From Dirt to Diamonds

by Julia James

  ‘Didn’t your mother mind you boarding?’

  Questions were coming from her, and she didn’t know why. It could only be, she reasoned, because she had gone into some kind of automatic social behaviour more, assuming the kind of conversation that she was familiar with when she talked to people. How else could she possibly be sitting here, having the semblance of a normal conversation with him?

  ‘She died when I was three. I don’t remember her. I was brought up by my father. We were very close. I was his only child. But he spent his life working, creating Petrakos International. Overworking. He died when I was twenty-one.’

  The clipped tones revealed nothing, and she could not see his eyes. But she saw him lift his wrist slightly.

  ‘This watch was his twenty-first birthday present to me—the last gift he ever gave me. I’ve worn it every day since.’ He paused, then said deliberately, ‘So you will understand that its value is more than its cost …’

  She felt colour run over her cheeks. ‘I’m not proud of what I did,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘So why did you?’

  The question slipped in like a blade. In her mind’s eye Thea saw the sick, silver glint of the blade in Mike’s hand. She slammed the vision away. She would not think of that—would not think about Kat and what she had done. Why she had done it. It was over, gone—another life. A life she no longer led.

  Would never lead again. Whatever Angelos Petrakos did to her.

  She gave no answer, and was grateful that their food arrived at that moment. Surprised, too, by the quickening of her appetite as a rich, fragrant meat soup, sprinkled with herbs and enriched with dumplings, was set in front of her.

  ‘You’d better get used to eating more,’ observed Angelos. ‘The mountain air is infamous for creating appetite.’ He spoke as if he’d never mentioned that she’d stolen his father’s last gift to him. Then he went on, ‘Tell me, how are you at walking?’

  Thea’s spoon stayed in mid-lift.

  ‘Mountain walks,’ said Angelos. ‘It’s what I come here for.’

  She stared. The picture of Angelos Petrakos walking over Swiss mountains was not an image she had thought it possible to entertain. How could he be the arrogant Mr Rich and Powerful with nothing around him but mountains?

  ‘I haven’t any walking boots,’ she replied, for something to say.

  ‘I’ve had a selection sent up from the village, and a range of suitable clothing.’

  Well, that was being Mr Rich again, certainly, she allowed. But then, so was owning a spectacular chalet like this. Yet it still seemed out of keeping with what she knew about him.

  But what do I know about him except that he destroys people who cross him?

  That was all she needed to know about him.

  Nothing else. Nothing about the person he might or might not be. Nothing about where he came from, or what his family had been to him, or his boyhood. Nothing.

  And nothing, nothing at all, about the way her eyes wanted to go constantly to him, or the way she could feel his presence, as if she were an antenna, tuning to its frequency.

  She dragged her eyes away, dropping them back to her soup bowl.

  Angelos watched her from behind his dark glasses. Would she have answered his question had the food not arrived? Would she have attempted to justify her behaviour? Her words echoed— ’I’m not proud of what I did …’

  Another echo sounded, from the evening before. ‘No one should be Kat Jones …’

  She had changed beyond recognition—except to him. But had she changed enough inside to hate what she’d done as Kat? The question hung in his mind, unanswered, as his gaze rested on her as she ate, taking in her grace, her extraordinary beauty that drew his eye so powerfully.

  But one thing he knew. He had been right to bring her here. Here, up in the mountains, with the busy world left far, far behind, at this lofty elevation where the air was crystal, the light clearer, he would see the truth about her.

  And the truth of what he wanted of her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THEA paused a moment, flexing her calf muscles. Angelos was striding ahead of her. He was setting a fast pace, but Thea would not be hurried. She was still getting a feel for the boots, and since she had no idea how far he was expecting her to walk she knew she had to pace herself. They were on a pine-needle path snaking up through the fir trees that encircled the chalet on three sides, shielding it from view of the road far below, and the incline was already getting steeper. It was very quiet and dark in the perpetual shade of the conifers, and when the path led out on to the bare mountain slope she blinked in the dazzling sunlight. Ahead of her, Angelos had paused to put on sunglasses, and she did the same. Then, with nothing more than a glance back at her, he resumed walking.

