‘I can afford my own clothes, thank you, Kirie Kosta,’ she said, tilting that chin of hers again.
‘Alexander,’ he reminded her. ‘And don’t be late.’
‘I’ll be there,’ she assured him with suppressed excitement.
This was just the opportunity she had been waiting for—what a shame, he thought; it really wouldn’t do her any good. ‘Ellie…’
‘Yes?’
He had been about to offer her an advance on the compensation she would receive for quitting her berth to give her funds to buy some formal clothes, but why should he? Why not let her climb out of the hole she’d dug herself? ‘Forget it,’ he said.
‘You will let me speak tomorrow?’ she said suspiciously.
‘You’ll never know if you don’t turn up, will you?’
Her eyes were round and wounded. He moved in for the kill. ‘If you’d troubled to read the papers my agent served on you, you would know the compensation I’m paying is enough for you to buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes and the best boat on the market—’
‘I already own the best boat on the market. And as for money, contrary to what you believe, it counts for nothing here—’
‘Oh, really? So the economy of this island works on a different system from the rest of the world? Get real, Ellie. Come to the meeting, or call it a day. It’s the only offer on the table—’
‘And if I don’t like the outcome?’
He gave her a look.
‘I have no right of appeal, is that right?’
She understood now.
No right of appeal? Ellie fumed. So, Lefkis was about to become a dictatorship under the heel of Alexander Kosta. Having survived the rule of one tyrant, it was going to suffer another. Her mind was in ferment as she walked briskly down the quay. Maybe she had been too long on an island surrounded by people she could trust and had lost her sense of what was and what wasn’t acceptable behaviour, but Alexander Kosta had really gone too far.
And she was going to take him on single-handedly?
Yes, if she had to; what other option did she have?
Ellie glanced up as she reached her berth. She had been distracted by the braying laughter coming from the towering white yacht moored up next to her boat. The occupants of the super-yacht would be well into their champagne by now, which meant she had another sleepless night to look forward to.
And how would Alexander sleep? Ellie wondered, gazing back at the Olympus. The last thing she wanted to think about was Alexander stretched out on his palatial bed, but…
Perhaps he never slept. Perhaps he just stood by the window, staring out at his well-packed marina, gloating over the revenue the super-yachts would bring him.
Taking hold of the familiar rope that said she was home, Ellie ground her teeth in anger as she padded lightly up the gangway. She was wasting her time imagining Alexander might one day change and use all that power he wielded for good. But she’d have another go, tomorrow at the meeting. And as for wondering if that stern face of his ever cracked a smile…
Perhaps he didn’t have any teeth…She laughed to herself.
Buoyed up by that thought, Ellie strode purposefully across the deck. Closing the hatch door behind her as she climbed down the companionway, she bolted it securely. Alexander wasn’t the only one in Lefkis who kept his life locked up tight.
Turning on the low-voltage lights that made everything so cosy, Ellie started making plans for the meeting. She suspected Alexander was only humouring her, with his decision about the race and the harbour already made, but still, she had to try to shake people out of their apathy. If she didn’t succeed Alexander’s stranglehold on the island would be complete.
Reaching inside her neatly stowed fridge, she got out a carton of milk and poured a glass. Moving back across the cabin to the porthole, she peered out. She could see the Olympus, where no doubt right now Alexander was busy ticking off another tame local willing to rubber-stamp his ideas. Big mistake. She tipped her glass in an ironic salute.
But there was nowhere else she would rather be, so she had to tread carefully and at least appear to play by his rules. The neighbouring islands were just as beautiful as Lefkis, but they didn’t exert the same hold over her. Not that she wanted to become part of some ritzy set-up, which seemed to be Alexander’s plan for Lefkis.
Ellie pulled back from the window. The thought of more conflict with Alexander had made her heart thunder uncontrollably. She’d seen the lights of the Olympus reflected in the water. Could Alexander see her staring at him?
Ridiculous! Of course he couldn’t…
Rinsing out her glass, she put it away, then, going to the small tin where she kept her cash, she counted it out. There was enough ‘just in case’ money to buy a cheap two-piece at the market, and maybe a pair of proper shoes as well…
She was on time, which he might have expected, but what on earth was she wearing? Alexander’s discerning gaze swept over Ellie’s market-stall outfit. The jacket, in an alarming shade of sludge-green, was far too small for her. Under that was a hideous pink nylon lace top. He couldn’t remember ever seeing anything quite so horrendous. But on the plus side he hadn’t seen her breasts before, and now he could see them clearly beneath the close-fitting top. They were large and pert. Very nice…
He dragged his gaze away to consider a skirt so big it had swung around her hips, leaving the slit that was supposed to be at the back at the side. She looked a mess. Not that the elderly man currently showing her to her seat seemed to notice…
He had arranged for her to sit on the front row, right under his gaze and where he could keep an eye on her. Why was the usher taking so long to settle her? What did they find to talk and laugh about? She looked relaxed. Too relaxed.
One thing puzzled him. It was clear she knew the elderly usher, but he was holding on to her arm in his enthusiasm when she’d panicked at the thought of his bodyguards touching her. It was another piece of the puzzle like the scar on her cheek…
Alexander frowned as he organised the papers in front of him. He had no time to waste on Ellie Mendoras today. She’d have her chance to speak and that would be an end of it.
‘Ms Mendoras, sit down. It isn’t your turn to speak yet.’ He couldn’t believe she was causing trouble again. She should realise that everyone here was in his camp. Maybe she did, but that hadn’t stopped her protesting. ‘Ms Mendoras!’ His voice cracked out like a blow with a gavel.
‘Mr Kosta,’ she rapped back at him to a murmur of general surprise. ‘This audience is largely composed of visitors to the island, all of whom have a vested interest in being here. I speak for the locals—’
‘I think I know that—’
‘Profit is the only
