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He curled his long frame onto the stool alongside her, the outside of his leg brushing hers, a kiss of sudden heat that made her jump. She pulled her legs away, took a calming breath.
‘You like your coffee strong.’
It wasn’t a question.
She nodded without looking up, her fingers cradling the tiny cup. ‘It helps me think.’
‘Thinking is good,’ he said, taking a sip of his own coffee before adding, ‘But you also need to find something that makes you smile.’
She looked across at him quizzically. ‘Excuse me, but do I know you?’
‘Do I need to know you to know you look sad? Pensive? Like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders?’
She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t believe anyone was talking to her this way, let alone a stranger.
‘No,’ he said into the silence between them, swirling his own coffee in his big hand. Long tapered fingers, she noticed, dusted with tiny dark hairs and finished with neatly trimmed nails. ‘We’ve never met,’ he said, without taking his dark eyes from hers. ‘There is no way I would have forgotten, if we had.’
His eyes and words combined so it felt like a velvet glove stroking its way down her spine, and it was so long since she’d felt anything close to a spark of attraction, an eternity it seemed, that she could almost forgive him for initiating a conversation no stranger had a right to.
And for all she knew there should be no reason to stay and talk, her coffee finished, for some reason she was tempted to linger, and experience these foreign feelings just that bit longer.
‘My name is Alexios,’ he offered, and she knew he was in no rush to go anywhere in a hurry either.
‘Athena,’ she said.
‘Ah. Goddess of wisdom and craft.’
She smiled. ‘Not to mention goddess of war.’
He conceded her point with a tilt of his head, his dark hair glossy under the sun’s light. ‘True enough, yet possessing a calm temperament and moving slowly to anger, and then only to fight for just causes.’
‘You know your ancient Greek mythology,’ she said, impressed.
He shrugged. ‘I am Greek,’ he said, confirming what she’d suspected, even though they’d been speaking in English. ‘It would be ignorant of me to be unaware of my heritage.’
‘And so, Alexios—’ She thought for a moment. ‘That would make you a defender of mankind, am I right?’
He smiled, and again she was taken aback by how good-looking he was when he smiled, his lips framed by his shadowed face, darker in the cleft of his jaw, while the unbuttoned neck of his shirt shifted softly in the breeze, drawing her eyes further south, the stark white linen contrasting with the slice of olive skin of his throat and chest.
‘The goddess of war and the defender of mankind,’ he said. ‘The world would be a safer place in our joint hands, don’t you think?’
And suddenly she realised she’d been staring at him and she looked hastily away, knowing he was flirting with her, and finding herself enjoying it, even if she wasn’t sure how to respond. She didn’t do flirting. It felt like for ever since she’d felt carefree enough and interested enough to make a first move, let alone a second. ‘I don’t know about that.’
A couple squeezed past then, an American and his wife, fresh from a cruise ship and full of excited chatter at the view, and she took advantage of the distraction to shift her chair and turn her attention out over the caldera again, feigning interest in the sideways sway of the cruise ships at anchor, and the steady movement of tenders to and fro. She was nothing more than a temporary diversion in her visitor’s day. He’d soon finish his coffee and move on.
‘I have a problem,’ he said, refusing to cooperate with her expectations. ‘Maybe the woman named for the goddess of wisdom could help me.’
She looked back at him, setting her eyes to narrow, suddenly suspicious. ‘I don’t see how.’
‘You see, soon the sun will set on the most romantic island in the world, and I am eating alone.’
‘And what does that have to do with me?’
‘You could help me, very much, if you would agree to dine with me.’
She sighed, taking one last look over the sparkling waters of the caldera, feeling disappointed now. Conversation with a stranger who made her skin tingle over a shared table was one thing, dinner was another. She’d heard stories about the men who preyed on lonely women promising them all kinds of romance, and attraction was just the kind of thing that would tempt a woman to let down her guard.
And after this morning’s stunning revelations, she had more reason than ever to be wary. He couldn’t know. Nobody outside that office could possibly know, but she’d been warned to be careful, given her inheritance, and that just meant being more careful than ever.
‘I’m sorry. I’m not looking for a gigolo. Maybe you should advertise your...’ she allowed her eyes to roam purposefully over the olive-skinned vee of his chest ‘...problem, somewhere else.’
He leaned back in his chair and laughed, his shirt pulled taut over a sculpted chest so she could see the dark circles and the hard nubs of his nipples, and she could almost smell the testosterone rolling off him in waves. ‘Nobody has ever called me a gigolo before.’
She forced her eyes back to his. He was attractive. Sexy. What of it? ‘No? You don’t make a habit of picking up sad-and-lonely-looking women in bars here on Santorini?’
‘Only the very beautiful ones.’
It was her turn to laugh. She couldn’t help it. It was a ridiculous conversation and the man was outrageous, but at the same time he was like a breath of fresh air in her out-of-kilter world. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed.
He was smiling now himself. ‘You see? You should laugh more. You are even more beautiful when you laugh.’
She could say the same about him. His smile lines complemented without weakening the hard angles of his jaw, the harsh line of his mouth had softened, his lips turned up. Warmer.
