Theseus Discovers His Heir Read online

  Because somehow that was the worst part of it. Her body still reacted to him in exactly the way it had on Illya, with a sick, almost helpless longing. If he looked closely enough he’d be able to see her heart beating beneath the smart black top she wore.

  His indifference towards her cut like a scalpel slicing through flesh.

  He couldn’t give a damn about her.

  A swell of nausea rose in her and she knew she had to say something.

  She couldn’t spend the next ten days with such an enormous elephant in the room, even if she was the only one who could see it.

  Heart hammering, she plunged in. ‘Before I start work there’s something we need to talk about.’

  He contemplated her with narrowed eyes that showed nothing but indifference.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she continued, swallowing back the fear, ‘but if you want me focused I need to know why you let me and everyone else on Illya believe you were an engineer from Athens, travelling the world on the fruits of an inheritance, when you were really a prince from Agon.’

  ‘It hardly matters—it was five years ago,’ he said sardonically.

  ‘You lied to me and every person you met on Illya.’

  You lied to him too, her conscience reminded her, and she felt her cheeks flame as she recalled how her one lie had been the most grievous of all, a remembrance that knocked back a little of her fury and allowed her to gain a touch of perspective.

  Her lie had been the catalyst for everything.

  He contemplated her a little longer before leaning back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest.

  ‘Let me tell you about life here on Agon,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Outsiders struggle to understand but Agonites revere my family and have done so for over eight hundred years, ever since my ancestor Ares Patakis led a successful rebellion against the Venetian invaders.’

  ‘Patakis?’ she repeated. ‘Is that where you got your assumed surname from?’

  He nodded. ‘My family have held the throne since then by overwhelming popular consent. With my family at the helm we’ve repelled any other nation foolish enough to think it can invade us. To prevent any despotic behaviour down the years my ancestors introduced a senate, for the people to have a voice, but still they look to us—their royal family—for leadership.’

  Theseus’s mind filtered to his father; the man who would have been king if a tragic car crash hadn’t killed him prematurely along with his wife, Theseus’s mother. Lelantos Kalliakis had been exactly the kind of man his ancestors had feared taking the throne and having absolute power. Yet, regardless of how debauched and narcissistic the man had been, the Agonites had mourned him as if a member of their own family had been killed. His sons, however, had only truly mourned their mother.

  ‘We live in a goldfish bowl. The people here look up to my family. They revere us. Children on this island learn to read with picture books depicting tales of my ancestors. I wanted to meet real people and explore the world as a normal person would. I was curious as to how people would react to me—the man, not the Prince. So, yes, I lied to you about my true identity, just as I lied to everyone else. And if I had my time again I would tell the same lies, because they gave me a freedom I hadn’t experienced before and will never experience again.’

  The majority of this speech was one he had spouted numerous times, first to his grandfather, when he’d announced his intention to see the world, and then to his brothers, who’d seen his actions as a snub to the family name. After a lifetime of bad behaviour, when he’d effectively turned his back on protocol, taking off and renouncing the family name had been his most heinous crime of all. Even now he was still trying to make amends.

  ‘If I hurt your feelings I apologise,’ he added when she gave no response.

  He didn’t owe Jo anything, but neither did he want working with her to be a trial. There wasn’t time to bring in anyone else to complete the biography and they’d already lost three precious days.

  If getting her to soften towards him meant he had to eat a little humble pie, then so be it. He would accept it as penance for the greater good.

  And, if he was being honest with himself, apologising went a little way towards easing the guilt that had been nibbling at his guts.

  The only change in her demeanour was a deep breath and the clenching of her jaw. When she did speak it was through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t even know what to call you. Are you Theo or Theseus? Do I address you as Your Highness or Your Grace? Am I expected to curtsey to you?’

  In the hazy realms of his memory lay the whisper of her shy smile and the memory of how her cheeks would turn as red as her hair whenever he spoke to her.

  It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to call him Theo. Being Theo had been the best time of his life...

  No. He would not let those memories spring free. He’d locked them away for a reason and they could damn well stay there.

  ‘You can call me Theseus. And no curtseying.’

  Having people bow and scrape to him turned his stomach. All his life people had treated him with a reverence he’d done nothing to earn other than be born.

  She nodded, biting her bottom lip. And what a gorgeous lip it was, he thought. How eminently kissable. He’d kissed that delectable mouth once...

  ‘I ask you to put your bad feelings towards me to one side so we can work together effectively. Can you do that?’

  After a long pause she inclined her head and her long red hair fell forward. She brushed it back and tucked it behind her ears.

  ‘Do you remember the night those American travellers came into Marin’s Bar?’ she asked, in a voice that was definitely milder than the tone she’d used so far. ‘You were with the Scandinavians on the big round table...’

