The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel

by Lucy Gordon

  He laid his forehead against her.

  ‘And I was afraid you’d find me too demanding,’ he said.

  ‘You could never be demanding enough,’ she assured him. ‘The more you demand, the more you fulfil me. You’ve given me life, as though my real self had only just been born. I don’t think you really understand that yet, but you will, my love. It will take time.’

  ‘And we have all the time in the world,’ he said, taking her into his arms.

  Now their lovemaking was different, infused with the knowledge of each other’s heart that they had just discovered. To Petra it was more like a wedding night than the real one she’d known years ago.

  At some time in the dawn he murmured, ‘There’s a story of how, after Achilles’ death, he was honoured as a great lord among the other dead souls. But he longed only to be alive and said he would rather return to live on earth as a servant than stay among the dead as a lord. I never understood that story until now.’

  ‘You mean,’ she mused, ‘that if I were to treat you like a servant, that would be fine as long as you were with me?’

  He considered. ‘Can I think about that some more?’

  He felt her shaking against him and joined in her laughter. She watched him with delight and saw an answering delight in his eyes. He touched her face and spoke softly.

  ‘Love me,’ he said in a voice that almost pleaded. ‘Love me.’

  She knew a surge of joy and reached out to caress him, draw him back into her arms and show him that he belonged there. They made love slowly, yet with a subtle intensity that said more than a million words.

  It was much later that it occurred to her that he’d said not, Make love to me, but ‘Love me.’ And only when it was too late did she understand the distinction.

  Next day he swept her out into the car and drove down to the shore.

  ‘But not the same as last time,’ he said. ‘This is a fishing village-at least it was when this island still had a thriving fishing industry. Now they cater for tourists who are interested in fishing. It’s time you met my friends.’

  His friends turned out to be a family of one-time fishermen, who greeted Lysandros like a long-lost brother and drew Petra into the warmth.

  There seemed to be dozens of them. She lost track of the husbands, wives, sons, daughters, cousins, nieces and nephews. She only knew that they all smiled and treated Lysandros as one of the family.

  ‘My mother brought me here for a holiday when I was a kid,’ he explained. ‘I ran off to go exploring, got lost and the family rescued me. We’ve been the best of friends ever since.’

  She guessed that they’d been well rewarded. The fishing boat on which they now ran tourist expeditions was top of the range. But it was hard to be cynical about these people and when Kyros, the patriarch, said that the nicest thing about Lysandros was not his generosity but the days when he could find time to visit she felt inclined to believe it.

  He seemed to size her up, finally deciding that he could trust her with further confidences.

  ‘One day, years ago,’ he told her, ‘we found him wandering alone on the beach. We hadn’t known that he was coming here. He hadn’t let us know, or come to the house. Later he said he’d meant to visit us but he arrived in the early morning when the beach was deserted and he thought he’d take a walk. He walked there for hours. A friend saw him and told us. I went down there and walked with him for a while, but he wouldn’t come home with me.

  ‘Then my sons took over and they walked with him all night, up and down, up and down, the length of the beach. He was like a machine, talking only in grunts. At last he began to slow down and we managed to persuade him to come with us. We put him to bed and he slept for two days.’

  ‘Did he ever tell you what made him like that?’ Petra asked.

  ‘I don’t think he knew a lot about it. He just seemed to have been lost in another world, one he couldn’t remember or didn’t want to remember. We didn’t press him. He was our friend, in trouble, and that’s all we needed to know. We did suggest that he should see a doctor, but he said we had been his doctors and he wanted no other. I’ve never seen him like that again so perhaps we were able to make him a little better. I hope so, anyway. He’s such a nice guy.’

  It was obvious that he knew nothing of the reality of Lysandros’s life. The well-known name Demetriou told him that this was a businessman, rich enough to buy them the boat, but they had no conception of the full extent of his fortune and power.

