Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. He could imagine the situation. Petro being efficient and instructing staff to monitor personal messages. Had he red-flagged Isla’s name?

Friend Petro might be, and well-intentioned, but tonight his ears would blister when Theo rang him to discuss the difference between help and unwanted interference.

‘You sent an email and got a reply from Petro? He threatened to report you to the police for harassment?’

Dull eyes held his. She shrugged. ‘Yes. An email with a letter as follow-up, in case I didn’t understand the first time.’

Theo erupted from his seat, crossing the small room in three paces. Why hadn’t Petro told him? Why take it upon himself?

The answer was simple. Petro was one of the few people who understood the full enormity of what he faced. Not only proving his innocence so charges would be dropped and he could be free. But protecting his family through the aftermath of that dreadful night in Athens, and again taking up the reins of a multibillion-dollar business that had suffered from the fallout.

Theo had come to London for one day only, all he could spare. He was needed in Greece as deals suddenly turned sour and negotiations stopped because people didn’t want to deal with a company run by a social pariah. What hurt most was the way his previous good reputation and the company’s name for excellence counted for so little.

He swung around to find Isla watching him. No wonder she’d been furious.

‘I apologise. I didn’t know.’ He shoved his hands in his pockets, ignoring the urgent desire to take her hands in his. ‘I had no idea you were treated that way, but I take full responsibility. Petro works for me. His actions reflect on me.’

Nothing had prepared Theo for the shock of being accused of murder. Yet the writhing feeling of discomfort and shame was stronger now as he took in Isla’s drawn features.

What was she thinking? He couldn’t read her. That was another disturbing change. Once there’d been such affinity between them.

Theo cut off that line of thought. It was fruitless. He paced closer and her gaze tracked the movement.

‘Do you believe me?’

‘Maybe.’ Her head tilted. Then finally, ‘Yes.’

She didn’t sound happy or relieved. Theo opened his mouth then snapped it shut. He couldn’t expect her to welcome him with open arms.

‘And you believe that I wasn’t responsible for the death of Spiro Stavroulis’s grandson?’

When she hesitated, something inside him died a little. His chest tightened. He’d weathered doubt and suspicion from the press, business colleagues and acquaintances. Yet this woman’s doubt, the negation of her previous trust, affected him deeply.

‘I can give you proof. A document from the prosecutor.’

Finally, when every taut muscle screamed at breaking point, Isla nodded. ‘I believe you.’ Then she ruined it by adding, ‘After all, it’s easy enough to check.’

Theo rocked back on his feet as if she’d punched him in the gut.

He stared down at her as if he’d never seen her before. Certainly she wasn’t the woman he’d known.

Her rich, chestnut hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. His fingers twitched at the sense memory of those silky waves caressing his skin. Of burying his face in rosemary-scented hair. Her heart-shaped face was flushed yet still looked too delicate. As he watched she deliberately lifted it to look down her neat nose at him from eyes that gave nothing away. Her generous mouth was held tight and flat.

Didn’t shewantto believe him innocent?

For several heartbeats shock held him still. Then he realised what he was doing, brooding over how he was perceived when the most urgent issue was Isla’s health.

He pulled out his phone.

‘Who are you calling?’

‘My assistant. It’s not late. I’m sure with some persuasion we can see a top specialist here in London tonight.’

Isla was on her feet. ‘There’s no need. Ihavea doctor.’

‘They’re not doing a very good job.’

‘Who do you think you are, coming here and making judgements?’