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“You know I’m not one for photos,” Nico said.
Alethea’s smile faltered. “Of course.”
Marianna pressed closer into Nico’s side, as if sensing the tension. Thought it wasn’t hard to miss. Whenever he and Alethea were together, there was always a strange feeling in the air.
“Do you work for Nico and Dion?” Marianna asked.
Alethea shook her head, her gold hair catching the light of the lanterns. She smoothed her hands down the front of a fitted purple dress. It was almost comical how different she and Marianna looked—as if they were dolls someone had dressed up for the sake of an example. Past and present. Real and…well, he wasn’t quite sure what to call Marianna at this point. Their ties were real. Their obligations were real. But the rest of it…he had no idea.
“I’m more like a friend of the family,” she said. Nico held his breath, bracing against the pain that came whenever she used that word. These days it still hit him like a ton of bricks. “My father is…was an investor. He passed away last year.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Marianna’s shoulders sagged as though she’d taken on the weight of Alethea’s sorrow. “I lost both my parents when I was young, so…I understand. It’s very hard.”
“Yes, it really is. We were close.” Alethea’s lip quivered for a moment, but then she brought a drink to her lips and took a sip. “Oh, how rude of me.” She laughed and shook her head. “Here I am spilling my sob story on you when I should be toasting your marriage. That’s unacceptable. Yamas.”
Alethea’s champagne flute was suspended in front of her. Nico’s eyes darted to Marianna as she raised her glass, a determined smile on her lips. They clinked glasses and Marianna brought the flute to her lips, tipping her head back but keeping her lips firmly closed so that the champagne only touched rather than passed them.
If Alethea noticed the fake sip, she didn’t say anything.
“So you’ve known Nico a long time, then?” Marianna asked. “I bet you must have some dirt on him.”
He frowned and looked down at his wife. With her low-heeled shoes, she was two heads shorter than him, and the angle at which she looked up made her eyes appear large and round. Doe-like.
“Why do you want dirt on me?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful. She could have no idea how close to a nerve her question had struck.
“I’ll file it away for when we have our first marital fight,” she said with a cheeky smile. “Tell me, Alethea, how was he growing up?”
“Not half as grumpy as he is now.” Alethea laughed, and the sound was like being shot with memories. Some grazed his skin, and others took aim for his organs. “Nico was like a sponge. Anything he could learn, he would. Although I hear he was terrible in school, which always surprised me. You’ve married a man with a very sharp mind. He doesn’t miss a trick.”
Marianna made an interested hmm sound. “No, he certainly does not.”
Nico tightened his grip on Marianna’s waist. He’d give this conversation five minutes before he got her the hell out of there. Silky hair brushed his arm as she leaned her head against him. Damn her, she was enjoying making him sweat.
“I understand you’re new to Corfu,” Alethea said. “We should do lunch one day. I know the cutest little spot on the water that does amazing cocktails and has a wonderful view.”
“Sure.” She beamed. “That would be wonderful.”
Nico was about to pull Marianna away when the sound of a tinkling glass caught his attention. Spiro had walked over, his wife by his side, and was calling for everyone to quiet down.
“A toast,” he declared. “To Precision Investments, and to Dion and Nico for leading the way. And, of course, congratulations to Nico and his beautiful new wife, Marianna. We wish you good health and many children. Yamas!”
The crowd raised their glasses and shouted their well-wishes. Marianna smiled, but she had the look of an animal ensnared in the lights of an oncoming vehicle. “Thank you so much.”
Nico knew what would come next. The crowd was waiting expectantly, and Spiro winked. They were acting like it was a wedding, like they could cheer the bride and groom to kiss.
“Don’t be shy,” Spiro’s wife said.
Marianna turned to him, her brows furrowed. “Do they want us to give a speech?” she asked.
Nico shook his head. “They want us to kiss.”
If he delayed too much longer there would be questions. After all, what man wouldn’t kiss his wife at any opportunity? If they refused…well, that would only prompt more gossip.
“Oh.” She sucked in a breath, her cheeks glowing pink beneath the glowing lanterns swaying on the balmy breeze. “We shouldn’t. Not in front of everyone…”
He leaned forward, his lips close to her ear. “Do you want people to talk about why we wouldn’t kiss?”
She gulped. “Well, no. I guess not.”
One quick kiss. Then he could gracefully bow out and take Marianna home. The way she tilted her face up, her lips parted ever so slightly, was a siren song. His blood roared in his ears, a command rushing through him with each contraction of his heart.
