THE OFFICE HELENA had been appointed by Theo was, she had to admit, perfect. He’d provided her with everything she’d requested and as a result she had a humungous rectangular table on which to spread out her plans and display 3D models of her designs, a ginormous desk with three brand-new desktop computers and two brand-new laptops, all with the specified software installed. She also had a 3D printer, an ordinary printer and enough of the specific stationery she used to keep her going for the next year.
She had no intention of being here for even a quarter of a year. Once the designs were approved, she was out of here. A Greek project manager would take over the day-to-day running of the build and liaise with officials. To get to that point, though, was going to take a lot of hard work. Greek planning law was a whole new area for her and, while she’d crammed the subject every spare minute this past month, she was quite sure there were many areas she could trip herself up on if she didn’t give it due diligence.
The five days she’d already spent here had gone much better than anticipated, mostly because Theo had stopped flirting with her. Her parting shot at the end of their first site visit must have worked, for he’d turned into the epitome of professionalism. Or had it been her insinuation that she’d had lovers? Whatever the cause, she was glad he’d stopped tormenting her. She was.
If it weren’t for the sparks that played beneath her skin, working with him would be easy. Theo, she was learning, had a keen but relaxed approach to business that stopped her second-guessing herself and tying herself in knots about meeting his approval. If she suggested something he didn’t agree with he would dismiss it, but not in a way that made her feel foolish for broaching the subject. The suggestions he did agree with, he had a way of approving them that made her feel as if she’d grown wings.
It was the nights she struggled with. Her five nights here had been spent with her own company. Theo disappeared the moment business hours finished, sailing away on his yacht to wherever he planned to enjoy his evening. He invited her to join him every time and every time she refused. Each refusal was met with a nonchalant shrug before he strolled off.
So much for him being available to her day and night, but she was in no position to complain, not when he’d complied with all her requests. Since that first day, he’d made sure to be back and ready to work by the time she’d finished breakfast. All their site visits had been done before the sun blazed hot enough to chargrill them.
Last night, for the first time, he’d arrived back before the sun rose. Helena hadn’t been listening out for him or anything, but sleep had been slow to arrive since she’d been on the peninsula. She could only have been dozing when she heard footsteps, then his bedroom door close. Whose bed had he crept out of before returning?
Every time she’d closed her eyes after that she’d been plagued by images of Theo and a faceless woman entwined.
It shouldn’t bother her whom he spent his time with or what they did together. Theo was never going to live like a monk and it was unreasonable for her to expect him to curb his lust just because she was working for him. It was unreasonable for her to feel irritated by Theo being Theo.
And the definition of feeling irritated shouldn’t need to be changed to mean the flares of burning, twisting violence in Helena’s chest and stomach whenever the images taunted her. She’d spent three years seeing real-life images of Theo and his conveyor belt of women without feeling anything apart from the occasional flash of fury that ended the moment she’d scrunched the offending picture into a ball or shredded it into tiny pieces.
In the early hours of the morning, afraid to close her eyes, waiting for the sun to rise and announce the new day, she felt a violence in her stomach that had made her feel capable of ripping someone’s head from their shoulders.
It was a violence of emotion that frightened her and that not even an extra-long shower had washed out of her.
To make her frazzled nerves worse, her cumulative lack of sleep had left her looking awful. It was one thing to look dreadful deliberately, but when it came naturally and involved puffy eyes, lank hair and dry skin as side-effects, her vanity cringed every time she caught her reflection. The icing on the cake had come in the form of Theo strolling into the dining room for breakfast with a spring in his step, looking as if he’d had a full eight hours of sleep. Again, he was dressed for the sun in shorts and polo shirt while Helena was dressed in her uniform of skirt and blouse. He hadn’t shaved but still looked and smelled as fresh as the morning sun.
It wasn’t fair. Theo had everything. He’d always had everything—a life of luxury, his choice of women, unlimited funds...
But he’d known tragedy. His mother’s death from cancer, followed three months later by his father’s fatal heart attack not long after he’d turned eighteen, had devastated him. He’d been as close to them as a son and his parents could be. Being an only child, he’d inherited the lot, become a multimillionaire while still in his teens. Using that inheritance, he’d quickly established himself as a party animal, then just as quickly established himself as a maverick businessman. Within five years he’d turned those millions into billions.
The sound of approaching footsteps brought Helena up short from her reverie and she blinked herself back into focus, pushed her glasses up her nose and poised herself over her paperwork.
Theo, huge mug of black coffee in his hand, stepped into Helena’s office. It took a few moments for her to acknowledge his presence but one look at the colour on her face and the tucking of hair behind both ears proved how flustered his appearance made her.
‘How are you getting on?’ he asked, closing the door behind him.
Cheeks flaming, she somehow managed to find yet more hair to tuck. ‘Fine. I have more things to discuss if you have five minutes.’ Her words came out in a rush.
‘Of course.’ He propped himself on her desk beside her, making sure not to sit close enough for complaint but close enough to disturb her equilibrium a little. This was a balancing act he’d been playing all week to great success.
