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But Costa simply overrode the order, as if he had not even heard Eric’s terse demand. ‘Cognac, sparkling water, and champagne for Mr Ridgemont.’
‘Of course, sir. Would you like menus?’
‘Just the drinks,’ Costa said, and then added, ‘thank you.’
No champagne for Costa, no menus... Even to Mary’s inexperienced eyes it was obvious that the dinner Eric had engineered was not going as planned.
Costa was in complete command, and possibly the only unperturbed person in the restaurant!
Every woman in the room, Mary was certain, was distinctly on edge and casting little glances in the direction of their table—or rather in the direction of Costa. Even all the men had paused and glanced over when he’d entered, with something Mary could only liken to respect or admiration.
He was company that many would like to keep, Mary concluded, whether personally or professionally. Yet the empty seat beside him spoke volumes—Costa was not here to impress anyone. And that empty seat spoke of restlessness too. It said that this was only a small part of his plans for the night.
His gaze briefly roamed the restaurant and Mary was certain that all he’d have to do was meet the eyes of one of the many women he held entranced and she would simply get up and walk over to be seated beside him.
Mary would rather like to do the same!
There was an energy to him that was compelling. Even his voice had captured her thought processes—it was low and deep, and though heavily laced with a rich accent his English was near perfect as he addressed Eric.
‘I had reserved a quiet spot at the bar so that we could speak undisturbed and in private.’
‘There’s nothing that can’t be said here.’ Eric dismissed Costa’s concerns. ‘Mary knows we’ll be talking business, don’t you, darling...?’
He reached and took her hand, but as he moved to plant his wet mouth on her cheek Mary couldn’t help but flinch, darting her head to the side in an attempt to avoid his touch.
But there was no escaping the wetness of his lips on her cheek.
It was her first kiss since childhood.
And it was a form of contact that Mary had thought she craved.
Yet she sat there, feeling utterly revolted, and as Eric spoke on she surreptitiously reached for her napkin and dabbed her cheek.
‘Costa and I go way back,’ Eric said to Mary—though not for her benefit, she was sure. ‘How long have you been in business now, Costa...? Fifteen years?’
‘Oh, I’d say it was longer.’
‘It can’t be.’ Eric shook his head. ‘You were just twenty when I backed that loan for the Anapliró resort?’
‘Retreat,’ Costa corrected.
‘And you’re how old now?’
‘Thirty-five.’
‘There you go, then.’ Eric was triumphant. ‘I knew I was right.’
Mary glanced over, and Costa’s brief, almost imperceptible smile told her that Eric only thought he had won and had in fact just been duped. Gosh, there was something far more than champagne and business going on at this table, and if she hadn’t been so petrified then Mary would have been riveted.
It was then that Costa looked over to her and she properly met his eyes.
His expression was completely unreadable, though it could never be described as blank, for there was far too much knowing in his eyes. She could not, even on close inspection, define their colour—a mix of silver, black and grey, as if angels had crushed onyx and diamonds and at the last moment thrown a chip of emerald into the mortar. And they had ground in some sapphire with their pestle too, for, yes, there was a glimmer of blue...
Had she not been sitting beside the most appalling man imaginable, there might have been a moment for her to consider that Costa was truly beautiful. Except as Eric spoke Costa flicked his gaze away, and Mary saw his flash of contempt for the man who sat opposite him. She sensed danger.
‘A right slag heap, wasn’t it?’ Eric continued, and without turning his head he addressed Mary again. ‘Costa grew up there.’
‘Did you?’ Mary politely enquired, and Costa gave a brief nod.
