by Sara Craven
She turned to Androula. ‘Thank you.’ She made an awkward gesture. ‘It’s lovely.’
The housekeeper inclined her head politely. ‘You rest now,’ she said. ‘I will send someone to bring you to dinner at eight o clock.’
And on that, she departed, closing the outer door behind her. And, Selena realised in horror, locking it, too.
She was just about to rush over and beat on the panels, shouting ‘Come back,’ when she saw, just in time, another key lying in the centre of the coffee table, and realised her host was probably not the floor’s sole occupant. And allowed herself a faint groan of relief that she hadn’t made an utter fool of herself twice in one hour.
She’s right, she thought. Maybe I do need to rest. Also—get a grip.
She retrieved her forlorn cotton robe from her bag and went to the bathroom, where she took a long, satisfying soak in the tub, then stretched out in the middle of that vast bed and gratefully closed her eyes. She was asleep within minutes.
It was already after seven when she awoke, and for a while she lay watching with languid pleasure how the evening sunlight slatted through the shutters across the marble tiles.
Yes, she had to get ready, but it wouldn’t take long. There weren’t any anxious choices to make over how to dress for dinner. There was her denim skirt with a white top, or her denim skirt and the other white top.
Travelling light has its advantages, Mr Constantinou, she addressed him silently as she wriggled off the bed.
It was the prettier of the two maids she’d seen earlier who came to collect her and escort her to the restaurant on the ground floor, and her sideways glance, although polite, conveyed she was not greatly impressed by either the denim skirt or the other white top, or by the fact that Selena, on some inexplicable impulse, had plaited her hair into the severe braid preferred by Aunt Nora.
But then, thought Selena, I’m here on business, not out to impress—anyone.
The dining room was a large, airy room, most of its tables already occupied, and Selena attracted little attention as a waiter conducted her to a secluded corner partly screened from the rest of the room by a trellis supporting foliage plants growing in terracotta pots.
As she sat down, Selena realised it was the first time she’d ever eaten alone in a hotel. What a sheltered life you’ve led, Miss Blake, she mocked herself.
It had only just dawned on her that the table was set for two when Alexis Constantinou appeared, sauntering across the dining room, exchanging smiling greetings with the other diners as he approached, and clearly heading straight for her corner.
Oh, please no, she begged under her breath as her tense fingers crumpled the linen napkin she was spreading on her lap.
‘Kalispera,’ he said as he took the chair opposite. ‘That means good evening.’
‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘I picked up a few words on the flight. That was one of them.’
No one would have mistaken him for a barman now, even someone with an Olympic gold for leaping to conclusions, she conceded ruefully.
He’d shaved, for one thing, and the elegant, pale grey suit he was wearing was offset by a charcoal shirt, carrying the unmistakable sheen of silk, and open at the neck, revealing several inches of bronzed, hair-darkened skin, which it would be safer to ignore.
No, not handsome, she thought in sudden bewilderment, but stunningly, mind-blowingly attractive in a way she’d never encountered before. Or never been aware of, at any rate.
By contrast, she must look like something the cat dragged in.
‘Excellent.’ He smiled at her. ‘Perhaps during our acquaintance, we will be able to extend your repertoire.’
‘I doubt if there’ll be time.’ She adjusted a perfectly placed fork, crossly aware that her skin was warming. She added hurriedly, ‘I’m hoping that you have some news for me.’
‘I have certainly made enquiries among the staff,’ he returned. ‘But so far, without result.’
‘Perhaps they’re shielding him.’
‘I never thought he was that popular,’ he said drily. He paused. ‘It seems, this time, he took the trouble to be discreet.’
This time, Selena repeated under her breath and winced.
He saw and said more gently, ‘Forgive me. I meant it might indicate that this time he could be genuinely in love.’
