by C. Gockel
‘Hello, my darling,’ he said throatily.
Skye moved to shut the door in his face, but he jammed it open with his foot. ‘You can’t escape me, you know. I won’t rest and I won’t leave you alone until you are mine.’
She gazed at his handsome face. He looked – bizarrely – like he was telling the truth.
‘If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police,’ she said, with more conviction than she actually felt.
Apollo laughed. ‘Don’t you know who I am? The police can’t stop me.’
The worst thing was, Skye reflected, that she believed him. She had no idea who he really was but something about him emanated a sort of shivering power. The kind that made her want to hide under the bed. She thought quickly, then made a decision. Why the hell not?
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘But I’m busy today. Let’s meet tomorrow instead.’
‘I’m not going to wait that long,’ Apollo uttered implacably.
‘If you want to spend time with me, then you’ll just have to.’
He clasped his chest. ‘You leave me no choice, my lady. Tomorrow it is.’ His eyes glinted for a moment. ‘But before I go, you must grant me one kiss.’
‘No.’
‘I won’t leave without it.’
Skye sighed. She’d never see him again, and if it meant he left her in peace…
‘Fine.’
Apollo smiled as if there had never been any doubt that she would grant his request. He leaned in, his lips touching hers and his hand curving round her waist. Skye felt his tongue pushing against her lips and tried not to recoil. After a few moments, she pulled away.
A smile lit his perfectly sculpted lips. ‘I knew you’d be a great kisser,’ he said.
She tried to avoid rolling her eyes. Given that she’d stood stock still and not moved a muscle, she’d hardly provided him with a passionate clinch.
‘You said you’d leave me alone now.’
Apollo’s eyes smouldered. ‘Only until tomorrow.’
Skye forced her mouth into a vague semblance of a smile. ‘Of course.’
‘Adieu, sweet princess.’
‘Goodbye,’ Skye replied and firmly closed the door.
The telephone rang again. This time she practically ran into the kitchen and scooped it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Yes, this is Love and Associates calling again,’ said Coop. ‘Have you made a decision? I realise it’s very short notice but our client is rather desperate.’
‘I’ll take it,’ Skye said, throwing all caution to the wind. ‘But only if I can leave tonight.’
The corners of Coop’s mouth turned up. ‘Excellent,’ he purred. ‘We’ll send a car around seven o’clock to take you to the airport. Goodbye Ms Sawyer.’
Skye put the phone down. If someone had told her yesterday morning when she was in here baking a few cupcakes that she’d be moving to Greece today, she’d have thought they were crazy. She blinked rapidly. Everything was happening so fast. Then she glanced at the clock on the wall and realised that if she was going to pack she had better get a move on.
Chapter Nine
By the time she finally arrived at the palatial mansion in Greece where she was going to live and work, Skye felt incredibly weary and travel-worn. It had been difficult saying her farewells to Chrissie, Joy and Emma. Emma in particular had been sceptical about the job. ‘But you don’t know anything at all about this man!’ she’d protested. ‘What if he turns out to be some kind of serial killer stalker?’
Skye had refrained from pointing out that she’d already found her own stalker right here in London and merely murmured that it was a great opportunity which had come along at just the right moment. Joy was adamant she could get Helios to change his mind about sacking her but, the more her friends protested that she was being rash and putting herself in danger, the more determined Skye had become to see it through. It might have been a coincidence that she’d been offered this job only hours after losing her last one, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, Skye had to admit, she’d been treated like royalty from the moment the shiny limousine had pulled up outside their small London terrace.
She was driven directly to the airport where there was a first-class ticket to Athens waiting for her. And as soon as she emerged from the bustle of immigration and customs, there was another driver waiting to collect her. It was a long drive and, as darkness had already fallen by the time she clambered into the car, she’d been unable to work out which direction they were travelling in. However, the car was thoughtfully equipped with a mini-bar and television screen and the journey had been more than comfortable.
She attempted to engage the driver in stilted conversation about her new employer, but he said that he’d never met him: this was a last-minute contract job. That made Skye feel rather nervous although she reminded herself of Shakespeare’s words in Macbeth: ‘Screw your courage to the sticking place and we’ll not fail’. Of course, the tragic Macbeth’s success had been famously short-lived but that didn’t mean the sentiment should be ignored.
The driver helped her take her luggage into the house and then left. Despite the fact that the place was bathed in warm orange lights, it seemed entirely deserted. Skye wandered from room to room until, finally finding a large living room area complete with vast leather sofas and a carefully positioned chaise longue, she came across a note.
Welcome.
Please make yourself at home as much as possible. Help yourself to food from the kitchen. I have taken the liberty of making you a small snack in case you are hungry after your long trip. There is a bedroom for you down the hall – third door to the right. You have free access to the premises apart from the east wing, which I must ask you not to enter. I value my privacy and require peace and quiet in which to work.
Kamadeva
The words were etched in ink in an elegant looping script. Skye spent some time reading and rereading the note. Kamadeva was certainly an unusual name. She wondered whether her new employer was of Indian descent. Despite Love and Associates’ warning about his reclusive nature, Skye was surprised he’d not appeared to greet her. She had no way of even knowing whether he was in the house or not.
