Hired by the Impossible Greek

by Clare Connelly

  ‘I’d love to see what it looked like back then. The damage it’s sustained is such a tragedy.’

  ‘It’s part of it, though,’ he murmured in response, his eyes taking in the pocked pillars, the crumbling ruins that had been central to so many wars since its creation. ‘Each mark tells a story and speaks to the building’s defensive capabilities. It might look better without the damage but it would have a less rich history; it would have played a less vital part in Athenian society.’

  ‘And that would make it less emblematic,’ she agreed, looking up at him, her dark eyes intriguing and speculative.

  ‘You said you’ve been to Athens. Was it to study?’

  ‘I worked at the observatory for a few months.’

  ‘You enjoy physics?’

  ‘Yes, very much so.’ She smiled again.

  ‘You don’t regret leaving it to become a teacher?’

  ‘I didn’t leave it. I made a conscious decision to continue my work, but I wanted to have another focus. I enjoy the challenge of physics, the possibilities and—it’s strange to say it—the cathartic relief that comes from taking vast numerical sequences and wrangling them into some kind of order. It’s a truly sublime process—up until a month ago, I would have said better than sex.’ She winked at him and he laughed, pulling her closer, her body fitting perfectly against the ridges of his.

  ‘And this wasn’t enough for your parents?’

  He felt her stiffen a little at his side.

  ‘They didn’t let me stick around long enough to explain that I wasn’t abandoning my science work altogether.’

  ‘Would it have made a difference?’ A motorbike zipped past, loud and distracting. She waited until the sound had ebbed completely.

  ‘I don’t know. I think not—my desire for anonymity was at odds with their plans.’

  ‘They enjoyed the fame that came with your success?’

  She made a guttural noise of agreement.

  ‘How come I haven’t heard of you?’

  ‘Well, outside of England I wasn’t exactly famous,’ she said with a self-deprecating laugh. ‘It’s not as though I’m the only person in the world with above-average intelligence.’

  ‘What exactly is your IQ?’

  Even in the moonlight he could see the heat that flushed her cheeks. Or perhaps he was simply familiar enough with her to know that she was modest—almost to a fault.

  ‘You don’t have to say if you would prefer not to.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She expelled an uneven breath. ‘Around two hundred.’

  He let out a low whistle. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘It’s just the way I was born.’

  He stopped walking, wrapping his arms low around her waist and looking into her eyes. ‘It’s not a fault, Amelia.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘You shouldn’t feel embarrassed by it.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s isn’t the IQ that embarrasses me, it’s people’s reactions to it. It’s being seen to exploit something that I had no hand in acquiring.’

  ‘How is that different to what a supermodel does?’

  She lifted her brows. ‘You’re calling me a brain equivalent to a supermodel?’

  He laughed at that. ‘Apparently.’

  ‘I suppose everyone has different dispositions. Perhaps if my parents hadn’t...’

  ‘Gloried in your brilliance?’ He was teasing her but she was frowning, a little divot between her brows that he wanted to wipe away.

  ‘They turned me into someone people knew about. They did interviews and got me in the papers; that was all part of it. For a while, my life felt like a circus. I had no control over where I went and what I did, and while I enjoyed the academic side of my life—I truly love studying and felt most at home when I was absorbing new information—I craved a normal childhood too. Friends, games, fun. Laughter. I don’t think I laughed my entire childhood.’

  He lifted a hand, cupping her cheeks, looking down into her eyes with genuine sympathy. ‘You must have felt disappointed in them.’

  ‘I do. But they’re still my parents. I would have forgiven them—I can understand how difficult it would have been to bypass the opportunity to improve our financial standing—but they’ve cut me out of their life, Santos. I’m persona non grata to them and they did it so damned easily.’ Tears sparkled on her eyes and something inside him shifted painfully.

  ‘They were so angry with me. At first, I presumed they’d get over it. But they never did. They stopped returning my calls, changed their numbers, blocked my emails. I tried going to their home to speak to them—they moved house. I have no idea where they are now. I presume in London, because leaving it wouldn’t make sense, but I don’t know for sure. I bucked their plans and they cut me out of their life as though I meant nothing to them. To my mum and dad, my only point of merit was my intelligence—and what that meant for them. The realisation was one of the hardest I’ve ever come to.’

  Santos was not a violent man. Having a front row seat to his father’s life had taught him that all strong emotions had the potential to be disastrous, so he was generally guarded, but in that moment he wanted, more than anything, to shake her parents for what they’d done to her. Not only in shutting her out of their life but in turning her into their prize performer and neglecting to care for her whole self.

  ‘You deserve better than that.’

  Her smile was lopsided, a ghost on her face, haunted by grief. ‘I felt worthless.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘It was hard.’

  She spun out of his arms and began to walk once more, her eyes trained on the Acropolis with its golden lighting. ‘My friend Brent introduced me to the Classics a long time ago. I loved them for their dynamically drawn emotional peaks and troughs, but it was only once I was living my own Aristotelian tragedy that I could see what they were really about.’

