by Anne Mather
‘This is where you live?’
‘No.’ The sleek car swept through the pre-dawn sky, and Karin put her watch forward two hours, realising that soon it would be morning. ‘My family are on another island close by. This—’ Xante gave her a thin smile ‘—is where we will prepare you to meet them.’
‘Prepare me?’
‘Karin—if we were in a serious relationship, if you were the woman I had chosen to meet my family—well …’ He glanced over to her and frowned, but didn’t finish his sentence.
‘I don’t walk around at home in full make-up and a ball gown, Xante, and I didn’t exactly have time to pack and prepare for a romantic weekend in Greece.’
‘Which is why we are here,’ Xante said as if he were talking to a petulant two-year-old. ‘To prepare you. We are staying in a beautiful hotel, with spas and beauty treatments.’
His derision hurt.
She was painfully aware that she wasn’t quite up to his exacting standards on every level.
‘I’ll need to get something. Do the shops open on a Sunday?’
‘It’s all been taken care of.’
And because it was Xante’s world she was living in for now, somehow she knew that it had!
The hotel was beautiful—nothing like the one she had left this morning, but it was stunning all the same. It was way more modern, with glass everywhere, and as she stepped into the foyer only then did his extreme wealth truly start to register. A vast glass display-cabinet stood on prominent display, filled with memorabilia—Olympic medals, a soccer ball. Although it was different from the hotel in Twickenham, clearly it was Xante’s hallmark. ‘You own this hotel too?’
‘Of course!’ Xante said. ‘I buy friends all over the world.’
His little barb pricked at her conscience. The cruel words she had hurled in their row had been in defence at his scorn. Xante didn’t need to buy friends; when he was being nice, his company alone was pleasure enough. But the foyer wasn’t exactly the place to rehash things. Instead she walked with him to Reception, feeling like a gypsy beside the sleekly groomed beauty of the receptionist, who flushed just a little and tossed her glossy hair as Xante approached. Karin could feel her rather wide-eyed curiosity and saw a flash of disapproval as, in excellent English, she enquired whether Karin would be requiring the use of the spa in the morning, handing her a huge catalogue of treatments, but Karin declined.
‘Maybe a massage to relax you?’ Xante suggested. ‘They can come to the villa.’
Stripping off was the last thing that would relax Karin and again, to his irritation, she shook her head.
‘Can you at least try and look as if you are enjoying yourself?’ Xante said as they walked through the grounds, away from the main hotel. The path was lit, as were the fountains, and everywhere Karin looked there was water—whether it was the black ocean ahead of them, or the steady music of rectangular ponds with fountains that broke the night air. ‘You look as if you are here to attend a funeral.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Karin said through gritted teeth, ‘I’ll turn on the charm when it’s required.’
‘It is required now!’ Xante snapped. ‘These people work for me.’
Karin was quite sure the receptionist had already put in a good few hours’ overtime; she’d seen the proprietary flash in her eyes when she’d looked at Xante! ‘Here.’ They arrived at a large whitewashed building. ‘This is us.’
It wasn’t just the foyer or the gardens that were stunning. As Xante pushed open the villa door and turned on the lights, it took a moment for her head to get round the sight that greeted her tired eyes.
There was a pool in the room!
Not a plunge pool, not a spa, but a large rectangular pool that jutted right out onto the private terrace. At the other end of the room there was a large olive-wood bed that was draped in flimsy fabric that moved with the gentle breeze. Her eyes swirled to the right, taking in the ocean view; the entire end of the room had been left open to reveal its glory. Soft white sofas were everywhere, the rendered, rough walls painted a duck-egg blue, and the whole effect was stunning. If she’d been here for any other reason, this luxurious retreat would have provided a blissful escape.
‘This is the honeymoon villa,’ Xante explained as Karin’s heart sunk further. ‘It has exclusive access to a private cove. Come; I will show you.’
‘Now?’ Karin blinked, but Xante was already heading off.
‘We have been cooped up on a plane; it will be nice to get some fresh air.’
