A Tale of Two Cousins (A Papaioannou Novel Book 3), Page 2

  The cat stood up, stretched, then sniffed where my fingers were curled through the cutout handle of the box before giving them a head bonk.

  My heart melted at the gesture. I’d always wanted a cat, but never could afford one ... and with one rub of this odd cat’s head, I was a goner, and we both knew it.

  Still, how was I going to afford a cat? There was food, and litter, and vet visits, and toys. ... I spent a moment imagining me turning the cat over to the local animal shelter, and almost flinched at the look in Valentino’s eyes.

  “You have no idea how much you’ve just complicated my life, kitty. Oh, stop looking at me like I’m a miser. I guess I’ll eat ramen noodles for a month, but you have to do your part. You have to remain healthy, and not demand expensive food,” I told him. “I hope that harness means you don’t mind walking, because I can’t carry a cardboard box with me into a cocktail party, and I’m certainly not going to leave you anywhere. Not since you’re probably traumatized at being parted from your little girl.”

  The cat just gave me another long, considering look, his eyes blinking slowly.

  “What are you doing?” Maggie called, her hands on her hips, when I hurried up to her. Her expression went from impatience to disbelief when she saw what was in the box I held. “A cat? Where on earth did you find that?”

  “A little girl gave him to me. She said her dad was going to dump him on the street, and you’ve seen how people drive here. The kitty wouldn’t last five minutes.”

  Maggie gawked at me. “Are you kidding? According to that Web site you read me, there’s a whole neighborhood filled with cats in Athens.”

  “Yes, but that’s not here.” I clutched the box tighter, all my hitherto-unknown protective instincts rushing to the fore. I’d be damned before I did anything so callous as to abandon this poor, heartbroken cat.

  “You can’t keep a cat!” Maggie insisted.

  I met Valentino’s gaze, and once again melted under the effect of it. “Why not? Lots of people have them.”

  “How are you going to explain him to your flatmates?” she countered, and I had to admit she had me there.

  “I don’t know what I’ll say, but I can’t leave him here. It’s inhuman.” I could be just as stubborn as her.

  “He looks healthy. He’ll be fine on his own.” She turned and walked quickly into the entrance of the hotel.

  I looked again at the cat, who was curled up, his front feet folded under his chest. “She’s right in that I don’t know what I’ll do with you when I get home. I don’t suppose if I set you down, you’d find someone here to live with?”

  He blinked at me again. I sighed. There was no further argument, and we both knew it. “Fine, but if you give me any grief, I will find the nearest Greek SPCA and hand you over.” I took him out of the box and set him on the ground. His tail went up as he sniffed first my feet, then the mat outside the entrance of the hotel, then looked back up at me, clearly waiting for me to open the door.

  “You sure? All right, but no peeing on anything.” With the box in one hand, and the cat’s leash handle looped around the other, I opened the door and he strolled in, just as calm as if he’d done that every day of his life.

  Maggie stood just inside the door, clearly scanning the surroundings to make sure no one saw her arriving on foot. She turned to say, “It’s all clear—oh, for the love of God! You’re not keeping that!”

  “You want me to fit in with the elite rich people of Athens,” I told her, lifting my chin and pushing my glasses farther up the bridge of my nose. “They all have Chihuahuas and pugs and other little dogs they carry around in purses.”

  “That’s in Los Angeles, and that is not a teacup Chihuahua. ...Oh, never mind. If anyone complains, you’re going to have to get rid of it.”

  I frowned, not appreciating the high-handed tone she’d adopted. I knew she wasn’t overly fond of cats, but there was no reason to be so heartless about a poor homeless kitty. I dumped the cat’s box of things at the concierge (who looked at it like it was filled with feces) and hurried after my cousin.

  “Now remember,” Maggie said in an undertone at the same time she slid into a hip-slinky walk down a hallway that led to various rooms used to hold events. “These people are the überest of the über. Don’t mention anything about money.”