She reached forward for her notepad, her blouse loosening a touch around the top of her breasts. His vantage point gave him the briefest glimpse of creamy cleavage but it was as tantalising as if she’d left the blouse undone.
Speaking briskly, she said, ‘The first thing I wanted to discuss is the location of the outdoor swimming pool. My advice would be to change it.’
Theo forced his attention away from her breasts. Helena made some excellent points about privacy from passing boats and yachts that hadn’t occurred to him and resulted in them settling on the pool’s location elsewhere, followed by a brief discussion about the location of the summer house—also to be designed by Helena—that was to be built close by. Theo loved to host parties and his pool and summer house and all the space in between would be the perfect party location. The grounds surrounding the house would all flow from the swimming pool and he admired the fact that she’d picked up on that and understood what he wanted to create. Their late-night talks when they’d dreamed up their perfect house had only been about the interior. It took much effort not to mention sunbathing naked, just to have the pleasure of watching her squirm, but, after their first site visit, he’d decided to change tactics. If Helena wanted him to keep a cool, professional distance in working hours then that was what he’d give her.
Her initial perplexity when he failed to deliver any double entendres, even when a subject was crying out for it, or when he restrained himself from making any salacious comment whatsoever had amused him greatly. Every evening, without fail, he politely asked if she would like to sail away with him for some fun. He never spelt out what that fun would entail—Helena’s imagination was perfectly capable of dreaming that up itself—which meant he got the pleasure of watching her cheeks flush and her eyes pulse as she fought her own longing to say yes.
Did she realise that every time she spoke to him, she tilted towards him? Did she realise that she fidgeted her way through every conversation? Was she aware that her breath hitched whenever he walked past her? Was she aware that at that very moment her hands trembled?
‘The next thing I wanted to discuss is the kitchen,’ she said, moving the conversation on.
‘What about it?’ he asked lightly.
She tugged at the sheets of paper he’d placed his backside on. ‘You’re sitting on my notes.’
‘My apologies.’ Sliding smoothly off the desk, he went and sat on the chair on the other side of her desk. ‘Is this better?’ But she didn’t respond. Her eyes were on his, wide and stark, her fidgety body suddenly frozen. ‘Helena?’
She blinked at the mention of her name and quickly looked down at her freed notes.
‘Yes. The kitchen.’ Despite Helena’s best efforts, her voice sounded all wrong.
It had been hard enough to breathe with Theo propped on her desk beside her—when he’d first perched himself there she’d feared her heart would explode out of her chest—but when he’d moved off she’d had to fist her hands to stop them from grabbing hold of him. Now he was sitting opposite her and she’d caught a sudden glimpse of his golden chest beneath the collar of his polo shirt, and in the breath of a moment her insides had turned to mush.
It shouldn’t be like this, she thought despairingly. She’d spent three months under Theo’s intoxicating spell, riding the rollercoaster of her life. He’d had the ability to make her forget everything that mattered. Under his spell she’d believed all she needed was Theo in her life to be happy. She was sure her mother had once believed the same thing before she’d sold her soul to a monster. Theo wasn’t a monster like Helena’s father but his power over Helena had been just as strong.
How could she still react so strongly to him? She’d believed the sudden detonation of their relationship had killed her feelings for him but she saw now that she’d been hiding them, hiding them so deep inside that she’d forgotten how powerful they were until one look at him in the Staffords boardroom had seen them poke their heads out from dormancy. Now the old feelings were slapping her in the face, taunting her, and it was getting harder and harder to fight them.
Eyes now determinedly fixed on the papers on her desk, she rubbed the nape of her neck, cleared her throat and tried again. ‘We need to discuss the kitchen’s layout. Do you still want to consult a professional chef about it?’
She knew the moment she said it that she’d made a mistake.
Something sparked in his eyes. He leaned forwards a little, a satisfied smile spreading over his face. ‘You do remember.’
‘Only that neither of us can cook.’ She quickly fixed her gaze back on her notes, aware her face was flaming with colour.
‘But you asked—specifically—if I still wanted to consult a chef about the kitchen... What else do you remember?’
She tucked her hair behind her ear and wrote something nonsensical on her notepad. ‘Have you a chef in mind to consult?’
‘Answer my question.’
Her hand was shaking too much to write anything else.
‘Helena.’
‘What?’ Helena intended for her one-syllable question to come out as a challenge. She might have succeeded if her voice hadn’t cracked.
‘Look at me,’ he commanded.
Heart thrashing wildly, she breathed deeply before slowly raising her face. ‘What?’
His voice dropped to a murmur. ‘What do you remember?’
Trapped in his stare, she found herself unable to lie. ‘Everything. Now can we move on?’
A weekend at his Agon home gave Theo the perfect backdrop to glory in the fact that he was not alone in remembering everything he and Helena had shared. It had bothered him more than he’d admitted to himself that he might be the only one who remembered every detail.