As long as fresh air was all that he wanted! She had no idea where he got his energy from. Karin had been nearly twenty four hours without sleep and was wilting like a dandelion that had been mowed along with the grass. Whereas Xante, who had only managed two or maybe three hours at most, seemed as refreshed and invigorated as if he’d just woken after a full eight hours.
Still, the beach was beautiful. Dawn was still an hour or so off and the sun was beneath the horizon but awaiting its entrance. Stars were flicking off one by one, as if their owners were heading out, and the black sky had turned to a deep navy. Carrying her shoes, Karin could feel the soft sand beneath her feet, the air cool and refreshing as they walked to the water’s edge. Xante didn’t bother to roll up his trousers, just waded through it, and Karin did the same. The water was icy, the waves sometimes coming up to mid-calf, but it felt delicious and, yes, it was invigorating.
‘Most of the tourists leave at the end of summer; the sun isn’t warm enough to give them a tan and they consider the sea too cold to swim in. But I think this is the best time to come.’
‘You couldn’t swim in it, though.’ Karin was shivering just walking in it, but Xante flashed her a strange look.
‘I swim in the ocean every morning when I am here.’
‘Oh!’
‘We grew up by the water; it was our playground all year round.’ Xante laughed at her rather crestfallen expression. ‘You get used to it once you’re in.’
‘You must love it here.’
‘No,’ Xante answered, refusing to be rushed, just strolling along, and it was Karin who had to slow down if she wanted to hear what he said. ‘I come to Greece because this is where my mother lives.’
‘But it’s beautiful!’
‘I never said that it wasn’t.’ Xante shrugged. ‘But living here, coming here … The island my family lives on is smaller, it—’ He paused, for once his English not coming so easily as he sought the right word. ‘I feel closed in; everyone knows your business. It makes me feel …’
‘Stifled?’ Karin offered, glancing over, not quite comfortable in his company as they walked and talked, but close to it now.
‘That is the word! Yes, I feel stifled. I was very clever.’ Somehow he said it without sounding pretentious, just stating a fact. ‘My parents did not want me to be a fisherman like my father; they had high hopes for their only child. I got good grades at school and I was expected to do law or medicine, then come back and …’ He gave a low laugh. ‘I don’t think I have a very good bedside manner to be a doctor.’
Karin laughed. In bed, perhaps, she almost said, but didn’t; she was too nervous of what might follow to be suggestive.
‘And as for being a lawyer … I cannot really see me sorting out land divisions and deceased’s estates. If there was more crime perhaps it would have satisfied.’ She could see his point. There was a certain intelligence to him along with this restless energy, and Karin could see that an island, however beautiful, couldn’t suffice. ‘There is resentment,’ Xante admitted. ‘I tell you, because you will see it for yourself tomorrow.’
‘Because you left?’ Karin checked, but Xante didn’t answer. A wave caught her by surprise, coming up to her knees, and Karin was buffeted slightly. Xante took her hand to steady her, but she whipped hers away.
‘I was just trying to stop you falling, Karin.’ The good mood was broken, Xante’s annoyance at her jumpiness evident as he turned and headed back for the villa. ‘You’ll know
when I am trying to seduce you!’
Which was all very well. But back in the villa Karin knew that that moment was nearing. She wished that she could relax and enjoy the sheer luxury of the facilities, wished she could recapture some of the magic that had caressed them on the dance floor at their first meeting.
A vast showerhead as big as a dinner plate took centre stage in the opulent bathroom, and, having located the switch, Karin gingerly stripped off, feeling horribly exposed and lily-skinned. She caught sight of her scarred, pitted torso and hated herself. There was no juggling of taps to get the temperature right; an instant jet was delivered and she stepped under it, spiky needles of warm water beating her, bidding her to relax, except she couldn’t. Washing her body and hair in record time, Karin did try to prepare for what was to come, smothering her body in rich oil and combing through her hair. But, as was her habit, she put her small silk camisole back on and covered her unsightly flesh before pulling on a bathrobe. It was with all the lacklustre spirit of someone preparing to go to the dentist for root-canal surgery that she stepped out of the bathroom.
