by Maya Banks
‘I’m impressed. Under pressure you responded well and you did what needed to be done. I won’t forget it. And now,’ he kept his voice casual, ‘I need to know exactly where to send the money. Does the seller give you a name and address?’
Ignoring Dmitri’s startled glance, Alekos reached for a pen and paper.
He needed to decide whether to do this in person or hand it over to lawyers.
Lawyers, his common sense told him. For all the reasons you haven’t tracked her whereabouts over the past four years.
‘You can email any questions you have,’ Eleni said weakly, her eyes on the diamond on the screen. ‘It’s a beautiful ring. Lucky woman, ending up with that on her finger. Wow. That’s so romantic.’ She looked at him wide-eyed and Alekos didn’t have the heart to disillusion her.
Had he ever been romantic? If being romantic was to indulge in an impulsive, whirlwind romance then, yes, he’d been romantic. Once. Or maybe ‘blinded by lust’ would be a more accurate assessment. Fortunately he’d come to his senses in time. With a cynical smile at his own expense, Alekos reflected on the fact that a business approach to relationships, such as the one he had with Marianna, was vastly preferable. He’d had no particular wish to understand her, and she’d showed no interest in trying to understand him.
That was so much better than a girl who tried to climb into your thoughts and then seduced with raw, out-of-control sex that wiped a man’s brain.
Feeling the tension ripple across his shoulders, Alekos stared out of the window as Dmitri hastily ushered the girl out of the room, promising to deal with all the financial aspects of the transaction.
Closing the door firmly, the lawyer turned to face Alekos. ‘I’ll arrange for the funds to be transferred and the ring collected.’
‘No.’ Driven by an impulse he decided was better not examined, Alekos reached for his jacket. ‘I don’t want that ring in the hands of a third party. I’ll collect it myself.’
‘In person? Alekos, you haven’t seen the girl for four years. You decided it was best not to get in touch. Are you sure this is a good idea?’
‘I only ever have good ideas.’ Closure, Alekos thought grimly, striding towards the door. Hand over the money, take the ring and move on.
* * *
‘Breathe, breathe, breathe. Put your head between your legs—that’s it. You’re not going to faint. OK—that’s good. Now, try telling me again—slowly.’
Lifting her head, Kelly mouthed the words. No sound came out. She wondered whether it was possible to go mute with shock. It felt as though her entire body had shut down.
Her friend glared at her in exasperation. ‘Kel, I’m giving you thirty seconds to produce sound from your mouth and then I’m throwing a bucket of water over you.’
Kelly dragged in air and tried again. ‘Sold—’
Vivien nodded encouragingly. ‘You’ve sold something—right. What have you sold?’
‘Sold.’ Kelly swallowed. ‘Ring.’
‘OK, finally we’re making progress here—I’m getting that you’ve sold a ring. Which ring?’ Viv’s eyes suddenly widened. ‘Holy crap, not the ring?’
Kelly nodded, feeling as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. ‘Sold ring—eBay.’ She felt dizzy and light-headed, and she knew she would have been lying on the floor in a dead faint by now if she hadn’t already been sitting down.
‘All right, well, that’s good.’ Her expression cautious, Vivien’s smile faltered. ‘I can understand why that seems like such a big thing. You’ve been wearing that ring around your neck for four years—which is probably four years too long given that the rat who gave it to you didn’t turn up for the wedding—but you’ve finally seen the light and sold it, and I think that’s great. Nothing to worry about. No reason to hyperventilate. Do you need to breathe into a paper bag or something?’ She looked at Kelly dubiously. ‘You’re the same colour as a whiteboard, and I’m rubbish at first aid. I closed my eyes in all the classes because I couldn’t stand the revolting pictures. Am I supposed to slap you? Or do I stick your legs in the air to help blood flow? Give me some clues here. I know the whole thing traumatised you, but it’s been four years, for crying out loud!’
Kelly gulped and clutched her friend’s hand. ‘Sold.’
