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Chantal relaxed slightly. The dress code had been one of her major concerns about this trip. Given the deficiencies of her wardrobe, the thought of ‘dressing for dinner’ had filled her with dismay. And as for leaving her silk or diamonds at home—not only did she not possess any silk and diamonds, she didn’t have a permanent home in which to leave them.
‘It sounds perfect.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. We both know you’re going to hate it. I think we’re about to discover just how “adaptable” you are, Isabelle.’
Probably a great deal more adaptable than he thought.
She braced herself as the plane came into land. ‘Is this it?’
‘No.’ He unfastened his seat belt and rose to his feet. ‘There is no landing strip on the island; it’s too mountainous and craggy. We take a boat from here. So if you’ve any thoughts of running away, you’re going to be disappointed. Unless you develop fins and a tail, once you’re on the island you’re stuck there.’
Angelos felt the spray on his face and increased the power, revelling in the sudden surge that had the luxury speedboat bouncing over the water, leaving a line of foam in its wake.
This stretch of sea was notoriously rough, but he didn’t slacken the pace. Instead he steered the boat bows-on to the dancing waves.
Would the woman be seasick?
For a moment he almost relished what lay ahead.
Someone like her, who preyed on vulnerable men, would be frustrated and out of her depth on the island. There would be no one to seduce.
And not only that she’d been forced to leave all her seduction tools behind, he thought, smiling to himself as he contemplated what the mixture of seaspray and wind must be doing to her hair.
With a certain sadistic pleasure, he glanced over his shoulder—and felt a flash of surprise. Her hair was blowing wildly in the wind, but instead of clutching at it, as he’d expected, she was resting her head back against the safety rail of the boat and her eyes were closed.
She looked strangely content. Which made no sense at all.
He glanced towards the one small bag she’d brought aboard the flight from Paris. Her lack of luggage was a clear indication that she expected to be taken on some serious shopping trips—which meant that she was going to be severely disappointed. They weren’t going anywhere, and she would be forced to wear whatever items she’d brought with her. And wear them again. And again. And launder them herself.
Angelos smiled as he thought about the role that she was going to be expected to play as his prospective wife.
Knowing his father, the first thing he’d want to see would be her prowess in the kitchen.
Can she cook, Angelos?
Undoubtedly not. In fact, he was willing to bet she’d never been near a hot stove in her life, let alone slaved over one. Why would she, when the men she’d married had given her a lifestyle beyond her wildest dreams?
If she’d had any sense she would have taken the money from her last divorce and settled in the Caribbean, instead of moving on to her next victim.
As they drew closer to the island Angelos slowed the boat and pulled in alongside the jetty. He cut the engine, and the air was filled with the insistent rasp of cicadas.
Above them he glimpsed the whitewashed walls of the villa. Hot pink bougainvillaea tumbled joyfully over the walls, basking in the hot Greek sunshine, and the path that led up from the jetty was thickly bordered with blue agapanthus.
‘Home.’
It was only when she looked at him that he realised he’d spoken the word aloud.
‘Is it home? I thought you lived in Athens?’
‘My business requires that I travel a lot and I have a home in Athens because my headquarters is based there. But I have offices in almost all the major cities in the world. It’s a necessity.’
‘You don’t like the city?’
‘Sometimes. But the villa feels more like home than any other property I own. It is the place we spend time as a family.’ He didn’t know which surprised him more. His own confession or her nod of immediate understanding.
‘I can see why you love it. It’s beautiful.’
It seemed such an unlikely response from a woman with a love of the bright lights that he felt a flicker of irritation and suddenly regretted that circumstances had forced him to bring her with him. The island was usually a place to escape from the stresses and demands of his life. This time he’d been forced to bring the stress along with him.
He was about to make a sharp comment when he caught sight of the expression on her face. Her eyes sparkled with excitement and she was staring at the white-pebbled beach as though she couldn’t wait to slip her shoes off and take a walk.
Surprised by her reaction, Angelos frowned. Pretty though it was, the island was a long way from the mainland. There were no trendy cafes, no boutique hotels or designer shops. No men and no nightclubs. In fact, nothing to entertain a woman like Isabelle. Just beaches, olives groves and dusty tracks winding their way over the headland.
He’d expected to see boredom or impatience on her face. Certainly not excitement. Suddenly she seemed vivid and alive and his eyes were drawn to the thrust of her breasts under the thin white top. Her body was lush and feminine, her mouth full and tempting, and her eyes were shining with almost child-like enthusiasm.
Angelos tightened his jaw, not knowing whether to be amused or irritated by the powerful and predictable response of his body.
Was he really that shallow?
Obviously the answer to that question was yes.
With a cynical laugh at his own expense, he turned away and secured the boat to the jetty with the rope.
