A Di Sione For The Greek's Pleasure

It had been utterly exhausting. And yet... Talia rose from the chair and went to the huge window that overlooked the city. In the distance she could see the crumbling ruins of the ancient Acropolis underneath a hard blue sky, and the sight was powerful enough to make her feel a flicker of awe, a lick of excitement. For a second she could remember how it had felt to be eighteen years old and full of hope and vigour, the whole world stretched out in front of her, shimmering with promise, everything an enticing adventure...

‘Miss Di Sione?’

Talia whirled around, flushing guiltily at the look of disapproval on Angelos Mena’s face. Should she not have looked out the window? Goodness but the man was tightly wired.

‘This is Sofia.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Talia stepped towards the slight girl who blinked owlishly from behind her glasses. Her dark, curly hair framed a lovely, heart-shaped face; most of her right cheek was covered in the puckered red flesh of a scar. While waiting outside Talia had noticed how the girl would let her hair fall in front of her face to hide it, and her heart had twisted with sympathy. She knew what it was like to have scars. It just happened that hers were invisible.

‘Hello, Sofia,’ she said now, smiling, and just as before the girl bent her head forward so her hair slid in front of her face. Angelos frowned.

No, actually, he glowered. Talia quelled at the scowl on his face, and she could only wonder what his daughter felt. She’d watched Sofia covertly as she’d waited to see Angelos; she’d seen how the girl’s gaze followed each woman into the office, and then how her shoulders had slumped when each woman had come out again, usually looking annoyed or embarrassed or both. A couple of times Sofia had been ushered in, and Talia had watched how her slight body had trembled and she’d gripped her hands together, her knuckles showing bony and white, as she’d stepped into that inner sanctum.

After about an hour of waiting, Talia had tried to befriend her. She’d shown her the pad of paper and pack of coloured pencils she always kept in her bag, and for fun she’d done a quick sketch of one of the women who had been waiting, exaggerating her face so she was a caricature, but still recognisable. When Sofia had recognised the woman with her beaky nose and protuberant eyes, hands like claws planted on bony hips, she’d let out a little giggle, and then clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and panicked.

Talia had grinned at her, reassuring and conspiratorial, and slowly Sofia had relaxed, dropping her hand and then pushing the pad of paper towards Talia, silently inviting her to draw another sketch. And so she had.

They’d whiled away a pleasant hour with Talia doing sketches of as many of the women as she could remember before she’d handed the pencils to Sofia and encouraged her to draw something.

Sofia had sketched a sunset, a stretch of golden sand and a wash of blue water.

‘Lovely,’ Talia had murmured.

‘Spiti,’ she’d said, and when Talia had looked blank, she’d translated hesitantly, ‘Home.’

‘Sofia?’ Angelos said now, his tone sharpening. He rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, gentle yet heavy, and spoke in Greek to her.

Sofia looked up, smiling shyly. ‘Yassou.’

Angelos spoke again in Greek and then glanced pointedly at Talia. ‘I am telling my daughter that you do not know Greek.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Talia replied lightly. ‘She already knows. We’ve been miming for most of the afternoon, but we’ve managed to get along. And Sofia knows more English than you think, Mr Mena.’

‘Kyrie Mena,’ he corrected, and she nodded, only just keeping from rolling her eyes.

‘Kyrie,’ she agreed, and she didn’t need Angelos Mena’s wince to know she’d butchered the pronunciation.

Angelos spoke again in Greek to Sofia, and his daughter said something back in reply. Although Talia didn’t know what either of them was saying, she could feel both Angelos’s disapproval and Sofia’s anxiety. She stood there, trying to smile even as exhaustion crashed over her again.

What was she doing here, really? She’d come all this way to find her grandfather’s precious book, not interview for a nanny position. If she had any sense she’d stop this farce before it went any further, and explain to Angelos Mena the real reason why she’d come.

And then, no doubt, have him boot her out the door, and any chance to recover Giovanni’s book would be gone for ever.

Angelos was talking to Sofia again in Greek and Talia could feel her vision blur as the headache that had been skirting the fringes of her mind threatened to take over. The room felt hot, the air stale, and her legs were starting to tremble again.

‘Do you mind...’ she murmured, and sank into the chair, dropping her head into her hands as she took several deep breaths.

