The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel (11 page)

‘Then, one night in Las Vegas—well, you know the rest. You showed me to myself in a light I couldn’t bear, and I returned to Greece the next day.’

‘It wasn’t just me,’ Petra said. ‘You were ready to see things differently or I couldn’t have had any effect.’

‘Maybe. I don’t know.’ He gave her a faint smile. ‘Part of me prefers to give you the credit—my good angel, who stopped me going even further astray the first time and now—’

‘Now?’ she asked cautiously.

‘I’m not blind, Petra. I know about myself. I’m not a man anyone in their right mind could want to meet. I scare people, and that’s been fine up to now. It suited me. But you showed me the truth then, and somehow you’ve done it again. For years I’ve sheltered deep inside myself because that way I felt safer. I keep people at a distance because if you don’t let yourself need anyone, nobody can hurt you.

‘But I can’t keep you at a distance because you’ve been in there—’ he touched his heart ‘—for a long time. I’ve never told anyone else what I’ve told you tonight, and I never will. Now you know all my secrets and I’m glad of it, for a burden is gone from me.’

He rested his face against her and she dropped her head, while her tears fell on him.

They slept for a while and awoke in each others’ arms, to
find daylight flooding into the room. Anxiously, Petra looked at his face but was reassured. He was smiling, relaxed.

‘No regrets?’ she asked softly.

He shook his head. ‘None with you. Never. Come with me.’

They dressed and he took her hand, leading her downstairs and out of the house.

She’d briefly glimpsed the garden from an upstairs window and seen that it was mainly a wilderness. Everything was overgrown, and now she thought she knew why.

He led her to a distant place under the trees and removed some branches and leaves. Beneath them was a stone in which were carved a few simple words and dates. He had hidden Brigitta and her child away from the world, protecting them as best he could. Without asking, Petra knew that nobody else had ever seen this place.

‘So many times I’ve stood here and begged her forgiveness,’ he said. ‘What should I tell her about you?’

Her grandfather had once told her that no true Greek was ever completely free of the past. Now Lysandros, this modern man, at home in the harsh world of multibillion dollar business, spoke like an ancient Greek who felt the River Styx swirl around his feet and, beyond it, Hades, the other world, where souls still suffered and communicated with the living.

Could it be true? Was Brigitta there now, gazing at him across the waters, drawing him back, crying that he was hers alone and they should be together for all eternity?

No
! She wouldn’t allow it.

‘You don’t have to tell her anything about me,’ she said. ‘She knows that I love you, just as she does. And, because of that love, she forgives you. Don’t forget that where she is now, she understands everything she didn’t understand before and she wants your suffering to end.’

It touched her heart to see the relief that came into his face,
as though anything said by herself could be trusted, however strange or outrageous it might sound to anyone else.

They walked slowly back into the house and upstairs. Now he kissed her softly, almost tentatively, letting her know that this was different from any other time. They had crossed a boundary of love and trust, and the way ahead was changed for ever.

‘Mine,’ he whispered, ‘all mine.’

‘Yours as long as you want me,’ she whispered back.

‘That will be for ever.’

‘And are you mine?’ she asked.

‘I think I’ve been yours since the first moment. In my heart I always knew. It just took this long to admit it.’

They lay down, holding each other, touching gently, eager to explore yet unwilling to hurry. Taking their time was a tribute that they owed to each other and they paid it in full. He sought the places where her bruises had been worst, laying his lips over them in care and comfort.

‘I’m fine now,’ she said. ‘You’ve looked after me so well.’

‘And I always will,’ he vowed.

His fingers played in a leisurely way over her breasts, first one, then the other, almost as if he were discovering them for the first time, wondering at their beauty. At last he laid his face against them and she felt his tongue, softly caressing. Tremors went through her. New life invaded her body.

She began to run her own hands over him, exploring and teasing him, rejoicing at the suppressed groan that came from him.

‘You do your magic,’ he breathed. ‘Where does it come from? Are you one of the sirens?’

‘Do you want me to be?’

‘Only for me. No other man must hear that siren-song. And I must hear it for ever.’

She turned, pressing him gently onto his back and lying across him so that her peaked nipples brushed him lightly.

‘But they did hear it for ever,’ she said, inviting him further into the fantasy. ‘Those doomed sailors knew it would be the last sound they ever heard. Did they follow it willingly?’

This was the question he’d asked himself many times but always in solitude. Now, in her arms, he knew the answer.

‘Willingly,’ he agreed, ‘because at the last nothing else mattered. Nothing else—ever—but to follow that song wherever it led.’

