the guy had not come forward—despite the enormous publicity of their marriage.
He’d find the man. Offer him enough money to silence him forever. He would do it for Pandora.
Yes, it was possible.
And he’d use this time on Kiranos to convince Pandora that they were perfect together. But first he had to overcome her fury and hatred. He just hoped he hadn’t left it too late.
After the cooling swim, Pandora returned to her room and showered the last traces of saltwater from her body before slipping into a sleek white cotton sundress with a halter neckline. From her window she watched Georgios set two deck chairs out on the terrace. Zac appeared from the house, and her breathing quickened. He paused, said something to Georgios that made the old man laugh.
Pandora skittered back, not wanting Zac to see her. But he didn’t glance up as he made for the steep stone stairs that led to the boathouse to the right of the beach.
Quickly she left her room and ran down the spiral stairway. She branched off on the level where she suspected Zac’s study might be. Two doors opened off the small landing. Her heart in her throat, she opened the first and found a gym stocked with Nautilus equipment. The second door opened into a light, airy room that was clearly set up to be an office.
It was empty.
No sign of Maria cleaning … and she’d seen Zac heading for the boathouse.
Her gaze hurriedly scanned the desk, the bookshelves, taking in the bank of computer ware, the clean, organised surfaces … but no sign of her cell phone or Zac’s.
About to leave, she noticed the flicker of the screen saver. Feeling like a thief, she scuttled around the desk and perched on the edge of Zac’s big black leather chair. With a sense of nervous elation, she hit the enter button and waited.
A document opened. Zac had not logged out. Fingers shaking, she minimised the document and hit the Internet connection icon. A home page opened. Relief and a kind of shaky guilt made her sag. She cocked her head. Only silence. No sound of the pantherlike tread of Zac’s returning footsteps.
She tapped in a Web-mail address and waited a moment before keying in her log-in and password.
Pandora stared at the screen. A list of unread messages sat in her in-box, several containing subject headers congratulating her on her marriage. No time to read them now.
Hurriedly, she clicked on the new message tab and typed in her father’s e-mail address. After a moment’s reflection, she filled Need your help into the subject line. It was much more difficult to find the words than she had expected. She wanted to tell her father that her marriage was over, that she needed him to rescue her from this mess.
But how to explain it all? She hesitated. How could she tell her father that she’d lost her virginity after some stupid visit to a nightclub with a man she’d barely known three years ago? Her father had trusted her to go stay with Nicoletta and to behave as he expected. How could she disappoint him?
And what would happen about the lucrative contract her father had signed with Zac? He’d walk away from it, putting her first.
No, she couldn’t let her private failures screw up her father’s business relationships. She had to sort this out herself. Her twenty-first birthday was less than a month away. She was an adult now, not a child who needed to run home to Daddy every time something went wrong.
Zac had brought her here against her will. To talk, he’d said. She’d been bitter, too angry to talk, and had flung her loss of virginity in his face. The diversion had worked. And she’d retreated to her room to sulk, wasting three days waiting for him to come seek her out.
It was way past time to grow up, to take control of her life and her future. She had to find Zac and have it out with him.
But first she owed her father a chatty, upbeat e-mail. He’d been so happy about her marriage. With a small sigh, she started to type.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Pandora jumped when Zac’s voice exploded behind her. Spinning the high-backed leather chair around, she blurted out, “E-mailing my father. He’ll be worried—and hurt—if I don’t keep in touch.”
“Daddy to the rescue,” Zac said, but the deep lines of tension around his mouth receded.
“I don’t need my father to fight my battles.”
The glint in his eyes changed to something that she thought might be reluctant admiration. Then he spoiled it by saying, “I want to read what you have written.”
Her chin went up. “Don’t you trust me?”
His eyes flickered to the screen.
Pandora scooted the chair forward, blocking his view of the screen. “It’s private, my communication to my father. I’m simply assuring him that I am well and that we are on an island—how do you spell Kiranos by the way? It would look strange if I didn’t get it right.”
After a fleeting hesitation Zac, spelled it out.
“Thanks.” Pandora bent her head and continued to type. Tense now, she waited for Zac to move closer, to peer over her shoulder … to stop her sending the e-mail. But he didn’t move. Finally she clicked the send button and looked up. “Done.”
Zac was watching her, a bemused expression on his face. “I’m reputed to be a suspicious, hardheaded bastard. I can’t believe that I trusted you to do that.” He shook his head and held out a hand. “Come, let’s go sit on the terrace and see the day out.”
As Pandora rose and took his hand, a deep inner tension unwound and a delicious warmth spread through her. But she suppressed the treacherous want that unfurled inside her.
She and Zac needed to talk.
Six
“Zac, if you can trust me to e-mail my father, then surely there’s no point in keeping me prisoner on this island?”
The sun was still hot on the terrace, but the shadows were starting to lengthen. For a moment Pandora thought Zac wasn’t going to respond and that the words she’d flung at his broad back would be lost in the sea wind.
Then Zac swung around from where he’d been leaning against the white railing at the end of the cobbled terrace that overlooked the Ionian Sea and let the binoculars fall. “Kiranos is hardly a prison. You didn’t enjoy your swim earlier today?”
Pandora slumped back in the deck chair Georgios had set out on the terrace along with a couple of side tables. If she were honest, she had to admit it was a pretty luxurious prison—her every whim catered for. Behind Zac, the sea lay blue and inviting. But it was a prison nonetheless. She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Swimming wouldn’t have been my first choice of things to do.”
“So what would have been your first choice of … things … to do?” The suggestiveness in his richly sensual tone made her flush.
“Certainly not that.”
His gaze raked her, reminding her of the skimpiness of the fitted dress, with its shoestring halter neckline that left her shoulders bare and dipped to reveal a generous amount of curving breast. In the wake of his gaze, the heat ran riot.
He flashed her a grin. “Sure about that?”
“Yes,” she bit out, resenting the effect he had on her body. She couldn’t help noticing how cool and assured he looked in a pair of cargo shorts and a white Polo shirt. “I’m sure. There’s lots better stuff I could be doing at High Ridge right now.”
“You’d walk away from a stay on a Greek island, sunning yourself on a private beach, in favour of winter in New Zealand? Where it’s bone-cold right now?”
Pandora hunted his face for signs of sarcasm but found none. “What good is a Greek island when you’re only there as a hostage?” she