Page 16 of Greek's Temporary Cinderella

His power over her senses was as undeniable as ever—and yet now, in the toxic aftermath of what she had done to him all those years ago, he had never been more distant...

Sadness filled her. Yes, she had decided...chosen...resolved to come to him now, like this, for the reasons she had justified to herself and for the sake of the freedom that they must somehow find from each other. It had been her choice—and yet now the reality of it weighed her down. Mocked her.

Had this been our honeymoon six long years ago...flying to Paris, newly wedded, setting off on our life’s adventure together...oh, how blissful it would have been.

Instead...

She suppressed a sigh. There was no point in looking back. She had destroyed a past that never was—now she had to cope with the present.

She took another mouthful of champagne. It would likely make her light-headed, but it would provide an insulating layer over her ragged emotions.

Leandros had got some kind of business journal out of his briefcase and was immersed in it. She was glad of it—it gave her time for her breathing to steady, her colour to subside. She helped herself to the salted almonds, feeling a pang of hunger. She’d been far too stressed to eat today, trying to summon the nerve to actually get to the airport at all. She hoped that some kind of meal would be served on the flight. Presumably there would be dinner that evening. And then afterwards, later on—

Her thoughts cut out—absolutely cut out. She could not think ahead to the coming night—dared not. The resolve she’d felt as she’d sent that fateful text to Leandros last week seemed impossible to believe in now.

She felt the aircraft push back, the engine note change. They were taxiing towards the runway. Airborne, she leant back in her seat, closed her eyes. Perhaps Leandros would think her asleep. It would be easier if he did. Though ‘easier’ was a relative term...

‘Are you all right?’

Leandros’s voice made her open her eyes, turn her head towards him. He was frowning.

‘Thank you, I’m fine,’ she said. Her voice was clipped.

‘I’ve never flown with you before,’ he said slowly. ‘When we went to Crete we went by sea.’

Memory was instant and painful. Standing on the deck of the ferry, leaning on the rail, the wind in her hair, Leandros’s arm around her, her head nestled against his shoulder, not a care in the world. And so incredibly happy.

She dropped her eyes, reached for her champagne again. No point remembering that happiness. It was gone. She had destroyed it and it could never return. Never.

‘So, are you a nervous flyer?’

She couldn’t say there was concern in his voice, but the fact that he was asking at all showed something—though what it was she had no idea.

She shook her head. ‘No, though I haven’t flown much. When my mother was alive we went to England sometimes, to visit the relatives who hadn’t objected to her marrying my father, and for her to catch up with friends from her youth. But after she died that all stopped, really. I just stayed with my father, because—’

She stopped. Her mother’s death when she was eighteen had devastated her father, and she had centred her life around him, forgoing college, keeping him company in their beautiful but isolated house out in the countryside. It had been a quiet existence.

And then one of her school friends had invited her to her twenty-first birthday party at her family villa in Glyfada, on the Athens Riviera, and she hadn’t been able to resist going, even though her father had fretted. And it had been there, out on the terrace, bathed in lights and music, guests dancing and partying, overlooking the waters of the Saronic Gulf, that she had first seen Leandros.

She had fallen for him on the spot, ineluctably drawn towards the tall, self-assured, oh-so-good-looking man in his mid-twenties, unable to tear her eyes away. He’d been talking—flirting—with a sophisticated female wearing a lot of make-up and a revealing dress, who had clearly been all over him. Then he’d glanced across the crowded terrace—and their eyes had met.

For a timeless moment the world had stopped, the music had been silenced, the noise and chatter too—and then, as if in slow motion, she’d seen him turn back to the other girl, smile pleasantly but dismissively, and make his way across the terrace. Straight to her.

He’d smiled down at her.

And she’d been lost.

That was all it had taken—for both of them.

‘Because...?’ Leandros’s prompt brought her back to the present—the present in which that enchanted past could never exist again.

She gave a tiny shrug, not wanting to think about any aspect of the past.

‘It was convenient,’ she answered.

She saw the flight attendant moving down the gangway, proffering more champagne, handing out menu cards, and held her flute out for a top-up. It was probably rash, but she felt she needed it. Then she studied the menu, choosing the chicken option. Leandros glanced briefly at his, selecting beef. Then went back to his business journal and Eliana could relax a fraction—but only a fraction. A fraction of a fraction...

The meal when it came was welcome, and she tucked in. For her, decent food, let alone gourmet food, belonged to a different life. Now Leandros was offering that life back to her—

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