The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel (6 page)

Suddenly the evening was on the verge of collapse.

‘Can I have a little more wine?’ she asked, holding out her glass and smiling in a way that should have warned him.

He took the hint and abandoned the apology, making her feel instantly guilty. He was doing his best, but these were uncharted seas for him. It was she who held the advantage. Resolutely, she worked to lighten the atmosphere.

‘Actually,’ she said between sips, ‘the most exciting thing that’s happened to me is an invitation from The Cave Society.’

She told him about the letter. Like Nikator, he was sceptical.

‘I’m not swallowing it hook, line and sinker,’ she assured him. ‘I’m too much of an old hand for that.’

‘Old
hand,’ he murmured, regarding her appreciatively.

‘Very old. In terms of my reputation, I’m ancient. This—’ she pointed to her luxuriant golden mane ‘—is just dye to hide the fact that I’m white-haired. Any day now I’m going to start walking with a stick.’

‘Will you stop talking nonsense?’

‘Why?’ she asked, genuinely puzzled. ‘Nonsense is fun.’

‘Yes, but—’ He retired, defeated. It wasn’t possible to say that the contrast between her words and the young, glorious reality was making him dizzy.

‘Oh, all right,’ she conceded, ‘I don’t think there’s anything to be found in those caves. On the other hand, I’ll usually go anywhere and do anything for a “find”, so perhaps I should.’

‘But what are you going to find that thousands of others have failed to find?’

‘Of course they failed,’ she teased, ‘because they weren’t me. Something is lying there, waiting for me to appear from the mists of time—knowing that the glory of the discovery belongs to me, and only me. Next thing you know, they’ll put my statue up in the Parthenon.’

She caught sight of his face and burst out laughing.

‘I’m sorry,’ she choked, ‘but if you could see your expression!’

‘You were joking, weren’t you?’ he asked cautiously.

‘Yes, I was joking.’

‘I’m afraid I’m a bit—’ He shrugged. ‘It can be hard to tell.’

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ she said. ‘I know you can laugh. I actually heard you, at the wedding reception, but somehow—’

‘It’s just—’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘You think too great a sense of humour is a weakness, so you keep yours in protective custody, behind bolts and bars, only to be produced at certain times.’

Lysandros tried to speak, to make some light-hearted remark that would pass the matter off, but inwardly he felt
himself retreating from her. Her words, though kindly meant, had been like a lamp shone into his soul, revealing secrets. Not to be tolerated.

‘Are you ready for the next course?’ he asked politely.

‘Yes, please.’

It was definitely a snub, yet she was swept by tenderness and pity for him. He was like a man walking a path strewn with boulders, not knowing they were there until he fell and hurt himself.

And she had a sad feeling that she was the only person in the world who saw him like this, and therefore the only person able to help him.

If only she could, she thought with a qualm of self-doubt. She was still feeling her way tentatively. Suppose she persuaded him to trust her, then faltered and let him down, abandoning him again to mistrust and desolation? Suddenly that seemed like the greatest crime in the world.

As the waiter served them she became aware that a man and a woman were hovering close, trying to get a look at her. When she looked straight at them, they jumped.

‘It
is
her,’ the woman breathed. ‘It
is
you, isn’t it?’ Then, pulling herself together, she said, ‘You really are Petra Radnor?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I saw you on a talk show on television just before we left England, and I’ve read your books. Oh, this is
such
a thrill.’

There was nothing to do but be polite. Lysandros invited them to sit at the table. His manner was charming, and she wondered if he secretly welcomed the interruption.

‘I’m just learning that Miss Radnor is a celebrity,’ he said. ‘Tell me about her.’

They plunged in, making Petra groan with embarrassment. They were Angela and George, they belonged to The Cave Society and had only just arrived in Athens.

‘Our President told us that he’d written to you,’ Angela bubbled. ‘You will accept our invitation to come to the island, won’t you? It would mean so much to us to have a real figure of authority.’

‘Please,’ Petra said hastily, ‘I am not a figure of authority.’

‘Oh, but you—’

It went on and on. Petra began to feel trapped. Vaguely she was aware that Lysandros’s phone had rung. He answered and his face was instantly full of alarm.

