by Mandy Baggot
Becky looked to Elias then. He was sitting at the bar inside, his fingers coiled around his mobile phone that was next to his ear. Immediately the butterflies began inside her. He was so sexy and caring and intelligent and humorous and all the things a partner should be. Yes, they hadn’t known each other very long but the connection they had was real and it was strong enough to want to see where it led. Becky was certain of that.
‘I like him more than I’ve ever liked anyone in my life,’ she admitted.
‘More than Dean?’ Megan asked.
‘More than anyone,’ Becky reaffirmed. ‘I meant what I said about Dean. Yes, at the beginning I was hurt he had spent so much time with me when it was really you he was interested in. And I realised that after you got together. All those times he’d smiled when you walked into a room and laughed more at your jokes – even when they were truly terrible.’
‘Hang on,’ Petra said, leaning across the table, her plaits falling into a bowl of tzatziki. ‘You two dated the same guy?!’
‘So, to answer your question,’ Becky said, fixing her gaze on her sister. ‘No, I don’t think it’s a holiday romance.’ She took a breath, watching Elias end his call and get off the stool. ‘I think, and I hope, it’s going to be much more than that.’
Before Megan could make any reply, a large bottle of amber-coloured alcohol was slammed down in the middle of their table. Becky flinched and looked up. Eleni. It was then Becky read the label of the bottle. Metaxa.
‘So, Miss Becky from England, you think this is what is missing from my stifado.’
‘I…’
‘Elia says for me to “ask you, ask you” and then, finally, he tells me and I laugh. I laugh in his face because I know what this tastes like. This is Greek. I know all of Greek. And this will ruin my stifado.’
‘Well, how do you know?’ Petra piped up. Becky really wished she hadn’t.
‘How do I know?’ Eleni asked.
‘How do you know it will ruin your stiffy if you don’t try it.’
‘Petra,’ Becky said warningly.
‘Petra is right,’ Elias stated, arriving next to the table and looking straight at Becky. ‘You need to try it, Mama, exactly like I said. Because Becky is an expert at flavours.’
She looked up at Elias then and saw the adoration in his eyes. He really believed that. He believed in her madly skilled taste buds like he believed… octopuses could jump out of the ocean or… a missed connection and turbulence could lead to a love affair…
‘I agree,’ Megan said, breaking into the conversation. ‘You should try it before you make a judgement.’ Megan looked at Becky. ‘My sister is the most talented person I know.’
Becky felt like her heart was going to burst with utter joy. Here she was in gorgeous Greece with a new wonderful man entering her life, reconciling with her sister, mainly still rolling her eyes at Petra, being told she was special…
‘Technically,’ Petra began. ‘She might have almost killed someone with a sandwich but… we don’t know all the facts.’
Elias plucked the bottle from the middle of the table. ‘Well, let us give it a try.’ He looked to Eleni. ‘You are not afraid of being wrong, are you, Mama?’
‘I am afraid I will kill the group of walkers I have coming in for dinner.’
‘Take a chance,’ Elias suggested. ‘Things can change and it will be OK, remember?’
Eleni seemed to absorb his words and Becky watched her expression change from fierce to not-quite-so-fierce. And then the Greek woman full-on faced her.
‘Finish your souvlaki. Then you will find out what it is like working in a Greek kitchen.’
Fifty-Eight
Villa Selino
Becky’s cheeks were flushed now, not from the humid night as she sat in the garden of Villa Selino, but from the furious temperatures in Eleni’s kitchen. Despite living and working in one of the hottest places in July, Eleni had no air-conditioning in her traditional kitchen. With the outside temperatures in the late twenties – even at night – the heat while cooking had to be racing into the forties.
‘I did think she was going to boil your head if I’m honest,’ Petra commented. She was off the wine and onto the ouzo now. It wouldn’t be long before she suggested a late-night swim and Becky would feel compelled to watch her every stroke in case she got into difficulty.
‘Do you think she’ll sulk forever?’ Megan asked. ‘Because she was definitely sulking when the walking group asked to see the chef and said they had never tasted anything like it before.’