‘Yes, yes, I know! You sold the ring! Just get over it! Now you can get on with your life—go out and shag some stranger to celebrate. It’s time you realised that Mr Greek God isn’t the only man in the world.’
‘For four-million dollars.’
‘Or we could just open a bottle of—what? How much?’ Vivien’s voice turned to a squeak and she plopped onto the floor, her mouth open. ‘For a moment there I thought you actually said four-million dollars.’
‘I did. Four-million dollars.’ Saying the words aloud doubled the shaking. ‘Vivien, I don’t feel very well.’
‘I don’t feel very well either.’ Vivien gave a whimper and flapped her hand in front of her face. ‘We can’t both faint. We might bang our heads or something, and our decomposed bodies would be discovered weeks from now, and no one would even find us because your place is always such a mess. I bet you haven’t even made a will. I mean, all I own is a load of unwashed laundry and a few bills, but you have four-million dollars. Four-million dollars. God, I’ve never had a rich friend before. Now I’m the one who needs to breathe.’ She grabbed a paper bag, emptied out two apples and slammed it over her mouth and nose, breathing in and out noisily.
Kelly stared down at her hands, wondering if they’d stop shaking if she sat on them. They’d been shaking since she’d switched on her computer and seen the final bid. ‘I—I need to pull myself together. I can’t just sit here shaking. I have work to do. I have thirty English books to mark before tomorrow.’
Vivien pulled the bag away from her face and sucked in air. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You never have to teach small children again. You can be a lady of leisure. You can walk in there tomorrow, resign and go for a spa day. Or a spa decade!’
‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Shocked, Kelly stared at her friend, the full implications of the money sinking home. ‘I love teaching. I’m the only one not looking forward to the summer holidays. I love the kids. I’ll miss the kids. They’re the nearest I’m ever going to get to a family of my own.’
‘For crying out loud, Kel, you’re twenty-three, not ninety. And, anyway, you’re rich now. You’ll be a toy girl, or a sugar mummy or something. Men will be queuing up to impregnate you.’
Kelly recoiled. ‘You don’t have a romantic bone in your body, do you?’
‘I’m a realist. And I know you love kids. Weird, really; I just want to bash their heads together most of the time. Maybe you should just give me the money and I’ll resign. Four-million dollars! How come you didn’t know it was worth that much?’
‘I didn’t ask,’ Kelly mumbled. ‘The ring was special because he gave it to me, not because of its value. It didn’t occur to me it was that valuable. I wasn’t really interested.’
‘You need to learn to be practical as well as romantic. He might have been a bastard, but at least he wasn’t a cheapskate.’ Vivien sank her teeth into one of the apples that she’d tipped out of the paper bag, talking as she ate. ‘When you told me he was Greek, I assumed he was a waiter or something.’
Kelly flushed. She hated talking about it because it reminded her of how stupid she’d been. How naive. ‘He wasn’t a waiter.’ She covered her face with her hands. ‘I can’t even bear to think about it. How could I ever have thought it could have worked? He is super-cool, super-intelligent and super-rich. I’m not super-anything.’
‘Yes you are,’ Vivien said loyally. ‘You’re—you’re, um, super-messy, super-scatterbrained and—’
‘Shut up! I don’t need to hear any more reasons why it didn’t work.’ Kelly wondered how anything could
possibly still hurt this much after four years. ‘It would be nice if I could think of just one reason why it might have worked.’
Vivien took a large bite of apple and chewed thoughtfully. ‘You have super-big breasts?’
Kelly covered her chest with her arms. ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
‘You’re welcome. So how did Mr Super Rich make his money?’
‘Shipping. He owns a shipping company—a big one. Lots of ships.’
‘Don’t tell me—super-big ones? Why did you never tell me this before?’ Munching away, Vivien shook her head in disbelief. ‘This guy was a multi-millionaire, wasn’t he?’
Kelly rubbed her foot on the threadbare carpet of her tiny flat. ‘I read somewhere he was a billionaire.’
