Bride by Day. Rebecca Winters

it was only a short half hour later that she heard a knock on her apartment door, and jerked to a sitting position. But Perseus was faster and had opened it before she could get up from the couch. “Kalispera, Arianna,” she heard him say.

      The dark-haired, middle-aged woman answered, “Gia sas, Kyrie Kostopoulos.” She was holding a huge sack, yet even from the distance, Sam could detect a delicious aroma filling the room which made her mouth water. She couldn’t remember the last time anything had smelled so good.

      “Efcharisto.”

      Except for that last word which she’d figured out meant, “thank you,” Sam didn’t understand the rest of their conversation before the woman went away again, leaving the two of them alone once more.

      “Arianna is the best cook in New York. Tonight we will enjoy mincemeat kebab and baby lamb, roasted with tomato and cheese. For dessert, galato bouriko, a sinful custard pastry I promise you’ll enjoy.”

      Sam’s eyes widened in surprise as he handed her a heaping plate of food. “Everything looks wonderful.”

      “It is. But later, when we reach Serifos, and you taste my housekeeper Maria’s cooking, then you will know the true meaning of ambrosia.”

      Her heart did a queer little thump, and the first bite of lamb never reached her mouth. “What do you mean, when we reach Serifos?”

      He had already made huge inroads into his food. Without meeting her gaze he said, “The gods didn’t smile kindly on you after all. Because you stole something from my office that wasn’t yours, you must make restitution.”

      His words were delivered in such a silky tone, it took a second before she understood their thrust.

      Here she’d been praying that Perseus wouldn’t walk out of her life. Now it seemed she might be granted her wish. But wasn’t there an old Spanish proverb somewhere that said, Beware lest you get what you asked of God?

      She started to grow nervous and lost what little appetite she had.

      “It’s more than probable that my fiancée. who has returned to Serifos after a twenty year absence with the sole intent of marrying the heartbroken fiancé of her youth, hoped to reach me by phone and beg my forgiveness before we saw each other again.

      “I’ve decided that I’m glad I couldn’t return her call after all. Bringing you back to Serifos as my wife will speak more eloquently than any words I might have said to her.

      When all danger has passed, you will be freed to continue with the rest of your life. Be assured, thespinis, your nights will be your own. You will only have to act the part of my bride, by day.”

      Bride by day?

      He actually planned to use Sam as a pawn to help him face his adored fiancée? Apparently the woman presented so great a danger to his peace of mind, he’d even used the word with Sam.

      At such a ludicrous, preposterous idea, Sam should have been laughing hysterically. Or throwing the kebabs in his face... But neither reaction surfaced. Rather, a strange ache had entered her heart as she watched him absently rubbing an index finger over his scar. She wondered if it still hurt him after all this time...

      What kind of a woman was this fiancée who held him in thrall to the point that he’d never remarried or stopping trying to find her, even though she’d done such a horrific thing to him?

      Was he truly so frightened he might fall under her spell again, he would turn to a total stranger and marry her in his desperation to combat his beloved’s attractions?

      Sam couldn’t imagine a love like that or comprehend it, and decided she didn’t want to know.

      But a little voice deep inside called her a liar for not owning up to the truth. Just once in her life, Sam had to admit she’d like to know how it felt to be the sum total of a man’s existence.

      Liar, the voice whispered again. Not just any man. Face it, Samantha Telford. You’ll probably never see him again, but by some error in the cosmos, Perseus Kostopoulos has crossed your path, and given you the once-in-a-billion chance opportunity to remain in his life for a little longer. As his wife!

      Isn’t that what you wanted?

      “For a woman who is never without words, your speechless state is extremely gratifying because it means you haven’t rejected my decision out of hand. That’s good, since the alternative would be that you come live with me, not as my wife, but my pillow friend.”

      Her cheeks flushed. “You mean, your mistress.”

      “I would treat you exactly the same way, but I’m afraid the world would not be as charitable to you, if you follow my meaning.”

      She was very much afraid that she did. Living with Perseus under those conditions would be tantamount to destroying her good name and reputation. Being his wife would be an entirely different proposition.

      “Of course to make this more palatable for you, I’m prepared to grant you the three wishes of your heart. You have only to voice them to realize your wildest dreams.”

      Her eyes narrowed provocatively. She was feeling as capricious and daring as the moment afforded. The corner of her mouth lifted. “My wildest dreams?”

      It was beyond her wildest imagination—let alone her dreams—to be sitting in her tiny apartment a few feet away from the renowned and breathtaking Perseus Kostopoulos, having just heard him propose marriage to her, no matter his not-so-secret agenda.

      “Three wishes, you say?”

      A trick of light made his eyes seem even blacker and more mysterious. “As my closest friends will attest, once made, I never go back on a bargain.”

      She could believe it.

      “Well, that’s easy. For one, I’ve always wished I had enough money to give every deserving, struggling artist at the university a free stipend so he only had to work at one job instead of two or three, in order to afford college.”

      “Done,” came the pronouncement, as if from on high. “Since I’d already planned to purchase your art project and have it hung in a place of honor in the foyer of my building, I’ll contact Dr. Giddings and establish a perpetual fund in your name which he can administer to needy, deserving art students.”

      The idea that he planned to buy her collage and put it on display almost made her plate of food fall off her lap onto the couch. But to think what such a monetary gift would mean to impoverished students...

      “You’d really do that?” Sam cried out in unabashed astonishment.

      “What’s your second wish?” he continued in the same vein, completely ignoring her outburst.

      He was sitting on the rickety chair he’d carried from the corner and placed opposite the couch, calmly finishing a second helping of lamb.

      Her second wish. It was really her first, but at his suggestion, she’d wanted to propose the most outrageous demand she could think of.

      Just remembering her hard working, courageous mother made her eyes cloud over. She bit her lip to put a brake on her emotions.

      “When Mom died, I didn’t have the money to fly her to Cheyenne, Wyoming. She was born there and ought to have been buried in the family plot. I designed a headstone I wanted to have erected to her memory, but it was too costly to have made.”

      “Done,” he came back again in a low, solemn tone. “Remember that you only have one more wish. It must be something you want for yourself.”

      Her third wish.

      Sam eyed him covertly. This was only a game.

      She had no intention of acting on any of it.

      “To have the time and luxury to create beautiful designs for cloth, ceramic tiles and fine-boned china which other people will clamor to buy.”

      “Done.”