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Lowering her gaze to the less interesting subject of her water glass, she shrugged. ‘I know what I know.’ And she definitely would’ve remembered him.
‘I competed under my mother’s maiden name of Christou.’
Her head snapped up. ‘The only Christou I remember—you’re Drakos Christou! Five-time world champion?’ Rebel wasn’t aware she’d grabbed his hand until he traced his thumb over hers. She started to pull away but he held her tight. And because she liked it, she stayed.
‘Yes.’ A lopsided smile accompanied the acknowledgement.
Knowing she was risking fan-girling over him, she reined herself in. ‘Wow. You look...different.’ He’d sported longer hair and a full beard during his competitions years, and although his build had been leaner, more streamlined, it had suited the sport he’d excelled in. No wonder she hadn’t recognised him, despite the faint feeling of familiarity she’d experienced in his office when they’d first met. ‘Why the change of name?’
The air thickened, sucking dry the easy banter that had eased their preceding courses. ‘My father disapproved of my chosen career. He would’ve preferred it if I’d joined the family real-estate business and succeeded him. He made it clear I wasn’t his son until I came to my senses and gave up skiing.’
‘But you didn’t give it up.’
His features tightened. ‘Not until I was forced to anyway.’
With the realisation of just who Draco Angelis was, the worldwide sensation that had surrounded his departure from cross-country skiing came flooding back. ‘You trained yourself for the last competition, but your knee blew out before you could win your sixth trophy.’
The hand now curled around hers tightened. ‘Discovering that my trainer had been pushing me past my limits just so he could gamble on my winning the tournament left me no choice.’
A soft gasp left her lips. ‘No way. What happened to him?’
His nostrils flared as he dragged in a breath vibrating with quiet fury. ‘He faced game throwing and other charges, but by the time the case went to trial and the extent of the gambling ring was discovered, it was too late.’
Sympathy welled through her. ‘Your knee injury ended your career.’
His lashes swept down to their joined hands. Slowly his grip loosened and he withdrew from her. Rebel missed the contact with an acuteness that stunned her. Drawing her hand from the table, she lowered it to her lap and balled it.
‘Amongst other things. But the most important lesson I learned was to always look beneath the surface. I knew things weren’t right, but I chose to ignore them because I was determined to win that final championship.’ His words held raw self-condemnation that struck a vulnerable place inside her.
Self-condemnation was an emotion she’d lived with and knew well. But Draco’s case was different. He hadn’t rushed recklessly into a situation through selfishness. He’d been deceived by someone he’d believed he could trust.
The urge to comfort him snowballed through her, but the rigid control once more clamping his features dissuaded her. The rest of the meal passed in near silence, and Rebel was thankful when Draco asked for the bill.
She was sliding back into his car when her phone started pinging. Digging it out, she read the congratulatory emails flooding her inbox, almost all of them from people she barely knew.
It wasn’t until she clicked an attachment that she saw the first headline.
Super-Agent and Sports Star Engaged!
Rebel didn’t bother to read the article, knowing this time round the carefully crafted story within was from source. About to click off her phone, she stopped as another picture from a social-media account lit up her screen, along with the history of how many times it’d been viewed.
She gasped.
‘Is something wrong?’ Draco asked, his gaze spearing her as he paused in the act of securing his seat belt.
She showed him the picture taken of them earlier, as he’d kissed her hand outside the restaurant. The quality of the photo was much too good to have been taken with a discreet phone camera. ‘Did you know the paparazzo was there?’
Shrugging, he pressed the ignition and the car roared to life. ‘Of course. That was the whole point of the act, wasn’t it?’
For a moment, Rebel couldn’t speak. Her hand trembled as she tucked her phone back in her bag. She called herself a thousand kinds of fool for each dart of hurt that lanced her. She’d dropped her guard for a handful of moments. So what?
If the figures were to be believed, the public were lapping up the image of a loved-up ‘Drabella’.
‘Yes, I guess it was,’ she replied quietly.