‘In two weeks?’ Her objection was instant and vehement. ‘That’s ridiculous. No one could possibly fall truly in love that quickly.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘Of course not. People have to—to like each other first. Be friends. Enjoy each other’s company. Have shared interests, and learn respect for each other’s opinions.’ My God, she thought. I sound like my great-grandmother.
His brows lifted. ‘That is how it was for you?’ His tone was politely interested.
And what was she supposed to say to that? To admit she could count the number of her dates, all strictly casual, on the fingers of one hand?
It might be best, safer, she thought uneasily, to make him think she was involved. ‘Yes,’ she said defiantly. ‘As a matter of fact.’
‘And that is how it sounds, pedhi mou.’ His dark eyes glinted at her. ‘Matter of fact.’
A change of subject seemed well overdue. She said, ‘What do you keep calling me?’ She tried to pronounce the words as he had.
‘It means—my little one.’
She lifted her chin. ‘Then please don’t say it again. It’s—demeaning. I am not a child.’
‘Po, po, po,’ he said softly. ‘Then why tie back your beautiful hair like a little girl at school?’
‘Because it’s cool,’ she said. ‘And neat.’
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘That is how you see yourself, perhaps?’
‘I’m too busy to give it much thought,’ she retorted. ‘Besides, all that’s important to me right now is my sister’s well-being.’ She paused. ‘How do we go about finding her?’
‘Quietly,’ he said. ‘Another reason not to go to the police. People talk and news travels fast. It is better your sister does not know you are here to collect her, so she and Kostas do not run away to another island, or even to the mainland and add to your difficulties.’
He beckoned and a waiter arrived at the table with an ice bucket, a gold-foiled bottle and two flutes.
‘Champagne?’ Selena asked incredulously. Another first. ‘What is there to celebrate?’
‘As yet, nothing.’ He shrugged. ‘So let us toast a beginning. The launch, if you wish, of our quest and its ultimate success.’
She could hardly refuse, even though she felt out of her depth, caught in some swift, disturbing current that she ought to resist.
The wine was cool, crisp and tingling against her dry throat, as other waiters began to bring plates and a dish containing some kind of green vegetable like small fat cigars.
‘Dolmades,’ her companion told her as they were served. ‘Vine leaves stuffed with lamb, rice and herbs.’
Warily, she sampled a bit, then, surprised and delighted, another larger mouthful, savouring the various flavours, and saw him smiling at her.
‘Good?’
She nodded. ‘Wonderful.’
As was the grilled swordfish with sauté potatoes and salad which followed. And, of course, the champagne, its bubbles seeming to dance along her senses.
The dessert was just right, too—a bowl of fruit to share—peaches, and marvellously sweet figs that he told her had come that day from the garden at the family villa.
‘You must have a lot of trees,’ she commented, glancing at the now-crowded dining room.
‘They are not for everyone. I had them brought specially to welcome you to Greece.’
She flushed. ‘Efharisto, Mr Constantinou.’
‘Parakalo,’ he returned. ‘And must we be so formal? As I have told you, my name is Alexis.’
‘I think formality is best,’ she said. ‘Under the circumstances.’
‘Even though you will be spen
ding tonight in my bed?’ His question was soft and her flush deepened hectically as she struggled for composure.
She said jerkily, ‘Please stop saying things like that. In Britain, it could be considered harassment.’
‘But now you are in Greece,’ he said with a shrug. ‘And I have only spoken the truth, unless you plan to sleep on a sofa or the floor.’ He paused. ‘Tell me something. Why did you not come on holiday with your sister?’
‘I had a vacation job. Besides, she was coming with her friends.’
‘And your parents permitted this?’
She bit her lip. ‘My parents were killed in a car accident. Our aunt acts as our guardian and though she wasn’t keen on the holiday at first, she was persuaded by one of the mothers that they’d be fine on such a small island.’
‘Yet human nature is the same everywhere. And you had to give up your job to come here?’
‘I’d already done so. My aunt tripped in the garden and broke her leg and needed me at home.’
‘So how does she manage without you now?’ He was frowning.
