is my favourite Greek island,’ he said, as they strolled together through the labyrinthine paths. There was no need to rush. Sunset was still some time away, despite the jockeying already going on for positions. ‘Perhaps my favourite place in the world.’
‘Mine too,’ she said.
‘Is that so? Then we have something in common. This is a good place to start, don’t you think?’
She smiled in a way that told him she was amused rather than impressed. ‘I’m sure it’s a favourite for many people in the world.’
‘True,’ he conceded, knowing he still had work to do. She’d agreed to dinner but she was still wavering, he could see, still cautious. But she’d come around. It wasn’t as if it were a chore to charm her. He’d been speaking the truth to her over coffee. When she smiled, her face came alight, her surprisingly blue eyes dancing, and the most surprising discovery of all—dimples in her cheeks either side of her lush mouth, that turned classically beautiful into bewitching.
And then there was the way she moved. Wearing a cute nineteen-fifties-inspired sundress, with wide shoulders and full skirt all cinched in at the waist to accentuate the slim form that lay beneath, she moved with model grace, the sway of her hips sending the skirt of her dress in a seductive motion that had him already itching to peel it off.
No, it would be no hardship bedding her. No hardship at all. And before she knew it, she’d be so busy luxuriating in the glow of the loved, he’d relieve her of her fortune without her even noticing.
And by the time she did, revenge would be his.
It was perfect.
The sun was slipping lower in the sky, couples and groups of tourists already staking their claim for what they thought the best vantage point from which to witness the sun dipping into the sea in all its molten glory.
He made small talk as they wended their way through the town, keeping it light, making way when another train of tired donkeys lumbered home past them, their brightly coloured tassels swaying on their foreheads.
‘Here we are,’ he said, stopping at a locked gate on the caldera side of the path. He punched in a number and pushed it open, making way for her.
He saw the surprise on her face when she registered that they were outside a palace, a remnant of the Venetian occupation of Santorini in centuries long past. ‘I thought we were going to a restaurant. But this...’
‘Is a very private restaurant.’
She turned to him, her blue eyes confused. ‘But this is a home. A palace.’
‘With the best views in Thera. I’m staying here.’
‘Staying here? Like a guest?’
He answered with a welcoming sweep of his arm. ‘Come inside, I’ll show you the view from the terrace.’
She stayed exactly where she was, half inside the gate and half outside, her head tilted to the side. ‘Who are you?’
‘I told you. My name is Alexios. Alexios Kyriakos.’ He looked at the still-open gate behind her. ‘The gate isn’t locked from the inside, but I can always leave the gate open, if you prefer, if you think you might need to escape.’ He paused for one heavily weighted second. ‘If you don’t trust me, that is.’
He swore she almost blushed at his mention of trust. Of course, she trusted him now. She shook her head, looking contrite, pushing the loose tendrils of her hair back behind her ears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge today, especially after what happened at the café. There’s no need to leave it open, of course.’ And she moved out of the way so he could shut the gate.
He didn’t show her inside. Instead he ushered her along a path that wove around the side of the building that opened onto an expansive terrace with a breathtaking view of the islands that made up the broken circle of the caldera, formed in the massive eruption of the volcano beneath thousands of years before. Below them, the almost sheer wall of layered volcanic residue fell away so it felt as if they were suspended over the very edge of the crater. And there, in the gap between the islands, hovered the setting sun, dipping inexorably on its journey towards the sea.
She leaned her hands down on the balustrade, turning her face into the breeze that rushed up the sides of the cliffs, and breathing in the fresh salt air. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘Isn’t it?’ He hung back, his hands in his pockets. He didn’t crowd her. He didn’t hover by her side. He wanted her to feel secure. Safe. It was his pleasure now to watch her. And wait for the right moment.
She turned towards him, the setting sun picking up the golden flecks in her blue eyes, turning them to jewels. Oh, he could wait for the right moment, just so long as he didn’t have to wait too long.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘while we wait for the sun to perform its magic, perhaps you would like to eat.’ He waved his arm behind, where the doors of the palace had been flung open, to reveal a table set for two dressed in white.
Her brows drew together as she took in the scene. ‘How is this possible when we only met this afternoon?’
He smiled, loving her suspicious mind. If only she knew. ‘The staff were expecting me for dinner,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I simply called from the café after you agreed to dine with me to ensure there would be enough for two.’
She wandered closer to the table, set with crystal glasses and silverware and tiny vases filled with fresh thyme and rosemary, the scent wafting on the warm breeze like the sheer curtains billowing behind the doorways.
‘You understand now why I had no desire to keep this all to myself?’
She nodded. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’
‘Then please sit, and eat, and afterwards we shall enjoy the sunset together.’
As if on cue, the serving staff appeared, delivering warm breads and freshly made dips to the table, followed by pan-fried saganaki cheese topped with balsamic figs along with the freshest baby squid, an array of grilled meats and all washed down with the finest Santorini Vinsanto wine.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, at one point, leaning back in her chair, her glass of wine in her hand.
He raised his own glass to her. ‘It is my pleasure.’
‘Tell me,’ she asked, leaning forward after taking a sip of wine, ‘why is it that you are here, all alone on Santorini?’
‘I am here primarily for business.’
She arched an eyebrow at that, an obvious question. ‘Not,’ he added, ‘that I have a wife or girlfriend I could have brought to accompany me.’
‘And why is that?’ she asked, gesturing glass in hand to the palace behind and the spectacular caldera view before them. ‘When clearly you are a man of means—and, as you are no doubt aware, not entirely unpleasant looks.’
He cocked an eyebrow. ‘“Not entirely unpleasant”? That is good news, indeed. But as to your question, I’m afraid I’ve been too much of a workaholic. Driven, some might say.’
