Page 50 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

‘How was your flight?’ he asked her.

He kept his tone even, neutral, and she answered in kind.

‘Fine,’ she said.

She made to pull away, but he kept his hand on her forearm. It was as tense as steel.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Well, there’s another one ahead of you.’

He started to guide her forward, but she balked.

‘What do you mean?’

He paused, looking down at her. ‘I mean,’ he said, still keeping his voice neutral, ‘we are going on our honeymoon.’

He saw her face whiten even more.

He cut across the protest rising on her lips. ‘I have things to say to you, and they cannot be said in Athens.’

Rebuff flashed in her eyes. ‘I don’t want to hear them!’

‘Tough,’ he said.

He was in no mood to give any quarter. He’d steeled himself for this and he would see it through. He must.

He took a swift, incisive breath. ‘You’re going to hear them even if I have to shout them out loud to you in the middle of this airport, for all the world to hear! But the best place to hear them requires a flight—a short one—by helicopter.’

She was resistant still. That was obvious. And it was obvious why. He didn’t care.

‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘Are you going to agree? Or do we stand here arguing in the middle of Arrivals?’

Her face was set, but she made no more verbal resistance.

‘Good,’ he said again. ‘The heliport is this way.’

He guided her forward, still in possession of her carry-on. His touch was light, but insistent.

Essential.

Just like the destination they were heading to.

Calanthe strained away from Nikos in the close confines of the helicopter now speeding its way across the Aegean. Where they were heading, she neither knew nor cared. A profound weariness was washing over her and it was not just to do with the flight from Berlin that morning. It was a weariness of the spirit that went so deep inside her it was part of her very being.

It had been a part of her for a long, long time.

For eight long years.

Dully, she gazed out of the window. An island group was nearing, and the helicopter started to dip down towards one of the islands. It touched down on a characteristic large H, with nothing much around it except a marina. It looked gleaming and new, with the Greek flag flying jauntily from the harbourmaster’s office and expensive motor yachts bobbing at their moorings, as well as some sailing craft.

A sudden fear struck her—please don’t let Nikos be thinking of taking her on a yacht! In such tiny confines, with a crew all around them...or, worse, no crew at all, just her and Nikos...

As she jumped down from the helicopter after him, ignoring his outstretched hand, he led the way to a waiting taxi. She got in as Nikos stashed her carry-on and his own grip bag in the boot. As the taxi drove off she shut her eyes, glad that Nikos made no attempt to talk to her. But she had to open them perforce, a short while later, when the taxi drew to a halt outside what was clearly a resort hotel.

Though attractively designed—only two storeys high and set in landscaped grounds, with the sea just visible beyond—it did not look particularly upmarket, but more for general tourist visitors. Not something Nikos would choose at all.

She went inside, where the entrance gave way to a large, airy atrium—again, attractively styled, but in no way at the level of a luxury hotel.

She turned back to Nikos, who was coming in after her with the luggage. ‘Where is this?’ she asked.

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