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‘Not that he told me so at the time.’
‘I wouldn’t have merited your attention if I had,’ Costa said, and unlike Eric he did not use Mary as a channel to deliver his words.
Eric continued to do so, though. ‘I have to hand it to him,’ he droned, ‘Costa saw its potential. God knows how, though. Still, without my backing...’ He carried on, puffing himself up at every turn. And while he seemed to be speaking to Mary, it was all an attempt to belittle Costa.
And it was a futile attempt, Mary knew, because Costa Leventis remained utterly composed.
‘Well, it’s history now...’ Eric said. ‘To be honest, I’m glad to be shot of the last piece of it.’ He looked around. ‘Where the hell are our drinks? I want to toast our foray into the Middle East. Ah, here they are...’
Costa had been looking forward to this moment for what felt like a lifetime—in fact he had been planning it for most of his own. Yes, this went back way past fifteen years.
He thought of his very first purchase: a single room in a seedy hotel. At the time, Anapliró’s only one. It had been far from an impulse buy. And what he’d told Eric was right. Eric would never have exchanged so much as a glance with a poor boy from Anapliró, nor a desperate woman collapsed on the floor, come to that. Oh, there were many reasons for him to relish this moment to come.
But as he went to deliver his well-rehearsed spiel he glanced over to Ridgemont’s date and knew, simply knew, that Eric’s vile temper would find an outlet. That this ‘Mary from London’ would bear the brunt of Costa’s actions this night.
Whatever her relationship with Ridgemont, it should not affect this business meeting.
Ridgemont’s choice of date for the night and the consequences to her of the news he was about to impart would not usually enter his head.
Costa was not an unkind person. It was more that he had trained himself to be an unemotional one.
Except...
His gaze flicked to her, and then away, although with that brief glance the details he had taken in were stamped on his mind. She wore a very simple grey dress and no make-up or jewellery. Her blonde hair was styled and pinned up—all that he knew. But it was not her delicate bone structure, nor the sapphire of her blue eyes that played on his mind. It was more that there was a certain prudence to her that disquieted his soul.
There was a certain naivety too, which did not quite equate—for he was beyond certain that Ridgemont would have paid for her company. She troubled him, and Costa wanted to be the hell away from trouble—hence this meeting tonight.
She was like a little bird, sitting on a ledge, alert and nervous but with no real idea of the might of the tigers that prowled beneath.
Oh, despite Galen’s warning, Costa doubted there would be a scene. Costa would deliver his news, and Eric would posture, but then he’d bluster off with his posse in tow. Then there would be perhaps a week of difficult meetings, followed by the legal fallout, for which Costa had been long prepared. But now there was an unexpected issue that had arisen—one he had not considered at all when he’d carefully made his plans: the fact that Ridgemont would storm off into the night withher.
‘Cheers,’ Ridgemont said, and held up his glass. ‘What is it they say in Greece?Yamas!’
‘Yamas,’Costa duly answered, and decided he would drink to improving Ridgemont’s black soul. ‘To your health...’
He clinked Ridgemont’s glass and then looked over to Mary. How the hell did he clink her glass and wish her well when he knew she would be leaving with that pig?
Costa felt something that he didn’t even want to acknowledge...something that verged on protectiveness for a woman to whom he had barely spoken.
Costa Leventis did not clink her glass—not that Eric noticed—and Mary sat, wishing the ground would open up and she might simply disappear. Except she felt safe at the moment. Relieved by Costa’s presence. Which was odd, for it was clear that everyone else seemed set on edge by him. Eric was now sweating with nerves, and the waiters were all waiting to pounce, and still so many heads turned towards him.
‘So!’ With the formalities over, Eric pushed for answers. ‘I’m assuming there’s a reason for your early arrival?’
‘Indeed...’
There was a certain ominous note to Costa’s tone that forced attention, and as the waiter approached again to offer menus, or another drink perhaps, Costa waved him away with a perfectly manicured hand.
He was going to leave, Mary realised, and she suddenly dreaded what he was about to say.
And that she would be left with this man.
‘I didn’t want to put it in an email or talk through a screen...’ Costa knew his voice was calm, eerily so. ‘You know I prefer to speak face to face.’
‘We can’t wait to hear—can we, darling?’ Ridgemont said.
Costa watched as he again reached for Mary’s pale hand and squeezed it. The tips of her slender fingers turned a bloodless white, and very deliberately Costa did not blink. Glancing up from her hand, he registered fear in her eyes.
Costa’s gaze flicked back to Ridgemont. ‘I would rather speak with you alone.’
