Page 1 of Rumours Behind the Greek's Wedding
CHAPTER ONE
‘BONSOIR, CHARITONENDEAVOURS.’
‘I will speak with Célia d’Argent.’
‘May I ask who’s calling?’
‘You canwarnher that it’s Loukis Liordis.’
‘Consider her warned. What can I do for youthis time, Mr Liordis?’
Only a brief pause hinted at any semblance of recognition from her client. And Célia d’Argentmeantrecognition. For Liordis would never lower himself to feel as human an emotion as contrition. If anything, the small moment had been one of reprimand, one that hinted it should have been forherto feel contrite. And normally Célia would be mortified to utter such a response. But this wasn’t such an occasion. Loukis Liordis, Greek billionaire, renowned playboy and presently the biggest pain in her neck, had driven Célia beyond the brink of her usually impeccable civility.
‘You answer your own phone?’ he demanded as if such a thing should have been beneath her.
‘I do when it is nine thirty at night, Mr Liordis.’
‘What has that to do with anything?’
The absolute gall of the man!
Célia glared at her reflection in the windows of her office. Loukis might have been their first client, and might be the reason why she and her business partner Ella Riding had been able to achieve the success that they had enjoyed in the last few months, but that didn’t mean she had to like him, or jump to his every command. Just the majority of them.
‘You can explain to me how it is that you have spectacularly failed to deliver on your promise, Mademoiselle d’Argent.’
Célia frowned, mentally scanning through the lists of current events they had planned for him. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean, Mr Lio—’
‘I will speak with Ella, then.’
Célia ground her teeth, not caring whether he heard the sound through the phone or not. She hated that his words had spread anxiety through her chest. Hated that her pulse was beginning to speed up and a wave of insecurity threatened to overwhelm her.
‘I am afraid that is not possible.’
‘Why not?’
‘As I have explained—’many, many times‘—Ella is presently on maternity leave.’
‘Surely she is able to pick up a phone?’
‘No, Mr Liordis. She is not. Now, if you could, I would like the opportunity to hear your concerns.’ She wouldn’t, of course. It was late, she hadn’t even had dinner, and the hastily consumed half-lunch was now a distant memory.
‘My concern is that you have not fulfilled your obligation.’
‘Which obligation are we speaking of?’
‘The one that would restore my reputation, Ms d’Argent.’
Célia dropped into the soft leather chair that was her favourite piece of office furniture and swirled round to her computer, absolutely speechless.
‘You have nothing to say?’
‘Forgive me, I was just checking the letterhead of our company stationery. At no point or place does it say that we are in the reputation business. Our role is—’
‘I know what your role is, and don’t be crass, Ms d’Argent. Ella—and by extension I presume you—knew exactly why it was that I signed on with your company. And the resulting publicity from my first event with your company was not positive.’
‘I appreciate that. I do. While the charity event backed by you and your company has given the Erythra Foundation the ability to do some incredible things in the future, personally for you, it has perhaps not gone as well as we had envisaged. Quite possibly down to the fact that you did not deem it important enough to make an appearance.’
The line went completely quiet. Icy. Frigid even. And Célia suddenly realised that she had gone too far. It was not for her to question her client. No. The headlines following the event had done that well enough. That she and they appeared aligned in the belief that he had, once again, found himself in bed with his ladydu jour—a lady probably of statuesque physique, impeccable proportions and in all likelihood platinum blonde—was neither here nor there.