The Giannakis Bride (13 page)

“I’ll take you sailing one of these days, when things settle down a bit,” he promised. “As they presently stand, though, I’d just as soon be on dry land and able to get to the clinic in a hurry if I need to.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “I understand perfectly.”

“We’ll have a good life, Brianna. You won’t regret marrying me.”

And that was when the evening fell apart. An older couple, passing by on their way to join a large party at the next table, recognized his voice and stopped. “
Dimitrios
?” the woman said.

In less time than it took to blink, all the warmth and animation in his face drained away. “Hermione,” he returned stiffly, half-rising to his feet in a reluctant show of courtesy. “
Mihalis
,” he added, acknowledging the man with a nod so brief, he might as well not have bothered.

“
Yios
.” The man’s eyes, black as coal but with none of its inherent propensity for warmth, skimmed over Brianna. Switching to heavily accented English, he said, “Did I just hear you say you’re getting married again?”

“That’s right.”

“And this is your future wife?”

“Right again.”

“So history repeats itself, right down to an exact replica of the original bride. We had heard Cecily’s twin was in town and now we know why. Let’s hope you don’t drive her to an early grave, as well.”

Dimitrios
grew so forbiddingly still, he might have been turned to stone. The woman, Hermione, however, let out a shocked, “
Mihalis
!”

Mihalis
silenced her with a quelling glare and turned a cheerless smile on Brianna. “Our deepest sympathies, my dear, and all the luck in the world. I’m afraid you’re going to need it.” Then, overriding his companion’s visible distress, he led her away.

Unmoving,
Dimitrios
watched them leave, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes stormy, his face the color of old parchment except for two faint strips of color riding his high cheekbones, and his entire body vibrating with rage.

“
Dimitrios
,” Brianna whispered urgently, “who were those people?”

Very slowly he uncurled his fingers, expelled a long breath and resumed his seat. He raised his eyes to hers.

“My parents,” he said.

He’d shocked her, as he’d known he would. Her lovely mouth fell open before she could bring it under control and press it closed again. “Your parents?
Dimitrios
, you told me they were dead!”

“No,” he said. “I told you I have no family but Poppy, and nor do I.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You just said that man is your father.”

“A biological error on his part, I’m sure.”

“He spoke as if he hates you!”

“That’s because he does.”

“But if he’s your father! And what about your poor mother…?” Eyes clouded with dismay, she fumbled for her water glass. “I thought she was going to burst into tears.”

“But she didn’t,” he said. “She behaved exactly as she’s always behaved around him. Like a downtrodden wife with no right to her own opinions or feelings. I can only suppose she enjoys being molded to the underside of his heel. Eat your fish, Brianna. It’s growing cold.”

She pushed her plate aside, the grilled red mullet barely touched. “I’ve just lost my appetite.”

“Would you like to order something else? Dessert, perhaps? They make a wonderful almond brandy cake here.”

“No. I’d like you to explain what just happened.”

“I’d have thought that was self-evident.”

“Stop stonewalling,
Dimitrios
,” she snapped, displaying exactly the kind of fire and spirit his mother had never dared fling at his father. “I’m not some stranger poking my nose in where it doesn’t belong, I’m the woman you say you want as your wife, and if that’s the case, I deserve to know what I’m letting myself in for.”

She was right, of course. An explanation wasn’t just in order, it was overdue, and better she hear it from him than someone else. “
Endaxi
. Okay.” Abandoning his own meal—he’d lost his taste for his grilled octopus, too. His father tended to have that effect on people—he said, “How about coffee and brandy first?”

“Coffee would be nice, but I’ll pass on the brandy. You go ahead, though.”

He waited until they’d been served, and rolled a mouthful of the very excellent
Metaxa
Golden Reserve over his palate to erase the lingering aftereffects of his father. “So what would you like to know?”

“Everything,” she said promptly.

“Well, you’re already aware, of course, that I’m filthy rich.”

“Not that it matters to me one way or the other,” she said dryly, “but yes, I have noticed.”

“So has
Mihalis
. And that’s the problem.”

“He didn’t look to me as if he’s suffering any. The diamond in his pinky ring just about blinded me.”

“Ah, but what galls him is that if my tastes also ran to gaudy, ostentatious jewelry, I could afford a bigger, better, flashier diamond than his.”

Again she shook her head. “I’m not following you,
Dimitrios
. This isn’t about jewelry, so why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what’s really going on?”

“All right. My father made his first million when he was twenty-one. By the time I was born, eight years later, he’d increased that amount ten times over, and I grew up watching him wield his assets like a weapon to control everyone around him. I saw my mother change from a vivacious, beautiful woman to a passive, listless creature unable to decide what color shoes to wear, without consulting him first. I grew to despise him and pity her, and I’m not sure which I found more distasteful.”

“Your mother struck me as a very gentle soul,
Dimitrios
,” Brianna said softly, “and from the little I saw, I think it breaks her heart that she’s alienated from you.”

“That’s her choice.”

“Perhaps, but it’s a choice no woman should have to make. Is there no possibility of a reconciliation between you?”

“Not as long as my father’s alive. He’d never permit it.”

“Why not? Surely he must be proud of you? You’re smart, successful, respected.”

“Despite him, not because of him, and that’s the real problem in a nutshell, Brianna. I learned at a very early age that there are no free lunches with my father. Sooner or later, for every so-called ‘favor’ he conferred, he’d present me with a bill which was more than I was prepared to pay. So I severed the family ties and struck out on my own.”