Angelos broke off his conversation with his daughter to enquire sharply, ‘Miss Di Sione? Are you all right?’

Talia took another deep breath as her vision started to swim.

‘Miss Di Sione?’

‘Talia,’ she corrected him. ‘And no, actually, I think I’m going to faint.’

CHAPTER TWO

ANGELOS SWORE UNDER his breath as the woman in front of him went limp, her head drooping down between her knees.

He shouted for Eleni and then went over to Talia, crouching down by her chair as he put an arm around her shoulders and attempted to prop her up.

‘Sorry,’ she managed as her head lolled against his arm. She felt like a rag doll in his arms, boneless and light. Her hair brushed his cheek.

‘Papa, is she going to be all right?’ Sofia asked anxiously, and Angelos nearly swore again. The last thing his daughter needed was to worry about some stranger.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, more tersely than he intended. ‘She’s just come over faint for a moment.’

His assistant came hurrying into the room, and Angelos barked out an order for a glass of water. ‘Make it juice,’ he snapped as Eleni headed out to the reception area. ‘Her blood sugar might be low.’

He glanced back at Talia, whose eyes were closed, her once rosy face now pale and bloodless. Her golden lashes fanned her cheeks and her lips parted slightly on a shaky breath. Then her eyes fluttered open and her gaze clashed with Angelos’s. For a second he felt jarred, as if he’d missed the last step on a staircase. He was suddenly conscious of his arm around her shoulders, her breasts pressed against his chest. Then she struggled to sit upright and he let his arm fall away.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t normally do that.’

‘Don’t you?’ he bit out, and she glanced at him uncertainly.

‘No...’

‘The thing is,’ Angelos said, his voice still hard, ‘I don’t know the first thing about you, Miss Di Sione. And yet you want me to entrust my daughter into your care.’

She gazed at him for a moment, the hazel of her eyes so clear he felt a sudden flicker of shame at his curt tone and implied accusation. Then she looked away from him, to Sofia.

‘I’m all right, Sofia,’ she said softly, and Angelos saw his daughter’s expression brighten as she gave Talia a trembling smile.

She was the first woman today, Angelos acknowledged, who had actually cared what his daughter was feeling. Had concerned herself with Sofia at all. And he realised that from the moment Sofia had entered his office, Talia had not made anything of his daughter’s scarred face. She hadn’t overcompensated either way; she’d simply acted as if it hadn’t mattered at all. The realisation made him feel both glad and completely wrong-footed, because it was still obvious to him that Talia Di Sione was utterly unsuitable to be a nanny. No qualifications, no references...he didn’t even know how she’d heard of the job or why she’d shown up for it.

And yet he felt on a gut level that she was the right choice, the only choice. Because she cared about his daughter.

Eleni came in with a crystal glass of apple juice on a tray and Talia took it with a murmured thanks. ‘I’m sorry to be a bother,’ she said, glancing at Angelos from under her lashes as she took a sip of juice. ‘I’m fine now, really.’

‘It’s no bother.’ Angelos paused. Talia was clearly the best choice for the position, and yet still he resisted. He liked things to be clear-cut, to make sense. He appreciated quantitative qualifications, experience over instinct. God knows his instincts had been wrong in the past. He trusted facts now, hard and solid and certain. Emotion, instinctual or otherwise, had no place in his life.

And yet... He watched as Talia smiled at Sofia and said something that made his daughter smile shyly back. Sofia caught his frowning gaze and gave him a hesitant smile and a discreet thumbs-up. This was the first woman she’d approved of. Should he trust his daughter’s instinct as well as his own?

His resolve hardened along with the set of his jaw. He had no choice. He needed to hire a nanny today, so he could return to work and Sofia could be cared for. He turned to Talia. ‘Can you be ready to leave in an hour?’

* * *

Talia blinked, her vision starting to swim again as she took in Angelos’s request. ‘Leave...?’ she repeated, and he gave an impatient nod.

‘I’d like to return to Kallos within the hour.’

Knowing she was sounding stupid, Talia couldn’t keep herself from repeating him yet again. ‘Kallos...?’

‘My home,’ Angelos clarified. ‘Did you not read the advertisement I placed, Miss Di Sione?’

‘Spiti,’ Talia said, remembering Sofia’s drawing, and surprise flickered in Angelos’s mahogany eyes.

