Page 53 of Reclaimed By His Billion-Dollar Ring

He crossed to the door, holding it open for her. She walked past him, burningly conscious suddenly of what she was wearing. Her suitcase contained only clothes appropriate for a conference, not a holiday resort. So she’d been glad to discover from the hotel guide left in the villa that there was a beach shop off the central atrium.

She’d waited until she’d heard Nikos leave the villa—he’d called out, in a deceptively casual tone, that he was going to catch a swim—and then warily made her way up to the hotel. She’d had to walk past the huge oval pool that dominated the gardens. There had still been some people in it, although not many at that late hour of the afternoon, but the only one she’d had eyes for was the swimmer who had been steadily ploughing the long length of it with a rhythmic, powerful freestyle.

Her breath had caught. His scything arms had sent up showers of water that caught the light of the lowering sun, creating a halo around his head, turning alternately left and right to draw breath as he swam. His powerful legs had threshed the water. She hadn’t been able to see his body beneath the water. Only his shoulders, the upper part of his back. Bare and sculpted.

And so, so familiar.

She’d wrenched her gaze away, hurried her footsteps. As she’d walked up the shallow steps that led up to the terrace in front of the hotel she’d glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of the fencing around the tennis courts in the distance. Beneath their black surface lay the excavated remains of the dig, its contours mapped, its layout recorded, contents salvaged, and its presence now protected by the layer of hard standing carefully covering it.

But it was still there, deep beneath.

The past was always present, however deeply buried by the years...

Emotion had plucked at her, seeking entrance, but she’d held it back. Not giving it entrance. Nikos had brought her here, to a place she would never have set foot in again, and she had come, unknowing until it had been too late. But that did not mean she would not do her desperate best to protect herself. However hopeless the prospect.

The beach shop off the atrium had been full of buckets and spades, snorkelling kits and swimsuits. But there had also been some beachwear, and she had made her selection. She was wearing it now—a light cotton sundress in blue, with an elasticated waist and shoulder line.

The trouble was, she realised with a shimmer of dismay, the sundress was far too much like the outfit she’d worn to wow Nikos all those years ago.

Had he spotted the resemblance? She did not know and would not let herself care. He knew now, after what she had hurled at him on that hideous farce of a wedding night, that what he had done to her had exploded, for ever, whatever arrogant ambitions he’d had to win her back.

As for herself... Oh, dear God—now she was to suffer all over again. Eight years ago she had loved Nik, not knowing the depths to which he would stoop. And now—now she didn’t even have that comfort...

The knowledge tortured her. But she must endure it.

Emotions swirled within her, powerful and chaotic and unnameable, each and every one of them unbearable.

‘It’s along here,’ she heard Nikos say as he guided them forward, back up towards the pool, glowing iridescently now with underwater lights. There were a few last swimmers splashing around in it before it closed for the night.

Nikos led the way in the other direction from where the distant tennis courts lay, down a pathway that meandered and then opened into a clearing in which a kiosk-style building declared itself to be the bistro. An appetising smell wafted from it.

‘It seems to specialise in pizzas,’ Nikos said wryly. ‘Do you mind?’

Calanthe shook her head and he pulled out a chair for her at one of the outdoor tables set on a spacious circular paved area edged by oleander and bougainvillea. It was prettily lit by the lights strung around and suspended from wooden poles where more fairy lights were wound. Most of the tables were occupied by families, and she could catch various languages—from Greek and Italian to English and German.

She glanced across at the other diners. Happy people, happy families, on happy holidays...

Did her expression change as she looked at them...wondering, with a stab she wished she did not feel, whether she would ever have that herself?

Will it ever be mine? A husband to love me as I love him, and children for us both to love and make happy childhoods for?

Her expression hardened, and there was anguish in her suddenly averted eyes. Well, it would never be with Nik.

That stab of anguish was like a dagger in her heart—her stupid heart, broken all over again.

‘Looks like this is a popular place—it’s nice to see holidaymakers enjoying themselves,’ she heard Nikos remark as a smiling young waitress plopped laminated menus down in front of them, ready to take their drinks order.

‘We do our best.’ The waitress smiled. ‘The season’s ending now, but we’ve been full on all summer.’

Nikos smiled at her. ‘That’s good,’ he said.

Calanthe could see the waitress revelling in the impact of Nikos’s smile.

He made me feel beautiful—warmed me with his smile...beguiled me with his kisses... Until—

She cut off her thoughts. There was no point remembering now. She knew what he was. And he knew that she knew.

He was relaxing back in his chair, still smiling at the young woman. ‘I’ll take a slice of the credit, I think. I worked here years ago, when it was nothing but a building site!’

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