The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel Read Online Free PDF Page A

quite measure up to his standards, and he felt he could do better. So he built this to show them how it ought to have been done.’
    Before he could stop himself he gave a crack of laughter and several people stared at the sight of this famously dour man actually enjoying a joke. A society journalist passing by stared, then made a hasty note.
    She responded to his laughter with more of her own. He led her to where the drinks were being served and presentedher with a glass of champagne, feeling that, just for once, it was good to be light-hearted. She had the power of making tension vanish, even if only briefly.
    The tables for the wedding feast were outside in the sun. The guests were taking their places, preparing for the moment when the newly married couple would appear.
    ‘I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said.
    ‘Just a minute. You haven’t told me who you are.’
    She glanced back, regarding him with a curious smile. ‘No, I haven’t, have I? Perhaps I thought there would be no need. I’ll see you later.’
    Briefly she raised her champagne glass to him before hurrying away.
    ‘You’re a sly devil,’ said a deep voice behind him.
    A large bearded man stood there and with pleasure Lysandros recognised an old ally.
    ‘Georgios,’ he exclaimed. ‘I might have known you’d be where there was the best food.’
    ‘The best food, the best wine, the best women. Well, you’ve found that for yourself.’ He indicated the young woman’s retreating figure.
    ‘She’s charming,’ Lysandros said with a slight reserve. He didn’t choose to discuss her.
    ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ll back off. I don’t aspire to Estelle Radnor’s daughter.’
    Lysandros tensed. ‘What are you talking about?’
    ‘I don’t blame you for wanting to keep her to yourself. She’s a peach.’
    ‘You said Estelle Radnor’s daughter.’
    ‘Didn’t she tell you who she was?’
    ‘No,’ Lysandros said, tight-lipped. ‘She didn’t.’
    He moved away in Petra’s direction, appalled at the trap into which he’d fallen so easily. His comments about hermother had left him at a disadvantage, something not to be tolerated. She could have warned him and she hadn’t, which meant she was laughing at him.
    And most men would have been beguiled by her merriment, her way of looking askance, as though that was how she saw the whole world, slightly lopsided, and all the more fun for that.
    Fun. He barely knew the word, but something told him she knew it, loved it, even judged by it. And she was doubtless judging him now. His face hardened.
    It was too late to catch her; she’d reached the top table where the bride and groom would sit. Now there would be no chance for a while.
    A steward showed him to his place, also at the top table but just around the corner at right angles to her—close enough to see her perfectly, but not talk.
    She was absorbed in chatting to her companion. Suddenly she laughed, throwing back her head and letting her amusement soar up into the blue sky. It was as though sunshine had burst out all over the world. Unwillingly he conceded that she would be enchanting, if— if he’d been in a mood to be enchanted. Fortunately, he was more in control than that.
    Then she looked up and caught his eye. Clearly she knew that her little trick had been rumbled, for her teasing gaze said, Fooled you!
    He sent back a silent message of his own. Wait, that’s all. Just wait!
    She looked forward to it. Her smile told him that, causing a stirring deep within him that he had to conceal by fiercely blanking his face. People sitting close by drew back a little, wondering who had offended him.
    There was a distant cheer and applause broke out as Mr and Mrs Homer Lukas made their grand entrance.
    He was in his sixties, grey-haired and heavily built with an air of natural command. But as he and his bride swept into place it suited him to bend his head over her hand, kissing it devotedly. She seemed about to faint with joy at his tribute,