Page 25 of Secrets, Lies and Love

“Why? I mean, you were born and raised in a small town. How can you love the hustle and bustle of Manhattan?”

“I’m loving being anonymous. In my city, you sneeze at home and someone at the bakery says, ‘bless you.’ It’s exciting to be in a place where no one knows you.”

“What about the promise you made?”

At the exact moment she finishes the question, I see Mr. Colt, Dionysus’s driver, park. Today will be the day I’ll see Joseph for the first time, as Elina invited me to a small reception among friends.

I see the Greek who is the reason I have completely changed my life get out of the car and then lean into the back seat. When he stands up again, he has a little blond boy in his arms.

My heart skips a beat, and I feel my eyes filling with tears, but I hide them, looking away from the targets of my interest.

“The promise I made is on its way to being fulfilled. I’ll do it, God willing.”

Cecily

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“I’ve never seenyou at these family gatherings.”

I look back to see who spoke to me, and I find a handsome man, who must be around thirty years old. He has dark blond hair and an athletic body, but that’s not what draws attention—it’s his friendly smile.

“Hello. This is my first time here. I’ve been working with Elina for a short time.”

“At the Association?”

I nod my head, agreeing, and he extends his hand in greeting.

“My name is Cage Sinclair. I work at the Kostanidis bank.”

I don’t hesitate to take his hand, as I sympathize with him instantly. “Cecily,” I say, because where I come from people are not formal, introducing themselves only with their first name.

“It suits you,” he says enigmatically, but he’s so friendly that I don’t know if he just praised me with ulterior motives or if he’s just being kind. In any case, interacting with strangers, especially a well-dressed and pleasant-smelling man like him, makes me nervous.

Not the kind of nervousness I felt with the arrogant Greek but a kind of social anxiety.

“Thanks. I’m going to go and see if Elina needs help.” I’m lying, because I saw her about ten minutes ago and she told me to enjoy the party.

“Why the rush? Was I too aggressive in my approach?”

“God!” I say, laughing and feeling my face heat up.

“What?”

“It wasn’t aggressive, but very straightforward, right?”

“Oh, yes. Guilty as charged. Where are you from? I can’t identify your accent.”

“I’m from Kansas.”

“Hmm. Now I get it.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you haven’t yet been infected by the bad mood of New Yorkers.”

“You’re not grumpy.”

“I’m not a New Yorker. I was born in Miami.”

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