‘She’s paying someone,’ Selena said shortly. ‘Now may I ask you something?’
‘If you wish.’
‘How is it you speak such good English?’
‘My mother was born in America. Although she came to Greece to give birth to me, their only child, she and my father lived mainly in New York, and continued to do so after their divorce when my time was divided between them.’
‘That must have been—difficult.’
‘Divorce is always hard for children,’ he said quietly. ‘It is better to deal with mistakes in marriage before they are born.’
She was silent for a moment. Then: ‘I suppose in that way we were lucky,’ she said slowly. ‘My mother and father adored each other and we felt surrounded by happiness. When they were—taken like that, it was dreadful for us, but I’ve thought since that it was good for them to be together. That if just one had died, the other who was left would never have recovered. They’d have been just part of a person.’
She stopped abruptly, shocked by what she’d said, what she’d let him see—this disturbing stranger that she wasn’t even sure she could trust.
She remembered trying to say something similar to Aunt Nora when she was younger, and what the cold reply had been.
‘I’m sorry,’ she added quickly, trying to force a smile. ‘I know that sounds—ridiculously morbid.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It does not.’ He paused. ‘Has she been kind to you, this aunt?’
‘Yes. Of course.’ She straightened her shoulders, silencing inner voices, drawing down mental blinds. ‘It can’t have been easy for her to be saddled with two pre-adolescents, but she’s coped wonderfully.’
He inclined his head politely. ‘So wonderfully that your sister cannot wait to escape, whatever the means.’
‘My sister,’ she said, ‘as you’ve admitted, has been seduced by a serial womaniser, and is probably, and quite naturally, scared of the repercussions.’ She added, ‘We live in a small town and there’s bound to be unpleasant gossip, so I’m here for damage limitation, not to burden you with our family history.’
‘It is not a burden.’ He signalled to a waiter. ‘I suggest that after coffee, you go up to the flat and get some sleep. You have had a long and worrying day, and tomorrow the search truly begins.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘But I think I’ll sleep better without coffee.’ She rose, and he, too, got to his feet. ‘Goodnight, Mr Constantinou.’
‘Kalinichta, Kyria Blake.’ His smile was tinged with irony. ‘Until tomorrow, then. Sleep well.’
He didn’t add ‘in my bed’ this time but he might as well have done, Selena thought mutinously as she made her way across the dining room.
And knew, if she looked back, as she had no intention of doing, she would find him watching her go.
Her laundry finished, Selena removed it from the tumble dryer and folded it with care, aware that her hands were shaking.
I should have left the next morning, she told herself for the thousandth time. Got up early and slipped away, leaving a note at the desk, thanking him and saying I’d decided to pursue my own enquiries.
Instead, there she’d been, back in the restaurant, breakfasting on fresh orange juice, warm rolls with honey, and a pot of strong filter coffee, staring through the windows at the sunlight dancing on the water. And forbidding herself to look round every time the faint squeak of the double doors announced a new arrival.
But when her meal was over without any sign of Alexis Constantinou, she was at a loss what to do next.
Perhaps he’d had second thoughts about helping her, she told herself. After all, he had a hotel to run. So she would simply revert to Plan A: go to the police and risk the gossip mill alerting Millie and her boyfriend.
But as she walked out into the foyer, he was waiting for her by the reception desk, casual in cream chinos and a black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and unbuttoned almost to the waist this time, she saw, her throat tightening.
‘Kalimera.’ His dark glance appraised her own white cut-offs and navy tunic top, then rested briefly on her hair, once more deliberately plaited into a long braid and hanging down her slender back. But he made no comment. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes,’ she said, adding awkwardly, ‘Thank you.’
‘And you have eaten, so we can go.’ Briskly, he ushered her out of the hotel and through the garden to a Jeep, waiting at the gate.
She hung back. ‘Go where?’
