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She would be – could be strong.
She had to be.
It was the only way she could have what she want, and that was to stay forever by Damen’s side without breaking.
THE PARTY WAS OBVIOUSLY in full swing by the time Drake, Damen, and Mairi arrived at the venue, an upscale nightclub that had been temporarily closed to the public for the 60th birthday of one of Greece’s most popular politicians, Nelson Athanas. They also appeared to be the only guests who had not arrived in a fancy limo or expensive sports car, judging by the way the waiting attendants and valets standing next to the front doors were gawking at them.
But the next second, the reporters loitering around the area caught on to their presence and everyone immediately surged towards them.
“How are you adjusting to life in the poorhouse now that you only have $4,305 in your bank account?”
“When are you going to leave him for Stavros Manolis or Ioniko Vlahos, Mrs. Leventis?”
“Are you here to beg on your knees for help from Nelson Athanas?”
Damen didn’t answer any of the questions, his face only mirroring icy contempt that would have made Mairi feel small if it had been directed at her. She should be used to the obnoxious questions of the media by now, but she wasn’t. She still found herself furiously hurt by it, and she hated them even more for trying to paint Damen in a weak and pathetic light with all their innuendos.
Only Damen squeezing her hand in warning kept her lips clamped shut, and Mairi did her best to keep her face just as expressionless, gazing resolutely ahead as they made their way to the front doors. Damen furnished his invitation to the receptionist. She had a tense look on her face, and she barely glanced at the invitation before saying in a pained tone, “I’m sorry, Mr. Leventis, but I believe you’re not on the list.”
Loud exclamations of surprise and murmurs rose from the crowd behind them, followed by another bout of flashing camera bulbs.
Since Damen had an invitation, it only meant that Damen had been taken off the list recently. The sheer indignity of it appalled Mairi, and she tightened her hold on Damen, fearing how such a proud man would take this kind of embarrassment. Unable to help it, she stole a look at her husband but was stunned to see an amused smile curving on his lips as his beautiful face took on a contemplative look.
Discovering that Esther would resort to such childish lengths to thwart him did not perturb Damen at all. In the first few weeks that Mairi had been gone and his whole world had crashed around him, Damen had come to realize that nothing really mattered to him except having the woman he loved. Everyone could do their worst to him, and it wouldn’t matter.
With Mairi, he was invincible.
Without Mairi, he was broken.
It was that simple.
Damen gave the receptionist a pleasant smile, murmuring, “Perhaps you would like to double-check with Mr. Athanas one last time?”
Visibly relieved at not having to handle any kind of outburst over the slight, the receptionist quickly agreed and made the call.
When he looked down at Mairi, she asked under her breath, “Do we really have to come to this party?”
“Yes.”
She grimaced at the one-word answer. “And you’re not going to say anything more than that?”
Knowing that she only asked out of worry, he stroked her cheek in silent reassurance. “I will tell you everything you want to know at home, I promise.” He was done keeping secrets from her. Well, except for that one thing, Damen thought. Uneasiness struck him, but he pushed it away. He had planned everything carefully. Mairi wouldn’t have to know about it until he was good and ready to tell her.
Chapter 9
The two of them turned when the doors burst open, and out walked a pair of men in black, flanking each side of their employer, Esther Leventis.
Again, Mairi found herself reluctantly impressed by the woman’s sophistication and elegance. She was about the same height as Mairi, but the way she held herself so proudly made her appear a lot taller. She was really a beautiful woman. It was just too bad Esther’s beauty was only skin deep. She doubted if she’d ever understand how Esther was able to stomach fighting with her own flesh and blood this way.
Esther made sure not to look at the woman standing next to Damen. For as long as she lived, Esther thought coldly, she would never acknowledge that trollop as her son’s wife. Mairi Tanner was the worst sort of gold digger, the kind of woman who was only fit to be a whore and not a wife.
“Esther.” Damen was the first to speak, his innate courtesy making Mairi feel even prouder of him. If she had been in his shoes, she would probably have just ended up crossing herself because Esther, for all intents and purposes, seemed very much like the Devil’s advocate.