  Thea headed after him, keeping him in view but also gazing around her. It was impossible to do otherwise. The panorama was immense. The steep slope of the mountain side curved away to the road far below, getting further away all the time as they climbed upwards towards the ridge they were clearly heading for. After an hour or so of walking she could feel it in the backs of her legs. But she didn’t care—the scenery around her was too glorious, the air in her lungs like cleansing crystal. She felt—even though she knew it was quite bizarre to feel this way, given why she was here and who she was with—a strange sense of peace.

  It was impossible, here in the wide open air, so high above the world, to feel anything else.

  After another half an hour she reached the ridge. Angelos had been there for some time, standing framed against the skyline, looking back down at her from time to time.

  Angelos Petrakos on his lofty mountaintop, gazing down disdainfully at the common people struggling below …

  She said nothing as she finally drew level with him. She was not exactly out of breath, but she knew she was feeling the exertion. He looked at her, eyes still invisible behind his dark lenses, and Thea was glad her eyes were similarly veiled.

  ‘Think you can make it up there?’

  He indicated a rocky outcrop, jagged against the skyline, further along the ridge, which continued to rise until, way beyond, it ascended steeply up a bare rockface to begin a proper summit of the next mountain in the chain.

  Thea shrugged, reaching for her water bottle and drinking deeply. Angelos was watching her impassively.

  She’d done well so far, he allowed grudgingly. He’d set a deliberately fast pace, to see what she would do, but she’d just followed him. Doggedly, steadily. Now he studied her. Was it bravado that was keeping her going? He did not want to have to carry her down if she overdid it and collapsed.

  ‘Tell me if you need to stop,’ he said tersely, then he set off again.

  Thea put her water away, took a breath, and went after him. The path was more difficult now, disappearing in places, and the ridge was getting narrower. But she kept going. Angelos did not outpace her now, deliberately, she assumed, slowing to her pace. There was a sharp wind, too, keening up the scarp slope they were now exposed to on the far side of the ridge. But walking had made her hot, and she was glad of its cooling.

  Another half-hour of walking got them to the outcrop that he’d indicated. As they gained it Thea realised that the rocks it was made from framed a grassy hollow, looking out over the next valley. Angelos shrugged off his rucksack and levered himself down on to the close-cropped turf.

  ‘Sit down,’ he ordered.

  Reluctantly, for the grassy hollow was not large, Thea did as she was bade, keeping the maximum distance from him she could. Unfortunately, with his broad shoulders and their thick jumpers, that was not much. Worse, out of the wind but still in the sun, and glowing from her exertion, she felt far too hot.

  ‘Take off the jumper,’ said Angelos, and proceeded to remove his.

  Again reluctantly, Thea did as she was bade, feeling immediate relief to be only in the flannel shirt beneath.

  ‘Now drink more water,’ Angelos instructed, extracting his own flask
once more.

  Again, Thea did likewise, and felt the cool water snake down her parched throat.

  ‘Worth the climb?’ Angelos enquired laconically as she lowered the flask to her lap. Her legs, like his, were stretched out straight, but angled away from him.

  She gazed around, taking in the splendours of this high, lonely place. All around mountains stretched as far as the eye could see, their peaks snow-capped, their sides verdant. Below her the ridge dropped down into a deep valley, uninhabited from what she could see.

  It was as if they had the world to themselves.

  As if they were the only people in it.

  She didn’t answer, only sat, glad of the rest, while her gaze took in the vast space all around. Apart from the keening of the wind there was no noise. Sun burned down on her, and she was glad of her dark glasses. Her skin felt hot, and she dipped into her pocket for her sun cream, methodically working it over her face to renew its protection.

  Beside her, Angelos watched her. She was absorbed in her task, still gazing out ahead of her. She was paying him no attention, but it didn’t bother him. He wanted to watch her. Study her.