Shrugging to herself, she wheeled her luggage down the corridor to her bedroom. The floor beneath her feet was cool marble, without a speck of dust in sight. She felt like she was in a luxurious five-star hotel rather than someone’s home. Even so, she was stunned when she cautiously pushed open the door to her room. She’d suspected it was going to be a far cry from her cupboard at Emma’s place in London, but nothing had prepared her for this. That whole house could have fitted into this room.
She stared around, mouth half open. There was a huge king-size, four-poster bed, with billowing silk sheets hanging down from the wooden frame and plump pillows atop a pristine white coverlet. Taking a step forward, Skye realised it was embroidered with birds, bees and butterflies, each one apparently individually hand-crafted because no two were alike. She traced her fingers over its soft, smooth surface and took in the rest of the room. There were gigantic splashes of colour from the artwork on the walls and beautiful teak furniture. As well as the door through which she had entered, there were two others on opposite sides. Skye opened the first one and entered an en-suite bathroom, tastefully tiled in matte black, with a huge old-fashioned bathtub and rain shower. The second door led into a walk-in wardrobe. Skye glanced ruefully down at her suitcase. Her small wardrobe would look rather pathetic hanging up in there.
Leaving her bag, she wandered onto the balcony and peered down. The first thing she saw was the turquoise-blue of the swimming pool, illuminated by cleverly placed lighting. Skye wondered whether she’d be allowed to use it. She’d not brought a costume with her though, so it probably didn’t matter. She bit her lip and stared out over the gardens. Whoever her new employer was, he certainly wasn’t short of a bob or two.
Coop, hovering in the doorway, watched her lean over the balustrade and rest h
er face in her hands. He’d grinned to himself when he saw her reaction to the room and was glad he’d picked out the best guest suite for her. He felt less happy when he caught her glancing at her suitcase and guessed her thoughts. He’d have to arrange for her to buy some new clothes. Maybe he could get a tailor to come up next week and take her measurements. As much as he was doing this to get his own back on Apollo, he was determined Ms Sawyer wouldn’t suffer any more as a result of his actions. When she turned round and headed back to her suitcase, he quietly left to allow her the privacy she thought she already had.
The next morning Skye woke up early. Despite being in a new bed, she’d slept remarkably well and felt refreshed and ready to face whatever the day might bring. Determined to give her Mr Kamadeva a good first impression, she showered quickly then pulled on the smartest clothes she owned – a suit she’d bought from the high street at considerable expense for all the interviews she had mistakenly thought she’d be attending. Then she headed out.
The mansion was quiet and peaceful and nothing seemed to have been disturbed from the night before. Frowning, she wandered into the living room, but it was as empty as everywhere else. Seeing a set of stairs which she’d not noticed the evening before, she walked down, feeling distinctly nervous. Her heels clicked on the marble flooring, somehow making the whole place feel even emptier. There was a small door at the foot of the staircase so she reached forward and opened it, blinking as the morning sun immediately sprang into view. Realising she must be entering the pool area, she spotted a small table set up with a coffee pot, a jug of orange juice and various breakfast items. But there was still no sight of anyone else.
There was a small note folded up on one of the plates. Skye picked it up and read its contents.
Ms Sawyer,
Please enjoy your breakfast. When you are finished, there is a list of errands upstairs in the kitchen which I’d like you to run for me. The rest of the day is yours to do with as you see fit.
Kamadeva
Huh. So her mysterious employer still wasn’t deigning to show his face. Maybe he was just a bit shy. She could certainly relate to that. Skye gulped down a croissant and quick coffee, then headed back upstairs, leaving the warm golden sunshine for another time.
There were five items scrawled in the same handwriting on a sheet of heavy cream paper, next to which sat a brand-spanking, new laptop. First on the list, she had to ensure the kitchen was fully stocked. A set of car keys had been left for her, along with instructions for how to get to the nearest town. There was nothing to suggest what Mr Kamadeva wanted the kitchen stocked with, so she’d just have to guess. Pulling out a drawer, she found a notepad and pen, then went round the kitchen methodically, opening every cupboard as well as the vast fridge freezer, and making a note of everything she saw there. She didn’t find anything that suggested her employer was Indian – all the food and left-over items seemed to suit expensive European tastes. There were some oysters which, when she sniffed them, smelled decidedly off. Skye had never eaten oysters in her life but she was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to reek of rotting flesh. The fridge also contained some squashed strawberries, over-ripe figs and dark chocolate. There was a particularly pungent cheese lurking at the back, too. Skye didn’t recognise it and there wasn’t a label, so she’d just have to do her best to source it.
She was halfway out the door when a thought occurred to her. The note last night had said there was a snack prepared for her. Unless that had been a lump of dark chocolate and a glass of wine, there was nothing else she’d come across that was actually edible. And yet this morning she’d dined on fresh orange juice and a croissant which tasted as if it had just come out of the oven. So why was there no further evidence of real food like that in the kitchen? Puzzled, Skye scratched her head then decided she was over-thinking things. The orange juice and bread were probably all that was left in the house; if she’d had her pre-prepared snack the night before, that was probably what she’d have been eating.