  And that was why they mattered to him so much, Petra realised. They were the close-knit, loving, knockabout family he’d never had and would have loved to have. To them he was ‘a nice guy’, a little removed by his money, but not enough to stop him being one of them.

  Unlike virtually everyone else, they neither feared him nor showed exaggerated respect, which was a relief to him. Instead, they ribbed him mercilessly, yelled cheerful insults, challenged him to races along the sand and rioted when they beat him.

  The girls cast soulful eyes at his handsome face and powerful, elegant movements, but their husbands and boyfriends pulled them firmly aside, glaring possessively, daring Lysandros to try to take advantage, forgiving when he didn’t.

  How different from the Athens husbands who would pimp their wives into his bed in exchange for a contract. No wonder Lysandros loved coming here. It was his only contact with normal life, and the sight of him relishing it was as much a revelation as anything she’d learned in the last few days. He even helped Kyros’s wife, Eudora, with the cooking.

  Later Eudora whispered in her ear, ‘You’re the only woman he’s ever brought here. That’s why everyone’s looking at you. Don’t tell him I told you.’

  She gave a satisfied nod, as though she personally had brought about the miracle, and scurried away.

  Afterwards they went out in the boat. Dressed in a swimsuit, Petra sat in the prow, wondering if life could get any better than this.

  She drew a deep contented breath, looking up at the sky, then around her at the sea and the horizon. There, a little distance away in the boat, were Lysandros and Kyros chatting casually, laughing in the easy way of friends.

  Then she blinked, uncertain whether she’d seen what she thought she’d seen.

  Was she going mad, or had Kyros cocked his head significantly in her direction, mouthing the words, ‘Is she-the one?’

  And had Lysandros nodded?

  I’m fantasising, she told herself hastily. I can’t have read Kyros’s lips at this distance. Can I?

  But when she looked again they were both regarding her with interest. To save her blushes she dived overboard and Lysandros joined her.

  ‘Careful, it’s deep out here,’ he said, holding out his hands to steady her.

  She took them and he trod water, drawing her closer, closer against his bare chest, until he could slip his arms right around her, kissing her while treading water madly. Behind them they could hear cheers and yells from the boat.

  When they climbed back on board Kyros hinted slyly that there was a cabin below if they wished. More cheers and yells while his wife told him to behave himself and he silenced her with a kiss. It was that sort of day.

  Returning home, they ate their fill before going out into the village square where there was dancing. Lysandros could dance as well as any of them. The girls knew it and queued up for their turn. Petra was untroubled. She had all the male attention she could possibly want, and she was enjoying the sight of him unselfconscious and actually seeming happy.

  He saw her watching him and waved before being drawn back into the dance by three young females at once, while their menfolk looked on wryly. At the end he blew each of them a kiss before holding out his hands to Petra and drawing her onto the floor.

  ‘Dance with me,’ he murmured. ‘And save me from getting my throat cut.’

  He was showing her off in public, but why? To make a point to the others, or simply because he was more than a little tipsy? Joyfully she decided tha
t she didn’t care. This was the man nature had meant him to be before the demons got their destructive hands on him, and if it was the last thing she did she would open the door that led back to that world and lead him through it.

  ‘We ought to be going,’ he gasped at last. ‘The trouble is, that wine Kyros serves is…well…’ He sat down suddenly.

  ‘And everyone else is as woozy as you,’ she said. ‘Even me.’

  ‘I’m not.’ The young man who spoke was the eldest son of the house, wore a priest’s garb and was stone cold sober. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

  ‘And I’ll pay for your taxi back,’ Lysandros said sleepily. ‘Done.’

  On the way home they sat in the back, with his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed. As the car came to a halt the priest looked back and grinned.

  ‘I’ve never seen him let go like that before,’ he said. ‘I congratulate you.’

  She didn’t ask what he meant. She didn’t need to. Her spirits were soaring.

  Lysandros awoke long enough to hand over a bundle of notes. ‘That’ll pay for the taxi. Anything over, put it in the collection box.’

