Bride Behind The Billion-Dollar Veil. Clare Connelly
the sky equivalent of a private limousine. As they walked towards it, Thanos pressed something in his pocket and the door slid open.
‘After you,’ he prompted, as if all of this was completely normal. Alice stared at the aircraft, her mouth open in sheer awe, but after a few seconds she pulled it together, forced herself to take a breath and step up into the helicopter’s interior. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. All beige caramel and white glossy wood, pure luxury and glamour.
Thanos took the seat beside her, and, despite the generous proportions of the craft, he made it feel tiny. She was conscious of his every exhalation, conscious of the way his frame was so large that his legs were so, so close to touching hers. She kept her own pinned together, her hands in her lap.
‘Clip in,’ he said, turning to face her, nodding towards the seat belt.
Alice reached behind her, fumbling the seat belt as she tried to clip it into the unfamiliar lock. He reached over, his eyes holding hers, a slight smile at the edges of his face. ‘May I?’
Feeling both naïve and stupid, she nodded. ‘Thank you.’ The words were crisp, and she was glad she’d spoken before he actually reached for the seat belt. Because the way he dragged it across her body sent a thousand volts of electricity into her nervous system, so heat pooled in her gut and spread through her limbs.
It was an innocent gesture though, and Alice had to remind herself that she was definitely not his type. That was the reason he was proposing this ridiculous marriage of convenience. Except—was it really so ridiculous? She could perfectly see the benefit to him, if it meant he could secure the purchase of P & A.
And for Alice?
Dared she hope he would offer some kind of salary to her—better than she was earning now—in order for her to go along with this? That had to be what he had in mind.
‘Here.’ He handed her a white headset then looped his own in place, before flicking some dials and switches and bringing the rotor blades to life. The noise was loud—too loud to speak over. He tapped the headset again, smiling as he lifted up off the rooftop.
‘Where are we going?’ she yelled, despite the fact she had a small microphone hooked up to the headset, so he winced a little, sending her a look of amusement.
‘Sorry.’ She laughed. ‘Where are we going?’ A whisper now.
Then he laughed, and the sound was like sun-warmed caramel, her body warmed in an instant and involuntary response.
‘Lunch.’
She arched a brow. ‘I thought you meant a sandwich at the deli downstairs.’
It was his turn to pull a face, his expression scandalised. ‘That’s not food.’
‘It’s…not?’
‘I do not like this American way of eating while you are doing other things. Sandwiches!’ He said the word as if it was an affront to good food everywhere, and she found a small smile playing about her lips.
‘Sandwiches are actually very practical. Portable, tasty, filling…’
He shrugged. ‘Boring.’
And she understood then, because Thanos enjoyed nice things. He enjoyed experiences. Parties. Food. Wine. The sun on his body as he sunned himself on the deck of his yacht.
‘You’re a hedonist.’
He turned to face her. ‘Perhaps. But shouldn’t we all be?’
Alice didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to remind Thanos that she’d spent the better part of the last few years wondering how long she could survive on just potatoes, or just bread.
‘So where are we going?’
‘A little place I know.’
The ‘little place he knew’ turned out to be a restaurant in Brooklyn, so exclusive it wasn’t even signposted. He brought his helicopter down on the roof of a building that was only about ten stories tall, busying himself with the technical requirements of flying for a few moments. Moments in which Alice sat completely still and tried to get her head around this bizarre turn of events.
It only became more bizarre when they entered the restaurant through the kitchen and the chefs stopped what they were doing to basically fawn over Thanos. They all wanted to speak to him, and, to his credit, he took a moment with each of them, and seemed to know most of their names. She watched, fascinated, as he asked questions of each, managing small details—the names of their children or partners, offering condolences to one woman who, Alice gathered, had recently lost her father.
‘You come here often?’ she prompted as they swept into the restaurant itself—a loft space that could have accommodated a hundred diners but which had instead been converted into a room that felt almost like a penthouse lounge, all elegant sofas interspersed with enormous fiddle-leaf fig plants in copper pots. This made it possible for the dining tables to be set far apart, creating complete privacy, and suddenly Alice understood the appeal.
No one would hear their conversation; they could speak entirely unobserved.
He held a chair out for her only seconds before a waiter appeared.
‘Mr Stathakis, welcome back. Would you like to see a menu?’
Thanos tilted his head towards Alice. ‘I usually just eat what is served. However, you might like to take a look?’
‘No, that’s fine.’ She shook her head. ‘Whatever you have will be great, I’m sure.’
‘I can ask if they will serve you sandwiches?’ he teased and her heart skipped a beat.
‘That would be lovely.’ She winked to show she was joking.
Thanos grinned, dismissing the waiter with a few words in Greek, before taking the seat opposite her. She felt an unwelcome burst of nerves, and did her best to quell them.
In the office, his proposition had been surprising. On the helicopter, she’d been overawed by the glamour and completely unusual turn of events. But here, in a romantic, secluded restaurant, sitting across from one of the world’s wealthiest men—to say nothing of his personal charms and physical appeal—Alice’s pulse was trembling unstoppably.
‘Relax,’ he murmured, apparently intuiting her panic.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just not every day I get proposed to,’ she said with a sardonic smile.
‘But this is not a real proposal,’ he reminded her smoothly, his eyes intent on hers. ‘It is a business proposition.’
‘You’d know more about that than I do.’
He nodded. ‘Let me explain it for you,’ he offered. ‘Just like in business, we would have a contract to protect both of our interests.’
‘A pre-nuptial agreement?’
‘A divorce settlement,’ he corrected. ‘I would have our divorce papers confidentially drawn up and filed by my personal lawyer, on terms we will agree to now.’
‘What kind of terms?’ she asked quickly, her heart racing.
He examined her thoughtfully, then shrugged. ‘What would you like?’
Alice’s stomach swooped to her toes. ‘You want me to choose?’
‘In a negotiation, it is normal for one party to come in with a list of demands. You know what I need from you, so tell me, Alice, what do you need from me?’
She chewed on her lip, the possibilities endless. ‘I want not to worry about my mom,’ she said, simply. ‘She needs to be in a home. A good one. Somewhere with kind staff where she can be as…comfortable as possible.’ Alice’s voice cracked. ‘Somewhere I can go and see her often.’
Thanos nodded. ‘Fine. What else?’
It