‘Better?’ Xante asked as she walked tentatively over to him. She looked about five years younger, with her hair wet and dripping and not a trace of make-up on her face. Bruises of insomnia were evident under her eyes, and so too was her nervousness.
‘Karin.’ Even the sound of her name made her jump. She was probably sobering up, Xante thought darkly—or coming down. ‘You should have a drink, something light to eat.’ He gestured to the coffee and juices that had been brought to the villa while she’d showered. The sweet almond pastries just made her stomach curl.
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘Look.’ Xante was losing patience now. ‘You ate nothing at the dinner yesterday, nothing on the plane—whisky is not the best source of energy!’ His eyes shuttered again, blocking out her earlier explanation, just refusing to go there in his mind. ‘You should make the most of your time here—take the spa treatments, eat well, rest.’ He wanted that for her, Xante realised. He wanted her to eat nice food and wear nice clothes; he wanted her to spoil herself with treatments in the spa. He wanted her to take care of herself, not for him, but for her. ‘Here life is slower,’ Xante said carefully. ‘Gentler. Maybe it would be good for you to try it.’
She knew what he meant and it touched her that he cared, that, even though he thought the very worst of her, still this imposing man could at times be disarmingly nice.
‘Eat.’ He pushed a plate of biscuits towards her. ‘Kourabiedes,’ he said. ‘Like a shortbread. And here, I ordered some hot chocolate for you.’
It was the single nicest thing anyone had done for her in a long time. The jet, the luxury hotel and the promise of the rose all paled beside this seemingly tiny gesture. It had been years, for ever, since someone had thought of her in such a way. For ever since her grandparents had put a mug of something sweet and warm in front of her and now, sitting down on the low sofa, it was nice not to examine his actions for a moment. It was even nicer to just dip a biscuit into her drink and pretend that someone actually cared.
‘Good?’ Xante checked, smiling at her frown at her first taste of Greek hot chocolate. ‘They add vanilla.’
‘And honey?’ Karin checked. ‘It’s fabulous.’ It was. She drained her cup and ate three of the biscuits, but she could feel him watching her, and remembered the real reason that she was here. She knew she couldn’t put it off for ever.
Xante watched her slender fingers playing with the scar on her wrist, as he had noticed she did when she was nervous, and couldn’t stop himself from asking now.
‘What happened there?’ Xante picked up her hand and examined the savage scar, so out of place on her soft, smooth skin.
She felt as if he were reading her palm, as if those gypsy eyes could see inside her. Karin snatched back her hand and felt the fleeting good mood between them evaporate again.
‘I don’t really want to talk about it.’
‘You ought to take better care of yourself, Karin.’
‘I do.’
‘It’s time for bed.’
The panic that flittered over her features enraged him. What the hell was she so scared of? He’d felt her unfurl in his arms, and she knew the terms of their arrangement. But a reluctant partner was no partner at all, and Xante wanted her writhing. ‘Go to bed; you need to sleep.’ He stood her up and practically marched her to the bed. He went to unwrap her gown, but she clung onto it. So he packed her into bed still wearing it, tucking the sheets around her. ‘Sleep!’ he ordered, because if she didn’t take his offer to sleep now, so help him God, she wouldn’t for a long time.
It was now Xante who needed a whisky!
He poured a drink and marched out onto the balcony, staring out at the sea, scanning the horizon for answers.
He hated coming back here.
Hated the beach he had stood on waiting for his father to return. Hated the sea that was smooth one minute and ferocious the next. He was dreading the christening, just dreading it, and not just because of Athena. Xante knew he would never walk into that church again without remembering the funeral and the fear of standing beside his wailing mother, this sudden stranger who’d been dressed in black.
Yes, he hated the islands. But most of all he hated the shame and disapproval that was always there in his mother’s eyes.
Nothing vindicated him.
Not his money, not his success.
