control was admirable, but his eyes were dark, almost chillingly still. ‘If I were to offer the same query following your return from a business dinner, your answer would be?’
She didn’t hesitate. ‘Get stuffed.’
‘An eloquent phrase.’
Katrina turned towards the sink and jettisoned the remains of her tea. ‘Forget polite.’ She rinsed the cup and placed it in the dishwasher. ‘Let’s just stick with good morning and goodnight.’
‘You think that will work?’
Why did she get the feeling he was at least one step ahead of her?
‘The alternative is a war zone.’
‘Battles won and lost?’
She gave him a long, considering look. ‘It’s not about whether you win or lose, but how you play the game.’
‘An interesting analogy.’
‘Isn’t it?’ She turned away from him and stepped towards the door. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Sleep well, pedhaki mou.’
His cynical drawl echoed in her mind as she ascended the stairs, and even in the relative safety of her bedroom the affectionate endearment recurred as a repetitive taunt.
Consequently sleep proved an elusive captive, until exhaustion overcame the many scenarios she plotted against him.
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