  The priest’s eyes popped as he saw the amount.

  ‘But do you know how much you’ve given-?’

  ‘Goodnight!’ Lysandros was halfway up the path.

  She undressed him while he lay back and let her do all the work.

  ‘You think you’re a sultan being attended by the harem,’ she observed as she finished.

  He opened one eye. ‘It seemed only fair to show you that I can behave as badly as any other man who dances with a dozen women, gets smashed out of his mind and lets his wife wait on him. Goodnight.’

  He rolled over and went to sleep on his front, leaving her with the view of the most perfectly shaped male behind she’d ever seen, and wondering if he knew he’d called her his wife.

  He slept late next morning, unusual for him. She rose and made coffee, returning to find him leaning back against the pillow, one arm behind his head and a wicked look in his eyes. Nor was the wickedness confined to his eyes. A glance at the rest of him told her that he was ready to make up for the deficiencies of the night before.

  But she decided not to indulge him at once. They drank coffee sedately, although the look in his eyes was far from sedate. She showed no sign of noticing this, but after a while she slipped off her flimsy silk nightdress and began to find small jobs to do about the room, knowing that they gave him a perfect view of her from various angles.

  ‘Do you have to do that?’ he asked in a strained voice.

  ‘Well, I thought one of us should do some tidying up,’ she said innocently.

  ‘Come here!’

  Wasting no further time, she raced to the bed and took him in her arms.

  ‘Just let me love you,’ she said.

  ‘As long as you do love me,’ he said heavily.

  ‘I do. I always will.’

  He would have spoken again but she silenced him by laying her mouth against his, taking his attention so that at first he didn’t notice her softly wandering hands until the excitement building with her caresses overtook him totally and he drew a long shuddering breath.

  ‘I have ruthless ways of making my wishes known,’ she whispered against his mouth.

  ‘I believe you,’ he groaned.

  ‘You think you know me, but you haven’t begun to discover what I’m capable of.’

  ‘Why don’t you-show me?’

  She let her fingers explore a little further, reaching the place between his legs where his response was rapidly growing out of control. ‘Like that?’

  ‘Just like that.’

  Now her fingers were enclosing their object, revelling in its size and the thought of having it inside her. Then she moved over him so that she could fit her legs astride him and make him hers in her own way.

  She had the glorious sense of being able to do anything she wanted. Everything was right because they were together and did everything together. It was right to celebrate their hearts but also right to celebrate their bodies as they were doing now. So she did as she pleased, confident of pleasing him at the same time, and knew by his expression that she’d outdone herself.

  ‘That was very nice,’ she said, luxuriating in his arms afterwards.

  ‘Very nice?’ he growled. ‘Is that the best you can say?’

  ‘Do you have anything else to suggest?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘I have plenty more to suggest. Come here-’

  ‘Suppose I don’t want to?’

  ‘You’ve left it much too late to say that. Now, come here.’

  Carolling with laughter, she raised her arms over her head and cried, ‘Shan’t!’

  ‘Oh, yes, you will.’

  So she did.

  When Lysandros’s cellphone began to ring he regarded it for a long time before saying reluctantly, ‘I suppose I ought to answer that.’

  ‘I’m amazed you haven’t been on the phone more often,’ she said. ‘In fact I’m amazed it hasn’t rung more often.’

  ‘I gave strict instructions to my staff not to disturb me unless it was vital. Linos, my assistant, is pretty good that way. He’s called a couple of times, I’ve given him instructions for managing without me and so far he’s not done too badly. But I suppose-’ He sighed.

  ‘We have to get back to the real world.’

  He kissed her. ‘After this, the real world will be different.’ He answered the phone. ‘Yes, Linos? Oh, no, what’s happened? All right, all right, one thing at a time.’

  Sad but resigned, Petra made her way upstairs to start packing. The dream life couldn’t last for ever, and now was the time to see if it could be carried into reality. The omens were good.

