cameras and remember they stood in a church where nearly a thousand people watched. Instantly the trembling heat evaporated. Despite the blazing white August sun outside, she felt suddenly chilled.
“Goodness!” Pandora’s eyes stretched wide as she stared at the noisy wall of paparazzi surrounding the bridal car as they turned into Zac’s estate in Kifissia, the exclusive area north of Athens where the reception was being held.
“Overwhelming?” A flash of white teeth and a wicked grin lit up Zac’s darkly tanned face. “A three-ring circus?”
“Yes.” Pandora leaned back, trying to hide from the intrusive camera lenses. From the minute she’d stepped off the plane the paparazzi had been waiting to mob her. But Zac and his bodyguards had kept the hungry horde at a distance. Pandora supposed she should have anticipated the furious speculation the wedding between Zac Kyriakos and a reclusive heiress had roused. The great-grandson of a Russian princess and the legendary Orestes Kyriakos, Zac had inherited most of his fortune from his grandfather, Socrates, after Orestes had used his kidnapped bride’s wealth to restore the state of the Kyriakos fortune to its pre-Great War glory. Both Orestes and Socrates had been legends in their own times, and Zac himself featured prominently on the covers of the world’s finance magazines, as well as making the annual list of most eligible bachelors in the known universe for the last decade.
But naively Pandora hadn’t given his fame a thought, hadn’t expected to have her wedding treated like that of royalty.
“Smile. They think our wedding is romantic. A modern fairy tale,” Zac whispered into her ear. “And you’re the beautiful princess.”
Feeling as though she were performing to the gallery, Pandora turned to the window and bared her teeth in a travesty of a smile. The cameramen went crazy. And then they were sweeping through the tall wrought-iron gates, along the private tree-lined avenue through parklike gardens.
“Pandora.” Without warning, Zac’s expression turned serious and he reached for her hand. “Remember what I told you when you arrived? Don’t read the papers. Don’t search for those photos in the newspapers tomorrow. The lies and half-truths that accompany them will only upset you. Concentrate on us, on our future together,” he said, his voice unexpectedly fierce as his thumb caressed the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. “The speculation, the gossip and garbage the tabloids dredge up will destroy you.”
“I know. I already promised you I won’t read the papers.” She sighed. “I only wish Dad had been here.” Her father’s absence was the only shadow that hung over an otherwise perfect day. But since a bad bout of pneumonia four winters ago had left his lungs permanently damaged, necessitating regular doses of oxygen, her father no longer risked airline travel. “I always thought he’d be there on my wedding day to give me away.”
The realization was dawning that she’d left her father and her childhood home far behind. After today, she would spend the rest of her life with Zac. Loved. Adored. The pomp and people didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing except Zac.
Zac’s house—more like a mansion, with its tower and stone walls—appeared before them. This would be her home from now on, together with the town house he owned in London. Zac had also spoken about buying a retreat in New Zealand, near her father’s station.
“Your father may not be here, but I am. I’ll always be here for you.” At the intensity in his voice she turned her head. His hard, hewn features were softened by the sun filtering through the bulletproof glass windows, his eyes curiously gentle. Her throat tightened. She cast around for words but couldn’t find any that matched the moment.
“Are you ready to face the world, yineka mou?” he asked as the car slowed.
My wife.
Pandora shot him a dazzling smile, happiness overflowing within her. She smoothed down the swathes of silk of the antique full-skirted gown.
“I’m ready for anything.”
Zac helped her from the car and they braved the informal honour guard of smiling well-wishers that lined the path to the front door. Pandora couldn’t wait to meet Zac’s friends, the sister and cousins he’d talked about incessantly during his stay in New Zealand. She’d wanted to meet them earlier in the week when she’d arrived in Athens. Zac had smiled, his eyes crinkling in that irresistible way that she loved, and told her he wasn’t ready to share her yet. He wanted to play the tourist, he’d explained, to show her around. There’d be time enough to meet his friends and kin and staff later … at the wedding. She’d acquiesced. Zac only had to smile at her and she turned to mush.
They’d met at High Ridge, her father’s vast sheep station in the South Island. Zac had come to New Zealand to discuss the possibility of guests flying in for exclusive stays at a working sheep station in luxury accommodation while a Kyriakos cruise ship docked at Christchurch.
And it had been at High Ridge that the miracle had taken place—Zac had fallen in love with her. A whirlwind courtship followed. Three weeks. Packed with precious hours spent together. Then he’d stunned her with his proposal of marriage, the fabulous diamond ring, the promise to cherish her forever.
Recklessly, she’d said yes. And started to cry. He’d wiped the happy tears away, and his tenderness had made her love him even more.
Her father had been over the moon when they’d broken the news. He’d pumped Zac’s hand up and down.
And then Zac had jetted off back to Europe, back to running the billion-dollar shipping company he’d inherited from his grandfather. And, although an ocean had separated them, they’d spoken on the phone every day. Morning for him. Night for her in New Zealand. During those long conversations, Pandora had come to know the man she’d fallen in love with. There’d been two more lightning-swift visits. And, finally last week she’d flown to Athens for five days of playing tourist in the city with Zac at her side. It had all culminated in the Big Day.
Today.
Now, as they moved forward into the massive arched entrance of Zac’s home accepting congratulations, Pandora recognised some of the faces. She was kissed on the cheek by a famous Hollywood actress and her equally famous husband, a singer in a rock band. Several legendary businessmen wished her and Zac well, and she smiled at a star footballer and his fashion-icon wife.
Inside the huge house she glimpsed a European prince and his popular Australian wife, a socialite who’d sprung to fame from a television-reality show, and several stunning supermodels stood out from the crowd. Pandora’s sense of inadequacy grew.
Her mouth dry with nerves, she allowed Zac to lead her to the dais where the wedding table was set with silver cutlery and exquisite antique crockery.
And still the congratulations didn’t stop. People streamed past the table in a blur of faces. There was no time for intimacy as distant members of Zac’s family, his colleagues and acquaintances smiled at her, until Pandora was sure that everyone in the room wanted a good look at her.
Did she measure up? Or had they expected more from the woman Zac married? The thought was daunting.
She searched the crowded tables. Evie and Helen, two of her school friends from St. Catherine’s, were out there somewhere. For a decade the girls had been cloistered together in the strict boarding school in the backcountry. Except for vacations, Pandora had spent most of her life at St. Catherine’s until leaving a few months before her eighteenth birthday three years ago. Since then, apart from a couple of vacations
