she could see the strange smile twisting his face, adding a cynical edge that caused her temper to flare higher.
“That was last night,” she bit out. “Before I discovered that you’d misled me. Used me. I hate you, you know that? I’ve never said that to anyone in my life before. But I mean it—I really, really hate you.”
The caustic, knowing smile vanished. For a second, stark shock flared in his eyes and he looked shaken by her response. A shadow fell across his face and all emotion leached out, leaving his gloriously sensual features hard and cold.
“Get a hold of yourself, Pandora. You’re starting to sound hysterical.”
The icy tone shook her. He spun away, and to her consternation Pandora watched as he strode across the flat rooftop, his suit jacket flapping in the wind. Anguish twisted inside her. How had it come to this? What had happened to the affinity, the sense of rightness between her and Zac?
Had he ever cared about her?
Or had it all been an elaborate charade?
Before they’d left Athens he’d said he was taking her somewhere they could talk. A quick look around the castellated parapets, sheer, steep white walls that ended on a slab of black rocks licked by the lazy sea far below revealed this was not quite the kind of venue she’d had in mind. Jeez, not even Rapunzel would’ve gotten out of here. Where on earth were they?
All she knew was that this godforsaken place was where Zac intended to have their showdown. She set her jaw and vowed not to let him walk all over her. She had some stuff to say to him, too. Her stomach turned over just thinking about that. But what choice did she have? Straight talk was all that was left.
And then she’d be off home to New Zealand on the very next flight. And Zac Kyriakos, his handsome face, gorgeous body and immense wealth could go to hell. She wasn’t staying married to a man who didn’t love her.
Ahead, Zac disappeared through an arch into the castle. Or eyrie. Or whatever this whitewashed structure was. Pandora was annoyed to find herself scurrying in his wake. She paused in the shadows at the top of a set of stone stairs that spiralled down into the heart of some kind of tower where wall sconces lit the whitewashed walls. Zac was already two levels down, his footfalls ringing against the hard stone.
“What about my luggage?” she called down.
“Georgios will attend to it,” Zac tossed over his shoulder without slowing his pace.
“I hate you.”
The staccato beat of his shoes against the stairs drummed the horrible words into a crazy kind of rhythm inside Zac’s head and left him reeling.
I hate you. I hate you. The echo grew louder and louder until he wanted to bang his forehead against the curving walls of the tower that surrounded him and watch the stone to crumble into dust … the way his dreams had.
But he couldn’t. He was Zac Kyriakos. That kind of behaviour did not become him. So he squared his shoulders like the man he was, the man he’d been born and raised to be, and tried to convince himself that it wasn’t relief that coursed through him when at last Pandora’s footfalls sounded on the stone stair treads far above.
Good, she was following.
He slowed his pace a fraction. There’d been a moment after they’d disembarked from the helicopter when he’d wondered if she would. But she’d given in. He told himself that he’d never expected any other outcome, never doubted she would do exactly as he wanted.
Even though she hated him.
Zac was waiting when Pandora finally exited the stairwell onto a wide terra-cotta-tiled landing that branched off to a narrow kitchen on one side and a huge sitting area to the other. Pandora caught a glimpse of stainless steel and pale marble bench tops in the unexpectedly modern galley-style kitchen before Zac gestured her forward.
“This way.” He spoke in a cold, distant tone, and nerves balled her stomach in a tight knot.
She followed him into a large, airy space—and gasped at the sight of the sunset-streaked sky. Glassed on three sides, the space gave an impression of height and light and freedom, of seeing the world from the perspective of a gull in the sky. A rapid scan of her surroundings revealed a pair of long ivory leather couches separated by a heavy bleached-wood coffee table. An immense cream flokati rug added softness to the room without breaking the monochromatic colour scheme. Like the stairwell, the walls in here were covered with rough plaster and washed with white. And nothing detracted from the incredible impact of the sky and sea turned gold by the setting sun.
Except the brooding man standing an arm’s length from her.
Pandora gave him a quick glance and looked away, a frown pleating her brow. So he was affronted because she didn’t want him near her? Because she’d lashed out that she hated him? What the hell did he expect given the way he’d behaved?
Kidnapping her.
Thrusting her into that flying monster.
Agitated, she brushed back the tendrils of hair that the buffeting wind on the rooftop had tousled. “You know, I haven’t been up in a helicopter for years.” Her voice shook with a mixture of anguish and rage and long-suppressed emotion.
He swivelled on his heel, arrogance in every line of that hard, lean body, and balled his hands on his hips, watching her from behind inscrutable eyes. “I really don’t care about the last time you went joyriding.”
“God, I hate you!”
Pandora itched to smack that insolent, cold-as-marble mask. But her hands were trembling so much she doubted she would succeed. Where had she ever gotten the idea that his eyes were tender, loving? That the hard slash of his mouth revealed passion and humour? That this stranger loved her?
The urge for straight talk that had raised its head less than ten minutes ago vanished. He didn’t deserve any explanation of her terror. He didn’t deserve to hear about … about … about the other stuff she needed to tell him. His thuggish behaviour, his lack of consideration for her, had put him beyond the pale. She didn’t owe him a thing. He could take his talk and stick it where it hurt most—she wasn’t staying around.
Reaching for her handbag, Pandora struggled to unzip it. Her shaking fingers groped and encountered the smooth cover of her cell phone. She pulled the phone out, clutching it like a lifeline.
“I’m going to phone my father and then this nonsense is going to stop. He’ll send someone to come fetch me.”
Zac’s gaze dropped to the phone in her hand. “There’s no reception on the island.”
“The island? We ‘re on an island?” Pandora’s voice rose until she could hear the shrill tinge of hysteria he’d mentioned so scathingly.
“Yes, Kiranos. My hideaway. Only my close family knows of its existence. It’s where I come to unwind. No phones, no bodyguards—only the simple pleasures in life.” The gaze that rested on her face was filled with grim contemplation. “Just peace and quiet.”
“I don’t believe that!” She swept a quick look around and then out over the expanse of sea. And swallowed. “You’re far too important to put yourself out of reach.”