‘Of course,’ he said sharply. ‘We’ll come at once.’ He hung up. ‘I’m afraid there’s a crisis. That was my secretary to say I must return immediately, also Miss Radnor, whose presence is essential.’

With a gesture he summoned the waiter, paying not only for his meal and hers but whatever their guests had consumed.

‘Good evening,’ he said, rising to his feet and drawing her with him. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

They made their escape, running until they were three streets away. Then, under the cover of darkness, he pulled her into his arms.

‘Now!’
he said.

P
LEASURE
and relief went through her. She had wanted this so much, and now everything in her yearned towards him. Her mouth was ready for him but so was every inch of her body. As he grasped her, so she grasped him, caressing him with hands and lips.

‘How did you arrange for the phone to ring?’ she gasped.

‘It didn’t. I simply pressed a button that set the bell off, then I pretended to answer. I had to get you away from there, get you to myself.’

He kissed her again, and his kiss was everything she’d wanted since their meeting. Nothing else in her life had been like it. Nothing else ever would be. It was the kiss she’d secretly longed for since he’d cheated her with a half-kiss all those years ago.

‘What have you done to me?’ he growled. ‘Why can’t I stop you doing it?’

‘You could if you really wanted to,’ she whispered against his mouth. ‘Why don’t you…why don’t you…?’

‘Stop tormenting me—’

At that she laughed. Why should she make it easy for him?

‘Siren—witch—’

But his lips caressed her even as they hurled names at her.
He was in the grip of a power stronger than himself, and that was just how she wanted him.

From far in the distance an unwelcome sound broke into her joy. It came closer and she realised that a crowd of youngsters had appeared at the end of the street, singing, dancing, chanting up into the sky. Then she recalled that this was European Music Night, when Athens was filled with public celebration.

The crowd passed them, offering good wishes to a couple so profitably engaged. Lysandros grasped her hand and began to run again, but there was no escape. Another crowd appeared from another side street, and another. Seeking an exit, they found themselves in an open square where a rock band was playing on a makeshift stage.

‘Where can you get privacy in this place?’ Lysandros roared.

‘You can’t,’ Petra cried. She was laughing now, every nerve in her body thrumming with joy. ‘There’s no privacy; there’s only music and laughter—and whatever else you want—’

‘It’s not funny,’ he growled.

‘But it is, it is—can’t you see—? Oh, darling, please try to understand—please try—’

He relented and touched her face. ‘Whatever you say.’

He wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but he knew they’d come to a place where she was at home, sure-footed, able to lead without faltering. A wise man would accept that and, since he prided himself on his wisdom, he did the sensible thing and let her lead him into the dance.

All about them the other couples swung around, while the band hollered. He knew nothing except that he was looking down at her face and she was laughing, not with amusement but with joy and triumph, inviting him to share. Once, long ago, she’d taken his hand and led him through the tunnel to success. Now she could do it again, except that this success
would be different, not a matter of money and crushing foes, but a joyous richness and light, streaming ahead, leading to new life, and whatever that life might bring.

‘Let’s go,’ he cried.

‘Where?’ she called back in delight.

‘Anywhere—wherever you want to take me.’

‘Then come.’

She began to run, taking him with her, not knowing where she was heading or why; only knowing that she was with him and that was enough. Now the whole of Athens seemed to be flaming around them.

She stopped at last and they stood, gasping together, their chests heaving. From overhead came the sound of fireworks racing up into the black sky, exploding in an orgy of light, while down below the crowd cried out its pleasure.

‘Phew!’ she said.

He gave a sigh of agreement and she thumped him lightly.

‘You shouldn’t be out of breath. I thought you worked out every morning in the gym.’

He did exactly that, and was fully as fit as she expected, but in her company his breathlessness had another cause. He reached for her. Petra saw the firework colours flash across his face, and then his arms were tight about her and his mouth was on hers, teasing, provoking, demanding, imploring.

‘Who are you?’ he gasped. ‘What are you doing in my life? Why can’t I—?’

‘Hush, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but this. Kiss me—kiss me.’

