“Thank you.” I shook his hand, refusing to let him see how rattled I was. “This is my husband, Aristides Christakis.”
Bronson’s eyebrows shot up as he shook Aris’s hand. “White and Christakis? Interesting. Your wife didn’t take your name?”
“My wife, she can call herself whatever she likes. Her name, it does not change who she belongs to.” His smile was pleasant, but his face was steel. “Besides, in Greece, women, they keep their family names.”
“Of course.” Bronson’s smile didn’t seem genuine. “Any relation to Leon Christakis? We’ve worked with his company on several campaigns in New York. Brilliant businessman.”
Aris stiffened beside me, though his expression remained pleasant. “My uncle’s son, yes. We are no contact.”
Right. The cousin whose mother had been convicted last fall for murdering Aris’s uncle thirty years ago. I’d been in Greece when that story broke, had followed it obsessively even after I came back to the States.
I squeezed Aris’s arm.
“Ah, well. Small world.” Bronson’s smile suggested he’d gained some advantage, though I wasn’t sure what.
Vienna Wells—maybe late twenties, blonde, smiled warmly at me. “It’s lovely to meet you both.”
“You as well,” I replied, allowing Aris to guide me to our seats.
Douglas then nodded toward Maxwell’s side. “An’ over there’s my oldest girl, Sarah. Maxwell’s wife.”
Sarah smiled warmly. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
As we settled in, the staff began serving the first course. Butternut squash soup. Bronson leaned back in his chair. “Black Ember Distilling deserves a firm with the infrastructure to handle a national campaign. Heritage brands require serious firepower.”
“Now, y’all leave that business talk for later,” Mariela interrupted cheerfully, passing a basket of warm rolls. “Vienna told me how she met Bronson. Deanna, how did you and Aristides meet?”
“I was walking alone in Greece and someone tried to grab my purse. Aris helped me out.”
“Helped you out?” Aris shook his head. “Mariela, she is being modest.” He launched into the story, describing the attempted robbery with such color that by the time he was halfway through, Mariela had clapped both hands over her mouth in alarm.
“You could have been hurt!” she exclaimed.
“That unfortunate guy, he would have been hurt,” Aris responded. “She went at him like Amazon, swinging hard. I was not sure whether I was rescuing Dede from the guy, or the poor miserable creature from Dede!” He gave me a fond look. “I bet that was the last time he tried to tackle a lone woman in an alley!”
“You’re exaggerating,” I protested, though I couldn’t help smiling. “I didn’t even get a good punch in.”
“I knew at once she was special, even though her clothes, they were disheveled from the fight. I was smitten.” He lifted my hand from the table and pressed a kiss to my palm.
His soft gaze upon me was so warm that I forgot we were only pretending. My heart did this little flutter thing that had me questioning my own sanity.
Sarah sighed. “That’s so romantic.”
As the main course was served, the men were soon drawn into a conversation about international finance, and Aris easily shared his opinions. I couldn’t help but notice that he never once mentioned his position as CEO of Olympus Motors, even though we’d both noticed a couple of their more luxurious vehicles parked in the Embers’ garage.
Bronson, meanwhile, dropped names and credentials as if he were getting paid per mention. His firm’s Super Bowl campaigns, their bourbon client who’d seen a forty percent increase in millennial market share, and the awards lining their office walls.
Aris wasn’t the type to brag about himself, I realized. That kind of humility in a man with his money and power was rare. Hewas allowing me to shine rather than overshadowing me with his considerably more impressive credentials.
By the time dessert was served, my back was screaming. I shifted in the antique dining chair, but Aris must have noticed because his palm settled on my knee and he told our hosts we would be retiring to our bedroom.
Exhaustion settled deep in my bones as we walked back to the carriage house. The adrenaline that had carried me through dinner was fading fast, leaving behind the reality of pretending to be madly in love while competing against a firm with ten times my resources.
Aris’s hand found the small of my back as we stepped inside. “You did well tonight.”
“We haven’t even started yet.” I kicked off my shoes with a sigh of relief. “Bronson’s circling like a shark.”
“Let him circle.” Aris closed the door behind us and locked it. “You are better than he is, and Douglas, he knows it, yes.”
