by Kim Lawrence
‘He is a stranger and he hurt my mother. He doesn’t mean anything to me.’
‘Then tell him that. The funding for your refuge is guaranteed.’
Kat found his response bewildering. Was he trying to play devil’s advocate? ‘You know I can’t. He’s ill, he might...’
The hand on her shoulder was light but strangely comforting. Finding Zach Gavros comforting in any sense of the word must mean she was in a worse state than she’d thought.
‘If I say something and he dies...how am I supposed to live with that?’ she choked out.
‘Alekis is tough and he has an army of medics on hand. Anything that happens is not your responsibility,’ he added, suddenly angry as hell with Alekis for putting his granddaughter in this position. ‘By this evening you can be swimming in the sea.’
She gave a sudden smile that lightened her expression as she responded to the tip of his head and walked towards the exit. ‘That would be something. I can’t swim.’
‘I’ll teach you.’ She was looking as startled by the offer as he felt.
‘Don’t be nice to me or I’ll cry.’
‘Relax, I’m never nice. Ask anyone. Living on an island, swimming is a necessary survival skill.’ As was keeping women like this one an emotional mile away, women who couldn’t believe that sex could be just that, women who wanted something deeper and more meaningful, women who needed an emotional depth he simply didn’t have.
* * *
It was an exaggeration to say the hotel was next door to the airport, but it was conveniently close.
‘It’s very nice,’ she said, keeping up the same flow of polite conversation she had during the car transfer. It helped maintain the illusion of normality but was, she realised, starting to sound desperate.
Actually, the hotel, part of a luxury chain she had vaguely heard of, was extremely nice in a plush, upmarket way.
‘Thank you.’
She threw a questioning look up at Zach’s austerely handsome profile. ‘The chain is a relatively recent purchase. It was a bit tired, but it’s amazing what a refurb can do.’
‘You own it?’ Well, that explained the manager who was rushing out to greet them before personally escorting them to the private entrance to the penthouse floor, where the elevator door was flanked by men wearing suits and dark glasses who spoke into the headsets they were wearing.
Kat hesitated before she stepped inside the lift, taking a moment to pull her shoulders back and lift her chin.
Stepping in after her, Zach felt a twinge of admiration. It was impossible not to. She looked as though she were walking into a lion’s den, but, my God, she was doing it with style!
The swishing upward ride took seconds and then the doors were silently opening.
‘He is as nervous as you.’
Kat lifted her eyes. ‘I seriously doubt that. I feel like I used to when I hid.’ She had always had a hiding place ready when the loud voices had started, a place to crawl into and try to be invisible.
No hiding place now, Kat! Just do it!
He sensed she had not even realised what she had said, words that might not have made sense to many but, as someone who had tried very hard to be invisible, he knew that she was talking of an experience similar to, but he really hoped not the same as, his own.
He found himself hoping grimly that the mother who had abandoned her had retained enough motherly feeling to protect her child from violence, the sort that had scarred his own youth.
The golden eyes lifted to his. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop myself, that I’ll say something really bad—I’m so angry,’ she whispered, pressing a hand to her breastbone as if to physically hold in the storm of emotions raging there.
‘Don’t be afraid. You’ve a right to be angry.’ Maybe she would have the apologies and explanations he’d been robbed of.
‘I thought you were team Alekis.’ He has a beautiful mouth... The thought drifted through the tangled knot of thoughts in her head as she stared at the sensually carved lines... Had he really kissed her? The memory, like everything else, had an unreal quality.
‘You won’t say anything to hurt him. You’re too...kind.’ He allowed himself the comment because he spoke as an objective observer. He was not here to get involved in the relationship between grandfather and granddaughter. He carried the inescapable taint of his own family with him through life without getting involved in someone else’s family conflict.
The way he said kind, he made it sound like a defect—not that Kat felt kind as her attention narrowed in on the figure seated in a large chair that made her think of a throne, placed centre stage in the room.
She’d seen photos online, but this man was older, much older, yet even with a craggy face, drawn, with fatigue deepening the shadowy bags beneath his eyes, you could sense the power coming off the man. Then, a second later, she saw the eyes beneath the thick white eyebrows were filled with tears.
The wave of emotion that hit her was so unexpected and so powerful that all the other emotions seething inside her were swallowed up. This was her grandfather—her family.
‘Katina?’
She pressed a hand to her trembling lips as the figure in the chair held out his arms. ‘I am so s-sorry, Katina.’
Zach watched her fight to hold on to her antagonism and fail.
Even the relatively short time he had spent in her company meant that it didn’t cross Zach’s mind that her capitulation had anything at all to do with personal gain. This was about her generous spirit, and her longing for a family, or at least her idea of what a family was.
She was homesick for an idea.
The world called Zach reckless, a risk taker with a golden touch, but it was a lie. He never risked anything he was not willing to lose. Money was not important to him in itself. Lose a fortune, make a fortune—these were not things that would ever keep him awake. They were challenges, a test of mental agility.
