by Sara Craven
However I need to know what your plans are. Although I’m not the only one, as Neil keeps calling to ask when you’re coming home too.
On top of all this, right out of the blue we’ve had a really good offer to buy Helping Out from The Home Service, which under the circumstances—you in Greece, me in America—we should consider.’
The figure she mentioned made Natasha gasp before she hastily read on.
‘I planned to write to your Athens address,’ the letter continued, ‘but Mr Stanopoulos, your lovely Greek lawyer, who’s been overseeing everything this end, tells me you’re travelling, and he’ll see my letter’s delivered. He also thinks The Home Service’s offer is too good to miss.
I just hope it’s not all a horrible shock, especially when you’ve had to cope with the shipping lines being sold off.
Let me know what you think, and also that you’re all right. In spite of assurances from Mr Stanopoulos, I’m starting to worry. And pretty soon I’m going to need a bridesmaid too. And the letter was signed, ‘From Molly, with love.’
Natasha went back to the beginning and reread the whole thing, feeling her first confusion turning to suspicion. Closely followed by anger.
Although she wasn’t angry with Molly. She and Craig were made for each other, so of course she’d want to be with him, and Natasha wished them both nothing but everlasting happiness.
The Home Service, and its offer, was a different matter. It was a very large network of companies, offering every aspect of household maintenance, repairs, plumbing, electrics, small building works, decoration and design, and domestic cleaning. And now, apparently, it wanted to extend its activities into the kind of individual care and support that Helping Out provided.
And with Molly going to America and herself temporarily out of the picture, they’d certainly picked the right moment to step in.
As if, she thought, her heart thudding, they’d known…
My entire life—just signed away.
As her own words came back to her, she pushed her coffee away so abruptly that it spilled across the white tablecloth.
Because she’d spoken them, she thought angrily, to that same Mr Stanopoulos who was apparently in London, purporting to act on her behalf. And, in spite of his past assurances, this was exactly what was happening.
If she allowed this, she’d be going home to nothing. No job, an empty flat, and an uncertain future to add to the inevitable heartbreak of being Alex’s discarded mistress.
The edifice of her existence totally dismantled, forcing her to start again—somehow—completely from scratch.
Well, it wasn’t going to happen. She had to have something to provide a diversion from the desperation of love and loss.
This is my business, she thought stormily, pushing back her chair and rising, the letter clutched in her hand. My livelihood and my future. All I’m going to have in the world. And I won’t let it go. I can’t…
She marched into the house, making straight for the dining room. Iorgos was standing outside in faithful sentinel mode, and he gave her a startled look. ‘Kyrios Mandrakis does not wish to be disturbed, thespinis.’
‘Tough,’ said Natasha, and ducked under the arm intended to bar her way. She flung open the door and walked into the room beyond.
The meal had been cleared away, and the coffee and brandy stage had been reached, the table littered with paperwork and cigar smoke heavy in the air.
As Natasha walked in, six heads swivelled to look at her in silent astonishment. Then, as their eyes absorbed her bikini-clad figure under its thin veiling of black and silver, she saw the growing smiles, and the amused murmurs of, ‘Po, po, po,’ from all of them except Ari Stanopoulos, who looked faintly anguished, and Alex, whose face wore no expression whatsoever.
He rose to his feet, and the other men followed suit.
He said quietly, ‘Natasha mou. I am involved in a business meeting.’
‘So I was told,’ she retorted. ‘And I too have business to discuss.’ She faced him, her chin lifted, her eyes glittering as she tossed her letter onto the table in front of him.
‘I’d like you and your henchman here to understand one thing. I am not selling my company. So if this is your idea, forget it. When I return to the UK, I intend to pick up my old life where I left off. Do I make myself clear?’
‘I think this is something we need to talk over in private,’ Alex said calmly. He turned to the rest of the company. ‘Perhaps you would excuse me for a few minutes, gentlemen.’
One of the men said something quietly in Greek that was greeted with a ribald shout of laughter from the rest. Alex grinned, shrugged ruefully and picked up the letter before walking round the table to Natasha. His hand gripped her bare shoulder, propelling her from the room in a way that brooked no argument.
He walked her swiftly past the stricken Iorgos and down the corridor to his private office, and took her inside, slamming the door behind them.
Leaning against the big desk which dominated the centre of the room, he looked her up and down.
‘So,’ he said with a certain grimness, ‘I see that you are still seeking ways in which to try my patience, Natasha.’ He flicked the letter he was holding with irritable fingers. ‘What is so urgent about this that you need to disrupt an important meeting? Burst in half-naked like a crazy woman?’
She said defiantly, ‘You’ve never seemed troubled in the past over how little I was wearing. The less, the better, in fact.’
‘Yes—when we are alone,’ he said, ‘but not if I am in conference with male colleagues.’ He paused. ‘You realise what they imagine is now happening between us.’
Her colour rose. Her Greek might have lost much of its fluency but thanks to Stavros and Andonis, she’d recognised one particularly graphic word from that muttered comment just now.
She said with a touch of breathlessness, ‘Then they’ll be wrong—won’t they?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But that will not prevent the kind of speculation I was anxious to avoid.’
