HELENA LEFT HER bedroom feeling as if she’d slipped into a dream.
There had been little time to reflect on the explosion of passion that had consumed them. No sooner had she taken a hurried shower than the stylist and her two assistants had arrived to turn her into a princess for the evening.
The thrum of their lovemaking had still been there in her veins while she’d been pampered and preened. She’d longed to send the women away and have the luxury of composing her thoughts before she had to face Theo again.
All those years ago she’d longed for the complete fulfilment she’d known could only come from his lovemaking. It had been beautiful. It had been everything she’d dreamed it could be.
She had not an ounce of regret.
It was Theo’s reaction that played on her mind.
She’d expected him to crow, not in a nasty way but in a Theo way, in a way that involved him making quips about his own prowess and implying without any subtlety whatsoever that this was what she’d been missing out on all these years.
She hadn’t expected him to just...leave. Not a single comment, not a solitary wink. He hadn’t even strutted out of the room.
He’d looked as dazed as she’d felt.
Helena supposed she should be thankful the stylists were there to distract her, otherwise she’d have her knickers in a twist about where they were going. The palace!
If Theo had planned this in advance, he’d been wise to keep it a secret. Not only was he taking her to her favourite place on earth but, as this was a VIP thing, many of his friends would be there too. She’d always felt gauche in their company. They were all so sophisticated, especially the women, all of whom she’d wondered if they’d shared Theo’s bed. She’d sensed the antipathy towards her, from his friends of both sexes. Theo had playfully accused her of being insecure, which had accounted for some of her feelings, she knew, but she’d also known it had run deeper than that. Whether his friends saw her as a threat who was going to steal the life and soul of the party from them or if they merely disapproved of a non-socialite joining the gang, she’d never been able to discern.
That was why she’d loved their time on Sidiro so much, she remembered wistfully. There, for a whole glorious month, it had been just them, the sun and the sea and like-minded people loving life without any airs, graces or fancies.
At the end of the corridor was a full-length mirror. Taking one final look at her reflection, she reminded herself that she was not the same naïve young woman who’d felt so out of her depth before. She was strong now. She could hold her own. She would not feel intimidated. She had nothing to feel jealous about.
Despite all these tough words to herself, she descended the stairs with her heart in her throat and legs shaking so hard that she clung to the gold bannister to keep herself upright.
Theo heard light footsteps nearing the veranda. Every one of his senses immediately set itself on high alert.
Holding his glass of Scotch firmly in his hand, he rose to his feet and braced himself for Helena’s appearance.
His own appearance had taken him thirty minutes to master. It had entailed a shower, a shave of his neck—he’d decided to grow his beard—the donning of a dapper suit and the artful mussing of his hair. The rest of his time had been spent reading his PA’s business report, a daily briefing she sent at the end of every working day. Usually he would fire back observations or instructions to be carried out, but he’d had a hard enough time concentrating on the report, having to read it numerous times for the words to sink in, without finding the intelligence needed to reply.
The only place his mind wanted to go was reliving every moment of making love to Helena. The harder he tried not to think about it, the more the images pushed into the forefront of his mind. It was a form of mental torture.
He’d expected it to be explosive between them but there had been a part of him expecting it to be anti-climactic. After all, the build-up through the years had taken such weight in his mind that nothing could live up to it. But it had. More than lived up to it.
He could revel in the buzz still alight on his skin were it not for the emotions that had erupted beneath it. Emotions had never been part of the plan.
Damn it, she wasn’t supposed to have remained a virgin.
The footsteps grew louder.
He sucked in a breath and braced himself.
With the early evening sun blazing down on her like gold dust, Helena stepped onto the veranda.
Theo sucked in another breath.
She’d foregone her glasses—she had always carried contact lenses ‘just in case’—leaving her beautiful face free from obstruction.
She glowed. Her golden skin had a luminescence he’d never seen before. Her dark hair shone, artfully knotted at the nape of her neck, not a strand displaced. The professionally applied sultry make-up glimmered. The silk of her dress gleamed.
‘Well?’ she asked shyly, spreading her hands out. ‘Will I do?’
He cleared his throat and nodded. ‘You look beautiful.’
So beautiful it felt as if his heart had been punched.
Agon’s royal palace was an architect’s dream, as colourful as the lives of the people who inhabited it. Its influences ranged from Turkish to French, blended to create a vast wonderland that rivalled Buckingham Palace for size. Helena distinctly remembered driving to her grandparents’ home from the airport in Agon as a small child, her heart soaring with wonder to see the colourful turrets in the distance. As soon as they’d arrived she’d begged for paper and colouring pencils and immediately set about drawing it. That was her first ever attempt to draw a building and it had ignited a lifelong love of both the palace and the architecture behind it.