And his eyes—his eyes looked at her as if he knew her. It was disconcerting. She blinked that thought away. Nobody knew who she was. Nobody knew she was here. She’d left the lawyer’s offices and headed straight to her apartment to pack a carry bag, booking a flight in the taxi on the way to the airport.
‘Well?’ he said. ‘What’s it to be? Dinner with me or a night alone and morose and a lifetime spent regretting it?’
‘You’re very sure of yourself.’
‘I’m very sure of the fact I want to have dinner with you. I want to get to know you better.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I have a feeling I’m going to like what I discover. Very much.’
She shook her head. It was ridiculous to feel half tempted. She didn’t do blind dates. She didn’t let herself get picked up in cafés. She didn’t let herself get picked up, period. And that little voice in her head asking her why not just this one time could just get back in its box and shut up, especially given the lawyers’ warnings.
Except the voice in her head was conspiring with Alexios’s pleading dark chocolate eyes to resist arrest. Why shouldn’t she have dinner with this man? it argued. What was wrong with feeling attracted to him and actually acting on it? Nobody knew who she was, and even if people had seen photos of her in the press, she was no household name. People might think she looked familiar, but she hadn’t been interesting or scandalous enough to become common paparazzi fodder—not for a long time.
After the undisciplined years of her late teens, she’d made sure of that. She’d been cautious. Responsible. Determined to keep out of the public eye as much as possible. Which meant not taking unnecessary risks, however good-looking those risks might be.
‘No,’ she said finally, common sense winning over recklessness, not letting him argue further when he raised one hand as if to protest. ‘I’m afraid not. Thanks for the conversation. It’s been...’
‘Tempting?’
‘Interesting.’ Although she knew his word was far closer to the truth.
Someone brushed quickly behind her before moving away—a waiter gathering cups and plates, she presumed—so she had to wait a few moments until she could push her chair back. ‘It’s been lovely chatting. Have a pleasant evening.’ And then she reached beside her to where she’d left her bags. Except there was only one there. She blinked, checking on the floor under and around the chair.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘My handbag,’ she said. ‘It’s gone.’ She scanned the café, saw a man scooting between the tables towards the exit, the white strap of her shoulder bag trailing under the crook of his arm, and felt the sickening realisation that it hadn’t been a waiter or even a customer brushing past behind her, but a thief. He glimpsed back over his shoulder as if checking he’d made a clean getaway, guilt written all over his profile, and she was on her feet, pointing. ‘Stop!’ she cried, before appealing to the startled restaurant patrons, ‘That man’s stolen my bag. Someone stop him!’
‘Wait here,’ said Alexios, with a comforting hand to her shoulder and already off in pursuit, heads of patrons turning as he cut a swathe through the tables.
The waiter stood back for Alexios before he wove his way across to her, full of apologies and consolation. ‘Let me get you another coffee,’ he offered.
‘Not coffee,’ she said, not needing it. Her heart was already beating wildly in her chest. It needed no more stimulation. Her passport and her purse were in that bag. The thief had a head start on Alexios. If he disappeared amidst the alleyways of Thera and if she lost it...
The waiter nodded, only to return with sparkling water instead, and a tiny ouzo, ‘To calm your nerves’, while an American woman at the next table leaned over to pat her on the arm, tut-tutting about thieves who preyed on tourists, and hoping that Athena’s husband would get her handbag back.
She didn’t have the heart to tell the woman the truth, that they had never met before today. Because the second Alexios had disappeared, another unpalatable possibility had already wiggled its way into her consciousness, that her would-be rescuer and thief had been working together, one to distract her with compliments and meaningless conversation, while the other worked out the best time to strike. She’d assumed he was some kind of gigolo when all the time he was more likely some kind of common thief.
A devastatingly handsome, charming thief.
More fool her.
The seconds ticked by, feeling like minutes, all the smooth-talking compliments he’d given coming back to haunt her, mocking her. He’d called her beautiful and she’d been charmed stupid because of it. And suddenly she couldn’t sit there any more. Why was she waiting for a stranger to return with her purse? She should be going to the police.
The waiter waved aside the bill when she promised to return, when there was a commotion at the door, followed by applause and cheers, and there, standing in the doorway, was Alexios, breathing hard and holding her bag.
Relief surged like a wave over her. Never had she seen a more welcome sight. ‘You caught him?’
‘I did,’ he said, handing her the bag. ‘The boy won’t be bothering anyone around here again.’
More cheers rose from the patrons and Alexios was hailed a hero while Athena opened her bag to check her passport and purse were still there. ‘I was just about to go to the police. Should we report it anyway, in case he tries again?’
‘He didn’t have time to open it, let alone steal anything,’ Alexios assured her. ‘And after the talking-to I gave him, I’m sure he won’t be trying that again any time soon.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, peeling off some bills to pay for their coffees. ‘My passport and my credit cards are in here. I don’t know how to repay you.’
He smiled. ‘That’s hardly necessary. Though, if you insist, my invitation still stands to come to dine with me, if you care to change your mind?’