“I’d have thought that would make him proud of you.”

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,
karthula
mou
! Certain I couldn’t possibly succeed without the almighty
Mihalis
Poulos
to back me, he waited for me to fail and come crawling back to him.”

“
Poulos
? Where did
Giannakis
come from?”

“My maternal grandmother. I changed my name when I turned eighteen. Anyhow, when I proved him wrong and succeeded past anything he ever envisioned, he punished me by becoming my biggest, most ferocious business competitor who’d strip me of every euro I own if he could.”

“Obviously, he hasn’t succeeded.”

“Fortunately not. My brain is even more agile than his and I remain one step ahead of him at all times.”

“Then you can afford to be generous and drop a vendetta which serves no purpose except to hurt your mother.”

“I could.” He swirled the brandy in its glass and took another mouthful. “But I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m a proud man, Brianna,” he said flatly. “I don’t beg, I don’t forgive easily, and I never forget.”

She regarded him pensively a moment. “What about Poppy? Doesn’t she deserve to know her grandparents?”

The old, familiar rage rose up, turning the brandy sour in his stomach. “You just saw the kind of man my father is. Do you really think he gives a rat’s ass about my child?”

“He never goes to see her? Never asks about her?”

“Never.”

“Your mother, either?”

He let out a bark of laughter as bitter as bile. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said, Brianna? My mother daren’t even sneeze without his say-so.”

“I don’t understand any of this.” She slumped in her seat, the picture of dejection. “Families are supposed to unite in times of trouble. Look how it brought us together again.”

“You have a heart, Brianna. Underneath my reputedly hard-bitten, ruthless tycoon exterior, so do I. I can’t say the same for my father.”

“Even hard-bitten, ruthless tycoons are supposed to be putty in the hands of their grandchildren.”

“In an ideal world, maybe. Not in mine.”

She bit her lip. “No wonder you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him,” he was quick to reply. “I refuse to expend the energy it would take. I simply ignore him.”

As though to put the lie to his claim, a burst of laughter at his parents’ table rolled through the room, and glancing over, he found his father’s malevolent gaze fixed on him and Brianna. She noticed it, too, and flinched.

Once upon a time, in his reckless youth, he’d have reacted by hurling himself across the room and smashing his fist into that sneering face. Now he contented himself by trading stare for stare and said evenly, “Don’t let him upset you, my darling. He’s not worth it. Would you like more coffee, or something a bit stronger to get rid of the bad taste he’s left in your mouth?”

She shook her head miserably. “If you don’t mind,
Dimitrios
, I’d really like to get out of here.”

“Of course.” Reaching for her hand, he brought it to his lips. Across the room, his father watched, his lip curled in amused disdain.

While
Dimitrios
signed for the meal, Brianna escaped to the ladies’ room and sank down on the bench before the mirrored vanity. Her face stared back at her, pale and shocked.

She’d come across her fair share of jealousy and dislike over the years. Professional sabotage, even. In the competitive, unforgiving world of high fashion, success inevitably bred some resentment among those less fortunate. But never had she been the target of the kind of vitriolic loathing
Mihalis
Poulos
had leveled at his only son.

Dimitrios
was right, she decided, taking a tube of lip gloss from her purse. The man was toxic and the less they had to do with him, the better.

Just then the door opened and Hermione
Poulos
slipped into the room. Since they were the only two women present, there was no possible way Brianna could pretend she hadn’t seen her. But nor was there any point in lingering and making a tense situation worse, so capping her lip gloss, she dropped it back in her purse and stood up to leave.

Hermione, though, prevented her with an urgent hand on her arm. “
Parakalo
,
Despinis
Connelly,” she practically whimpered, her big brown eyes filled with pleading, “may I have a word?”

Loyalty to
Dimitrios
told Brianna she should refuse and keep going, but short of pushing the poor woman aside, she had little choice but to stop. “I don’t see that we have anything to say to one another, Mrs.
Poulos
. We certainly have nothing in common.”

“We both care deeply about my son, you as the woman who is to become his wife, and I as his mother.”

“I’m not sure he believes the latter.”

Hermione blinked back the tears welling in her eyes. “He has told you that we are estranged?”

“I more or less figured that out for myself, but yes, he elaborated on the story. We have no secrets from each other.”

“Then let me share another one with you that he might not be aware of. A father might qualify his love for his child, but a mother’s love is unconditional and eternal. She might not always approve of the things he does or the choices he makes, but she will always hold her child close in her heart.”

Not in my experience, Brianna thought.

“Perhaps,” Hermione concluded, “one day, my dear, you will discover that for yourself.”

Sympathy warring with impatience, Brianna said, “Why are you telling me this?
Dimitrios
is the one you should be talking to.”

“I would, if he would listen, but that’s not why I asked to speak with you.” Her thin, desperate fingers tightened around Brianna’s arm. “Tell me, please, how is Poppy? Will she ever be well again?”

“We’re hopeful that she will, yes.”

“She remains at the
Rosegarth
?”

“Yes.”

“I wish that I could see her.”

Impatience winning out over sympathy, Brianna said, “You could, if you chose, Mrs.
Poulos
. All you have to do is show up. There are no bars on her room. She’s in hospital, not prison.”

“
Mihalis
will not permit it.”

“Your husband can’t stop you, not if you really want to see her, so what you’re really saying is that pandering to him matters more to you than giving your sick little granddaughter an hour of your time.”