  “Or lack thereof,” I said sotto voce to Valentino. His tail had a little curl at the end, so it looked like a shepherd’s crook. My heart melted even more as he walked so nicely next to me.

  “Don’t forget to tell anyone who asks that you’re my PA, and that I’m working for Noblesse International magazine. If they ask what I’m here to write about, say that you’ve been sworn to secrecy. That ought to pique their interests, and maybe we’ll get invited to other parties.”

  “We’re only going to be here for a few days,” I reminded her. She stopped outside a door that had a sign in Greek and English that read georgio foundation of the arts.

  “Yes, and I expect to use every minute we’re here to make valuable connections. OK, showtime! Oh, and remember to refer to me as Her Serene Highness.”

  I came close to rolling my eyes for a third time. “I know, Mags.”

  With a deep breath, she jerked the door open, and did a slow, exaggerated hip-action stroll into the room.

  I looked at Valentino. He looked at me. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it with style,” I said, and hoisted him up, tucking him between my side and arm. I gave him a minute to protest, but he just curled his tail underneath my arm and adopted a regal expression.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” I nodded at him, and tried to move with something other than my usual shamble, striving for the sophistication and elegance that always seemed to fail me.

  The room was full of the sorts of tables you see at wine bars, tall, with no chairs, dotted with candles and elegant floral arrangements. Mingling amongst the tables, chatting, laughing, calling to one another, and generally doing the cocktail party dance, were about a hundred and twenty people. They came in all shapes, sizes, and colors, but every single one of the men wore a suit, with the ladies in elegant short cocktail dresses that showed off long, tanned legs, or in the case of older women who obviously didn’t wish to bare that much skin, silky garments that fluttered around them via the breeze coming in from an open patio.

  Ahead of me, Maggie paused, posing. For a moment, I had a sense of her being a stranger. “Really,” I whispered to the cat, “I had no idea she’s such a good actress.”

  Valentino looked unimpressed. Maggie lifted a hand to wave at someone across the room all the while trilling light laughter.

  “Do you see someone you know?” I hissed behind her, panic hitting me in the stomach. She’d sworn that she had no acquaintances who hung out in this set, but my worst fear was that someone would expose our subterfuge.

  “No, silly. I’m just letting everyone think I do. Darling!” She laughed again, and started forward, bumping into a woman who appeared to be in her sixties, and who was chatting with two men. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just waving to an old friend when my PA jostled me. Did I hurt you? No? I’m so glad. I couldn’t forgive myself if her clumsiness resulted in you being hurt. But you look familiar. Did we meet at Bunny’s party last year?”

  “I don’t know anyone named Bunny,” the woman said with some suspicion, eyeing first Maggie, then me, and finally the cat. Her lips pursed. “And I don’t know you.”

  “Of course you don’t, and here my PA had me almost running you down. Thyra.” Maggie gestured toward the two men and the obviously disapproving woman, waiting for me to do my thing.

  My stomach tightened, and for a moment, I thought of refusing to go through with the charade, but the weight of the cat on my arm reminded me that I badly needed the money that had been promised for the article. I’d be able to pay my flatmates all the back rent I owed, and put a little into my nonexistent savings account. I’d be able to afford food and litter for the cat.
I might even be able to shop somewhere other than thrift stores. And most of all, I might be able to present my case to Beck. “Good evening. May I present Her Serene Highness Princess Juliane of Sonderburg-Beck,” I murmured, and, with a glance that I hoped told Maggie a good deal, backed away. The two men—one of whom was older, the other probably in his early fifties—murmured politely and kissed her hand.

  Maggie smiled flirtatiously at the younger one, who whispered something in her ear that had her throwing back her head and giving another trill of laughter.

  “Oh, brother,” I muttered to the cat, and, with a quick glance around the room, hurried over to where I could see waiters emerging through a door, laden with trays of hors d’oeuvres. My mouth watered at the same time my stomach rumbled ominously.

