Page 5 of Love Among the Ruins
CHAPTERTWO
DOMINIC
The waitress wittered on about Greek beef stew and pasta and the specials menu.
“How exactly do you think this could be any worse?” Dominic inspected her and tried to work out her IQ.
He hated company, and he hated being interrupted. But more than that he hated incompetent people. Like this wide-eyed waitress who assessed him with a cool, unfettered gaze. The smell of orange juice, the dampness of his shirt soaked in said liquid and sticking to his skin, made him want to retch.
He’d only ventured out to have a cup of goddamn coffee.
All he had wanted, before the party tonight that he couldn’t get out of—something his father wanted him to attend—was to go through his paperwork, enjoy one, small, fucking cup of coffee and return to his hotel suite.
He clenched his jaw while dabbing at his shirt with the pile of about one hundred napkins the other server had brought over.
“I would say you’ve had a lucky escape,” the waitress countered, standing by and doing nothing while her co-worker fussed over him like a mother hen.
“Enough,” Dominic growled through gritted teeth. The man stopped immediately and shrugged at the waitress.
This was Dominic’s idea of hell, and it had been made worse now that an incompetent waitress was uttering such nonsense to his face.
The sparkling, azure blue water in front of him and the cloudless, vibrant blue sky above would have made for a gorgeous day for most people. He was not most people. He did not enjoy pretty islands, he did not thirst for parties, he had no desire for company.
The waitress shoved her hands into the wide front pocket of her apron and pulled out her notebook and pencil before surveying the tables around her and getting ready to take more orders. Someone like her was a health hazard to customers.
She caught him looking at her. “I can’t apologize enough. I am sorry this happened to you, but it wasn’t my fault.” There was something harder, more serious in her tone now, as if she was making her final apology and he needed to accept it. As if she was done with being nice and couldn’t care less. She straightened up, standing taller, her shoulders back, her chin lifted.
He remembered her co-worker pleading on her behalf and he felt like an ass. It wasn’t her fault that he was in a bad mood. It wasn’t her fault that Hector Galatis—the Greek shipping tycoon and one of Greece’s richest men—had Dominic running around him like a playful puppy eager to please, but Dominic’s short fuse was starting to ignite.
The eccentric old man was testing Dominic’s mettle. Hector Galatis was the biggest player in Greek shipping, and had one of the biggest fleets in the world. Steele Shipping, one branch of Dominic’s father’s vast empire, was eager to form an alliance with Galatis’ company in a move that would prove highly beneficial to them both. It was a bold proposition. Steele Shipping wasn't a giant in the industry, and his father had almost sold that part of the business off, but this deal could fast track them to the forefront. This deal, if Dominic could pull it off, had the potential to be worth billions.
It wasn't the family’s core business, which was why his father had tasked him with it, but if he could do it, he'd more than prove himself.
He would also be turning thirty this year, and he needed to prove himself just like his older brother Alexander had when he’d reached this milestone. It meant that Dominic’s share of the company increased from ten per cent to twenty-five.
He had much to prove, and his family had thrown him in at the deep end. It wasn’t only that he was concerned about Galatis, he was also in charge of the Athens office for the summer, not an easy feat with Nikolaos, the managing director, away for a few months taking care of his sick wife. Dominic’s father and brother were waiting patiently on the sidelines for Dominic to fail. Alexander no doubt was waiting in the wings to swoop in and seal the deal himself.
But Dominic had no intention of failing, much less giving his older brother the satisfaction.
If Hector Galatis needed Dominic to be at the Acropolis, or the museum, or the Odeon of Herodes Atticus, Dominic had every intention of being there.
Hell, he would keep the Olympic torch burning like they used to throughout the celebration of the ancient Olympics on the altar of the sanctuary of Hestia— a fact that Galatis had casually mentioned to him at their first meeting—if that’s what Galatis wanted him to.
Dominic would court favor with the man if this was what it took.
He and the waitress eyed one another like boxers in a ring when someone approached them.
“I am Adamos, the owner.” The man’s voice was deep, his belly was big and round. “What is the problem here?”
The waitress folded her arms. The man looked at Dominic’s shirt, his face turning apologetic. He snapped at the waitress. “How did this happen?”
Dominic flexed his jaw muscle. “It wasn’t her fault. It was an accident.”
Please, sir. Don’t do that. She needs this job.
He understood that stress. He needed this deal with Galatis just like this waitress needed her job.
Everyone needed something, no matter their status or position in life.
