She didn’t respond. They circled the dance floor, twice, three times more, and the music came to an end.

‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly and let her hands drop from his. He was aware of a sharp stab of loss. Quickly suppressed. Let’s not let emotions get in the way here, he told himself.

But they already had.

‘It was my pleasure,’ he said, just as formally.

But she wasn’t finished with him. ‘I’m a fashion editor,’ she said coldly, formally. ‘I know the value of product placement. So I let it be known that the new Princess Athena of Argyros would be presented to the public for the first time tonight. The fashion houses’ marketing teams know me. They know I can carry clothes-see, there are advantages in not eating crepés and soufflés. So they moved fast, flying clothes and jewellery from Athens this afternoon. I get to send them all back, but not before I’m photographed by the world’s press-which, if you look to the balcony, also seem to be present. So I’ve organised my clothes, Nikos, and I’ve organised them myself. I’d never touch the island coffers. I never will.’

And then she added a more hesitant trailer.

‘And Nikos, my feelings for you are messing with my ability to do this job. If this is to work then I need to separate them.’

‘You want me to leave you alone?’

‘That’s it.’

‘When you have my son?’

‘He’s not your son unless you earn the right to call him that.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I don’t have a clue,’ she said and sighed, and then repinned her smile and turned around to a middle-aged lady who’d clearly been aching to talk to her.

Audience over.

It was so hot in here. She felt as if she was suffocating.

This dress was fabulous but it required a serious waist. She had lacing not only on the dress but also on the less than glamorous undergarment underneath. Move over, Scarlett O’Hara, she thought grimly as the night wore on. What women put up with in the name of vanity!