His Greek Wedding Night Debt (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 8

  It was time to go for the kill.

  ‘Tomorrow morning, we are going to Agon.’

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘We? What for?’

  ‘To meet the magician creating the sculptures for my garden. We’ll sail after breakfast.’

  ‘I don’t need to meet the sculptor.’

  ‘I disagree and, as I am paying for your time and effort, I’m not going to take no for an answer. Enjoy your meal at your desk—if you decide to leave your office to smell the fresh air and share a drink with me, you’ll find me on the terrace.’

  Her face pinched in on itself. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘Do.’ Then, unable to resist a parting shot he knew would get a wonderful rise out of her, he added, ‘And if I’m not on the terrace then I will be in bed. You are more than welcome to join me there too.’

  The rise he’d hoped for didn’t materialise verbally but he noted the tremor of her shoulders and the shaking of her hand as she tucked another lock of hair behind her pretty ear and pretended to ignore him.

  Whistling jauntily, he left her to her own lonely company.

  Helena dried herself off from her shower and slipped her nightshirt over her head. The spring she’d woken up with that morning had rusted and broken. She was exhausted. Her eyes hurt as much as her brain from concentrating so hard on her work and from trying to forget the kiss.

  She might have succeeded in pushing the kiss from her mind but her body had not allowed her to forget. The beats of her heart had become totally erratic. Her lips tingled. Her skin felt as if electrodes had been placed under the surface. And, now that she had no computer screen to distract her, she could not stop reliving every glorious, hateful second of it.

  Why had she responded that way? she wondered with clawing desperation as she turned her bedroom’s air-conditioning unit off and opened the window. Sitting herself on the windowsill, she inhaled sweet-scented fresh air into her lungs, praying it would help clear her mind.

  It had always been like this, she thought miserably. Theo had been like a drug to her. One touch had always been enough to make her lose her mind. It destroyed her to know that nothing had changed. She was still a slave to his touch.

  Distant laughter tinkled through the open window. She thought it sounded like Elli. Natassa took life very seriously but Elli had a lightness of spirit Helena envied. As a child she’d longed to be someone fun, a girl the other children would gravitate towards, but she’d found it impossible. She didn’t know how to be fun or tell the jokes that made others laugh. Laughter was not something often found in the Armstrong home, not with a stern, elderly English father who ruled the household with an iron fist and a mother forbidden to work or have anything that resembled independence.

  In recent years, Helena had asked her mother many times why she stayed in such a marriage. The answer was always a stoical, ‘I made my vows.’

  She tried to understand. Her mother had been nineteen and just finishing her first year at an English university when she’d been swept off her feet by one of the university’s dashing professors thirty years her senior. Six months later they were married and her mother’s university life was over as she was remodelled into the perfect wife. Her father entertained his colleagues and star students frequently and expected the house always to be immaculate and the food served to be perfect.

  Helena remembered asking her mother once what she’d wanted to be as a child. Her mother had looked away before wistfully saying the life she had was the life she’d always wanted.

  Her mother, she’d been certain, had been lying, not to Helena but to herself, a certainty that had crystallised through the years as she’d realised that the way her father ran their household was not normal and hadn’t been normal for at least a hundred years. On the rare occasions they’d travelled to Agon without him, her mother became a different woman, the woman Helena was sure her father had first fallen in love with. Why marry someone with such vivacity only to snuff all the life out of them?

  The day before she’d been due to marry Theo, they’d had lunch with her parents. Helena had watched her mother sit silently while her father and Theo demolished a bottle of wine. The two men’s raucous laughter about a woman’s role in marriage alongside her mother’s downcast face had been the spurs for the fateful conversation that had broken them. Helena had been halfway into falling into the same trap. She’d let Theo make all the decisions and have his own way on everything, including his insistence that they marry as soon as possible. She’d been a little lamb following its master.

  If she’d married Theo, everything she was and everything she could be would have been subsumed by him, just as her mother had allowed the essence of herself to be subsumed by her father... If she’d married Theo then.

  But back then was not now. The past didn’t live in the present. The Helena of then was not the Helena of now.

  Another rumble of laughter filtered through the window, closely followed by more tinkling laughter from two feminine sources.

  Theo was on the terrace enjoying his evening with Elli and Natassa. She imagined them drinking cold white wine and eating delicious homemade nibbles, Theo holding court as he always did with his irreverent, often indiscreet, humour. A sudden yearning to be out there with them on this clear, balmy evening rippled through her. It had been a long time since she’d loosened up enough to simply enjoy an evening of good company. Three years. Not since Theo.

  For all his faults, no one made her laugh the way he did. An evening with him flew by. A night with him...

  She closed her eyes.

  Lying in Theo’s arms night after night was the closest to heaven she had ever been.

  What would it feel like to lie in his arms after making love properly...?

  When more laughter, much louder this time, filtered into her room, Helena closed her window and climbed into bed.

