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“Well, I might be, yes, but he’s oddly territorial about his work. He doesn’t like to share it with anyone.” And that was a flat out lie. What Nick Katsaros had told his son was: “You’re a smart boy, Simon, but you’re not willing to apply yourself to any work I give you, so it’s best if you don’t try right now. We can revisit this in the future.” Simon had been both relieved and mildly insulted.
“How odd.”
“It’s an odd family. But then you know that, don’t you?”
“Our fathers are business associates, and our parents are in the same social circle. That doesn’t mean I really know much about you or your family.”
“Except what you read in the gossip rags.”
“I don’t read gossip rags!” she protested, realizing belatedly that he’d put her on the defensive. “My mother leaves them around hoping I’ll read them and be consumed by the desire to marry you and have a lot of babies.”
“And it’s not working?”
“Not really.”
“Pity. We’d have made some pretty children.” That was the truth, she thought. She knew she was pretty, and he was stunning… she would have liked to see what their offspring would look like. It made her unaccountably wistful just thinking about it.
The dance ended and Simon escorted her back to her table where Paul was staring at his cell phone.
“Is this your date?” Simon asked.
“Yes. Paul, this is Simon Katsaros. Simon, Paul Andrews.”
The men shook hands, though Paul did so without much enthusiasm. “Simon’s father is a business associate of my father’s,” she explained.
“And we’re also distant cousins, but that’s not really a thing since I think virtually everyone in Greece is related to everyone else.” Simon was going for a laugh, but Paul didn’t get it. He wasn’t Greek. “Okay. Well, I leave you in good hands. I’m going off to dance with some other spinsters as befits my role as a groom’s man.”
He disappeared into the swirl of dancers and Eirene heard Paul make a disgusted noise. “What?”
“I can’t abide useless types like that.”
Before she’d met Simon and danced with him, she’d have said much the same thing. In fact, Eirene still thought Simon was rather useless, but hearing that same sentiment from Paul, with his expression of sullen superiority put her back up a little.
“He’s a businessman, Paul. You may not appreciate that, but he’s not useless.” And that was sharper than she’d intended. She drained the wine in her glass and refilled it.
“You’re having another glass of wine?” he asked. Was he determined to irritate her?
“I’m going to have all the wine I want, thank you very much. It’s a wedding and I’m having a good time.”
“It’s just… well, you know how you get, Eirene.”
She drained her glass and refilled it a second time. “No, Paul, tell me how I get.” He’d been such a pill about this wedding right from the get-go, and now he was determined to ruin it for her. She wasn’t going to have that.
“Never mind,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“You’re goddamn right, never mind,” she snapped, feeling a bit light-headed as the wine began to do its work.
“There, see? The language.”
“Oh my God, Paul, when did you turn into a prissy old maid?” she asked. But she already knew the answer. He’d always been one. Paul was so uptight that mutual friends had been known to joke about having the pole surgically removed from his ass before they got married.
“I think I’m going to go sit outside until you come to your senses,” he said and left the table. Eirene marched over to the bar and ordered a brandy.
“Well if you’ve moved the party over here, I’m with you.” It was Simon, standing at her elbow. “I’ll have what she’s having,” he said to the bartender.
She found she was a little irritated by Simon, too, but not nearly so much as by Paul, so she managed a smile. “You’re welcome.”
“What’s up? Where’s Mr. I-Disapprove?”
