Ellie was careful to wipe any hint of anticipation from her face. This was a business trip, after all. Regardless of how much she was secretly looking forward to it, this was not for pleasure and it would have been inappropriate to behave otherwise.
Cal’s question did surprise her, though. Most of the time, she thought he didn’t even know she was around. Besides putting dinner in front of him every night, she rarely saw him. Their house wasn’t that big, but Cal liked to glue himself to the television, while Ellie preferred a quiet corner with a good book and a cup of tea. Their finances didn’t allow for nights out, but even if they had, Cal much preferred Ellie’s cooking to any restaurant, and scoffed at the exorbitant prices of going to the movies when they could hit the Redbox at the corner gas station for a buck and change.
“Maybe Jack will send you some accounts you can work on from home,” she suggested helpfully.
Jack was Cal’s supervisor at the accounting firm where he worked. In a classic case of bad timing, Cal had slipped on a wet floor in the men’s room, the result of a clogged toilet, and wrenched his back and neck in the process. That was almost four months ago, and Cal hadn’t been back to the office since. Disability covered some of the expenses, but it was Ellie’s salary that kept them afloat financially. If Cal could pick up a few assignments, it would be good for their budget and give him something constructive to do while she was away.
“Maybe,” he said doubtfully, wholly unenthused. “But you know the doctor said sitting at the computer for any length of time isn’t good for my back.”
Ellie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from responding. Some men completely ignored medical advice, choosing the time honored “tough it out” philosophy. Her dad was like that. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” he would always say. She could count on one hand the number of times her father had taken a sick day. Proud and stubborn, he was more likely to grin and bear it than complain.
Cal, not so much. He was on the other end of the medical spectrum, one of the few people she knew who adhered strictly to whatever treatment plan was applied. If he had to take two pills every four hours, he would do exactly that, setting the alarm on his phone so he wouldn’t forget. If he was supposed to get eight hours rest, he did. And if the doctor told him to avoid anything strenuous for six months, including sitting at a desk for more than an hour or so at a time, he would.
He wasn’t a hypochondriac, exactly, but every sniffle, every ache, every twinge was thoroughly researched on Wikipedia, WebMD, and cross-referenced with a few other sites designed to feed those who fretted, worried, and obsessed over their health.
“Maybe your mom can come by and help out for a few hours here and there.”
Cal brightened at that. “Yeah, maybe.”
Ellie knew better. There was no maybe about it. At thirty-two, Cal was still his mom’s baby. Bernice Cavanaugh made no secret of the fact that Cal was the one bright spot in an otherwise unremarkable life, and that she had never considered Ellie quite good enough for him. Bernice would probably have a field day with this. She had already dropped enough not-so-subtle digs about Ellie “abandoning her husband in his time of need” simply because she worked full-time.
Ellie wondered vaguely if Bernice would be willing to pay all their accumulating medical bills if Ellie gave up her job and stayed home to take care of Cal “like a proper wife,” even though he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
First and foremost, Cal always took care of Cal.
Ellie sighed quietly and tucked the small bag of toiletries among the neat stacks of clothing. Perhaps some good would come from this short time apart. Without her there to do everything, maybe Cal would realize just how much she did every day. And who knew? Maybe he would even miss her a little, too.
Chapter 6
Nik glanced down at Ellie’s brand-new passport. She gripped it in her hands as if it was a priceless treasure, instead of a piss-poor photo that failed to capture her true essence.
“What does the R.E. stand for?” he asked as they settled themselves in the deep, comfortable reclining seats of the corporate jet.
“What?”
Nik bit back his smile. He had never seen the unflappable Ellie quite so distracted. Her eyes were everywhere, looking around the plane as if she had never seen anything like it. Her normally calm eyes were bright with excitement and wonder, even through those murky brown lenses. She could barely sit still, her legs crossing and uncrossing as she moved, turning and twisting to take in everything around her. She was, quite possibly, the most adorably anxious woman he had ever seen.
“The initials on your passport,” he repeated. “What do they stand for?”
“Oh.” She blushed slightly, looking down at the armrest and stroking the soft leather. He half expected her to point out that, like his inquiry into her reason for wearing contact lenses, it was a very personal question. Surprisingly, she didn’t.
“Raven Elena.”
Nik didn’t say anything for several long moments. The name struck a chord deep inside him, reverberating with the rippling sound waves of a perfectly pitched bell.
Vaguely aware that she was holding her breath, Nik couldn’t look away when she raised her eyes to meet his. The uncertainty he saw there tugged at something in his chest.
“That is a most beautiful name, Mrs. Cavanaugh,” he murmured, wondering why on earth anyone with a name like that would want to be called something as common as Ellie.
“Do you think so?” she asked, biting her lip again and casting her eyes downward. It made him want to lean closer and free her bottom lip with his thumb, then kiss it to take away the sting.
“Definitely,” he said quietly. “Did you know that the name Coronis—Raven in Greek—appears several times in our classic mythology?”
“It does?”
