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“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her words raspy. “I wasn’t looking—,”
“No, you weren’t.” The voice was accented and gruff. Her stomach twisted. “You were in an awful hurry.”
“I just needed some air.”
“Dressed like that?” His eyes travelled the length of her body and suddenly, the stunning couture gown she’d chosen for the occasion felt as though it might as well have been a string bikini. A thousand lights fired to life inside her bloodstream. She tilted her chin with a defiance she didn’t feel, as her nipples tingled against the expensive silk.
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?”
“It’s snowing.”
“Oh.” She looked outside, her inability to breathe now had nothing to do with memories of her ex-husband and everything to do with the powerfully attractive man staring down at her.
“But if you insist, at least wear this.” He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. She took it on autopilot, frowning a little.
“That’s very kind, but I have a jacket somewhere.”
“This is here. Isn’t it easier?”
Nothing about this was easy. Her eyes latched to the breadth of his torso, revealed by the removal of his jacket, and her first thought was one of utter awe. He struck her not as a man, but as a minotaur, half man, half beast, pure muscle and strength. Her throat was as dry as a desert.
“Are you sure?” Damn it, her voice was quivering with desire.
“I never offer what I’m not willing to share. Take it, alsaghir.”
The foreign word tripped of his tongue and she trembled a little, wrapping his jacket around her shoulders then closing her eyes as his scent engulfed her. Masculine, exotic, spiced. Her knees trembled.
“I won’t be long.” She turned and fled, her fingers shaking as she pushed open the door of the gallery and stepped onto the busy Athens street.
Deep into the icy-cold night, Phoebe stood in the center of the Gallery Valentina in the middle of Athens’ art precinct, with a glowing sense of accomplishment. The guests and staff were gone now, the champagne had been put away, the floors cleaned, leaving a pristine space with the art she’d hand-chosen adorning the walls.
The curator Rebecca had given Phoebe a lot of latitude, appreciating her insights and natural instinct for arrangement and placement, and for Phoebe, her work had become an extension of who she was, so she could no longer tell where she ended, and her vocation began. It felt as if her true purpose in life had been realized. The blissful happiness she experienced every day was something she’d never known possible, let alone that it would be hers.
“Well, my darling?” His voice sent goosebumps over her skin, as it always did.
She smiled as she turned to face him, and as he drew her into his arms, holding her tight, swaying a little, as if dancing to their own soundtrack. Gratitude filled her, for the courage she’d had in taking the step to be with him. Ever since that evening, she hadn’t looked back. “That was amazing.”
“You’ve certainly put together an exceptional showing.”
“Not hard with pieces like this. The media was in a frenzy.”
“I expect the gallery will be at capacity for months.”
“Definitely.” She drew back, so she could see him better. “I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to work on this.”
“You earned it. And you proved what a natural you are. Just don’t let one of the bigger galleries headhunt you. At least, not right away.”
His faith in her made her heart swell, particularly because she knew he was right. She could feel how good she was at this.
“I’m sorry your dad isn’t here to see it,” she said, softly, glad they could speak of Konstantinos now with equal grief and sadness for the void he’d left in their lives.
“He’d have been so proud of you.” Anastasios kissed her forehead.
“I really think he would have.”
Phoebe had been working twenty-hour days for the week leading up to the gallery’s opening, so the surprise Anastasios had planned for opening night had to be postponed. Of higher priority was getting her home, running a bubble bath then tucking her into bed for a good night’s sleep.
But in the morning, when she stepped into the kitchen, all the elaborate plans he’d made for candlelit dinners on the rooftop terrace with the accompaniment of a string quartet fell completely by the wayside. She was so heart wrenchingly, ethereally beautiful, and he was so utterly and completely in love with her, he had to speak the words he’d been thinking for months, before they chewed through him from the inside out.
