would be highlighted in order to touch the guests’ hearts and persuade them to give generously.
Alesha chose a black bandage-design gown that hugged her slender curves and showcased delicate-textured skin. She confined jewellery to a slender gold necklace with matching ear-studs and bracelet, and black killer heels completed the outfit.
Minimum make-up, with emphasis on her eyes, she opted to leave her hair loose in a soft feminine style.
The event drew a pleasing number of guests, and she stood at Loukas’ side sipping champagne, acutely aware of his close proximity.
He portrayed the man he was … sophisticated, urbane, highly intelligent, successful. And he wore the verbal labels with ease, comfortable in his own skin with little, if anything, to prove.
And he was hers.
Well, not in the truest sense … yet. She bore his name, wore his ring, and she … liked him.
Admit it, you find him stunningly attractive. Sexy … incredibly sexy, she amended. And there was a part of her that craved the intimacy she instinctively rejected.
So why did she feel as if she were treading eggshells, aware she consciously watched everything she said, every action, in case it was misconstrued.
At work, home, and on social occasions such as this when she played the part of recently married happy wife.
A young woman who, by all accounts, should be ecstatic to be bedding one of the most eligible men on planet earth.
‘Penny for them?’
She tilted her head and gifted him a teasing smile. ‘Not for sharing, at any price.’
Loukas’ mouth curved a little, and the hand resting at the base of her spine brushed a light trail up her back to linger at the lower edge of her nape.
Sensation spiralled through her body, and it took conscious effort to hold his dark gaze.
Dear heaven, she was almost flirting with him … for real. Not the best idea, given the tenuous quality of their relationship.
Yet it was fun, almost safe. Although was it? If you played with fire, you tended to get burnt.
So chill, and don’t risk conflagration.
Their table was well placed, the company stimulating, and the food delectable.
The speeches held a poignancy that speared her heart, and her eyes clouded … for she could envisage so much more than the mere words conveyed. At one point her fingers tightened into a fist, and her lacquered nails dug into her palm. No one should be a victim of abuse … dear heaven, especially never a child.
Almost as if he sensed her torment, Loukas placed his hand over hers until she released her grip. His silent presence and strength comforted her and she gave him a tentative smile and returned his hold on her hand, suddenly glad he was there with her this evening.
The entertainment for the night comprised a designer fashion showing, with elegant models parading the catwalk, followed by an auction of the garments with a generous percentage gifted to the charity.
It lightened the evening, with the auctioneer really getting into the swing of it, encouraging bidders to raise the stakes.
One gown caught Alesha’s interest, a deep red silk with spaghetti straps attached to a beautiful ruched bodice and a soft floor-length tiered skirt.
Loukas indicated his bid, and escalated it by increments until it reached an exorbitant amount and the one remaining bidder pulled out.
Alesha leaned towards him and said in a subdued but scandalized voice, ‘Are you crazy?’
‘It’s a worthy cause.’ His voice held a teasing indolence as he brushed his lips to her temple. ‘And the gown is perfect for you.’
Oh, my. For an instant the room and everyone in it faded into nothing as his eyes locked with her own, and something violently sweet coursed through her body.
His mouth curved into an easy smile, almost as if he knew.
‘Thanks.’ On impulse she pressed her lips to his cheek … at least that was her intention, except he moved and her mouth met his own, and a light kiss became something else as he savoured her briefly before lifting his head.
Colour filled her cheeks, and he trailed light fingers over the soft heat, then skimmed over one shoulder to rest at the edge of her waist.
‘Dear Alesha,’ a light feminine voice intruded. ‘So nice to see you happy in your new marriage.’
Recovery was swift as she summoned a smile and turned towards the woman who’d stopped by to offer congratulations, only to have her heart sink.
Nicolette de Silva had a reputation for lacking tact. Even the kindest amongst her coterie of friends admitted Nicolette didn’t think before she opened her mouth.
‘Her brief liaison with that terrible man was a disaster,’ Nicolette confided to Loukas. ‘But then, of course, you know about that?’
‘Naturally.’ His voice was smooth as silk. Sufficiently so that most people would immediately cease pursuing the subject and move on.
‘There were rumours, some of them extreme.’ Nicolette offered a conciliatory smile. ‘I believe Seth Armitage tried to sell his side of the story to the media, but nothing came of it, isn’t that right, Alesha?’
Alesha’s fingers clenched beneath the cover of the tablecloth, and she tensed as Loukas again took her hand in his and traced soothing fingers across the pulsing veins at her wrist.
Support? Whatever, it felt … pleasant, comforting.
A double whammy, she admitted silently as the action increased her pulse-beat and made her increasingly aware of him.
She tried to tell herself she was immune to gossip. Three years on she’d heard it all … first and second-hand. The inquisitive comments she chose not to concede or deny. The false expressions of sympathy. Each a quest for information she refused to give.
‘There’s no point in rehashing old history,’ she managed quietly. ‘Don’t you agree?’
Nicolette looked momentarily distraught. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
The weird thing was she meant it.
‘Apology accepted.’
‘Please do enjoy the rest of the evening.’
‘We shall.’
‘Red will look stunning on you.’
‘Thank you.’ Inherent poise enabled her to conduct a perfectly sincere conversation with one of the women sharing the table. ‘It’s a gorgeous gown.’
‘Everyone bid. The fundraiser has proven to be an enormous success.’
‘Yes, it has.’
‘My