  One waiter paused, a handsome dark-eyed devil in a plain white shirt and black pants, offering me a flute of champagne. “No, thank you,” I murmured, adjusting Valentino so he could glare at the waiter when he tried to get a glimpse down my dress. The possessor of substantial cleavage, I was no stranger to men trying to do that, which is why my mother’s old dress was so perfect. It left my shoulders bare, but the band across the chest was almost leer-proof.

  I spied an unattended table that bore a tray of snacks near the waitstaff entrance, and made a beeline for it, ignoring all the bright chatter around me. “Yum, Valentino. These look tempting. I hope no one sneezed on them or otherwise did something to take them out of the running.” I examined the hors d’oeuvres carefully, but they looked OK, and I quickly popped three phyllo pastries filled with goat cheese and herbs into my mouth, moaning softly to myself. “Oh, lord, I could eat a whole tray of just those. But I suppose I should find something you can eat. Let’s see. ... That looks spicy.” I tried a little samosa, saying around it, “Yup, spicy. This looks like some sort of slider. Let’s peel the meat off it and see if you like it.”

  Valentino, who’d expressed haughty interest when I started stuffing my face, snuffled the little blob of what I assumed was lamb before licking it off my fingers. With a furtive, quick glance around me, I picked up the platter and took it over to where a couple of chairs had obviously been tucked away forgotten in a corner. It was partially hidden by the door that led to the depths of the hotel, which suited me just fine. I turned my back on the room and hurriedly picked the meat off the three other sliders, feeding it to the cat.

  A brief gust of air, making my skirt flutter out around me, preceded a thump on my back that sent me flying forward into the wall. “Bloody hell!” I hit my head on the back of one of the chairs when I stumbled into it, clutching the cat to my side so he wouldn’t get crushed when I half fell onto the chair seat.

  “Christ! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you standing behind the door—are you hurt?”

  I slid off the chair onto the ground, using one hand to rub the spot on my forehead while I set Valentino down and held tightly to his leash. “Not seriously, no. And it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have been there. I was just feeding ... er ...” I looked up when the man who’d spoken squatted next to me, words drying up on my tongue at the sight of him. He looked to be in his late thirties, had short curly black hair and olive-green eyes, and could very easily have graced the cover of the magazine for which I had promised to interview an up-and-coming desirable bachelor. His cheekbones were just high enough to make his jawline angle down to a gently blunted chin in a way that made me feel first hot, then chilled.

  “Your cat?” he finished my sentence, smiling as he gave Valentino a little pat on his head. Valentino considered him with his yellow-eyed gaze for a few seconds, then strolled over and sniffed cautiously at his shoes.

  I stared at the gorgeous man for a few seconds, my attention on the two indentations that appeared on either side of his cheeks when he smiled. They weren’t exactly dimples, but they were cute enough to remind me that I wasn’t there to ogle the waiters.

  “My what? Oh, Valentino. Yes, he’s mine. Newly so. A little girl gave him to me outside the hotel,” I said, managing to get myself under control enough to allow the man to give me a hand. I got up, brushing off the full lace skirt, hoping the crinoline petticoat that I wore underneath to give it the proper shape wasn’t stuck in my underwear, or some other embarrassing circumstance. “I was just giving him a little meat. I think he’s hungry.”

  The man looked at first the cat, then me. “Someone gave him to you?”

  “A little girl. It was heartbreaking, but I guess he’s my responsibility now.”

  “How very thoughtful of you. You have the most amazing eyes.”

  I was a bit taken aback by the abruptness of the statement, but then, I was just ogling the man’s jaw and almost dimples, so I guessed I didn’t have much to complain about. “I do?”

  “They’re amber. I’ve never seen amber eyes before. And now I’ve offended you.” He smiled again, making me feel like the air-conditioning needed to be cranked up a couple of notches.

  “You haven’t, actually, although I’ve always thought of my eyes as a boring old light brown. Yours are very nice, too. They’re kind of a sage, olive green.”

  “That would be my mother’s influence. She was Irish. Are you by any chance American?”

