Agon’s royal palace was an architect’s dream, as colourful as the lives of the people who inhabited it. Its influences ranged from Turkish to French, blended to create a vast wonderland that rivalled Buckingham Palace for size. Helena distinctly remembered driving to her grandparents’ home from the airport in Agon as a small child, her heart soaring with wonder to see the colourful turrets in the distance. As soon as they’d arrived she’d begged for paper and colouring pencils and immediately set about drawing it. That was her first ever attempt to draw a building and it had ignited a lifelong love of both the palace and the architecture behind it.
The palace interior matched the exterior for opulence, and she kept having to ensure her mouth was closed to stop it hanging open in awe.
Theo at her side, she was taken into a stateroom with around fifty other select guests. There, they were fed all the champagne they could quaff and all the canapés they could fit in their bellies. Naturally, everyone knew Theo, and she was introduced to many people, quite a few of whom she recognised from three years ago.
For a moment she longed to grab hold of Theo’s hand as she’d done back then and feel the solid weight of his support. He’d laughed at her insecurities but had stayed by her side. The times he hadn’t was when she’d plucked up the courage to let go of his hand and release him as her life support. That was when everyone would pounce and Helena would find herself pushed to the sidelines, nibbling miserably on any morsel she could get her hands on until Theo extracted himself from whoever was monopolising him and rescued her.
She’d been too inured to a woman being under a male’s thumb to realise she should have rescued herself. Her insecurities had not been Theo’s fault.
She stared at him now, chatting to a woman she recognised, tall, thin, beautiful, an identikit clothes horse to those he’d hung out with after Helena had left, and swiped a bite-sized chunk of cucumber and avocado artfully rolled into one, and popped it into her mouth. The little devil called Jealousy who lived in her heart rose but she swallowed it down. Theo wasn’t flirting. He was exchanging pleasantries. It was her erratic, insecure emotions when they’d been together that had always feared he would look from the beauty at his side to her and realise how wildly unsuitable Helena was for him.
She popped another more substantial canapé into her mouth and chewed absently while making an effort to stop a frown lining her forehead. She remembered complaining to Theo that none of his friends spoke to her unless she was glued to his side. A soft smile had spread over his face and then he’d put his thumbs to her forehead and massaged it gently. ‘This is why,’ he’d told her sympathetically. ‘When you are frightened, you frown. It makes people wary of speaking to you. You look cross.’
‘But I’m not cross,’ she’d said, dumbfounded that he would say such a thing.
He’d replaced his thumbs with his mouth and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I know, agapi mou,’ he’d whispered. ‘I know.’
And he had known. And he’d tried to protect her. But even with the best will in the world it was impossible to stay glued to one person for an entire evening.
She helped herself to another canapé. What an insecure, naïve young woman she had been. And as she swallowed the delicious morsel she felt a twinge of sympathy for the clothes horse chewing Theo’s ear off. Not only did he look...not bored exactly, more that his attention was elsewhere, but also she must be starving. And cold in the scrap of fabric that barely covered her modesty and was no match for the palace’s air-conditioning. When had that woman last had a proper meal? As had been the case three years ago, Helena was the only female guest actually eating. She was too hungry to do anything else. She caught a pencil-thin woman eyeing her and couldn’t interpret if the look she was throwing her way was disdain or envy.
Helena raised her champagne glass in salute. The woman quickly looked away.
‘Nicely done,’ Theo murmured.
His breath whispered in her hair, his cologne enveloping her.
Her heart thumped.
She hadn’t noticed him leave the clothes horse’s side.
She leaned her face against his and inhaled the musky scent of his skin. The bristles of his fledging beard brushed her cheek. ‘I should have learned the art of nonchalance long ago.’
‘I don’t know, I rather liked the jealous Helena.’
‘She wasn’t rational.’
‘I know.’
Their gazes locked together, lingered...
Then Theo, eyes gleaming, drained his glass of champagne. ‘We will be leaving for the amphitheatre soon.’ His voice lowered as he leaned in to speak into her ear. ‘When we get back home I’m going to strip that dress off and make you come with my tongue.’
A rush of blood to her head almost had her swaying on the spot.
An image of them making love flashed in her vision, sending more heat shooting through her from her pelvis into her dizzy brain.
Helena ground her heeled feet firmly into the antique carpet...
But that only made her think of how she had lost her virginity on her bedroom floor.
Fresh heat burned her cheeks as the monumentality of what they’d shared earlier finally sank in.
They’d had sex. She’d had sex with Theo. On her bedroom floor. And if Theo was to say he wanted to escape this party, take her home and do the things he’d just suggested...
She would go willingly. He wouldn’t need to ask twice.
Trying to settle her erratic breaths, she took a sip of her champagne, reminding herself that she was in a royal palace.
But then she looked again into Theo’s eyes and saw the gleam ringing in them that suggested he knew his words had had the desired effect. The urge to play him at his own game, to watch him squirm as he’d made her squirm, was irresistible.