  Yet again she was different. The groomed, soignée Thea he’d seen for the past few days had changed. But it was not just in appearance, with the functional climbing gear and her hair snaking down her back in a plait to resist the wind, but in the way she sat there. Gazing out quietly. She put the sun cream away and tucked her legs up, hooking her arms loosely around her knees, face lifted as she looked about her.

  ‘That peak there is the Hohenhorn,’ he heard himself saying, indicating the tallest mountain in the direction she was looking. ‘Below us the Heinser valley. The drop is nearly a thousand metres.’

  Suddenly she felt her shoulder brushed. Automatically she stiffened, but Angelos’s deep voice only said, ‘Look—there—hanging below the Hohenhorn—a pair of eagles!’

  She swivelled her head, staring, trying to make out the specks his outstretched arm was pointing at.

  ‘I see them!’ she exclaimed. She watched, riveted, as the pair twisted in the air. Silently a pair of binoculars was handed to her. She seized them and lifted them to her eyes.

  ‘Don’t look at the sun,’ Angelos said sharply.

  She found the eagles, though it was hard, as they started to soar upwards on thermals, to keep them in view. But it was an incredible sight to see. Reluctantly she handed back the binoculars. Angelos took them and refocused them for his eyes. Her gaze went from the eagles to him. He was completely absorbed. Completely, she realised with a little jolt, at home here on this high place.

  She went on looking at him, her feelings strange.

  After a while the eagles were out of sight, and Angelos let the binoculars drop. He turned back to Thea. For a moment she could not look away. Yet both their gazes were veiled by dark glasses.

  I can see him, and he can see me, but we can’t see each other …

  The thought formed in her mind and seemed strange to her.

  Abruptly he spoke, breaking the moment. ‘How are your feet? Any blisters?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t think so. They’re very good boots.’

  ‘Yes, but you should have broken them in more easily. I set a hard pace on the way up.’

  She didn’t answer, just turned back to look at the panorama again, leaning forward, away from him.

  Angelos looked at the back of her head. ‘If it was too hard for you, you should have said.’ He paused. ‘I’d have slowed down.’

  She still said nothing.

  ‘You don’t ask favours, do you, Kat?’ he said slowly.

  ‘I did once,’ she said. Her voice was hollow. ‘But I learnt my lesson.’

  There was silence broken only by the keening wind.

  ‘Not all of them,’ said Angelos softly.

  Her head turned and their eyes clashed unseeingly. Behind the safety net of her dark glasses she could only stare at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Her voice was sharp. He could hear a bite in it, but it was not of anger. Something different. Fear?

  ‘Relax, Kat. Do you imagine I’m going to toss you over the edge?’

  He saw her flinch, saw her try to stop it being visible. Emotion jabbed in him. He swore. Then, deliberately lightening the moment, he said, ‘If nothing else, think of the scandal for me …’

  ‘It could look like an accident. No witnesses.’ Her voice was tight. Was she serious in what she said? She knew she wasn’t—how could she possibly be?—and yet … ‘It would be the ultimate destruction,’ she heard her voice say.

  He swore again volubly, in Greek. ‘I should be angry with you for such an imputation! But I will make allowances for you. Kat.’ He took a breath. ‘You paid your dues. I made sure of that. So, whether you deny or admit your guilt for what you did, your slate is clean on that account. Now that you’ve relinquished the Honourable Giles I won’t persecute you any further. But I couldn’t let you make a fool of the man the way you made a fool of—’

  He stopped. Then he climbed to his feet. ‘Time to head back,’ he said abruptly.

  By the time they reached the chalet Thea was feeling it. Descending was harder on the muscles, she discovered, than ascending, and her legs were trembling by the time she was unlacing her boots in the chalet’s porch. But she said nothing, made no complaint. Only nodded when Angelos, glancing at her, told her, ‘Have a long soak in the bath before you do anything else.’

