to taste his lips...
At night she lay in bed, restless and aching, amazed at how many new desires this man had awoken in her. She’d never felt this way about anyone before, hadn’t even known such strong feelings existed.
And Angelos, as far as she could tell, seemed utterly unmoved.
‘Talia?’ he prompted, and taking a deep breath, she reached for his hand. The feel of his fingers closing over hers was enough to send her heart rate skittering and she tried to hide how uneven her breathing was, but the flush to her face was unavoidable. Maybe Angelos would chalk it up to the sun, or maybe he knew she found him irresistible and was being polite by ignoring it.
He guided Talia to her seat by the tiller, one arm around her shoulders, which only made it worse, and yet also wonderfully, achingly better. She loved it when he touched her. She just wished he’d touch her more.
‘Everyone ready?’ Angelos asked as Talia buckled her life vest. She managed a sunny smile and a nod.
‘Totally.’
Angelos pushed out, and as the boat bobbed into the deeper waters, the wind caught and filled the sails.
It felt like flying. Talia had been out on a sailboat as a child, although not since the kidnapping, for the obvious reason. Now she knelt by the tiller, her face tilted to the wind and sun, enjoying the way the boat skimmed across the glinting water. She could hardly credit, but she was actually enjoying this, and it reminded her of how much she’d used to enjoy, how adventurous she’d been. Seven years ago she’d lost a big part of herself and it had taken coming to Greece to begin to find it again. It had taken her grandfather to push her gently. Without Giovanni, she never would have left the safety of the estate.
Thinking of her grandfather made Talia flinch inwardly with guilt. She’d emailed him several times over the course of the last few weeks, reassuring him she was looking for the book...which was a lie. Beyond looking in the villa’s library, she hadn’t done anything. She hadn’t wanted to risk this fragile peace and happiness she’d found here, with Angelos.
Who you are kidding? You don’t have anything with him.
Angelos was a powerful, attractive, worldly man. Who knew how many women he had in Athens, or indeed around the world? He’d never be interested in someone like her, who cringed at her own shadow, who had no experience in anything.
And in any case, in a month’s time she’d never see him again. She had no reason whatsoever not to ask about her grandfather’s book.
Angelos had come to sit beside her, one hand on the tiller, the other shading his eyes from the sun. Sofia was on the other side of the small craft, gazing down at the shimmering water speeding by, the wake from the boat as white as whipped cream.
‘Do you like poetry?’ Talia blurted, and then winced inwardly at the abrupt absurdity of the question.
Angelos stared at her for a moment, bemused. ‘Now where did that question come from?’
‘I was just curious.’ She bit her lip, misery and indecision swamping her. She knew of no good way to come clean to Angelos and admit why she’d come here in the first place. But maybe he wouldn’t be angry. Maybe he’d understand. And even if he didn’t, she knew she had to say something. She had to find a way to mention her grandfather’s book.
‘I can’t say I’m particularly well-versed,’ Angelos answered, ‘if that isn’t too terrible a pun.’
‘I only wondered, because my grandfather mentioned a Mediterranean poet that he liked,’ Talia said, and Angelos’s forehead furrowed. Clearly he didn’t see the connection, and that’s because there wasn’t one.
‘Tell me about your grandfather. You speak about him quite a lot.’
‘Do I? I suppose that’s because he raised me.’ Relief trickled through her at the realisation that Angelos was providing her with an out. ‘He took over the raising of me and my brothers and sisters after my parents died.’
‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’
‘Seven,’ Talia answered, ‘including my half-brother, Nate. Five brothers and two sisters.’
‘That’s a lot,’ Angelos remarked. ‘Are you close to all of them?’
‘Mostly, in different ways, although I don’t see Nate very much.’ She frowned, thinking of the elusive half-brother who had always skirted the fringes of her family. ‘My father had an affair, before I was born, and Nate was the result.’ She grimaced. ‘Which puts my parents in a bad light, I know. They were...weak people, I think. But I still missed them, the idea of them.’
‘I suppose bad parents are better than none.’
‘Do you think that? You didn’t grow up with any parents...’
‘No.’ Angelos stared out at the sea, his mouth pressed into a firm line. ‘I don’t know. I suppose I would have preferred almost anyone to the care home, or scratching a living on the docks.’
Talia shook her head in genuine admiration. ‘It’s amazing, how far you’ve come.’
‘Just luck,’ Angelos dismissed with a shrug of his shoulders, as he had before.
‘More than luck,’ Talia insisted. ‘Not many people could do what you have done, Angelos.’
A brief look of something close to anguish contorted Angelos’s features and then he looked out to sea again. ‘Maybe,’ he allowed, ‘but I’ve failed in other ways.’
Talia felt as if her heart was bumping its way up her throat. ‘What do you mean?’
Angelos shook his head, and then nodded towards Sofia. ‘This is her day. Let’s not ruin it by talk of the past.’
Which made her even more intrigued, but Talia knew better than to press it. She turned to Sofia with a smile, and they spent the next few minutes chatting in a mixture of broken English and Greek, both of them managing to get their meaning across. Mostly.
Several times she sneaked a glance at Angelos; he was still staring out at the sea, his eyes narrowed against the sun, the set of his mouth seeming bleak, and Talia wondered if she’d ever get an opportunity to ask Angelos what he’d meant when he’d said he’d failed.
* * *
He didn’t talk about the past. He certainly didn’t mention his failures. But he had to Talia; he’d almost told her about the fire. The realisation made Angelos’s shoulders tense and his chest go tight. He didn’t want to relive that awful day, the worst day of his whole life. He’d put those memories in a box and slammed the lid shut, but for some reason getting to know Talia was prying it open again. And that was not a good thing.
What was it about this woman with her clear, hazel gaze and her impish smile and incredible bravery that got to him? That made him want to tell her things, just as she’d told him? She’d been so honest with him, and he admired that deeply. But he wasn’t capable of it himself.
In any case, she was leaving in a month. He’d enjoyed these last few days, and he was grateful to Talia for helping him to reconnect, at least a little, with his daughter.
