Helen Bianchin - Greek's Pride

Fifteen minutes later she was seated in the luxurious BMW as it purred along the ocean-front road that led into the heart of Surfers Paradise.

‘Where are we dining?’ she asked.

‘The Sheraton-Mirage; it’s located on the Spit.’

‘Where anyone important is seen , no doubt.’ She hadn’t meant to sound cynical, and she suffered his swift analytical glance as a consequence.

‘Rachel fell in love with the resort complex when she and my father were here last year. It’s at her request that we’re dining there tonight.’

She should apologise, she knew, but the words refused to emerge, and she sat in silence until the car pulled to a halt at the entrance to a prestigious multi-storey apartment block overlooking the ocean.

At attendant slid in behind the wheel as Alyse followed Aleksi into the elegant foyer, and seconds later a lift transported them swiftly to an upper floor.

The apartment was much larger than she had expected, with magnificent views through floor-to-ceiling plate glass of the north and southern coastline. Pinpricks of light sparkled from a multitude of high-rise towers lining the coastal tourist strip, and beneath the velvet evening skyline the scene resembled a magical fairyland that stretched as far as the eye could see.

‘You look stunning, my dear,’ Rachel complimented Alyse quietly.

‘Yes, doesn’t she?’

Alyse heard Aleksi’s faintly mocking drawl, and opted to ignore it. ‘Thank you.’

‘Would you prefer to have a drink here, or wait until we’re at the complex?’

‘The complex, I think,’ Rachel concurred. ‘I’m sure Alyse will be as enchanted with it as I am.’

A correct deduction, Alyse decided on entering the wide lobby with its deep-piled blue carpets, cream marble tiles and exotic antiques. The central waterfall was spectacular, as was the tiled lagoon with its island bar.

‘We must come out during the day,’ Rachel declared with a smile. ‘The marina shopping complex directly across the road is delightful. We could explore it together, and share a coffee and chat.’

‘My wife adores to shop,’ Alexandros informed Alyse with a deep drawl not unlike that of his son.

They took a seat in the lounge-bar and Alyse declined anything alcoholic, aware of Aleksi’s faintly hooded appraisal as she voiced her preference for an order identical to his stepmother’s request for mineral water spiked with fresh orange juice.

‘My dear, don’t feel you must abstain simply because I choose to do so.’

‘I don’t drink,’ she revealed quietly. ‘Except for champagne on special occasions.’

‘Dom Perignon?’ queried Rachel with hopeful conspiracy, and Alyse smiled in silent acquiescence.

‘In that case, we’ll indulge you both at dinner,’ said Aleksi, giving the waiter their order, then he sat well back in his chair, looking infinitely relaxed and at ease.

Alyse would have given anything to be rid of the nervous tension that steadily created painful cramps in her stomach. It was madness to feel so intensely vulnerable; insane, to be so frighteningly aware of the man seated within touching distance.

The image of his kiss, so warm and infinitely evocative, rose up to taunt her, and she had to summon all her reserves of willpower to present a smiling, seemingly relaxed façade.

No matter what private aspirations Rachel and Alexandros held for their son’s marriage, it was apparent that the union afforded them tremendous pleasure. Equally obvious was an approval of their daughter-in-law, and Alyse experienced a feeling of deep regret—not only for Antonia’s loss, but for her own. If she could have selected ideal parents-in-law, it would be difficult to choose a nicer couple than Aleksi’s father and stepmother.

Such introspection was dangerous, and it was a relief when they entered the restaurant and were shown to their table.

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