‘She will definitely sulk forever,’ Elias concurred.
Becky smiled, staying quiet. Having them all together like this was still something special and she was simply taking time to appreciate it. Elias had offered to walk them home and she had invited him to stay for a drink. Secretly she was hoping he would stay for more than a drink…
‘I’m glad I’m staying here,’ Megan announced. ‘If this is my last trip abroad before the business goes into liquidation because of Martin’s impending lawsuit then… it’s very nice.’
‘Where were you staying?’ Elias asked.
‘Megan didn’t know quite how far the airport was from Kerasia so she booked a hotel in Corfu Town,’ Becky filled in.
‘It was lucky I ticked that free cancellation box,’ Megan told them.
‘Listen, I can help if you need someone to deal with any litigation,’ Elias said. ‘I have a guy I can recommend.’
Yes, as special as this moment was, Becky had to remember that things could turn really bad the minute they touched down in England. Someone had been made seriously unwell, because of Becky’s inventive treats.
‘Thank you,’ Megan answered. ‘But it might be better if we find someone a little closer to home. Someone in England.’
‘I am from England,’ Elias explained. ‘I live in London.’
‘Oh,’ Megan remarked. ‘Becky didn’t tell me that.’
‘Well,’ Becky started, ‘I haven’t had much of a chance to tell you anything. It’s all been a bit of a whirlwind since you arrived. Allergic reactions and… family politics and…’
‘Next we have a nut job arriving tomorrow evening to nick all the antiques.’
‘What?’ Megan queried.
‘And did Becks tell you about all the animals we found when we first arrived here? It was like a scene out of The Durrells. There was even a flamingo in the bath!’ Petra carried on.
‘Becky?’ Megan asked, as if looking for clarification.
‘It’s all true,’ Becky admitted with a nod.
‘Anyone for a swim?’ Petra suggested.
*
It was late now, Megan and Petra had long since gone to bed, and Elias knew he should be walking back to the village. He had a lot to organise for tomorrow. His hope, now he had made contact with Kristina’s solicitor, was for her lawyer to talk some sense into her over the ‘secret’ valuable joint assets at the house. The solicitor was supposed to tell her that the game was up, that deliberating deceiving the other party was going to be frowned upon by the court and it was likely already, that this deception was going to cost her part of her settlement from Chad. But, if this Lazarus did turn up here at the villa, Elias was going to be there, along with the local police.
‘What are you thinking about?’ Becky whispered across the table. ‘I can almost see the cogs whirring around.’
Beautiful Captain Rebecca. Her sun-kissed complexion, bright eyes and the soft waves of brown hair framing her face…
‘I am worried,’ Elias began, ‘that if I have another glass of wine with you, I will not want to leave.’
‘Do you have to leave?’ Becky replied.
Her intense look was enough to send his heart into meltdown and he remembered everything from their day on the boat.
‘No,’ he whispered. ‘I do not.’ He wet his lips. ‘But…’ He couldn’t finish the sentence. His fingertips grazed the wood of the table between them.
‘But…�
� Becky asked.
‘Captain Rebecca, you should know something before I stay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I know I have said this before but… I need you to know, for certain, that I am in this with you… not for a holiday romance… not for a rebound or a quick fix.’ He took another breath. ‘For as long as you can put up with someone who has made many many mistakes along the way.’
He could feel his heart swelling, still a little anxious for her response. But then she was reaching for his hands and holding them so tightly in hers, her delicate fingers wrapping themselves around his.
‘I am in this with you,’ Becky whispered. ‘For as long as you can put up with someone who isn’t keen on enclosed spaces… who will probably unintentionally verbally pick apart anything you ever cook trying to decipher the ingredients… who might be about to be sued and lose everything she doesn’t really even have…’
‘Stop talking now,’ Elias ordered her. He stood up from his seat, making his way around the table to be next to her.
‘OK,’ Becky replied.