Natasha lifted her chin. ‘Haven’t you left it rather late in the day to decide you want to keep your personal life private?’
‘No,’ he said shortly. ‘But let us waste no more time.’ He glanced through the letter, his mouth tightening. ‘You are being asked to consider a generous offer to buy your company, Natasha. What is the problem?’
‘There is no problem,’ she said. ‘I’m not going to sell, that’s all.’
‘So you say,’ he said slowly. ‘But perhaps it is not that simple.’
Her voice was suddenly husky. ‘Please don’t tell me that your lawyer has agreed to this in my absence.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘He has not.’
‘And you’re not behind it—in some mysterious way?’
He said flatly, ‘Until Ari mentioned this proposal, I had never heard of the company. Does that content you?’
Natasha paused, then gave an unwilling nod.
‘We make progress.’ He paused. ‘Now, tell me something. Is Kyria Blake just a friend who works for you, and shares your living accommodation?’
‘No, of course not,’ she said hotly. ‘Molly’s an equal partner in the firm.’ She punched a fist into the palm of her other hand. ‘Oh, God, if I was there in London, if you hadn’t tricked me into leaving, all this would never have happened. I’d have put a stop to it at once.’
He said coldly, ‘You are being irrational, Natasha mou. Could you have prevented your friend’s fiancé taking a job on the other side of the world, or talked her out of joining the man she loves?’ He shook his head. ‘I think not. So what will happen when the partnership ends, as it must?’
‘I began Helping Out by myself,’ Natasha said. ‘I can run it alone in the future.’
‘Can you?’ he asked softly. ‘And what of Kyria Blakes’s wishes?’
She said quickly, ‘Molly doesn’t want to sell, any more than I do.’
‘Are you so sure?’ He glanced down at the letter
, his mouth twisting. ‘Now, I would say she is undecided.’ He gave her a level look. ‘So let us be practical. If you refuse this offer, Natasha mou, can you afford to buy her out? She is entitled to expect fifty per cent of your company’s new market value.’
She felt hollow inside. She said, ‘Molly—Molly wouldn’t do that.’
‘Then she is either a fool or a saint,’ Alex returned sardonically. ‘And her future husband may take a different view of the situation. He may feel that her efforts deserve their just reward.’
She said in a stifled voice, ‘Of course, and I’ll deal with it. Get a bank loan for her share of the money if necessary.’
‘As the Papadimos brothers attempted to do with much better collateral?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I doubt your success.’ He added drily, ‘Unless, of course, you intend to offer your charming body as part of the deal once again. But I think most banks prefer their repayments in cash rather than kind.’
Anguished colour flooded her face. She said hoarsely, ‘That is—so unfair.’
‘You insisted on this interview,’ he said. ‘I did not. And perhaps I am not in the mood to be fair.’
He handed back the letter. ‘When you are calmer, I recommend that you give the matter careful thought, and let your head rule your heart when you make your decision.’ His tone was curt. ‘Now I must return to my meeting.’
As he went past her he paused suddenly and turned, his hands reaching for her shoulders. He jerked her towards him, into his arms, and his mouth came down hard on hers in a kiss that seemed to hold more anger than tenderness or passion.
For one endless moment she could not think—she could not breathe. Then, with equal abruptness, he let her go and walked to the door without looking back.
Natasha was left standing alone, staring after him, one hand pressed to her bruised mouth and the crumpled letter crushed in the other.
So this—this was the moment she’d longed for, she thought, trembling inside.
To be in Alex’s arms again. To feel his mouth on hers.
But their reunion was far from how she’d dreamed—how she’d planned it might be. And was it really so bad that she’d interrupted his meeting, inappropriately dressed?
Didn’t he understand that Molly’s letter had knocked her sideways? And that it wasn’t just the potential loss of her business, either, that had devastated her, but the fact that her best friend was going away, and she was going to be alone at a time when she needed help and support as never before?
Alex must surely realise that her company was her one remaining scrap of stability in a world that he himself had set reeling, and make allowances.
Except that he did not seem prepared to do so, she thought, swallowing. It was only her body that mattered to him, not her feelings. And it was clear that he had neither forgiven nor forgotten their previous parting.
Well, tonight when they were alone together, and she went into his arms, she could atone for that at least by offering him, without reservation, the physical response he required from her.
At the same time making absolutely certain that he did not guess even for a moment what her true feelings for him might be.
And in spite of everything else going on in her life, Natasha knew that would be the greatest difficulty she would ever have to face.
To love—to give—and to be silent.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WRITING to Molly wasn’t the easiest task Natasha had ever undertaken.
But after numerous false starts, during an endless afternoon, she eventually managed a version which sounded positive, even upbeat, about the deal with The Home Service and, at the same time, hid that, with her entire future in the melting pot, she was scared.
‘So we’ll both be making an entirely fresh start with our lives,’ she ended. ‘With my share, I’ll be able to go where I want, and do something completely different, if I please. And how exciting is that?’ She added, ‘And I’ll make sure I’m back in plenty of time for your great day.’ She signed it with her love, then folded the sheet and put it in the envelope, which she left open.
