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‘Me too,’ she replied. ‘I can’t thank you enough for doing this at such short notice.’
‘It’s my pleasure, and for a very good cause. Is everything in place?’
‘Yes, each piece’s documentation is present and correct and, if I may say so,veryimpressive.’
Célia smiled. That final check meant that the event could go ahead as planned. ‘And having Bonnaire as backers for it is a real coup.’
Sia’s smile dimmed a little. ‘Well, they were happy to do so, provided I took the valuation on my own time.’
Célia frowned. ‘On your own time?’
‘I had lots of holiday to use anyway. And it’salmoston the way to the Emirates.’
‘I’m sure we could—’
‘No,’ Sia said with a genuine smile this time. ‘Really, it’s fine. It’s nice to be part of something like this. And frankly I was lucky enough to get a job with them anyway.’
Célia placed a comforting hand on Sia’s. They had become fast friends since first meeting at a charity gala event a few years ago and bonded over the difficulties with their parents.
‘Dare I ask?’ Sia questioned.
‘I haven’t seen either of them in five years,’ Célia replied, knowing that Sia was asking after her parents.
An alarm beeped on Sia’s phone and she looked apologetic as she reached into her handbag to retrieve it. Shaking her head again, ‘I’m so sorry. The flight is due to leave in just a few hours.’
Wishing Célia the best of luck for the evening, Sia departed with promises to meet up soon in Paris.
Once again Célia was alone in the grand space. Only this time echoes of an old hurt were her companion. She flicked out her fingers from her hands as if she could expel the painful sensation gathering within her body as she walked amongst the pieces of art that would hopefully net the charity a large sum of money and, of course, garner a great deal of positive press for Loukis.
Three rooms over, towards the back of the gallery, there were forty-five staff hired for the evening preparing canapés and drinks for the attendees. The master of ceremonies for the evening had arrived and was getting himself ready. But just for a moment, Célia had the space to herself and she drew in a deep breath to calm the nerves roiling in her stomach.
Rarely had she been at the front and centre of events like this. Ella usually gloried in this role. Ella, who had been worried when Célia had called to update her on the event. She hadn’t missed the brief pause that spoke of her concerns. She hadn’t missed the carefully constructed sentences gently probing if she might be taking on too much, or whether she might actually not be able to pull it off.
All of which had only driven Célia further. She now had as much invested in the event as Loukis. A brief flare of irritation welled in her chest as her thoughts turned to him, especially as since she had last seen him, far too much of her time had suddenly seemed preoccupied with her own clothing.
She pulled a slight grimace as she looked down at her black trousers and white silky top. It was definitely better than the beige T-shirt but she was sure that Loukis would manage to find fault with it. A part of her had wanted to find something that would wipe the disdain from his face the next time they met, but she had neither the time nor the money to do so.
Every bit she earned went into either the company or her home. Living in Paris, alone now—without Ella to share the rent—she’d had to move into a new apartment and, although she loved it dearly, it was still a drain on her earnings. Ella and Roman had offered to buy somewhere in Paris but Célia couldn’t, wouldn’t, take that. It wasn’t so much a case of cutting her nose off out of spite, more an awareness of how much she valued her own independence after all those years. Her father would be horrified to see the small loft apartment she had squeezed herself into. It was a far cry from the palatial estate she had grown up in as a child, before being sent to boarding school. And while it had been the height of luxury and status, she shivered at the memory of the way silence had echoed amongst the rooms. Seen and not heard, had been her father’s idiom. And for the millionth time, she wondered if it would have been different had she been born the son that her father had so desperately wanted. The heir to the business that was her father’s sole focus. Would that have prevented the endless well of disapproval she had felt from her father—even as she tried to emulate his path by going into computer sciences and engineering?
When she heard the determined clipped tones of shoes on the sleek flooring, she turned, wondering if Sia had forgotten something, and stopped short.
Loukis stalked towards her, his gait somehow both lazy and predatory, careless yet alluringly so. Dressed in a black tux, his white shirt undone at the collar, the tie balled in his fist, he looked as if he were just finishing his evening rather than starting it. As if he had just departed some mysterious woman’s bed. The thought sent images crashing through her brain and short-circuited the carefully prepared welcome she had wanted to greet him with.
‘Is everything ready?’ he demanded across the space as if he already had somewhere else to be, someone else on his mind.
She took in a breath she hoped would calm the frustration that seemed to be a constant companion to his sudden appearances.
‘Yes.’
‘Kalós,’he said, scanning the space quickly with an assessing gaze before he reached her.
‘Areyouready?’ she queried, cursing her words the moment his eyes returned to hers and pinned her with an angry stare.
‘Nai.’
‘Really?’ she asked again, despite his assurance. Somehow in all their conversations she’d become strangely touched by his use of half-Greek, half-English words, their meaning evident by the context. It was not the suave language of the playboy, but a signal of understanding, of trust in her and her abilities.
She held her hand out for the tie still clenched in a vicelike grip, wondering which Loukis she would get this evening. She had seen his determined side, she had seen the charming side as he had flirted over the phone with her usually sternly efficient assistant, the result of which was for her to descend into a useless heap of blushes and giggles. Only once had she seen what she thought might be the true Loukis. When he had said that they needed to talk in a tone that had stopped her hasty departure, before they had gone to Comte Croix.
