To Catch A Bride. Renee Roszel
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The phone went dead. After several seconds of absorbing the dial tone, Kalli realized he’d hung up, evidently concluding the deal was made.
Her head swam and she felt dazed, but she supposed he was correct. She hadn’t said no. Planning the refurbishing of the Varos mansion would be good for both of them, really. Doing the job for him would help ease her angst over jilting him, not to mention it would double his property’s value. Besides, all that exacting work would keep her mind occupied, so she wouldn’t dwell on the empty hole in her heart left by her grandfather’s passing.
“Uh—okay,” she mumbled belatedly, lowering the receiver to its cradle. “I’ll see you in a week, Mr. Varos.”
She slumped there, staring at nothing for a long time. This had been a terrible, emotion-battering wedding day, full of grief and guilt. She’d acted like a mealymouthed double-crosser. Never in her life had she behaved so badly, and she was thoroughly ashamed. It seemed to go against nature that she should be rewarded by the very person she’d wronged.
At least, in her mind, she’d wronged him. To hear Mr. Varos’s voice, you’d think this was just another day in his life, filled with endless columns of credits and debits. To Nikolos Varos, being tossed over by Kalli Angelis was obviously nothing more than a huge yawn.
She shook herself and straightened. Right now she didn’t have the mental strength to be either puzzled or shocked by his indifference. She pushed off the bed and grabbed her suitcase. It was time to go home, comfort her mother and bid her beloved grandfather goodbye.
Kalli hurried from the hotel room, fighting a niggling unease.
Niko tugged the knit shirt on over his head and caught sight of himself in his office’s bathroom mirror. Now that he’d shucked the tux, he might be dressed more comfortably, but his expression didn’t exhibit any emotional comfort. He was so irate he was surprised smoke didn’t billow from his ears.
As he reentered his office Charles hung up his telephone and rose from his leather chair.
“When is she coming?”
Charles turned, his expression solemn. “Next week. I said someone would pick her up at the airport, as you instructed.” His perusal dropped to the desk and he began to straighten papers, clearly agitated. “How did you know she would accept, sir?” he asked, with a quick peek.
Niko stretched his shoulders, working to ease the tension in his muscles. “Greed, Charles. Greed and pride.” He ground his teeth. “You dangle the right bait and the fish will bite.”
Charles gathered up several file folders and hugged them to his suit front. “She thought I was you, sir.” The man turned stiffly to face his boss, his expression almost, but not quite, accusing. Niko mouthed a curse. Blast the tribulations of having a brutally scrupulous workforce. Even such a slight subterfuge, like not correcting an inaccurate assumption, grated on Charles’s sense of propriety. “You won’t do anything rash, sir?”
The man’s cautioning tone sent a rush of bitter resentment through Niko but he held his temper. “Of course not. I intend to plan my revenge very carefully.”
Though it didn’t seem possible, Charles’ pallor increased. “But—but, sir, you made the CEO of Megatronics cry. You can be—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He didn’t cry. He had an eye infection,” Niko snapped, his reserve corroding. “More to the point, the man was a fool. He wasted millions by breaking his word and not heeding my advice. I only made him see the error of his ways.” More to himself than to Charles, he muttered, “Miss Angelis will merely get some hands-on experience about how I deal with those who break their word to me.”
“Oh—dear…” A sparkle of sweat beaded on Charles’s forehead. His expression was so transparently fearful Niko experienced a twinge of compassion. His assistant was an excellent manager, but anything that smacked of ruthlessness made him queasy.
Pressing a hand on Charles’s shoulder, Niko squeezed. “Don’t look so worried. I’m not going to eat the woman alive.” He smiled, but it felt more like a baring of teeth. “I’m merely going to indulge my little ex with some—undivided attention.”
Charles winced, alerting Niko to the fact that his reassuring squeeze had became painful. He removed his hand. “Don’t you think she deserves a little discomfort?”
Charles’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he didn’t respond.
Niko would have appreciated a glimmer of empathy from his hired right arm, but he didn’t require it. He scanned the man shielding himself with a batch of files and scowled. “Maybe your attitude would be different if it was your face splashed all over the San Francisco press instead of mine,” he gritted out, “and you were the laughingstock.”
CHAPTER TWO
KALLI stepped off the plane in San Francisco, a week later, with no idea what to expect. That morning she’d called Mr. Varos’s office to let him know her schedule, but couldn’t get past some female receptionist, who assured huskily that the message would be passed to the proper department. So Kalli had no choice but to leave the flight information with a stranger on the phone.
She still had niggling doubts about accepting this job, doubts she could not squelch. Would she be left stranded in the airport as some kind of sadistic joke? She still couldn’t imagine Mr. Varos, or anyone else for that matter, really being as magnanimous as he’d seemed when he’d offered her the assignment.
She emerged from the long gangway, sidestepping fellow passengers who had come to abrupt halts to embrace friends and loved ones. Other plane-mates charged by her, cellular phones pasted to an ear as they dashed hell-bent down the cavernous corridor toward baggage claim, taxi cabs and business meetings.
The place was awash with humanity, whirring with activity and clamoring chatter. How was she supposed to find the right “someone” who’d been ordered to meet her? That is, if someone was meeting her, and this job offer wasn’t a mean-spirited hoax.
She found a place to pause beside a pillar where she’d be safely out of the way of frenzied travelers and beeping conveyance vehicles. Anxiety roiled in her belly as she scanned the ordered chaos, wondering how her escort would find her? Had he—or she—been shown the picture she’d sent to Mr. Varos before the wedding was arranged? Would he—or she—even show? The thought of coming all this way just to be left standing at the airport like a potted palm made her shudder.
“How did I get here—and why am I here, at all?” she muttered. Slipping the strap of her carry-on bag off her shoulder, she lay the case on the tile. For the thousandth time she went over the whole bizarre situation in her mind. First she’d rejected Mr. Varos. Then he’d called and offered her the opportunity to refurbish the mansion. When he’d hung up, she still hadn’t actually said she’d come. She remained torn most of the week, first thinking she couldn’t possibly agree, then deciding she couldn’t possibly refuse.
She’d even looked up old photographs of the Varos mansion, when it had been The Gladingstone House in its turn-of-the-century heyday. The estate had been gorgeous. She knew standing before the real thing would take her breath away. If she decided to return to San Francisco.
If? Getting this chance was like getting tapped for the Olympics.