His voice dropped to a murmur. ‘What do you remember?’
Trapped in his stare, she found herself unable to lie. ‘Everything. Now can we move on?’
* * *
A weekend at his Agon home gave Theo the perfect backdrop to glory in the fact that he was not alone in remembering everything he and Helena had shared. It had bothered him more than he’d admitted to himself that he might be the only one who remembered every detail.
Leaving her to her own devices for her first weekend on the peninsula was as calculated a move as leaving her to her own devices every night had been. He knew his nightly absences would drive her crazy. Let her think he was respecting her request for professionalism by day, but let his absence unleash her imagination by night. Helena had an incredible imagination. She’d shown it in so many ways. Her increasingly inventive imaginings of lovemaking. The riddles set as poems she’d loved to write for him. Her ability to imagine he’d slept with every woman they’d come across...
He planned to torture her slowly, keep her guessing and slowly reel her back into his snare. And it was working! Every casual invitation to join him for an evening of fun was met with a refusal that sounded less emphatic than the last.
And now he had proof their time together had left its mark on her too.
For three years he’d kept distant tabs on her career. Part of him willed everything she touched to turn to gold, the other half hoped everything she touched turned to dust. During those years he’d never listened to a voicemail without first thinking it might be Helena, having come to her senses and begging him to take her back. He had his response ready for this eventuality: a deep chuckle followed by a firm, ‘No,’ and then him terminating the call.
In his heart he’d known his fantasies weren’t worth the effort he put into making them. Helena wasn’t sitting around pining for him and regretting her foolishness in throwing their future away. She was working hard and living her focused life. The hidden side of her that had bloomed for Theo had been packed away again, unwanted. She’d packed the love she’d once held for him away with it.
But she did remember!
The tight control she’d kept herself under was on the verge of unravelling. All it would take was a little tug and the veneer of control would be gone...and Helena would be his for the taking.
* * *
Helena knew the gentle knock on her office door belonged to one of the housekeepers rather than Theo. For a start, Theo never knocked, and if he did she was quite sure it would be with the force of a battering ram.
‘Come in,’ she called.
Elli poked her head around the door. ‘Are you ready for lunch?’
She forced a rueful smile. ‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’ Not quite a lie. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry but that her stomach was so knotted she didn’t think she’d be able to get any food into it.
Where was he?
‘You are sure?’
‘I had a massive breakfast.’ That was true. She’d woken after a welcome good night’s sleep with a real spring in her step. She had no idea why she’d woken in such a good mood but it felt as if the sun’s rays had penetrated her heart. She’d been ravenous too and eaten everything Elli and Natassa had offered.
The sunrays beaming in her heart had slowly seeped away as the morning stretched out.
‘Okay. Well, if you get hungry, just call.’
‘Thank you.’ Then, because she had to ask, ‘Have you heard from Theo?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t expect to. He only tells me when he won’t want an evening meal.’
Which had been every night since Helena’s arrival.
When he’d sauntered off for his weekend sailing, or whatever he was doing, he’d thrown a casual, ‘See you Monday morning,’ over his shoulder. He was yet to return.
Alone again, Helena removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She supposed she should have called Elli over to look at the draft plans she’d created for the kitchen. After that excruciating moment where she’d admitted remembering everything, she’d looked away from him and broken the brief silence to ask, again, if he had a chef in mind to consult about the kitchen. She’d been afraid to look at him, the memory of them laughing in agreement that the odds of either of them using the kitchen to cook food being pretty much zero, surprisingly painful.
His reply had been to consult Elli and Natassa, which she had done over a shared lunch with them during the weekend.
His beautiful housekeepers, who both cooked as if they’d been sprinkled with angel dust, were staying. When the house was complete, they would move from the small purpose-built studio they shared at the back of the lodge into the lodge itself.
Helena hoped the acid burning her stomach at this hadn’t reflected on her face, especially as the two Greek women were so excited about it. She’d learned over the weekend that they were both artists. Sharing the roles of live-in housekeeper and chef gave them a roof over their heads, an income and the time and space to produce their art. She supposed it was possible that Theo hadn’t noticed their physical attributes when deciding to employ them. It was also possible that pigs really did fly.
Where was he?
Had he had an accident? He should be here.
She closed her eyes and took five long breaths, but it didn’t quell the rolling in her stomach or the growing tightness in her chest. When she put her glasses back on she had to blink a number of times for her vision to clear. Her concentration remained shot.
A vision of his yacht capsizing flashed through her mind.
Removing her glasses again, she put a hand to her heavy heart and took another five breaths, assuring herself he was fine, of course he was fine. She mustered some dark humour to think that he’d better have had an accident or she would kill him for his lazy unprofessionalism...
Her office door opened and he strolled in, a grin on his gorgeous face. ‘Good afternoon, agapi mou. How was your weekend?’