‘Yes, home.’ He paused, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made goose bumps rise on Talia’s arms. ‘So you do know a little Greek.’

‘Very little.’ Talia dragged a deep breath into her lungs and tried to force her mind to clear. She felt a hot tide of embarrassment wash over her to think how weak and helpless she must have looked to Angelos Mena, practically collapsing in his office. It was just that she hadn’t eaten anything for hours, and the emotional and physical exhaustion of dealing with so many strange things had finally overwhelmed her. But she was better now. She’d make herself be.

She straightened, putting the glass of juice on the desk with a clink. ‘Mr—Kyrie Mena, I’m afraid this has all got a little out of hand...’ She felt another blush rising as Angelos’s eyebrows snapped together in irritated confusion. If she told him the real reason for her being here now, he’d be utterly furious. She might have only met the man a few minutes ago, but she knew him well enough to understand that Angelos Mena would be enraged to learn she actually had no intention or interest in being his daughter’s nanny.

Except...could she really say that? Talia’s gaze slid to Sofia, who was watching her anxiously, her dark hair swinging in front of her face to hide her scarred cheek. Sofia met her gaze and gave a fragile smile.

‘Parakalo,’ she whispered, which Talia knew meant please. ‘Come,’ she added, her voice tentative, the English word sounding hesitant on her lips.

Talia’s heart twisted hard in sympathy, just as it had when she’d first laid eyes on this girl. Sofia wanted her to come, and it was only for six weeks. And surely in six weeks she’d find an opportunity to ask Angelos about the book, even to get him to give her the book. More importantly, she might be able to help Sofia. At least she could offer her friendship.

Why shouldn’t she accept this job?

Because it was strange and unexpected, and she’d have to deal with all sorts of things she’d avoided for the last seven years. Because she was in no position to help anyone, when she hadn’t been able to help herself. When she was already out of her depth, suffering panic attacks, afraid of the future.

And never mind her own deficiencies, by accepting this job she’d be deceiving this family, even if it was out of good intentions. She was pretty sure Angelos Mena would see her actions as questionable, perhaps even reprehensible. She was no nanny.

‘I...’ she began, helplessly, because she had no idea what to do. Sofia was gazing at her with puppy dog eyes and Angelos Mena was clearly seething with impatience. How could she refuse? How could she not?

‘You did come here to apply for the position, didn’t you, Miss Di Sione?’ Angelos demanded. ‘I am now offering you the position. Are you prepared to take it or not?’

Still Talia hesitated, caught by Sofia’s silently imploring look. She turned back to Angelos, whose gaze was narrowed, everything about his powerful form exuding impatience and irritation. ‘Yes,’ she said, the word catching in her throat. She cleared her throat, and then lifted her chin. ‘I am.’

The words seemed to set everything in motion, and the next hour was a blur as Angelos barked out orders to his assistant and Talia was shunted back to the reception area with Sofia. She got out her pad and pencils while people bustled around them, and she and Sofia took turns drawing funny pictures, laughing softly together, until Angelos stood before them, hands on trim hips, his dark and commanding gaze fastened on Talia in a way that made every thought evaporate from her brain.

‘Where are your things, Miss Di Sione?’

‘Um, back at the hotel where I checked in.’

‘And that is?’

‘Near the Acropolis...’

Angelos let out a sigh, no more than a hiss of breath. ‘The name of the hotel, please?’

‘The Adriana,’ Talia recalled, wishing she could act a bit more with it in front of Angelos Mena. She’d dealt with plenty of rich and powerful people through her work as a portrait artist, but no one had reduced her to insensible babbling the way Angelos Mena did with his narrowed gaze and overwhelming presence, not to mention his obvious annoyance. He clearly did not suffer fools gladly, and from the moment she’d entered his impressive office she’d felt like a fool.

‘I’ll arrange for someone to collect your bags,’ Angelos said. ‘In the meantime you can wait here with Sofia.’ He strode away without waiting for her reply, and Talia watched him leave. He had not even looked at his daughter, much less spared her a kind word or a smile.

She glanced at Sofia, wondering how they were going to overcome the language barrier for the next six weeks. ‘Perhaps you should teach me some Greek,’ she suggested, and Sofia’s forehead furrowed. ‘Elinika,’ she tried, fishing for the few phrases of Greek she’d learned on the plane trip over here. She touched her mouth to indicate speaking, and Sofia brightened.