At some point she’d heard the helicopter take off, presumably to transport Alex’s visitors back to wherever they’d come from, and wondered suddenly and with dismay if Alex had left with them.
Suddenly there were no certainties any more, she thought, touching a rueful finger to her lips and wondering if, with that brief, harsh contact a couple of hours earlier, he’d been kissing her goodbye.
At sunset Josefina came tapping on the door, bubbling with excitement over the return of Kyrios Alexandros, and keen to help the thespinis to choose something suitably glamorous to welcome him home. Proving that he was still around, after all.
But to the other girl’s disappointment, Natasha gently but firmly sent her away. Tonight she would get ready for dinner alone. Dress in order to be undressed later, she told herself with a quiver along her senses that mingled anticipation and fear.
And, while doing so, she needed to think.
She’d already decided on her dress, simple and sleeveless with a brief swirl of a skirt, in a dark green silky fabric that clung to her slender curves in overt enticement.
But then, after that botched reunion, she needed all the help she could get, she thought as she showered, then dried her damp hair into a silken cloud on her shoulders as Alex liked to see it. She moisturised and scented her skin, then darkened her lashes with mascara and accentuated her mouth in a soft shade of coral. Then, taking a deep breath, she went to find him.
He was in the saloni with Ari Stanopoulos, and they talking quietly together over their ouzo. At her entrance he turned, his face unsmiling as he watched her approach, his dark eyes scanning her body under its green veiling with a frankness he made no effort to hide.
And if they’d been alone, she thought, aware that her nipples were hardening involuntarily under his almost clinical regard, she would probably have walked straight into his arms, lifting her mouth to his in mute invitation, instead of halting at a discreet distance.
And perhaps it was just as well that Mr Stanopoulos was present, too, or she might also have blundered into some serious act of self-betrayal—like breathing ‘S’agapo—I love you’ against Alex’s lips.
As it was, she was able to say lightly, ‘You’ll be relieved to hear, kyrie, that common sense has finally prevailed,’ and hand him the unsealed envelope.
His brows lifted with faint irony. ‘You are sure you want me to see this?’
She shrugged. ‘I’ve taken your advice. There’s nothing secret about it.’
He read the letter through expressionlessly, then handed it to the lawyer. ‘Do you wish Ari to act for you in the transaction?’
She forced a smile. ‘That—might be best.’
‘I will prepare the necessary authority.’ Mr Stanopoulos looked at her kindly. ‘This cannot have been an easy decision for you, Kyria Kirby.’
Natasha flushed, recalling her stormy descent on the dining room.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I was—a little thrown to begin with.’ She paused. ‘But, once again, I seem to have been made an offer I can’t refuse.’
There was a tingling silence. She saw Alex’s lips tighten momentarily, and wished the words unspoken.
But all he said in response, his voice coolly courteous, was, ‘May I pour you a drink?’
‘Thank you. Some orange juice would be good.’ She took the glass he handed her, and walked to one of the sofas, picking up a magazine and studying its contents with feigned absorption as she watched Alex covertly beneath her lashes.
He’d changed into light chinos that accentuated his long legs and lean hips, and against the short-sleeved blue shirt his skin was bronze. Merely looking at him made her mouth dry, and her heartbeat quicken uncontrollably.
Ari Stanopoulos had said something which amused him, and as his mouth curved she began to tremble as she recalled how his smile had felt against her skin. That—dear God—and the slow, arousi
ng glide of his hands…
Maybe tonight, she thought breathlessly, she would turn the tables by undressing him, before giving full rein to all the fantasies that had kept her awake at night during his absence.
My turn, she told herself, to make amends—if he’ll let me.
When dinner was served she was nervous beyond belief, fumbling with the cutlery and almost knocking over her wineglass. She was far too aware of him—of the lithe strength of his body, lounging in the chair at the head of the table, of every gesture, every note in his voice—to be able to relax. She had to force herself to eat, even though the food was wonderful, as always, and knew that her contributions to the conversation at the table were few and stilted.
As coffee was being served, she found that Ari Stanopoulos was asking her kindly how she liked the island.
‘What I’ve seen of it seems lovely.’ She made herself smile. ‘But so far I’ve spent most of my time here on the beach.’
‘Now that will all change,’ he said. ‘Kyrios Mandrakis knows every square metre of Alyssos from his childhood. You could not ask for a better guide. There are no ancient ruins, alas, but the interior has rugged charm.’ He turned to Alex. ‘You must take Kyria Kirby up into the hills, my friend.’
Alex’s own smile did not reach his eyes. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I came back for no other purpose.’
There was an awkward silence which Natasha hurried to fill, ad-dressing the lawyer again. ‘Maybe you can tell me where my foster mother, Madame Papadimos, used to live. I’d like to visit the place she loved so much.’
There was another, even deeper silence as the two men exchanged glances, then Alex said curtly, ‘I do not advise it. There is nothing to see.’
‘But there’s the house, surely.’ She looked at him in bewilderment. ‘Stavros and Andonis said it was surrounded by olive groves, with a path through the trees leading down to the sea.’