but I’ll be back Thursday evening. I’ll get Kostas to take you to Natalia’s—she’ll make a ball dress for you.’
‘I haven’t agreed to come,’ she protested.
‘I am a prince of the land, little songbird,’ he answered with a grin. ‘If you defy my wishes I will have you locked in the palace dungeons.’
‘You’ve already said the dungeons are only a tourist attraction.’
He winked at her. ‘It will take me two minutes to appropriate the keys for them.’
He laughed at the scowl she bestowed upon him.
‘I’ll see myself out. Kali̱nýchta, little songbird.’
He might not have any intention of acting on the absurdly strong chemistry growing between them, but he could damn well enjoy her company for one evening of entertainment.
A LOUD RAP on the front door broke Amalie out of the spell she was under.
She froze, violin under her chin, bow bouncing lightly on the E string. There was only one person she knew who so vividly announced his presence with just a knock on the door.
The five days of peace without Talos had come to an end. He’d returned to Agon the previous evening but she’d had a lucky escape in that he hadn’t bothered with her. That hadn’t stopped her spending the entire evening at his gym, looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to appear. And that sinking feeling when she’d been driven back to the cottage without him having made an appearance had not been disappointment.
‘Hello, little songbird,’ he said now, with a lazy smile on his face, the mid-afternoon sun shining down on him, enveloping him in a hazy, warm aura that made her stomach flip left, right and centre. ‘Have you missed me?’
‘Like a migraine,’ she answered with a roll of her eyes, turning back into the cottage and leaving him to shut the door and follow her in, his low laughter at her quip reverberating through her.
‘Have you had a good week?’ he asked, stepping into the living room.
‘It’s been very peaceful, thank you. And yours?’
‘Incredibly boring.’
‘That’ll teach you to be a lawyer.’
Today he actually looked lawyerly. Well, more like Tarzan dressed up as a lawyer, the crisp white shirt, open at the neck, rippling over his muscular chest, and charcoal trousers emphasising the length and power of his thighs. No matter what he wore he would still emit enough testosterone to fill a dozen buckets.
‘It’s a living,’ he said, deadpan.
She couldn’t help it. She laughed. She doubted Talos Kalliakis had needed to work a single day in his life.
‘What does a man have to do to get a coffee round here?’ he asked.
‘Go to the kitchen and work the coffee machine.’
‘But I am royalty. I shouldn’t be expected to make my own coffee.’
‘I’ll have a mocha while you’re there,’ she said, only just stopping herself throwing a wink at him.
His irreverence was contagious.
His nose wrinkled. ‘I have serious doubts about your taste, knowing you drink that muck.’
She had serious doubts about her taste too. Always she’d steered herself in the direction of safe, dependable men, those with whom she could have a nice, safe, dependable life.
There was nothing safe about Talos.
That little fact didn’t stop her thinking about him constantly.
It didn’t stop her heart from hammering at a prestissimo pace by virtue of just being under the same roof as him.
Luckily he took himself off to the kitchen, allowing her a few minutes to compose herself. When he returned, carrying their coffees, she’d put her violin away and sat herself in an armchair.
He placed their cups on the table and sprawled onto the sofa. ‘I hear you’ve been going to the gym every day.’
‘I was under orders, remember?’
He grinned. ‘Melina thinks it is a shame you can’t actually fight someone in a kickboxing match.’
Likely Melina would volunteer herself for that honour. Whilst not unfriendly, there was a definite coolness in the instructor’s attitude towards her.
‘I enjoy it,’ she admitted.
The atmosphere at Talos’s gym was different from anything she’d experienced before. There was a real collective feel about it, with everyone there prepared to help everyone else. Yes, there were some big egos, but it was a different kind of egotism from the sort she was used to in the classical music world—earthier, somehow. Considering she was one of the only women there, she never felt threatened, and she didn’t think it was because everyone knew she was Talos’s guest. The atmosphere of the gym itself engendered respect in all its patrons.
‘Good. And how are you getting on with the score?’
‘Well...I think.’
He quirked his scarred brow. ‘You think?’
‘I have no way of knowing if I’m playing it as your grandmother intended.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘My interpretation of the tempo she played it at might be different from her interpretation.’
He shrugged. ‘You played the “Méditation” from Thaïs at a slower tempo than she played it, but it sounded equally beautiful.’
Talos noted the colour flush over her face, the flash of embarrassed pride that darted from her eyes.
He sat forward and rested his arms on his thighs. ‘It is time for you to play for me.’
Her colour faded as quickly as it had appeared. She seemed to cower in her seat.
‘I did say I would listen to you play today.’
She brightened. ‘I’ve recorded myself playing it. You can listen to that.’
He cocked his head and sighed theatrically. ‘I can see that working well at the gala—we’ll introduce our star soloist and wheel on a tape recorder with a wig.’
She spluttered a sound of nervous laughter.
He softened his voice, wanting to put her at ease. ‘It is only you and me. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes you make—all that matters is that today you play for me.’
There