She shot up from her seat, suddenly light-headed. Without her glasses her vision was atrocious, but even so she could see the stubble on his unshaved face and the mussed hair. For once he was wearing an actual suit, an expensive, hand-tailored navy blue one with an open-necked white shirt, the tie removed.
As he neared her, she caught the scent of feminine perfume clinging to him, intermingling with his woody cologne.
‘Helena?’
She stared at him, clenching her teeth, the relief that he was alive and well already fading as the horrible perfume filled her airways, almost making her gag.
He tilted his head. ‘Why are you looking like you want to stab me?’
She hadn’t realised her temper was hanging by a thread until it snapped. ‘Where the hell have you been?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEO OPENED HIS mouth but Helena was in no mood to let him answer. She was perilously close to retching. ‘Don’t bother. I can smell where you’ve been. You said you’d be back before breakfast. It’s already lunch time! I’ve a million things to run by you, but while I’ve been sitting here twiddling my thumbs waiting for you to turn up, you’ve been off shagging.’
He raised a brow. ‘Shagging?’
‘You know—that thing you’re an expert at. Quite frankly, I couldn’t care less who you shared a bed with last night—from the look and smell of you, I’d be surprised if you even bothered with a bed—but I will not tolerate your hedonism impacting on my time. You stroll in four hours after the working day’s begun without a care in the world and have the cheek to ask why I look like I want to stab you? I don’t want to stab you, you selfish arse. I want to punch your selfish face.’
There was a glimmer in his eyes as he contemplated her before saying silkily, ‘You sound jealous.’
His observation acted like a red rag to a bull. ‘You wish. Either you find the decency to keep your hedonism outside of working hour
s or I’m going home.’
He moved closer to the side of her desk, his voice dropping to a murmur. ‘You think?’
She glared at him with all the venom she could muster. ‘Don’t think my signing the contract means you get everything your way. There are employment laws, you know, whatever you might think.’
‘If you want to take your chances with the law, then go ahead. I won’t try to stop you. But if you want to prove that you’re not the little girl who ran away any more and prove that you’ve matured into a woman, then that means dropping the prudish, indignant act.’
Outraged, Helena shoved her chair back and stormed over to him. ‘You patronising, sexist—’
‘Cut the outrage. It’s boring.’ But he didn’t look bored. Quite the opposite.
‘The only thing that’s boring is your endless procession of women,’ she spat. ‘Don’t you have any—?’
But whatever she was about to shout at him evaporated from her mind and died on her tongue when an arm suddenly wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him.
Legs weakening on impact, heart hammering in her throat, she gazed up at the face of the only man on this earth with the potential to make her laugh like a drain and cry like a baby. The only man on this earth who made her feel anything.
The back of a long, tapered finger brushed down her cheekbone, sending shivers dancing over and through her skin. The wide mouth curved at the corner, a spark of light in the ice-blue eyes. ‘Hello, Helena,’ he murmured. ‘It’s good to have you back.’ And then the wide mouth covered hers.
The impact of his lips pressed against hers was immediate. Every cell in her body gave a collective sigh as long-forgotten sensations ignited and pulsed through her in an instantaneous rush. Resistance didn’t cross her mind. Her lips parted and, hooking an arm around his neck, she raised herself onto her toes, closed her eyes and sank into the warmth of his coffee-scented mouth and hard body. Her breasts were crushed deliciously against his chest as he tightened the embrace, holding her so securely that she didn’t need her legs, weakened further by the surge of molten heat between them that fired into being as the hard ridge in his trousers pressed against her abdomen, to keep her upright.
In the breath of a second the kiss turned into something wet and savage. Hands flattened and swept possessively over her back, sending sensation careering over her skin, her greedy fingers scraping over his nape and into the soft bristles of his hair.
Dragging her mouth from his, suddenly hungry to taste his skin, she grazed her lips and tongue across the stubbled jaw and down to the hard column of his neck...
And was immediately assailed by the cloying scent of another woman’s perfume.
Sanity returned with the same rapidity with which it had been lost.
‘No!’ Frightened at how quickly and immediately she had fallen back into the Theo sickness that had once controlled her, she shoved his chest for good measure.
Backing away, she didn’t dare look at him, but even in the periphery of her blurred vision she saw the rapid rise and fall of his chest. She could hear the raggedness of his breaths.
‘I am not a cheap toy hired for you to play with.’ She tried to spit the words out with venom but her voice cracked. Terrified she was going to cry, she turned to the perpetually filled coffee pot. She poured herself a mug but her hands were shaking so hard that much of it slopped over the rim and spilled onto the floor.
The feel of his gaze on her was almost as potent as his touch and she held onto the mug for dear life.
