’Tis the Season for a Diamond - Chapter 1

Sylvie

I stand at the windows of the luxury Swiss chalet I’m about to start working at for the evening, and stare out at the snow-covered landscape beyond the glass. The Alps gleam against the darkened sky, the stars glittering like cut crystal in the night.

It’s a beautiful Christmas scene, like something out of a movie. Which is unsurprising since the owner of this chalet has planned this Christmas party down to the last detail. He probably insisted that it snow tonight, so it did.

I’m here because I work for an international catering company, and I travel with them to different events that we’ve been hired to cater for, and honestly, it’s been a great job. I’ve loved it. Seeing different cities all over the world… It’s more than a Kiwi girl from Auckland, New Zealand, ever thought she’d see.

But this Christmas party in this Zermatt chalet is my last event. I’ve decided it’s time to go home, see my family, find a different job in a different career…

I’m lying to myself, of course. Leaving the company has got nothing to do with going home or my family. I’m leaving because my heart is broken, and I need to go somewhere quiet, to lick my wounds and heal. If that’s even possible.

Maybe it’s not. Giorgios Cristou is a man I’m not going to forget in a hurry. If I ever will.

I turn from the windows and survey the huge, open-plan living area to make sure everything is ready for this evening.

We’ve been hired to cater a Christmas party given by the billionaire owner of this lodge. We’re under strict instructions to make sure that it’s perfect, because the host is a stickler for detail. Everything has been organized meticulously—the food, the decorations, the wine, everything.

The Christmas tree is up and decorated with the designated silver decorations, and it stands next to the huge, modern fireplace in the centre of the room, its chimney piercing the high, beamed ceiling. Before the fire, and elsewhere, thick sheepskins are scattered across the wooden floor, and one deep, sectional sofa faces the fireplace, while another at the other end of the room faces the magnificent view.

There’s a dining table, too, laid with silver cutlery and crystal glasses, candles burning in tall candleholders that have been wreathed in holly, red berries gleaming against the deep green of the leaves. Only six places have been laid, which is a little strange considering we’re usually only hired for big events, but this is a billionaire, and I guess he can afford it.

Despite the snow outside, it’s deliciously warm inside, and I’m not looking forward to leaving at whatever late hour this party will finish. No doubt it’ll be even colder by that stage, though I have a few hours to go before then.

Apparently, I’ve been specifically requested to be one of the staff on shift, though I really don’t know why. My boss told me it was because whoever is hosting tonight was impressed with my work at an earlier event in Singapore and asked if I could be here.

But I don’t want to think about that event in Singapore, so I walk over to the fireplace, taking the opportunity to warm myself since there’s no one around, and I’m still cold from the journey up here.

Naturally, though, despite what I want, my brain returns relentlessly to Singapore, and to Giorgios, and how I fled, my heart in ruins.

We first met at an event in London. I was doing the rounds with a tray of champagne, when someone accidentally bumped my elbow, and my tray came crashing down, bringing all the glasses down along with it.

It was my first event and I promptly burst into tears, because I was desperate to do a good job, yet only ended up making a complete idiot of myself. But then this man crouched down beside me, helping me clean up all the glass. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, tall and muscular, with short dark hair and startling grey eyes. He took charge of the cleanup with a casual authority that made everyone rush to do his bidding, and within five minutes, it was all tidied up. He made another waiter take my tray, then ushered me over to a quiet corner to recover my composure.

Turned out he was a bodyguard and did work for Atlas Security, a huge security firm. There was just something so calm and authoritative about him; I was dazzled. It might have ended there if I hadn’t then done a shift at an event in Paris, and discovered he was there, too. He greeted me like an old friend, and we ended up on a break together, just talking.

He was there again at a gala in New York, and another in Tokyo, and it was in Tokyo that he told me that his presence wasn’t entirely coincidental, that he’d been trying to get shifts wherever my company was catering, because he wanted to see me again. I was beyond thrilled. He was so handsome, so self-assured, and so very easy to talk to. And we had chemistry, my God, did we have chemistry.

That event in Tokyo was when he took me to a secluded place at the rooftop bar where the event was being held, and kissed me for the first time. I melted into his arms. It was the best kiss I’d ever had, and I wanted more.

Because I travelled a lot, it was easier for us to meet during events I was working at, and so that’s what we did, stealing every minute we could to be together. He told me that he’d been born in Athens and brought up by a single mother, whom he now took care of. He sent the bulk of his pay to her every month and made sure he went back to Greece regularly.

I fell in love with him. How could I not? He was beautiful, fiercely intelligent, with a dry sense of humour and a passion that utterly consumed me. Sadly for me, though, he’d always been clear that our affair would have an end, that he wasn’t looking for commitment, and I just hoped…

Well, it doesn’t matter what I hoped, because that event in Singapore was our last time together. He said that he had to go back to Greece to look after his mother, that there was no room in his life for anything more. He said he hoped I understood.

I told him I did, because I didn’t want to make a fuss, but actually, I didn’t understand and I still don’t. Months have passed since Singapore and I thought I’d be over him by now, but I’m not. And maybe I never will.

I was terrified he’d be at some of the events I’ve worked at since then, but he never is, which is a relief. It’s good, I tell myself. I’m getting better, getting stronger, and there’ll come a day when I don’t think about him once. Unfortunately though, that day is not today.

I put my hands out to the fire, enjoying the heat.

Then a deep and familiar voice says, ‘Sylvie.’