‘Ne, ne.’ She pointed to her chest. ‘Speak Anglika.’

Talia nodded, smiling in understanding. ‘We can teach each other.’

They spent the next hour teaching each other words and phrases in both English and Greek, amidst much laughter when one of them, usually Talia, got it wrong.

‘Gi-neck-a,’ Talia repeated after Sofia. ‘Now what is that?’ Laughing, Sofia pointed to her. ‘Nanny?’ Talia guessed. ‘American? Foreigner?’

‘Woman,’ Angelos said quietly, and everything in Talia jolted as she turned to look at him. He was standing in front of them, gazing at her with an inscrutable expression, which was better than his usual scowl, although it still made Talia feel uncertain. ‘Gyneka,’ he added, making Talia realise she’d butchered the pronunciation once again. ‘Woman.’ For a second, no more, his gaze remained on Talia; she felt as if he’d pinned her there, so she was unable to look away, or even to breathe.

Then he flicked his gaze away, towards his daughter. Talia couldn’t understand the Greek but the quick jerk of his head towards the elevator conveyed his meaning well enough. It was time to go.

She slipped the pad and pencils back into her bag and stood with Sofia. Angelos turned back to her.

‘The helicopter is ready, and your things have been fetched from the hotel.’

‘Helicopter...’ She stared at him in alarm. ‘You didn’t say anything about a helicopter.’

Angelos frowned. ‘How else would we get to Kallos?’

‘By car?’ she guessed hopefully, and Angelos’s nostrils flared.

‘Kallos is an island, Miss Di Sione. We will travel there by helicopter. It should only take an hour.’

An island. She thought of Sofia’s drawing, the blue water, the beach. Of course it was an island.

She realised she must have been gaping at him because Angelos’s lips compressed as he looked at her. ‘Is that a problem?’ he asked, his tone deceptively mild.

‘No, of course not.’ But she was lying, because she could already feel the panic starting its insistent staccato pulse inside her. What on earth was she doing, going goodness knew where with this stranger? In a helicopter?

Her breath hitched and Angelos glanced at her. ‘You aren’t going to faint again?’

‘No,’ Talia said with far more certainty than she felt. In the past twenty-four hours she’d gone about five thousand miles outside her comfort zone. She wasn’t sure she could manage another step.

Then she felt a small, cold hand slide into hers and she looked down to see Sofia smiling at her. ‘Okay?’ she asked, and Talia was touched and humbled by the girl’s obvious concern.

‘Okay,’ she confirmed shakily, and hand in hand they walked towards the lift.

Even with Sofia’s support Talia couldn’t keep the fear from kicking up her heart rate as they took the lift up to the top of the building where a helicopter was waiting on a helipad.

She glanced at Angelos, who was striding towards the machine, the wind from the whirring propellers moulding his shirt and suit jacket close to his body so Talia could see the impressive outline of his well-defined pecs. The helicopter looked small and menacing, its curved windshield looking like the giant eyes of a bug. Talia clutched Sofia’s hand harder.

She really didn’t think she could do this.

Angelos climbed into the helicopter, and then reached down first for Sofia’s hand. Talia watched as the little girl clambered easily inside and then sat down. Angelos turned back to her, the wind whipping about him, his hand outstretched. Talia simply stared.

‘Miss Di Sione,’ he shouted over the noise of the propeller blades. ‘Take my hand.’

Talia’s heart was pounding painfully, and her palms were icy and damp with sweat. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t deal with confined spaces, ones where it was impossible to get out. A closed door, a dark room, a locked car...she avoided them all. And the passenger jet she’d been on a few hours ago had been hard enough, but a helicopter...

And then suddenly she thought of Giovanni smiling at her as he’d given her his instructions. ‘I know you will try your hardest. And you will succeed.’

Taking a deep breath, she reached for Angelos’s hand and then she let him pull her up into the helicopter. She practically collapsed into her seat, her legs rubbery and her heart thudding sickly. She had just managed to jam her seat belt together when the helicopter lifted off the building and began its ascent into a cloudless blue sky, heading for the Aegean Sea.