‘Oh, right—well, who’s counting? What’s a few-hundred million between friends? So—don’t take this the wrong way—how did you meet him? I’ve been alive the same number of years as you and I’ve never met a single millionaire, let alone a billionaire. Some tips would be welcome.’
‘It was during my gap year. I trespassed on his private beach. I didn’t know it was private; I’d left my guide book somewhere and I was in a bit of a dream, looking at the view, not reading the signs.’ Misery oozed through her veins. ‘Can we talk about something else? It isn’t my favourite subject.’
‘Sure. We can talk about what you’re going to do with four-million dollars.’
‘I don’t know.’ Kelly gave a helpless shrug. ‘Pay for a psychiatrist to treat me for shock?’
‘Who bought the thing?’
Kelly looked at her blankly, worried that her brain appeared to have stalled. ‘Someone rich?’
Viven looked at her with exasperation. ‘And when do you hand it over?’
‘Some girl emailed me to say it would be collected in person tomorrow. I gave them the address of the school in case they turn out to be dodgy.’ She pressed her hand to the ring that she wore on a chain under her shirt and Vivien sighed.
‘You never take it off. You even sleep in the thing.’
‘That’s because I have a problem with my personal organisation,’ Kelly said in a small voice. ‘I’m afraid I might lose it.’
‘If you’re trying to hide behind the “I’m untidy” act, forget it. I know you’re untidy, but you wear the ring because you’re still stuck on him, and you’ve been stuck on him for four years. What made you suddenly decide to sell the ring, Kel? What happened? You’ve been acting awfully weird all week.’
Kelly swallowed hard and fiddled with the ring through her shirt. ‘I saw pictures of him with another woman,’ she said thickly. ‘Blonde, stick-thin—you know the type. The sort that makes you want to stop eating, until you realise that even if you stopped eating you still wouldn’t look like that.’ She sniffed. ‘I suddenly realised that keeping the ring was stopping me from moving on with my life. It’s crazy. I’m crazy.’
‘No, not any more. Finally you’re sane.’ Vivien sprang to her feet and flung her hair out of her eyes in a dramatic gesture. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’
‘I need to pull myself together and forget about him?’
‘It means no more cheap pasta with sauce from a jar. Tonight we’re eating takeaway pizza with extra toppings, and you’re paying. Yay!’ Vivien reached for the phone. ‘Bring on the high life.’
* * *
Alekos Zagorakis stepped out of his black Ferrari and stared at the old Victorian building.
Hampton Park First School.
Of course she would have chosen to work with children. What else?
It had been the day he’d read in the press that she was planning on four children that he’d walked out on her.
With a grim smile that was entirely at his own expense, he scanned the building, automatically noticing the things that needed doing. The fence was torn in several places and plastic covered one section of the roof, presumably to prevent a leak. But the surroundings weren’t responsible for the ripple of tension that spread across his shoulders.
A bell rang, and less than a minute later a stream of children poured through the swing doors and into the playground, jostling and elbowing each other. A young woman followed the children out of the door, answering questions, refereeing arguments and gently admonishing when things grew out of hand. She was dressed in a simple black skirt, flat shoes and a nondescript shirt. Alekos didn’t give her a second glance. He was too busy looking for Kelly.
He studied the ancient building, deciding that his information must be wrong. Why would Kelly bury herself in a place like this?
He was about to return to his car when he heard a familiar laugh. His eyes followed the sound, and suddenly he found himself taking a closer look at the young teacher in the black skirt and sensible heels.
She bore no resemblance to the carefree teenager he’d met on the beach in Corfu, and he was about to dismiss her again when she tilted her head.
Alekos stared at her hair, fiercely repressed by a clip at the back of her head. If that clip was released and her hair fell forward... He frowned, mentally stripping off the drab garments so that he could see the woman concealed beneath.
Then she smiled, and he sucked in a sharp breath because it was impossible not to recognise that smile. It was wide, warm and generous, freely bestowed and genuine. Dragging his eyes from her mouth, Alekos took a second look at the sensible skirt. He could see now that she had the same long, long legs. Legs designed to make a man lose the thread of his conversation and his focus. Legs that had once been wrapped around his waist.