It was ironic, he reflected, that the woman he’d finally brought home to this island was probably the last person on earth he’d contemplate marrying.
But, just as long as he kept that fact from his father, there shouldn’t be a problem.
Feeling the heat of the sun on the back of her neck, Chantal followed Angelos up the path that led from the jetty to the villa. The garden seemed to tumble down the hillside, a joyful haven so breathtakingly beautiful that she paused for a moment just to enjoy the scent and colour. Orange and magnolia trees bordered the path, and the sea sparkled turquoise in the dazzling sunlight.
Aware that Angelos was glaring at her impatiently, she hurried towards him, followed him round a bend in the path and had her first proper view of the villa.
It had obviously been built to give the owners the benefit of what must surely be the best views in Greece, and her first impression left her speechless with wonder.
Between the villa and the sea lay a series of terraces, shaded by vines and linked by narrow paths. And on the same level as the villa itself was a large curved pool which followed the shape of the hillside and which appeared to merge with the ocean beyond.
Despite its obvious size, the villa itself was a vision of Mediterranean charm. Bougainvillaea tumbled from balconies, down over whitewashed walls to the scented gardens below. On the ground floor an arched entrance offered a tantalising view of a shaded stone courtyard with a central fountain. Doors opened from the main living area to the pool and inside the spacious room she could see rich-coloured textiles set against cool white walls.
‘Kalispera!’ A nurse appeared, wearing a crisp white uniform and a stern expression on her face.
Angelos walked towards her. ‘How is my father today?’
‘Determined to do himself as much damage as possible!’ The nurse set her mouth in a disapproving line, and Angelos lifted an eyebrow.
‘His tests are not good?’
‘His tests are excellent, but he refuses to make any changes to his lifestyle.’ Clearly exasperated with her patient, the nurse glanced at Chantal. ‘Perhaps you will be able to influence him. He’s been very excited about your arrival. Hopefully now you are here he will join you for dinner. I couldn’t persuade him to eat lunch.’
Angelos frowned. ‘He isn’t eating?’
‘He doesn’t have much of an appetite.’ Her tone sharp, the nurse flipped through her notebook, checking her facts. ‘Black coffee for breakfast, nothing for lunch, and now he’s asking for a drink.’
‘Presumably not water?’ Angelos said wearily. ‘All right. I’ll talk to him.’
‘I’d appreciate that.’ The nurse gave a brief nod and slipped the book back into her pocket. ‘I’ll go and talk to the kitchen about his diet. See if there’s anything we can make that might tempt him.’
Angelos took Chantal’s arm and steered her towards the pool. It was set high enough up to give a breathtaking view of the bay and several small islands in the distance, and for a moment she just stood there, wondering if there was a place more peaceful or beautiful anywhere on earth. She’d travelled, and seen many sights, but there was something about this place that made her catch her breath.
‘It’s stunning.’
Angelos turned towards her and smiled and that smile was so intimate and sexy that her stomach flipped. For a moment she was blinded. The world around her shrank and there was nothing but him. No view, no villa, no other person. She just gazed back at him, the words in her mouth melting away unspoken.
She was just reminding herself of the need to breathe when he leaned towards her, a smile in his eyes as his lips brushed against her cheek.
‘Don’t get too comfortable. I’m watching you,’ he murmured softly in her ear, and she realised then that the smile and the sudden softening in his eyes had been for the benefit of his father, who was beaming with delight as he watched them.
And she took a step backwards, confused and disorientated because for one deeply humiliating moment she’d actually believed that the smile was for her.
And then she remembered. Men like him didn’t smile at women like her.
Reminding herself of the dangers of slipping into fantasy land, she stepped away from him and walked to his father, automatically gravitating towards a friendly face. ‘It’s good to see you again, Mr Zouvelekis.’
‘Call me Costas. After all, we’re virtually family.’ The older man struggled to his feet. Then he took her hands and squeezed, and the pressure of his fingers and the warmth in his eyes made the breath catch in her throat.
To be shown affection was such a rare and surprising gift that she clung to his fingers, unwilling to end a contact that felt so good.
Virtually family.
Never in her most extravagant fantasies would she have allowed herself to imagine a father as amazing as him. ‘How are you?’ Looking at him now, she could see that he’d lost weight and that his face had a greyish tinge.
‘Better now I have something beautiful to look at. The nurses Angelos found—’ He peered around him to check that the nurse was out of earshot and then pulled a face. ‘He might as well have employed men.’
‘Believe me, I tried,’ Angelos said sternly. ‘You’re not supposed to be looking at the nurses.’
‘I’m not.’ Costas sounded gloomy. ‘What is there to look at? That woman has the appeal of a wrestler. If she gets bored with nursing she could be a prison governor. Why did you employ her?’
‘I employed her because her credentials are excellent. She tells me you haven’t been eating.’