She smiled down at him. ‘An adventurous man,’ she mused. ‘That’s what I like. I’m going to take you to such places—where no one’s ever been before—’

‘Wherever it leads,’ he murmured. ‘As long as it leads us together.’

When he turned again to bring her beneath him she went gladly, opening for him in warmth and welcome, feeling herself become complete, and then complete again as they climaxed together.

‘No,’ she begged as it ended. ‘Don’t leave me.’

‘I shall never leave you,’ he said, changing her meaning. ‘My body will never leave you and nor will my heart. I’m yours. Do you understand that? Yours for always.’

‘My darling—’

‘I wish I could find the words to tell you what it means to me to have found someone I need never doubt. It’s more than happiness. It’s like being set free.’

‘Dearest, be careful,’ she said worriedly. ‘I’m human, not perfect.’

‘Rubbish, you
are
perfect,’ he said, laughing.

‘I’ll never knowingly betray you, but I might make some silly human mistake. Please, please don’t think me better than I am, in case you end up thinking me worse than I am.’

‘It wouldn’t be possible to think you better than you are,’ he said. ‘You are perfect. You are honest and true, and divinely inspired to be the one person on earth who can keep me safe and happy.’

There was no middle way with this man, she realised. It was all or nothing, with no reservations. The heartfelt simplicity with which he placed himself and his fate in her hands made her want to weep. And silently she prayed that he might never be disappointed in her, for she knew it would destroy him.

L
YSANDROS
awoke in the darkness to find Petra watching him.

‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Something on your mind? Tell me.’ When she still hesitated he sat up and slipped an arm around her. ‘Tell me,’ he repeated. ‘You’ve always wanted me to talk, but how often do you confide in me?’

When she didn’t answer he said, ‘It has to work each way, you know. If you don’t honour me with your confidence, what am I to think?’

‘All right, I will,’ she said slowly.

‘But it’s hard, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, because I’ve never really explained it before. There was nobody to explain to. You asked me if I was yours. In fact I’m yours more than you know.’

He thought for a moment. ‘You mean something special by that, don’t you?’

‘Yes. There are things I couldn’t tell you because they might have been a burden on you.’

‘You? A burden? That isn’t possible.’

‘If you knew how much I depend on you, you might find it a weight.’

‘Now you’re humouring me. Isn’t it me clinging to you because I find in you what I can find in nobody else?’

‘I hope you do, but it’s mutual and I couldn’t admit that before. But, since we’ve found each other, maybe I can.’

He touched her chin, turning it gently towards him so that he could regard her intently. Now she had all his attention. Something in her voice told him this was vital.

‘You’re the first person I’ve ever really mattered to,’ she said simply.

‘Your mother—’

‘Estelle’s a darling but I’ve never figured high on her list of priorities. She’d have loved a pet cat just as much. She’s always been dashing off here and there, leaving me with other people, and I didn’t mind because the other people were my grandparents and I loved them. But that was pure luck. If we hadn’t been lucky enough to have found them, I sometimes wonder what she’d have done.

‘My grandparents loved me, but each came first with the other. That’s as it should be, but when she died I knew he wouldn’t be long following.’

‘There must have been men who wanted you,’ he observed.

‘Well, they wanted something. Maybe it was me, maybe it was what I brought with me—money, a glamorous background. It left me rather cynical, and I kind of hoisted the cynicism into place as a defence, rather like Achilles kept his shield at the ready.’

He nodded. ‘And when you do that, there are always some people who only see the shield.’

‘Yes, you know about that, don’t you?’ She gave a wry smile. ‘We’re not so different, you and I. Your defence is glaring at people, mine is laughter and pretending never to mind about anything.’

‘I had begun to understand that,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t really see behind it until now. Your shield is more skilful than mine.’

‘Nobody sees behind it unless I show them. But I can show you because of what you give me.’

‘I need you more than any man has ever needed a woman since the dawn of time,’ he said slowly.

‘You need me as nobody else ever has or ever will, and that’s the greatest gift in the world. Nobody has ever given it to me before, and I don’t want it from anyone else. You’ve made me complete. I was afraid I’d go through life without ever having that feeling.’

He laid his forehead against her.

‘And I was afraid you’d find me too demanding,’ he said.

‘You could never be demanding enough,’ she assured him. ‘The more you demand, the more you fulfil me. You’ve given me life, as though my real self had only just been born. I don’t think you really understand that yet, but you will, my love. It will take time.’

