The Greek's Bought Wife. Helen Bianchin
took great pride in the boutique with its elegant salon, beyond which lay a small back room where extra stock was stored, as well as the usual utilities.
There was a need to be in familiar surroundings, she acknowledged as she crossed the salon. To think and rationalise Nic Leandros’ proposition. She’d be damned if she’d term it a proposal.
She hadn’t thought of children; she definitely hadn’t considered marriage.
It was the reason she socialised within the safe company of a few selected and trusted friends. Vasili used to tease that while he protected her from male predators, she protected him from female fortune hunters. A mutually satisfactory relationship.
At least it had been until that fateful night when a friendly kiss had led to more. A tenderly concerned Vasili who had suggested it was time she made the final leap to sexual intimacy with a friend for whom she held affection and trust. Add the enhancement of wine…and it had seemed so logical at the time.
Ironic that the act should result in pregnancy. Yet she wanted this child…an unexpected gift in living memory of a fun and caring young man.
Was she right in keeping the child solely hers? If Vasili were alive, they’d share parenting and the child would assume the Leandros name.
So why did she baulk at Nic Leandros’ proposition?
Because Vasili’s half-brother was an unknown quantity. Older, ruthless…dangerous.
Yet she had to concede there were advantages. The child would have a father figure, a legal right to its heritage, grandparents, family. A stable, loving environment in which to grow.
On a personal level she’d have a steady male companion whom she could trust not to hit on her at the end of an evening.
Another plus was the knowledge Nic travelled extensively on business. A lot of the time he wouldn’t be in the same city, the same country.
The vacuum hummed as she ran it over carpet and marble tiles, then she carefully smoothed a dusting cloth over shelving, polished the mirrors before standing back to admire her handiwork.
The salon held the restrained elegance of an up-market boutique, its design and fittings…so exactly right for the Double Bay location renowned for its fashionistas, the wealthy women who could indulge their expensive tastes in imported and Australian designer apparel.
Tina possessed a natural love of clothes, and had done so for as long as she could remember, mix and matching outfits as she’d dressed her dolls…Barbie, of course, in each of her guises. As a teenager, she’d helped out in her mother’s boutique, proving she had a keen eye for fashion, accessories, and an instinctual flair for putting things together.
There was no hesitation in which field she’d make her career, and she’d learnt the retail clothing trade from the floor up…initially through her mother’s expert tutelage, then in one of Sydney’s large city stores for three years before returning to co-manage her mother’s Double Bay boutique.
Until five years ago when Claire had met and married Felipe, the second love of her life, shifted base to Noosa, leased her apartment and left Tina in control.
The Double Bay social set employed a reasonably routine shopping pattern, meeting around nine-thirty for coffee, electing to begin browsing the various boutiques around ten-thirty, followed by a long lunch at one of the trendy restaurants, before doing the air-kiss thing and departing for homes cleaned by professionals.
Lily arrived promptly at ten, almost bursting into the boutique, modifying her excitement as Tina finished dealing with a patron who’d bought the entire outfit displayed in the front window…including shoes and handbag.
A folded newspaper was placed onto the glass-topped island counter.
‘Have you seen this?’ Lily demanded, sotto voce, following it with an irrepressible grin.
Tina glanced at the newsprint and felt the breath catch in her throat. Strategically placed centre page was a reasonably sized photograph taken the previous night at the restaurant, together with a bold caption speculating a date for Nic Leandros’ forthcoming marriage to Tina Matheson.
‘How come you kept this to yourself?’ Lily teased. ‘Give.’
The truth was a credibility stretch…even for a friend. ‘It represents a gross misinterpretation by the media.’ Initiated by a determined manipulative man, Tina added silently, and met Lily’s speculative gaze.
‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
‘For now.’
The electronic door buzzer provided a timely interruption, and she turned to discover the courier delivery guy with a packing box.
‘Where do you want this?’
Three patrons entered the boutique, one serious buyer, Tina judged, and two browsers idly riffling through the racks.
With a quick word she excused herself and crossed to the courier’s side. ‘Out back.’ She silently signalled Lily to take over while she checked the invoice.
Minutes later the courier clipped the signed invoice onto his clipboard and departed, leaving Tina to cross to the two women checking out a garment, whereupon she offered assistance, complimenting the designer, the fabric and style.
Another sale, followed soon after by another, adding to a productive morning, Tina reflected as she took a moment to complete the unpacking of new stock.
‘Oh, my.’
The hushed tone in Lily’s voice had Tina shooting a glance in her direction. ‘As in?’
‘Serious eye candy about to walk through the door.’
Male, Tina deduced. An attractive husband intent on buying his wife an expensive gift? She didn’t bother glancing up. ‘Go for it.’
‘I wish.’
Lily’s reverence brought forth a slight smile. Lily was equally friend as valued employee, and considered herself to be a connoisseur of men.
‘However, he’s yours.’
Tina’s gaze shifted to the salon entrance and the breath caught in her throat in recognition of the man engaging Lily in conversation.
Nic Leandros…here?
If he thought she’d walk over to him and play pretend in Lily’s presence, he could think again.
With outward calm Tina extracted the last garment from the box, deftly inserted a clothes hanger and transferred it onto a rack so it could air for a while. After lunch she’d freshen today’s delivery with the steam-iron before transferring the garments onto display racks in the salon.
She was acutely aware of the muted background music whispering through strategically placed speakers, creating a relaxed ambience that was reflected in the elegant combination of delicately blended cream, wheat and beige utilised in the furnishings. A luxurious setting to display the exclusive range of designer garments for which the boutique was known.
‘Tina.’
It was a voice she’d recognise anywhere. It was also one she didn’t want to hear. Yet good manners forced her to school her features into a polite mask as she turned to face Nic Leandros.
Her gaze was silently challenging. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’ Cool…she could do cool, despite the fact her nervous system was in direct conflict. It was insane the way one glance at that well-shaped, sensual mouth brought a vivid recall of how it had felt possessing her own.
‘Lunch,’ Nic informed her with deceptive calm. ‘Your assistant is happy to take charge for an hour.’
He really was the limit! ‘I already have plans.’ She didn’t, but he wasn’t to know that.
‘Change them.’
‘Why should