he flicked his gaze away, towards his daughter. Talia couldn’t understand the Greek but the quick jerk of his head towards the elevator conveyed his meaning well enough. It was time to go.
She slipped the pad and pencils back into her bag and stood with Sofia. Angelos turned back to her.
‘The helicopter is ready, and your things have been fetched from the hotel.’
‘Helicopter...’ She stared at him in alarm. ‘You didn’t say anything about a helicopter.’
Angelos frowned. ‘How else would we get to Kallos?’
‘By car?’ she guessed hopefully, and Angelos’s nostrils flared.
‘Kallos is an island, Miss Di Sione. We will travel there by helicopter. It should only take an hour.’
An island. She thought of Sofia’s drawing, the blue water, the beach. Of course it was an island.
She realised she must have been gaping at him because Angelos’s lips compressed as he looked at her. ‘Is that a problem?’ he asked, his tone deceptively mild.
‘No, of course not.’ But she was lying, because she could already feel the panic starting its insistent staccato pulse inside her. What on earth was she doing, going goodness knew where with this stranger? In a helicopter?
Her breath hitched and Angelos glanced at her. ‘You aren’t going to faint again?’
‘No,’ Talia said with far more certainty than she felt. In the past twenty-four hours she’d gone about five thousand miles outside her comfort zone. She wasn’t sure she could manage another step.
Then she felt a small, cold hand slide into hers and she looked down to see Sofia smiling at her. ‘Okay?’ she asked, and Talia was touched and humbled by the girl’s obvious concern.
‘Okay,’ she confirmed shakily, and hand in hand they walked towards the lift.
Even with Sofia’s support Talia couldn’t keep the fear from kicking up her heart rate as they took the lift up to the top of the building where a helicopter was waiting on a helipad.
She glanced at Angelos, who was striding towards the machine, the wind from the whirring propellers moulding his shirt and suit jacket close to his body so Talia could see the impressive outline of his well-defined pecs. The helicopter looked small and menacing, its curved windshield looking like the giant eyes of a bug. Talia clutched Sofia’s hand harder.
She really didn’t think she could do this.
Angelos climbed into the helicopter, and then reached down first for Sofia’s hand. Talia watched as the little girl clambered easily inside and then sat down. Angelos turned back to her, the wind whipping about him, his hand outstretched. Talia simply stared.
‘Miss Di Sione,’ he shouted over the noise of the propeller blades. ‘Take my hand.’
Talia’s heart was pounding painfully, and her palms were icy and damp with sweat. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t deal with confined spaces, ones where it was impossible to get out. A closed door, a dark room, a locked car...she avoided them all. And the passenger jet she’d been on a few hours ago had been hard enough, but a helicopter...
And then suddenly she thought of Giovanni smiling at her as he’d given her his instructions. ‘I know you will try your hardest. And you will succeed.’
Taking a deep breath, she reached for Angelos’s hand and then she let him pull her up into the helicopter. She practically collapsed into her seat, her legs rubbery and her heart thudding sickly. She had just managed to jam her seat belt together when the helicopter lifted off the building and began its ascent into a cloudless blue sky, heading for the Aegean Sea.
ANGELOS STUDIED HIS new nanny, noting dispassionately how pale she’d gone, her eyes closed as she leaned back against the seat and took several deep, even breaths. What on earth was the woman’s problem?
‘Do you suffer from travel sickness?’ he asked abruptly, raising his voice to be heard above the noise of the helicopter, and her eyes flew open.
‘No.’
‘Then why do you look so terrible?’
‘You’re quite the flatterer, aren’t you,’ she muttered, and Angelos stared at her, nonplussed.
‘You look as if you are about to be sick.’
‘You’d better hope I’m not,’ Talia answered, and he grimaced in distaste.
‘Indeed, I do. It would make for a most unpleasant journey.’
‘That it would.’ Talia let out a shuddering breath as she shifted in her seat. ‘And it’s already pretty awful.’
‘You do not like helicopters.’
‘No.’ She’d closed her eyes again, her face scrunched up, and Angelos inspected her for another moment. Her hair was going curly in the heat and he could see a sprinkling of golden freckles across her nose. He wondered how old she was, and realised afresh how little he knew about her besides her name. What on earth had possessed him to hire her?
Talia opened her eyes and turned to Sofia. ‘You don’t mind helicopters,’ she remarked, and with a bit of playacting, miming the propeller blades and making a face, she communicated her meaning.
Sofia grinned. ‘Home,’ she said in English. ‘I like home.’
‘I like home too,’ Talia said with a sigh. ‘But I’m sure I’ll like yours as well.’ Sofia wrinkled her nose, not understanding, and Talia leaned over and patted her hand before she sank back against the seat and closed her eyes.
Angelos continued to study her for a moment, wondering how she’d ended up in his office. How had she even heard of the advertisement, and why had she come without a CV? Questions, he decided, he would not ask her in the noisy confines of the helicopter, with Sofia trying to catch every word. He would have time to discover just who his new nanny was later, and make sure she was an appropriate companion for his daughter.
His gaze moved to Sofia; she was leaning towards the window, watching the sea slide by. She never liked leaving the safety of Kallos, and she seemed to shrink even more into herself whenever he took her to Athens. He knew people stared at her scarred face, and the attention made Sofia embarrassed and exceedingly shy. He was grateful that Talia Di Sione, for all her idiosyncrasies, had not once made Sofia feel ashamed of her scar.
‘Look, Papa,’ Sofia called in Greek, and he leaned forward to see a sleek white sailboat cutting through the blue-green waters.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, and then glanced back at Talia. She still had her eyes closed. Impulsively he reached over and touched her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she jerked upright as if he’d branded her with a hot poker.
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘I just thought you might appreciate the view.’
‘I’d