True recklessness was what she possessed. It was the open-hearted way she ran towards the possibility of family and love, risking having her illusions shattered.
Zach admired it, and it appalled him.
Was he team Alekis? No, but neither was he the objective observer he wanted to be. Somehow this woman had awoken a protective instinct in him. He didn’t want to feel this way as he watched her cover the space between her and the old man, before dropping with graceful spontaneity to her knees beside the chair.
He turned abruptly and left, reminding himself that he was not part of this drama as he stepped into the elevator, pushing away feelings he didn’t want to name, let alone feel.
* * *
Part of Kat didn’t want to let go of her anger: it felt like a betrayal to her mother, but it had gone, burned away in that explosion of feeling. She’d practised her cold words but how could she be mean when he looked so frail and sounded so tearfully penitent? Though she got a glimpse of the iron man who people feared when he imperiously waved away someone who appeared to check his blood pressure.
A moment later the first man came back with reinforcements. Several nurses in uniform and the dapper figure in the three-piece suit did not react to the scowl directed at him.
‘I really must insist. These readings...’
For the first time, Kat realised that there were leads trailing under her grandfather’s suit, which were presumably giving readings in the connecting room.
‘All right—all right!’
Kat wondered if his capitulation had anything to do with the beads of sweat along his upper lip when he caught her hand.
‘As I was saying, it is a small gathering. Nothing too formal, drinks and mingling...’
Saying? she thought, playing catch up. She couldn’t recall him saying anything about a gathering, but then the short, emotionally charged conversation was a bit of a blur.
‘A sm
all press presence...’
Her heart started to pound and she felt sick.
‘Don’t worry, they are friendly, all invited. One of the advantages of owning an island is that it is easier to keep out undesirable guests.’ The claw-like hand tightened on her own, crushing her fingers. ‘You’re an Azaria, you’ll be fine.’
The medics closed in, wielding scary-looking syringes, and she backed away, unable to tell him that she wasn’t an Azaria and she didn’t fit into this life.
As she walked into the lift, the feeling of sick unease in the pit of her stomach grew. What had she just agreed to? Had she agreed to anything? She didn’t want to go to a gathering, whatever that meant, formal or otherwise.
As the lift doors opened, Zach peeled himself away from the wall he had been leaning against and stood there, hands in his pockets, looking at her.
‘You look like you need a drink.’ And maybe a hug? He banished the aberrant thought. He was not a huggy person, and with Kat hugs would not stay comforting for long. His long fingers flexed as he saw the image in his head of them sliding under that top and over her warm skin.
‘I’d prefer a few explanations. Gathering? Press?’
‘Ah.’
‘So you know what this is about?’ She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or resentful.
‘Basically we are talking cocktail party. Alekis invites a few tame journalists a few times a year, lets them mingle with what is actually quite an eclectic bunch—’
Her voice, shrill with panic, cut across him. ‘I can’t mingle.’
He didn’t look impressed. ‘Rubbish. Here’s the car now.’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what is going on.’
‘We need to control the flow of information. Denying rumours will only—’
Her eyes flew wide in alarm. ‘What rumours?’
His eyes lifted. ‘A story will appear tomorrow confirming that your grandfather had a heart attack. This is a story that would normally dominate headlines for weeks, excite a predictably hysterical reaction and hit market confidence.’
‘You couldn’t stop this story?’ Kat felt a bit guilty that she was relieved this was about market confidence and not about her.
There was a ruthless quality to the thin-lipped smile he gave in response that made her shiver. ‘I planted the story.’
The addition of obviously was silent, but quite definitely there. Confused by that as much as his admission, she shook her head. ‘But you just said—’ she began, feeling her way.
‘I said normally. On this occasion Alekis’s illness will be buried by the much more exciting information that he has been united with his long-lost granddaughter.’
‘So, you’re using me.’
She sounded shocked by the discovery. His dark brows flattened into a line of exasperation above his obsidian stare.
‘This was not my idea.’ He wasn’t trying to deflect her anger, but he decided it might be a good thing that she recognised that even at death’s door her grandfather was not a warm and cuddly person.
It was bizarre he had to spell it out, but despite her upbringing, inexplicably it seemed to come as a shock to her that anyone had motives that were not pure and elevated.
He wasn’t going to be the only one to notice her lack of guile and sophistication, but he might be the only one who wasn’t trying to use it to his own advantage. You did not have to be psychic to predict that if she didn’t toughen up, and quick, she was going to be a soft touch for every hard-luck sob story going. He hoped for her sake she was a quick learner, or else she was in for some painful lessons in human nature.
She glanced towards the building behind them. ‘He?’
‘Alekis delegated, but yes, the plan is his. It’s nothing sinister. We’re controlling the flow of information. Or would you prefer some tabloid breaks the story, sensationalising it? Perhaps digging up an old lover to publish a kiss-and-tell?’ He saw no benefit from telling her that this might happen anyway. There were going to be disgruntled ex-lovers coming out of the woodwork once the news of the heiress hit. ‘This way your exposure is controlled. Hiding you away would have photographers in helicopters flying over Tackyntha with telephoto lenses.’