‘And we have all the time in the world,’ he said, taking her into his arms.

Now their lovemaking was different, infused with the knowledge of each other’s heart that they had just discovered. To Petra it was more like a wedding night than the real one she’d known years ago.

At some time in the dawn he murmured, ‘There’s a story of how, after Achilles’ death, he was honoured as a great lord among the other dead souls. But he longed only to be alive and said he would rather return to live on earth as a servant than stay among the dead as a lord. I never understood that story until now.’

‘You mean,’ she mused, ‘that if I were to treat you like a servant, that would be fine as long as you were with me?’

He considered. ‘Can I think about that some more?’

He felt her shaking against him and joined in her laughter. She watched him with delight and saw an answering delight in his eyes. He touched her face and spoke softly.

‘Love me,’ he said in a voice that almost pleaded. ‘Love me.’

She knew a surge of joy and reached out to caress him, draw him back into her arms and show him that he belonged there. They made love slowly, yet with a subtle intensity that said more than a million words.

It was much later that it occurred to her that he’d said not,
Make love to me
, but ‘Love me.’ And only when it was too late did she understand the distinction.

Next day he swept her out into the car and drove down to the shore.

‘But not the same as last time,’ he said. ‘This is a fishing village—at least it was when this island still had a thriving fishing industry. Now they cater for tourists who are interested in fishing. It’s time you met my friends.’

His friends turned out to be a family of one-time fishermen, who greeted Lysandros like a long-lost brother and drew Petra into the warmth.

There seemed to be dozens of them. She lost track of the husbands, wives, sons, daughters, cousins, nieces and nephews. She only knew that they all smiled and treated Lysandros as one of the family.

‘My mother brought me here for a holiday when I was a kid,’ he explained. ‘I ran off to go exploring, got lost and the family rescued me. We’ve been the best of friends ever since.’

She guessed that they’d been well rewarded. The fishing boat on which they now ran tourist expeditions was top of the range. But it was hard to be cynical about these people and when Kyros, the patriarch, said that the nicest thing about Lysandros was not his generosity but the days when he could find time to visit she felt inclined to believe it.

He seemed to size her up, finally deciding that he could trust her with further confidences.

‘One day, years ago,’ he told her, ‘we found him wandering alone on the beach. We hadn’t known that he was coming here. He hadn’t let us know, or come to the house. Later he said he’d meant to visit us but he arrived in the early morning when the beach was deserted and he thought he’d take a walk. He walked there for hours. A friend saw him and told us. I went down there and walked with him for a while, but he wouldn’t come home with me.

‘Then my sons took over and they walked with him all night, up and down, up and down, the length of the beach. He was like a machine, talking only in grunts. At last he began to slow down and we managed to persuade him to come with us. We put him to bed and he slept for two days.’

‘Did he ever tell you what made him like that?’ Petra asked.

‘I don’t think he knew a lot about it. He just seemed to have been lost in another world, one he couldn’t remember or didn’t want to remember. We didn’t press him. He was our friend, in trouble, and that’s all we needed to know. We did suggest that he should see a doctor, but he said we had been his doctors and he wanted no other. I’ve never seen him like that again so perhaps we were able to make him a little better. I hope so, anyway. He’s such a nice guy.’

It was obvious that he knew nothing of the reality of Lysandros’s life. The well-known name Demetriou told him that this was a businessman, rich enough to buy them the boat, but they had no conception of the full extent of his fortune and power.

And that was why they mattered to him so much, Petra realised. They were the close-knit, loving, knockabout family he’d never had and would have loved to have. To them he was ‘a nice guy’, a little removed by his money, but not enough to stop him being one of them.

Unlike virtually everyone else, they neither feared him nor
showed exaggerated respect, which was a relief to him. Instead, they ribbed him mercilessly, yelled cheerful insults, challenged him to races along the sand and rioted when they beat him.

The girls cast soulful eyes at his handsome face and powerful, elegant movements, but their husbands and boyfriends pulled them firmly aside, glaring possessively, daring Lysandros to try to take advantage, forgiving when he didn’t.

How different from the Athens husbands who would pimp their wives into his bed in exchange for a contract. No wonder Lysandros loved coming here. It was his only contact with normal life, and the sight of him relishing it was as much a revelation as anything she’d learned in the last few days. He even helped Kyros’s wife, Eudora, with the cooking.

Later Eudora whispered in her ear, ‘You’re the only woman he’s ever brought here. That’s why everyone’s looking at you. Don’t tell him I told you.’

She gave a satisfied nod, as though she personally had brought about the miracle, and scurried away.