She got up too, meeting him – eye to eye, body to body – mere inches between them, both standing so still under the gently swaying branches of the olive tree, the sound of the sea in the distance…
The time for more words wasn’t now. He needed to taste her and touch her and show her exactly how much she had already grown to mean to him. He kissed her then, his lips meeting hers in a passion so strong it rocked him on his feet. He tried to steady himself but feeling her deep response he was struggling to stay still.
‘Elia,’ she whispered, momentarily dragging her lips from his, her fingers touching his chest.
‘Yes,’ he answered, looking at her and trying to read the emotion in her eyes.
‘How to Find the Love of Your Life or Die Trying was completely wrong.’
‘That book!’ Elias exclaimed. ‘I should never have given you back that book at Heathrow. I should have thrown it in the nearest bin.’
‘It told me you should always pause and consider the implications before you do literally anything.’
‘I see,’ he said.
She was still looking at him but saying nothing. It was just her eyes meeting his and the silence coupling with the intent lying in her expression was torpedoing him into sensual waters.
‘I’ve done way too much pausing in my life up to now,’ Becky announced then. ‘It’s time to press “play”.’
‘I’m so glad you said that,’ Elias answered, closing the slight gap between them.
‘Take me to bed, Elia,’ Becky ordered.
He didn’t need any more of a green light than that and in one quick motion, he scooped her up into his arms and began marching across the patio towards the bi-fold doors.
Fifty-Nine
‘Elia,’ Becky whispered, running fingers across his bare shoulder and down his arm.
Every inch of her skin was zinging like it had been treated to the very best exfoliating technique. In truth it was glowing with the increased blood flood to every tiny area and a lot from Elias’s slight stubble. Becky shivered, remembering the hours that had gone before. With the light of the moon coming in through the balcony doors, the humid air wrapping around them, they had moved together slowly and deeply, then more quickly and urgent, then slowly again until Becky thought her body was actually going to soar off the bed and hit the ceiling fan she had opted for putting on instead of the air-conditioning. Elias really was the perfect lover, strong and masculine yet also patient and subtle, asking her if she was OK, saying he wanted to hold her forever, kiss her forever. She had drowned as much in the sensual lull of his words as she had in the firm, muscular lines of his body. Last night had been different from the time on the boat. It had been softer, deeper, taking their time, knowing time was theirs to take now…
‘Elia,’ she said again, this time running her fingers down his waist and over his hip. He was unmoving, lying on his side, his back to her, the up and down movement of his body suggesting he might still be asleep. ‘Elia.’
‘Becky,’ he whispered. ‘We cannot do it again right now. After last night, a man needs a little time to recover.’
‘How much time?’ Becky asked. She got up on her knees then and crawled over the bed until she was at the bottom. Then, like a leopard stalking its quarry, she slowly crawled her way up the mattress until she was straddling Elias. He turned, almost sending her off balance, looking up at her naked body in the same appreciative way he had the night before. It made her feel both sexy and yet a little bashful. She shook her head and leaned forward a little.
‘I know what you’re doing,’ he said, reaching up and pushing her hair back behind her shoulders. ‘Don’t.’
‘What?’ she asked, laughing.
‘You were trying to cover your breasts with your hair.’
‘No,’ Becky said, dropping her eyes to his rather Pierce from Neighbours bod.
‘It is too late,’ Elias told her, reaching up and cupping one of her breasts in his hand. ‘I know every inch of them. Every inch of all of you.’
Becky leaned into him then, dropping down onto his body and finding his mouth for a long, slow kiss. He tasted of her, she knew she tasted of him, and the memories of last night made her tremble all over again. When she sat up, looking down on him again, she traced a finger over the letter ‘H’ on his chest, swirling over the lines.
‘Another mistake I made,’ Elias said, sighing. ‘Becky, I want you to know that I am not the kind of man to have names tattooed on my body. It is just… I was getting married and…’
‘You don’t have to explain and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it,’ Becky reassured him. ‘It’s a really nice design around the letter. I like the olive tree.’ She traced its boughs and the delicate ink drawing of the leaves. ‘And, we all have history. Granted, I don’t have my ex’s name tattooed on me – that would be weird as he’s now dating my sister – but Petra has a man’s name on her wrist that she’s never even dated so…’
Elias smiled then. ‘This is a fact.’
