"What a wonderful soup, Giuseppe!"
"Do you … " he cut in. "I am going to miss you, Anna. I am going to miss you terribly."
She looked at him, her eyes moist with tears. Not responding verbally, Anna swallowed her tears, took a piece of bread, and nervously dipped it in her bowl of soup.
"I should be getting a taxi," Nikolas said.
"I hope you are not tired of my driving, love."
Nikolas leaned over and gave her a kiss, under the watchful eye of the smiling Giuseppe.
"I'll see you in a couple of hours," said Anna, as she dropped Nikolas off in front of the Mark Hopkins Hotel.
"How will I know who your father is?"
Anna just smiled, blew him a kiss, and drove off knowing Nikolas would manage very well on his own.
***
"Scotch, yes. Chivas, please," ordered Nikolas at the Top of the Mark Bar, where he was to meet Stavros Bouras. He downed his whisky and walked around the floor, admiring the breathtaking view of the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls. The three-piece band was playing soothing light jazz music. He approached the gentleman sitting alone. His gray hair was well-groomed; the dark blue pinstriped suit was complemented by a perfectly starched white shirt and a smart red silk tie. However, what stood out the most were his granite stern face, the dark glasses, and the long Havana cigar. For a moment, Nikolas hesitated, but he thought about Anna and approached the table. The man looked up and rose, smiling.
"Mr. Bouras, my name is Nikolas
Theophilos."
"Stavros Bouras," was the reply, as he offered his right hand. Nikolas took his hand with a strong grip.
The waiter brought an unopened bottle of Chivas Regal, two glasses, and a silver bucket with ice. Nikolas found himself feeling comfortable in the presence of the financial giant. He just saw a simple, kind man. Stavros opened the bottle and looked directly at Nikolas, who nodded "yes." Stavros poured and offered a glass to Nikolas. As he raised his tumbler, Stavros took his dark sunglasses off and again looked straight into Nikolas's eyes without flinching.
"What shall we drink to, Captain
Theophilos?"
"I'd like to drink to your health, sir."
"Thank you, and to yours, Nikolas."
When Stavros offered Nikolas a pure aromatic Cuban cigar, he accepted it with pleasure
"You don't mind me calling you Nikolas, do you?"
"Not at all, sir, I prefer it."
Replacing his sunglasses, Stavros cut the tip of his cigar and before he placed it on his lips, the waiter was there with a lighter. Seeing the tumblers empty, he poured more whiskey and left. This time Nikolas raised his glass: