The Greek Tycoon's Lover (4 page)

It was too much, she thought. She tightened the belt of her robe and marched out, intending to order him out of her house. But the smell that greeted her when she stepped out of her bedroom stopped her in her tracks. It was mouth wateringly delicious.

“Good,” he said, spotting her from the stove which was near the kitchen doorway. “Dinner is ready. I hope you don’t mind but I made enough for myself.” He brought two plates out to the family room and handed one to her, then led her over to the sofa to sit. “I’ve poured the wine already, so eat up.” He handed her a glass of rich, red wine, then took a seat opposite her.

“This smells wonderful,” she said tentatively. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“I snuck into the kitchens as a boy and would steal food from the cook. Finally, out of desperation, the man gave in and showed me how to make my favorite meals. That way, I could simply get what I wanted instead of stealing what he was trying to make for dinner that night.”

Helen laughed, enchanted by the picture of a little version of Dimitri sneaking to get food. “I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a cook.” He had probably been an adorable little boy with all the charm he currently had, with mischievous eyes and the humor of youth.

“Was your mother a good cook?” he asked.

Helen shook her head. “Goodness no. She was too busy fighting one cause after another,” she said. “My mother was a teacher and was always taking up some sort of cause. It might have been a stray animal or a kid in trouble but we always had appointments or banners to make, charities to run, or something crazy going on.”

“What happened to you?”

“I was dragged all over the place saving trees and bugs and whatever was the latest cause du jour,” she laughed.

He smiled slightly. “Sounds like an interesting life,” he said. “How’s the dinner?”

Helen took another bite of the tender chicken in a lemon, butter sauce. “This is very good. I’m impressed. I wouldn’t think a man of your size and position would be able to cook this well.”

“I don’t get a chance to do it often, but I like it whenever the opportunity arises.”

“Well, please feel free to do so anytime with me,” she said, then realized what she’d said. “I mean…well…I know you’re very busy,” she stammered. She felt foolish offering to allow this man to cook for her. “I’m sorry, I mean I know you’re busy and don’t have time for cooking…” she trialed off.

He smiled at her stammering but wouldn’t save her. “I’d love to cook for you whenever you’d like it,” he said and took a sip of wine. “Just say the word.”

Helen smiled back nervously, then looked down at her plate. “What are your parents like?” she asked, hoping to change the subject and cover her little social gaffe.

“They are nice. My father is like me, I guess. My mother is nice.”

Helen laughed. “You’re one of the wealthiest families in Europe and yet you describe your mother and father as just nice? I’m guessing they have more dominating personalities, something that would elicit a different adjective from others.”

“My mother is extremely nice,” he laughed. “Believe me, she’s not like other society wives.”

Helen sensed that there was more to his comment than he was going to say. “What do you mean?” she dared to ask.

“Not many society marriages are good,” he said. “My parents are different. They love each other very much. My marriage will be the same,” he said, his gaze never leaving her face.

Her stomach flipped and her heart ached painfully at his statement. She hated the idea of him marrying someone. It would probably be someone tall and blond with a perfect figure, just like the women he currently dated. They were perfect and would fit into his world perfectly and give him lots of beautiful children. “That’s very honorable of you.”

His next words only confirmed that there would be no way Helen could fit into his world in any way. “It has nothing to do with honor. I believe a good marriage raises strong, healthy children. It’s essential to build a family.”

Helen’s throat constricted and put down her fork, scrambling for some way to ease the pressure. “I agree,” was all she could say. She took a long swallow of wine and fought back the emotions welling up inside her chest. Life wasn’t always fair and not everyone got what they wanted. But over the years, she had made hers bearable, she reminded herself.

“The ships that are almost completed,” she started off, changing the subject to something more mundane and less emotionally charged. They spoke of business for the rest of the meal and by the time Dimitri stood up to leave, she had better control of herself. She was able to politely walk him to the door and even stand there while he looked down at her face without cringing when he asked, “Are you going to be okay? Do you need to take some time off tomorrow?”

“No, really,” she hurried to add. “I’m fine. Really.” Helen didn’t want him to think a few rude comments could hurt her so completely. He was strong and she had to show him her own strength. She didn’t want to be perceived as some sappy personal assistant with personal issues. It wasn’t good for one’s career, and really, when it all came down to it, that’s all she had; a great, satisfying career. One she wasn’t going to throw away simply because a few senseless females had spoken some painful truths.

Helen closed the door when she could no longer see his brake lights down the street. She quickly loaded the dishwasher with the plates and glasses, feeling a pang of something painful in her stomach as she looked at the two sets of dishes. Normally, it took her a long time to fill up the dishwasher, since she only had her own lonely plate to clean. Tonight, with all the pots and pans Dimitri had used to make dinner, it was practically full. That had never happened before, she thought.

Wandering into her bedroom, she carefully hung up her suit and tossed her underwear into the laundry basket, tidying up her small house. What was she doing with her life? Where was she going?

As she looked around her tiny house filled with only her things, she knew she was heading down a path that had never been her dream. She loved her job, but did she have to become the boring, staid woman while acting and looking professional? She surveyed her face in the mirror as she brushed her teeth and washed her face that night. Her skin was nice, she knew but her lips were definitely too full. Her eyes were passably pretty with the dark blue irises, but she’d always wished she had something more exciting for eye color. Perhaps a chocolate brown or a crystal green? Sighing, she put her toothbrush down and turned quickly away from her image, frustrated that she was hoping for something she could never have.

She discarded the silk robe in favor of a soft, cotton nightgown that came up to her neck with a small little collar. The neckline had tiny little rosebuds embroidered on it and her feet were tucked into fluffy pink slippers. She grimaced as she rinsed out her mouth and shook her head.

