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“Oh,” she covered it quickly, but hurt briefly marred her features, and he felt like an absolute shit. Cora was more like a sister to him than a cousin, a good friend, too. She recovered quickly though, sympathy softening her eyes. “Does that mean you don’t have time for a drink with your favourite cousin?”
He considered that, but there was a pull to the yacht he couldn’t explain. “I’ve already been longer than I intended.”
He’d pushed himself to stay away, but now he was champing at the bit to get back.
“One drink,” she lifted a single finger in the air. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
Cora had always been persuasive—itwas one of her many talents. As a girl, she’d been able to wear down her doting parents, so they’d grant her almost anything. She’d never taken ‘no’ for an answer, and they all admired that about her.
“Thanasi’s worried about you.”
Anastasios lifted his brows, surprised by the remark. “Worried aboutme?” It was absurd. Anastasios was more than capable of taking care of himself.
“After the funeral, you basically disappeared,” she pointed out. “And when you are around, he says you’re distant. Distracted.”
All these things were true, and yet Anastasios couldn’t see that they were any cause for concern.
“Dad left a lot of projects up in the air. I’ve been busy.”
“I know.” Cora’s voice was soft, her eyes running over his face. “You look exhausted.”
He ground his teeth together, not wanting to elaborate on the reason for his perceived exhaustion—the thoughts that kept him up at night, the distraction that was constantly chewing through his focus.
“I just wondered if there was something else going on?”
He stiffened, careful not to reveal any response to that. What was happening between himself and Phoebe was not something he wanted to discuss, with anyone. A waiter appeared with their drinks, a scotch for Anastasios and a pink champagne for Cora. She lifted it to her lips, sipping it gratefully. Her glossy brown hair was piled on her head in a ballerina bun, and she wore a tutu dress that showed off the slender lines of her body, and a tan she didn’t have to work to cultivate at all.
“Such as?” His voice was neutral, his face nondescript.
She hesitated.
“I presume this is what you wanted to discuss. Cut to the chase, Cora. It’s not like you to obfuscate.”
“It’s delicate,” she leaned closer, her mouth, painted a coral pink, pursed in a serious line of concentration.
The hairs on the back of Anastasios’ neck stood on edge. This wasn’t about Phoebe. It couldn’t be. And the only other situation of any gravitas was Kon’s affairs…He had no reason to suspect she knew, and yet there was something in her demeanour, and the timing, that had him bracing for the worst.
“I’m waiting.”
She reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a pamphlet, passing it across. It was the brochure for an opera performance in Verona. He scanned it, then pushed it back. Confusion shifted inside his chest.
“You’re asking me to go with you?”
“I’ve already been,” she corrected. “Two nights ago.”
“And you’re recommending I go?”
“Yes, but not for the reason you might think.”
“It wasn’t good?”
“Oh, no. It wasexcellent.A particularly fine soprano, a relative newcomer to the scene. Ophelia Agnavadi.”
“Should I have heard of her?”
“Not necessarily, though in a few years, I think she’ll be as famous as Pavarotti.”
“Good for her. Your point?”
