sick feeling in her stomach. She must have made some kind of noise because they all turned and saw her.
She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed, the violence, and how her mother had just laid out her innermost feelings for all to see. Alexandros grabbed the paper out of her father’s hands. The anger and disgust on his face made her want to turn around and run away. She saw the livid red hand imprint on his cheek.
‘You—’
Her father cut him off. ‘Kouros, get out of this house. You are not welcome here, now or ever again.’
Alexandros turned away from Kallie and back to her father. ‘Believe me, I don’t want to see any of you again. Especially her.’ He flicked her a look that was so contemptuous that Kallie took a step back. And then he was leaving, walking away, out the door.
Acting on pure impulse, Kallie ran after him, ignoring her parents’ calls to come back. Alexandros’s long legs nearly had him at the gate that separated their neighbouring properties.
‘Wait, Alexandros…wait!’
He stopped so suddenly that she almost ran into his back. He turned and gripped her arms with hard hands, his face close to hers. And suddenly he didn’t even look angry any more, he looked sad. And that was even more confusing. Her head swam as she tried to understand what could have happened.
‘I thought we were friends, Kallie. Why did you do it? You’ve ruined everything…and all because I didn’t want you?’ He shook his head. ‘You were the one person who didn’t seem to expect anything from me. I trusted you and you set me up, blabbed everything.’
What was he talking about?
‘I don’t know what—’
He shook his head, cutting her off with a fierce look in his eyes, his lip curling in distaste. An image came back into his head of her reaching up to kiss him with a bold look in her eyes. One thing he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, was that he’d never really known Kallie Demarchis. Just like he’d never really known any of them. Kallie’s family had been like a second family to him and yet they could throw him out of their lives, their house. He’d been a fool to trust them. To think he’d thought her innocent, untainted…sweet!
‘These last two years you’ve really grown up, Kallie, haven’t you? Become just like the others. You heard about the engagement and thought you could have a go, too? Try to get in there?’
His face was so harsh that Kallie didn’t know how she still stood in front of him. And he wasn’t finished. ‘Seventeen is just a little too young for my tastes, though, and you don’t have what I need.’
He shoved the newspaper at her. ‘Oh, and next time you want to do a kiss and tell? If you’re trying to keep your identity a secret, it’s a good idea not to submit the copy from your own e-mail address. You’re nothing but a spoilt little bitch, Kallie, and not even a particularly bright one.’
She watched as he disappeared from view, her mouth open…words stuck in her throat. Her e-mail? Kiss and tell? As if in an awful sick nightmare, she looked at the paper which had fallen at her feet. It lay open on a very bad-quality, grainy black-and-white photo. As if taken with a camera phone. But one person was unmistakable. Alexandros. The golden boy of the shipping world. And the woman with her arms wrapped around his neck, straining against him, was most certainly not Pia Kyriapolous. The girl in the picture would be unidentifiable to any but those who knew her well, and was far too chubby to be the well-known model. A screaming headline. THE GROOM! THE NIGHT HIS ENGAGEMENT IS ANNOUNCED…!
Seven years later, The Ritz Hotel, Paris
ALEXANDROS KOUROS was bored. It was like a heavy mantle around his shoulders. A black cloud that spread outwards from his very depths, pervading everything. He was oblivious to the fact that he was surrounded by opulence. The opulence that came with being one of the wealthiest men in the world, in one of the world’s most exclusive hotels. Hushed whispers encircled him. He tuned them out, the superlatives bouncing off him. They’d surrounded him for years, but he’d never courted them, never needed any assurance.
So handsome…so young! The most successful shipping magnate since Onassis…Even more money…Most eligible bachelor…
Now the constant murmurs that followed him wherever he went only added to the ennui he felt. He’d achieved a pinnacle of success attained by just a very few, and only imagined by most. And it had been hard won, which should make it all the more sweet. But was this it? How could he be feeling like this when everything he’d ever worked for lay at his fingertips, when he could snap those fingers and influence the world’s economy with just a word, a command…And if this wasn’t what he wanted, then what the hell was? A distant memory, an old faded dream, reared its head. That had long turned to dust.
A touch on his arm, not gentle. It was predatory, possessive and brought his attention back to the room. To the woman at his side. She was considered one of the most beautiful, desirable women in the world…and she was the latest in a long line of similar women who had graced his arm, his bed.
‘Darling…’
He felt irritation prickle across his skin. Unfortunately, for the sake of politeness, he couldn’t remain oblivious to her. He turned to face her and smiled tightly, taking in the platinum blonde of her hair that suddenly looked too garish, too bright. Took in the heavily made-up face, the hard, avaricious glitter in her eyes. The diamonds flashing around her neck. Diamonds that he had bought with scant regard to their worth. He made a split-second decision, suddenly aware that he didn’t find her at all attractive any more. Had he ever?
Isabelle Zolanz didn’t know it yet, but she was on her way out. He felt relieved for the first time in weeks. The thrill of knowing he’d be free again already helped to diminish the crushing boredom. He didn’t want to spend another minute with her. In fact, he decided there and then that they would leave, he’d take her home, break it off now. His suit felt constrictive and he had to school his features into some semblance of neutrality.
Just as he was about to open his mouth and speak, to say some platitude, something flashed in the corner of his eye and he turned on a reflex to look. The room was packed, and in the doorway on the other side of the room stood a woman. She’d obviously just arrived, craning her neck looking for someone, standing on tiptoe. For a split second the noise in the room faded. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Goose-bumps broke out on his skin. The hubbub rushed back.
She was utterly captivating. But in a way that he couldn’t define, in a way that confounded him. Not model gorgeous. Not preened or buffed. But something about her caught his attention. She was only of average height but was perfectly proportioned, his expert eye assessing in seconds the way her curves dipped in and out in all the right places. A little more voluptuous than he’d normally go for but calling to him on some deep, primitive level. The simple black V-neck dress drew the eye to her waist and the slopes of her breasts. A pendant hung around her neck, the gem resting in her cleavage. It sparkled as the light hit it and he dimly recognised where the flash had come from.
Just as he also recognised with shock that he felt a compelling desire to walk over, take her hand and lead her back outside to see for himself if her skin was as soft and silky as it looked. The urge was so strong that he actually felt his feet shift, his whole body turn, as if to move in her direction. He wanted to touch the place where her gem rested. And he had to admit with sudden chagrin, as possessiveness was an alien emotion to him, that he wanted to lead her away from the other men who he could see already taking note of her arrival, too. She was like a breath of fresh air in a musty room.
She was pale. Her face had clear, clean lines, cheekbones clearly delineated, eyes wide apart and almond-shaped, making him want to see them up close, see their colour. Honey-streaked hair hung in loose waves over her shoulders and a heavy fringe, swept to one side, hid and alternately revealed tantalising glimpses