Elene nodded energetically. "Everybody in Athens knows of it, and you're right, it is a very chic, sophisticated affair. I have had a steady stream of clients coming here, hoping to find just the right gown. Please slip into a kimono, make yourself comfortable, and enjoy a glass of champagne while I bring out a few items for your consideration."
Some forty minutes later, Brianna climbed into a taxi, loaded down with an assortment of gorgeous items tenderly wrapped in tissue paper and secured with ribbon in shiny black shopping bags and boxes bearing the boutique's discreet silver logo. She had her evening gown, her garden party outfit, a pair of satin dancing shoes, two other dinner dresses she hadn't been able to resist, and a selection of delicious lingerie lavishly trimmed in French lace.
Dimitrios showed up at the clinic soon after she returned. For an hour or more, they played with Poppy, helping her assemble the brightly colored plastic inter-locking building blocks Brianna had found in the toy shop.
After her evening meal, they followed the usual bedtime story ritual. Not until she was asleep for the night did they leave, a heartrending experience that never grew any easier, no matter how often they did it. She was so little, so helpless, so trusting, with no idea of the ordeal awaiting her if the transplant went ahead. And if it didn't, if Brianna turned out not to be a suitable donor … well, that just didn't bear thinking about.
"The day I walk out of this place with Poppy in my arms, we're going to celebrate for a week," Dimitrios vowed, with a last, anguished glance at his daughter's sweet face.
"It's going to happen," Brianna promised, sharing his pain. "And I'll be right there beside you when it does."
He gripped her hand so tightly she winced. "I'm counting on it, sweetheart, more than you can begin to know."
They collected her purchases from the lobby where she'd left them and headed out to the car. "I take it you found what you were looking for," he observed dryly, loading the bags and boxes into the trunk and making an obvious effort to shake off his black mood. "As a matter of interest, did you leave any merchandise for the next customer, or have you bought out the entire shop?"
"I bought what I deemed to be necessary. I'll leave you to decide if I made the right choices."
"Heaven help me, I'm marrying a clothes horse," he moaned.
"Yes, you are," she said cheerfully. "But you knew that when you asked me to be your wife."
That night, he took her for dinner to the Rafina Yacht Club where his fourteen-meter sloop was moored, and the first part of the evening was nothing less than idyllic. They sat at a table by the window and sipped champagne by candlelight. Outside, the moon carved a rippled path over the water and tipped the tall masts of the sailboats with silver.
Brianna wore one of her new outfits, a deep-purple knit cotton dress cut along straight, simple lines. She accessorized it with silver stud earrings, a narrow silver bracelet, her heeled black sandals and a black clutch purse. Dimitrios, as always, was immaculate in dove-gray Armani trousers, white shirt and navy blazer.
"I'll take you sailing one of these days, when things settle down a bit," he promised. "As they presently stand, though, I'd just as soon be on dry land and able to get to the clinic in a hurry if I need to."
"Yes, of course," she said. "I understand perfectly."
"We'll have a good life, Brianna. You won't regret marrying me."
And that was when the evening fell apart. An older couple, passing by on their way to join a large party at the next table, recognized his voice and stopped. "Dimitrios?" the woman said.
In less time than it took to blink, all the warmth and animation in his face drained away. "Hermione," he returned stiffly, half-rising to his feet in a reluctant show of courtesy. "Mihalis," he added, acknowledging the man with a nod so brief, he might as well not have bothered.
"Yios." The man's eyes, black as coal but with none of its inherent propensity for warmth, skimmed over Brianna. Switching to heavily accented English, he said, "Did I just hear you say you're getting married again?"
"That's right."
"And this is your future wife?"
"Right again."
"So history repeats itself, right down to an exact replica of the original bride. We had heard Cecily's twin was in town and now we know why. Let's hope you don't drive her to an early grave, as well."
Dimitrios grew so forbiddingly still, he might have been turned to stone. The woman, Hermione, however, let out a shocked, "Mihalis!"
Mihalis silenced her with a quelling glare and turned a cheerless smile on Brianna. "Our deepest sympathies, my dear, and all the luck in the world. I'm afraid you're going to need it." Then, overriding his companion's visible distress, he led her away.
Unmoving, Dimitrios watched them leave, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes stormy, his face the color of old parchment except for two faint strips of color riding his high cheekbones, and his entire body vibrating with rage.
"Dimitrios," Brianna whispered urgently, "who were those people?"
Very slowly he uncurled his fingers, expelled a long breath and resumed his seat. He raised his eyes to hers.
"My parents," he said.
Chapter 8
He'd shocked her, as he'd known he would. Her lovely mouth fell open before she could bring it under control and press it closed again. "Your parents? Dimitrios, you told me they were dead!"
"No," he said. "I told you I have no family but Poppy, and nor do I."
She shook her head. "I don't understand. You just said that man is your father."
"A biological error on his part, I'm sure."
"He spoke as if he hates you!"
"That's because he does."
"But if he's your father! And what about your poor mother … ?" Eyes clouded with dismay, she fumbled for her water glass. "I thought she was going to burst into tears."
"But she didn't," he said. "She behaved exactly as she's always behaved around him. Like a downtrodden wife with no right to her own opinions or feelings. I can only suppose she enjoys being molded to the underside of his heel. Eat your fish, Brianna. It's growing cold."
She pushed her plate aside, the grilled red mullet barely touched. "I've just lost my appetite."
"Would you like to order something else? Dessert, perhaps? They make a wonderful almond brandy cake here."
"No. I'd like you to explain what just happened."
"I'd have thought that was self-evident."
"Stop stonewalling, Dimitrios," she snapped, displaying exactly the kind of fire and spirit his mother had never dared fling at his father. "I'm not some stranger poking my nose in where it doesn't belong, I'm the woman you say you want as your wife, and if that's the case, I deserve to know what I'm letting myself in for."
She was right, of course. An explanation wasn't just in order, it was overdue, and better she hear it from him than someone else. "Endaxi. Okay." Abandoning his own meal-he'd lost his taste for his grilled octopus, too. His father tended to have that effect on people-he said, "How about coffee and brandy first?"
"Coffee would be nice, but I'll pass on the brandy. You go ahead, though."
He waited until they'd been served, and rolled a mouthful of the very excellent Metaxa Golden Reserve over his palate to erase the lingering aftereffects of his father. "So what would you like to know?"
"Everything," she said promptly.
"Well, you're already aware, of course, that I'm filthy rich."
"Not that it matters to me one way or the other," she said dryly, "but yes, I have noticed."
"So has Mihalis. And that's the problem."
"He didn't look to me as if he's suffering any. The diamond in his pinky ring just about blinded me."
"Ah, but what galls him is that if my tastes also ran to gaudy, ostentatious jewelry, I could afford a bigger, better, flashier diamond than his."
Again she shook her head. "I'm not following you, Dimitrios. This isn't about jewelry, so why don't you start at the beginning and tell me what's really going on?"
"All right. My father made his first million when he was twenty-one. By the time I was born, eight years later, he'd increased that amount ten times over, and I grew up watching him wield his assets like a weapon to control everyone around him. I saw my mother change from a vivacious, beautiful woman to a passive, listless creature unable to decide what color shoes to wear, without consulting him first. I grew to despise him and pity her, and I'm not sure which I found more distasteful."