CHAPTER THREE

ANGELOS STUDIED HIS new nanny, noting dispassionately how pale she’d gone, her eyes closed as she leaned back against the seat and took several deep, even breaths. What on earth was the woman’s problem?

‘Do you suffer from travel sickness?’ he asked abruptly, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the helicopter, and her eyes flew open.

‘No.’

‘Then why do you look so terrible?’

‘You’re quite the flatterer, aren’t you,’ she muttered, and Angelos stared at her, nonplussed.

‘You look as if you are about to be sick.’

‘You’d better hope I’m not,’ Talia answered, and he grimaced in distaste.

‘Indeed, I do. It would make for a most unpleasant journey.’

‘That it would.’ Talia let out a shuddering breath as she shifted in her seat. ‘And it’s already pretty awful.’

‘You do not like helicopters.’

‘No.’ She’d closed her eyes again, her face scrunched up, and Angelos inspected her for another moment. Her hair was going curly in the heat and he could see a sprinkling of golden freckles across her nose. He wondered how old she was, and realised afresh how little he knew about her besides her name. What on earth had possessed him to hire her?

Talia opened her eyes and turned to Sofia. ‘You don’t mind helicopters,’ she remarked, and with a bit of playacting, miming the propeller blades and making a face, she communicated her meaning.

Sofia grinned. ‘Home,’ she said in English. ‘I like home.’

‘I like home too,’ Talia said with a sigh. ‘But I’m sure I’ll like yours as well.’ Sofia wrinkled her nose, not understanding, and Talia leaned over and patted her hand before she sank back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Angelos continued to study her for a moment, wondering how she’d ended up in his office. How had she even heard of the advertisement, and why had she come without a CV? Questions, he decided, he would not ask her in the noisy confines of the helicopter, with Sofia trying to catch every word. He would have time to discover just who his new nanny was later, and make sure she was an appropriate companion for his daughter.

His gaze moved to Sofia; she was leaning towards the window, watching the sea slide by. She never liked leaving the safety of Kallos, and she seemed to shrink even more into herself whenever he took her to Athens. He knew people stared at her scarred face, and the attention made Sofia embarrassed and exceedingly shy. He was grateful that Talia Di Sione, for all her idiosyncrasies, had not once made Sofia feel ashamed of her scar.

‘Look, Papa,’ Sofia called in Greek, and he leaned forward to see a sleek white sailboat cutting through the blue-green waters.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, and then glanced back at Talia. She still had her eyes closed. Impulsively he reached over and touched her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she jerked upright as if he’d branded her with a hot poker.

‘Relax,’ he said. ‘I just thought you might appreciate the view.’

‘I’d rather just get onto land,’ Talia muttered, but she obligingly looked out the window of the helicopter, and Angelos watched as her face softened into a smile as she took in the stunning vista of sea and sky.

‘I always wanted to see the Greek islands,’ she said.

‘You have not been here before?’

‘No, this was my first time in Athens.’

‘How long had you been in the city?’

She shot him a wry look. ‘About six hours.’

‘Six hours?’ Angelos frowned. ‘Do you mean you arrived in Athens today?’ She nodded. ‘But what on earth made you apply for the job, having just arrived?’

She looked away, seeming uneasy. Suspicion hardened inside him. What was going on with this woman? ‘It seemed like a good idea,’ she said at last.

Angelos didn’t answer. He could see Sofia looking at them both and he had no intention of pursuing an uncomfortable line of enquiry with Talia Di Sione when his daughter was present. But he would get to the bottom of why she was here.

Fifteen minutes later the helicopter began to make its descent to Kallos. As soon as they’d landed Angelos clambered out of the helicopter, and then reached back a hand for Sofia and then Talia.

He was conscious of how small and slender her hand felt in his as she stepped down onto the rocky earth, shading her eyes with her other hand as she gazed round the island.

‘Is this a private island?’ she asked.

‘Yes, it is my home. But you will have everything you need. The villa is well supplied by nearby Naxos.’

She nodded slowly, letting out a breath she must have been holding for a while. ‘Okay,’ she said, and she sounded as if she were talking to herself. ‘Okay.’

Angelos led the way from the helipad to the villa. The salt-tinged sea breeze buffeted him and the sun was hot above and for a moment he breathed in the air and let himself relax. Let himself believe that he had things under control, that Sofia was safe.

That he’d done the best he could, even when he hadn’t before.