The Bridegroom's Vow

Alexandra Hamilton didn’t trust anyone to dye her hair except Michael at the Z-Attitude hair salon in her home town of Paterson, New Jersey.

He was a genius at his craft. That went without saying. But more to the point, she trusted him with secrets the way she would a father confessor.

Today he was wearing his hair in blue spikes. Michael wasn’t a mere coiffeur par excellence. He entertained everyone who flocked to his busy salon. Women adored him, young and old.

Her green eyes met his in the huge mirror with its border of stage lights.

“When are you going to emerge from this boring brown chrysalis and reveal your natural blond mane to his wondrous gaze?”

“Not until he falls in love with me as I am.”

He meaning Dimitrios Pandakis, of course. Alex loved him with every fiber of her being.

“I hate to tell you this, but you’ve been saying that ever since you went to work for his company. Four years now, isn’t it?”

Alex stuck her tongue out at him.

“Sorry,” he said in the most unrepentant voice she’d ever heard.

Her softly rounded chin lifted a good inch. “I’m making progress.”

“You mean since you slipped a little poison into his private secretary’s coffee six months ago?”

“Michael! That’s not funny. She was a wonderful woman. I still miss her and know he does, too.”

“Just kidding. I thought the trip to China went without a hitch.”

“It did. He gave me another bonus.”

“That makes quite a few. He’d better be careful or he might just find himself on the losing end of a very clever takeover orchestrated by none other than his own Ms. Hamilton.” A devilish expression broke out on Michael’s face. “Are you still making him call you that?”

She tried to hide her smile. “Yes.”

“It gives you great pleasure, doesn’t it.”

“Extreme. I must be the only woman on seven continents who doesn’t fall all over him trying to get his attention.”

“Yes, and it shows.”

“What it does is make me different from all the other women,” she defended. “One day he’s going to take notice.”

“Let’s hope it happens before he marries one of his own kind to produce an heir who’ll inherit his fortune. He’s not getting any younger, you know.”

A familiar pain pierced her heart. “Thank you for playing on my greatest fear.”

“But you love me anyway for telling you the truth.”

She bit her lip. “He has a nephew he loves like a son. Mrs. Landau once told me Dimitrios’s brother died, so he took over the guardianship of his nephew. There’s this look he gets on his face whenever Leon calls him from Greece.”

“Well, then—” He fastened her hair in a secure twist. “I guess you have no worries he’s anxious to start a family of his own.”

“Oh, stop!”

He grinned, eyeing her from the darkened roots of her head to the matronly black shoes she wore on her feet.

“Only your hairdresser knows for sure. I must say I did a good job when I transformed you.”

“It doesn’t suit you to be modest, Michael. Why not admit you created a masterpiece.”

Thanks to his expertise in doing hair and makeup for a lot of his friends in the theater, he’d come up with a disguise that made her look like a nondescript secretary much older than her twenty-five years.

“Possibly,” he quipped. “However, I may have gone too far when I suggested those steel-rimmed glasses you wear. You could walk on the set of a World War Two film being produced as we speak and fit right in.”

“That’s been the idea all along. You know I’m indebted to you.” She handed him a hundred-dollar bill, which he refused.

“We worked out a deal, remember? In return for some free hair appointments, my friends and I get to stay free at your hotel suite in Thessalonica during the fair.”

She shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about it and have decided I’m getting the better end of that deal.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “Do you even know how much a suite in that place costs for one night?”

“No.”

“I guess you don’t have to know when you’re the private secretary of Dimitrios Pandakis. Oh, if the rest of the world had any idea how you really live these days,” he said dramatically.

“You know I don’t care about that.”

His expression grew serious for a moment. “Is it really worth it to be the bridesmaid, but never the bride?”

He’d touched a painful nerve and knew it. “I can’t imagine not seeing him every day.”

“You’re hopeless, darling.”

“Tell me about it.” She got out of the chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “See you in Greece next week.”

“We’re coming as Mysian troubadours. Are you sure I can’t bring you a costume along with his? There’s this marvelous gold affair—Italian renaissance. I can borrow it from the opera company.”

She shook her head. “Ms. Hamilton doesn’t do costumes. It’s not in her character.”

“Pity.”

Alex chuckled. “Have a safe trip over, Michael.”

“You mean with three hundred of us on our charter flight squashed like Vienna sausages in the can? Lucky you, riding in the Pandakis private jet.”

“I’ll admit that part’s nice. Bye for now.”

She left the salon, grateful that the disguise Michael had created for her had worked perfectly during the four years she’d been in Dimitrios’s employ. She’d won the man’s confidence. But the thought that it was all she might ever win from him wasn’t to be considered.