She was wearing a white halter-neck jumpsuit that set off her tan and figure to perfection. Her shiny black hair was loose and it flowed like a glossy river down her half-naked back. In the bright sunshine she looked like a luscious velvety rose: dark crimson, heady with fragrance. She took one’s breath away, thought Oriel – the flush of her flawless skin, the perfection of her make-up, the enormous sultry eyes, glowing with a million secrets. The diva seemed like the very embodiment of the perfect woman: incredibly sexy, vibrating with exquisite passions denied to ordinary mortals. No wonder men lost their minds over her.
As Yolanda reached them, Oriel realized that the singer wasn’t so oblivious to her presence as she was making out. She could feel hostility radiating from the diva although, if Damian’s impassive expression were anything to go by, he seemed unaware of the undercurrents. Or was he? Oriel thought she could detect a slight tightening of his jaw as Yolanda approached.
‘Yassou, Damian, tee khanees, agápi mou?’ Yolanda threw a possessive arm about Damian’s neck and kissed his cheek lingeringly. He pulled away from her embrace with a little less force than Oriel would have liked, considering she was standing next to them both. By now, the singer’s total disregard for her was becoming extremely rude. Couldn’t Damian see that?
‘I was worried sick, mathia mou.’ Yolanda’s hand was holding Damian’s arm, her body still far too close to his. ‘I tried to ring several times last night but you weren’t picking up. I nearly came over to Heliades but it was so late … and I didn’t want to disturb Helena, of course.’
Damian’s face was unreadable, guarded, as he smoothly brought Oriel into the conversation, moving stiffly away from Yolanda as he did so. Somehow, however, his cautious demeanour only helped confirm Oriel’s fears that he was feeling compromised, that he had something to hide.
‘Oriel, you know Yolanda, don’t you?’ He made no reference to the concern the singer had expressed, clearly not wishing to discuss his fight with Vassilis.
Oriel held out a hand to the exquisite diva but Yolanda ignored it, instead saying acidly: ‘Ah yes, you were the reason for that exhibition last night. Sing-hariteeria, congratulations! I expect you’re proud of yourself.’ Her almond-shaped eyes moved over Oriel’s face. ‘Quite a boost for your ego, I imagine, to have two men fighting over you in public.’
But Damian didn’t give Oriel the opportunity to answer. ‘Yolanda, that’s enough.’ His voice was forbidding – the dragon flared in his eyes – although it didn’t seem to have the slightest effect on the singer, who continued to glare at Oriel scathingly. ‘No one else shares any blame in what happened,’ he added gruffly.
Yolanda pouted her scarlet mouth at him. ‘Really, agápi mou? You men really have no idea at all, do you? You’re such lambs! But what a tragedy that two old friends were at each other’s throats last night.’ She darted a vicious look in Oriel’s direction. ‘And I know who I blame for that, no matter what you say.’
Damian ran a hand over his tired eyes and sighed. ‘Gia ónoma tou Theoú, oh, for God’s sake, Yolanda! Let it go, will you?’
‘I was only thinking of you. Who’s going to look out for you otherwise?’ Her eyes, gazing up at him, were now liquid pools of tenderness.
‘I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself, as you well know, Yolanda.’
Oriel stood stiffly, feeling humiliated and quietly furious. Why was he even listening to her? Every time the little witch so much as curled a beckoning finger in his direction it was as if he became enslaved all over again. Was this a pattern – a dance – that had controlled their lives since childhood? Would it ever end? She, for one, wanted no part in it.
Yolanda’s pink tongue moved over her red lips and she broke into a mischievous smile. ‘I think you should drop your little intern back at work and come join me at the beach. We could go to our favourite place. Remember the last time, agápi mou? … What we did there?’ Her words held such passionate promise that Oriel found herself blushing with mortification.
‘Don’t, Yolanda,’ said Damian, his voice a blunt warning. ‘And Despinis Anderson, for your information, is the senior archaeologist on my team. You should show more respect.’
Yolanda shot Oriel a vitriolic glance. ‘If you say so, agápi mou.’ She laid a jewelled hand on Damian’s arm. ‘Will I see you tonight?’
