he wasn’t so desperate or deprived that he needed to fantasise about his nanny.
Shaking his head in self-disgust, he left his study and headed back upstairs. The hall was quiet, no light shining from under any of the doors. His body now firmly under control, Angelos walked past Talia’s bedroom to his daughter’s, quietly opening the door and slipping inside the darkened room.
Sofia was asleep in bed, her knees tucked up to her chest, one hand resting palm upwards on the pillow next to her face. Lying as she was, her scarred cheek against the pillow, she almost looked whole. Healthy in both mind and body. Angelos could almost believe she hadn’t been burned, that he hadn’t damaged his daughter for ever.
Gently he smoothed a tendril of curly dark hair, hair just like Xanthe’s, away from her forehead. She stirred slightly, her lips pursing in a frown before her expression smoothed out and she settled back into sleep.
‘S’agapo, manaria mou,’ he whispered. His little lamb. With a sad smile Angelos touched his daughter’s cheek and then quietly left the room.
TALIA WOKE TO sunlight streaming through the latticed shutters of her bedroom and the sound of the surf outside. Buoyed by both the light and sound, she threw off the covers and went to the window, opening the shutters wide.
The sight that greeted her was enough to make her sigh in pure pleasure. Sunlight gilded a perfect paradise: blue-green waters and soft white sand, the riot of pink and red flowers tumbling all the way to the beach. Leaning her elbows on the sill she inhaled the scents of flowers and sand and sea, the prospect and possibilities of the next six weeks filling her with something close to joy.
When had she last had an adventure or felt excitement at what the day might bring? Smiling at the thought, she reached for her smartphone to send a quick email to her grandfather.
Arrived in Greece safely. Having a surprising and wonderful time.
Love, T.
Tossing her phone on the bed, she acknowledged that she wasn’t actually having a wonderful time. Yet. The memory of her dinner last night with Angelos and his scathing assessment of her still stung. But Angelos was leaving today, and she’d be spending most of her time with Sofia. Wonderful might be just around the corner.
She was just getting dressed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt when the loud, insistent sound of a helicopter starting up sent her to the window again. She watched as the helicopter she’d flown in last night lifted off the helipad and like some large, ugly insect rose in the sky and began to move away.
Angelos was leaving already? It wasn’t even eight in the morning. Clearly he couldn’t wait to get away from Kallos, a thought that made her frown. She wondered how much time Angelos spent with his daughter, if any. And then she reminded herself, as Angelos had told her last night, that it wasn’t her concern.
Dressed, her hair caught back in a practical ponytail, Talia headed downstairs. She found Maria in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for lunch. She barely glanced at Talia before nodding to the table, where two places had been set. Talia could see from one of the settings that Sofia had already eaten, and so she sat at the other and spooned yogurt and honey into a bowl.
‘Sofia?’ she asked the housekeeper, searching for some of the Greek phrases she’d tried to memorise. ‘Apu pu iste?’ she tried, and Maria looked at her, clearly amused.
‘Where am I from?’
‘Oh.’ Talia stared at her, nonplussed. ‘You speak English.’
‘A bit,’ Maria answered. ‘I am from Naxos.’
‘Sorry, I meant where Sofia is. Currently.’ Talia shook her head. ‘I admit, my Greek is severely limited. But last night you seemed like you didn’t speak English at all.’
‘Well.’ Maria let out a huff of breath. ‘I wasn’t sure of you.’
Talia laughed at that. ‘And now you are?’
‘No,’ Maria answered bluntly, ‘but you didn’t make eyes at Kyrie Mena last night, so I am reassured that you are not trying to seduce him.’
‘Seduce...’ Talia nearly choked on her mouthful of yogurt. ‘I most certainly am not. He is doing his best to terrify me though.’
Maria nodded sagely. ‘That is what Kyrie Mena does. And rather well.’
‘You speak more than a bit of English,’ Talia exclaimed, and Maria smiled slyly.
‘I’m a quick learner.’
Talia laughed again and shook her head. Somehow she seemed to have made an ally of the housekeeper, and for that she was glad. She had a feeling she would need allies. ‘So...are you telling me that some of the other nannies have tried to...to seduce Kyrie Mena?’
Maria pursed her lips and then turned back to her vegetables, beheading a bunch of carrots with one swift chop. ‘You could say that. If a woman crawls naked into a man’s bed, it is a seduction, ne?’
This time Talia did choke on her yogurt. She grabbed a napkin and pressed it to her mouth, gazing at Maria in stunned disbelief. ‘Not really...’ she finally managed.
Maria nodded grimly. ‘It is true. The woman was shown the door that night. Kyrie Mena did not even wait until morning to have her back on the mainland.’ She gave Talia a quick, sideways glance. ‘But I do not gossip.’
‘No, of course not.’ Talia took another spoonful of yogurt, her mind now full of rather salacious images of some eager nanny spread out like a centrefold, lying in wait for Angelos. And Angelos coming into his darkened bedroom, loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt...
Before she could stop herself she was imagining his brisk strip tease, the way he’d shrug out of a shirt, and how solid and muscular his chest would be, the moonlight casting silver shadows over his olive skin...
Good grief. A blush rose to Talia’s face as she realised just how far she’d strayed into fantasy territory. And about Angelos Mena of all people, whom she didn’t even like. He certainly had no regard for her. What on earth was she thinking?
‘Sofia is upstairs,’ Maria said, and Talia was grateful for the distraction. ‘She is waiting for Ava, who comes for her lessons.’
Talia nodded and quickly finished her breakfast, taking her dishes to the sink before going in search of Sofia.
She still felt weirdly affected by that stupid little fantasy, as if someone might be able to guess the nature of her thoughts just from looking at her. All right, Angelos Mena was a handsome man. A very handsome man. A stunningly virile and sexy man, fine. And maybe she had extremely limited experience with the opposite sex. A boyfriend at seventeen, a couple of kisses. So what?
It didn’t mean she had to fantasise about the first good-looking man who came into her orbit. And anyway, it wasn’t as if Angelos Mena was the first good-looking man she’d ever seen. William Talbot III, whose portrait she had painted just a few months ago, was very attractive. Admittedly, he thought so too, and he’d insisted on being painted with his golf clubs and two yappy terriers, but still. He was, objectively speaking, a good-looking man.
But he was, Talia acknowledged wryly, no Angelos Mena.
She walked down the hallway, checking several spare rooms, before she finally found Sofia in a large, airy room at the end of the hall, its gabled windows overlooking the sea. Sofia was curled up in the wide window seat, looking out at the glittering waters.
‘Kalimera,’ Talia tried as she came into the room. Sofia turned to look at her, smiling shyly although Talia could still see sorrow in her big, dark eyes.
‘Hello.’
‘We’re both learning,’ Talia approved. She came to sit on the window seat next to Sofia. ‘You have lessons