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‘Thank you. It means a great deal to Ella, my business partner, and myself.’
She nodded. ‘May I ask why?’
‘Of course.’
Over the next hour Célia and Yalena discussed everything from why they had started their own businesses, what they had wanted from them and where they would like to go in the future. Each had been struck by how closely their motivations and desires had aligned and celebrated the successes and understood the challenges faced by the other. They were both in the business of matching like-minded clients, for their mutual benefit, and had faced many similar obstacles. This might have been why Yalena had probed deeper and more thoughtfully than most of Chariton’s existing clients and, instead of dismissing outright the charity areas that Célia believed were the best fit for her peer-to-peer company, allowed her to explain her reasoning and interacted happily with Célia’s initial thoughts on what kind of events would benefit them.
Yalena leaned back in her chair, her hands sweeping circles on the smooth white cloth.
‘I know that look,’ Loukis said from behind Célia’s shoulder.
Yalena’s thoughtful gaze turned into an amused scowl. ‘You’re ruining the moment.’
‘No, I brought more champagne to celebrate.’ The confidence in his voice sparking the thrill of excitement and a burst of hope in Célia.
‘Does that mean I should have the contracts drawn up?’ asked Célia with a smile.
‘Yes. Most definitely yes. But that is all the business talk done for the day. Now. I want to hearallabout the proposal!’
The lunch had lasted long into the afternoon and dusk was beginning to fall as Loukis paid the bill, much to Yalena’s mocking disgruntlement. With deft acuity, he’d been able to keep much of the focus on Iannis and Yalena rather than on Célia and himself, Yalena’s husband more than happy to indulge in schoolboy memories shared by them both. And Loukis realised that he’d missed it. Missed the easy laughter of unweighted adult conversation. Much of the last three years of his life had been spent focused solely on Annabelle and shielding her from an outside gaze. Once Célia had realised that she’d secured not only another client, but one that had clearly inspired her, she had relaxed, joining in the gentle mockery between the two couples.
She had opened up under the gentle encouragement of those around her and it had been glorious. But he hadn’t missed how she skirted around her own past, her parents and life before Chariton Enterprises. There had been a few of her own childhood stories of a Swiss boarding school with Ella, and her friend’s marriage and recent baby news, but of herself, very little. And he still couldn’t quite work out how the drone fitted with the charitable endeavours.
Emerging onto the stone street from the restaurant, they were greeted by a swarm of paparazzi and a hail of flashbulbs.
Yalena reached for him, kissing his cheeks in farewell.
‘They’re a little feisty this evening. Perhaps they caught wind of your news?’ she said, sotto voce, to Célia and Loukis.
Célia looked towards him as if expecting an explanation, but he simply shrugged. ‘It wasn’t me.’
Iannis gave him a half-hug, ordered him not to let it go so long next time, turned to his wife and asked, ‘Ready to run the gauntlet?’
The two disappeared and Loukis was a little disconcerted that they didn’t manage to take any of the vultures with them.
He placed an arm around Célia’s shoulder. ‘The car should be waiting in the back street. Ready?’
She tucked herself a little more deeply into his side. He knew it was for protection, but he couldn’t help the streak of sensation that fired up and down the length of his body.
The moment they stepped forward, the questions began. The shouts and flashes were enough to bring on PTSD. He felt Célia tremble beside him and realised how intimidating and scary this would be for someone not accustomed to it.
‘Congratulations! How did he do it, Célia?’
‘Did he get down on one knee?’
‘Ms d’Argent—any comment on the news about your father?’
Célia stumbled, her foot twisting, and she would have fallen had it not been for his arm around her shoulders. Loukis bit back a curse.
‘What does François Paquet think of his future son-in-law?’
The name of the renowned French defence contractor cut through his anger with shocking intensity. Paquet was her father?
‘Any response to the claims you’ve bagged another billionaire, Célia?’
‘When was the last time you spoke to your ex, Marc Moreau?’
At this, he’d had enough. He turned to the seething mass around him. ‘Ladies and gentlemen—’ though the friendly appellation stuck in his throat ‘—is it not a bit uncouth to ask about the father, ex-partner and current fiancé all in the same breath?’