Her eyelids closed on a slow blink. The man had just rescued her handbag and she felt a flush of guilt for thinking Alexios might be working alongside the thief. And after he had proven himself trustworthy by catching up with the thief who had stolen her bag, it would be churlish to refuse dinner with him now, surely?
Besides, just for once it was nice to be able to give into temptation and not feel guilty about it. What possible harm could it do?
Her smile told him all he needed to know. He was already smiling himself before she uttered the words, ‘It would be my pleasure. Of course I’ll have dinner with you.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u06524d8c-cfa7-556d-9d32-1db5f884ac75)
HE HAD HER.
He’d never doubted it would work, of course. He’d expected her to refuse his advances, but he’d been prepared for that. What better way to secure her agreement than to make her believe she owed him? It had all gone off with domino simplicity, and now the blood in his veins pumped with new purpose, his plan unfolding as he led her through the winding paths and towards the table for two he’d prearranged that would give the best view of the sunset.
‘Santorini is my favourite Greek island,’ he said, as they strolled together through the labyrinthine paths. There was no need to rush. Sunset was still some time away, despite the jockeying already going on for positions. ‘Perhaps my favourite place in the world.’
‘Mine too,’ she said.
‘Is that so? Then we have something in common. This is a good place to start, don’t you think?’
She smiled in a way that told him she was amused rather than impressed. ‘I’m sure it’s a favourite for many people in the world.’
‘True,’ he conceded, knowing he still had work to do. She’d agreed to dinner but she was still wavering, he could see, still cautious. But she’d come around. It wasn’t as if it were a chore to charm her. He’d been speaking the truth to her over coffee. When she smiled, her face came alight, her surprisingly blue eyes dancing, and the most surprising discovery of all—dimples in her cheeks either side of her lush mouth, that turned classically beautiful into bewitching.
And then there was the way she moved. Wearing a cute nineteen-fifties-inspired sundress, with wide shoulders and full skirt all cinched in at the waist to accentuate the slim form that lay beneath, she moved with model grace, the sway of her hips sending the skirt of her dress in a seductive motion that had him already itching to peel it off.
No, it would be no hardship bedding her. No hardship at all. And before she knew it, she’d be so busy luxuriating in the glow of the loved, he’d relieve her of her fortune without her even noticing.
And by the time she did, revenge would be his.
It was perfect.
The sun was slipping lower in the sky, couples and groups of tourists already staking their claim for what they thought the best vantage point from which to witness the sun dipping into the sea in all its molten glory.
He made small talk as they wended their way through the town, keeping it light, making way when another train of tired donkeys lumbered home past them, their brightly coloured tassels swaying on their foreheads.
‘Here we are,’ he said, stopping at a locked gate on the caldera side of the path. He punched in a number and pushed it open, making way for her.
He saw the surprise on her face when she registered that they were outside a palace, a remnant of the Venetian occupation of Santorini in centuries long past. ‘I thought we were going to a restaurant. But this...’
‘Is a very private restaurant.’
She turned to him, her blue eyes confused. ‘But this is a home. A palace.’
‘With the best views in Thera. I’m staying here.’
‘Staying here? Like a guest?’
He answered with a welcoming sweep of his arm. ‘Come inside, I’ll show you the view from the terrace.’
She stayed exactly where she was, half inside the gate and half outside, her head tilted to the side. ‘Who are you?’
‘I told you. My name is Alexios. Alexios Kyriakos.’ He looked at the still-open gate behind her. ‘The gate isn’t locked from the inside, but I can always leave the gate open, if you prefer, if you think you might need to escape.’ He paused for one heavily weighted second. ‘If you don’t trust me, that is.’
He swore she almost blushed at his mention of trust. Of course, she trusted him now. She shook her head, looking contrite, pushing the loose tendrils of her hair back behind her ears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge today, especially after what happened at the café. There’s no need to leave it open, of course.’ And she moved out of the way so he could shut the gate.
He didn’t show her inside. Instead he ushered her along a path that wove around the side of the building that opened onto an expansive terrace with a breathtaking view of the islands that made up the broken circle of the caldera, formed in the massive eruption of the volcano beneath thousands of years before. Below them, the almost sheer wall of layered volcanic residue fell away so it felt as if they were suspended over the very edge of the crater. And there, in the gap between the islands, hovered the setting sun, dipping inexorably on its journey towards the sea.
She leaned her hands down on the balustrade, turning her face into the breeze that rushed up the sides of the cliffs, and breathing in the fresh salt air. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He hung back, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t crowd her. He didn’t hover by her side. He wanted her to feel secure. Safe. It was his pleasure now to watch her. And wait for the right moment.
She turned towards him, the setting sun picking up the golden flecks in her blue eyes, turning them to jewels. Oh, he could wait for the right moment, just so long as he didn’t have to wait too long.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘while we wait for the sun to perform its magic, perhaps you would like to eat.’ He waved his arm behind, where the doors of the palace had been flung open, to reveal a table set for two dressed in white.
Her brows drew together as she took in the scene. ‘How is this possible when we only met this afternoon?’