Afterwards they went out in the boat. Dressed in a swimsuit, Petra sat in the prow, wondering if life could get any better than this.

She drew a deep contented breath, looking up at the sky, then around her at the sea and the horizon. There, a little distance away in the boat, were Lysandros and Kyros chatting casually, laughing in the easy way of friends.

Then she blinked, uncertain whether she’d seen what she thought she’d seen.

Was she going mad, or had Kyros cocked his head significantly in her direction, mouthing the words, ‘Is she—the one?’

And had Lysandros nodded?

I’m fantasising
, she told herself hastily.
I can’t have read Kyros’s lips at this distance. Can I?

But when she looked again they were both regarding her
with interest. To save her blushes she dived overboard and Lysandros joined her.

‘Careful, it’s deep out here,’ he said, holding out his hands to steady her.

She took them and he trod water, drawing her closer, closer against his bare chest, until he could slip his arms right around her, kissing her while treading water madly. Behind them they could hear cheers and yells from the boat.

When they climbed back on board Kyros hinted slyly that there was a cabin below if they wished. More cheers and yells while his wife told him to behave himself and he silenced her with a kiss. It was that sort of day.

Returning home, they ate their fill before going out into the village square where there was dancing. Lysandros could dance as well as any of them. The girls knew it and queued up for their turn. Petra was untroubled. She had all the male attention she could possibly want, and she was enjoying the sight of him unselfconscious and actually seeming happy.

He saw her watching him and waved before being drawn back into the dance by three young females at once, while their menfolk looked on wryly. At the end he blew each of them a kiss before holding out his hands to Petra and drawing her onto the floor.

‘Dance with me,’ he murmured. ‘And save me from getting my throat cut.’

He was showing her off in public, but why? To make a point to the others, or simply because he was more than a little tipsy? Joyfully she decided that she didn’t care. This was the man nature had meant him to be before the demons got their destructive hands on him, and if it was the last thing she did she would open the door that led back to that world and lead him through it.

‘We ought to be going,’ he gasped at last. ‘The trouble is, that wine Kyros serves is…well…’ He sat down suddenly.

‘And everyone else is as woozy as you,’ she said. ‘Even me.’

‘I’m not.’ The young man who spoke was the eldest son of the house, wore a priest’s garb and was stone cold sober. ‘I’ll drive you home.’

‘And I’ll pay for your taxi back,’ Lysandros said sleepily. ‘Done.’

On the way home they sat in the back, with his head on her shoulder, his eyes closed. As the car came to a halt the priest looked back and grinned.

‘I’ve never seen him let go like that before,’ he said. ‘I congratulate you.’

She didn’t ask what he meant. She didn’t need to. Her spirits were soaring.

Lysandros awoke long enough to hand over a bundle of notes. ‘That’ll pay for the taxi. Anything over, put it in the collection box.’

The priest’s eyes popped as he saw the amount.

‘But do you know how much you’ve given—?’

‘Goodnight!’ Lysandros was halfway up the path.

She undressed him while he lay back and let her do all the work.

‘You think you’re a sultan being attended by the harem,’ she observed as she finished.

He opened one eye. ‘It seemed only fair to show you that I can behave as badly as any other man who dances with a dozen women, gets smashed out of his mind and lets his wife wait on him. Goodnight.’

He rolled over and went to sleep on his front, leaving her with the view of the most perfectly shaped male behind she’d ever seen, and wondering if he knew he’d called her his wife.

He slept late next morning, unusual for him. She rose and
made coffee, returning to find him leaning back against the pillow, one arm behind his head and a wicked look in his eyes. Nor was the wickedness confined to his eyes. A glance at the rest of him told her that he was ready to make up for the deficiencies of the night before.

But she decided not to indulge him at once. They drank coffee sedately, although the look in his eyes was far from sedate. She showed no sign of noticing this, but after a while she slipped off her flimsy silk nightdress and began to find small jobs to do about the room, knowing that they gave him a perfect view of her from various angles.

‘Do you have to do that?’ he asked in a strained voice.

‘Well, I thought one of us should do some tidying up,’ she said innocently.

‘Come here!’

Wasting no further time, she raced to the bed and took him in her arms.

‘Just let me love you,’ she said.

‘As long as you do love me,’ he said heavily.

‘I do. I always will.’

He would have spoken again but she silenced him by laying her mouth against his, taking his attention so that at first he didn’t notice her softly wandering hands until the excitement building with her caresses overtook him totally and he drew a long shuddering breath.