The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel (7 page)

He didn’t hear the rest. He backed hastily into the darkness before hurrying to find his car. Then he departed as quickly as he could.

She never saw him.

Aminta took charge of her as soon as she reached home, making her have a hot bath, eat well and go to bed.

‘It was all over the news,’ she told Petra. ‘We were so worried. Whatever happened?’

‘I don’t really know. At first it just seemed like an ordinary
storm, but suddenly the waves got higher and higher and we overturned. Did you say it was on the news?’

‘Oh, yes, about how you were all drowning and they couldn’t rescue everyone.’

‘There’s one woman they’re still looking for,’ Petra sighed.

She slept badly and awoke in a dark mood. Somewhere in the house she heard the phone ring, and a moment later Aminta brought it in to her.

‘It’s for you,’ she said. ‘A man.’

Eagerly she waited to hear Lysandros’s voice, full of happiness that she was safe. But it was George, to tell her that the missing woman had been found safe and well. She talked politely for a while, but hung up with relief.

There was no call from Lysandros. The news programmes must have alerted him to her danger, yet the man who had kissed her with such fierce intensity had shown no interest in her fate.

She couldn’t blame him after the way she’d ordered him out of her life, yet the hope had persisted that he cared enough to check that she was safe. Apparently not.

She’d been fooling herself. Such interest as he’d ever had in her had been superficial and was now over. He couldn’t have said so more clearly.

Nikator was waiting for her when she went downstairs.

‘You shouldn’t have got up so soon,’ he said. ‘After what you’ve been through. Go back to bed and let me look after you.’

She smiled. It had been good to find him on the quay to take her home, and she was feeling friendly towards him. For the next few days he behaved perfectly, showing brotherly kindness without ever crossing the line. It was bliss to relax in his care. Now she was sure that the stories about him weren’t true.

If only Lysandros would call her.

After several days with no sign from Petra, Lysandros called her cellphone, without success. It was still functioning, but it had been switched off. It remained off all the rest of that day, through the night and into the morning.

It made no sense. She could have switched to the answer service; instead, she’d blocked calls completely.

He refused to admit to a twinge of alarm. But at last he yielded and called the Lukas house, getting himself put through to Homer’s secretary.

‘I need to speak to Miss Radnor,’ he said gruffly. ‘Be so kind as to ask her to call me.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but Miss Radnor is no longer here. She and Mr Nikator left for England two days ago.’

Silence. When he could manage to speak normally, he said, ‘Did she leave any address or contact number?’

‘No, sir. She and Mr Nikator said that they didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone, for a long time.’

‘What happens in an emergency?’

‘Mr Nikator said no emergency could matter beside—’

‘I see. Thank you.’ He hung up abruptly.

At the Lukas mansion the secretary looked around to where Nikator stood in the doorway.

‘Did I do all right?’ she asked.

‘Perfect,’ he told her. ‘Just keep telling that story if there are any more calls.’

Lysandros sat motionless, his face hard and set.

She’s gone—she’s not coming back—

The words called to him out of the past, making him shudder.

She’s gone—

It meant nothing. She had every right to leave. It was different from the other time.

You’ll never see her again—never again—never again—
His fist slammed into the wall with such force that a picture fell to the ground and smashed. A door opened behind him.

‘Get out,’ he said without looking around.

The door closed hastily. He continued to sit there, staring—staring into the darkness, into the past.

At last he rose like a man in a dream and went up to his room, where he threw a few clothes into a bag. To his secretary he said, ‘I’ll be away for a few days. Call me on the cellphone if it’s urgent. Otherwise, deal with it yourself.’

‘Can I tell anyone where you are?’

‘No.’

He headed for the airport and caught the next flight to the island of Corfu. To have used his private jet would have been to tell the world where he was going, and that was the last thing he wanted.

In Corfu he owned Priam House, a villa that had once belonged to his mother. It was his refuge, the place he came to be alone, even to the extent of having no servants. There he would find peace and isolation, the things he needed to save him from going mad.

The only disturbance might come from students and archaeologists, attracted by the villa’s history. It had been built on the ruins of an ancient temple, and rumours abounded of valuable relics that might still be found.

Light was fading as the villa came into sight, silent and shuttered. He left the taxi while there was still a hundred yards to go, so that he might approach unnoticed.

