Chapter Four #2
She could feel the legal secretary’s excitement pulsing down the phone.
But as she turned and followed Demetrios, she felt more exposed than excited as the hustle of the airport stilled around her.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she tried to ignore the covert but concentrated gaze of the other travellers, and she was grateful when they left the main concourse and walked into another smaller waiting area.
There were fewer people there, and the air was scented with something light and floral and expensive.
Outside, there was not just one car waiting for her, but three heavyweight SUVs with blacked-out windows. The car in the centre had another blank-faced man in a dark suit and dark glasses standing in front of it. It was a formidable welcoming committee.
Except, it didn’t feel welcoming.
She felt her stomach somersault. Was this supposed to remind her of her place in the scheme of things? As if dragging her halfway across Europe hadn’t already ticked that box.
‘Is everything okay, Ms Hamilton?’
‘You tell me,’ she said crisply.
Demetrios smiled politely. ‘It’s standard security logistics. Mr Konstantinou always travels with three cars.’
Her pulse skipped a beat, and she felt her chest tighten. Mr Konstantinou? But he wasn’t here. Was he?
In answer to her unspoken question, the man standing by the SUV turned smartly and opened the door of the car, and her gaze pulled towards the man stepping onto the runway just as if he was a new moon and she was some spring tide.
As Demetrios melted into the Greek sunshine, she felt her legs stutter to a halt, the sight of Ares Konstantinou acting like some unseen brakes even as her heart began to race.
It wasn’t fair that each time they met, he looked even better than the previous time.
Make that spectacular, she thought, her eyes narrowing on his face.
Unlike everyone else on the runway, he wore no sunglasses, but then, he had no need of them.
He was brighter and more brilliant than the sun.
As she stopped in front of him, she reluctantly removed her own glasses, suddenly conscious of her flushed face and the stickiness of her skin where she had recently applied sunscreen.
‘Ms Hamilton.’
He inclined his head like some modern-day Alexander the Great greeting a subject. He wasn’t a king, but there was something that set him apart from other men. She’d noticed that in London, at the party. In a room crowded with the wealthy and influential, his presence had been a commanding thing.
‘I hope your flight was comfortable.’
‘It was.’ She inclined her head, matching his imperious gesture. ‘It’s very thoughtful of you to meet me, Mr Konstantinou. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble on my account.’
His hard, sensuous mouth dipped at the corners as he shrugged. ‘My flight came in from London at the same time as yours, so it was no trouble whatsoever.’
His flight?
‘I thought you’d already left England.’
‘My schedule changed,’ he said casually. ‘One of the perks of having one’s own ride.’ He gestured towards the sleek white jet that sat gleaming on the runway behind the line of cars.
Willa blinked. How had she not noticed that plane?
But she knew how. All her focus, every atom of her being had been pulled inexorably towards that second dark car as if by some invisible force.
Sadly, Ares Konstantinou wasn’t invisible.
He was here. Large as life. Larger, she thought peevishly. Even in heels, he was still two inches taller than her.
‘I would have offered you a lift. But I know how strongly you feel about crossing boundaries.’
She felt a sudden, strong urge to take off her shoes and hurl them at his handsome head, but instead she said with an admirable coolness given the provocation, ‘I do. So perhaps I should sit in one of the other cars.’ It would certainly be a lot less unsettling than being cooped up with his lean, muscular body.
As his dark gaze flicked to her eyes, she felt the absence of her sunglasses.
She had learned to hide her thoughts, her feelings, to hide a truth which could blow apart the lives of so many people.
But three weeks ago, at the Clarendon, she’d let this man get close.
She’d let herself be seduced by his beauty and masculinity.
She’d let down her guard.
Let him in.
And yes, it was just sex. But whatever anyone said about casual sex, there was nothing casual about taking someone inside your body.
It took trust.
She had trusted him. And in the intense, flickering focus of his dark grey gaze she hadn’t felt as though she was concealing who she was. Or pretending to be someone that she wasn’t. She was eager, honest, uninhibited, inexpert. And he’d liked who she was.
More than liked. She’d had sex before, and no man had ever looked at her so intently or touched her so feverishly.
Her breath twisted in her throat.
