mind filtered to his father; the man who would have been king if a tragic car crash hadn’t killed him prematurely along with his wife, Theseus’s mother. Lelantos Kalliakis had been exactly the kind of man his ancestors had feared taking the throne and having absolute power. Yet, regardless of how debauched and narcissistic the man had been, the Agonites had mourned him as if a member of their own family had been killed. His sons, however, had only truly mourned their mother.
‘We live in a goldfish bowl. The people here look up to my family. They revere us. Children on this island learn to read with picture books depicting tales of my ancestors. I wanted to meet real people and explore the world as a normal person would. I was curious as to how people would react to me—the man, not the Prince. So, yes, I lied to you about my true identity, just as I lied to everyone else. And if I had my time again I would tell the same lies, because they gave me a freedom I hadn’t experienced before and will never experience again.’
The majority of this speech was one he had spouted numerous times, first to his grandfather, when he’d announced his intention to see the world, and then to his brothers, who’d seen his actions as a snub to the family name. After a lifetime of bad behaviour, when he’d effectively turned his back on protocol, taking off and renouncing the family name had been his most heinous crime of all. Even now he was still trying to make amends.
‘If I hurt your feelings I apologise,’ he added when she gave no response.
He didn’t owe Jo anything, but neither did he want working with her to be a trial. There wasn’t time to bring in anyone else to complete the biography and they’d already lost three precious days.
If getting her to soften towards him meant he had to eat a little humble pie, then so be it. He would accept it as penance for the greater good.
And, if he was being honest with himself, apologising went a little way towards easing the guilt that had been nibbling at his guts.
The only change in her demeanour was a deep breath and the clenching of her jaw. When she did speak it was through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t even know what to call you. Are you Theo or Theseus? Do I address you as Your Highness or Your Grace? Am I expected to curtsey to you?’
In the hazy realms of his memory lay the whisper of her shy smile and the memory of how her cheeks would turn as red as her hair whenever he spoke to her.
It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her to call him Theo. Being Theo had been the best time of his life...
No. He would not let those memories spring free. He’d locked them away for a reason and they could damn well stay there.
‘You can call me Theseus. And no curtseying.’
Having people bow and scrape to him turned his stomach. All his life people had treated him with a reverence he’d done nothing to earn other than be born.
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. And what a gorgeous lip it was, he thought. How eminently kissable. He’d kissed that delectable mouth once...
‘I ask you to put your bad feelings towards me to one side so we can work together effectively. Can you do that?’
After a long pause she inclined her head and her long red hair fell forward. She brushed it back and tucked it behind her ears.
‘Do you remember the night those American travellers came into Marin’s Bar?’ she asked, in a voice that was definitely milder than the tone she’d used so far. ‘You were with the Scandinavians on the big round table...’
He raised a shoulder in a shrug, unsure of what day she was speaking of. He’d hit it off with a group of Scandinavian travellers on the ferry from Split to Illya and had spent the majority of his fortnight on the unspoilt island in their company. Marin’s Bar, which was two steps from the beach, had been the only place to go, but with its excellent beer, good food and a juke box that had pumped out classic tracks, it had engendered an easy, relaxed atmosphere.
Jo and her friends, whose names he didn’t think he’d ever known, had always been on the periphery—there but in the background, rather like wallpaper.
‘They were touching us up,’ she reminded him.
‘Ah.’
Now he remembered. The Americans—college graduates taking time out before joining the corporate world—had drunk far too much of the local liquor and had started harassing Jo and her friends. He remembered there had been something nasty about it, well beyond the usual banter one might expect in such an environment. He’d taken exception to it and had personally thrown the men out, then he had insisted Jo and her friends join him and his friends at their table.
And now her face did soften. Not completely—her cheeks were still clenched—but enough that her lips regained their plumpness. They almost curled into a smile.
‘You stepped in to help us,’ she said. ‘Whether you were there as a lie or not, in that one aspect it doesn’t matter. You did a good thing. I’ll try to hold on to that whenever I feel like stabbing you. How does that sound?’
A bubble of laughter was propelled up his throat, startling him. He quickly recovered.
‘I think that sounds like an excellent start.’
She rocked her head forward. ‘Good.’
‘But just in case you ever do feel like stabbing me I’ll be sure to hide all the sharp objects.’
The plump lips finally formed into a smile and something dark flickered in her eyes, but was gone before he could analyse it.
‘It’s a deal. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe this is the perfect cue for me to go back to my apartment and carry on reading Fiona’s work.’
‘Will you be ready to start writing in the morning?’
‘That’s very unlikely—I’m only two-thirds through and I still need to familiarise myself with the research papers. What I can promise is that I will have this biography completed by the deadline even if I have to kill myself doing it.’
She stepped out of the door, giving him a full view of her round bottom, perfectly displayed in the smart navy blue skirt she wore. What kind of underwear lay beneath...?
He blinked away the inappropriate thought.
Her underwear was none of his business.
But there was no denying the gauche young girl he’d known before had gone; in her place was a confident and, yes, a sexy woman.
It had been a long time since he’d considered a woman sexy or pondered over her underwear.
There was nothing wrong with admitting she had an allure about her. Thoughts and actions were different things. The days when he would already have been plotting her seduction were long gone. The Theseus who had put pleasure above duty had been banished.
The next woman he shared a bed with would be his wife.
JO GAZED AT the picture Toby proudly held up. Apparently it was