He opened the gate noiselessly and walked around the side of the villa. All seemed quiet and relief flooded him. At last he let himself in at the back and went through the hall to the stairs. But before he could climb he saw something that made him freeze.

The door to the cellar was standing open.

It was no accident. The cellar led directly to the foundations and that door was always kept locked for reasons of safety. Only he had the key.

Rage swept through him at having his solitude destroyed. At that moment he could have done violence. But his fury was cold, enabling him to go down the stairs and approach his quarry noiselessly.

Someone was in the far corner of the cellar with only one small light that they were using to examine the stones, so that the person couldn’t be seen.

‘Stop right there,’ he said harshly. ‘You don’t understand the danger you’re in. I won’t tolerate this. I allow nobody in here.’

He heard a gasp as the intruder made a sharp movement. The torch fell to the floor. His hand shot out in the darkness, found a body, seized it, grappled with it, brought it down.

‘Now,’ he gasped, ‘you’re going to be sorry you did this. Let’s look at you.’

He reached over for the torch that lay on the flagstones and shone it directly into his enemy’s face. Then he froze with shock.

‘Petra!’

P
ETRA
lay looking up at him, her eyes wide, her breath coming in short gasps. Hurriedly he got to his feet, drawing her up with him and holding her, for she was shaking.

‘You,’ he said, appalled. ‘
You!
’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

She swayed as she spoke and he tightened his grip lest she fall. Swiftly he picked her up and carried her out of the cellar and up the stairs to his room, where he laid her gently on the bed and sat beside her.

‘Are you mad to do such a thing?’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘Have you any idea of the danger you were in?’

‘Not real danger,’ she said shakily.

‘I threw you down onto stone slabs. The floor’s uneven; you might have hit your head—I was in such a rage—’

‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t—’

‘The hell with that! You could have died. Do you understand that?
You could have died and then I—’
A violent shudder went through him.

‘My dear,’ she said gently, ‘you’re making too much of this. I’m a bit breathless from landing so hard, but nothing more.’

‘You don’t know that. I’m getting you a doctor—’

‘You will not,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t need a doctor. I haven’t broken anything, I’m not in pain and I didn’t hit my head.’

He didn’t reply but looked at her, haggard. She took his face between her hands. ‘Don’t look like that. It’s all right.’

‘It isn’t,’ he said desperately. ‘Sometimes I lose control—and do things without thinking. It’s so easy to do harm.’

She guessed he was really talking about something else and longed to draw the truth out of him, but instinct warned her to go carefully. He’d given her a clue to his fierce self-control, but she knew by now that he would clam up if she pressed him.

And the time was not right. For the moment she must comfort him and ease his mind.

‘You didn’t do me any harm,’ she insisted.

‘If I had I’d never forgive myself.’

‘But why? I broke into your house. I’m little more than a common criminal. Why aren’t you sending for the police?’

‘Shut up!’ he said, enfolding her in his arms.

He didn’t try to kiss her, just sat holding her tightly against him, as if fearing that she might try to escape.

‘That’s nice,’ she murmured. ‘Just hold me.’

She felt his lips against her hair, felt the temptation that ran through him, but sensed wryly that he wasn’t going to yield to it. He had something else on his mind.

‘How badly bruised are you?’ he asked.

‘A few knocks, nothing much.’

‘Let me see.’

He got to work, opening the buttons of her blouse, drawing it off her, removing her bra, but seemingly unaffected by the sight of her bare breasts.

‘Lie down so that I can see your back,’ he said.

Wondering, she did so, and lay there while he studied her.

‘It’s not so bad,’ she said.

‘I’ll get a shirt for you to wear tonight.’

‘No need. My things are next door. I’ve been here several days. Nobody saw me because of the shutters. I brought
enough food to manage on and crept about. You see, I’m a really dishonest character.’

He groaned. ‘And if something had happened to you? If you’d had a fall and been knocked out? You could have died without anyone knowing and lain here for days, weeks. Are you crazy, woman?’

She twisted around and sat up to face him.

‘Yes, I think I am,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t understand anything any more.’

He ground his teeth. ‘Do I need to explain to you why the thought of your being in danger wrenches me apart? Are you insensitive as well as crazy and stupid?’

‘My danger didn’t bother you when I was on that boat that overturned.’ A thought struck her. ‘Unless you didn’t know about it.’

‘Of course I knew about it. I went to the harbour in case you needed me. I saw you arrive. After that, I knew you were all right.’