Shouts of excitement snapped him out of his perusal of her wardrobe. A group of boys had noticed the car, and instantly he regretted not having parked it round the corner out of sight. As they sprinted across the playground to the flimsy fence that separated the school from the outside world, Alekos stared at them as another man might stare at a dangerous animal.
Three little heads stared at him and then the car.
‘Wow—cool car.’
‘Is it a Porsche? My dad says the best car is a Porsche.’
‘When I grow up, I’m going to have one like this.’
Alekos had no idea what to say to them so he stood still, frozen by his own inadequacy as they rattled the fence, small fingers curling between the wire as they stared and admired.
He saw her head turn as she checked anxiously on her charges. Of course, she would notice instantly when one of her flock had wandered from safety. She was that sort of person. A people person. She was messy, scatty, noisy and caring. And she wouldn’t have greeted a group of children with silence.
She saw the car first and Alekos watched as the colour fled her face, the sudden pallor of her skin accentuating the unusual sapphire-blue of her eyes.
Obviously she didn’t know any other men who drove a Ferrari, he thought grimly. The fact that she was shocked to see him increased his anger.
What had she expected, that he’d sit by and watch the ring—the ring he’d put on her finger—sold to the highest bidder?
Across that stretch of nondescript tarmac, that school playground that was no one’s idea of a romantic venue for a reunion, wide blue eyes met fierce black.
The sun came out from beyond a cloud, sending a spotlight of bright gold onto her shining head. It reminded him of the way she’d looked that afternoon on his beach in Corfu. She’d been wearing a minuscule, turquoise bikini and a pretty, unselfconscious smile.
With no desire to climb aboard that train of thought, Alekos dragged his mind back to the present.
‘Boys!’ Her voice was melting chocolate with hints of cinnamon—smooth with a hint of spice. ‘Don’t climb the fence! You know it’s dangerous.’
Alekos felt the thud of raw emotion in his gut. Four years ago she would have hurled herself
across the playground with the enthusiasm of a puppy and thrown herself into his arms.
The fact that she was now looking at him as if he’d escaped from a tiger reserve added an extra boost to his rocketing tension-levels.
Alekos looked at the boy nearest to him, the need for information unlocking his tongue. ‘Is she your teacher?’
‘Yes, she’s our teacher.’ Despite the warning, the boy jammed the toe of his shoe in the wire fence and tried to climb up. ‘She doesn’t look strict, but if you do something wrong—pow!’ He slammed his fist into his palm and Alekos felt a stab of shock.
‘She hits you?’
‘Are you kidding?’ The boy collapsed with laughter at the thought. ‘She won’t even squash a spider. She catches them in a glass and lifts them out of the classroom. She never even shouts.’
‘You said “pow”.’
‘Miss Jenkins has a way of squashing you with a look. Pow!’ The boy shrugged. ‘She makes you feel bad if you’ve done something wrong. Like you’ve let her down. But she’d never hurt anyone. She’s non-violent.’
Non-violent. Miss Jenkins.
Alekos inhaled sharply; so, she wasn’t married. She didn’t yet have the four children she wanted.
Only now that the question was answered did he acknowledge that the possibility had been playing on his mind.
She crossed the playground towards him as if she were being dragged by an invisible rope. It was obvious that, given the chance, she would have run in the opposite direction. ‘Freddie, Kyle, Colin.’ She addressed the three boys in a firm tone that left no doubt about her abilities to manage a group of high-spirited children, ‘Come away from the fence.’
There was a clamour of conversation and he noticed that she answered their questions, instead of hushing them impatiently as so many adults did. And the children clearly adored her.
‘Have you seen the car, Miss Jenkins? It’s so cool. I’ve only ever seen one in a picture.’
‘It’s just a car. Four wheels and an engine. Colin, I’m not telling you again.’ Turning her head, she looked at Alekos, her smile completely false. ‘How can I help you?’