Her startled eyes looked up at him as she slid into the car. ‘People will want to take my photograph?’ she said as he joined her.
‘Are you trying to be facile?’
She shook her head.
He sighed and pushed his head into the leather headrest. ‘Belt up, Katina.’
She did and sat there looking shell-shocked.
Zach waited until the car moved away and into the traffic before he spoke. ‘You are going to be one of the wealthiest women in Europe, Katina. People will all want to know what you had for breakfast, what your favourite colour nail varnish is. They will discuss what you’re wearing and speculate on your sexuality, whether you have an eating disorder or a drug problem.’
He watched as the horror of the reality hit home, feeling like a bastard, but better a bastard on her side than one who could exploit the vulnerability on display in her wide eyes and trembling lips.
She half rose in her seat before subsiding, no parachute, no escape—no escape. ‘Oh, God!’ she groaned, closing her eyes. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Yes, you can.’
His firm, unsympathetic rebuttal made her eyes fly wide as she directed a glare of simmering dislike at him. She had seen lumps of granite with more empathy than he possessed.
‘The way you handle yourself these first few weeks is important, will set a pattern. Alekis’s wealth means people don’t have automatic access to you. I can put up some barriers to protect you.’
She pushed away the images of walls around a gold-lined cage that flashed through her head, telling herself not to be such a drama queen. There was plenty to be nervous about without inventing things.
‘You hide away and people will assume you have something to hide. We need to create the illusion you are open,’ he explained, digging deep into his reserves of patience as he explained what was obvious. ‘While telling them essentially nothing.’
Her dark feathered brows lifted. ‘We?’
‘All right, you. One of the first things you need to remember is trust no one, no one,’ he emphasised grimly. ‘Not everyone you meet will be out for a piece of you,’ he conceded.
‘Just ninety per cent of them. What a relief!’ She quivered. He was really selling this lifestyle. ‘I’m not stupid, you know. I might even be able to work out which knife and fork to use. I am a fast learner.’
‘That remains to be seen. I won’t pretend it isn’t going to be a steep learning curve.’
‘Oh, I really wish you would pretend that it is.’
He responded to her attempt at humour with a hard look. ‘But you will learn to judge. Learn your own style. Until you do, that’s what I’m here for.’
She fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. ‘So you mean you’ll put the words in my mouth and tell me what to wear.’ She folded her arms across her chest and directed a belligerent stare up at his face. ‘I’m not a puppet.’
‘No. From where I’m sitting you are...’ He completed the sentence in a flood of angry-sounding Greek before finally dragging a hand through his dark hair as he sat there, lips compressed, dark eyes burning.
‘I don’t understand Greek.’
‘I said,’ he gritted out, ‘I am trying to protect you, but if you would prefer I throw you to the wolves...?’
As their eyes connected, glittering black on gold, a strange little shiver traced a slow, sinuous path up her tension-stiffened spine.
‘What is this? Set a thief to catch a thief, or in this case a wolf to catch a wolf?’ It was true, there was definitely something of the lean, feral predator about him, which she could see might appeal to some wome
n.
‘For your information, I have not spent my life in a protective bubble and I’ve been coping without a guardian angel—which, for the record, is definitely major miscasting—all my life. I resent being treated like a child.’
Were you ever a child? he wondered as his glance moved in an unscheduled slow sweep over her slim, tense figure, oozing hostility, before coming to rest on the outline of her lips. The dull throb in his temples got louder as he saw faceless wolves drawn to the delicious invitation of their plump pinkness.
The barrier of his clenched teeth did nothing to shield him from a fresh onslaught of painful desire. Alekis had put him in a ‘rock and hard place’ position. He couldn’t lay a finger on her without betraying the trust the older man had, for some reason, placed in him and he couldn’t walk away, either.
‘So, we are going to the island.’
‘It doesn’t take long by helicopter.’
Kat felt reluctant to admit she’d never flown in one. ‘And do your family live there too? Is that how you know Alekis?’
A look she couldn’t quite put a name to flickered in his eyes. It was gone so quickly that she might have imagined it.
‘No, my family do not live there.’
‘But you have family...?’ she asked, remembering how he had spoken about his mother’s death. ‘They were there for you after your mother died?’
‘You think because our mothers are dead that gives us something in common? It does not.’
She flushed. If he’d tried to embarrass her, he’d succeeded. Did he think she didn’t know they came from two different worlds? That she needed him to point out they had nothing in common, that he had been raised in a world of wealth and privilege that she knew she would never fit into.
Being orphaned was always an awful thing for any child, but in Zach’s world there were cushions...nannies, good schools. None could replace maternal love, but it helped if you had the support structure of a family, especially one that meant you didn’t stand out because your clothes were not the latest fashion, or you had no holiday to talk about at the start of a new school term.