The palace interior matched the exterior for opulence, and she kept having to ensure her mouth was closed to stop it hanging open in awe.
Theo at her side, she was taken into a stateroom with around fifty other select guests. There, they were fed all the champagne they could quaff and all the canapés they could fit in their bellies. Naturally, everyone knew Theo, and she was introduced to many people, quite a few of whom she recognised from three years ago.
For a moment she longed to grab hold of Theo’s hand as she’d done back then and feel the solid weight of his support. He’d laughed at her insecurities but had stayed by her side. The times he hadn’t was when she’d plucked up the courage to let go of his hand and release him as her life support. That was when everyone would pounce and Helena would find herself pushed to the sidelines, nibbling miserably on any morsel she could get her hands on until Theo extracted himself from whoever was monopolising him and rescued her.
She’d been too inured to a woman being under a male’s thumb to realise she should have rescued herself. Her insecurities had not been Theo’s fault.
She stared at him now, chatting to a woman she recognised, tall, thin, beautiful, an identikit clothes horse to those he’d hung out with after Helena had left, and swiped a bite-sized chunk of cucumber and avocado artfully rolled into one, and popped it into her mouth. The little devil called Jealousy who lived in her heart rose but she swallowed it down. Theo wasn’t flirting. He was exchanging pleasantries. It was her erratic, insecure emotions when they’d been together that had always feared he would look from the beauty at his side to her and realise how wildly unsuitable Helena was for him.
She popped another more substantial canapé into her mouth and chewed absently while making an effort to stop a frown lining her forehead. She remembered complaining to Theo that none of his friends spoke to her unless she was glued to his side. A soft smile had spread over his face and then he’d put his thumbs to her forehead and massaged it gently. ‘This is why,’ he’d told her sympathetically. ‘When you are frightened, you frown. It makes people wary of speaking to you. You look cross.’
‘But I’m not cross,’ she’d said, dumbfounded that he would say such a thing.
He’d replaced his thumbs with his mouth and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I know, agapi mou,’ he’d whispered. ‘I know.’
And he had known. And he’d tried to protect her. But even with the best will in the world it was impossible to stay glued to one person for an entire evening.
She helped herself to another canapé. What an insecure, naïve young woman she had been. And as she swallowed the delicious morsel she felt a twinge of sympathy for the clothes horse chewing Theo’s ear off. Not only did he look...not bored exactly, more that his attention was elsewhere, but also she must be starving. And cold in the scrap of fabric that barely covered her modesty and was no match for the palace’s air-conditioning. When had that woman last had a proper meal? As had been the case three years ago, Helena was the only female guest actually eating. She was too hungry to do anything else. She caught a pencil-thin woman eyeing her and couldn’t interpret if the look she was throwing her way was disdain or envy.
Helena raised her champagne glass in salute. The woman quickly looked away.
‘Nicely done,’ Theo murmured.
His breath whispered in her hair, his cologne enveloping her.
Her heart thumped.
She hadn’t noticed him leave the clothes horse’s side.
She leaned her face against his and inhaled the musky scent of his skin. The bristles of his fledging beard brushed her cheek. ‘I should have learned the art of nonchalance long ago.’
‘I don’t know, I rather liked the jealous Helena.’
‘She wasn’t rational.’
‘I know.’
Their gazes locked together, lingered...
Then Theo, eyes gleaming, drained his glass of champagne. ‘We will be leaving for the amphitheatre soon.’ His voice lowered as he leaned in to speak into her ear. ‘When we get back home I’m going to strip that dress off and make you come with my tongue.’
A rush of blood to her head almost had her swaying on the spot.
An image of them making love flashed in her vision, sending more heat shooting through her from her pelvis into her dizzy brain.
Helena ground her heeled feet firmly into the antique carpet...
But that only made her think of how she had lost her virginity on her bedroom floor.
Fresh heat burned her cheeks as the monumentality of what they’d shared earlier finally sank in.
They’d had sex. She’d had sex with Theo. On her bedroom floor. And if Theo was to say he wanted to escape this party, take her home and do the things he’d just suggested...
She would go willingly. He wouldn’t need to ask twice.
Trying to settle her erratic breaths, she took a sip of her champagne, reminding herself that she was in a royal palace.
But then she looked again into Theo’s eyes and saw the gleam ringing in them that suggested he knew his words had had the desired effect. The urge to play him at his own game, to watch him squirm as he’d made her squirm, was irresistible.
Raising herself onto her toes, she placed her mouth to his ear. ‘When we get back you’ll be able to see for yourself if I’m wearing knickers...or not.’ Then she darted her tongue out and licked the lobe of his ear before taking a step back to admire her handiwork.