Raising herself onto her toes, she placed her mouth to his ear. ‘When we get back you’ll be able to see for yourself if I’m wearing knickers...or not.’ Then she darted her tongue out and licked the lobe of his ear before taking a step back to admire her handiwork.
Theo had stilled. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hooded and gleaming with a combination of lust and amusement.
Helena smiled knowingly and raised her eyebrows. Nonchalantly, she said, ‘How are we getting to the amphitheatre?’
A wide smile spread slowly across his expressive face. He burst into laughter. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. ‘By train, agapi mou.’ Then he lowered his voice so only she could hear. ‘You are in so much trouble, you minx.’
The train transpired to be a brand-new electric transportation system King Helios had had installed earlier that year to traverse the vast palace grounds. With the grounds having been closed to the public for the day, the select guests were transported with the king, his two brothers and the royal wives to the amphitheatre in carriages that evoked thoughts of an age when rail travel had been exotic and luxurious.
Her carriage’s window open, Helena closed her eyes and welcomed the refreshing kiss of the breeze on her face. She needed it, especially with Theo sitting so closely beside her. Their thighs were pressed together, his hand clasping hers in a proprietorial manner. She needed the air to blow some sanity into her brain. Here she was, in a carriage with Prince Talos and his beautiful wife, and all she could think about was returning to Theo’s villa and enjoying his possession of her body all over again. Indeed, her only thought of the prince was how terrifying he was, easily the biggest man she had ever met. Many men of his size could be referred to as gentle giants. Prince Talos was not one of them...not until Helena caught the softening in his expression whenever he looked at his wife.
An unexpected burn stabbed the backs of her eyes. Theo had used to look at her that way...
She didn’t want him to look at her that way again, she reminded herself. She’d given Theo posses
sion of her body. Nothing more. Tomorrow they would return to Sidiro’s peninsula and she would reset their relationship back to a business footing.
For this one day and night, though, they could fulfil the fantasies that had once driven them to the brink of madness.
Theo stepped into his softly lit villa and took a moment to embrace the silence. A man who usually thrived on noise and chaos, he realised all the noise of the evening had been drowned out by the thuds of his heart pounding in his ears.
He didn’t think he’d taken in a single word anyone had said to him during the champagne reception. Apart from Helena. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t even remember who he’d spoken to. Apart from Helena. As for the plot of the amphitheatre’s show over which the rest of the audience had been in raptures, quite frankly, the entire thing could have been conducted in Swahili for all he’d got of it.
How could a man concentrate on such things when the scent of the most ravishing woman in the world skipped continually into his aroused senses? When she kept throwing him those come-to-bed eyes?
When the show finished, he’d stared into her eyes and in that moment he’d known he would cancel attending Prince Talos’s private after-party. Who cared about showing the world that he’d won back the woman who’d jilted him when he could take her home and devour her all over again?
Who could think of revenge when burning desire consumed your every movement? When the soft skin of the object of your revenge as well as of your desire kept brushing against your arm? When her soft hands held yours as tightly as you held hers?
But now they were back, he knew he needed a moment to gather himself together.
‘Drink?’ he suggested.
He wanted to make love to her so badly, but this time he wanted to take it as slowly as he should have done the first time...her first time. Ever.
He led her through to his favourite living area, a vast room that led onto the veranda, separated by a wall of glass. He pressed the button to open the wall then went to his bar. ‘What do you want?’
She smiled softly then headed through the gap that had opened onto the veranda, saying over her shoulder, ‘Whatever you’re having.’
I’m having you, he thought as he opened a bottle of ouzo, poured a large measure of it into a cocktail shaker, then did the same with the vodka. Then he added the juice of a lemon, some orange juice and, remembering to add them only at the last moment, chunks of ice. Then he gave it a good shake before straining it into two tall glasses.
He carried their drinks outside, where he found her barefoot on the lawn below the veranda, staring out at the black sea before her, the moonlight illuminating her pale face.
‘Here,’ he said.
She took it from him with a smile and sipped it through the straw. Her eyes flickered. ‘A Greek Doctor?’
He grinned. ‘You remember?’
A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. ‘I remember getting my first hangover on these. And my last.’
‘Still?’ That was a night he’d never forgotten. Helena, unused to drinking more than the odd glass of wine, had devoured more than her share of the cocktail one night early on during their stay on Sidiro. He’d had to carry her back to the small hotel room. She’d alternated between clinging to him like a limpet throughout the night to retching over the side of the bed. In the morning she’d clutched her head tightly and vowed never to drink so much again. In all their time together after that, she never had.
She took another sip and nodded. ‘I learned my lesson.’ Eyes holding his, she swirled the contents of her glass. ‘I always learn my lessons.’
He contemplated her. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
‘Only that you and I... I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.’
‘What wrong idea would that be?’
‘That we’re getting back together. We’re not. When we go back to Sidiro, our relationship goes back to being purely professional.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HELENA HELD HER breath while she waited for Theo to respond.
