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Relief flooded through her and she had to look away so Annabel wouldn’t see it. Because not only had he kept his word, he’d done it so that Glory wouldn’t have to make any uncomfortable confessions.
Of course, the tricky thing now was that since he’d upheld his end of the bargain, she was going to have to uphold hers.
The thought made her feel scared and excited at the same time. Scared because it was marriage she’d promised him, and excited because he’d mentioned travel, which she’d always wanted to do, and...well...him.
‘What’s up?’ Annabel asked. ‘You’re looking very pleased with yourself all of a sudden.’
Glory flushed. Great, now she’d have to think up some lie since she couldn’t exactly tell her sister what was really happening. About how her IVF grant was really from an infamous playboy who was only paying for it because Glory had agreed to a marriage of convenience with him.Afterhe’d refused to buy her virginity.
Yes, that would go down like a lead balloon.
‘Oh,’ she said, thinking frantically about what to say that Annabel would believe. ‘I...um...entered a competition. To win a...European holiday. And I was just imagining winning it.’
Her sister, predictably, frowned. ‘Oh, Glory. Really?’ And there it was, the usual disappointment in her tone. ‘I hope you didn’t have to pay any money. You won’t win, you do know that, don’t you?’
How do you know that?Glory wanted to ask her sister.The chances are small, yes, but just because they’re small doesn’t mean it won’t happen.
But this was an old argument. Her sister’s glass-half-empty outlook and her determination to make sure Glory didn’t ‘get her hopes up’ had been a constant in Glory’s life. Normally she didn’t bother quarrelling about it, since she didn’t like upsetting Annabel, but for some reason today it needled her.
Because wasn’t it better to have some hopes rather than none? Otherwise what was there to strive for?
Says the woman who has striven for nothing but working at the Jessups’ grocery store.
Glory ignored that thought. There was nothing wrong with working at the Jessups’ store. It was a good, steady job and it paid the bills. Perhaps one day she’d think about what else she wanted from her life, but that day was not today.
‘No, I didn’t pay any money,’ she said, ‘but you’re probably right, I won’t win.’
The next day, she was kneeling on the cracked lino of the tiny, narrow aisle of the store, stacking tinned vegetables, when she heard the bell above the door ring, signalling a customer.
Getting to her feet, Glory went down the aisle to the counter, only to come face to face with a man in an extremely expensive, elegant suit who gave her a judgmental up-and-down look before asking, ‘Are you Miss Glory Albright?’
Trying to resist the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her stained jeans, Glory nodded.
The man held out a white, thick-looking envelope. ‘Your contract, Miss Albright. Mr. Xenakis wishes an immediate reply.’
She blinked at the envelope, reality suddenly crashing down hard. ‘Oh,’ she said stupidly. ‘Immediately?’
The man inclined his head. ‘Indeed. The contract has been looked over by an independent and neutral party, and Mr. Xenakis sends his assurances that it is all aboveboard.’
Glory took the envelope and stared at it.
You can’t sign this. This is marriage you’re talking about. Marriage to a man you don’t even know, who could be every bad thing they say about him and more. It’s a mistake and you know it.
It probably was. And as to marriage, well, he’d been clear it was a marriage of convenience only. It was almost like a...job. Yes, that’s how she needed to look at it. Which meant that this was her employment contract. And anyway, she’d promised him she’d do this, and she always kept her promises.
Glory took the contract, signed it quickly and gave it back to the man, before she could second-guess herself.
There. It was done. No backing out now.
Not long after that, an email arrived in her inbox that contained nothing but a date and a time, a request for some details for a passport and an attached itinerary, detailing flights to Athens.
Athens. She was going to Athens.
Glory knew she should reply requesting more information, such as how long she’d be going and what to bring, and what about her passport since she didn’t have one. But part of her didn’t want to ask. Part of her was thrilled at the mystery of it, since mystery had been sorely lacking in her life up until this point.
She’d dreamed as a kid of princesses and castles, of dragons and white knights. She’d wanted adventures and expeditions, and fairy tales. But then her and Annabel’s parents had died and all the adventures and fairy tales had died with them.
There had only been Annabel, tired and grief-stricken, trying to look after a flighty, dreamy and far too imaginative ten-year-old. Always telling Glory that she had to be quiet, behave, not talk to strangers, not sing in the hallways or fight pretend battles in the stairwells. That she had to stay in the background, keep her head down, stop being ‘silly.’ That dreams were nice, but reality was where everyone lived and that’s where she had to live too.