  Valentino tired of smelling the waiter’s shoes and hopped onto the chair to consider the tray of snacks. I pulled him back, giving him the last of the slider meat. “No, although I grew up in Ottawa. Until my parents died, that is.”

  “Ah, that would explain why you sound like my cousins’ wives.” He smiled again, and then stuck out a hand. “I’m Dmitri.”

  “Hello, Dmitri. I’m Thyra. And this is Valentino.”

  “He looks like one. Er ... TEER-uh?” he asked, looking hesitant as he carefully pronounced my name.

  “Yup, it’s an odd one, huh?” I spelled it for him. “It’s a family name that my parents insisted I have. I actually have four names, and this is the best of them, so really, it could be worse..”

  He laughed. “My father insisted I be called after him, so I completely understand. Luckily, my family lets me use Dmitri—my middle name—instead. Now, I’ve just about knocked you silly with the door, and we’ve exchanged name secrets, so I believe we should progress to the point where I ask if I can get something for you. For your cat? A glass of wine? A bowl of water? A piece of paper so you can give me your phone number?”

  I gawked at him for a moment. “Are you insane?”

  “Not that I know of,” he said, his cheeks doing that almost-dimpling thing again.

  “Wait ... I just need to be sure because this doesn’t happen very often. ... Are you flirting with me? Oh, God. You weren’t, were you? You were just being funny, and because I like your eyes, and you have those almost dimples, I thought you were, but you weren’t, and now I want to die. And now my mouth won’t stop telling you everything I’m thinking. Gah! Please go away so I can die of embarrassment here in the corner by myself. Well, with Valentino, because he has no one else to take care of him.”

  “I was most definitely flirting with you,” he answered, his smile growing into an outright grin. I liked what that did to his face. It made little laugh lines spread out from the edges of his eyes. “Although I doubt if that doesn’t happen very much.”

  “I’m short, wear glasses, and am probably the most introverted and socially awkward person you will ever meet,” I said, giving him a wry smile. “You’ll have to trust me that men don’t often give me a second look.” I hesitated, not wanting to lie to him. He seemed so nice, so friendly, that it just seemed wrong. “Not ones who don’t have an ulterior motive.”

  He was silent a moment. “I don’t quite know how to respond to that. I want very much to compliment you and say that you aren’t short, that your glasses are charming, and that I don’t find you awkward at all, socially or otherwise, but I suspect you might not take that in the spirit that I intended, so I’ll simply ask you if you would give me your number so that we might continue the conversation at another tim
e. Say, tomorrow? Perhaps over coffee? Lunch?”

  “I’d like that,” I said before I remembered that I shouldn’t be spending money on meals out ... and then there was the matter of the interview. We were supposed to meet the Greek playboy the following evening. However ... after a moment’s consideration, I decided that given Maggie’s attitude, I was due a little fun before I had to fall into step for the interview. “But I was going to go sightseeing tomorrow. I only have a couple of days in Athens, and I really want to see everything I can.”

  “That’s perfect!” he said with another eye-crinkling, almost-dimpling smile. Something inside me felt girlish and giggly, a bolt of excitement cheering me up despite the awkwardness of the party. “I’m known for my ability to show off Athens, if you would like me as a tour guide.”

  I glanced toward the door behind him, which opened to allow two more waiters to emerge with fresh trays of snacks. “That would be awesome, so long as you can take the time off.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” He pulled out his cell phone. “Will you give me your number?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have one. A phone, that is. But if you give me yours, I can borrow my cousin’s phone.”

  He hesitated, but held up his phone to show me the phone info on it. “I’ll write it down for you.”

  “No, it’s not necessary. My brother and I have this weird mental thing with numbers—he can do mad math problems in his head, and I remember strings of numbers.”

  “That must be convenient. Is your brother here in Athens?”

  “No, he’s a homicide detective in Scotland,” I said, wincing a little at the pride in my voice. “Sorry, that sounded smug, didn’t it? I didn’t mean that his job was better than anyone else’s, although I am very proud of him. He’s ... happy.”