She hadn’t intended to put it so bluntly, but Theo was not a man for subtlety. It was best to spell things out, otherwise he would deliberately misconstrue it for his own advantage.
‘But you have thought of us getting back together,’ he said with a gleam in his eye.
‘I’ve been thinking about us a lot,’ she admitted. ‘Time tends to blur the past. It makes us nostalgic.’
‘You are nostalgic for me?’
She had to laugh. ‘Nostalgic for your insatiable ego.’
‘You’re blaming my ego for you running away?’
‘I didn’t run away. I left.’
‘You ran away from me.’
‘Are you suffering from selective memory or something? I never ran away from you. I left you and you know perfectly well why I did, and they are reasons that haven’t changed even if nostalgia has blunted the edges.’
He shook his head sardonically and raised his glass. ‘As I remember it, you decided I was going to be a terrible husband and father and—’
‘I never said that,’ she cut in, startled. For all his teasing tones, there was a biting message. This conversation was going in a direction she had not anticipated. In her head, she’d envisaged making it clear to Theo that any intimacy between them was to be confined to this villa and Theo immediately agreeing with her—although no doubt with his fingers crossed behind his back—and then whisking her off to bed to make love. Because this was just unfinished business, she’d realised while trying to watch the show. Theo had that right. If he’d dropped his ridiculous insistence that they wait until they were married before making love and they had actually done the deed all that time ago, the itch would have been scratched. The unknown would have been known.
He took a long drink of his cocktail. ‘You certainly implied it.’
‘No, you interpreted it that way. I didn’t mean you would be a bad husband for anyone, just a bad husband for me—out there in this big wide world is a woman you would be perfect for.’
That was not a ripple of jealousy streaming through her at the thought of Theo settling down. She would not allow that, not tonight.
He winked. ‘You’re saying I’m perfect?’
She only just held back from giving his arm a playful slap. Some intimacies must not be allowed back out. ‘For someone else, yes. And I definitely did not say you’d be a bad father because I actually think you’d be a great one.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know...’ She thought wildly. ‘You’re fun. You’re generous. You’re protective. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t judge.’ Everything her father wasn’t.
‘All the wonderful qualities you ran away from.’
‘I didn’t run, I walked, and I would walk again because the flip side is that you’re a control freak.’
Her assertion was so offensive that for a moment Theo’s mind went blank. ‘I am not.’
‘Theo, you wanted to control everything. Look at my career—you took it on yourself to arrange for me to finish my studies at Agon University and arranged a placement with an Agon architecture business for my final year. Your insistence that we marry immediately, your wish for me to start popping babies out...even down to when we would make love for the first time. You knew best. You always think you know best.’
He took a long moment to compose himself against the violent emotions coursing through him at this outrageous rewrite of history. Speaking through gritted teeth, he said, ‘You let me believe you wanted to live in Agon with me and have babies. If I overstepped the mark in trying to make that happen then I’m sorry...no, I’m not sorry.’ Absolutely not. That would imply an acceptance of blame. ‘I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to. I hated the thought of you going back to England to finish your studies but I would have moved heaven and earth
to make the distance between us work if it had come to it. I only got the information together for you because you told me that was what you wanted.’
‘I did want it,’ she admitted softly. ‘But you were like a whirlwind without a stop button. You just went ahead and arranged everything.’
‘You never once complained.’ Not by word or gesture.
She dropped her stare. ‘I know. I should have done. I should have told you to let me sort things out for myself.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I was scared.’
Shocked, he had to take another moment to compose himself. ‘Scared of me?’
‘No...’ She looked back at him, her face scrunched up. ‘Sorry, scared is the wrong word. It just felt like I was being controlled.’
While there was relief that she hadn’t been scared of him—he would rather have died than ever make Helena feel unsafe—her words landed like a blow, the implications immediately, nauseatingly clear. ‘In the same way your father controls your mother?’
She nodded. ‘And the same way he controlled me. That’s what scared me. I was too young and unworldly to see that I needed to stand up for myself and just tell you to back off and slow down.’
Theo could feel the pulse in his jaw throbbing to match the throb in his heart.
If she’d confided the truth about her parents’ marriage and her fears about what she perceived as his controlling behaviour, he would never have gone full blazes into arranging everything so they wouldn’t have to be parted. He would have slowed down and held off, if only she had voiced her fears.
She hadn’t trusted him enough to confide her fears. He’d taught her how to let her hair down and unbutton herself and he’d taught her the joy of arguing—he was Greek; his compatriots had turned shouting into an art form—but the arguments they’d had up to that final one had been arguments over trivial matters, like whether or not Brunelleschi was the greatest architect of the Renaissance. Helena was for yes; Theo was for no. Their arguments had never been of a personal nature against each other. When Helena had thrown her engagement ring in his face and screamed that she never wanted to see him again it had never crossed his mind that she meant it.
His Greek Wedding Night Debt (Mills & Boon Modern) Page 11