‘She is a spy,’ Costas grumbled, still holding Chantal’s hands. ‘Yesterday I tipped my medicine into a plant, and she immediately delivered another dose. Obviously she was watching from the bushes.’
Chantal chuckled. ‘So that’s why the garden is looking so good.’
Costas laughed too. Only Angleos wasn’t amused.
‘I’m paying her to make sure you make a full recovery.’
‘If life is going to be this tedious I’m not sure that I want to. Still—’ Costas lifted both Chantal’s hands to his lips and kissed them gallantly. ‘You’re here now, and that changes everything.’
‘Take your hands off my woman,’ Angelos drawled, his expression faintly exasperated as he firmly removed Chantal’s hands from his father’s and enclosed them in a cool, hard grip. ‘It isn’t good for your blood pressure.’
‘You have nothing to fear from me, Angelos.’ His father looked suddenly tired, but the smile lingered in his eyes. ‘The way she was looking at you a moment ago—no one else existed. That is how love should be. A woman in love can be in a crowd of handsome men, but she sees only one of them.’
Realising that it was true, Chantal felt suddenly vulnerable. She’d looked at Angelos. And he’d looked at her. The difference was that Angelos had been acting a part, whereas her reaction had been genuine. For a moment she’d forgotten that none of this was real. Staring into his eyes, she’d been taken straight back to those endless minutes on the dance floor, where their connection had been disturbingly intense and entirely genuine. The attraction between them had been primal and instinctive, undiluted by the complications of identity.
Costas sank into the nearest chair, as if standing was just too much. ‘We haven’t even been officially introduced.’
‘I’m Chantal,’ she said, and then caught the sardonic lift of Angelos’s brows and knew instantly what he was thinking. That she was embarrassed to admit her true identity.
And the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. She’d spent her life trying to be someone different, but now that she’d been offered a genuine alias she didn’t want to take it.
She didn’t want to be a woman who took money from a man.
It wasn’t that she aspired to be perfect. Far from it. But that was the one sin she wasn’t prepared to commit.
Maybe if Isabelle had been someone different she would have sat comfortably in her shoes for a few days, but as it was she was beginning to wonder whether her failure to confess her identity had been a mistake.
Costas sat for a moment, his weathered hand clutching the edge of the table.
Angelos stepped closer, a frown in his eyes. ‘Are you unwell?’ There was no missing the sharp anxiety in his voice, and Chantal found herself experiencing the same anxiety.
Costas Zouvelekis looked drained and exhausted, as if almost all of the life had been drained from him. She remembered him as an energetic, good-humoured man, and was shocked that his illness could have wrought such changes in such a short time.
‘I’m fine. Don’t fuss.’ He glared at Angelos, and there was pride in his eyes. Then he said something in Greek, and Chantal knew from the sudden tension in Angelos’s powerful frame that Costas had been talking about her.
‘I’m sure you have family matters you want to discuss, so I’ll just—’
‘You are family.’ Costas gestured to the chair opposite. ‘Sit down, and Maria will fetch you a drink to celebrate the occasion. The day my son finally brings a girl to his real home. Until I saw you in the boat I still couldn’t believe it would happen. You have made me a very, very happy man.’
The nurse stepped out onto the terrace. ‘You should take a nap before dinner, Mr Zouvelekis.’
Costas scowled. ‘Nap? What am I? A baby?’ But he rose to his feet swiftly, as if relieved that someone had suggested it. His gaze softened as he looked at Chantal. ‘I would feel guilty leaving you when you’ve only just arrived, but I’m sure Angelos will find a way of entertaining you in the meantime.’ His saucy wink implied that he knew exactly what form that entertainment was likely to take, but Angelos simply smiled as he strolled forward and helped his father to his feet.
Chantal watched the two of them, envy closing her throat. So it hadn’t been her imagination. Angelos was capable of gentleness. It was there in his eyes when he talked to his father, and it stayed there until his father was safely in the villa and out of sight.
Only then did he turn to her, and the sudden chill in his eyes was a blunt reminder that she was only here because of his love for her father.
‘Chantal?’ His voice heavy with emphasis, Angelos sat back in his chair and contemplated her with ill-concealed mockery in his eyes. ‘Changing the name doesn’t change the person, agape mou. Remember that.’
‘Chantal is my name.’
He smiled and reached for the jug of iced fruit juice that Maria had placed on the table in front of them. ‘I should imagine that it’s useful to have more than one name.’
His contempt for her stung, and she rose to her feet. ‘I think I’ll go and shower and change.’
‘Sit down.’ His voice was so soft that it barely reached her ears, but there was no missing the authority in his tone and she sat in automatic response.
Only afterwards did she wonder why she’d responded without question.
‘Do you expect everyone to obey you?’