‘Tonight? Where?’
‘At the Zervoudakis.’
‘No.’ Yolanda waited for his explanation, but he didn’t offer one.
‘Since when have you become such a stick in the mud?’ The singer’s eyes snapped, though her tone was still teasing.
Seeing his scowl, she blinked her jet-black eyelashes at him. ‘Don’t look so cross. I say the truth, zoi mou. You know something? I hardly recognize you these days. You need to let go a bit more, have some fun.’ As if she sensed her words were getting her nowhere, Yolanda suddenly changed tack, softening as she did so. ‘But forgive me … the last thing I want is to anger you, Damian. You upset yourself enough yesterday. Let there always be peace and love between us.’ She gazed up at him, her eyes shimmering with a kind of feverish insistence as Damian gripped her arm and said something to her in a low murmur.
But Oriel had had quite enough. She turned away and took a few steps along the road. As she did so, she couldn’t help hearing Yolanda purring, ‘I won’t go to the Zervoudakis’ party tonight, I don’t care to go alone … Let’s have a private party of our own. Stay with me tonight, agápi mou. I want you with me. Mou éleipses, I miss you.’
She didn’t hear Damian’s answer but she looked round to see him escorting Yolanda back to the Bugatti, his face unreadable. Then he stood for a moment, watching the convertible moving away into the distance, before slowly retracing his steps towards her.
‘Let’s go to the staff house,’ he said a little brusquely, and Oriel got stiffly into his Jeep. Once seated beside her, he gave her a sideways glance, ‘You mustn’t take any notice of Yolanda’s direct way of talking.’ He smiled awkwardly. ‘She grew up rather wild, without much guidance, and now she is spoiled by her public. I’m afraid fame has gone to her head a little.’
He was making excuses for her! Oriel swallowed a sharp pang of jealousy that tasted like poison. ‘You don’t need to apologize for her,’ she said curtly. ‘I’m quite thick-skinned, you know.’
They drove in silence for a while. Oriel watched Damian’s long, elegant hands manipulate the wheel, hands that had caressed her so expertly. Anger and desire collided painfully inside her. Why did he make her feel this way? ‘At what time are we starting tomorrow?’
‘Early, but we won’t be going to the usual place.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve arranged for us to go over to Delos. If your friend at the Bodleian is right, the Roman trader, Marcus Sestius, retired there after his business collapsed, along with the seaport of Helice. So it’s a nice piece of the jigsaw, né?’
Oriel nodded, relaxing slightly. ‘What about the works I was contracted for? Am I not needed at the temple site?’
‘Vassilis, Stavros and the boys will still be working on that. I’d rather have your efforts concentrated on the undersea excavation, anyway. That’s what you were brought here to do. So, as there’s no diving until the site has been inspected by the Ministry, we may as well continue our research on Delos. Vassilis’s new equipment needs time to get here from the States anyway.’
‘Who’s coming with us?’
Damian turned to look at her. ‘It’ll be just you and me. Is there a problem?’
Oriel shrugged in an effort to be casual, despite the sudden racing of her heart, but the colour in her face deepened. ‘No, why should there be?’ she replied, meeting his gaze with a defiant lift of her chin. Still, her mind was crying out, You know what you’re doing to me, and you’re enjoying it.
Damian nodded. ‘Excellent. Étsi óste na échei enkatastatheí, so it’s settled.’
‘Delos is quite far. Are we going by plan
e?’
‘No, by sea.’
‘The dive boat?’
‘No, we’ll be taking my private yacht.’
Oriel was alarmed. ‘So we’ll be away at least for a couple of nights? How many nautical miles are we talking about?’
‘Almost a hundred and fifty so, yes, it will probably be a little more than that.’
‘What do you mean, a little more than that? I won’t go then.’
Damian flinched slightly at Oriel’s unequivocal answer. ‘Are you so afraid of being alone with me, Calypso?’
Afraid? She was terrified. The mere thought of being alone, totally alone with Damian, even for an hour, threw her into turmoil.