  ‘I’ve called the airport,’ she said when Lysandros appeared. ‘There’s a flight to Athens in a couple of hours.’

  He sighed and put his arms around her. ‘I wish you’d said a couple of years, but I suppose we have to take it. There’s a big meeting coming up that Linos says he can’t manage without me.’

  ‘It had to happen some time,’ she said. ‘The sound of battle, summoning you to the fray.’

  ‘It’s funny how that doesn’t sound so good any more. But you’ll be with me, and we can start making plans.’

  Her lips twitched. ‘Plans for what?’

  He rested his forehead against hers. ‘Plans for the future, and if I have to explain that to you, then I’ve been wasting my time recently. Unfortunately, this isn’t the moment to make the point. But I think you know what I’m talking about.’

  Marriage. He hadn’t posed a formal question but he acted as though matters were already settled between them, and she knew it was a sign of their closeness that he felt free to do so.

  She went with him upstairs to take a last look at the smashed room he’d shared with Brigitta, but she refused to go with him to the grave.

  ‘You need to say goodbye to her alone,’ she said gently. ‘If I’m there it will spoil it for her.’

  ‘How can you speak so?’ he asked in wonder. ‘As though she was real to you, as if you’d met her and talked to her.’

  ‘They say that nobody ever comes back across the River Styx,’ she mused, speaking of the river that ran between earth and Hades, as the underworld was often known. ‘But I wonder. If someone has something important enough, a message that they simply must deliver-well, let’s just say that I think some part of her might still be there. But she wants you to talk to her alone. I don’t really belong here.’

  He frowned. ‘Do you mean not to come back to this house with me?’

  ‘I don’t think she wants me to. This is her place. You and I can have somewhere else. Keep this for her, to honour her.’

  Her words fell like blessed balm on his soul. He’d been wondering how to solve this conundrum, fearing that the part of his heart that remained loyal to the past might offend her. But she’d understood, as she understood everything about him. He kissed her and walked out
into the grounds, offering thanks as he went.

  Petra watched him until he disappeared.

  The grave lay quiet in the afternoon sun, with only the faintest breeze disturbing the branches of the trees overhead. Lysandros stood there for a long time, listening, but there was only silence.

  ‘Perhaps she imagined it,’ he whispered at last, ‘or perhaps you really can talk to her and not to me. We never could open our hearts to each other, could we?’

  Overhead, the leaves rustled.

  ‘I tried my best. Do you remember how desperately I talked to you as you prepared to cross the eternal river with our child in your arms? But you never looked back, and I knew I’d failed you yet again. That failure will be with me always.

  ‘Petra was right to say that I honour you still, and that will last for ever. This place will always be yours and no other woman’s. Nothing can change that.

  ‘But there has been a change in me-can you forgive that, if nothing else? It seems almost wrong to find happiness with her after so much that we could have had, and lost, but I can’t help myself. She is everything to me, yet I still-honour you.’

  He couldn’t have said what he was hoping for, but nothing came-no sign, no message, no absolution. Only the wind became stronger until it was gusting fiercely in the trees, shaking the branches. Autumn was still some way off, yet the leaves were falling, seeming to bring the darkness closer.

  Suddenly he couldn’t bear to stay here. Turning, he hurried back to the light.

  At the Villa Lukas the air was buzzing with the news that the bride and groom would soon be home from their honeymoon.

  ‘Such a party there’s going to be!’ Aminta carolled. ‘Everyone is coming-the press, the television cameras-’

  ‘Any guests?’ teased Petra.

  ‘All the most important people,’ Aminta said blissfully.

  ‘No, I mean real guests-friends, people the host would want anyway, even if the press have never heard of them.’

  Aminta stared at her, baffled. It was clear that after years of working for a billionaire shipping magnate she barely understood the concept of friendship for its own sake, so Petra laughed and went on her way. After all this time as part of a film star’s retinue, why was she surprised? Perhaps because her time alone with Lysandros had caused a seismic shift in her perceptions.