‘To find Adoni Mandaki, a local fisherman who is also a friend of Kostas.’ He handed her into the Jeep, then swung himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. ‘I heard in a bar last night that his boat is missing, but he himself has been seen in the town, drinking and playing tavli as if its absence did not disturb him, and he has no living to earn.’
‘A boat.’ Selena bit her lip. ‘Do you think Kostas and Millie have left Rhymnos?’
‘That is what I hope he will tell us,’ he said as they drove down the hill towards the harbour.
She said slowly, ‘So, after you sent me to bed, you came down here asking questions about my sister. It didn’t occur to you that I might want to be there to hear the answers? And maybe ask some questions of my own?’
He shot her a swift glance. ‘It occurred,’ he said. ‘But I dismissed it.’
‘Ignoring the fact that I had a right to be there.’
‘To do what? To shout at everyone in English until they told you what you wanted to hear?’ His mouth twisted. ‘Believe me, it would not have worked. And I decided you needed a night’s rest.’
She stiffened. ‘Then maybe you’d consult me in future before making any more arbitrary decisions.’
‘I will try to remember. In return, perhaps you will now agree to call me Alexis. And tell me your name also.’
‘Why is that necessary?’
He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Because it suggests that we are on—friendly terms.’
Selena stiffened. ‘I think it might imply rather more than that,’ she said icily.
‘So, people will see me spending a day in the sun with a pretty tourist,’ he countered. ‘What of it? Once we have found your sister, you will persuade her to leave with you and go, and that will be the end of it.’
He paused. ‘Surely that is worth the temporary inconvenience of my company?’
She said reluctantly, ‘You make me sound very ungrateful.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘I think you are frightened, and you have reason. It is no easy thing you have been asked to do—to come all this way to a strange country and alone, when you cannot speak the language and do not know where to look.’
He sighed abruptly. ‘I see this and I should have more patience. And perhaps you could try to trust me. Believe that I wish to help you.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Thank you—Alexis.’ She hesitated. ‘And my name is Selena.’
‘Selena
,’ he repeated, his brows lifting. ‘In our language Selene—the goddess of the moon.’
‘But people usually call me Lena,’ she added hastily.
‘Sacrilege,’ he said softly. ‘For a girl with hair the colour of moonlight.’
She felt an inner jolt as if she’d missed a step downwards. Knew, too, that she was blushing. ‘And Millie’s really Amelia,’ she went on, aware that she was babbling. ‘Perhaps she’s named after a goddess, too.’
‘Alas, no,’ he said. ‘But maybe to Kostas, she is Aphrodite herself. We shall soon find out.’
‘I hope so.’ And she meant it.
Because, as she’d suddenly realised, however scared she might be for Millie, she, too, was in danger, with an equally urgent need to get away.
CHAPTER FOUR
YET NOW HERE she was—once more flying to Millie’s rescue, she thought wryly, as, back at the house, she began her packing. But this time the situation was very different, because she would be spared the agonising possibility of encountering Alexis again.
As Kostas had confirmed, he had indeed gone for ever, as she’d been told in that horrifying interview all those months ago.
And now, surely, she could begin to look to a future with hope, not regret.
God, what a fool I was, she thought bitterly, extracting a folder of photographs from a drawer, and tucking one of them into her bag. ‘Trust me,’ he said, and I was naïve enough to believe him.
And telling herself that, at the time, she’d had little choice was no excuse.
Because, even as they drove along the quayside that first morning in search of Adoni, she could have said she’d changed her mind and requested him to take her to the police station instead.
But she didn’t because she was already starting to flounder in a maelstrom of unaccustomed emotions.
At the same time, the bustle at the harbour held its own fascination, too. The air still held the aroma of last night’s charcoal grills. The caiques were unloading their first catches amid shouting and laughter. Owners of souvenir and clothing shops were unrolling awnings and bringing out their display stands, and at the tavernas, cloths were being anchored to the tables with plastic clips, tiled floors hosed down and tubs of geraniums watered.