Theo had stilled. His jaw was clenched, his eyes were hooded and gleaming with a combination of lust and amusement.
Helena smiled knowingly and raised her eyebrows. Nonchalantly, she said, ‘How are we getting to the amphitheatre?’
A wide smile spread slowly across his expressive face. He burst into laughter. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her against him and kissed the top of her head. ‘By train, agapi mou.’ Then he lowered his voice so only she could hear. ‘You are in so much trouble, you minx.’
The train transpired to be a brand-new electric transportation system King Helios had had installed earlier that year to traverse the vast palace grounds. With the grounds having been closed to the public for the day, the select guests were transported with the king, his two brothers and the royal wives to the amphitheatre in carriages that evoked thoughts of an age when rail travel had been exotic and luxurious.
Her carriage’s window open, Helena closed her eyes and welcomed the refreshing kiss of the breeze on her face. She needed it, especially with Theo sitting so closely beside her. Their thighs were pressed together, his hand clasping hers in a proprietorial manner. She needed the air to blow some sanity into her brain. Here she was, in a carriage with Prince Talos and his beautiful wife, and all she could think about was returning to Theo’s villa and enjoying his possession of her body all over again. Indeed, her only thought of the prince was how terrifying he was, easily the biggest man she had ever met. Many men of his size could be referred to as gentle giants. Prince Talos was not one of them...not until Helena caught the softening in his expression whenever he looked at his wife.
An unexpected burn stabbed the backs of her eyes. Theo had used to look at her that way...
She didn’t want him to look at her that way again, she reminded herself. She’d given Theo possession of her body. Nothing more. Tomorrow they would return to Sidiro’s peninsula and she would reset their relationship back to a business footing.
For this one day and night, though, they could fulfil the fantasies that had once driven them to the brink of madness.
Theo stepped into his softly lit villa and took a moment to embrace the silence. A man who usually thrived on noise and chaos, he realised all the noise of the evening had been drowned out by the thuds of his heart pounding in his ears.
He didn’t think he’d taken in a single word anyone had said to him during the champagne reception. Apart from Helena. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t even remember who he’d spoken to. Apart from Helena. As for the plot of the amphitheatre’s show over which the rest of the audience had been in raptures, quite frankly, the entire thing could have been conducted in Swahili for all he’d got of it.
How could a man concentrate on such things when the scent of the most ravishing woman in the world skipped continually into his aroused senses? When she kept throwing him those come-to-bed eyes?
When the show finished, he’d stared into her eyes and in that moment he’d known he would cancel attending Prince Talos’s private after-party. Who cared about showing the world that he’d won back the woman who’d jilted him when he could take her home and devour her all over again?
Who could think of revenge when burning desire consumed your every movement? When the soft skin of the object of your revenge as well as of your desire kept brushing against your arm? When her soft hands held yours as tightly as you held hers?
But now they were back, he knew he needed a moment to gather himself together.
‘Drink?’ he suggested.
He wanted to make love to her so badly, but this time he wanted to take it as slowly as he should have done the first time...her first time. Ever.
He led her through to his favourite living area, a vast room that led onto the veranda, separated by a wall of glass. He pressed the button to open the wall then went to his bar. ‘What do you want?’
She smiled softly then headed through the gap that had opened onto the veranda, saying over her shoulder, ‘Whatever you’re having.’
I’m having you, he thought as he opened a bottle of ouzo, poured a large measure of it into a cocktail shaker, then did the same with the vodka. Then he added the juice of a lemon, some orange juice and, remembering to add them only at the last moment, chunks of ice. Then he gave it a good shake before straining it into two tall glasses.
He carried their drinks outside, where he found her barefoot on the lawn below the veranda, staring out at the black sea before her, the moonlight illuminating her pale face.
‘Here,’ he said.
She took it from him with a smile and sipped it through the straw. Her eyes flickered. ‘A Greek Doctor?’
He grinned. ‘You remember?’
A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. ‘I remember getting my first hangover on these. And my last.’
‘Still?’ That was a night he’d never forgotten. Helena, unused to drinking more than the odd glass of wine, had devoured more than her share of the cocktail one night early on during their stay on Sidiro. He’d had to carry her back to the small hotel room. She’d alternated between clinging to him like a limpet throughout the night to retching over the side of the bed. In the morning she’d clutched her head tightly and vowed never to drink so much again. In all their time together after that, she never had.
She took another sip and nodded. ‘I learned my lesson.’ Eyes holding his, she swirled the contents of her glass. ‘I always learn my lessons.’
He contemplated her. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’
‘Only that you and I... I don’t want you getting the wrong idea.’
‘What wrong idea would that be?’
‘That we’re getting back together. We’re not. When we go back to Sidiro, our relationship goes back to being purely professional.’