  Santos waited for her to continue.

  ‘The purpose of a Greek tragedy is almost to purge you of grief, so, while you may watch the play and feel everything on the spectrum of sadness, there is an inevitable catharsis that comes after that—a relief from the pain that is supposed to result in an emotional lightness.’

  He considered that, and in the back of his mind he wondered at her perspective on things, and how much he enjoyed her ability to weigh in on any subject. What did he expect? Intellectually she clearly blew him out of the water, but far from being threatened by that he wanted to absorb what he could from her.

  ‘Did you feel lighter once you’d gone through the tragedy of your argument with them?’

  ‘Eventually.’ She said the word with a smile that was more like herself, light and simple, happy. Relief spread through him. ‘It took a long time to accept the finality of what they’d done, and also how earnest they were in wanting me out of their lives. It wasn’t so much their decision as the way their decision showed me that even my own parents thought of me as unimportant. Unlovable.’ She winced a little, and her honesty had him wanting to rush to fill the silence with assurances. But what could he offer?

  ‘None of this was your fault,’ he said with firm determination. ‘I don’t know them but the impression I have is that your parents are absolute fools to have let such a trivial matter come between you.’

  ‘The thing is, it wasn’t trivial. Not to me. My vocation is a reflection of who I really am, in here.’ She pressed her fingers between her breasts. ‘I think teaching is one of the most worthy and important professions. In a thousand lifetimes I would always have chosen to be doing this. I love working with children; I love their optimism and potential and the fact they’re little sponges, brains ready to learn and acquire information.’

  Her passion throbbed inside his veins, her words carrying a physical weight that ran through him. It would be unfair to compare Amelia to the women he’d dated in the past—she was dif
ferent from anyone he’d ever known, male or female—but he couldn’t help thinking that she was the most captivating woman he’d ever slept with.

  ‘If you became a bit of a minor celebrity in England, how have you been able to avoid recognition now?’

  ‘I’m using my mother’s maiden name,’ she said simply. ‘Grandma Ashford and I were close. When I chose to reinvent myself, it felt appropriate to honour her in that way.’

  ‘So you’re not completely alone?’

  The light shifted from her eyes. ‘She died a few years ago.’ Amelia swallowed, her throat shifting. The moon cut through a cloud, bathing the footpath in front of them in silver light.

  Amelia reached out a hand, as though she could touch it, then pulled it back almost awkwardly, her eyes jerking up to his.

  ‘What is your actual name?’

  She hesitated for only a brief second. ‘I was born Amelia Jamieson.’

  He hadn’t heard of her, but that didn’t mean anything. As she said, press coverage had probably been at its strongest in the UK.

  ‘Well, Miss Ashford, I think you are brave and I think you deserve to be happy. I also think your pupils are incredibly lucky to have you.’

  * * *

  ‘I suppose we should go back to the island soon?’ She glanced at her wrist watch, surprised to see it was almost midnight.

  They’d walked all over Athens after dinner, with no destination in mind, simply a desire to be together, side by side. At least, she thought they’d had no destination in mind, but here, in an upscale neighbourhood surrounded by modern homes that were four storeys high, he nodded towards one.

  ‘Or we could stay here?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’m gathering it’s your Athens home and not just some stranger’s place you think looks okay for a night’s accommodation?’

  He grinned and her heart skipped a beat. It had been a pretty perfect night. She felt so comfortable with him, but that didn’t change the fact that every now and again he smiled, or looked at her with eyes that were smouldering, and she lost the ability to breathe altogether for how completely, heart-stoppingly handsome he was.

  ‘It’s my place.’

  She eyed it, hesitating a little.

  ‘It would probably be better for us to go back to the island.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because if we spend the night here there’s no way Talia won’t put two and two together.’

  ‘And get four. So?’

  ‘I thought we agreed no one would find about this.’

  ‘It’s Cameron we care about protecting. Does it matter if Talia works out that we’re sleeping together?’

  Her heart skipped another beat, this one less pleasurably.

  Does it matter if Talia works out that we’re sleeping together?

  Why did she want to pull at that sentence, to inject something else into it? Because they weren’t just sleeping together. She’d felt more connected to him tonight than ever before and that wasn’t about sex.

  ‘It’s your decision,’ he said quietly, his eyes wandering across her face, studying her thoughtfully.

  ‘It would be good to see where Cameron’s going to live,’ she conceded, after a beat had passed.

  His smile dug right inside her. ‘Come on.’ His hand reached for hers and she put hers in it, smiling for no reason she could think of as they crossed the street together and took the stairs to his front door.

  He didn’t use a key. There was an electric pad and he swiped his watch across it, so it opened with a soft click. A light automatically came on and Santos stood back, gesturing for Amelia to precede him into the house.

  A high-ceilinged corridor gave way to a staircase to the left and a lounge area on the right.