  He raised a shoulder in a shrug, unsure of what day she was speaking of. He’d hit it off with a group of Scandinavian travellers on the ferry from Split to Illya and had spent the majority of his fortnight on the unspoilt island in their company. Marin’s Bar, which was two steps from the beach, had been the only place to go, but with its excellent beer, good food and a juke box that had pumped out classic tracks, it had engendered an easy, relaxed atmosphere.

  Jo and her friends, whose names he didn’t think he’d ever known, had always been on the periphery—there but in the background, rather like wallpaper.

  ‘They were touching us up,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Ah.’

  Now he remembered. The Americans—college graduates taking time out before joining the corporate world—had drunk far too much of the local liquor and had started harassing Jo and her friends. He remembered there had been something nasty about it, well beyond the usual banter one might expect in such an environment. He’d taken exception to it and had personally thrown the men out, then he had insisted Jo and her friends join him and his friends at their table.

  And now her face did soften. Not completely—her cheeks were still clenched—but enough that her lips regained their plumpness. They almost curled into a smile.

  ‘You stepped in to help us,’ she said. ‘Whether you were there as a lie or not, in that one aspect it doesn’t matter. You did a good thing. I’ll try to hold on to that whenever I feel like stabbing you. How does that sound?’

  A bubble of laughter was propelled up his throat, startling him. He quickly recovered.

  ‘I think that sounds like an excellent start.’

  She rocked her head forward. ‘Good.’

  ‘But just in case you ever do feel like stabbing me I’ll be sure to hide all the sharp objects.’

  The plump lips finally formed into a smile and something dark flickered in her eyes, but was gone before he could analyse it.

  ‘It’s a deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe this is the perfect cue for me to go back to my apartment and ca
rry on reading Fiona’s work.’

  ‘Will you be ready to start writing in the morning?’

  ‘That’s very unlikely—I’m only two-thirds through and I still need to familiarise myself with the research papers. What I can promise is that I will have this biography completed by the deadline even if I have to kill myself doing it.’

  She stepped out of the door, giving him a full view of her round bottom, perfectly displayed in the smart navy blue skirt she wore. What kind of underwear lay beneath...?

  He blinked away the inappropriate thought.

  Her underwear was none of his business.

  But there was no denying the gauche young girl he’d known before had gone; in her place was a confident and, yes, a sexy woman.

  It had been a long time since he’d considered a woman sexy or pondered over her underwear.

  There was nothing wrong with admitting she had an allure about her. Thoughts and actions were different things. The days when he would already have been plotting her seduction were long gone. The Theseus who had put pleasure above duty had been banished.

  The next woman he shared a bed with would be his wife.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JO GAZED AT the picture Toby proudly held up. Apparently it was a drawing of the two of them. It resembled a pair of colourful ants, one of which had been given long purple hair as his red felt-tip pen had run out.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ she said, trying not to laugh, and inordinately proud of his attempt at a family portrait.

  ‘Uncle Jon says he’ll scab it for you.’

  She stifled another giggle at his word for scan. At some point she knew she would have to tell him when he mangled words and mixed them up—like using alligator for escalator and Camilla for vanilla—but for the moment it was too cute. She’d start correcting him properly when he started school in five months’ time.

  She was dreading it—her baby growing up. They’d only been apart for one night so far, and this was already the second time they’d spoken via video-link. Thank God for technology.

  She wondered how parents had handled time away from their children before video conferencing had been invented. A voice on the end of a phone was no substitute to seeing their faces as they spoke. Not that she would count her own parents in that equation.

  She remembered going on a week-long school trip when she’d been eleven and calling home after three days only to have her mother say, ‘Is there an emergency?’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Then I don’t have the time to talk. It’s feeding time.’

  And that had been the end of that conversation. In the Brookes household the animals came first, Jonathan came second, with Jo and her father vying for last place.

  ‘Sorry, sweet pea, but I have to go to work now,’ Jo said, infusing her words with all the love her own mother had denied her.

  He pulled a face. ‘Already?’

  ‘We’ll talk again later.’ Theseus would be expecting her at any minute.

  ‘After lunch?’

  ‘Tell Aunty Cathy we’ll speak before you go to bed,’ she promised, knowing full well that Cathy would be listening to their conversation and would make sure Toby was ready for her.

  ‘Have you brought me a present yet, Mummy?’ Toby asked, clearly doing everything he could to keep her talking for a little longer.

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere to get you one yet, you little monkey. Now, blow me a kiss and shoo before you’re late for preschool.’

  Toby did better than blow her a kiss. He put his face to the screen, puckered his lips and kissed it.

  With her heart feeling as if it were about to expand out of her body, she pressed her fingers to her lips and then extended them to touch her screen. ‘Love you.’

