Helen Bianchin - Greek's Pride

‘We have an eleven o’clock appointment with the register office on Thursday, followed by a consultation with Hugh Mannering at two, and at three we’re due to present ourselves at the Family Services Department. On Friday we catch the late morning flight en route to the Coast,’ he informed her cynically.

The enormity of what she was about to undertake seemed to assume gigantic proportions, and she suffered his raking scrutiny with unblinking solemnity.

‘This is no time for second thoughts,’ Aleksi stated in a voice that was silky-smooth and infinitely dangerous. ‘The reason for a marriage between us is obvious,’ he declared hardily, ‘and will be accepted as such.’

‘Am I supposed to get down on my knees and kiss your feet in sheer gratitude for the privilege?’ Her voice dripped ice, and she saw his blue-grey eyes assume a chilling ruthlessness.

‘Careful,’ he warned dangerously. ‘I insist we present a veneer of politeness in the company of others.’ He directed her a swift calculated appraisal that sent shivers of fear scudding the length of her spine. ‘In private you can fight me as much as you like.’

‘In private,’ she conceded with ill-concealed fury, ‘I shall probably render you grievous bodily harm!’

‘Don’t expect me not to retaliate,’ he drawled.

‘Do that, and I’ll have you up for assault!’

His eyes narrowed and assumed the hue of a dark storm-tossed sea. ‘I wasn’t aware I alluded to physical abuse.’

Her eyes widened into huge pools of incredulity as comprehension dawned, and she fought valiantly against an all-encompassing anger. ‘Abuse is still an ugly word, whether it be mental or physical,’ she said tightly.

‘Then perhaps you would be advised to keep a rein on your temper.’

‘I must have been mad to agree to any alliance with you!’ she declared bitterly, sure she’d become a victim of temporary insanity.

‘Georg is the crux,’ Aleksi remarked cynically, and she cried out in vengeful disavowal,

‘I don’t have much choice, damn you!’

‘I offered you the opportunity of assuming the role of Georg’s mother.’

‘The only problem is that you form part of the package!’

‘Oh, it mightn’t be too bad.’ His smile was totally lacking in humour. ‘I live in a beautiful home—a showcase to display my expertise within the building industry. I enjoy the company of a close circle of friends, and frequently entertain. The Gold Coast is far from dull. I’m sure you’ll manage to amuse yourself.’

‘When do you intend informing your parents of our impending marriage?’ asked Alyse.

‘I already have,’ he drawled with hateful cynicism. ‘They’re delighted that we’ve chosen such a sensible solution.’

‘Are your parents visiting for very long?’

‘Question-and-answer time, Alyse? Or simply sheer curiosity?’

An angry flush crept over her cheeks, and her eyes sparked with brilliant blue fire. ‘I imagined it was a legitimate query.’ If they’d been alone, she would have thrown the contents of her glass in his face. ‘Perhaps I should opt for silence.’

‘Apparent subservience?’ he queried sardonically. ‘Somehow I can’t perceive you acquiring that particular mantle.’

‘No,’ Alyse agreed coolly out of deference to the waiter, who deftly removed their plates and busied himself serving the main course.

The grilled fish with hollandaise sauce and accompanying assortment of vegetables was assembled with artistic flair and infinitely tempting to the most discerning palate. Yet she was so incredibly angry she was hard pressed to do the course the justice it deserved. Afterwards she declined dessert and the cheeseboard, and simply opted for coffee, noting with silent rage that Aleksi Stefanos’s appetite appeared totally unaffected.

‘Perhaps you could bring yourself to tell me what progress you have made?’ he suggested.

Alyse met his gaze with fearless disregard. ‘Everything is taken care of—the boutique, leasing the house. All that remains for me to do is pack .’

‘And shop for a wedding dress,’ he added with hateful ease, one eyebrow slanting with a degree of mocking humour, and a diabolical imp prompted her to query,

‘Traditional white?’ Her own eyebrow matched his in a deliberate arch.

‘Do you have any objection?’

You’re darned right I have! she felt like screaming. ‘Surely a civil ceremony doesn’t warrant such extravagance?’

‘Humour me.’

‘The hell I will! A classic-designed suit is adequate.’ She paused, her eyes wide and startlingly direct. ‘In black, or red. Something that makes a definite statement.’

He leaned further back in his chair, his posture portraying indolent ease. Yet there was a degree of tightly coiled strength apparent, and a prickle of apprehension feathered the surface of her skin.

‘Flamboyant reluctance?’ Aleksi queried with deceptive mildness. ‘You choose to be recorded for posterity in a manner that will doubtless raise questions from our son, ten—fifteen years from now?’

Her lips parted to say that ten years down the track she would no longer be his wife. In fact, the requisite two would be two too many! Except that no sound escaped as she snapped her mouth firmly closed. ‘I’ll agree to a cream linen suit, matching accessories and a floral bouquet,’ she told him.

‘Adequate,’ he drawled. ‘But not precisely what I had in mind.’

‘Well, isn’t that just too damned bad?’ Alyse snapped with scant attempt at politeness. ‘Perhaps you’ve decided to compound the farce with formal tails and an elegant striped silk cravat?’

‘Are you usually so quarrelsome, or is your behaviour merely an attempt to oppose me?’

Her eyes flashed pure crystalline sapphire. ‘Oh, both. I’m no timid little dove.’

A lazy smile broadened the generous curve of his mouth. ‘Even the wildest bird can be trained to enjoy captivity.’

A surge of anger rose to the surface, bringing a tinge of pink to her cheeks and sharpening her features. ‘That’s precisely the type of sexist remark I’d expect you to make!’ She looked at him with increasing hostility. ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, I’d like to leave.’

‘So early, Alyse?’ he mocked as he signalled the waiter to bring their bill. ‘You’ve no desire to go on to a nightclub?’

‘What would be the point? We’re at daggers drawn now!’ She tempered the remark with a totally false smile that almost felled the waiter, but didn’t fool Aleksi in the slightest.

‘We’ll doubtless shatter every romantic illusion your babysitter possesses if I return you before the witching hour of midnight,’ he remarked.

‘As there’s nothing in the least romantic about our alliance, it hardly matters, does it?’ She stood to her feet and preceded him from the restaurant, uncaring that he followed close behind.

In the car she sat in silence, conscious of the faint swish of tyres on the wet bitumen. There was movement everywhere, people walking, colourful flashes of neon as the large vehicle purred through the city streets, and she became fascinated by the reflection caught in the still waters of the Swan River as they headed west towards Peppermint Grove.

‘I’ll arrange for a chauffeured limousine to collect you at ten-thirty on Thursday morning,’ Aleksi declared as he brought the car to a halt in her driveway. ‘You have the phone number of my hotel if you need to contact me.’

Polite, distant, and totally businesslike. It was almost as if he was deliberately playing an extremely shrewd game with every single manoeuvre carefully planned, Alyse brooded, aware of a chill shiver that owed nothing to the cool midwinter temperature.