All That Glitters Read online

  A parade of models appeared, some wearing white, but the majority in pastel colors, delicately flattering colors that were nevertheless not virginal white. Nikolas looked them all over carefully and finally chose a gown with classically simple lines and requested it in a shade of pale peach. Jessica suddenly frowned. This was her wedding gown, and she was entitled to wear the traditional white.

  "I don't like peach," she said firmly. "In white, please, Madame."

  Nikolas glared at her and the woman looked startled, but Jessica stood her ground. It was to be white or nothing. At last Nikolas gave in, for he didn't want to make a scene in front of extremely interested witnesses, and Jessica was taken into the dressing room to be measured.

  "You made a fool of yourself, insisting on white," Nikolas said curtly on the way back to the hotel. "Your name is recognized even in France, Jessica."

  "It's my wedding, too," she said stubbornly.

  "You've already been married, my sweet; it should be old hat to you by now."

  Her lower lip trembled at that cut and she quickly firmed it. "Robert and I were married in a civil ceremony, not a religious one. I'm entitled to a white gown, Nikolas!"

  If he caught her meaning, he ignored it. Or perhaps he simply didn't believe it. He said grimly, "After your history, you should count yourself lucky I'm marrying you at all. I have to be the world's biggest fool, but I'll worry about that afterward. One thing is for certain, as my wife you'll be the most well-behaved woman in Europe."

  She turned her head in frustration, staring out the window at the chic Parisian shoppers, the elegant cafe's. She had seen nothing of Paris except fleeting glimpses through the window of the taxi and the gay, mocking lights of the night winking up into her hotel window.

  It was too late to back out now, but she was aware of the awful, creeping knowledge that she had made a mistake in agreeing to the marriage. Nikolas was not a man to forgive easily, and not even the knowledge that she was not promiscuous would make him forget that, to his way of seeing it, she had sold herself to him for a price— marriage.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  "There!" Andros shouted to Jessica above the roar of the helicopter blades. "That is Zenas."

  She leaned forward to watch eagerly as the small dot in the blue of the Aegean began to grow bigger, then it was rushing toward them and they were no longer over the sea but over the stark, barren hills with the shadow of the helicopter flitting along below them like a giant mosquito. Jessica glanced at Nikolas, who was at the controls, but he didn't acknowledge her presence by so much as the flicker of an eyelash. She wanted him to smile at her, to point out the landmarks on his island, but it was only Andros who touched her arm and directed her attention to the house they were approaching.

  It was a vast, sprawling house, built on the cliffside with a flagstone terrace enclosing three sides of the house. The roof was of red tile; the house itself was white and cool amid the shade of orange and lemon trees. Looking down, she could see small figures leaving the house and walking up to the helipad, which was built off to the right of the house on the crest of a small hill. A paved drive connected the house to the helipad, but Andros had told her that there was only one vehicle on the island, an old army jeep owned by the mayor of the village.

  Nikolas set the helicopter down so lightly that she didn't even feel a bump, then he killed the engine and pulled off his headset. He turned a grim, unsmiling face to Jessica. "Come," he said in French. "I will introduce you to Maman—and remember, Jessica, you're not to upset her."

  He slid open the door and got out, ducking his head against the wind whipped up by the still-whirling rotors. Jessica drew a deep breath to steady her pounding heart and Andros said quietly, "Not to worry. My aunt is a gentle woman; Nikolas is not at all like her. He is the image of his father, and like his father before him he is protective of my aunt."

  She gave him a grateful smile, then Nikolas beckoned impatiently and she clambered out of the helicopter, holding desperately to the hand Nikolas had extended to help her. He frowned a little at the coldness of her fingers, then he drew her forward to the group that had gathered at the edge of the helipad.

  A small woman with the erect bearing of a queen stepped forward. She was still beautiful despite her white hair, which she wore in an elegant Gibson Girl style, and her soft, clear blue eyes were as direct as a child's. She gave Jessica a piercing look straight into her eyes, then she looked swiftly at her son.

  Nikolas bent down and pressed a loving kiss on the delicately pink cheek, then another on her lips. "Maman, I've missed you," he said, hugging her to him.

  "And I've missed you," she replied in a sweet voice. "I'm so glad you're back."

  With his arm still about his mother, Nikolas beckoned to Jessica, and the look he gave her as she stepped closer warned her to behave. "Maman, I'd like you to meet my fiancee, Jessica Stanton. Jessica, my mother, Madelon Constantinos."

  "I'm happy to meet you at last," Jessica murmured, meeting that clear gaze as bravely as possible, and she discovered to her astonishment that she and Madame Constantinos were nearly the same size. The older woman looked so fragile that Jessica had felt like an Amazon, but now she found their eyes on the same level and it was a distinct shock.

  "And I'm happy to meet you," Madame Constantinos said, moving out of Nikolas's embrace to put her own arms around Jessica and kiss her on the cheek. "I was certainly surprised to receive Niko's phone call announcing his intentions! It was…unexpected."

  "Yes, it was a sudden decision," Jessica agreed, but her heart sank at the coolness of the old woman's tone. It was obvious that she was less than happy over her son's choice of a bride. Nevertheless, Jessica managed a tremulous smile, and Madame Constantinos's manners were too good to permit her to exhibit her displeasure any more openly. She had spoken in English, very good English with a slight drawl that she could only have picked up from Nikolas, but as she turned to introduce Jessica to the other people she switched to French and Greek. Jessica didn't understand any Greek, but all of the people spoke some French.

  There was Petra, a tall, heavyset woman with black hair and eyes and the classic Greek nose, and laughter shining in her face. She was the housekeeper and her employer's personal companion, for they had been together since Madame Constantinos had come to the island. There was a natural grace and pride about the big woman that made her beautiful despite her almost manly proportions, and a motherly light gleamed in her eyes at the barely concealed fear and nervousness on Jessica's face.

  The other woman was short and plump, her round face as gentle as any Jessica could remember. She was Sophia, the cook, and she patted Jessica's arm with open affection, ready to accept immediately any woman that Kyrios Nikolas brought home to be his bride.

  Sophia's husband, Jason Kavakis, was a short, slender man with solemn dark eyes, and he was the groundskeeper. He and Sophia lived in their own cottage in the village, but Petra was a widow and she had her own room in the villa. These three were the only staff at the villa, though the women from the village were all helping with the preparations for the wedding.

  The open, unrestrained welcome that she received from the staff helped Jessica to relax and she smiled more naturally as Madame Constantinos linked arms with Nikolas and began organizing the transfer of their luggage to the villa. "Andros, please help Jason carry the bags down." Then she removed her arm and gave Nikolas a little push. "And you, too! Why should you not help? I will take Mrs. Stanton to her room; she is probably half-dead with fatigue. You've never learned to take a trip in easy stages."

  "Yes, Maman," he called to her retreating back, but his dark eyes looked a warning at Jessica.

  Despite the coolness of her welcome from Madame Constantinos, Jessica felt better. The old lady was not an autocratic matriarch, and Jessica sensed that beneath her restraint she was a pert, gentle old woman who treated her son as if he was simply her son, rather than a billionaire. And Nikolas himself had immediately s