Marriage Of Convenience: The Andreou Marriage Arrangement / The Replacement Wife. HELEN BIANCHIN

think you need food. Plus, I owe you, big time. Let’s do dinner…my treat.’

      Lacey laughed with delight. ‘Where?’

      ‘Your choice.’

      ‘Reckless. Definitely reckless.’ Lacey allowed a few seconds’ deliberation. ‘Italian. There’s this little restaurant that serves divine pasta to die for. It’s the other side of town.’

      Alesha rose to her feet and paid the tab. ‘Let’s go.’

      It became a wonderfully relaxing few hours as they enjoyed fine food, a glass of wine, reminisced and laughed.

      True friendship was something to be treasured, and Alesha entered her apartment at evening’s end with a lighter heart.

      The familiar nightmare came out of nowhere in the early pre-dawn hours, vivid, almost live in its intensity, and she woke breathing hard, her body soaked with sweat.

      She reached for the bedside lamp and the room glowed with light.

      Dear God.

      She lifted a hand to her face, almost expecting in that instant to feel the heat, the swelling, the pain. Except her cheeks were cool, and for several long moments she worked at slowing her breathing, her rapidly beating pulse.

      A silent voice prompted…You’re fine.

      In the here and now…and alone.

      With one smooth movement she cast aside the covers and padded out to the kitchen, brewed tea, then she subsided into a comfortable chair and channel-surfed until she found a comedy and didn’t move until the dawn gradually lightened the sky from indigo to pearl grey.

      Then she hit the shower and dressed. Breakfast was yoghurt and fruit with a reviving shot of caffeine, before she fixed her make-up, gathered her laptop, bag, keys, and drove into the city.

      Focus, concentrate on the day, Alesha urged as she rode the lift to the high floor housing Karsouli.

      As days went, this one soon became a doozy, with her PA calling in sick, the replacement hesitant to take any initiative, minor delays resulting therefrom, and a laptop that decided to crash at a crucial moment. Fortunately the auto-save function ensured only a small amount of data was lost, but it took time to get the system up and running again…time that became increasingly scarce as the day progressed.

      Consequently she skipped lunch, alternated coffee with bottled water, and made do with a banana mid-afternoon.

      Running on empty was not advisable, and coupled with loss of sleep it tipped her into headache territory with increasing intensity.

      At five she was tempted to give up, except another hour—two, tops—and she’d put the day’s work to bed. Given international time-zones, the data would be accessible, and any delay minimal.

      She was almost done when her cellphone buzzed, and she automatically picked up…something she rarely did without first checking caller ID.

      ‘Alesha.’

      There was no mistaking that deep, faintly accented voice. ‘Hi.’ As a greeting, it was sadly lacking.

      ‘I’m on my way up.’

      So he was back…and here. He’d said he’d call, but she hadn’t counted on seeing him. Nor did she expect the slow curling sensation to begin deep within.

      She wasn’t alone in the building…There would be others staying back catching up on work, the cleaning staff.

      Minutes later he was there, his tall frame filling the aperture, and unbidden her pulse kicked into a faster beat as he moved into her office.

      ‘Working late?’

      His voice was deceptively mild, his eyes faintly hooded as he took in her pale features, the dark circles beneath her eyes. She looked beat, almost fragile, and at a guess she was harbouring a headache.

      Alesha deliberately focused her attention on the computer screen. ‘And you’re here…why?’

      ‘I need to collect a file which hasn’t been uploaded into the computer system.’

      A mark against Dimitri’s recently reassigned PA?

      Her father had expected efficiency…but not to the level demanded beneath Loukas’ direction.

      ‘Tough day?’

      Like you wouldn’t believe. ‘I’m almost done.’

      ‘Good. You can share Chinese with me.’

      She lifted her head and saw the paper sack he placed on her desk. ‘You brought food?’ Her stomach did a slow roll in anticipatory pleasure.

      ‘I missed lunch.’ And opted out of an in-flight meal that failed to provide sufficient sustenance to fuel a minimum four hours’ work. Following an intense few days of meetings, staff reorganization, and ironing out several kinks in the Karsouli infrastructure.

      He thrived on brokering high-powered deals, but Karsouli was personal. Aware of the need for a different approach from the slash and burn techniques for which he’d gained a formidable reputation.

      The necessity to input a few hours’ work didn’t faze him. What he hadn’t expected to see when he entered the office building’s underground parking area was Alesha’s silver BMW stationary in its parking bay.

      Loukas heard her faint sigh as she hit save and closed down. With deft movements he snapped open the various containers and handed her a set of chopsticks.

      ‘Eat.’

      She did, with evident enjoyment. ‘Thanks. This is so much better than a boiled egg and salad.’

      ‘No girls’ night out?’

      ‘The male stripper called in sick.’ Her response was slick, and she was almost sure she caught a faint gleam of humour apparent in his dark eyes.

      ‘No replacement available?’

      ‘Unfortunately.’

      His presence unsettled her. There was something about him…a dangerous sexual chemistry combined with a primitive earthy quality that promised much.

      It filled her with a curious tension, combining reluctant anticipation with a sense of trepidation.

      Which seemed crazy. She didn’t even like him.

      Or was that due to an emotional shutdown…hers? A case of ‘if you don’t think about it, it won’t happen’.

      Some chance.

      She should leave.

      With that thought in mind, she gathered her jacket, her laptop and briefcase. ‘You have work to do.’

      He stood up. ‘I’ll see you down to the car.’

      ‘That’s not necessary.’

      He merely slanted an eyebrow and indicated she precede him. ‘I consider it is.’

      She was tempted to argue. Instead she summoned a sweet smile. ‘How…’ she paused, then added with delicate intent ‘…kind.’

      Her eyes widened as he trailed light fingers down her cheek in an unexpected gesture that stole the breath from her throat.

      ‘Get some sleep.’ Then he dropped his hand, and she stood still for a few heart-stopping seconds before brushing past him.

      Thankfully the lift doors opened the instant she pressed the call-button, and she moved in ahead of him, then stood in silence as the cubicle transported them swiftly down to basement level.

      It took only minutes to reach her car, and she released the locking mechanism, slid behind the wheel, engaged the ignition and drove towards the ramp leading to street level without a backwards glance.

      Traffic in the