But she’d misunderstood his intensity, that feverishness. He wasn’t seeing her. He was simply cutting loose, enjoying the freedom of no-strings sex with a stranger, and it was stupid—irrationally so—to care that he hadn’t wanted more. They’d barely spoken, let alone made plans or promises.
But what kind of man woke in the early hours of the morning and just left? And then insisted on making you work for him.
It was not just ill-mannered, it was brutal.
Not that Ares cared what she thought. He was too busy holding a grudge against her for turning up in his life again without permission.
Stomach tensing, she lifted her chin. So they were both holding grudges.
‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible for security reasons.
On the plane you were just a random passenger, but here in Greece you are my guest,’ he said smoothly, but there was an edge to his voice.
An accent too, faint but discernible, as if being here had stripped away some of that urbane, ultra-high net-worth exterior to reveal the man underneath.
‘Is that why you had me escorted from the airport? It was quite a show. I felt like I was under arrest.’
Ares was staring at her in silence, and she was torn between wanting to keep staring back at his fascinating face and turning and running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. ‘Is that something you’re familiar with?’ he said finally.
‘I have an imagination.’
His pupils stilled, snapping outwards to swallow up the grey of his irises.
‘Yes.’ He paused, and the tension in her stomach wound tighter.
‘You do. But whatever you’re feeling is all in your head.
Unless, of course, you’re guilty of something.
’ Her breath spiralled in her throat as he stared at her steadily.
‘Is that true, Ms Hamilton? Are you hiding something you’re ashamed of? ’
She knew her face was pale, that it was impossible to hide. But she couldn’t imagine sharing that moment when her whole life unravelled with anyone, much less the beautiful, cold-eyed man gazing down at her.
‘Everyone is hiding something.’
He didn’t reply, just pushed the door a little wider, and she slipped past him, altering her trajectory enough to be certain that they didn’t touch. But any hopes she’d had of retaining that level of control throughout the journey were swiftly extinguished.
For starters, the car’s blacked-out windows kept nudging her brain back towards a memory of the darkening sky above London, and it took all her willpower and muscle resistance to stop her brain and body from replaying that night. And then—
‘Here. You can keep it.’
She stared at Ares in confusion. He was holding out a crisply ironed handkerchief, his gaze hovering on her shoulder and glancing down, she frowned.
‘Oh, she must have brought up some milk. The baby.’
He frowned. ‘The baby?’
‘There was a baby on the plane. I offered to hold her for a bit.’
‘You offered?’ His grey eyes fixed on her face, and feeling all fingers and thumbs, she dabbed at the stain.
‘Do you like babies, then?’
‘I have younger sisters.’ She felt a wrench, and folding the handkerchief, she leaned back against the door-frame, trying to put distance between herself and his all-seeing gaze.
Sisters. Was that what they were?
Was that how they would feel if they found out the truth?
She hated lying to them. Hated not seeing them too, but she couldn’t risk letting something slip.
Something that would change her relationship with them forever as it had changed her relationship with Robert.
It didn’t matter that their bond was forged in a shared history and affection.
She was a cuckoo in their nest, and they had every reason to resent her and push her out.
Blanking her mind to that destabilising thought, she reached into her bag for a phone. ‘I have the name of my hotel. Shall I give it to your driver?’ Hell, what was it? She knew what it was, but being in such proximity to Ares had apparently short-circuited her brain. ‘It’s called the—’
‘Minos.’
She frowned. ‘Yes, that’s right. How did you know that?’
‘Are you seriously asking me that?’ Now he frowned. ‘You’re here, in my city on Konstantinou business. Clearly I expect to know where you’re staying.’
My city. She gritted her teeth, but he wasn’t exaggerating.
She had done her research; although, in all honesty, clicking on page after page of photos of Ares Konstantinou at various events surrounded by countless beautiful women was not so much research as torture.
The photos of him on his yacht were both unsettling and unnecessary.
She didn’t need to know what he looked like in swim shorts to write his sister’s prenup.
Not when she knew what he looked like without them.
But aside from photos of a semi-naked Ares, her research had been both informative and somewhat daunting. She had grown up feeling well-off, but he was dizzyingly wealthy. And his family’s status in Greece, particularly in Athens, was similar to that of royalty.
‘I see,’ she said, stiffly.