“Image,” she told her reflection. “I need to change my image.”

She lay in bed that night and considered her position. She was single but didn’t want to stay that way. She was in love with her boss, but
definitely
didn’t want that emotion to remain. That way only led to heartache and she wasn’t foolish enough to wish something could change in that direction. Besides, even if she could become the sophisticated woman that might catch Dimitri’s eye, he was Greek. He could never marry someone with her history. It was simply impossible. His comments at dinner tonight only reinforced that point.

So what was the next option? She had to fall out of love with Dimitri and find someone else. But how does one go about doing that? How does she find someone who might be interested in her? And just as Barbara said, Dimitri wanted a woman who knew what she was doing sexually. Helen had no idea what she was doing or how to make a move on a man. She’d had no time to date throughout high school, with her parents’ busy schedule of causes and in college, she’d been too busy trying to work and pay for her education since her parents’ salaries as teachers couldn’t help much in that direction. So here she was at twenty six with many questions, but no one to ask.

Helen rolled over onto her stomach and punched her pillow. Looking out the window at the rain streaming down steadily against the panes, she thought about her life. She had to stop wearing boring clothes. That was a given. She’d never get any man’s attention looking like an ancient grandma. Next, she’d have to get some sexual experience. Barbara was probably right. No man wanted to have a virgin in his bed. She wasn’t sure, but she suspected that most men would want someone who knew what they were doing. She could feel her face turn red in the darkness as she considered her options for getting some experience. Basically, they were non-existent at this point in her life but that was going to have to change.

In the early hours of the morning, she finally fell asleep but dreamed of wearing a bright red dress and turning to Dimitri, her smile sultry and promising everything, her eyes showing him that she truly was the woman of his dreams.

Helen woke up late the following morning and rushed around, frantically trying to get her mind off of her dream. It had been very vivid, with Dimitri touching her everywhere. Each time she thought about it, she started blushing.

She surveyed her clothing options and was dismayed to realize that none of the clothes in her closet had any femininity to them. The suits ranged from black, brown and navy with varying shades of each. She wore a cream or white silk shirt underneath all of them.

And there were no alternatives.

Sighing heavily, she took out the least severe and held it up against her reflection. No other choice, she thought and hurriedly dressed then pulled her hair back into the bun she wore it in each day.

After waking up late, the day just got worse and worse. Since she was so late, she had to hurry to the bus stop only to miss it at the last moment. Hiking through the rain, her heavy bag slung over one shoulder and her umbrella in the other hand, she walked the half mile to the subway station in her heels, the sides biting painfully into her tender skin. Once down on the crowded train, she wished she had a car, one that was reliable so she could avoid this kind of daily irritation. But that was for another day, she thought as the train opened up and she walked through the wet, dismal streets to the office.

Helen walked in to find Dimitri already in a meeting and she grimaced as she pulled the notes she’d compiled for him out of her desk drawer. How could she have forgotten to give these to him last night?

The pace was frantic that day. It seemed as if every project that had been initiated months ago was ending today and urgently needed review and approval. She was fielding phone calls, processing requests and summarizing contract documents as fast as she could. By seven o’clock, she was exhausted. Dimitri was still working but she simply couldn’t face anything else at this moment. She remembered that he had asked her to stop into his office before leaving, but when she listened at the doorway, it didn’t seem as if his current meeting was going to end anytime soon.

She turned off her computer and pulled on her rain coat, depressed even more with the idea of walking home in rain that had been falling almost all day.

As soon as she stepped out into the street, a car drove past, sloshing cold water all over her legs and the hem of her skirt. Staring down at the wet mess, her shoulders drooped and she trudged home grimly. The only way she was able to make it all the way without breaking down and blowing money on a cab ride was the idea of stopping to get a bottle of red wine at the little corner store in her neighborhood and savoring the rich taste in front of the fire. She’d spend her money on a good bottle of wine, not on a cab ride.

With the bottle tucked under her arm, she walked the final block home. Dropping her sopping raincoat and umbrella in the small mud room off her kitchen, she stripped off her clothes on her way to the bathroom, uncaring of where they landed as long as the cold, wet material was no longer against her skin. In the kitchen, she grabbed a wine glass on her way but didn’t even bother with a sandwich for dinner, too tired and depressed to think about eating anything. She only paused to turn on some music. A soft jazz CD playing in the background had her dancing slightly as she unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it onto the floor, her lacy bra following. Her skirt made it onto the sofa but her stockings were stomped on when she dropped them onto the floor. Helen had no idea, nor cared, where her underwear landed. All she cared about was stepping into the tub and not feeling the frustrations of the past two days.

The bathtub filled up quickly and Helen pulled the pins out of her hair, letting the long brown tresses hang down her back. Feeling instantly better, she poured herself a glass of wine, poured in some bubbles, then sank slowly into the warm water, not even waiting for the tub to fill up.

As the water and wine relaxed her, Helen allowed her eyes to drift closed. Slowly, the tension in her shoulders and back uncoiled and the tension eased. She drained her glass and poured another, feeling very relaxed now.

The knocking on her door roused her slightly but she wasn’t expecting anyone, so she assumed the person had arrived at the wrong house and would eventually figure it out. But the knocking persisted and she sat up in the tub. Dripping wet, she slid the robe on, then stopped to pour herself another glass of wine. She swayed slightly when she walked but didn’t care. She wasn’t feeling the stress or anger anymore, and that had been the plan. Mission accomplished, she told herself, raising her glass in a mock salute. She suspected she had a silly grin on her face as well but didn’t stop to look in the mirror since she couldn’t focus on her image anyway. The two glasses of wine had made the world very soft and fuzzy.