  Staring at the ceiling, she put a hand to her racing heart and thought again of the inbuilt inhibitions that had made her such a loner until Theo had torn them down.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘THE SCULPTOR LIVES HERE?’ Helena’s nose wrinkled with incredulity as she soaked in the sprawling beachside villa with its own private jetty at which the captain had moored the yacht. He must be one rich sculptor.

  ‘No, agapi mou. I live here.’

  She faced him. ‘Since when?’

  He grinned. ‘Since I bought it.’

  A male member of Theo’s household staff appeared from one of the villa’s many rear doors. Theo did like his comforts. Thinking about it, it wasn’t surprising that he’d chosen to spend his evenings and nights in the luxury to which he was accustomed. The lodge he’d had built for her was huge compared to her flat, but compared to this...

  It was like comparing a Chihuahua with a Great Dane on steroids.

  The gangway lowered. Theo stepped on it and beckoned for her to follow.

  Holding her laptop bag securely to her stomach, Helena stepped onto the jetty and did as she was bid. The mid-morning sun already blazed down and she rued, again, her lack of foresight in packing only professional outfits. It didn’t matter when she was in the air-conditioned lodge or on Theo’s air-conditioned yacht, but the moment she stepped outside perspiration broke out on her skin and her brain felt roasted. She hadn’t even had the nous to tie her hair back.

  ‘My chef’s prepared refreshments for us,’ Theo said casually as they left the soft golden sand of the beach and climbed the steps of the extensive grounds.

  ‘When did you buy this?’ she asked again.

  ‘Two and a half years ago.’

  ‘And your parents’ home?’ When she’d been with Theo, his main residence had been the magnificent townhouse he’d inherited from his parents. It made no sense that he’d bought another property in Agon less than twenty miles from the original one but Theo had always
had more money than sense. He collected properties the way other people collected ornaments.

  It was still strange though. For all his vast portfolio, Agon was his home. One of the reasons he’d wanted to build on Sidiro’s peninsula had been its close proximity to it.

  There was the slightest tightening of his jawline before he answered. ‘I sold it.’

  ‘Why?’ Not only did it hold all his childhood memories within its walls, but it had also been the perfect location for a man who loved nothing more than to party.

  ‘It was time for a change.’ Then his mood visibly lifted as he bestowed on her a beaming smile. ‘Come, I’ll show you around.’

  ‘Have we got time?’ Her curiosity to see the villa was, she assured herself stubbornly, for professional reasons and nothing to do with wanting to see how Theo lived.

  ‘There is always time,’ he answered enigmatically.

  She would not fall into the trap of asking ‘Time for what?’

  Her attention was caught again by the man she’d seen emerge from the villa and who now stood at the top of the steps waiting for them. The nearer they got, the sharper into focus he became. It was Dion, the middle-aged butler Theo had inherited from his parents along with their house.

  ‘Miss Armstrong,’ he said in slow Greek, a twinkle in his eye. ‘It is a pleasure to see you again.’

  Touched that he remembered her and that he remembered her Greek was a beat slower than someone raised here, she smiled and resisted the urge to throw her arms around him. Dion had broken protocol and given her a shoulder to cry on when he’d found her packing her bags and sobbing the day she’d known her relationship with Theo was over. He’d quietly and discreetly taken care of her, and she had never forgotten his kindness.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you again too, Dion. How have you been?’

  ‘Very well, thank you. You look like you need to escape from the heat.’

  ‘That obvious, is it?’ she said with a grin as she walked through the door he opened for her.

  He smiled back. ‘I got the chef to make a jug of the pink lemonade you always liked. That should help cool you down.’

  ‘The air conditioning in here has done it already.’ She rubbed her suddenly cold arms as she took in the reception room they walked through. ‘Did someone set it to freezing?’

  ‘When you’re settled in I will work on the controls for your room so it’s not as cold for you,’ he promised.

  ‘My room?’

  Theo, who’d held back while the unanticipated reunion took place, stepped in. ‘Please have our refreshments taken to the sun room. We will be there shortly.’

  Dion bowed his head and bustled off, leaving Theo with Helena, who was gazing at him with justifiable suspicion.

  ‘My room?’ she repeated.

  ‘We are meeting with the sculptor in the morning,’ he confessed without an ounce of guilt. ‘Today is a day for leisure.’

  ‘Absolutely not...’

  ‘You have worked for me for over a week. You are yet to take any time off—you need a break. Seeing as you won’t take one, I’m going to force it.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  He took a step closer to her. ‘I just have.’

  She folded her arms across her ample chest. ‘I’ll get the captain to take me back to Sidiro.’

  ‘Sorry, agapi mou,’ he said with a sad shake of his head, ‘but he only takes orders from me. If you find another means of returning to Sidiro, then I’m afraid I will be forced to reject your first set of plans for the house, even if they’re perfect. And the second,’ he added for good measure.

  ‘You’d be that petty?’

  ‘For sure.’ Another step closer. ‘And if I find you working on your laptop, I will cut the internet off.’

  The glare she threw him was undermined by the flare of amusement ringing in her eyes that her humungous spectacles couldn’t disguise. Theo tilted his head to soak in her luminescent beauty from a different angle.