  ‘Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Perhaps a tea?’

  He flashed her a grin at that but lifted his shoulders, detouring away from the living space to bring the kettle to life. She watched as he made their drinks—coffee for him, tea for her.

  ‘Won’t you be awake all night?’

  His grin was laced with seduction. ‘I can only hope.’

  Her pulse slammed through her like a tidal wave; heat began to build low in her abdomen.

  He led her upstairs then, and up again and again, until the steps narrowed, there were fewer and a small door opened onto the roof of the building, giving an uncompromised view of Athens and the Acropolis.

  Above them, the stars shone against an inky black sky. She expelled a sigh of contentment, cupping her tea in her hands, watching as Santos pulled a brightly coloured blanket from a basket, spreading it across the roof, over the surface, before returning to the basket to retrieve some cushions. He scattered them over the blanket, then gestured for her to take a seat.

  ‘Nice touch,’ she drawled, using humour to defuse the fact that her heart was fluttering wildly inside her. She moved to the blanket, settling herself cross-legged on one side of it. He stretched out on his side, an arm propped beneath him, his body turned towards her. ‘Is this a standard seduction routine, then? I imagine it works pretty well.’

  She was sure she felt him bristle at that. ‘Actually, I don’t come up here often. I thought you would like the view.’ He lifted his eyes towards the stars so she immediately felt childish for having waved his playboy reputation between them. She winced and turned her attention to the ancient city sprawled before them.

  ‘I do. Thank you.’

  ‘Does it bother you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That I date a lot of women.’

  ‘You mean sleep with a lot of women?’

  He sipped his coffee and she could feel his eyes heavy on her profile. He didn’t answer her question.

  ‘Why would it?’ She angled her face to his, her expression carefully blanked of any emotional response.

  ‘I’m so different to you.’

  ‘Actually, you’re similar to me in more ways than you’re not.’ She took a drink of her tea then placed the cup on the ground beside the mat, wriggling down to lie beside him, her body inverse to his, a mirror image of his position. On autopilot his hand curved over her hip and her gut kicked with the anticipation that contact evoked.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘We’re both loners, choosing to stay isolated from any depth of human connection rather than be hurt by someone we love. You do that by having meaningless sex with whatever woman takes your fancy. I do it by losing myself in my work and refusing to get involved with anyone.’

  She hadn’t consciously appreciated it before that moment, but as she spoke the words she realised how true they were.

  ‘In my case, it’s more that I don’t see the value in that kind of relationship. I appreciate finding your “soul mate”—’ he said the word with derision ‘—and living “happily ever after” might be the aspiration for many people, perhaps even the meaning of life, but for me, it’s not. Everything I have seen has led me to believe it’s a flawed goal, and that people make themselves unhappy by aspiring to it. I am not a loner. I enjoy the company of others.’

  ‘But on your terms,’ she interjected softly.

  He appeared to think about that a moment, then nodded unapologetically. ‘On terms that are mutually agreed and which leave no room for misunderstanding or hurt feelings.’

  ‘I wonder if that’s possible.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know if emotions can necessarily be so neatly corralled into order.’

  ‘Which is why I keep them out of my life.’

  Her smile was indulgent. ‘You do, but I’m not so sure every single woman you’ve ever been with could say the same.’

  ‘It’s something I make clear before I get involved with a woman.’

  She rolled her eyes, laughing a little. ‘That’s just a w
ay of absolving yourself of guilt. People change. Someone might think one thing and then circumstances conspire to alter their expectations. You don’t think it’s possible that even one of the women you’ve been with wanted more from you than you were able to give?’

  ‘If I thought that, I would end it immediately.’

  ‘To save her from being hurt?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out.’

  ‘You’re mocking me.’

  ‘A little,’ she conceded, reaching behind her for her tea and lifting it to her lips, then placing it on the mat between them.

  ‘I think you’re wrong.’

  ‘Statistically, that’s not likely.’

  A grin flashed across his features. ‘If you bring statistics into it then you have an unreasonable advantage in this argument.’

  ‘I didn’t mean for us to argue.’

  ‘You’re challenging my lifestyle.’

  ‘I’m pointing out that it might not be as perfectly neat as you imagine, that’s all.’

  ‘And all the evidence tells me it is.’ He lifted his broad shoulders and the hand on her hip began to shift, his fingers moving rhythmically over her flesh there, so holding onto her thoughts became difficult.

  ‘Now you’re pushing your own advantage.’

  ‘Am I?’ he challenged with mock innocence. ‘How?’

  ‘By making it impossible to think clearly.’

  His grin showed he knew exactly what he was doing. Unapologetically, he dropped his hand to the bottom of her dress, sliding it up her thighs.

  ‘I’m more interested in your dating life than mine, in any event.’

  ‘What dating life?’ she said with a small laugh. ‘And why?’

  ‘Because what I do is not uncommon. What you do is—’