She proceeded to show him what she meant, sensing the response go through him, delighting in her power over him and his over her. Soon they must reach the moment that had been inevitable since their meeting, and everything in her yearned towards it.

Lysandros felt as if he were awaking from a dream, or sinking into one. He wasn’t sure which. Her plea of ‘Kiss me’ was entrancing, yet something deep inside him was drawing away. He tried to fight it. He wanted her, but so much that it alarmed him.

Impulse had made him call her tonight. Impulse had made him drag her away from their unwanted companions. Impulse—the thing he’d battled for years—was beginning to rule him.

A puppet dancing on the end of her chain. And she knew it.

‘What is it?’ she asked, feeling him draw away.

‘This place is very public. We should get back to the table; I think I left something there.’

‘And then?’ she asked slowly, unwilling to believe the thought that was coming into her head.

‘Then I think we should both—go home.’

She stared at him, trying to believe what he was doing, feeling the anger rise within her. He hadn’t left anything behind and they both knew it. But he was telling her the magic was over. He’d banished it by an act of will, proving that his control was still strong, although he’d brought her to the edge of losing hers.

It was a demonstration of power, and she was going to make him regret it.

‘How dare you?’ she said in a soft, furious voice. ‘Who the hell do you think you are to despise me?’

‘I don’t—’

‘Shut up. I have something to say and you’re going to listen. I am not some desperate female who you can pick up and put down when it suits you. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean because you know exactly. They’re all standing in line for you, aren’t they? But not me.’

‘I don’t know who gave you such an idea,’ he grated.

‘Any woman you’ve ever known could have given it to me. Your reputation went before you.’

His own anger rose.

‘I’ll bet Nikator had something to say, but are you mad enough to listen to him? Don’t tell me he fools you with that “little brother” act!’

‘Why shouldn’t I believe he’s concerned about me?’ she demanded.

‘Oh, he’s concerned all right, but not as a brother. The rumours about him are very interesting at the moment. Why do you think Debra Farley left Athens so suddenly? Because he went too far, wouldn’t take no for an answer. Have a look at his face and see what she did to it when she was fighting him off. I gather it took a lot of money to get her to leave quietly.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ she said, ignoring the whispers within her brain.

‘I do not tell lies,’ Lysandros snapped.

‘No, but you can get things wrong. Even the great, infallible Lysandros Demetriou makes mistakes, and you’ve really made one about me. One minute you say you’ll follow “anywhere I want to take you”. The next moment it’s time to go home. Do you really think I’ll tamely accept that sort of behaviour?

‘What am I supposed to do now, Lysandros? Sit by the phone, hoping you’ll get in touch, like one of those Athens wives? When you called tonight I should have told you to go and jump in the lake—’

‘But you didn’t, so perhaps we—’

The words were like petrol on flames.

‘Well, I’m doing it now,’ she seethed. ‘You have your work to do, I have mine, and there’s no need for us to trouble each other further. Goodnight.’

Turning swiftly away before he could reach out, she hurried back through the streets to the little restaurant. George and Angela were still there, beaming at the sight of Petra.

‘We just knew you’d come back,’ Angela said. ‘You will come to the cave, won’t you?’

‘Thank you, I look forward to it,’ Petra said firmly. ‘Why don’t we discuss the details now?’ She smiled at Lysandros with deadly intent. ‘I’ll get a taxi home. Don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you’re busy.’

‘You’re right,’ he said in a forced voice. ‘Goodnight. It’s been a pleasure meeting you all.’

He inclined his head to them all and was gone. Nor did he look back, which Petra thought was just as well, or he would have seen a look of misery on her face that she wouldn’t have admitted for all the world.

Lysandros awoke in a black depression. Now the magical sunshine that had flooded the path ahead had died, replaced by the prosaic everyday light of the city. She wasn’t here, and it shamed him to remember how her presence had made him act.

‘Wherever you want to take me.’ Had he really said that?

He should be glad that she’d hurled the reminder at him, warning him of the danger into which he’d been sleepwalking, saving him in time.

In time?

He rose and went through the process of preparing for the day, moving like an automaton while his brain seethed.