  Something new flared in those eyes, a something that had him leaning even closer. He inhaled the clean fruitiness of her shampoo and murmured, ‘You are going to take the day off whether you like it or not. We will have our refreshments and then I’m taking you shopping.’

  ‘But...’

  He put a finger to her perfect lips. ‘Arguing with me is now officially banned. What I say goes.’

  Her breathing deepened. She grabbed the finger and held it tightly. ‘That’s not fair.’

  ‘You can be in charge next time.’

  ‘There won’t be a next time.’

  ‘And that is exactly why you need this break. You’re too uptight. You need to relax and enjoy the sunshine. And if you argue with me one more time, I’ll keep you here until the weekend.’

  She stared at him a beat too long then seemed to realise she still had hold of his finger and hastily dropped it. ‘You’re impossible.’

  ‘Thank you. Now, let us enjoy our refreshments and then we can work on loosening you up a little.’ With another wink, he sauntered off to the sun room, leaving Helena no choice but to hurry after him.

  Helena had no idea how Theo managed to talk her into entering the exclusive boutique hidden up a narrow backstreet in Agon’s capital, Resina, when there was no way she could afford any of the garments. Actually, she did know—by using the force of his personality and the good humour that always lurked behind it. And she, as she’d done all those years ago, had succumbed.

  Well, not succumbed exactly. More that she’d realised arguing would get her nowhere. The next ferry to Sidiro wasn’t until Friday, so unless she wanted to charter a boat to sail back, she was stuck with Theo in Agon for the next twenty-four hours. She had no doubt his threat to extend their time here until the weekend was something he would happily stick to. It was a threat the old, hedonistic Helena, the Helena Theo had recognised just before he kissed her, kept whispering that she needed to test.

  As the day had gone on, she’d felt the Helena that had once emerged like a butterfly for Theo growing in strength. She’d locked it back in its cage three years ago but it had fluttered its wings with joy when she’d come face to face with Theo in the Staffords boardroom and refused to calm down since.

  Theo was just too...everything. He made her feel everything. He had an innate energy, a zest for life that was as infectious as it was irresistible. He didn’t just get under her skin, it was more that her skin rose to welcome him into its confines. Every breath she took, every step she walked, every word she uttered, it was all done with a heart that felt as if it had grown too large for her chest.

  Why was she fighting it? He wanted her, she wanted him. They were both adults. She’d already proven to herself that she wasn’t the same little lamb for him any more. If she felt the need to take the lead in something, she went ahead and did it without a second thought.

  He’d turned his nose up at the first shop they’d gone into—an international brand that sold fashionable, affordable clothing—but he’d followed her inside and been happy to wait while she tried on dozens of outfits, half of which she’d had no intention of buying but used as a form of revenge against a man who got itchy feet if he had to stand still for longer than a second. When she’d held up a summer dress she’d instinctively known he would hate, he’d pulled a face of such deliberate horror that she’d burst into laughter and added it to her to-buy pile.

  She’d been too quick for him at the counter and had handed her debit card to the cashier before he’d realised she’d paid for her own stuff.

  She had to admit, it felt wonderful to be spending money on herself again. She’d paid a chunk of her debt off with Theo’s signing-on payment and for the first time in three years had a little cash to spare. It had been a long time since she’d bought anything but work outfits. Now that she knew what debt felt like, she would never allow herself to
be in that position again.

  She had to admit, too, that it felt wonderful to change out of her stuffy work clothes into a pair of loose, breathable cream tapered trousers, a pretty cami-top with embroidered pink and purple flowers and a pair of flat sandals. A quick visit to a chemist for some sunscreen and a hair band...and now, with her hair tied in a knot at the back of her head, she felt wonderfully cool.

  Having disappeared when they entered the store to chat with the boutique’s manageress—an old friend, by the looks of it—Theo suddenly appeared at her side and grabbed hold of her hand. ‘Come look at this dress.’

  He stopped in front of a mannequin wearing a retro fifties-style dress. ‘What do you think? Is it not perfect for you?’

  The dress consisted of a strapless black bodice that met a flaring white skirt with black leaf prints at the waist that fell to below the knee. It was elegant and pretty and exactly the kind of dress she would buy if she could afford it. The chances of her being able to afford it were nil. This was a boutique without price tags.

  Suddenly she realised Theo was still holding her hand. Not just holding it—at some point their fingers had become entwined.

  They were holding hands as they’d used to do. And it felt every bit as necessary and right as it had all those years ago.

  Clearing her throat, Helena tugged her hand free and gently ran her trembling fingers over the silk skirt of the dress. Her heart sighed with pleasure. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  ‘I knew you’d like it,’ he said smugly.

  ‘It’s beautiful, but I’m not buying it,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve spent enough money for one day and now I need coffee.’ She needed to get out into the air and clear her lungs of the woody scent filling her senses before she threw herself into Theo’s arms, buried her face in his neck and inhaled his scent right from the source.

  To her relief, Theo didn’t argue. ‘There’s a coffee shop around the corner that sells amazing baklava.’

  Their eyes locked. Her swollen heart pulsed painfully against her ribs.