‘On the contrary,’ he drawled. ‘Your services do not come cheap.’ Before she could respond, in outrage or otherwise, he continued. ‘I’ve brought the director of the construction firm I’ll be employing to build the house over to meet you—she’s waiting in the dining room. You might want to straighten your clothes before meeting her.’ Then, striding to the door, he called over his shoulder, ‘And, Helena, the next time you want to know the details of my sex-life, just ask.’
* * *
Theo suppressed the amusement bubbling inside him to see his green-eyed monster’s reaction to the flamboyant director. Savina Mercouri was older than his mother would be if she were alive, had flowing, colourful fabrics draped around her rotund body and wore a perfume that could easily be mistaken for toilet cleaner. She was also the director of one of Greece’s most respected construction companies, with a reputation for completing builds on time and within budget, and a knack for sourcing material from around the world with ease. She was also a tactile hugger.
If he’d known that all it would take to get Helena to lose her temper was to walk into her office with the scent of another woman’s perfume clinging to his suit, he would have bought a bottle and drenched himself in it.
Finally, his beautiful goddess had cracked.
Helena’s jealousy, he’d learned during their relationship, was something that had frightened her far more than it had bothered him. In truth, he’d liked it. It was different to the sulky pouting displayed by former lovers if he spoke to another woman for more than two minutes, the lover not realising this childish petulance was the kiss of death for a man who did not like to feel trapped. Theo liked his freedom. He needed it. Helena was the only woman he’d wanted to be trapped with. She was the only woman he’d discovered his own jealous streak with. To witness her bursts of possessiveness had fed his need for proof that her love was as strong as his.
He’d seen the relief on her face when he’d walked into the office. She’d been worried about him. Fear had turned to anger, which in turn had become a diatribe that had delighted him. This was the Helena he remembered. The woman with passion in her soul. The woman who had discarded her inhibitions and embraced whatever emotions were racing through her blood.
It wouldn’t take much more to tempt her into his bed. The passion with which she had kissed him back told him louder than any subtle cue from her body language how much she still wanted him. The chemistry that had once driven them both to the brink of madness still lived in her veins as much as in his. That he still evoked jealousy in her too...
She did still feel something for him.
Gazing at her now, speaking hesitant, unpractised Greek to Savina, he wondered idly how deep her feelings for him still ran. His feelings for her had, of course, died when, after he’d waited an hour for Helena’s arrival at the cathedral, the cold truth had finally washed through his denial. She wasn’t coming. Helena had gone for good.
There he’d stood, in front of family—his and hers—and friends and business contacts...everyone he knew including royalty, there to witness Theo pledging himself to the love of his life. Instead, they’d borne witness to his humiliation. Sure, he’d plastered a smile to his face when he’d turned to the two-hundred-strong congregation in Agon’s cathedral and announced that the wedding was off. He wasn’t stupid enough to think it had fooled them any more than his jovial invitation for them all to join him to celebrate his lucky escape at what should have been his wedding reception.
The Lucky Escape party had gone on until the sun had come up the next morning, but no matter how hard he’d partied or how much alcohol he’d tried to numb himself with, bitter humiliation had run deep. When his grandfather, in a moment of reflection a few days later, had kindly told him that his heart would one day mend, Theo had laughed loudly. His heart was just fine. Had he not survived the death of both his parents within three months of each other? Now, that had been pain. Excruciating, unbearable pain. The only blow Helena had inflicted on him had been to his ego. That it had felt as unbearable as his parents’ deaths he was not prepared to admit...
Helena had killed his love for her. In hindsight, he should be grateful she had severed it so neatly, without the protracted falling out of love so many couples had to suffer.
But he had trusted her. He had thought he would grow old with her. She had sworn that she loved him, trusted him and w
anted to grow old with him. It had been a harsh, humiliating lesson but he had learned from it. Trust no one. Love no one. Keep control of the heart and never be vulnerable to hurt again.
* * *
‘Still working?’ Theo asked later that evening when a search for Helena found her holed up at her desk.
‘Still here?’ she responded, not looking at him.
‘You get me to yourself for the whole week.’
‘Lucky me,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘No, agapi mou, lucky me. Time to stop what you’re doing—dinner’s ready.’
‘I’ve told Natassa I’ll eat in here.’
‘It’s eight o’clock.’
She raised a shoulder and tapped something on her keyboard with one hand while pushing her glasses up her nose with the other. ‘I’m in the middle of something.’
‘The middle of avoiding me?’
‘Don’t flatter yourself.’
‘Then look at me.’
He saw her eyes close briefly behind the large frames before she fixed her gaze on him, her beautiful face unreadable...except for the clenching of her jaw. Helena was in no way as nonchalant as she pretended to be. Since their kiss earlier, she had avoided looking him in the eye. She had spoken to him only when she had to. The carefully put-together appearance that had had an air of dishevelment earlier had deteriorated.
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.’
His Greek Wedding Night Debt Page 7