Page 54 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

The waitress’s eyes widened. ‘You?’ she said.

Like Calanthe, she’d seen at once that he was wearing expensive clothes, an expensive wristwatch, handmade deck shoes—not the kind of things belonging a man who’d ever hauled bricks on a construction site.

He gave a laugh. ‘It was hard work—and hot! But...’ He nodded. ‘Looks like we did a good job. And I’m glad the resort is doing well.’

He glanced across at Calanthe and she had a sudden fear that he might tell the waitress that she, too, had once worked here—on an excavation. But he simply asked her what she might like to drink. She opted for sparkling water, and Nikos ordered a beer. The waitress smiled, and Calanthe could see her eyes lingering on Nikos as she headed off. Eyes would always linger on him.

Just as they did eight years ago. Like Georgia gazed after him, and all the other girls too.

And herself, most fatally of all.

‘So, what kind of pizza?’ Nikos asked.

He sounded enthusiastic, and Calanthe wondered at it. Pizza was a universe away from the gourmet meals he could now enjoy.

She glanced at the colourful menu, designed, obviously, to appeal to parents and children.

‘Pizza al funghi,’ she said, and set down the menu.

‘OK. I’m going for pepperoni, chorizo, peppers and double cheese,’ Nikos replied.

‘Very authentic,’ Calanthe heard herself say, her tone ironic.

He gave a half-laugh. ‘Well, pizzas have evolved since Naples.’

The waitress was returning, depositing Calanthe’s water bottle and Nikos’s half-litre glass of lager, glistening golden and beading gently.

He thanked the waitress, gave her their pizza orders. Then added: ‘And a carafe of red—whatever’s local.’ He smiled.

She headed off again, throwing yet another lingering glance at Nikos.

He lifted his beer glass. ‘Yammas,’ he said, and took a draught.

Calanthe poured a glass of fizzing water for herself, which tasted thin and prickling in her mouth. She did not return his casual toast.

She looked away, deliberately, towards a family a little way off. The father had a beer, like Nikos, and the mother a glass of white wine, fizzy drinks for the two children. They looked primary school age, she thought, and were busy working on the colouring sheets provided for their entertainment while waiting for their pizzas to arrive. The children were bickering, but amicably, clearly content and enjoying their holiday, and their parents were chatting to each other. Relaxed, carefree—on holiday and happy. She saw the dad lean forward for a moment, gently brush the mum’s cheek. There was a soft look in his eyes, returned in full by his wife.

Unaccountably, she felt tears prick at the backs of her eyes. Blinked them away.

She envied them.

The arrival of their pizzas was timely, and their aroma mouth-watering. She busied herself with the cutting wheel, slicing up the massive thick-crusted pizza, and Nikos did likewise. The waitress came back with a carafe of red wine and two glasses, taking her time filling each—as if, Calanthe thought, she wanted to maximise her time spent close to such a devastatingly attractive man as Nikos.

He thanked her with another melting smile, and Calanthe saw the girl’s expression take on a smitten look.

The way I used to gaze at him.

Her expression hardened. Well, much good it had done her.

Defiantly, she picked up her knife and fork and attacked a slice of pizza with venomous vigour, dropping her gaze down to it, looking away from Nikos. And the girl gazing so helplessly at him.

‘Is there anything else?’ the waitress asked Nikos, clearly hoping there was.

But he simply smiled again, shaking his head. ‘It’s all perfect,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

And she coloured on cue, finally taking her leave.

Calanthe got stuck in to eating, realising, as she did so, that she’d swapped from drinking water to reaching for a wine glass. She hadn’t intended to drink any alcohol, but it was good, robust wine, and it went excellently with the pizza.

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