Coop watched her go, grinning merrily to himself. He’d deliberately given her a list of things to do which would take her ages to complete. The shopping was the easiest, and even then he was fairly certain she’d spend the whole day trying to locate the cheese. The local market didn’t tend to go in for such speciality items. But as long as little Skye Sawyer was busy, she wouldn’t waste too much time worrying about her invisible employer. He’d have quite enjoyed tailing her to see how she got on but unfortunately his mother had already sent orders about three jobs he had to complete that day. It was annoying because he’d hoped to check on Apollo and see how he was doing now that his little lovebird had flown. It was probably just as well though. Coop doubted he’d be able to resist telling the god that Ms Sawyer was living with him; it would be more painful for Apollo to experience total loss and devastation before the searing hurt of jealousy.
‘Love is a cruel mistress,’ Coop said aloud, before smiling again and amending his statement to, ‘Love is a cruel master.’
It took Skye ages to work out how to open the garage. She spent what seemed like forever hunting around in the darkness before she found the light switch, then she had to open the door so she could drive out. At least she located the nearest town easily enough but it took half an hour to find somewhere to park Mr Kamadeva’s monstrosity of an SUV. He clearly wasn’t someone who worried too much about the environment, she thought sniffily, when she finally found a space large enough.
Things didn’t improve when she located the shops and the local market. She managed to get figs and strawberries easily enough, along with some orange juice, milk and coffee. But she couldn’t find the sodding cheese for love nor money and, whenever she tried to ask anyone, they looked at her in alarm when they realised she didn’t speak a word of Greek and backed away. Irritated with herself for not using the internet to find out what cheese was in Greek before she left the house, she eventually gave up and returned defeated to the car, only to find a motorcyclist had parked next to her and somehow managed to scrape its handlebars along the SUV’s gleaming paintwork.
Wetting the edge of her sleeve with saliva, Skye tried to rub off the mark, but only seemed to make it worse. Her heart sinking at the thought of telling the boss she still hadn’t met that she’d ruined what was probably his pride and joy, she clambered back into the car and drove off, momentarily forgetting she was supposed to drive on the other side of the road and almost taking out an elderly cyclist. Cheeks reddening in embarrassment as he gesticulated at her in a fashion which left absolutely no doubt as to its meaning, Skye felt utterly crushed.
By the time she found her way up the winding road and through the hills to Mr Kamadeva’s house, her shoulders were slumped and she could feel a hard lump of tears building up inside her chest. Skye threw the keys back down onto the kitchen counter, where they landed with a clatter, and began to pull out the rotting food from the fridge to make way for the new stuff, cursing aloud all the time.
Coop, returning from the last of his mother’s tasks, took one look at her dejected frame and reached out for her without thinking. He only just managed to draw back his hand in time before it connected with her cheek. The list he’d given her had been intended to occupy her time and make her feel needed, not to upset her. He was so absorbed in watching her and wondering what he could do to make her feel better that he almost jumped out of his skin when the phone in his pocket began to ring.
Skye, hearing the ring from right behind her, jerked her head up and banged it painfully on the roof of the fridge. Yelling in pain, she twisted around, assuming that the mysterious Mr Kamadeva was there. But when she looked, the kitchen was empty and the ringing had stopped abruptly. An oddly appealing smell of earthy cedar lingered in the atmosphere.
‘Mr Kamadeva?’ she called out. ‘Hello?’
There was a thump from another room. Skye followed the noise, her eyes narrowing. It wasn’t possible that the billionaire had run away because she was about to turn around and s
ee him, was it? Skye was shy – but even she wasn’t as bad as that. Was anyone?
She felt an uncomfortable prickle across her shoulders and down her spine. Everything about this just felt wrong. Perhaps she’d made a huge mistake by coming here. She wandered through every room, peering into each one, until all that was left was the large door leading to the forbidden East Wing. Skye pressed her ear against it, but whatever – or rather whoever – had been making those noises and owned that phone had fallen completely silent.
Coop watched her warily, wondering what she was thinking. Her usually smooth forehead was furrowed and his hand itched to lean over and massage away the creases. Thank goodness he’d managed to turn the phone off before she’d turned around. After twenty-four hours, he didn’t think Ms Sawyer was quite ready to believe she was living with an invisible god.
When she gave up, and walked back off to the kitchen, he quietly opened the door to the east wing, walked inside and pressed re-dial.
‘Hey,’ complained Hermes when he answered, ‘what gives? You hung up on me!’
‘I was with Skye,’ Coop said.
‘Who?’
He shook his head slightly. ‘Sorry, Ms Sawyer. I was with Ms Sawyer. She heard the phone and obviously realised someone was there.’
‘So she knows you’re invisible?’ asked Hermes, aghast.
‘No, she was turned the other way,’ Coop explained. ‘Look, just don’t call me in the future, okay? I’ll call you.’
‘Fine,’ his friend said, with an obvious note of hurt in his voice.
‘I just don’t want her to think she’s going crazy, that’s all.’
‘You know the easiest way to manage that would be for you not to live with her. She’s going to catch on sooner or later, Coop.’
