek billionaire Dimitrios  Giannakis, at a party in Cannes … hobnobbing with the jet set in Monte  Carlo … skiing in the Swiss Alps."

Cecily was always dazzling the camera with her famous smile. There was  never any mention of a child. And a grim-faced Dimitrios, if he was  there at all, invariably remained at arm's length from all the hoop-la.

Brianna never bought the tabloid. She never read the article. She turned  away, even so small a reminder of what had been stolen from her, enough  to darken her day.





Chapter 5





Wallowing in remorse for things it was much too late to change, left  Brianna too unsettled to endure the rest of the afternoon under Erika's  hostile surveillance. She needed to be around people who didn't regard  her as a necessary evil; with strangers who'd judge her on her own  merits. So she took Dimitrios's advice and explored the streets of  Kifissia.

The boutiques were lovely. If she'd been in a more frivolous mood, she  could have spent a small fortune on exquisite clothes. One ensemble in  particular caught her eye. A voile dress printed with pale, overblown  roses in shades of pink and mauve on an ivory background, it floated  over the back of an antique chair set on a circular dais in the showroom  window. The hem of its voluminous skirt fell in graceful folds to where  a matching hat with a wide brim lay on the silver-gray carpet, next to a  pair of exquisite ivory silk pumps.