me about it.” She got out of the chair and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “See you in Greece next week.”
“We’re coming as Mysian troubadours. Are you sure I can’t bring you a costume along with his? There’s this marvelous gold affair—Italian renaissance. I can borrow it from the opera company.”
She shook her head. “Ms. Hamilton doesn’t do costumes. It’s not in her character.”
“Pity.”
Alex chuckled. “Have a safe trip over, Michael.”
“You mean with three hundred of us on our charter flight squashed like Vienna sausages in the can? Lucky you, riding in the Pandakis private jet.”
“I’ll admit that part’s nice. Bye for now.”
She left the salon, grateful that the disguise Michael had created for her had worked perfectly during the four years she’d been in Dimitrios’s employ. She’d won the man’s confidence. But the thought that it was all she might ever win from him wasn’t to be considered.
As for her other fear, it was foolish to worry that when she arrived in Greece, Giorgio Pandakis might recognize her from the past. Not when Dimitrios had never shown any signs of remembering.
Nine years was too long a time for a man who’d been drunk to recall accosting an unsuspecting sixteen-year-old girl. Thankfully someone had been outside the silk museum in Paterson that night looking for him and had heard her screams.
Alex could still see her protector’s face as it had appeared in the shadowy moonlight. Like a dark, avenging prince, Dimitrios Pandakis himself had pulled his cousin off her before knocking him to the ground, unconscious.
Assisting her to her feet, he’d told her he would help her press charges if she wanted him to. Alex, who stood there on trembling legs thankful for deliverance, had been shocked that he would defend an anonymous teenage girl over his cousin.
Dimitrios didn’t accuse her of encouraging the situation. He didn’t try to pay her off. He showed no fear of the scandal that would naturally ensue once her father heard about it. With a name as famous as Pandakis, that kind of news would make headlines. Yet he’d been willing to put his family through embarrassment for her sake.
In that moment, she loved him.
Once her sobs began to subside, she assured him it wouldn’t be necessary to call in the police. He’d come to her rescue before things had gone too far. All she wanted was to forget it had ever happened.
After thanking him again for saving her, she ran off across the garden to her house, clutching the torn pieces of the silk blouse to her chest.
Just before she disappeared around the corner, she watched him throw his loathsome cousin over his shoulder with the ease only a tall, powerful man possessed.
Her green eyes stayed fastened on him until she couldn’t see the outline of his silhouette any longer. But even if he’d gone, the man was unforgettable.
By the time she climbed into bed that night she determined that one day, when she was older, they would meet again. It would be under vastly different circumstances, of course. And no matter what it took, she’d make certain he found her unforgettable, too.
As Dimitrios buttoned his shirt, he heard a rap on his bedroom door. Assuming it was Serilda, the housekeeper who’d been like a favorite aunt since he was a little boy, he told her to come in.
The door opened, but the usual burst of information about the weather and the state of the world wasn’t forthcoming.
Unless she’d sent a maid to him with coffee and rolls, it wouldn’t be anyone else but his nephew.
Dimitrios felt great love for the twenty-two-year old whose build and mannerisms were a constant reminder of Leonides Pandakis, Dimitrios’s deceased elder brother.
By some miracle, his pregnant bride survived the car crash that took Leonides’s life on their honeymoon. Their unborn child, christened Leon at birth, had also been spared.
Like his father, he was a happy boy with a friendly, outgoing nature. A typical teen with his share of problems, he’d survived those years and had grown into a fine young man who was halfway through his university studies and showed a healthy enthusiasm for life. Or so Dimitrios had thought.
But since Dimitrios’s return from China yesterday, he’d seen a big change in his nephew. Normally Leon sought his company at the slightest opportunity, giving him chapter and verse of anything and everything happening in his world.
This time he’d only greeted his uncle with a hug, then disappeared from the villa without a word of explanation. It was totally unlike him. Dimitrios had glimpsed shadows in the brown eyes he’d inherited from his mother.
Something was wrong, of course. He hoped it wasn’t serious. Maybe now he’d find out.
“You’re up early, Leon,” he called to him. “That’s good because I was about to come and find you. I’ve missed you and have been looking forward to one of our talks.”
After shrugging into his suit jacket, he emerged from his walk-in closet, hoping his nephew would reveal whatever had been troubling him. But when he discovered it was Ananke still in her nightgown and robe who’d crossed his threshold uninvited, revulsion rose like bile in his throat.
He’d always felt a natural antipathy toward the woman who’d tricked his brother into marriage, and never more than at this moment. Yet love for his brother’s son had tempered that destructive emotion enough for him to tolerate her presence in the villa while acting as guardian to young Leon.
Plastic surgery had removed all traces of the scars on her forehead left by the accident. Would that it could as easily erase the scars in Dimitrios’s heart. But nothing could take away the memory of a mercenary female who’d lured Leon to her bed for the express purpose of begetting a Pandakis. Because of her, his brother was dead.
Back then Ananke had been a precocious eighteen-year-old, aware of her assets and how to use them. Now she was a forty-one-year-old female, only six years older than Dimitrios. A woman most men found attractive, yet she showed no interest in them.
Not for the first time had he wondered if she was hoping to become his bride. Though she’d let it be known to family and friends that she refused to consider marriage until she saw her son settled down with a wife of his own, Dimitrios knew it was an excuse to stay on at the villa. No other man could offer her the Pandakis lifestyle.
At a recent family birthday party, his cousin Vaso had speculated with similar thoughts to him. Dimitrios’s eyes must have reflected his abhorrence of the subject because the eldest of Spiros Pandakis’s sons didn’t broach it again.
Unfortunately nothing seemed to slake Ananke’s ambition. Her temerity in seeking him out in a place as private as his own bedroom at seven in the morning gave him proof that she had few scruples left.
Out of love for his brother and nephew, he’d treated her with civility all these years. Regrettably this morning she’d stepped over a forbidden line and would know his wrath.
“You have no right to be in this part of the villa, Ananke.”
“Please don’t be angry with me. I have to talk to you before Leon finds you.” She looked like she’d been crying. “This is important.”
“Important enough to put false ideas in the minds of the staff, let alone my nephew?” he demanded in a quiet rage. “From here on out, if you have something to say to me in private, call me at my office.”
“Wait,” she cried as he swept past her and strode down the corridor toward the entrance to the villa, impervious to her pleading.
“Dimi!” She half-sobbed his nickname in an effort to detain him.
The use of the endearment only his parents and brother had ever called him had the effect of corrosive acid being poured into a wound that