was in love with Oliver?
She was, wasn’t she?
But she didn’t want to love Oliver anymore. It had done nothing but hurt her. And now he was her brother-in-law, it felt slimy and wrong. She wanted to reach inside her soul and turn off her feelings like a light—
“You arranged the reception, too, didn’t you?” Stavros said, looking at the Christmas fantasy around them.
She forced herself to smile. “I wanted my sister to have a dream wedding. I did my best.”
Stavros abruptly turned to look at the happy couple, dancing now in front of the largest white-flocked tree, decorated with white lights and silver stars. He took a long drink of the amber-colored liquid he’d gotten from the open bar. “You are a good person.”
Again, the words should have been a compliment, but they weren’t. Not the way he said them. She tried to read his expression, but his darkly handsome face was inscrutable. She shook her head. “You must hate all this.”
“This?”
“Being best man at a wedding.” Holly shrugged. “You’re the most famously commitment-phobic bachelor in the city.”
He took another deliberate drink. “Let’s just say love is something I’ve never had the good fortune to experience.”
More irony, she thought. Then his black eyes burned through her, reminding her he knew about her secret love for Oliver. Her cheeks burned.
Looking toward the beautiful bride and handsome groom slow-dancing in the center of the ballroom, the very picture of fairy-tale love, she mumbled, “You’re right. They do make a perfect couple.”
“Stop it,” he said sharply, as if he was personally annoyed.
“Stop what?”
“Take off the rose-colored glasses.”
Her mouth dropped. “What?”
“You’d have to be stupid to love Oliver. And whatever you are, Miss Marlowe, you’re not stupid.”
The conversation had taken a strangely personal turn. Her heart pounded. But there seemed no point in trying to lie. She’d never dared to give voice to her feelings before. She whispered, “How did you guess?”
He rolled his eyes. “You wear your heart on your face.” He paused. “I’m sure Oliver knows exactly how you feel.”
Horror went through her. “Oh, no—he couldn’t possibly—”
“Of course he knows,” Stavros said brutally. “How else could he have taken advantage of you all these years?”
“Advantage?” Astonished, she looked up at him. “Of me?”
He looked down at her seriously. “I have ten thousand employees around the world. And from what everyone tells me, you’re the hardest working one.”
“Mr. Minos—”
“Call me Stavros,” he ordered.
“Stavros.” She blushed. “I’m sure that’s not true. I go home at six every night—”
“Yes, home to do Oliver’s paperwork. Never asking for a raise, even though you were paying for your sister to go to college. Which, by the way, she could have gotten a job and paid for herself.”
Her blush deepened in confusion. “I take care of my sister because—because she’s my responsibility. I take care of Oliver because, because,” she continued, faltering, “I’m his employee. At least I was…”
“And because you’re in love with him.”
“Yes,” she whispered, her heart in her throat.
“And now he’s impulsively married your sister, and instead of being angry—” he motioned at the winter wonderland around them “—you arranged all this.”
“Except for this dress.” She looked down ruefully at the tight red dress, wishing she was dressed in that modest burgundy gown she’d selected. “Nicole picked it out. She said my dress was the frumpiest thing she’d ever seen and she wasn’t going to let it ruin her wedding photographs.”
“They really do deserve each other, don’t they?” he murmured. Then he glanced down at her and growled, “You look beautiful in that dress.”
Another compliment that didn’t sound like a compliment. If anything, he sounded angry about it. His jaw was tight as he looked away.
Was he mocking her? She didn’t understand why he would tell her she was beautiful but sound almost furious about it. Her cheeks burned as she muttered, “Thanks.”
For a moment, the two of them stood apart from the crowd, watching as the bridal couple finished their dance with a long, flashy kiss. The guests applauded then went out to join them on the dance floor. Feeling awkward, Holly started to turn away.
Stavros stopped her, his dark eyes glittering as he said huskily, “Dance with me.”
“What? No.”
Broad-shouldered and powerful in his tuxedo, he towered over her like a dark shadow. Lifting a sardonic eyebrow, he just held out his hand, waiting.
What was he playing at? Stavros took starlets and models to his bed. Why would he be interested in dancing with a plain, ordinary girl like her? She looked up at him. His handsome face was arrogant, as untouchable and distant as a star.
“You don’t have to feel sorry for me,” she said stiffly.
“I don’t.”
“Or if you think it’s a requirement, because you’re best man and I’m maid of honor—”
“Do I strike you as a man who gives a damn about other people’s rules?” he asked, cutting her off. “I just want you to see the truth.”
“What’s that?” Half-mesmerized, she let him pull her into his powerful arms. Electricity crackled up her arm as she felt the heat of his palm against hers. She looked up at his face. His jawline was dark with five-o’clock shadow below razor-sharp cheekbones. There was a strange darkness in his black eyes, a vibrating tension from his muscular body beneath the well-cut tuxedo.
“You don’t love my cousin. You never did.”
She tried to pull away. “You have some nerve to—”
Holding her hand implacably in his own, he led her out onto the dance floor, where guests swayed to the slow romantic Christmas music of the orchestra.
She felt everyone looking at her. The women, with a mix of envy and bewilderment, the men, with interest, their eyes lingering on her uncomfortably low neckline.
Even Nicole and Oliver paused to gape at the sight of Stavros leading her out on the dance floor. Holly felt equally bewildered. Stavros could dance with anyone. Why would he choose her? Had he lost some kind of
