style="font-size:15px;"> After busy, bustling Athens, Ava discovered that life on the beautiful island of Spetses moved at a much slower pace. Thankfully.
She frowned as the thought slipped into her mind. She should be glad that she was halfway through her fake engagement to Giannis. So why did she wish that time would slow down?
She hadn’t expected to like him, she thought ruefully. They had stayed at his apartment in the city for two weeks, ostensibly so that they could be seen together at high society events. The shock news that Greece’s most eligible bachelor had chosen a bride had sparked fevered media interest, leading Ava to remark drily that Stefanos Markou could not have missed reports about their romance, unless he had been visiting remote indigenous tribes in the Amazon rainforest.
But for the most part they’d managed to evade the paparazzi when Giannis had kept his word and showed her Athens. Not just the tourist attractions, although of course they did visit the Acropolis and the nearby Acropolis Museum, as well as the Byzantine Museum.
They climbed the steep winding path to the top of Lycabettus Hill and sat at the top to watch the sunset over the city. He took her to the pretty neighbourhood of Plaka and they strolled hand in hand along the narrow streets lined with pastel-coloured houses where cerise-pink bougainvillea tumbled from window boxes. And he took her to dinner at little tavernas tucked away in side streets off the tourist track, where they ate authentic Greek food and Giannis entertained her with stories of the places he had visited around the world and the people he had met. He was an interesting and amusing companion and Ava found herself falling ever deeper under his spell.
Spetses was a twenty-minute helicopter flight from Athens, although most people did not have a helipad in their garden like Giannis, and visitors to the island made use of the red and white water taxis. The island was picturesque, with whitewashed houses and cobbled streets around the harbour. Cars were banned in the town centre and the sight of horse-drawn carriages rattling along gave the impression that Spetses belonged to a bygone era. That feeling was reflected in Villa Delphine, Giannis’s stunning neo-classical mansion, with its exquisite arches and gracious colonnades. The exterior walls were painted pale yellow, and green shutters at the windows gave the house an elegant yet homely charm.
Ava was relieved that Villa Delphine looked nothing like the extravagant but tasteless house in Cyprus where she had lived for part of her childhood, until her father had been arrested and she had discovered the truth about him. Every happy memory from the first seventeen years of her life now seemed grubby, contaminated by her father’s criminality. But at least Sam had been given another chance, and she was hopeful that he would keep out of trouble from now on.
She returned her phone to her bag and watched Giannis walk up the beach towards her. He had been swimming in the sea and water droplets glistened on his olive-gold skin and black chest hairs. His swim-shorts sat low on his hips and Ava’s mouth ran dry as she studied his impressive six-pack. Heat flared inside her when he hunkered down in front of her and dropped a tantalisingly brief kiss on her mouth.
‘Did you get hold of your brother?’
‘I’ve just finished speaking to him. He is helping out on my aunt and uncle’s farm in Cumbria and he says it hasn’t stopped raining since he arrived. I didn’t tell him that it’s twenty-five degrees in Greece. I’m just relieved he’s away from the East End and its association with—’ She broke off abruptly.
‘Association with what?’
‘Oh...historically the area of London around Whitechapel was well-known for being a rough place,’ she prevaricated. Desperate to avoid the questions that she sensed Giannis wanted to ask, she placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled his mouth down to hers. He allowed her to control the kiss and, as always, passion swiftly flared. But when Ava tried to tug him down beside her, he lifted his lips from hers with an ease that caused her heart to give a twinge.
‘Unfortunately there is not time for you to distract me with sex,’ he said in a dry tone that made her blush guiltily. ‘My mother is joining us for lunch.’
She packed her sun cream and the novel she had been reading into her bag and stood up. ‘I thought your mother was in New York?’ Giannis had told her that his mother, Filia, and his younger sister, Irini, shared the house next door to Villa Delphine. Irini was an art historian, currently working at a museum in Florence.
‘Mitera has flown back from the US early to meet you,’ he said as he followed her along the path which led from the private beach up to the house.
Ava halted and swung round to look at him. ‘You have explained to your mother that I am not really your fiancée—haven’t you? We can’t lie to her,’ she muttered when he remained silent. ‘It’s not fair. She might be excited that you are going to get married and perhaps give her grandchildren.’
‘My mother is an inveterate gossip,’ he said curtly. ‘If I told her the truth about us, she would be on the phone within minutes to tell a friend, who would tell another friend, and the story that you are my fake fiancée would be leaked to the press within hours.’
He lifted his hand and traced his finger over her lips. ‘Don’t pout, glykiá mou, or it will look as though we have had a lover’s tiff,’ he teased. His earlier curtness had been replaced by his potent charm and he pulled her into his arms and kissed her until she melted against him. But had his kiss been to distract her? Ava asked herself as she ran upstairs to shower and change out of her bikini before his mother arrived.
When she walked into the salon some half an hour later, wearing an elegant pale blue shift dress from a Paris design house, she heard voices from the terrace speaking in Greek. The woman dressed entirely in black was evidently Giannis’s mother. Ava took a deep breath and was about to step outside and introduce herself, but she hesitated as Filia Gekas’s voice drifted through the open French doors.
‘Have you been honest with this woman who you have decided to marry, Giannis? Have you told Ava everything about you?’
SECRETS AND LIES. They lurked in every corner of the dining room, taunting Ava while she forced herself to eat her lunch and attempted to make conversation with Giannis’s mother. It was an uphill task, for Filia was a discontented woman whose only pleasure in life, it seemed, was criticising her son.
Ava had no idea what the other woman had meant, or what Giannis was supposed to have told her. Perhaps it was something that would only be relevant if he truly intended to marry her—which, of course, he did not. She was trapped in a deception that would only end once he had secured his business deal with Stefanos Markou.
She glanced at him across the table and found he was watching her broodingly as if he was trying to fathom her out. Ava guiltily acknowledged that she had her own secrets. But why should she tell Giannis that her father was serving a prison sentence for armed robbery? In a few weeks’ time there might be a brief media frenzy when it was announced that the engagement between Greece’s golden boy and his English fiancée was over, but the paparazzi would quickly forget about her, as, no doubt, would Giannis.
She pulled her mind back to the conversation between Giannis and his mother. ‘I don’t know why you paid a fortune for a holiday to the Maldives,’ Filia said sharply. ‘You know I dislike long-haul flights.’
‘It is hardly any longer than the flight time to New York,’ Giannis pointed out mildly. ‘I bid for the trip at