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Kyrios,’ she retorted, green eyes flashing daggers. ‘I’m not afraid of you, I simply don’t care to be alone with you. But I’m a professional and this new discovery is important, so you can count on me.’ And to herself a scared and defeated voice whispered: I’ve just signed my death warrant.
He gave a brief nod and, at that moment, slowed the Jeep and turned off the coast road, pulling up in front of a roughly built, two-storey grey house that stood in a courtyard on a cliff, overlooking a most spectacular view. There was no garden, only a few scraggy pines and olives.
‘We’re here,’ Damian announced, amusement hovering on his lips. ‘Still want to go in?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Oriel said with conviction but, having seen the exterior, she wondered what the inside of the house would be like.
‘Sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Let’s go, then. There’ll be no one here at this hour. The men are all still on site,’ he told her as he unlocked the front door.
Oriel stood in the hallway and looked around her. The place was clean and functional, denuded of the faintest hint of luxury. The walls were painted white with no adornments and, when she walked into the communal sitting room, the furniture appeared old and shabby. The contrast between this place and Heliades was shocking. Still, she had lived in accommodation that was much more basic than this.
‘Having second thoughts?’
‘No, not at all but, having seen your beautiful home, I think that a little more thought and effort should have been put into your staff house. After all, these men are your employees and the foreigners who come here are your guests.’
Damian shrugged. ‘In Greece we live outside, agápi mou, and anyway, most of the men have homes to go to when they’re not on duty. As for my guests, as you put it, they are very handsomely paid and this place is kept clean and has good electricity, and hot and cold running water.’
‘Is there a kitchen?’
He gave her a look and crossed his arms. ‘Of course, through there.’ He pointed back towards the hall. ‘They can cook their meals, but it’s only a short walk into town to the shops and local cafés. They have a car at their disposal, plus the minibus to take them around. What more can anyone ask for?’
Oriel saw his point but refrained from making any other comment.
‘The bedrooms are on the upper floor.’ Damian led the way up the stairs. Eight doors opened off the landing. He pointed to one at the end of the corridor. ‘That’s the bathroom, which is shared by everyone.’ He was watching her, probably expecting her to be dismayed, she thought, but Oriel just nodded.
Damian opened one of the doors on the landing. ‘This is your bedroom. It has a lock on it, which I would advise you to use. Some of these men like to drink. They’re rough but they’re good men and I wouldn’t want …’ The hint of a smile touched his mouth. ‘Well, you’re a big girl, you know what I mean.’
Oriel glared at him, eyes blazing. Was there no end to his sarcasm?
‘I can handle myself,’ she said with confidence. ‘I’ve met your men and they’re gentlemen. They wouldn’t take advantage of me.’
The look he gave her was enigmatic. ‘Anarotiémai, I wonder,’ he said softly, his eyes skimming down her with deliberate provocation.
She studiously ignored him, turning away to survey the bedroom. Like the rest of the house, the room was spotless with basic necessities. There was a single bed with a white sheet thrown over it and a blanket folded at its foot, plus a bedside table with a small lamp. In lieu of a cupboard, there was a rail for her clothes and, in the corner, stood a washstand with an old-fashioned jug, a basin and a pile of towels. Oriel’s eye was drawn to a quaint rocking chair that stood next to the window looking on to the sea: the only item in the room with some charm, and it made the place oddly appealing. With a bit of colour – some pictures and nice curtains – this bedroom could be transformed into a cosy space.
‘It’s more than I expected,’ she said. ‘Thank you, I’ll be very comfortable here.’
‘Suit yourself, agápi mou. All I want is to please you.’ A sparkle of amusement flickered in his eyes.
‘I’ll need my clothes. Could you give me a lift to Heliades so I can pack my case? I’ll drive myself back.’
‘Yes, of course agápi, it’ll be my pleasure.’ Damian looked at his watch. ‘It’s already five o’clock. Will you have supper with me?’
‘No, no, thank you. I didn’t get much sleep last night and if we have a long journey tomorrow, I’d prefer to have an early night.’
‘Very well.’ Damian smiled. It was a we have all the time in the world kind of smile, and Oriel retaliated with one of her own that said, don’t hold your breath, which made his sardonic features break into a slow grin.
