Page 58 of Love Among the Ruins
He lifted his chin up, looked at her as if he didn’t know what to make of her. And all she could see was the way his shirt strained around his biceps.
“Meetings with Galatis make me lose the will to live.”
“We wouldn’t want that to happen. One less billionaire in the world, that would be so tragic.”
He was trying so hard not to smile.
* * *
DOMINIC
He heard her voice before her saw her. Eleni was talking to Miranda about food.
“I’m ready,” she announced as soon as she saw him. She had her hair up again, and her sleeveless white blouse and pale yellow pencil skirt made him do a double take. He had to drag his eyes away. He nodded, acknowledging her and was about to head towards the elevator when he remembered. “Good morning,” he said to Miranda, and looked away as soon as her cheeks turned pink.
“That was nice of you,” Eleni said to him in the elevator.
With the three of them inside it, and his bodyguard taking up more than a third of the space, they were a little tight in the tiny space. So tight that once again her flowery scent was impossible to ignore.
That scent would stay with him all day.
“Does he follow you everywhere?” she asked, when they got out and Sven was a good distance behind them.
“Pretty much.”
“Even to the toilet?”
He stared at her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
“I’m being serious. What if someone gunned you down in the toilet?”
“Gunned me down?” Dominic climbed into the Merc and waited for Eleni to get in. “Not a knife or a crossbow?” He got out his cell phone and started typing away.
“I imagine assassins would have guns with silencers, especially for someone of your importance and caliber.”
“You’re beginning to worry me.” He rushed to type an email reply to Helen.
“I’m trying to have a conversation, Dominic. Sorry for boring you.”
“You’re discussing my death. You sound rather obsessed about it.”
“You’re not a morning person, are you?” she asked, when no more than a minute’s worth of silence had passed.
“I’m not one for chattering incessantly.”
“Incessantly?”
“It means all the time.”
“I know what it means. English might not be my first language, but we were taught it well in school. My English is probably much better than your Greek.”
He huffed out a loud breath. “I suppose it is.”
“But do you see what a difference it makes, saying ‘Good morning’? You must have made Miranda’s day.”
“Because that’s what I exist for,” he muttered.
“There’s no harm in being nice. It doesn’t cost you anything. Those dollars,” she air quoted the dollars, “that you worry so much about, you didn’t have to spend any.”