“Yes. There is the tale of the rain nymph, one of the Hyades. Also of a king’s daughter who was turned into a crow by Athena after fleeing from the sea god, Poseidon. Coronis is also the name of one of Apollo’s lovers.” Nik couldn’t prevent the downturn of his lips at that last one. Apollo, like many of his uncles, had ruined more than his share of fair maidens.
“I had no idea,” she told him.
“It suits you, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
When he felt her eyes land upon him once again, he made certain he was reclining in his seat, eyes closed to discourage any further discussion on the subject. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember he was her boss.
And that she belonged to another.
* * *
Ellie steeled herself against certain disappointment as they disembarked and were immediately shuttled into a waiting limousine. It was dark, and the tint on the windows discouraged casual sightseeing.
That was okay. As excited as she was to be in Greece, or Hellas, as he called it, she was in no hurry to be disappointed.
She leaned her head back against the comfortable seat and closed her eyes, letting the quiet hum of the vehicle and the scent of her boss’s cologne settle her mind.
Almost at once, the visions came. Ellie welcomed them, their familiar presence the result of years of dreaming and clandestinely reading paranormal romances. The Greece in her head was filled with white cliffs, ancient ruins, an azure sky, and a sparkling sea.
The modern-day country wouldn’t be anything like that, though. Just as the videos of current-day Iraq were nothing like the lush and abundant Garden of Eden she pictured in her mind, as were the now war-ravaged lands that once housed the wondrous hanging gardens of Babylon.
That was one of the reasons she preferred watching History Channel specials to networks specializing in world news. Seeing the reality of what once-great civilizations had become was physically painful to her. Her soul silently wailed at such loss, wishing some of that ancient magic still existed in today’s world. She much preferred her frequent dreams of ancient cities like Rome, Mesopotamia, and particularly Athens, to their modern-day equivalents;
preferred to pretend that legendary peoples still thrived and wonders of the world were more than crumbled ruins or myths.
Therefore, when they finally stopped and Nikolaos Deimos took her lightly by the arm to assist her out of the limo, she naturally thought she was still daydreaming.
The massive, terraced villa was built right into the cliffs, overlooking the sea. Torches blazed in welcome on every level as several people came out to welcome them. Nikolaos was forced to release her when he was embraced warmly, responding to their greetings in perfect, fluent Greek. It sounded like sweet music to her ears. When he spoke English in those deep, velvety tones, she got shivers up and down her spine. However, when he spoke Greek, her very bones were in danger of melting.
“My personal assistant, Raven Elena,” he said in English, pointing toward Ellie with a mischievous glint in his eyes. She was rather surprised that he used her real name, but not quite as much as she was by the delighted shivers that went through her at the sound of it rolling off his tongue.
Two dark-haired, olive-skinned men smiled warmly, then grabbed their luggage from the trunk and took it inside. Nikolaos gave a few instructions in his native Greek, then turned to Ellie and held out his hand.
“Come. This has been a long journey. I will show you to your room, where you can freshen up before dinner.”
Ellie looked at his hand, unsure of whether to take it or not. He was her boss, after all, and she was a married woman. Then she realized she was being ridiculous. He was just being a gentleman. A man like Nikolaos Deimos would never be interested in someone like her.
Decision made, Ellie placed her hand loosely in his.
The moment they touched, she had the oddest sensation of something warm and lovely flowing through her, like a mild electrical current. She looked up quickly to see if he had felt it, too, but he had already released her hand and was moving forward.
Surely it was just a build-up of static electricity, she told herself, relegating the minor shock to trivial status as she took in the expansive manse.
“This is where we are staying?” she asked, as he led her through spacious, airy rooms that seemed to be white slabs of stone surrounded on three sides by walls of glass, reminding her vaguely of ancient temples. She had been expecting him to drop her off at some budget hotel in town. “Both of us?”
Nikolaos gazed down at her and smiled. “Yes. When in my native country, I prefer my own home.”
“You own this?” Whether from exhaustion because she had been too excited to sleep a wink on the plane, or from shock at seeing an up close and personal view of incredible wealth, her unwavering composure slipped a few notches.
“Yes. I own properties all over the world. It affords a sense of consistency when travelling amongst corporate offices to surround myself with familiar things. That way, I always feel at home wherever I am. Do you find it suitable?”
Suitable? Was he kidding? “It’s ... wow. Just ... wow.”
He grinned at her. The man was devastating when he grinned. “Not very eloquent, perhaps, but accurate.” He led the way up to the third floor and stopped in front of a door on the right. “This is where you will be staying. Please, make yourself at home. When you are ready, please join me on the ground terrace for a light supper.”
In yet another gentlemanly move, Nikolaos opened the door for her.
Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes. One entire wall consisted of glass panels covered in gauzy white sheers. The panels were open, allowing the fresh, cool sea breeze into the room. The carpet was a deep turquoise, so thick and plush that she sunk down several inches on her first step. The walls were painted in a colorful, soothing pattern of greens and blues, with white-wood-framed artwork adorning them. A massive, king-sized, four-poster bed sat on a raised dais to the left with white curtains that matched the glass panels hanging all around it. Other furniture included a mirrored, white triple dresser; a white leather chair with a matching ottoman; and a white wood and glass table. A small hearth took up part of one of the side walls, built with white stone marble with what looked like sparkly quartz.