Nothing he did made his mother happy. He had only been half-joking with Karin; a nice Greek girl and gaggle of babies was the only thing his mother wanted, and the one thing Xante refused to provide.
He took a sip of his drink, then remembered Karin’s earlier words.
I just wanted to taste you …
In rage and pure frustration, he hurled his glass out to the sea.
How, Xante begged of himself, did she do it?
Did this woman have an answer for everything?
Her eyes were the same colour as the Aegean Sea for a reason, Xante told himself—captivating and inviting one minute, but would ferociously claim a grown man the next.
He sat there staring out at the reddening skies for a long time before he walked over and watched her sleeping. She was curled up into a ball, hanging off the end of the vast bed, defensive even in sleep. Xante couldn’t believe the effect she had on him.
He wanted to lean over and kiss her, to wake her up with soft kisses and make love to her. Never had he wanted a woman more—it was the reason she was here, after all—yet he wanted her to want him too.
Stretching out on the bed beside her, still fully dressed, he reached for her and felt her stiffen and tense even in her sleep. He pulled her from the edge towards the centre of the bed then lay and silently watched until finally she relaxed a touch, her dressing gown falling open to reveal the plain camisole beneath. Her damp hair was splayed on the pillows, her face void of make-up. The scent of soap and toothpaste in the air was such a contrast to the scent of glossy beauties he was used to bedding, and never had so little effort been more endearing or confusing.
Enough of this softness, Xante told himself. When they awoke, normal service would be resumed.
But for now she needed to rest …
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF SHE’D had sunglasses handy, she’d have put them on. Waking to the brilliant, dazzling light, it took a moment for Karin to orientate herself.
The clock was nudging nine, and even if she had only slept for a few hours it was still the first proper rest that she’d had in ages—and for once she felt wonderful.
Wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her, she headed out to the terrace to join a very surly Xante, who was reading the paper.
‘Thanks for letting me sleep.’
‘No problem. Your luggage has arrived.’ Xante looked up and gave a tight smile at her frown of confusion. ‘I rang ahead on the plane,’ he explained. ‘If the clothes are not suitable, I can send someone out this morning.’
/>
Her smart new luggage had been unpacked and put away and Karin went and flicked through her new wardrobe. Oh, it was more than suitable; his shopper had thought of everything. The wardrobe was filled with gorgeous dresses, two linen suits, underwear that made her eyes water, skirts, pretty tops, shoes and a couple of pretty camisoles. Suddenly feeling rather guilty, Karin wondered if she got to keep them! There was even a pretty white bikini, which Karin hoped she wouldn’t be expected to put on.
Xante had no shame, though.
Dropping his towel, he headed for the pool, and she sat wearily on the bed. Her flimsy gown was wrapped to the neck, and she watched his lithe, toned body doing laps, wondering if he expected her to join him. A knock at the door made her jump, but it was just the waiter arriving with breakfast. Xante carried on swimming. He was so utterly uninhibited, so Mediterranean, that it only accentuated her English awkwardness. Karin busied herself flicking through her new wardrobe, trying not to think about him so close and so naked, trying to decide what would be best to wear for the christening.
‘Don’t bother getting dressed yet,’ Xante drawled with clear intent, climbing out of the water once the waiter had gone. Dripping wet, he walked towards her and, even though she quickly averted her eyes, it was too late—because one look was enough to tell her he was gorgeous. There was just a small smattering of dark hair on his chest that led a dangerous trail down his body. She’d tried to tear her eyes away, but she’d seen him.
Had seen the thick length of him that awaited her later. Her throat felt impossibly tight, her voice too high for normal. She chatted nonsense about whether one tipped the waiters here, and how nice the breakfast looked; anything other than look down! Without a word of response to her nervous twitter, he picked up a towel and wrapped it around his hips, then headed out to the terrace, where Karin followed.
He motioned to the table, to the spread of yoghurts and fruit, and Karin realised then that she was hungry. Stirring berries into yoghurt, she took a sip of the strongest, sweetest coffee she had ever tasted, and promptly settled for juice.