‘And Hestia was part of your life. You’ll always have those memories of your time together. A bit like old photographs you put into a box.’ She spiralled over his pectoral again. ‘Sometimes it’s good to get them back out again and look through them. You can remember the happy times, remember the less happy times and then… box them back up again.’
‘I could get a new tattoo,’ Elias suggested. ‘I am sure they could make an “H” into… I do not know… a pig with Bic stab wounds… to remind me of when we first met.’ He laughed out loud then and Becky reached for a pillow, thwacking him with it.
She stopped the assault when the doorbell sounded. Gasping, she got off Elias and began scrabbling for any item of clothing that could cover her nakedness. ‘Oh my God. Who is that? What time is it?’ Pulling her sundress over her head she looked at her watch. ‘It’s only 8 a.m. Who calls round at 8 a.m.?’
‘Wait there,’ Elias said, rushing out of bed. ‘I will go.’ She watched him begin to locate his clothes.
‘You think this is something to do with the divorce? Is it your client? Or Ms O’Neill?’ Becky shook her head. ‘No, they would both have keys, but they might think it polite to ring if they know someone is staying here.’ She gasped again, slipping her feet into her espadrilles. ‘And I’m the only one meant to be staying here! No couples she said. No other people! I’ve got you and Petra and my sister! She’s going to sue me! I’m going to be sued by two people over two different things! I’ve never even dropped litter before!’
The doorbell rang again. This time more insistently.
‘Becky, relax, I will answer it.’ He kissed her lips before leaving the room.
‘I’ll be two minutes. I just… need the loo.’ She had a sudden thought. ‘If it’s Ms O’Neill, say you’re… helping me water the flowers. Please.’
*
Smoothing down his shirt, then running his fingers through his hair, Elias opened the front door. A m
an was standing there, finger about to jab at the doorbell again. Contrary to the already warm early morning, this man was wearing a three-quarter-length leather coat, black trousers and a black T-shirt, a gold chain around his neck just visible. His hair was slicked back from his face and was tied in a thin ponytail. He was perhaps fifty years old, maybe a little older.
‘Kalimera,’ Elias greeted.
‘Oh,’ the man replied, looking a little unsettled. ‘Do you speak English? I was told an English woman would be here. Miss Rose?’
‘Yes, I speak English,’ Elias answered.
‘And Miss Rose?’
‘Who are you?’ Elias wanted to know. Although, from the looks of this shady character, he was in little doubt as to who this man was. He was a good few hours early. Half a day early in fact.
‘My name is Lazarus. I’m just here to pick up some boxes on behalf of the owner.’
‘Is that so?’ Elias stated. ‘Under whose instruction?’
‘Sorry,’ Lazarus said. ‘I didn’t catch your name.’
‘There are two owners of this property,’ Elias told him. ‘And… I am the other one.’ He stuck his hand out then. ‘My name is Chad.’
*
‘Who is he and why are we making him coffee?’ Petra hissed as Becky took her time putting different pods into the machine she didn’t really know how to work properly.
‘Sshh,’ Becky said. ‘He’ll hear you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Petra asked. ‘With your sister telling him about everything Dean has ever bought her? By the way, this Dean sounds like a right dickhead. You’ve definitely traded up with Elias.’
‘Chad!’ Becky reminded. ‘Elias has told him his name is Chad.’
‘Shit,’ Petra said suddenly. ‘Chad is the husband, isn’t he? The one who doesn’t know about the uber-expensive cars and the shit load of stuff in the cupboard we still can’t get into.’ Petra gasped then, a little too loudly. ‘Shit, is this that dodgy Lazarus?’
Becky pressed a button and the coffee machine set to work. ‘Yes. We just need to keep him talking and get him to stay here long enough so Elias can get an injunction or the police or something. He’s on the phone right now in the garden.’ She didn’t really know what the actual plan was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She felt uncomfortable about the whole thing.