accomplished hostess, Antonia skilfully manoeuvred her guests into chairs, shuffling them so there were six on one side with five on the other, while she and Emerson took their position at the head of the table.
Oh hell. Thirteen at the dinner table on Friday the thirteenth. Could it get any worse?
Don’t tempt Fate by even thinking about it, a tiny voice taunted, only to discover she faced Nikos across a decorative floral centrepiece.
Emerson poured the wine while Antonia organised the serving of the first course.
‘Salute.’ Nikos’ accent was flawless as he lifted his glass, and although his smile encompassed everyone seated at the table, his eyes remained fixed on Michelle.
The soup was delicious vichyssoise, although after the first spoonful Michelle’s tastebuds seemed to go on strike.
Succulent prawns in a piquant sauce were served on a bed of mesclan lettuce, and she sipped the excellent white wine, then opted for chilled water in the need for a clear head.
The conversation encompassed a broad spectrum as it touched briefly on the state of the country’s financial budget, the possibility of tax reform and its effect on the economy.
‘What is your view, Michelle?’
The sound of that faintly accented drawl stirred her senses. Her hand paused midway in its passage from the table to her lips, and her fingers tightened fractionally on the goblet’s slim stem.
‘Inconsequential, I imagine. Given that whatever my opinion, it will have little effect in the scheme of things.’
Jeremy’s silent offer to refill Nikos’ glass was met with an equally silent refusal.
The fact that Nikos declined didn’t halt Jeremy’s inclination to fill his own glass.
‘Nevertheless, I would be interested to hear it.’
Having set the cat among the pigeons, it’s a source of amusement for you to watch the outcome, she surmised silently. But what if one of the pigeons was unafraid of the cat? Two could play this game.
‘As I recall, you were never particularly interested in my mind.’
His eyes held hers, mesmeric in their intensity. She watched as his lips parted to reveal even white teeth, and noticed the movement deepened the vertical slash on each cheek.
‘Could anyone blame me, pedhi mou?’
His drawled endearment curled round her nerve-ends and sent them spiralling out of control.
‘I’ll serve the main course.’
Michelle heard Antonia’s words, and watched absently as the hired help cleared plates and cutlery and replaced them.
‘Some more wine, Nikos?’
Emerson, ever the genial host, merely warranted the briefest glance. ‘Thank you, no.’ He returned his attention to Michelle. ‘I haven’t the need for further stimulation.’
This was getting out of hand. It was also gaining the interest of everyone seated at the table.
Chicken in a lemon sauce accompanied by a selection of braised vegetables did little to tempt Michelle’s flagging appetite, and she sampled a few mouthfuls of chicken, took a delicate bite of each vegetable, then set down her cutlery.
Water, not wine, was something she sipped at infrequent intervals as she wished fervently for the evening to end.
Yet there was dessert and the cheeseboard to complete the meal, followed by coffee. It would be at least another hour before she could make some excuse to leave.
Jeremy leaned towards her and placed an arm along the back of her chair.
‘Tell me, darling.’ His voice was a conspiratorial murmur. ‘Is he incredibly physical in bed?’
She didn’t deign to answer, and deliberately avoided glancing in Nikos’ direction as she conversed with the guest seated next to her. Afterwards she had little recollection of the topic or her contribution.
Dessert was an exotic creation of baklava, together with fresh fruit and brandied cream.
Michelle passed on both, and selected a few grapes to freshen her palate.
‘Shall we adjourn to the lounge for coffee?’ Antonia queried when it appeared everyone had had their fill.
They were the sweetest words Michelle had heard in hours, and she subdued her enthusiasm as she stood to her feet and joined her parents.
Chantelle Gerard cast her daughter a thoughtful glance. ‘I had no idea you knew Nikos Alessandros.’
Money was important. Breeding, equally so. The Bateson-Burrows possessed both. But the Alessandros’ fortune couldn’t be ignored.
Michelle could almost see the wheels turning in her mother’s brain. ‘I intend leaving very soon.’
‘You’re going on somewhere with Jeremy, darling? ’
‘No.’
‘I see,’ Chantelle voiced sagely. ‘We’ll talk in the morning.’
‘Believe me, Maman, there is absolutely nothing to tell,’ Michelle assured with an edge of mockery, watching as her mother lifted one eyebrow in silent chastisement. ‘Nothing,’ she added quietly.
Twenty questions at dawn wasn’t her favoured way to begin the day. However, Chantelle was well-practised in the art of subtle manipulation, and Michelle was able to interpret every nuance in her mother’s voice.
‘We can easily give you a lift home if you’re prepared to wait awhile.’
She should have brought her own car. Except Jeremy had insisted he collect her. Not a wise move, she decided wryly in retrospect.
The mild headache she’d thought to invent was no longer a figment of her imagination. And Jeremy was fast becoming a nuisance. Her apartment was less than a kilometre away, a distance she’d entertain no qualms in walking during the day. However, the night hours provided a totally different context for a woman alone.
‘I’ll call a taxi.’
Antonia offered a superb blend of coffee, together with liqueur, cream, milk, exotic bite-sized continental biscuits and a variety of Belgian chocolates.
Michelle added milk and sugar, and sipped it as quickly as etiquette allowed. Placing her cup and saucer down onto a nearby side-table, she turned towards her hosts, and her stomach executed a slow somersault as she discovered Antonia and Emerson deep in conversation with Nikos Alessandros.
Just pin a smile on your face, thank them for a pleasant evening, and then exit the room. Two or three minutes, five at the most.
Almost as if he sensed her hesitation, Nikos lifted his head and watched her approach.
Jeremy appeared at her side and