  She did what he said, easing her aching muscles. Afterwards she wrapped herself up in the big fleecy bathrobe that came with the bathroom and padded out on to the balcony. It was early evening, no longer warm, and looking back along the valley she could see the lights of the village way below at the far distant end. Ahead of her, the huge open space was filled with darkening air, and high above pale stars were beginning to show in the sky, with the highest peaks still tinged with the last of the day’s light.

  She felt tired—tired in all her muscles—and yet a sense of well-being held her. She didn’t know why. It should be impossible. But it was so, all the same. For quite some time she stood there, arms resting on the wooden balcony, just looking out and feeling the improbable peace of the evening.

  Everything seemed very far away. Very distant.

  She tried to conjure Giles’s face to mind, but it would not come. Only a handful of days ago she had thought her future lay with him, that she had achieved her heart’s desire. But it had been ripped from her. Ripped to pieces.

  Once before her life had been ripped to pieces. But she had remade it—better.

  And I will do so again. As often as it takes.

  She stared out over the darkening valley at the mountain peaks, high and pristine, untouchable. She didn’t see the tall figure emerge at the far end of the balcony, his head turned towards her, standing as still as she, watching her.

  Nor the questioning frown between his eyes as he did so.

  Thea knew that dinner that night would not be easy, and when she went down, summoned by Trudi, the young maid, her tension levels were high again. She had dressed for comfort, wearing a pair of leggings and a long, soft sweater in teal-blue lambswool. She’d tied her hair up, and wore no make-up. Yet even dressed so casually she still felt Angelos’s eyes on her as she walked into the lounge. He too was dressed casually, wearing another cashmere sweater—navy—with loose khaki chinos. He’d ruched back the sleeves of the sweater, and Thea moved her gaze away from his strong, tanned forearms. But looking at his face was no better. No better at all. His hair was damp, feathering at his nape and brow, and he was freshly shaved. She dragged her eyes away, looking instead at the wood fire crackling in the stone hearth. The whole room was ridiculously cosy, softly lit from old-fashioned lamps, with a huge rug in front of the hearth and sofas you could sink into.

  Angelos was drinking a lager, and Franz, the older of the two manservants, dutifully asked what the fraulein might like to drink. Thea asked for fruit juice, and received a g
lass as tall as Angelos’s, with similar pale gold contents, but the liquid was slightly fizzing apple juice.

  ‘Apfelsaft,’ Angelos enlightened. ‘Sussmost, as the Swiss call it. It’s non-alcoholic.’

  She sipped it cautiously and found it very refreshing.

  ‘How are your feet?’

  ‘OK,’ she said cautiously.

  He nodded. ‘Tomorrow we’ll rest. You don’t want to overdo it when you’re inexperienced at mountain walking.’

  She said nothing. What should she say? That she didn’t want to be here in the first place? That she wanted to go home, to try and pick up what was left of her life now? Instead, she just followed Angelos through into the dining room—another comfortable room, with a large pine table, another open fire, and heavy dark green curtains on metal rings. There were thick candles on the table, already lit, although wall lamps gave the room light as well. She took the chair Franz held for her at the foot of the table, sitting down in the wide-based armed chair, padded with cushions. The whole effect was, she thought as she looked around, like a luxurious Alpine farmhouse. But it was warm and welcoming and homely. It was an odd description for a place owned by a man like Angelos Petrakos.

  As Franz and the younger manservant, Johann, started to serve dinner, Thea realised, as she had at lunch, that she was hungry. The food was hearty and delicious. A rough pâté, followed by breaded escalopes with fried potatoes and a root salad. It was probably about a million calories, but right now she didn’t care. She tucked in.

  Angelos watched her. ‘It’s the mountain air,’ he observed. ‘It gives an appetite. And the exercise, of course.’

  She looked up.

  ‘You’re eating properly.’ He explained his comment. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you could.’

  ‘You get used to chronic malnutrition as a model,’ she responded dryly.

  ‘You really don’t like the profession, do you?’ he returned, his voice even drier. Then his tone changed. ‘Was that one of Giles Brooke’s attractions—he’d be taking you away from modelling? Apart, of course, from his title and his money,’ he finished jibingly.