‘You—?’ she echoed slowly.

‘The accident was on the news. Of course I went to see how you were. I saw you get off the boat, straight into Nikator’s arms. I didn’t want to disturb a touching reunion, so I went home.’

‘You were there all the time?’ she whispered.

‘Where the hell would you expect me to be when you were in danger?’ he raged. ‘What do you think I am? Made of ice?’

Now she was glad of the understanding that was gradually coming to her, and which saved her from misjudging him. Without it she would have seen only his anger, entirely missing the fear and pain which tortured him more because he had no idea how to express them.

‘No,’ she said helplessly, holding out her arms to him. ‘I’d never think that. Oh, I’ve been so stupid. I shouldn’t have let you fool me.’

‘What does that mean?’ he asked, going into her arms.

‘You hide from people. But I won’t let you hide from me.’

He looked down at her naked breasts, just visible in the shadowy light. Slowly, he drew his fingertips down one until they reached the nipple, which was already proud and expectant.

‘No more hiding,’ he murmured.

‘There’s nowhere to hide from each other,’ she said. ‘There never was.’

‘No, there never was.’

She began to work on his buttons but he forestalled her, undressing quickly, first his jacket, then his shirt. She leaned towards him so that her breasts touched his bare skin, and felt the tremors that possessed his body, guessed that he would have controlled them if he could, for he was still not yet ready to abandon himself. But that control was beyond him, she was delighted to see.

They removed the rest of their clothes, watching each other with brooding possessiveness, taking their time, for this mattered too much to be rushed. He was still fearful lest he hurt her, caressing her gently, almost tentatively, until the deep motion of her chest told him of her mounting impatience.

For too long she’d dreamed of this moment, and nothing was going to deprive her of it now. She kept her hands against his skin, moving them softly to tease him and make sure he continued with what he was doing.

His touch had made her nipples hard and peaked, so that when she leaned against him he drew a long, shaking breath at the impact.

‘This is dangerous,’ he whispered.

‘Who for?’ she challenged. ‘Not me.’

‘Does nothing scare you?’

‘Nothing,’ she assured him against his lips, ‘nothing.’

She released him briefly to finish removing her clothes, and
when he had done the same they returned to each other with new fervour. Now she had what she wanted—the sight of him naked and eager for her—and her blood raced at the thought of meeting his eagerness with her own.

His fingers on her skin made it flame with life.

‘Yes—’ she whispered. ‘Yes—yes—I’m here—come here—’

He pressed her gently back against the pillows and began to caress her everywhere—her neck, her waist, her hips. He was taking his time, arousing her slowly, giving her every chance to think if this was really what she wanted. But thinking was the last thing she could do now. Everything in her was focused on one craving—to enjoy the physical release he could give her and discover if it fulfilled all the wild hopes she’d been building up. It would. It
must
.

She caressed him in return, wherever she could reach, frustrated by her limits. She wanted all of him, and even now that he was loving her in the way she most craved, it mysteriously wasn’t enough.

Many times she’d wondered about him as a lover. She knew he could be cool, ironic, distant, but with flashes of intensity through which another, wholly different man could be glimpsed. She’d been intrigued by both men, wondering which of them would finally be tempted to her bed, but none of the pictures that came into her head satisfied her. They were incomplete. As a lover he would have yet another identity and she was eager to meet him.

When he finally moved over her she lay back with a sigh, waiting for him. And he was there, inside her, claiming her, completing and fulfilling her. She clasped her legs around him at once, wanting everything, and heard him give a soft growl, as though, by her gesture, she’d told him something he needed to know.

She gasped, rejoicing at the power in his hips as they released the desire that had overcome him, driving her own desire to new heights and making her thrust back at him, digging her fingers cruelly into his flesh.

‘Yes—’ she whispered.
‘Yes!’

To her delight he was smiling, as though her pleasure gladdened his heart. She’d known he would be a strong lover but her imagination had fallen short of the reality. He took her with power, never seeming to tire, bringing her to the brink several times before taking her over the edge so that his cry joined with hers as they fell together into a bottomless chasm.

For a long time she lay with her eyes closed, enfolded in the world where only pleasure and satisfaction existed. When she opened them again she found that he was lying with his head on her chest, breathing hard. He lifted it slowly and looked at her.

‘Are you all right?’ he whispered.