“Wow,” she murmured yet again. Never in her wildest fantasies had she ever imagined a bedroom like this.
It only took a few minutes to unpack since she didn’t have much. She did spend a significantly longer amount of time in the en suite bathroom.
Like the bedroom, a white and marble theme dominated the room. White marble Jacuzzi tub; white and silver tiled, six-head shower stall; and a white marble double-sink vanity. There was a toilet, of course, and another fixture that could only have been a bidet. She had read about them, but had never actually seen one before. Not quite brave enough to try it out just yet, she made a silent promise to do so at least once before she left.
Reminding herself that her boss was waiting for her, Ellie hurried through a quick wash up then changed into a pastel yellow sundress and sandals. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to, but the clothes she had arrived in were wrinkled and in need of a good airing out after nearly twenty hours of travel.
With a murmured promise to come back later and make use of the tub and shower, she brushed out her hair, spritzed on some vanilla and honey-scented body spray—a guilty, last minute indulgence—and then made her way back down to the ground floor.
Ellie was glad she had taken the time to wash and change when she found Nikolaos in loose, white linen slacks and a matching short-sleeved shirt that highlighted the natural bronze of his skin and hair.
Upon sighting her, he stilled.
“Is something wrong, Mr. Deimos?” she asked, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. The dress was pretty and feminine, nothing at all like her usual business attire. Had she already unwittingly made a faux pas?
“Not at all, Mrs. Cavanaugh. I am just unused to seeing you look so ...” He paused, searching for the right word.
“Ridiculous?” she finished, feeling heat and color trying to climb the column of her neck. She lifted her hand, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Breathtaking,” he corrected.
Her blush deepened, but not out of embarrassment.
“May I ask a favor of you?” he asked softly and with none of his usual arrogance.
It took her a few precious seconds to process the fact that he had asked, really asked, not demanded as he usually did.
“Of course, sir.”
“While we are in my home, please refrain from calling me sir.”
“Oh. Would you prefer Mr. Deimos, then?”
“Yes. Assuming, that is, that you would not feel comfortable calling me Nikolaos?”
“Oh no, I couldn’t do that, sir. I mean, Mr. Deimos.”
“Would you mind terribly if I called you by your given name?”
“Ellie?” she asked uncertainly, smoothing her skirt. “I suppose that would be all right. Most people do.”
“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of Raven.”
Suddenly uncomfortable, she cast her eyes downward and shifted her weight ever so slightly. Raven was her secret alter ego, the one she kept locked away, the one who lived in those wonderful, imagined escapes. Raven was that part of her that was, at that very moment, inwardly squealing with glee, nearly drunk with the bliss of being someplace she had been dreaming about her whole life.
Nonetheless, Raven had to remain buried deep in her psyche. If he started calling her Raven, she might start acting like Raven, and she could never allow that. Raven could never survive in this world.
“I prefer Ellie, if you don’t mind.”
Chapter 7
“As you wish,” he said smoothly, hiding his disappointment. He was not surprised, not really. Greece was a truly magical place, but it would take more than a few hours and a compliment to coax her from her shell. Like most immortals, Nik had learned the virtues of patience, so for now, he would simply endeavor to get her to relax a little.
He held a chair out for her while she sat, then took his own seat across from her. Again, she seemed to b
e taken off guard by the simple gesture, which made his heart ache. He wondered when the last time was she had been treated like a lady.
“I hope you find traditional Greek food to your liking, Ellie,” he said. “Since it is your first time here, I thought I would give you the full experience.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever had Greek food,” she confessed. “Unless you count the gyros they sell at the fairgrounds.”
Nikolaos barely refrained from scrunching up his nose in disgust. He most certainly did not consider such things authentic Greek food, especially not when made by those who had probably never tasted a properly prepared gyro in their lives. He would not point that out, however. He was afraid to lose what little progress they had made.
“Then you are in for a treat. By the end of our visit, you will be an aficionado of our fine cuisine. We shall start with the basics.”
Having her full attention, he signaled for the first course. “We tend to eat our meals later than Americans,” he informed her. “And for our evening meal, we will begin with a light revithosoupa, or chick pea soup. We will then follow with souvlaki, a form of skewered kabobs, which I think you will enjoy. And for dessert, we shall partake of one of my personal favorites—loukoumades.”
Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I don’t know what that is, but it sounds interesting.”
“Honey puffs.”
“Even better.”
Each course had been excellently prepared—Nik was very particular about his staff—and Ellie took great delight in sampling a little of everything. It was a joy watching her enjoy herself and experience new things. She was like a delicate flower just beginning to bloom.
“If all meals are like this,” Ellie said as the last of the dishes were cleared away, “I’ll have to sign up for Weight Watchers as soon as I get back.”
Nikolaos laughed. “I certainly hope not,” he confessed. “Today’s women put far too much value on such things. Men prefer women with curves.”
Immortal Dreams: A Mythological Romance Page 5