Wedding Party Collection: Here Comes The Groom. Rebecca Winters

and it shows.”

      “What it does is make me different from all the other women,” she defended. “One day he’s going to take notice.”

      “Let’s hope it happens before he marries one of his own kind to produce an heir who’ll inherit his fortune. He’s not getting any younger, you know.”

      A familiar pain pierced her heart. “Thank you for playing on my greatest fear.”

      “But you love me anyway for telling you the truth.”

      She bit her lip. “He has a nephew he loves like a son. Mrs. Landau once told me Dimitrios’s brother died, so he took over the guardianship of his nephew. There’s this look he gets on his face whenever Leon calls him from Greece.”

      “Well, then—” He fastened her hair in a secure twist. “I guess you have no worries he’s anxious to start a family of his own.”

      “Oh, stop!”

      He grinned, eyeing her from the darkened roots of her head to the matronly black shoes she wore on her feet.

      “Only your hairdresser knows for sure. I must say I did a good job when I transformed you.”

      “It doesn’t suit you to be modest, Michael. Why not admit you created a masterpiece.”

      Thanks to his expertise in doing hair and makeup for a lot of his friends in the theater, he’d come up with a disguise that made her look like a nondescript secretary much older than her twenty-five years.

      “Possibly,” he quipped. “However, I may have gone too far when I suggested those steel-rimmed glasses you wear. You could walk on the set of a World War Two film being produced as we speak and fit right in.”

      “That’s been the idea all along. You know I’m indebted to you.” She handed him a hundred-dollar bill, which he refused.

      “We worked out a deal, remember? In return for some free hair appointments, my friends and I get to stay free at your hotel suite in Thessalonica during the fair.”

      She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about it and have decided I’m getting the better end of that deal.”

      He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do you even know how much a suite in that place costs for one night?”

      “No.”

      “I guess you don’t have to know when you’re the private secretary of Dimitrios Pandakis. Oh, if the rest of the world had any idea how you really live these days,” he said dramatically.

      “You know I don’t care about that.”

      His expression grew serious for a moment. “Is it really worth it to be the bridesmaid, but never the bride?”

      He’d touched a painful nerve and knew it. “I can’t imagine not seeing him every day.”

      “You’re hopeless, darling.”

      “Tell me about it.” She got out of the chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “See you in Greece next week.”

      “We’re coming as Mysian troubadours. Are you sure I can’t bring you a costume along with his? There’s this marvelous gold affair—Italian renaissance. I can borrow it from the opera company.”

      She shook her head. “Ms. Hamilton doesn’t do costumes. It’s not in her character.”

      “Pity.”

      Alex chuckled. “Have a safe trip over, Michael.”

      “You mean with three hundred of us on our charter flight squashed like Vienna sausages in the can? Lucky you, riding in the Pandakis private jet.”

      “I’ll admit that part’s nice. Bye for now.”

      She left the salon, grateful that the disguise Michael had created for her had worked perfectly during the four years she’d been in Dimitrios’s employ. She’d won the man’s confidence. But the thought that it was all she might ever win from him wasn’t to be considered.

      As for her other fear, it was foolish to worry that when she arrived in Greece, Giorgio Pandakis might recognize her from the past. Not when Dimitrios had never shown any signs of remembering.

      Nine years was too long a time for a man who’d been drunk to recall accosting an unsuspecting sixteen-year-old girl. Thankfully someone had been outside the silk museum in Paterson that night looking for him and had heard her screams.

      Alex could still see her protector’s face as it had appeared in the shadowy moonlight. Like a dark, avenging prince, Dimitrios Pandakis himself had pulled his cousin off her before knocking him to the ground, unconscious.

      Assisting her to her feet, he’d told her he would help her press charges if she wanted him to. Alex, who stood there on trembling legs thankful for deliverance, had been shocked that he would defend an anonymous teenage girl over his cousin.

      Dimitrios didn’t accuse her of encouraging the situation. He didn’t try to pay her off. He showed no fear of the scandal that would naturally ensue once her father heard about it. With a name as famous as Pandakis, that kind of news would make headlines. Yet he’d been willing to put his family through embarrassment for her sake.

      In that moment, she loved him.

      Once her sobs began to subside, she assured him it wouldn’t be necessary to call in the police. He’d come to her rescue before things had gone too far. All she wanted was to forget it had ever happened.

      After thanking him again for saving her, she ran off across the garden to her house, clutching the torn pieces of the silk blouse to her chest.

      Just before she disappeared around the corner, she watched him throw his loathsome cousin over his shoulder with the ease only a tall, powerful man possessed.

      Her green eyes stayed fastened on him until she couldn’t see the outline of his silhouette any longer. But even if he’d gone, the man was unforgettable.

      By the time she climbed into bed that night she determined that one day, when she was older, they would meet again. It would be under vastly different circumstances, of course. And no matter what it took, she’d make certain he found her unforgettable, too.

      As Dimitrios buttoned his shirt, he heard a rap on his bedroom door. Assuming it was Serilda, the housekeeper who’d been like a favorite aunt since he was a little boy, he told her to come in.

      The door opened, but the usual burst of information about the weather and the state of the world wasn’t forthcoming.

      Unless she’d sent a maid to him with coffee and rolls, it wouldn’t be anyone else but his nephew.

      Dimitrios felt great love for the twenty-two-year old whose build and mannerisms were a constant reminder of Leonides Pandakis, Dimitrios’s deceased elder brother.

      By some miracle, his pregnant bride survived the car crash that took Leonides’s life on their honeymoon. Their unborn child, christened Leon at birth, had also been spared.

      Like his father, he was a happy boy with a friendly, outgoing nature. A typical teen with his share of problems, he’d survived those years and had grown into a fine young man who was halfway through his university studies and showed a healthy enthusiasm for life. Or so Dimitrios had thought.

      But since Dimitrios’s return from China yesterday, he’d seen a big change in his nephew. Normally Leon sought his company at the slightest opportunity, giving him chapter and verse of anything and everything happening in his world.

      This time he’d only greeted his uncle with a hug, then disappeared from the villa without a word of explanation. It was totally unlike him. Dimitrios had glimpsed shadows in the brown eyes he’d inherited from his mother.

      Something was wrong, of course. He hoped it wasn’t serious. Maybe now he’d find out.

      “You’re up early, Leon,”