Page 10 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

Memory slid like a knife between his synapses.

That first night at the taverna—her knocking back the cheap local wine we were all drinking. The glow it brought to her eyes...the way she kept looking at me...could not take her eyes from me. How hard I had to work not to look only at her, as I wanted to...

He snapped the memory shut. Not now—not yet. There would be time for indulging in those memories. Maybe making new ones...

‘Yes,’ he answered his host. ‘I saw no reason for others to benefit—perhaps those less responsibly-minded than I am determined to be. By patenting globally I can ensure they are used only in areas where it is environmentally appropriate. The continued use of concrete remains, of course, controversial, and is likely only to become increasingly so.’

His host addressed a technical question to him and Nikos followed his lead.

His eyes briefly encompassed Calanthe.

There is no animation in her face. She is beautiful—exquisitely so—but like a statue. Not flesh and blood.

Again, memory stabbed. More potent this time—much more potent.

Her head thrown back, her hair cascading over the pillows, ecstasy in her face...

With even more essential self-discipline, he snapped the memory shut. Returned to a discussion about reducing the energy requirements for making concrete and the commercial implications thereof.

His host’s eyes rested speculatively on Nikos. ‘Tell me, how long do you envisage being in Athens?’

‘That will depend on how speedily the government officials decide to move during this consultation period,’ Nikos replied drily.

‘Hah, that means weeks!’

His host did not sound disapproving. Quite the reverse. He sat back, with an air of genial relaxation about him and a decided look of satisfaction in his face.

Then the maid and manservant were returning, clearing away the finished plates, serving a summer tart for dessert. As they disappeared Georgios Petranakos visibly changed gear, launching into expressing his views on the government ministers Nikos was likely to encounter during the consultation process.

Nikos paid attention—this was useful information to him—but the scrape of a chair made him turn his head. Calanthe was getting to her feet, depositing her linen napkin on the table.

‘Papa, if you will excuse me? I’m not sure I have either the stamina, or indeed the interest, to cope with the ins and outs of politicians. I must be off.’ She glanced down at Nikos. Gave a tight, unrevealing smile. ‘Kyrios Kavadis.’

She nodded.

And took her leave.

Her low heels clicked on the marble floor. She was not even waiting for her father and his guest to get to their feet and was gone in seconds.

Calanthe headed up to the curving staircase as fast as she could without actually running, clutching at the banister. It had taken all her strength to endure lunch—to sit there while Nikos Kavadis talked to her father barely more than a metre from her across the table.

Her expression contorted. And, worse, her father was obviously pleased that he’d be hanging around Athens for weeks! And she knew why he was pleased...

She pulled her thoughts away from the temptation simply to tell her father just why Nikos Kavadis was the very last man he should be encouraging in his endless matchmaking schemes. She felt her blood congeal at the thought of her father knowing...

She arrived at her bedroom and threw herself down on the bed, heart thudding. She wanted to pack...get out of Athens, get back to London. Get back to work. But her post at the museum was a job-sharing one, designed to give her time out here with her father and to put in some hours at one of the many Athenian museums on an exchange basis.

And now there was another reason to keep her in Greece. Calanthe felt an all too familiar anxiety biting at her. Her father might be playing down whatever it was his cardiologist had told him, but she could not dismiss it so easily. Her father was not well. So she could not run away just to get herself away from Nik.

She felt her hands claw into the bed-covering.

I have to tough this out. I have to! He’ll be here a while and then he’ll go. Disappear again like he did before. But this time he’ll disappear with my blessing—with my abject relief!

If she could just hold out till then...

Then it would be over.

Like it had been before.

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