Leaving her to her own devices for her first weekend on the peninsula was as calculated a move as leaving her to her own devices every night had been. He knew his nightly absences would drive her crazy. Let her think he was respecting her request for professionalism by day, but let his absence unleash her imagination by night. Helena had an incredible imagination. She’d shown it in so many ways. Her increasingly inventive imaginings of lovemaking. The riddles set as poems she’d loved to write for him. Her ability to imagine he’d slept with every woman they’d come across...
He planned to torture her slowly, keep her guessing and slowly reel her back into his snare. And it was working! Every casual invitation to join him for an evening of fun was met with a refusal that sounded less emphatic than the last.
And now he had proof their time together had left its mark on her too.
For three years he’d kept distant tabs on her career. Part of him willed everything she touched to turn to gold, the other half hoped everything she touched turned to dust. During those years he’d never listened to a voicemail without first thinking it might be Helena, having come to her senses and begging him to take her back. He had his response ready for this eventuality: a deep chuckle followed by a firm, ‘No,’ and then him terminating the call.
In his heart he’d known his fantasies weren’t worth the effort he put into making them. Helena wasn’t sitting around pining for him and regretting her foolishness in throwing their future away. She was working hard and living her focused life. The hidden side of her that had bloomed for Theo had been packed away again, unwanted. She’d packed the love she’d once held for him away with it.
But she did remember!
The tight control she’d kept herself under was on the verge of unravelling. All it would take was a little tug and the veneer of control would be gone...and Helena would be his for the taking.
Helena knew the gentle knock on her office door belonged to one of the housekeepers rather than Theo. For a start, Theo never knocked, and if he did she was quite sure it would be with the force of a battering ram.
‘Come in,’ she called.
Elli poked her head around the door. ‘Are you ready for lunch?’
She forced a rueful smile. ‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’ Not quite a lie. It wasn’t that she wasn’t hungry but that her stomach was so knotted she didn’t think she’d be able to get any food into it.
Where was he?
‘You are sure?’
‘I had a massive breakfast.’ That was true. She’d woken after a welcome good night’s sleep with a real spring in her step. She had no idea why she’d woken in such a good mood but it felt as if the sun’s rays had penetrated her heart. She’d been ravenous too and eaten everything Elli and Natassa had offered.
The sunrays beaming in her heart had slowly seeped away as the morning stretched out.
‘Okay. Well, if you get hungry, just call.’
‘Thank you.’ Then, because she had to ask, ‘Have you heard from Theo?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t expect to. He only tells me when he won’t want an evening meal.’
Which had been every night since Helena’s arrival.
When he’d sauntered off for his weekend sailing, or whatever he was doing, he’d thrown a casual, ‘See you Monday morning,’ over his shoulder. He was yet to return.
Alone again, Helena removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes. She supposed she should have called Elli over to look at the draft plans she’d created for the kitchen. After that excruciating moment where she’d admitted remembering everything, she’d looked away from him and broken the brief silence to ask, again, if he had a chef in mind to consult about the kitchen. She’d been afraid to look at him, the memory of them laughing in agreement that the odds of either of them using the kitchen to cook food being pretty much zero, surprisingly painful.
His reply had been to consult Elli and Natassa, which she had done over a shared lunch with them during the weekend.
His beautiful housekeepers, who both cooked as if they’d been sprinkled with angel dust, were staying. When the house was complete, they would move from the small purpose-built studio they shared at the back of the lodge into the lodge itself.
Helena hoped the acid burning her stomach at this hadn’t reflected on her face, especially as the two Greek women were so excited about it. She’d learned over the weekend that they were both artists. Sharing the roles of live-in housekeeper and chef gave them a roof over their heads, an income and the time and space to produce their art. She supposed it was possible that Theo hadn’t noticed their physical attributes when deciding to employ them. It was also possible that pigs really did fly.
Where was he?
Had he had an accident? He should be here.
She closed her eyes and took five long breaths, but it didn’t quell the rolling in her stomach or the growing tightness in her chest. When she put her glasses back on she had to blink a number of times for her vision to clear. Her concentration remained shot.
A vision of his yacht capsizing flashed through her mind.
Removing her glasses again, she put a hand to her heavy heart and took another five breaths, assuring herself he was fine, of course he was fine. She mustered some dark humour to think that he’d better have had an accident or she would kill him for his lazy unprofessionalism...
Her office door opened and he strolled in, a grin on his gorgeous face. ‘Good afternoon, agapi mou. How was your weekend?’
She shot up from her seat, suddenly light-headed. Without her glasses her vision was atrocious, but even so she could see the stubble on his unshaved face and the mussed hair. For once he was wearing an actual suit, an expensive, hand-tailored navy blue one with an open-necked white shirt, the tie removed.
As he neared her, she caught the scent of feminine perfume clinging to him, intermingling with his woody cologne.
‘Helena?’
She stared at him, clenching her teeth, the relief that he was alive and well already fading as the horrible perfume filled her airways, almost making her gag.
He tilted his head. ‘Why are you looking like you want to stab me?’
She hadn’t realised her temper was hanging by a thread until it snapped. ‘Where the hell have you been?’