‘I’ll come and collect you at five-thirty. Pack a mixture of cool and warm clothes. It’ll be very hot during the day and we’ll be doing a lot of walking, so comfortable shoes, but at night it can be quite cold, especially at Delos. Don’t worry about a sleeping bag, I have all that sorted.’
Damian’s tall, broad figure passed in front of her out of the room and Oriel followed him, shivers of anticipation coursing through her as they left for Heliades.
She was surely in trouble now.
* * *
It was almost seven o’clock when Oriel got back to the staff house with her suitcase. The men had returned by then and gave her a polite welcome, seemingly on their best behaviour. Had Damian somehow found time to give them a briefing, she wondered. They were going into town for dinner and asked her to join them and, although she thought it would have been a good idea to bond with the crew, she declined their invitation on this occasion. Oriel had already stopped off on the way back from Heliades to buy some fruit, a couple of tomatoes, a loaf of bread and a chunk of feta cheese. In all honesty, she was looking forward to having the place to herself.
The house was very quiet. She unpacked, hanging her clothes on the rail and putting a few casual shorts, tops and jeans into a small case with her more personal belongings to take on the trip to Delos. Damian had insisted on comfortable footwear so she packed her deck shoes.
They had not spoken much on their return to Heliades in the Jeep, or while she gathered her belongings. Damian had waited in the salóni of her apartment while she did so, never explaining why he remained there, but Oriel neither cared to ask nor discouraged him. On the contrary, she was relieved that he was there in case Helena or Beshir made an appearance.
He had carried her luggage down to the Volkswagen, put it on the back seat and opened the door for her. Then, just as Oriel was getting into it, Damian’s brows knitted together pensively, his large hand clenched on the handle. ‘You’ve found a friend in Mattias. Unusual, because he doesn’t take to strangers easily.’
‘I like him too, he’s an interesting man. He’s very fond of you and grateful for everything you’ve done for him. You saved his life and built him a new house … that’s quite something.’
A shadow had passed over Damian’s eyes. ‘If there is one thing I don’t want from you, it’s pity,’ he said gruffly and before she’d been able to answer, he had shut the car door and stepped back, signalling their conversation was at an end. She had driven off, wondering at how important Damian’s
pride must be to him and, in response, another strong twinge of emotion jolted her heart.
Oriel went downstairs to make herself a cup of coffee and a sandwich. She was just filling the kettle when she heard a car draw up to the house. When she peeped out of the window she was horrified to see Yolanda, dressed to the hilt in a black chiffon mini dress. A few seconds later, the doorbell rang.
Oriel went to the door and opened it a fraction. ‘Kaló vrády, there’s no one here. The men have—’
Without more ado, the singer pushed it open and walked in. ‘It’s you I have come to see, Despinis … Despinis …’
‘Anderson,’ Oriel supplied coolly, as she tried to curb the electric volts of fury coursing through her.
Yolanda gave her a long, sideways glance and laughed lightly. ‘So, Damian Lekkas has lost his head over a piece of pearly fluff, whose great big Little Red Riding Hood eyes look at me as if I were the big bad wolf about to gobble her up.’ The tone of her voice matched the cruel sensuality of her mouth.
Oriel marvelled at how dwarfed she couldn’t help feeling in the other woman’s presence. It was strange – Yolanda had a smaller frame than Oriel but such a strong personality shone from her that it filled the room in which they stood, making the place seem smaller because of the aura she radiated. Yolanda might have stepped from the frame of an El Greco painting; she could easily have hailed from a different time – totally at one with the pagan surroundings of Helios.
‘You must be wondering why I’ve come to see you. Why I’m not scratching your eyes out, since it’s obvious Damian is interested in you.’
Oriel opened her mouth to protest but the singer stopped her, raising a peremptory hand. ‘Please, don’t bother denying it. After all this time I recognize the signs,’ she said, nodding her head knowingly. ‘A man would have to be blind or emasculated not to notice your pale beauty, and I’ve been with Damian long enough to know that he has eyes like a hawk and the sensual instincts of a jaguar. He’s noticed you, and has probably even bedded you.’
Aphrodite's Tears Page 47