She alarmed him. She mattered too much. Simply by being herself she could lure him out of the armoured cave where he lived, and where he had vowed to stay for the rest of his days.

For years women had come and gone in his life. He’d treated them well in a distant fashion, and seen them depart without regret. But this woman had broken the mould, and he knew that he must cut ties now or risk yielding to weakness, the thing he dreaded most in the world.

He went to his desk, meaning to write a polite letter, accepting her dismissal. That way he wouldn’t have to hear her voice with its soft resonance, its memory of pleasure half experienced, still anticipated. He drew paper towards him and prepared to write.

But the pen seemed to have developed a life of its own, and refused to do his bidding. His brain shut down, denying him the necessary words.

This was her doing. She was like one of the sirens of legend, whose voices had lured sailors onto the rocks. How much had they known, those doomed men? Had they gone unknowingly to their death, or had they recognised the truth about the siren-song, yet still been drawn in, unable to help themselves? And when it had been too late, and they sank beneath the waves, had they cursed themselves for yielding, or had their suffering been worth it for the glimpse of heaven?

He would have given anything to know.

At last he gave up trying to write. It was she who had broken it off, and there was nothing more to be said. More business problems made another journey to the port essential, and for several days he had no time to think of anything else. On the journey back to Athens he was able to relax in the feeling of having regained command of his life.

Petra would have replaced him with another eager suitor, and that was best for both of them. He was even glad of it. So he told himself.

On the last mile home he switched on his car radio to hear the latest news. A commentator was describing a search taking place at sea, where a boat had been found overturned. Those aboard had been exploring a cave on an island in the gulf.

‘One of those missing is known to be Petra Radnor, daughter of film star Estelle Radnor, who recently married—’

He pulled over sharply to the side of the road and sat in frozen stillness, listening.

She’d said she’d go anywhere and do anything for a ‘find’, but had she really wanted to go? Hadn’t she tried to slide out of it, but then fallen back into the clutches of George and Angela only because of him?

If she hadn’t been angry with me she wouldn’t have gone on this trip. If she’s dead, it’s my doing—like last time—like last time—

At last life came back to his limbs. He swung the car round in the direction of the coast, driving as though all the devils in hell were after him.

Night was falling as he reached the sea and headed for the place where the boats were to be found. Outwardly he was calm but he couldn’t stop the words thrumming in his head.

She’s dead—she’s dead—you had your chance and it’s gone—again—

A crowd had gathered in the harbour, gazing out to the water and a boat that was heading towards them. Lysandros parked as close as he could and ran to where he could have a better view of the boat.

‘They’ve rescued most of them,’ said a man nearby. ‘But I heard there was still someone they couldn’t find.’

‘Does anyone know who?’ Lysandros asked sharply.

‘Only that it was a woman. I doubt if they’ll find her now.’

You killed her—you killed her!

He pressed against the rail, straining his eyes to see the boat coming through the darkness. In the bow stood a woman, huddled in a blanket, as though she’d been rescued from the water. Frantically he strained to see more, but her face was a blur. A passing light suggested that her hair might be light. It could be Petra—if only he could be sure.

His heart was thundering and he gripped the railing so
hard that his hands hurt. It must be her. She couldn’t be dead, because if she were—

Shudders racked him.

Suddenly a shout went up, followed by a cheer. The boat was closer now and at last he could see the woman. It was Petra.

He stood there, holding the rail for support, taking deep breaths, trying to bring himself under control.

She would be here in a few moments. He must plan, be organised. A cellphone. That was it! She would have lost hers in the water, but she’d need one to call her mother. He could do that to please her.

Her eyes were searching the harbour until at last she began to wave. Full of joyful relief, Lysandros waved back, but then realised that she wasn’t looking at him but at someone closer. Then he saw Nikator dart forward, reaching up to her. She leaned down, smiling and calling to him.

Lysandros stayed deadly still as the boat docked and the passengers streamed off seeking safety. Petra went straight into Nikator’s arms and they hugged each other. Then Nikator took out his cellphone, handing it to her, saying things Lysandros couldn’t hear, but could guess. Petra dialled, put the phone to her ear and cried, ‘Estelle, darling, it’s me, I’m safe.’