  Before he could respond the connection was lost. No doubt he’d leaned on something he shouldn’t have pressed when he’d leaned forward to kiss her.

  Laughing whilst simultaneously wiping away a tear, Jo turned off her laptop.

  She took three deep breaths to compose herself, then left her apartment, took four paces to the door opposite and entered her office, yawning widely.

  ‘Late night?’

  Theseus’s voice startled her.

  He stood in the archway that separated their offices, dressed in a navy suit and white shirt, without a tie.

  She would never have imagined Theo in a suit, much less that he would look so unutterably gorgeous in it. On Illya he had lived in shorts, his golden chest with those defined muscles and that fine hair dusting over his pecs unashamedly on display.

  But this man wasn’t Theo, she reminded herself sharply. He was nothing like him. This man’s lips seemed not to know how to smile. This man carried none of the warmth Theo had had in spades.

  The only thing the two had in common was that same vivid masculinity. That vital presence. Her eyes would have been drawn to him even if she’d never known him as Theo.

  ‘I stayed up to finish reading what Fiona had written,’ she answered.

  ‘Was that necessary?’

  ‘I needed to find the rhythm of her work,’ she explained evenly. ‘I’ll need to replicate it if I’m to make the transition seamless for the reader.’

  ‘And are you ready to start writing now?’

  ‘Not yet. I need to read through the research papers for the period of your grandfather’s life I’m covering.’

  He inclined his head and straightened. ‘I shall leave you to it. I’ll be back later if you find you have any questions for me.’

  She forced a smile in acknowledgement, but the second she was alone she dropped her head onto the desk and closed her eyes.

  Barely five minutes in his company and now not a single part of her felt right, as if being with him had caused her entire body to turn itself inside out.

  She would have to find a way to manage it.

  With grim determination she forced her attention to the piles of research papers before her.

  The work Fiona had done on the biography had made for compelling reading.

  King Astraeus had led a fascinating life, one filled with glory and honour. While many men of his nation had fought for the allies in the war—his brother among them—the then Prince Astraeus had led the defence of his own island. When a battalion of naval ships had approached the island with the intention to occupy it, Astraeus had led the counterattack. The fleet had been obliterated before it had reached the shore.

  No other enemy ship had attempted to land on Agon since.

  That would have been impressive on its own, but only the day before Astraeus had been given the news that his only brother had been killed in action.

  This was Jo’s son’s heritage—a family that led from the front and who were all prepared to put their lives on the line to defend their home and their people.

  A powerful family. And in it fitted Theseus—the father of her son.

  The chapter Fiona had finished just before being taken ill detailed the death of Astraeus’s only son and daughter-in-law in a tragic car crash twenty-six years ago. Theseus’s parents. He’d been nine years old. So very young.

  Her heart cracked a little to imagine what he must have gone through.

  But that had been a long time ago, she reminded herself. Theseus the child had no bearing on Theseus the adult. She could not allow sympathy to lower her guard. Until she knew the real Theseus she couldn’t afford to lower it for one second.

  * * *

  Theseus put his phone down. He could hear the soft rustle of papers being turned in the adjoining office.

  When Fiona had worked on the biography he’d hardly been aware of her. Other than the times when she would ask him questions, she might not have existed. Fiona using that office hadn’t interrupted the flow of his own w
ork.

  As the financial figurehead of the Kalliakis Investment Company, and with his newer role of overseeing the palace accounts, which his grandfather had finally agreed to a year ago, he had plenty to keep his brain occupied.

  In his childhood he’d dreamed of being an astronaut, of flying through the universe exploring new planets and solar systems. Astronauts had to be good with numbers, and he’d practised his arithmetic with a zeal that had astounded his tutor.

  He could still remember one of the rare occasions when his father had come into Theseus’s bedroom, mere months before he’d died. He’d looked at the star charts and pictures of rockets that had filled the walls and told him to rid his mind of such nonsense. A Kalliakis prince could never be an astronaut.

  Even now Theseus would stare up at the night sky and be filled with longing.

  He could have done it. He had the talent and the enthusiasm. He was fit, healthy and active.

  But it could never be.

  Now he used his talents, if not his enthusiasm, for financial reports. At least when he was going through the accounts he didn’t have to put on a face and make small talk; didn’t have to remember he was an ambassador for his family and his island.

  So he kept himself busy. Too much time on his hands left his mind free to wander, to dream, to imagine what if...?

  Today, though, the woman next door with hair like autumn leaves kept intruding. And she hadn’t made so much as a peep of noise.

  He couldn’t get over how damned sexy she’d become. Even now, wearing nothing but charcoal three-quarter-length leggings, and a plain long-sleeved tunic-style black top that made her hair appear even more vibrant, she exuded a beguiling allure.

  It had been a long time since he’d experienced such a primitive reaction to a woman.

  Five years, to be exact.