‘Everything is fine,’ she assured him.

Further words failed her. She knew that what had just happened had transformed her life, not merely because he was the most skilled lover she had ever known, but because her heart reached out to him in a way it had never done for any other man. He could possess her and give to her, but what he claimed in return was something she rejoiced to give. By taking from her, he completed her, and that was beyond all words.

He rose and looked at her. Surveying him in return, she smiled. He still wanted her.

Hooking her arm around his neck, she eased herself up, but then winced.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he demanded, aghast. ‘I forgot—’

‘So did I,’ she promised him. ‘I think I’ll get in the shower and see what the rest of me looks like.’

He helped her off the bed, which she needed for her exertions seemed to have weakened her. Clinging to him, she
went slowly into the bathroom, switching on the lights so that he could see her clearly for the first time, and turning her to look at her back. She heard him draw a sharp breath.

‘Nasty,’ he said. ‘You must have landed on something sharp. I’m so sorry.’

‘I can’t feel anything,’ she said shakily. ‘I guess I have too many other things to feel.’

He started the shower and helped her to get under it, soaping her gently, then laving her with water and dabbing her dry. Then he carried her tenderly back to bed and went to fetch her things from the room where she had been camping.

‘You wear cotton pyjamas?’ he asked as her nightwear came into view.

‘What were you expecting? Slinky lingerie? Not when I’m alone. These are practical.’

‘I’ll see what I can find us to eat,’ he said. ‘I may have to go out.’

‘There’s some food in the kitchen. I brought it with me.’

He made them coffee and sandwiches, tending her like a nanny.

‘We ought to have talked before anything happened,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’

She smiled. ‘That’s easy to say, but I don’t think we could have talked before. We had to get past a certain point.’

He nodded. ‘But now it’s going to be different. I’m going to look after you until you’re better.’ Tenderly he helped her into her pyjamas, and a thought seemed to strike him. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Three days.’

‘When did you get back from England?’

‘I haven’t been to England. What made you think I had?’

‘When I found your phone turned off I called the house and spoke to someone who said you’d gone to England with
Nikator. There was a message that neither of you wanted to be disturbed—for quite a while.’

‘And you believed that?’ she demanded. ‘What are you—dead in the head?’

‘How could I not believe it? There was nothing to tell me any different. You’d vanished without a trace. Your phone was switched off.’

‘I lost it in the water. I’ve got a new one.’

‘How was I supposed to know? You might have gone with him.’

But he knew that wasn’t the real reason for his credulity. Nikator’s lie had touched a nerve, and that nerve led back to a lack of self-confidence so rare with him that he couldn’t cope with it.

Petra was still indignant.

‘It wasn’t possible,’ she fumed. ‘It was never possible, and you should have known that.’

‘How could I know it when you weren’t there to tell me?’ he asked reasonably. ‘If I didn’t think it through properly, maybe it’s your fault.’

‘Oh, right, fine. Blame me.’

‘You left without a word.’

‘
I
didn’t say a word? What about you? I don’t go pestering a man who’s shown he doesn’t want me.’

‘Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want,’ he said with a faint touch of the old ferocity.

‘You were pushing me away, you know you were—’

‘No, that’s not what I—’

‘Sending me different signals that I couldn’t work out.’

He tore his hair. ‘Maybe I couldn’t work them out myself. You told me you’d finished with me—’

‘I didn’t actually say that—’

‘The hell you didn’t! Have you forgotten some of the
things you said? I haven’t. I’ll never forget them. I never wanted you to go away. And then—’ he took a shuddering breath ‘—you could have died on that boat, and you might not have been on it if it weren’t for me. I just had to know you were safe, but after that—well, you and he seemed so comfortable together.’

‘Except that he took the chance to spread lies,’ she seethed. ‘I was actually beginning to think he might not be so bad after all. I’ll strangle him.’

‘Leave it for a while,’ he soothed. ‘Then we’ll do it together. But until then you stay in bed until I say you can get up.’

‘I’m not fragile,’ she protested. ‘I won’t break.’

‘That’s my decision. You’re going to be looked after.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said meekly, through twitching lips.

He threw her a suspicious glance. She retaliated by saluting him.

‘I understand,
sir
. I’ll just keep quiet and obey, because I’m gonna be looked after whether I like it or not,
sir
!’

He smiled then. ‘Oh, I think you might like it,’ he said.