style="font-size:15px;"> ‘That was a close call. I don’t think we’re out of the woods yet, but at least we know there was stuff happening that you weren’t party to. This is good news.’
Good news. He nodded as the knowledge sank in. His wife had deceived him in new and even more dangerous ways. It shouldn’t really have been a surprise, but it was still painful. And what else was he going to find out?
‘I take it you’ll be out of commission for the next few hours in some kind of post-apocalyptic celebration?’
‘For your information, I’m going straight into another meeting. I’ve got someone waiting to pitch a new concession for House.’
‘A pitch? On Sunday. After what you’ve just been through?’
‘It’s no big deal. I don’t think it’ll come to anything. It’s a favour to a friend—it’s bridalwear, bespoke—not something I see working for us. It’s not the right brand, but I might be able to give her some feedback that’ll help.’
‘Sounds like just the way to unwind after averting an unaffordable tax bill, a rush on your stock and a media storm. But hey, who am I to judge?’
Nikos raised his eyebrow at Mark’s attempt at humour. He was emotionally wrung out, stressed out and jet-lagged. And now he had this to do. Mark was right. He wouldn’t be able to focus on a word she was saying. He had to just chill for a couple of hours.
‘Incidentally, I’ve doubled your security in the short term. Until all this blows over. I think it’s best to be on the safe side.’
‘Is there anyone here in Greece?’
‘Not since after the break-in. Your last-minute change of plans caught us off guard but I can get a couple of guys there if you want.’
‘It’s OK, I’ll be heading back soon. Thanks,’ said Nikos, then clicked off the phone and pocketed it. The break-in six months earlier had taken him by surprise, but it was just some opportunistic petty criminal. They’d been disturbed before they could take anything.
Still, he was glad Mark had the sense to step things up. He’d felt uneasy leaving Manhattan, but then, these days he felt uneasy everywhere. Leaving Maybury Hall he’d felt something wasn’t right, that strange car, parked too long, that just happened to stop off at Lower Linton when he did…?
He was probably getting paranoid.
He tripped down the steps to the pool, just as he caught sight of Jacquelyn, sitting under a parasol in the shade, her laptop in front of her, staring intently at the screen. Her brow was furrowed and her eyes intense, her lips moving, her hands gesticulating—she was practising her pitch to him.
Oh, man. She was all geared up and he was gearing down.
He took the last flight of steps, slowing his pace, trying to think of the best words to begin his own pitch to her. He knew his own body—he was buzzed up and he needed release. It was either sex or exercise. It wasn’t politely listening to a friend of a friend telling him about her plans to bring more fishtail wedding dresses to market.
He strode past the drained hot tub, ignoring it, and right up to the pool house, just as she noticed him. She looked up, startled, touched her hand to her chest in an endearing way. In her simple blue sundress, with broad straps over sleek shoulders, she looked good. She looked great. That was all he could think.
‘I’m so sorry!’ she said. ‘I didn’t see you there. I would have been ready for you up at the house if I’d known.’
‘I’m the one who needs to apologise, dragging you all this way and then leaving you here to fend for yourself all afternoon. Have you been OK? Got everything you need?’
‘Yes. Totally,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a lovely afternoon sitting out here. It’s the best waiting room I’ve ever been in. It’s beautiful. You’re so lucky.’
He looked around, nodding. The Aegean was particularly calm, particularly blue. Behind him sparrows were flying in and out of the bushes and hedges that screened the pool, just as they’d always done. The sun was beginning its late afternoon slide, the light that perfect hot, bright dazzle that made everything look at its best. And the pure, cool twenty metres of water right beside him looked as inviting as he’d ever seen it. It was pretty near as perfect as anywhere could be.
Jacquelyn stood up and smoothed her dress, catching his eye. He forced his gaze to remain on her face.
‘So where do you want to do this?’ she said brightly. ‘Up in the house? It’s only me and the laptop. I can fall in with whatever suits.’
He ran his hands through his hair, biting down on the adrenalin that was building in him. He didn’t want to go back in there. He didn’t want to sit down politely and listen to anything she had to say. He wanted to be out here, in the sunshine, living life, remembering Greece the way it used to be for him. He wanted to shake off the cobwebs of Maria’s death once and for all, and he couldn’t think of a more engaging woman to do it with.
‘To tell you the truth, the thing that would suit me most now is just to chill for a while. I’ve been on the go for hours and I need to unwind.’
He glanced at the pool house and her eyes followed his, widening when she looked back at him.
‘How about we shelve the business talks for a bit? I don’t think that tagging on a pitch right now is going to be the best idea—we both need to be clear-headed. What do you say?’
He winced as the words came out of his mouth. She was going to be more and more convinced that there was a crock of gold at the end of this rainbow when, really, it was much more likely to be a crock of something else.
‘Well, yes. Of course. I don’t want to get in the way. I’ll fall in with your plans. You were good enough to invite me here in the first place—I’m just happy to get the chance.’
Why did that irritate him slightly? That she was glad only to be here for her five-minute pitch? He wanted her to want to be here because he was Nikos Karellis the man, not the CEO of House. He opened a bottle of water and splashed some into two glasses, handing her one.
‘You need to stop apologising for yourself. Would be my first piece of business advice. If what you’ve got to offer is worthwhile, people will be prepared to wait for it.’
Her lips formed a surprised ‘oh’ and he was sure she was about to start with another apology but she clamped her mouth closed.
‘Thanks for the advice, then,’ she said, taking the glass and putting it straight down on the table.
‘You’re welcome. Always better to say thanks for your patience than to apologise for holding someone up. It’s assertive. Someone in your position needs to be very assertive.’
‘I’ve never had any complaints before,’ she said, and he noted as she drew herself up. He noted because the slight movement drew his eyes to the curves under her dress, the way it creased and hugged and flattered.
‘I’m sure you haven’t had many complaints at all,’ he said, and he meant it innocently enough, but in the pause that extended now between them, in the moment in which they each regarded the other, the unmistakeable heat of sexual tension began to bloom. He
