The older woman stood in the cabin doorway, her face carefully neutral. But Leonidas had worked with her long enough to read the subtle signs. The tension around her eyes. The way her hands clasped in front of her, just a fraction too tightly.
She knew where he’d been. Of course she knew.
“It’s fine, Mrs. Sanchez.” He loosened his tie as he climbed the stairs. “You can stop pretending.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” The words were stiff, formal.
“This is the last time I’ll be flying to Milan for personal reasons.”
“I’m still not sure—” Mrs. Sanchez’s eyes widened as the meaning behind the words finally penetrated. Her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise. “Oh my word. Oh finally. You’ve come to your senses.”
“So you were pretending then?”
Mrs. Sanchez pretended not to hear this and instead pulled out her phone with the kind of determined efficiency she usually reserved for hostile takeover negotiations.
“This is Mrs. Sanchez, assistant to Leonidas Gazis. Yes, I’d like to order two dozen red roses, please.” She glanced at her boss, eyes slightly damp. “Delivery to the Park Hyatt New York. Penthouse suite. Within the hour if possible.”
She heard her billionaire boss chuckle—a low, rusty sound, as if he’d forgotten how—and the sound had her furiously blinking back tears.
Christmas had come early this year.
And she could not wait to see just how delighted her young mistress would be once she found out that her husband and his mistress were no more.
Part Two
