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Her head twisted just as her heart sank. The florid features of Cosmo Dimistris loomed at her side.
Automatically she lifted her champagne glass. It was both a psychological and a physical barrier. She took a sip, uncomfortably aware of the other man’s perusal.
‘Yes,’ mused Cosmo, his eyes fixed on her, ‘Markos certainly knows how to pick the most luscious fruit on the tree. Have you been with him long?’
Vanessa’s smile was tight, nothing more than social civility required.
‘We met in September.’
Cosmo’s heavy eyebrows rose. ‘You’ve lasted well,’ he remarked, his Greek accent pronounced. ‘But then, you are exceptional.’ He leaned towards her. ‘And only the best will do for Markos Makarios, of course.’ He gave a laugh that Vanessa did not like. Automatically her eyes went searching past Cosmo’s shoulders to where Markos was still engaged with the French group. Almost she started forward, to go towards him, then stopped herself. He must be talking business, and if he’d wanted her beside him he’d have taken her over.
So she held her ground. If she said as little as possible to this unappealing acquaintance of Markos, he might take the hint and move on.
But it seemed Cosmo Dimistris had no inclination to move on. He took a mouthful of whatever he was drinking, which looked like some kind of highball.
‘So,’ he said, his eyes still fixed on her, ‘you’re making the most of him, I take it?’ Casually he reached out and touched the diamond pendant with the tip of a fat finger. ‘Very pretty.’ As he took his finger away it seemed to slip suddenly, and touch her bare skin. It took all her poise not to flinch. ‘I’d give you emeralds, myself. Far more dramatic for your colouring. Tell me, what are your plans for the future? I would be interested in knowing.’ He paused. ‘Very interested.’ Again the hot eyes worked over her, in a way she hated.
Repulsion warred with sheer disbelief. Some man she had been reluctantly introduced to a bare hour or so ago was asking her about her plans for the future? Vanessa could only stare blankly, not knowing how to deal with such an intrusive question.
Oblivious, Cosmo Dimistris took another mouthful of his highball.
‘It would be quite funny, really,’ he went on. ‘Keeping it in the family, so to speak—I would be happy—more than happy—’ he bestowed another louche look at her ‘—to provide a convenient solution to your predicament.’
Vanessa was baffled. What on earth was he on about? She neither knew nor cared. She just wanted him to go away and Markos to return to her side.
She stiffened as Cosmo Dimistris leant forward suddenly, moving deliberately into her body space.
‘How loath Markos will be,’ he breathed, ‘to relinquish so delectable a mistress as you—but his loss would be my gain, no? And yours too, of course. I would be as generous as he, I assure you—you would not lose by coming to me.’ The hot eyes were all over her again, speculative, lascivious.
Vanessa jerked back, the movement sharp and instinctive.
‘Excuse me.’ Her voice was clipped. Shock and disbelief mingled in her. This repulsive man had actually said that to her? She turned away, lurching forward towards where Markos was still talking to the French group. She could not stay where she was and let that d
isgusting man talk to her in such a way. A shudder went through her, as if something unclean had touched her skin.
‘Markos—’ Her voice was pitched with relief as she reached him, her hand automatically going around his forearm as if he were a life-raft.
The Frenchman who’d been talking fell silent. Realising she must have interrupted him with her exclamation, she gave a shaky smile. ‘Please—do excuse me,’ she murmured a little breathlessly. She gave a social smile, her fingers closing around Markos’s arm a little tighter.
The Frenchman did not resume talking. Nor did anyone else say anything. There was a sudden silence. Then, abruptly, the elderly woman and the other man moved away. At her side, Vanessa suddenly realised that Markos was tense. As the couple moved away the man who’d been speaking said something again, in rapid French. Markos nodded curtly, then turned away, drawing Vanessa with him.
‘I’m… I’m sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that—’
‘I told you I would only be a few minutes.’ Markos’s voice sounded sharp.
Vanessa stared, a hollow feeling in her throat.
‘What—what is it?’
She saw his lips press together, and then he spoke.
‘That was the Duchesse de Nerailles-Courcy,’ he said tightly.
Vanessa blinked. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know who she is.’
‘Well, obviously not.’ Markos sounded impatient, then gave a sharp sigh. ‘Look, forget it—all right? It’s too late now. But, please, next time I ask you to wait for me, I’d appreciate it if you did so.’
There was a sharpness in his voice that Vanessa had never heard before. Slowly, without realising she was doing it, she let her hand fall from his arm.
